Kagome stared at her reflection in the small round mirror in airplane's toilet, and it was something of a sense of shock that she took in the image peering back at her. Thick, silky hair black as the night hanged in soft waves to slender shoulders, vivid sapphire-blue eyes under finely arched brows, clear, creamy skin …
It looked like her, admittedly, she thought numbly, and yet how could pain and frightening bitterness of the last months not show on the face of the girl who gazed back at her? But she had always been good at hiding her feelings. The thought brought her small chin up in unconscious defiance of the voice inside her head telling her she couldn't do this, that she should have stayed in Canada where everything was safe and normal, that she wasn't strong enough yet to strike out on her own. 'You are a survivor, Kagome Higirashi.'
She brushed back the wispy fringe from her forehead as she spoke out loud, and on realizing her hands were trembling she clenched them into fists at her side. 'You are.' The azure gaze became a glare that dared her to contradict it, 'And you are going to make it.' The future might not be what she had imagined for herself this time a year ago, but so what?
The narrowed eyes with their abundantly thick lashes were unflinching. She could either wallow in self-pity, or eventually let it drown her, or she could make a new life for herself—a life where she called all the shots and where she was answerable to no one. Life on her own terms. She nodded at the declaration, her slim shoulders straightening. Once back in her comfortable seat in the first-class section of the plane, she ignored the none too subtle overtures from the man in the next seat, who had proved a pain for the whole of the journey from
Vancouver, and endeavored to prepare herself for the landing at Heathrow. Then, once she had battled her way through the terminal, she could pick up the car one of Inuyasha's business colleagues had arranged to have waiting for her arrival and, bingo, she was on her way, she told herself firmly. And so it proved. Within short time of the plane landing she was ensconced in a little blue fiesta, her luggage filling the boot and back seat and spilling over on to the passenger seat at the side of her. It took her several attempts to navigate her way out of
London but she did not panic. After the bottomless abyss of the last months what was getting lost in the overall scheme of things? Kagome asked herself caustically on eventually finding herself in the outskirts. If nothing else she had learnt what was important and what was not. Autonomy was important. Being able to choose what she wanted to do and when she wanted to do it. She flexed her long slim legs at the memory of her endless months in the wheelchair and drew in air very slowly between her small white teeth.
She might still get exhausted very quickly, and the self- physiotherapy the doctor had taught her would have to continue for some months yet, but she was mistress of her own destiny again. And it could have all been so different. The horrendous accident that had taken Harper could so easily have left her in a wheelchair for life. All things considered, she was lucky. The thought mocked the devastation of what was left of her life, but Kagome reiterated it in her mind almost defiantly. She was lucky, she told herself firmly.
She fought back the consuming thick grey blanket of depression which had weighed her down in the early days, throwing it off with Herculean resolve. She had climbed out of the dark, mindless pit of that time and she was blowed if she would allow herself to be sucked into it again by self-pity. And everyone had been so good to her, and still continued to be. Of course they all felt sorry for her, she acknowledged a trifle bitterly. She knew exactly what they'd been saying.
The car accident, her fiancé being killed, Kagome's struggle to emerge from the coma she had been in for days after the collision only to surface to the realization that she might not walk again—it was terrible, they'd said soberly. No wonder dear Kagome was depressed and apathetic. And she had let them believe what was convenient. She hadn't told a living soul the real reason for the suicidal emptiness of those early days and she never would. The strident honking of an oncoming car brought
Kagome sharply back to reality from her black memories, and, although the other driver's anger was directed at a smart red sports car which had deliberately cut across its path, the incident was enough to nudge her mind fully back to her driving. The November day was bright but bitterly cold, bare branches of trees reaching out into a silver-blue as the car ate up the miles along the pleasant countrified route Kagome was following. It was just after three when she reached the small Sussex town she had been making for, and she was exhausted. She glanced at the carefully written instructions she'd fixed to the dashboard and followed them to the letter. Within ten minutes the car had turned off the tree-lined road of prosperous-looking homes and on to a wide pebbled drive in front of a large, sprawling detached house.
'Veterinary Surgery.' Never had two words looked sweeter. Kagome cut the engine, leant back in the seat and stretched her neck, running her hands through her hair before massaging her scalp lightly. The drive had been a short one compared to the long hauls she was used to making as part of everyday life in Canada, but it was times like this that her body reminded her—all too stringently—that she wasn't quite so well as she would like to believe. Still, all she had to do now was collect the key of Essie's cottage from Sesshoumaru Takahashi, who now owned the practice, and follow his instructions for the last mile or two. Easy. She rotated her head once more and climbed out of the car, walking across the drive to the big old-fashioned oak door and ringing the bell before stepping back a pace. The seconds ticked by, and after a full minute
Kagome tried the bell again. And again. When that didn't bring a result she turned the big brass doorknob and stepped gingerly into a large square hall, the white and black tiles on the floor spangled by the autumn sunlight. The hall was empty, and so was the reception area beyond it, but just as she seated herself somewhat uncertainly in one of the straight-backed upholstered chairs dotted about the bright and cheerful waiting area, a large middle aged women popped her head round the door lading from the hall.
