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Gaara supposes he should be used to this by now. Uchiha Sasuke shows up in the Sand once every few months, tattered and looking worse for the wear, muttering some excuse about Naruto freaking out if he saw him like this, gets patched up by disgruntled medic-nins, gives Gaara extremely cursory thanks, and then disappears again. This time, his only arm is mottled with red, his clothes have been all but shredded, and Gaara senses his chakra reserves bordering on depleted.
It’s hard to faze him nowadays, but Gaara’s pulse spikes as he flies up from his desk and steadies Sasuke. He doesn’t want to think about who—or what—could have done that to the Uchiha. “You’re a diplomatic nightmare,” he offers as he leads the man to a chair.
“Your concern, as ever, is heartening,” Sasuke returns, one side of his mouth quirked up. It’s strange, the ease with which they banter. Gaara doesn’t remember when his animosity for the boy who tossed Naruto’s feelings aside so carelessly waned and morphed into something more cordial, friendly even.
“Do I want to know?”
“No,” Sasuke says shortly. By now accustomed to his moods, Gaara picks up on the thread of strain in Sasuke’s voice. He’s not one to show fear, even anxiety, but this is as close as it gets.
Gaara nods. “We’ll talk later,” his tone brooking no argument. Sasuke glares at him, but keeps his peace as Gaara pulls out a roll of bandages. At the back of his mind, he wonders why Sasuke doesn’t simply turn up at the hospital; Gaara’s long informed the staff to expect his visits. He’s not especially trained in medical ninjutsu, but years of bottling Shukaku inside have led to nasty self-inflicted accidents which he learned to treat. Simple first-aid would have to do.
Sasuke leans back in the chair, eyes drifting shut. His face looks hallowed out. His posture screams of weariness, and pain he’s struggling not to show. Gaara swallows around the surprising wave of protectiveness surging up. Uchiha Sasuke doesn’t need his concern, nor will he appreciate it.
“You should tell the Hokage, at least,” Gaara says, and blinks when Sasuke stiffens.
“Not like this,” Sasuke manages after an awkward pause. “I don’t want him to… see me like this.”
It’s a testament to how exhausted Sasuke must be, that he let something like that slip. Gaara understands, in a way. Sasuke doesn’t speak of his missions, only appears at Kage summits to provide crucial information, but Gaara’s sources have tabs on him. The man travels endlessly, tirelessly, working to combat an evil that none of them can quite grasp. His way of seeking redemption, Naruto had once bitterly confided to Gaara. As if he thinks I require that of him, that idiot.
“There,” he says softly, fingers tying the last of the bandages securely. “This should hold you together.”
“Should?” Sasuke asks, wry. “I feel better already.”
Gaara snorts, coaxing Sasuke from the chair. The words slip out before he can stop himself, “The bed’s more comfortable.”
It’s funny how Sasuke’s expression blanks, as if he doesn’t know what face to make in this situation. Gaara would laugh, but Temari and Kankurou have made it clear social awareness isn’t exactly his forte either.
“For you to rest, Uchiha. I’m not propositioning you, in case you’re worried.”
The line of Sasuke’s shoulders dip. “Diplomatic nightmare, you said.”
Gaara smirks. “Naruto would have my head.”
Sasuke stumbles through the door that leads to Gaara’s personal quarters, another tell of just how strained he is. At the worst of times, Sasuke still moves with a matchless, deadly grace. It’s dangerously heartwarming, that the Uchiha has chosen to let his control falter so far in front of him. Gaara doesn’t know what to make of it, this measure of satisfaction he gets from being allowed to witness Sasuke's vulnerability.
Sasuke toes off his sandals—it’s such an inane thing to notice, but Gaara does—and falls into the corner of the bed. It’s his next words, spoken in almost a whisper, that still Gaara.
“I’m tired.” Sasuke’s eyes are closed, his breathing, low.
Gaara nudges Sasuke, and gets under the covers. He brings an arm to curl around the Uchiha, who freezes for a second, before pulling closer, touch-starved. A moment of solace before he bears his burdens and ventures out into the storm again. For the ninja world, for peace, for Naruto.
“Then rest.”