Author's Note: Mea Culpa! I have quite obviously failed in my promise to finish this story by Christmas (that is, Christmas 2006…), but I can nonetheless promise you that it will be finished, and that it very nearly is finished. This chapter has been written since December (all it needed was some editing), and chapter 8 (the final full chapter) is almost completely written as well. There's also probably going to be a brief epilogue, which is partially written, but the main goal at this point is to finish the body of the story itself. Anyway, without further ado, here is chapter 7…

EDITED (8/31/09)

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

Chapter 7: One Lonely Rose

He blinked awake, finding himself in darkness once again, staring up at the ceiling—but this time his memories didn't slip away so easily. Especially the sound of Kagome's tears.

He took a deep breath and released it slowly. If Sesshoumaru was to be believed—and at this point, Inuyasha could hardly claim not to be a believer—there was still one more spirit due to appear: The one who would show him the future. He couldn't exactly say he was looking forward to it—in fact, when he thought about it too much, it scared the shit out of him—but whenever he tried to shrug it off and go back to sleep, the image of Kagome's unchecked sobs played across the insides of his eyelids like a movie, and he found himself staring at the ceiling again. As much as he really didn't want to go through with this, somewhere deep down he knew he needed to. It was his only hope.

"Inuyasha," came a somewhat stern and well-worn voice from the shadows, and Inuyasha frowned in its direction.

"Who's there?"

"My name is Kaede. I'm—"

"The third spirit," he finished for her, sitting up and putting his feet on the floor obediently.

The old crone raised two curious eyebrows at his docile response. "From what I've heard about you, I expected to have a lot more trouble getting you out of bed."

He shrugged, trying to look and sound unconcerned. "Hey, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Besides, I figure the quicker we start, the quicker it's over."

"Very wise," she replied, just a bit too knowingly for his liking.

"So, where to?" he asked.

She had already turned and begun to walk into the shadows. "Follow me," she beckoned.

A rather cramped but homey living room materialized around them. There was a little fireplace on one wall with a couch and an armchair set around it, and a TV that was a couple of years out of date was sitting in the corner. The table was scuffed, though it didn't quite qualify as an antique, and the couch was a bit threadbare, in need of reupholstering sometime soon. A pinkish-orange glow suffused the air from the sunset that filtered in through the window shades.

"Where are we? I don't recognize this place?"

"You wouldn't," Kaede replied. "You've never been here before."

"Well then, what are we doing here?"

"This is the house of the Miller family. They live at 146 Bunson Street in Hoboken, New Jersey. Mrs. Miller is a housewife—she takes care of the home and the Millers' four children, and she also cleans houses three or four times a week to pick up a little extra money to contribute to Nick's—their oldest—college fund. He graduates this year, and he's already been accepted to Princeton with a good deal of financial aid, but if the family can't scrape together enough money to pay the rest, he's going to have to defer and start working full-time until he's earned his way."

"Well that sucks, but I still don't get why we're here."

"Patience, Inuyasha. I'm coming to that."

A door opened and closed somewhere just out of sight, and within moments a balding, browbeaten man appeared around the corner, setting down his coat and briefcase beside the battered old piano and slumping into the nearest armchair, his head in his hands.

"Who's that?" Inuyasha asked.

"That's Bill Miller, husband, father, and former bookkeeper in the accounting division of Amatext Incorporated."

Inuyasha glanced quickly at Kaede, then back to the man sitting before them. "'Former'? What did he do?"

"He didn't 'do' anything, Inuyasha, except work 40 hours or more a week in a thankless, dead-end job for nearly twenty years."

"Well if he didn't do anything, then why did he get fired?"

Kaede gave him a wry look. "You of all people ought to be able to figure that out by now. That's what happens when corporations are bought and then dismantled and sold for parts—people get laid off, families get lost in the shuffle."

He crossed his arms over his chest and grumbled, "Then why do I get the feeling you're trying to pin the blame for this on me?"

