A/N: Sorry for the delay! It's been a busy couple of weeks, and I had a bit of writer's block. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, and in no way make money from the production of this work of fiction. It's for entertainment purposes only.

Searching for Love, Sleeping with Danger

Chapter 2

All was still inside the house, and I knew everyone else was asleep, and it was no wonder, it was fast approaching half past 10. It was actually far later than I had intended to stay out, which made me glad I hadn't opted for dinner and a movie. Who knows what time I would have arrived home? I stood there a moment longer before I removed my heels, taking solace in walking barefoot through the house. It served a second purpose as well; it allowed me to move freely without fear of alerting my mom, my brother Souta, or my Grandpa. Sure, it was silly to sneak around my own abode, but for some reason I felt it necessary. At all costs, I wanted to avoid any conversation that might steer towards how my date had gone.

I was over it, and I didn't want to relive any of the horrid moments. I crossed over to the kitchen, making a beeline for the fridge and the ice cream waiting for me. If there was ever a time I needed the comfort of the frozen treat, it was now. I crept my way up the stairs and headed down the hall to my bedroom, eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. Foregoing the light to the left of the doorframe, I instead, set my pint of Ben & Jerry's onto my desk, stripped down, felt my way to my robe on the back of my bathroom door, and entered, fully intent upon a shower.

Yes, I wanted nothing more than to sink into bed, but there was a fine tension stretched taut between my shoulder blades that very much needed to be relieved. I hit the light switch, cranked the water onto full blast, and climbed into the shower, thoughts taking on a bleak disposition.

How had it come to this? Why was I so unlucky in love?

I suppose it all started with Inuyasha. I had given him everything—my love, my devotion, my abilities—and yet he discarded me like a used tissue. His affection for me was fleeting, and only served as a salve for his wounded heart. After all, Kikyo—it pained me to even think of her name—was his first and only love, and everyone and everything came second to his absolute obsession with her. Although we'd spent tender moments with one another, Inuyasha still chose Kikyo over me, and that hurt more than any deep wound. Instead of raging against the cruelty of it all, I bottled up my feelings, stashing them away as I said goodbye to the Feudal Era, and the friends I'd made there, for the final time. The Well was sealed, and I was left wondering what to do with my life.

I'd spent so much time living in the past I was now uncertain how to press on with the future. I'd had hopes, dreams and aspirations before Mistress Centipede hauled me into the Well, but now all of them seemed far off, intangible, and unobtainable. It took me a while to get back on my feet, especially considering the significant gap between me and my classmates, but I pushed through, driving thoughts of my recent heartbreak from my mind, and instead fixing my sights on a career as a nurse. University followed soon after, and by that time my pain had abated to nothing but a dull and distant throb. Intent upon avoiding the anguish of yet another failed relationship, I fixed my eyes on the prize—my degree—pushing away potential suitors, and disregarding any romantic feelings I might have felt for them. Only agony awaited me along the path to love, and I didn't need yet another setback keeping me from achieving my future goals.

So, when Luke came around I was instinctively distant, cold, and unfeeling. I could not—would not—let another man into my heart. I was certain it couldn't take another ounce of abuse, so I steered clear of him, cautious as ever, guard up at all times. But his persistence and charm wore on me, and his teasing was just too endearing to ignore. He was handsome to say the least, with a smile that could melt the resolve of any woman, me included. At 6'3" he was tall enough to be imposing, yet just the right height for my curves to mesh with every contour of his body. I fought my attraction to him at every turn, avoiding every opportunity to be alone with him. But fate had other ideas, and I soon found I was seeing more of him, whether it was in my classes or on campus. I mean, it made sense, after all. We were both studying for a career in the medical field and a majority of the courses were required by all concentrations. I, however, chalked it up to a higher power taking joy in tormenting me.

When Luke and I were paired up for a group assignment, it came as no surprise. It was bound to happen at some point, and what better time than when my defenses were at their weakest? Despite it all, I was pleased by this development, and though I was concerned that I might crack, falling for him harder than I'd ever fallen for another, somehow I didn't mind as much as I should have. I was right, of course, about giving into my feelings for him, but damn if I didn't care.

After all this time, I'd found true, unadulterated happiness. Our one magical first date turned into many more until we were dating on the regular, and finally a true item. Luke was everything I wanted in a man, and was the healing balm I needed to mend my broken heart. I felt whole again and my guard slipped completely, leaving me exposed, and eager to love again.

I only wished I'd kept my defenses up. Perhaps they would have lessened the blow dealt just one year after Luke's marriage proposal.

