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Disclaimer: I don't own these marvelous characters; they are the property of Rumiko Takahashi (Inu-Yasha). I merely torture them at will and put them in uncomfortable situations whenever possible.

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Queen Kikyo

(A death-fic based in the Naraku's Angels Universe)

Note: This odd little one-shot death-fic takes place two years before the events of the first Naraku's Angels fic. And yes, it's a serious piece. I realize that's a bit of a shock, coming from me…

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My breath came in short gasps, a choking sort of cough that teased me with its promise of the sweet air. The air would never be mine again. Instead, the salty liquid of the ocean poured into my lungs.

I suppose it's only natural that my thoughts turned to those whom I was leaving behind me. After all, to love and be loved – is this not what humans truly desire? We trudge through our dreary, short lives doing the best we can do, but in the end, it's not always enough. Not if there is no one to care if you breathe.

He cared; in fact, he still cares. Despite everything I've done to drive him away, he cares. And as anyone will tell you, I've done plenty.

I wish I could blame him for my unhappiness. Oh, I claim the reason I take the drugs and drink the numbing alcohol is because he makes me so upset, but everyone knows I'm lying. Even I know I'm lying, but I say the words anyway. If I don't say them, I might have to admit the truth out loud: I am the one who makes me unhappy.

Suikotsu understands. He's the one who holds me when I'm going through the horrible withdrawal symptoms. He's the one who gently cradles my head as I heave the contents of my stomach onto the ground. And he's the one who gives me the magic pixie dust I so crave.

So why can't Inu-Yasha understand? Part of me knows the answer. My husband still sees me as that frightened sixteen year old girl he met on the beach, the fellow runaway who was just as hungry and desperate as he was. When he looks at me, I know he doesn't see the bitter, hardened, chemically-altered woman that I've become. Instead, all his eyes can see is the girl he swore to protect.

He was the sun, back then. Not literally, but in the afternoon light of that day on the beaches of Oahu, his golden eyes seemed to glow with an unearthly sort of beauty. We were lying on the sand, our minds fuzzy and relaxed from the joint we'd shared, and our bodies lazily entwined in the afterglow of our lovemaking. It was then that I knew he saw me as more than a passing interest. From that moment on, there was nothing casual about sex between us.

I've given him that, I hope. Inu-Yasha may come to hate me one day for all that I've done to him, but he has to know within his heart that every time my body lay beneath his, I gave him all of me. I held nothing back, loving him as much as my frozen heart was able.

That's why I killed his baby. I couldn't keep our child, knowing I would never change. When you're in bondage to the powdered demons, you know what a terrible person you are. You know the people who love you are destined to follow you into the hellish flames, and you know that you'll be the one to drag them there.

How could I do that to the child of the man I loved? How could I bring an innocent life into a world of addiction, force the baby to suffer the wracking torment of withdrawal when only hours old? Suikotsu tried to tell me otherwise, tried to tell me I could stay clean for the duration of the pregnancy.

And while his mouth was blathering that nonsense, my hands were holding the razor, cutting the powder into fine lines.

I've surrendered my freedom. I've accepted this, accepted my prison. And part of the time, my prison isn't such a bad place to live. When my blood is singing, when my brain is wrapped in euphoric madness, when all the sights and sounds in the world seem to be crystallized into a single astonishingly clear thought, that's when my prison becomes a palace. I rule the world, and I am its queen.

Queen Kikyo. There's a lovely phrase. I suppose I'm Inu-Yasha's queen, for he has elevated me above the rest. He has placed me on a dais, set me before the rest of the populace as a figure to be worshiped. And worship me he does. All of his time and money are spent trying to see to my needs.

It's just a shame that I need so much.

Perhaps this is why I surf – it fulfills a need. When I'm on my board, I feel alive; when I'm on dry land, I am a walking zombie. I love riding the ocean, feeling the rolling waves beneath my feet. There's a magnificent power rushing through my soul, knowing the tumultuous waters must submit to my command. I once surfed during the approach of a hurricane, damning the tempest about me and demanding total surrender. Queen Kikyo, indeed.

And on this peaceful day, when the waves are pleasant and hardly dangerous, King Ocean has chosen to take me as a bride. I smiled at the man surfing beside me, at peace as I slipped into the welcoming blue liquid. Naraku thinks he's hurting me, but he doesn't realize he's setting me free. The Shikon Jewel he has stolen from around my neck is a small price to pay for my release.

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"Looks like another case of fish food," the young man told his companion, fingering the toe tag. Working in the hospital morgue tended to bring out the macabre humor; it was the only way to survive such a depressing job. "Where's this one headed?"

"Family still has to do a positive ID on her," the other orderly replied absently. He was always up on the latest gossip. He slid his coworker a knowing look before continuing. "Doc Suikotsu did a preliminary identification. Funny, but he seemed to know exactly where her scars could be found."

The first orderly snorted, pulling back the sheet covering the woman in order to look at her face. "She was pretty enough, I suppose. I wonder what they'll list as the cause of death." He fingered the visible needle tracks on the dead woman's arms.

"If she's connected to Suikotsu, it'll be listed as drowning. It amazes me how the toxicology reports from the lab always disappear when it's his patient. Now cover her back up; you don't want her to catch a cold, do you?"

"Yeah, that box gets kind of chilly," his companion joked back as he pulled the sheet over the body.

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Inu-Yasha stood in the room, staring at the sheet-covered body. He couldn't bring himself to look at her face, but he'd described her tattoos and scars. They had checked out with Doctor Suikotsu's identification. It was sickening, really. He couldn't stand to look upon his own wife's dead face, but Kikyo's lover could.

His wife, the girl he'd met on the beaches of Oahu, was really and truly dead. The police officer had left the room, murmuring something about giving him a few minutes alone to say goodbye. Didn't that cop realize she was already gone?

And just how did you say goodbye to someone who spent every waking hour putting you through hell? She'd cost him a fortune, skating in and out of drug rehab. She'd had an affair with Doctor Suikotsu and flung it into his face. Then, just when Inu-Yasha had gotten her clean and sober for what seemed like the millionth time, just when their marriage seemed like it was going to work, she'd killed his child growing within her womb.

If only she'd been as successful at killing his love. That was the worst part, really, knowing that in spite of all the shit she'd done to him, he still loved her so damn much! Inu-Yasha felt the hated wetness on his cheeks; he angrily scrubbed the tears from his face.

He wasn't here to say goodbye. Those words just didn't seem right. "Rest in peace, Kikyo," he finally spoke to the corpse he couldn't bear to identify. "Hell has finally set you free."

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A/N: This was written in response to a rather snide comment from my sometime collaborator and fellow bishy-torturer, Sophie-chan. Even though I am an alternative pairings junkie, she claimed I wouldn't be able to write an Inu/Kikyo piece. After reading this fic, some of you might be tempted to agree with her… Lavender