She smiled shrewdly at him, choosing her words. "Tell me, Inuyasha, what were your reasons for deciding to purchase and dismantle Amatext Incorporated?"

He was slightly caught off guard by the question, but he shrugged and answered, "They were in the process of going under, and Miroku said he thought it was the right time to do it. Can I assume from all this that the deal goes through and we buy the corporation?"

Kaede nodded. "But Miroku wasn't the one who recommended dismantling the company and selling off the pieces, was he?"

"No—actually, he wanted to just absorb the whole thing into our organization with only a little minor restructuring. He said their foundations were still solid—their problems were mainly on an executive level."

"Then why didn't you do as he suggested? He is the head of your financial division, isn't he? Why not take his advice?"

Inuyasha shrugged again, still not sure where this was going. "I didn't want to take the risk. Is there a point to all this?"

She was still giving him one of those "superior" looks he hated so much—one of those looks that said, "I know something you don't know"—but she didn't seem willing to divulge her secrets just yet. "I just find it interesting that you would choose to ignore the advice of the man who is clearly best acquainted with your company's finances. Is it possible you had an ulterior motive for making the decision you did?"

Inuyasha slanted her a wary look—now he had a sneaking suspicion of where this was going. And he wasn't too crazy about it. "Anything's possible," he grumbled noncommittally. And then, venturing to change the subject, he nodded toward the man in the armchair. "What's going to happen to him?"

"He'll survive. His wife, Marie, will take on a few more cleaning jobs to help get them through this rough patch, and he'll help out with the kids while he's looking for work. Nick will defer his admission to Princeton and take a second job doing construction for a year to save up the tuition—though he'll have to transfer after a year, when the money runs out again. Bill will get another job with another company for only a little less than he was paid at Amatext. Leaning on the love they all share with one another for support, the Millers will get back on their feet again.

"But what about Harvey Grier," she continued, "who worked in one of Amatext's printing plants, who fell off the wagon when he lost his job, lost his wife when he fell off the wagon, and lost his apartment when she kicked him out of it? He robs a convenience store and ends up spending most of his days sitting on an old crate at the corner of Broadway and Eighth street, begging for spare change. Some of these stories have happy endings—but others don't."

"Oh come on—you can't go putting all that on my shoulders," Inuyasha scoffed angrily. "I may not be any kind of saint, but you can't blame me for screwing up the lives of all the people who just happen to fall through the cracks in these big deals. Sure, it sucks, but that's business—that's life. I can't be personally responsible for every one of them."

"No, that's true, you can't," Kaede conceded. "But there's a difference between conducting normal business and using your business to satisfy personal needs. The moment that a deal becomes more about your own personal vendettas than about what's best for all considered, you become responsible for each and every life you destroy in your wake."

Inuyasha met her stern gaze unflinchingly, but he could think of no sufficient reply, so he eventually turned away.

"Come—we have to be moving on."

Relieved that at least they were leaving this conversation behind them, Inuyasha followed her—but when he took in the scene they had now entered and deduced, much to his dismay, what must be going on, he wished he could go back and mope with Mr. Miller.

The room was clean, crisp, and professional—not unlike many of the conference rooms that were sprinkled among the offices at Tetcom headquarters. The only very slightly older Inuyasha and Kagome sat across from one another at the end of a long table made of highly-polished burgundy wood. Next to Kagome was a woman in a sharp black pantsuit, her dark red hair neatly parted just a little to the left and tucked efficiently behind her ears. Next to Inuyasha was a man in an equally black suit, his salt-and pepper hair also neatly parted, just a little to the left. Between them on the table was a document made out in triplicate, all attention focused upon it somberly as though it were the guest of honor at a funeral.

"Well then," said the red-haired woman, her hands folded neatly before her on the table, "if there are no further problems, all that remains is for you both to sign the agreement."