I suppose there wasn't anything especially odd about that day—it was just another quiet Sunday afternoon. Luke was on his return trip from his parents' house; in fact he'd called early that morning to let me know he was leaving. I was reluctant to get out of bed and instead remained there, basking in the morning sunlight peeking through the curtains, warming me from head to toe.

At a quarter to 11 I rolled out of bed, hair poking at odd angles on my head, daring me to wrestle with the nest of knots and curls my tresses had wound themselves into last night. After a shower and breakfast, I drove to the Shrine, intent upon helping Gramps with the chores, and assisting my mom in the kitchen. By the time 1 o'clock hit, I had organized an old storeroom, cleaned last night's dishes, washed and folded a load of laundry, and helped my mom prepare lunch.

Worry settled in a tight knot at the base of my stomach, growing with each second that ticked by. I reached for my phone, fingers itching to dial Luke's number, but I hesitated, setting it down on a nearby table and joining my family for lunch. He was driving and I wanted him here safe and sound. I'd just finished my food when the house phone rang. I moved to answer it, but my mom stopped me, a gentle hand on my shoulder, coaxing me back into a sitting position.

"I'll get it dear," she said, and took a few brisk steps to the far wall.

She picked up the receiver with a customary "Higurashi Residence," and paused, listening to the person on the other line. I turned away, starting to clear my dishes, as well as Gramps' and Souta's from the table. Really those two could be such slobs sometimes, always eager to get out of housework that didn't involve their own rooms (in Souta's case), or the Shrine (in Gramps' case). By the time I'd traveled the short distance from the table to the sink, my mom had hung up, her features drawn tight into an expression I could only describe as forlorn.

"What's wrong?" I joined her by the phone, eyebrows furrowed with concern. "Is everything alright?"

Her eyes shifted from the spot they had settled on, and rested on my face. That's when I saw the start of tears shimmering, brimming and on the brink of spilling.

"Oh, Kagome . . ." She gathered me into the tightest hug she'd given me since dad died, which left me with a strong sense of unease.

She stroked my hair, and her entire frame shook with suppressed sobs. I clung to her, not knowing what else to do, waiting patiently for her to reveal the reason for her tears. She withdrew, wiping at her eyes which still shone with remnants of her sorrow, and shot me a solemn gaze that rattled me to the core.

"It's Luke . . ." she said at last, and the world seemed to tilt violently, stealing my proper balance and throwing me against a nearby counter.

"Tell me he's okay," I said, my voice weak, and distant. "Tell me he's coming home."

My mom looked away for a moment, and after a deep, shuddering breath, shook her head.

"No, no . . . There was . . . an accident . . ."

My hands were in my hair, tugging at the strands, trying to make sense of the news being delivered. My knees gave out on me, and I collapsed at the base of the counter, trembling, eyes unseeing as they filled with an endless stream of tears. My mom joined me there, gathering me tight to her breast and rocking me slowly, her own tears spilling into my hair just beneath her chin. Ages melted into millennia, leaving me unsure of how long my mom and I sat there wallowing in shared despair, swallowing deep sobs, and just trying to make sense of it all.

Only after a lucid calm had settled over me, interrupted by the occasional hiccup, did my mind start to deny the severity of the situation. Just because Luke had been in an accident did not mean it was a fatal one. As long as he was alive and well, minus a few injuries, there was no real reason to think the worst. I was determined to believe this, imagining in my mind's eye Luke dressed in bandages and lying in a hospital bed, his trademark grin marred only by a deep cut and some bruising on the right side of his face. I clung to this image, hoping against hope that it would turn out to be a reality.

Even still, as I clung desperately to the conjured images in my head, something in me knew that wishful thinking would fail in this circumstance. This seed of doubt obscured the optimistic picture I had painted myself, darkness eating away at the edges as it drifted further and further away from my grasp. My gut wrenched in anguish, as my mind turned over the infinite number of worst-case-scenarios, none of them pleasant and all of them terrifying.

I gulped down a short burst of air and withdrew from my mom's embrace, steeling myself against more devastating news.

"What happened to him, mom?"

She dabbed at her eyes with her apron, and sat there clutching the end, eyes fixed on her lap. After several moments she returned her gaze to mine, a newfound strength there.

"Luke was about 20 minutes away from here, when a driver ran a red light, struck the driver's side of his car, crushing and—" she paused, wringing her hands in her apron, "—killing him . . ."

