Upon a Bed of Fire

By Aycelcus

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I do not own InuYasha. I never will. I know this. Don't rub it in.

Upon a Bed of Fire

by Aycelcus

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It was autumn when she left, with gentle words and soft entries. She had promised to return, kissing my cheek and pulling herself up to go. I watched her leave impassively, for it is my way.

But she did not come back.

For a time I think that I believed that if I followed her group she would return to them first. After all, they don't know what has transpired between us, and appearances must always be kept. Secrets are heavy things, difficult burdens to carry around, but we manage in the way that only desperate people do.

So I trail them silently, masking my presence as I once had all those months ago. But she does not reappear, and her absence has left its mark upon her band. Without her they are not whole. Without her they lose some of their cohesion. I understand them more than they could ever know. Without her I am incomplete. I cannot tell you why this is so, for my emotions are vast and uncharted territories. Only she seems willing to brave them, a fact that both fascinates and terrifies me in turn. She can go where I cannot.

I cannot explain with my limited knowledge of emotion, how I felt at the moment I realized my obsession with her; everything leading up to that moment is a blur. I can only imagine that I followed her with an intensity approaching blindness.  And blindness is a dangerous state for someone in my position. I suppose I am grateful that she found me before my enemies did. I know that I am very grateful that she was not turned away by the dishonorable actions of one such as I. It seems that she is ever driving me to extremes. But she is patient with me, and I am as kind and gentle as I can be. Never has she run when my nature takes hold. She just rides out the storm and calms my rages. Always, afterward, I am penitent, and she forgives me with but a touch as I tend the wounds that our loving made.

And sometimes, when I least expect it, I can feel a smile touch my lips. She fills me with wonder, does my shadow-lover. Such a brief and perilous existence she leads. I wonder if I shall ever have the courage to bind her to me, to keep her life as long as my own holds true. I wonder if she would allow it. Such things hold dangers in themselves.

It is autumn now, and I stand in my courtyard as the burnt ochre and the sun-fire and crimson surround me, another year's weight of leaves spilling forth one last burst of color before they fell. A full year has passed since she left, and never before have I felt the press of the days so keenly. Without her they passed slow and hollow.

I wonder now as I have done with every moment passing if my shadow-lover shall return. I wonder if she is alive, I wonder if she is able to return. I wonder if she wants to. All I can do is wait, for that is what she has reduced me to. Everything else seems pale before the deep chasm of her absence.

At some point my eyes had closed, and I stand with the cool autumn breeze on my face with only the pinpoints of false fire against my eyelids. The air is clean and crisp with the smell of trees and stone. It bears little resemblance to her scent, which is sweet and spicy and fills my nostrils. I dream that I can smell her; I sink deeply into the illusion of her warmth. Her scent grows heavy in my imagination, until it overrides my senses. It is strong and heavenly; it is almost a physical presence.

Then it is a physical presence; a hand, soft and warm, that touches the side of my face and cups my cheek in a familiar gesture. Only she touches me so, and only she will I allow to do so.

I open my eyes to her face. It is gentle and beautiful in expression, illuminated by the slowly fading autumn light. A leaf is tangled into her wind-blown hair, and I reach up and gently remove it. She smiles, and kisses me then, on my lips and my brow and anything within reach. She speaks softly between each one, little breaths of apology for being gone so long.

I feel a smile on my lips as she winds her way down my neck. I wonder if she can see the joy in my eyes. Surely the swell of feeling that has come upon me is being reflected there. Little by little she is cracking my impassive shell, and little by little I am letting her.

"It has been too long," she murmurs against my skin.

I kiss her deeply, and feel my nature begin to take hold. I try to keep the beast at bay, but she simply kisses me again, and guides my hands to the fastening of her clothing.

Later we lie under the moon, naked and glorious on the drifts of leaves, surrounded in the shadows by the dying flames of fallen trees. She watches me in silence, her body unmarred by my claws and my teeth, excepting for a small mark at her collarbone. Her fingers idly run over the healing edges. Soon, all that will be left is a scar, a mirror of the one that my shadow-lover has left on my own body. She had made her choice and accepted my claim.

I hear my own voice break the darkness, broaching a question I had not meant to ask.

"Do the others know you are returned?"

She reaches to me, and whispers in my ear.

"No. I came to you first."

It was autumn when my lover returned

It was autumn when she came to stay 

And every autumn when the leaves blow wild

Upon a bed of fire we lay.

A.N.:  Just a little one-shot. I wrote this for a fanfiction contest. Can you guess the theme?