The older Inuyasha glanced up from the table, but he wasn't looking at the woman who had spoken—he was looking at Kagome. He watched as she took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her eyes never leaving the paper. Finally, she reached forward and took the fresh, black pen that sat beside the settlement, pulling the forms toward her and only hesitating a moment before scrawling her signature at the bottom of the page, and then again several more times in the required places. And then, without meeting his eyes, she slid the papers across the table to Inuyasha, who paused a bit longer before doing the same.

He slid the completed document back into the center of the table and set the pen down beside it. There it was: The End. Somehow it was much quieter than it seemed it ought to be.

The black-suited man reached out and gathered the documents, passing one copy each to Inuyasha and Kagome, and rapping the edge of the last one sharply against the table to straighten up the edges as he got to his feet. "Congratulations Mr. Takahashi, Ms. Takahashi—you are officially divorced." He offered a hand to Inuyasha, who shook it absently. The red-haired woman shook hands with Kagome as well, and the two strangers exited the room with quiet efficiency, the door clicking shut behind them and leaving the pair in heavy silence.

Inuyasha stared at the door handle, a blank expression on his face. Finally, for the first time during the entire meeting, Kagome looked up at him. When he felt her eyes on his face, he met her gaze.

She gave him a small, slightly strained smile—a vain attempt to seem at ease—but he couldn't return it. Another moment passed in which someone could have said something—but no one did.

She slid back her chair and got to her feet, still trying too hard to seem "fine" and act as though a major chapter in both of their lives hadn't just ended in a shambles. "I should really get going," she said, though she didn't actually move toward the door, standing there fiddling with her purse instead, as though she was waiting for his permission to leave. He nodded, but said nothing, and she hesitated a moment longer, teetering on the edge of saying something a bit more substantial—but then she decided against it, turning toward the door instead.

Still, as she gripped the handle, something stopped her. Sighing, she turned and leaned back against the door with a wry smile. "I was lying awake all last night thinking about us, wondering how we got here. My parents have been happily married for thirty-five years—I guess I just always assumed that when I got married, it would be for good." She glanced down at the expired wedding ring she still wore on her left hand—apparently she hadn't yet been able to bring herself to take it off. "I was trying to figure out what could have gone so wrong—why we fought so hard against each other, why I left that day, why I stayed away. And then I realized something: I left because…I wanted to see if you would come after me. Not because you had to, or because you thought it was what I wanted, but because it was what you wanted. I needed to know that you needed me the way I needed you. But you didn't." She paused, smiling morosely as she ran a finger delicately along the edge of her copy of the divorce settlement they had just signed. "At least I got my answer."

Finally, she slipped the ring gingerly off her finger and stepped back over to the table, setting it down next to his hand. Glancing up at him, she murmured, "Goodbye, Inuyasha," and turned to reach for the door that led out into the hallway.

He closed his fist around the now empty ring, and just as she was turning the handle—"Wait." She turned back, a curious expression on her face. He closed his eyes briefly, collecting himself before he spoke. "What if we give it another try?"

She tilted her head with a wry, weary smile. "Inuyasha, we just fin—"

He stood up, interrupting her. "No, wait—don't say no yet. I know my timing isn't great, but—I mean, maybe we're making a huge mistake giving up so fast. All the things you just said—they're still here somewhere, aren't they? What if we just…just start over?"

Heaving a sigh, she met his eyes, a note of sympathy coming into her expression as she observed sheer desperation hiding there. "You know, if you had said all that to me a year ago…I probably would have said yes. Who knows now if I would have been right or wrong to do so, or how long things would have lasted if I had—but it doesn't really matter now. Sometimes…it's just too late."

He stared after her until long after the door had closed in her wake—and then he sank down into his chair at the end of the conference table, dropping his head into his hands and gazing unseeingly at the paper that was all that was left of his second failed marriage: the love of his life, reduced to an inert mass of legal jargon all set down in black and white.

The incorporeal Inuyasha, having observed all this in silence, suddenly turned to Kaede, a new determination in his expression. For the first time in this whole insane experience, he finally felt like he was a step ahead. "That's it, isn't it—what she just said. It's the key to all this, isn't it."