The last was uttered on the tail end of a sob, which was quickly followed by a burst of tears. I shut my eyes against the image of Luke's tragic end as droplets of my own sorrow started to flow once more. This time however the flow was endless as the finality of it all hit me square in the chest. He was gone—he was really gone. My whole body ached with the implications of his untimely death, stiffening my muscles, yet at the same time setting my mind racing. The thought of him never returning home, of never being able to hold him in my arms again . . . it was just all too much to process in that one singular moment.

So I let myself cry, allowing the evidence of my despair to wash away all the overly optimistic hope I'd had. My one light and joy had been taken from me, stripping away the last of my defenses, leaving me bare and exposed. I curled myself into a tight ball, drawing my knees to my chest, shaking with sobs and ruining the knees of my jeans. But I didn't care. All I wanted in that moment was to see Luke again, to tell him how I felt, to lay with him and plan our future together like we'd always intended to do.

A shiver passed through me as I thought of all that could've been, but now, because of an unfortunate twist of fate, could no longer be, rage boiling just beneath the surface of my skin. It just wasn't fair! Why him? Why did it have to be Luke? Why was my happiness always stripped away from me? As my anger intensified, so did my malice toward the careless person that had caused this mess. I found myself hating a stranger, wishing ill will upon them for having caused me such pain. I knew it wasn't right, but damn if I didn't care. If I was to suffer upon this Earth because of the reckless actions of another, then they could stand to suffer equally as much, if not more so.

I drew in a deep breath, bringing with it an eerie calm that loosened my limbs, and cleared my mind. As much as I yearned for a swift delivery of punishment to be dealt to the one who had taken my Luke away from me, there were more pressing matters to attend to. Luke's parents had to be notified. The thought alone was terrifying enough to keep me rooted to the spot. Heaven knows they would take it that much harder than I had, and I was certain I could not stand to be the one to deliver the news, not when I was still reeling from the blow myself.

To hear Luke's parents break down over the loss of their son would shatter what little resolve I had managed to dredge up in the wake of my ire. I knew if I started crying again, there would be no end to it; the waves of sorrow would take over, and the likelihood of recovering and attempting to move on with my life would be damn near impossible. Loss was like a disease that crippled the mind and body, hollowing a person out until there was little to nothing left of their being. Only a shadow of that person's former self would remain, and they would go about their lives merely existing.

I didn't want that, but my sense of duty to Luke's parents would have none of that, and it was that single-minded, responsible purpose that drove me to my feet and the short distance to the cordless phone. I reached across the counter for the receiver, storing a gulp of breath in my lungs as I prepared for the worst. I didn't realize my hand was shaking until I felt my mom's warm palm against its clammy surface. I looked to her pain-filled eyes, knowing we shared the same anguished expression, and back to the phone clutched loosely in my hands.

"I'll tell them," she said simply, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze before taking the phone from me.

She withdrew her hand from mine, and I allowed it to drop to my side, lifelessly, relief settling my raging thoughts, and easing some of the tension locked tight between my shoulder blades. Gratitude warmed my face, and I was once again flush with tears. I felt so powerless in such a crucial moment. As much I didn't like it, allowing my mom to deliver the news to Mr. and Mrs. Huang made me feel that much better. With this sense of ease came an overwhelming fatigue that could not be ignored, settling like a deep, penetrating ache that affected my bones, and placed tiny weights upon my eyelids.

Maybe this was all just some sick, twisted dream my mind had conjured up to rattle me, and I would wake up moments later back in my bed in my apartment, awaiting Luke's arrival. I stumbled my way to the couch, sank into its aged cushions and held onto this idea like a beacon to stave off the darkness that was swelling up inside me, threatening to consume. If all of this was a dream, I simply had to ride out the worst of it until I was roused from my slumber.

I foolishly held onto this notion, that is, until I had to identify Luke's body at the morgue.

Prior to that, I'd floated through the events leading up to this key moment, detached and distant, clutching my little flame of hope close to my breast. As long as I didn't react to all that was going on around me, I would be fine. Dreams could be painful, but nothing hurt worse than reality. The latter was a nightmare you couldn't wake up from, and there was no way to undo the truth it presented, good or bad.

My mom drove me to the morgue after filling Souta and Gramps in about what had happened. They offered me kind words and warm embraces, but I remained steadfast in my belief that this was all some trick played upon me by my mind. To anyone I appeared the perfect picture of a woman in grief, all numb, silent, and hollow, and I suppose in some ways I had been. No one knew I had steeped myself so deep into a pool of denial that I refused to acknowledge the facts even as they played out in front of me.

Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at the city morgue, and met Luke's parents there. I offered them physical comfort when no words were forthcoming; they wouldn't help ease anyone's pain anyway. I'd only known Shiori and Satoshi Huang for a short time, but I knew them to be strong individuals, appearing unmovable even in the face of calamity. Not that I expected them to be any less affected by news of Luke's accident, I just hadn't expected them to seem so . . . faded. There was really no other way to put it. They appeared as though they'd been run through the wash one too many times, leaving them bleached of color, pallor put in stark contrast with hollows, and dark circles I hadn't recalled being there before. Shiori's petite form was dwarfed by Satoshi's taller, lanky one, and she clung to him, knuckles white and eyes cast to some far off place. I wondered if I too looked as they did, but quickly dismissed the thought, and instead headed our group to entrance of the building and through the automatic doors.

Once inside, Satoshi gave his name to the desk attendant and we were led by an examiner to a room on the basement level full of stainless steel drawers that no doubt housed the bodies of others. He led us towards the back of the room, and we waited as he consulted a chart with a list of names on them.

"Huang, is it?" He adjusted his glasses on his face, expression somber, and complexion pale beneath the rays of fluorescent lights beaming down on us.

Mrs. Huang nodded, clutching her husband's hand, before leaning into his chest for moral support. I stood there, a little set back from the others, watching the scene play out before me in slow motion. The examiner approached a drawer on the right, pulled it out, and with a silent nod beckoned us over. We all ventured closer, proceeding with all the caution of a prey anticipating the ambush of a nearby predator. I followed behind my mother, inadvertently using my mother's back as a shield meant to protect me from the harsh image of the reality I refused to acknowledge. As much as I wanted to be there for Luke's parents, I also wanted to continue to dwell in the hope-filled fantasies my mind saw fit to conjure up.

My mom and Luke's parents gathered in a small semi-circle around the drawer, and I kept my distance allowing them to obscure my view. A moment of silence passed followed by the hiss of a sheet being carefully removed. Two gasps perforated the air, followed by a deep sob coming from Mrs. Huang. She thrust herself into her husband's arms, clutching him tight as she started to wail wordlessly. My mom looked away, shoulders hunched. Without looking, I knew she was crying as well. With Luke's mom no longer part of the semi-circle, I caught a glimpse of the body just a few feet away. I swallowed hard, forcing myself closer; it was the only way I could confirm if all that had happened in such a short span of time was real.

Several hesitant steps later brought me within view of the truth I'd sought.

Breathless and weak were the only words I could use to describe how I'd felt in that moment. With Luke's body lying in front of me, there was no way to deny, no way to not see it. He was dead and gone, and no matter of wishful thinking could change that. He was so pale, skin appearing translucent beneath the scrutiny of the lights above. His shoulder length, black hair, hung freely, appearing washed out, and lacking the usual luster I had remembered. And on identical sides of his lower torso, there were bruises speckled in black, blue and green hues, bisected by a railroad of stitches and staples.

I couldn't even bring myself to look at his face, not full on at least. I was so terribly afraid these gruesome images of him would haunt me, and overshadow the memories I had of him when he was still alive. The last shook me to the core, and I turned away, face already saturated by tears I didn't remember shedding. I fumbled away, gaining some much needed distance from the scene, eyes screwed shut to block out the sickening movie reel of Luke's corpse playing over and over again in my mind. I found myself on the floor, back to the nearest free wall, body awash in uncontrollable tremors. I brought my knees to my chest, clutching them to me to stop myself from shaking, but it was no use. Nothing I did could put an end to it. In that moment, all that I'd hoped, all that I'd dreamed would be, vanished.

What future did I have to look forward to now?

My mother came to me shortly after, joining me on the floor much like she had in the kitchen, and gathered me into a tight embrace, strong enough to offer me the comfort I so desperately needed.

The days that followed whirred by faster than anyone could imagine, and before I knew it, Luke was buried, and I was returning to a cold and empty apartment.

It was the strangest experience, really, returning there with the knowledge that never again would I share precious memories with my beloved again. The walls seemed to be saturated with snippets of joy long since passed, and that hurt more than the past few days combined. It left me feeling empty, hollow, and lonely, and no matter of kind words could remove the stinging pain of his loss. Whenever I was there alone, my mind would drift off to dark places which even now frighten me. I contemplated things I'd never thought my mind could fall victim to, which is why I elected to move back home with my family for safety and sanity reasons.

In this, I hoped to find the will to move on with my life, but no such strength was forthcoming, and so I moped around, and took a leave of absence from school, because I sincerely lacked the drive to move forward. I was stuck in limbo, and I didn't know how to get out, not without help, that is.

