Well, this little story is for chocokittens. She requested a ShikaTema …thing, and so here it is. It's based on 'Banshee Song', by Gob.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Dedication: To chocokittensand Eleni and Erika.

I watch him slip into his bedroom with a tired sigh. He flicks the light out, and stand silently in the half-darkness left by the moon's luminance. He is beautiful; wild and dangerous and free, with snaking locks of hair that frame his face when let down, but most of the time, it is kept out of his face in a ponytail. He is long and lean and, annoyingly, human.

His eyes -so dark, so sarcastic, so bored- find my own dark green gaze, and casually hold it in place. An amused smirk-smile twitches on his think lips, and I feel an urge to screech at him.

I know it would shatter the glass separating us, as I want it to, but it would also doom him. My moods tend to dictate which scream I let out, and impatience usually was one that doomed those who heard it.

And I do not want to doom this human boy. His name is Shikamaru.

And he is… precious. He is not terrified by the fact that I am not the most human of the beings that love him. In fact, I am not human at all. Not in the least. I am a banshee.

And a very unconventional one, at that. I do not look the traditional (perhaps the word is expected…) floor length black hair and green skin sort of banshee. Actually, I mostly look human.

I am told I got this bit of outward physical appearance from my fey-prince father. But my heritage changes nothing. I am still abnormally tall for a banshee, still have sandy blonde hair that never grows past my shoulders, and I still have slanted teal blue eyes. My skin is still the colour of the inside of an almond, and I still have a temper that raises some of the elder's eyebrows.

I am so far from the conventional banshee that sometimes, my mother despairs that no proper being will be able to love me. But then, my mother does not consider humans 'proper beings'.

I do not agree with her in the slightest, and so I turn my attention back to the boy who is smiling at me from behind the glass.

We stare at each other for another moment, and I feel a slight sigh of annoyance as I must sit here and wait. I cannot open the window on my own - one must invite the dangerous things in. We cannot enter on our own.

I rest my fingertips gently against the icy pane of glass (it does not bother me - I do not feel the cold), and, for a very brief moment, her aligns his hands with mine.

I swear I can feel the feel the heat of his blood running through his veins through the glass. I quietly shiver as he opens the window and pulls me in.

I know that the temperature in the room, which was previously so warm -it is summer, after all-, has dropped several degrees as soon as I am all the way in through the window. My feet do not touch the ground, and I float a half-inch off the floor.

But, despite yet another of my oddities (I have never in my life touched the earth), he pulls me close to his body, and I revel in the heat that his body naturally exudes. I am not used to such wonderful, beautiful heat.

After all, I am always cold.

"Temari…" he whispers, and I watch my name fall from his lips like water off a fountain, in something like awe.

He is such an incredible being, this boy, human or not. I am in awe that, of all the creatures in this world, human and not-so-human alike, he wants me.

His arms circle my waist, and he stares down at me. I blush, my faintly-green blood (my mother's only legacy) rushing up to stain my cheeks, and I look away. I am not normally shy, but withy him… with him, I have no choice.

He glows, most times, and when he does, I can barely look at him. This is one of those times.

He chuckles softly. "I asked to see you, Temari. How can I do that, when you hide?"

I tuck my face into the crook of his neck, and I exhale a breath of icy air. I do not need to breathe, but I feel him shudder from the temperature of the air, and I smile.

We stay like this for a moment, pressed as close to each other as we physically can be. I like being near him. It is a rare thing, that I get so close to anyone, let alone a human who gives off so much lovely, wonderful heat.

But I slowly pull away, and lock my gaze on his half-closed eyes. He smiles slowly at me, and whispers into the cold air, his breath coming out solid "Don't you ever speak?"

I whisper back, suddenly terrified that he may die in such cold "Of course I do. Don't close your eyes."

He nods sluggishly, but I can feel him drifting off. The human body is not built to withstand days without rest, Shikamaru especially. All he does is sleep, the silly boy.

I do not need to sleep. I have not slept in a hundred years. My duty is to deliver fate, not sleep. Sleeping is for humans.

As he slips into a deep sleep, I pull away from him. I softly place a single kiss on his forehead, and then I -quietly, carefully- slip out of his grasp. His fingers tighten briefly around mine, and I feel a strange ache in my heart. I do not know how to deal with one such as him…

I have never been in love before, I think. And I feel, oddly enough, that I would like to experience it. My mother says it is nothing but a blight, and perhaps it is, but at the same time, it is something I wish to feel.

And part of me wishes to feel it with this boy.

But I know that, one day, he will fall in love with a being of his own race, and she will be his forever. I cannot keep him from this fate.

"We are too different," I whisper into the silence.

My chest hurts, and I take one last long look into his room. His eyes snap open, and find mine once again. There is terror in his gaze - terror that I have left him. I wave, just a bit, and I force myself to vanish.

I have not gone far.

I am floating an inch off of his roof, my white dress lightly snagging against the shingles. I am slightly annoyed. I find it unfair that part of my dress can touch the ground, but I cannot. It is a nuisance.

My chest continues to ache, and I gently press a hand right over where a human's heart would be, slightly to the left of my chest cavity.

A great sadness rushes though me, and I am swept away by a tsunami of grief. I do not know why I feel such great sadness, but I do. I begin to shake, and so I do the only thing any banshee truly knows how to do.

I open my throat, and I sing.

The notes reach out deep into the night, and pull the terror of nightmares away from those I care about. I sing and sing, riding dizzying waves of melancholy notes. They come in strings, long lines of notes that I cannot ignore, no matter how much I wish to. The haunting, soft wail makes me feel physically ill.

But I know that I need to get it out now, while I have the chance, or I never will. And I know that I will never be able to look the boy who I feel that I might very well love in the face again.

And I do not want to face that possibility. I like him too much to not look him in the face again.

A crash brings me to my senses, and I peek over the side of the roof.

Shikamaru is outside on the ground, with his arms thrown open. He stares right up at me, a strange, sad smile on his lips. "I don't care that we're different! I don't care!"

I hesitate, but I cannot help myself. I very carefully drift down. I do not drop into his arms, as I wish I could, instead hovering just out of his reach, wondering what this may very well mean. For me, for him, for us.

He shakes his head. "I know that banshee song by heart, Temari. I'll never forget it. I'll never forget you."

"I will end up leaving," I whisper. "I always end up leaving."

He smiles again, with a slightly bitter note to it, now. "Yeah, I kind of expect that. But I still want you around, to hear you sing."

"I cannot promise you that. I simply cannot."

He shrugs, his arms still open. "Please. I just want to hear you sing, forever."

I cannot resist. I drop into his arms, my fingers warming slightly as they drink in the heat of his blood. I am greedy, I think. Greedy and terrible and evil. How can I do this to him, in good conscience?! He is not mine, I tell my chest over and over.

My chest does not agree, as I wish to haunt him forever. And there is no changing that. He is looking up at me like I am some kind of goddess.

It is a nice feeling.

I open my throat once more, and I sing.