"Inuyasha—" Kaede began, but he interrupted her.

"No, no, no, don't you go trying to confuse me with all that mumbo-jumbo—you guys have been screwing with me all night, but it's all finally starting to make sense: I have to go after her. That's what this whole thing has been about—to convince me to go after her and bring her home."

She shook her head pityingly, sighing, "Inuyasha, even you should know by now that it's not that simple. And I can see that there are still a couple of things you don't quite understand yet."

"What?" Inuyasha demanded, more frustrated than ever. "What don't I understand? Why can't you people just explain it to me instead of dragging me back and forth through time and throwing all these cryptic questions at me?"

But Kaede merely shrugged. "If we are successful, you will understand that very soon."

"And if not?"

"Only you can determine what will happen in either case. We are not here to live your life for you—we can only guide you on the path to self-awareness."

"Unbelievable," Inuyasha grumbled to himself—but Kaede had already turned and begun to walk away, so he had no choice but to follow her.

He blinked against the blinding afternoon sun, shielding his face with his hand until his eyes began to adjust. When they did, the sight before him took his breath away.

She was every bit as beautiful as she had been the day he had first met her. In most cases, that would be an exaggeration, but the harder he tried to find even the tiniest sign of aging anywhere on her body, the more convinced he became that it was true. If anything, she was even more beautiful than she had been when he'd known her. Her skin was tanned, smooth, and perfectly tailored to her lithe frame, seeming to glow in the sunlight that reflected off the surface of the pool. She was stretched out luxuriously on a plush lawn chair in a sheer black dress with a deep v-neck and a slit up the side that ran all the way from her ankle to her upper thigh. On her feet were black spike-heeled sandals studded with diamonds that matched the ones at her left wrist and throat. They were the sort of shoes that Kagome always called "chicken shoes": Which would break first—the heels, or her ankles?

They heard footsteps on the stone terrace behind them, approaching from the direction of the house at the other end of the swimming pool. Inuyasha turned, curious: It was Naraku, of course. Unlike Kikyo, he did show his age—but it was a very graceful age, highlighting his long, dark hair with gray and simply making him look more distinguished, more the self-made billionaire that he clearly had remained, despite the loss of his company.

"Kikyo," he said as he approached, and she glanced over her shoulder in his direction.

"What is it, Darling?" She removed her sunglasses gracefully as he took a seat on the edge of her chair. Her stunning features registered only slight annoyance at the interruption.

"I can't find my gray suit."

"Maria must have taken it to the cleaners. Why do you need it?"

"We're having dinner at the Bancrofts' tonight."

She frowned, slightly. "Since when?"

"Since they invited us a week ago."

"Well you might have told me," she replied testily. "I have plans."

"What sort of plans?"

"I was going to do my yoga and then paint for awhile."

"Well, you can do that tomorrow night."

"I suppose."

"What are you doing out here, anyway?"

"Meditating."

He chuckled. "Don't you have to sit cross-legged or something to meditate?"

"You only have to be comfortable—and this is how I'm comfortable," she answered with a coy shrug.

"Three-inch heels and an evening gown is how you're comfortable?"

She walked two fingers up his shoulder and tapped him on the nose, saying, "Why do you think I married you? And this isn't an evening gown—it's a sun-wrap."

"Of course—how silly of me," he replied with a smile. And then he bent forward slowly and gave her a gentle, lingering kiss. She smiled into his embrace and kissed him in return, toying with his graying ponytail with her bejeweled left hand.

As Naraku had leaned in, his intentions clear, Inuyasha had braced himself for the wave of jealousy and bitterness that threatened to engulf him whenever he was confronted with news of Kikyo and the reminder of what she had done to him. He'd always managed to keep it at bay in the past—but this was too much. Surely he wouldn't be able to guard against it this time. So he steeled his nerves against the impact, until finally their lips touched—

And nothing happened.