"Are you Kagome? Inuyasha's niece?" It was rushed and harassed, and Kagome only managed a quick nod—opening her mouth to speak before the women cut in again with, "We've got an emergency. I must get back. Wait there and Sesshoumaru will be with you as soon as he can."
Then the door closed again and all was quiet. Great. Kagome stared blankly across the space. She hadn't expected the red carpet treatment or anything like that, but a, Hi, how are you? Or a, Nice to meet you, wouldn't have come amiss. She eased her flat leather shoes off her feet and dug the fingers of both hands into the small of her back, working tense, bunched muscles for some moments before settling back with a tired sigh and shutting her eyes. She might as well relax while she waited, she decided drowsily. No point in getting ruffled. She let her head fall back against the whitewashed wall behind her and was asleep in the next moment.
When Sesshoumaru walked into the reception area five minutes later he had a apology hovering on his lips, but instead of a possibly irate or testy young women confronting him he saw Kagome. Fast asleep, her midnight hair in silky disarray, thick eyelashes lying like smudges on the pale cream of a skin that looked to be translucent. Impossibly lovely and quite alarmingly fragile. He stopped abruptly, ebony eyes' narrowing into slits of gold light, and he remained like that for a good few seconds before glancing at his watch. Five minutes and she was sleeping the sleep of the dead; she must have been out on her feet. Still, that wasn't surprising.
He knew Inuyasha and Kikyou had been hotly against this young woman making the journey from Canada alone, but Kikyou had informed him—ruefully—that Inuyasha's niece had a lot of her uncle's stubbornness. It was in the genes. He hadn't expected her to be quite so beautiful; her photo hadn't done her justice. The thought came from no where and Sesshoumaru brushed it a side irritably, his strong, chiseled face hardening.
This was Inuyasha's niece and she had been through hell; whether she was beautiful or not was irrelevant. She needed peace and quiet and looking after, although the last part was to be done without her knowledge. But he'd promised Inuyasha and Kikyou he would keep an eye on this young women and he would. In a fatherly fashion.
He glanced again at the lovely face, the dusky red lips lying slightly open in a small pout, and felt his senses stir before he turned sharply, making his way through the heavy fire door into the rear of the building and walking to the end of the corridor, into the surgery's neat, shinning kitchen. Rin was in there, her plump, good-natured face flushed and perspiring. "The coffee's nearly ready." "She's asleep." He inclined his head towards the door "But thanks anyway. I'll take the tray through in a minute and wake her up.
And thank you for helping out to; it would happen today of all days." They had just dealt with the canine victim of a road accident, and due to the fact Sesshoumaru had sent his two assistant vets out on calls, and the practice nurse was off ill with the flu, there had only been Rin—his very able but slightly squeamish receptionist—to assist whilst he conducted the emergency operation the dog's injuries had necessitated.
But all had gone well and that was the main thing. Rin smiled at him now, nodding at his face as she said, a touch of laughter in her voice, "Wipe the blood off first, eh? You're liable to frighten the poor girl to death like that." Sesshoumaru flicked a glance in the square mirror above the sink as he muttered, "Shit."
He wiped the blood off his chin and one angular cheek bone before raking back a lock of silver hair from his forehead with his damp hands and making a effort to smooth down the rest of his unruly locks, "I need a haircut." "I've been telling you that for weeks," said Rin with a motherly sigh, The trouble was, Quinn couldn't care less about his appearance, she thought fondly.
Considering the quite shattering ruthless attractiveness of the man that seemed to make him irresistible to every female he came into contact with, he was the most modest individual she had ever met. And that in it self proved to be an added fascination. The magnetism he exuded was lethal, but because he neither understood nor wanted it he simply didn't acknowledge it existed. This was typical Sesshoumaru, really. As her eighteen-year-old daughter had said when she had first set eyes on him. "Mum, he's walking dynamite!" "Put a few of your shortbread biscuits on, Rin," said Sesshoumaru now, indicating the tray with a wave of his hand. "She looks like she needs feeding up a bit." "For goodness sakes don't tell her that," Rin said quickly, her face horrified.
Another of Sesshoumaru's attributes—she wasn't sure if it was a virtue or not—was an alarming tendency towards directness which cut through all equivocation and flannel and went straight for the heart of any matter. It was refreshing in a world where most people were falling over backwards to present themselves in the best light possible, but it did not cause problems. And yet he was the most compassionate soul she had ever met. An enigma. Rin nodded at the thought.
That was Sesshoumaru all right. Kagome was still fast asleep when Sesshoumaru walked through with the tray of coffee and shortbread a few minutes later, but this time he didn't allow himself to meditate on the delicate beauty and far too slender form slumped in the chair before he gently shook her awake. However in the few moments before she opened her eyes he found himself reflecting that this paternal role he had told himself he would adopt might be a little…inappropriate.
The photograph he had received of Kikyou's wedding, which had taken place under blue Caribbean skies in March, had seemed to suggest that Kagome, who had been Kikyou's bridesmaid, was tiny, thin little waif of a thing, Mind, she had been in the early days of recovery from the accident and still in a wheelchair, he reminded himself ruefully. He should have taken that into consideration.
To be continued