Thank goodness for Souta. Had it not been for him, I would still be lounging about in the living room until 4 in the afternoon in my pajamas, ignoring the vicious pull of an empty stomach.

On that day, he'd found me on the couch as described above, staring at the TV screen with unseeing eyes.

"Hey, Sis. Mom is making Oden tonight, wanna help?"

I pulled my knees to my chest and shook my head, burying my face in the crease they created. The TV went black and I realized he must have turned it off. As weary as I was, I didn't have the heart to chew him out, and so I remained as I was, studying the insides of my eyelids, and trying so very hard not to think.

The couch dipped as he joined me, but I refused to acknowledge his presence. If I ignored him long enough he would go away; it worked every other time I'd done it, and I didn't see any reason why it wouldn't now. However, Souta refused to be shut out, and so he took me by both shoulders and fixed me with one of the most livid expressions I'd ever seen him pull. Naturally, his touch drew my attention to him, and I was startled into silence.

"Dammit, Kags," he said, shaking me a bit after his words. "When are you going to wake up? You're wasting away and the worst thing about it is you're just letting it happen."

He dropped his hands from my shoulders and I let out a breath as though a great weight had been lifted from me. He dropped his gaze a moment, before returning it to my face, some of the edge from before melting away to reveal a gentle sincerity.

"What happened to the Kagome I remember, the one that overcame every obstacle thrown at her, and finally graduated high school, huh? Or the Kagome that used to tell me to follow my dreams no matter what? Where has that Kagome gone? As far as I can tell, she's nowhere to be found."

My face flushed and I opened my mouth, a retort burning at the tip of my tongue, but Souta would have none of that.

"I know what you're going to say, so save it. It's no excuse to give up on life, Kags."

He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair before offering me a look of pity.

"It's a shame really. You were just one semester away from graduating University with a BSN, and now look. At the rate you're going, I'll have graduated before you and moved on with my life."

He stood then, grabbing the remote and switching the TV back on.

After a pause he said, "Dinner will be done in an hour. Enjoy your show."

I stared after him, in utter shock at his words. Had I really been wasting away like he said? I knew the answer I just wasn't in the right sort of mind to readily admit it just yet. Yes, his words cut me deep, but they were also the push I needed to forge ahead. After all, just like before Inuyasha, before Luke, I'd had hopes and dreams and a future to work towards. Even if now I had to alter my future plans and goals, omitting the parts that involved Luke, there were still things I wished to accomplish in this life, and graduating from school with a Nursing degree was one of them.

At the very least, Luke would have wanted that for me.

So in two months, I was able to get myself back on track. I graduated at last, feeling fulfilled and that much better about myself for having taken control of my life again. Even though I was working as a Phlebotomist at the local hospital, and it was not where I wanted to be in the scheme of things, it nonetheless gave me a reason to strive for better.

At age 27, I never expected to be living at home with my family, floundering in a dead-end job, and seeking prospects for love. Most women my age were settled down and married, working the job of their dreams, or at least close to landing one.

But hey, who was I to complain? Such was life, after all. Circumstances could always be changed, for better or for worse. Luke's passing taught me that. And besides, if I truly worked on each of the former aspects, eventually I could create a better life for myself. But such feats could only be accomplished one step at a time.

After twenty minutes, I shut the water off and stepped out of the shower, reaching for a towel to stave off the chill in the small space. Using the light from the bathroom as a guide, I turned my desk lamp on and proceeded to dry myself off before donning a pair of pajamas and clamoring into bed, pint of ice cream in hand. I finished what was left of the sweet treat, feeling as empty as the carton.

Yes, things had not turned out as I would have liked, and yes, I was working to change that, but at the same time, a setback like tonight's date made me all the more eager to give up and settle for the hand life had dealt me.

Surely I could live in peace and refrain from complaining too much if I didn't exactly have everything I wanted, right?

I frowned at that knowing full well the notion was impossible. There was always room for improvement, but some things took precedence over others. Like love for instance. Maybe I wasn't 100 percent ready to start up a new relationship, but the least I could do was get myself out there.

I sighed and rose from my wrinkled bedspread to toss out the ice cream carton and to shut off my desk lamp. Darkness flooded the room instantly, leaving me momentarily blind to my surroundings as my eyes adjusted to the lack of illumination. Proceeding with caution, I made it to my bed, sliding beneath the sheets, intent upon getting as much rest as I possible. Tomorrow was another day, one I hoped to get through with little incident.