They were kissing—and he felt nothing. No raging jealousy, no anger, no seething desire to close the distance and tear Naraku to shreds, not even bitterness toward Kikyo for everything she'd put him through. Just…nothing. It was as though they were complete strangers; as though he were watching a movie. And he found himself wondering just what he had been defending against.

"I don't get it…" he murmured, dumbstruck.

"Something the matter?" Kaede questioned innocently.

"Yeah—I mean…no," he replied distractedly, half to himself. "I mean…shouldn't there be? Shouldn't I…?" He trailed off and stared at them again, until finally he felt a tugging at his arm.

"We still have more to see," Kaede nudged. "Come along…"

He turned reluctantly away from the scene, still trying to figure out why it didn't bother him, and barely noticed when the ground rippled underneath him, and he was suddenly somewhere else.

The leaves rustled in a cool spring breeze, and the sun shone brightly on the green grass that surrounded the large white awning shielding a sea of circular tables from the glare. Inuyasha stepped into the shade of the awning and scanned the area underneath: To his right the space was filled with tables, people scattered in chairs here and there, and a few half-eaten pieces of cake indicated the end of a meal. To his left, people in summer formalwear were crowded on the dance floor, laughing and chatting and swaying back and forth to the sound of a band playing Irving Berlin's, "How Deep is the Ocean." He recognized a face here and there, though he couldn't place any of them.

"What am I looking for?" he asked Kaede. "Give me a hint, at least."

Kaede smiled at him and jerked her chin, directing his gaze to a couple standing at the edge of the dance floor on the far side of the tent: It was Miroku and Sango.

He moved swiftly through the crowd, not bothering to dodge anyone or anything, until he was within earshot of their conversation.

"—can't really have expected him to come," Sango was saying to Miroku wryly.

"Well, no," he conceded. "I guess not. But it would have been nice if he could have made the gesture—not just for her sake, but for his own."

"I keep telling you, he's a lost cause. He's always been a jackass, but he's only gotten worse, especially in the last few years." Miroku opened his mouth to speak, but she continued before he had the chance, "And don't tell me it's been a tough time for him, because it's been a tough time for her too, and she's dealt with it just fine."

"You can't compare the two."

"Oh yes I can, and I'm going to—so there. Does he know yet?"

"That I'm leaving? No, not yet. To tell you the truth, I really wish I could wait until we get to San Francisco and send him an email—these days, it's best to deliver bad news to him from a distance."

"Coward," she teased.

"I freely admit it," he replied. "You wanna turn in my resignation for me?"

"No way—after this, I don't ever want to be in the same room with that guy again. I mean, really, this is the last straw. At least she made an overture—she invited him, didn't she? But did he have the balls to show up? No. Well, I say the hell with him."

"You know, you really shouldn't speak ill of the dead."

"What?" she said, confused. "He's not dead."

"He might as well be," Miroku replied ruefully. Sango gave a wry laugh and held out a hand to her husband. Taking the silent cue, Miroku finished off the last of his scotch, set the glass on a nearby table, and took her hand, leading the way onto the dance floor to sway to the music along with the other couples.

Inuyasha watched them go, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "They were talking about me, weren't they," he said to Kaede, though it wasn't really a question. Kaede remained silent—there was no need to answer. "Then this is…"

As if on cue, the crowd on the dance floor shifted slightly, affording him a nearly unobstructed view of the couple in the center of the floor. Kagome wore a long, white satin, sleeveless gown, her skirt swinging gently like a bell as she moved to the music. It was a different dress than the one she had worn at their wedding—and her hair was up this time, instead of down. He preferred it down, resting gently on her ivory shoulders and framing her heart-shaped face.

"And if I ever lost you, how much would I cry?" the singer crooned, as Inuyasha remained transfixed on Kagome's smiling face.

"How deep is the ocean…?

"How high is the sky…?"

When the music ended, he watched her lift her chin to kiss the man in her arms, and only then did Inuyasha realize that she was dancing with Hojo. She had married Hojo. And standing there, watching her find happiness in another man's embrace, Inuyasha knew without a doubt that he had never felt more alone in his entire life.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder—but when he turned, there was no one there. No tables, no chairs, no guests—no one.

Fallen leaves rustled across the cool, damp grass at his feet, and he glanced up at an eerily familiar scene. It was particularly disturbing because it had not yet occurred, and yet he felt as though he had been here before—in fact, he felt as though he had never left.

He saw himself dressed in a long black overcoat, a black fedora shielding his eyes from the icy gray sky. There was rain in the air, though none fell, and the trees that dotted the hillside here and there had lost all but one or two of their leaves. His older self stood before one of the many headstones that populated the area, completely still except for the edge of his coat, which wafted slightly in the breeze. He hesitated, afraid to approach the scene for reasons he couldn't quite name, but soon he stepped forward, his need for more information overpowering his fear.

When he was only a few feet away, he began to see the lines on his own face, a few around the eyes mainly, seeming to silently count the years that had passed since he had last seen Miroku and Sango, last seen Kagome, last seen Sesshoumaru, last seen his father, last seen his mother. The older Inuyasha extended an arm and placed a single red rose on top of the headstone, letting his eyes linger silently over his mother's name for a few more moments before bowing his head and turning to walk silently back down the hill, where he disappeared into the mist.

Inuyasha watched himself leave, and then looked back at the lonely rose still resting on the tombstone.

"Have you seen enough?"

The voice was most definitely not Kaede's.

Inuyasha whirled around to see Sesshoumaru approaching him as if from nowhere, looking exactly as he had when he had appeared in Inuyasha's apartment on that dark and drunken Christmas Eve, what now seemed like years before. "Where's Kaede?" he asked reflexively.

"Her work is done."

Inuyasha waited for him to elaborate, but he did not. Finally, he couldn't bear the silence any longer. "Dammit, what are you doing here? Will you just, for once in your life, give me a straight answer, please?"

Sesshoumaru replied with a stony silence, only feeding Inuyasha's frustration.

"Well you're here, aren't you? You must have a reason. Isn't this the part where you're supposed to give me the magical solution that will fix everything and make everybody live happily ever after?"

"You've seen what the spirits have shown you," the specter said gravely, as last, "You've seen where this road leads. The only person who has the power to alter this fate is you."

"So what are you saying—if I don't 'change my ways' I'll go to Hell? Lot of good that does me," Inuyasha scoffed, but Sesshoumaru didn't bat an eyelid.

"There's no such thing as Hell, Inuyasha. Hell is just a bedtime story that humans have invented to create some sense of justice in an unjust world, and to keep one another in line. There is no torment waiting for you in death except the eternal regret of all the things you failed to appreciate while you were alive. We each make our own Hell, little brother, right here on earth, through the choices we make." And with that, he turned away, walking back into the mist and disappearing a bit more with each step.

"That's it?" Inuyasha demanded, chasing after him—but he was moving away too quickly. "That's all the help you're going to give me?"

"You already have everything you need," Sesshoumaru replied, just before fading into the mist completely. Inuyasha slowed to a halt—he was completely alone now, and the mist seemed to be getting thicker and thicker. He whipped around, but he could no longer see his mother's tombstone or any of the other headstones he'd passed on the way. Everything was white, and seemed to be getting whiter and whiter and whiter…

And then, somewhere far away, as though drifting on the wind from a distant town, he heard the gentle toll of a bell.

A/N: Well, what do you folks think? I have to say, I'm actually rather proud of this chapter myself (well, parts of it at least. It has its weak moments…). I wrote it a few months ago, then left it alone while I was working on other projects, so when I came back to it it was almost like reading it for the first time. I had completely forgotten about a couple of these little scenes…

Oh, and I think it's made pretty evident in the narrative, but just in case: I do not own Irving Berlin's "How Deep Is The Ocean"—I believe that would belong to Irving Berlin…