Author's Note: Well, it's been a ridiculously long road for such a relatively short story—but at long last, here is the final chapter (and epilogue) of God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen. Merry Christmas! Hope it was worth the wait… (--grin--)

EDITED (8/31/09)

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

Chapter 8: Peanut Blossoms and Pistachio Ice Cream

Beep—Beep—Beep—

Inuyasha groped sleepily for his alarm clock, hitting the snooze button and releasing a grateful sigh as the aggravating noise ceased.

He was just beginning to drift off again, sliding back into the sluggish waves of his alcohol-soaked sleep, when a realization appeared at the edge of his consciousness, and his eyes snapped open. Frowning at the neon-blue digits as they flipped from 7:47 to 7:48, he tried to figure out what it was that had struck him as odd. His eyes slid over the pale wood of the nightstand, up the silver spiral base of the table lamp, across the white wall reflecting the cool morning sunlight that shone indirectly through the sheer curtains covering the window—

That was it—morning. It was morning. All at once, the strange and surreal events of the previous night came rushing back to him, and he sat up in bed, tossing aside his plush down comforter and putting his feet on the floor. A sudden twinge in the general vicinity of his skull stopped him from getting all the way to his feet, and he scrunched his face against the pain, resting his forehead in his hands for a moment.

Had it really happened? He couldn't be sure. He had had a lot to drink the night before—and the more he recalled about the details, the more unbelievable it all seemed. A visit from his dead brother? Traveling through time and space? Seeing the future? If he were to repeat any of it to anybody, he'd probably be committed on the spot. And what's more, he had fallen asleep to a showing of A Christmas Carol—and it wasn't uncommon for one's dreams to take on elements of the events of one's day. Sure—he'd been watching A Christmas Carol, he'd been worrying about the Amatext deal, he'd been upset over the fact that Kagome had left, and he'd been drinking like a sailor—it would have been surprising if he hadn't had a weird dream or two.

And yet…

Well, it didn't really matter, did it? What mattered was that, real or imagined, he couldn't get the image of that one, lonely rose resting on his mother's tombstone out of his head. What mattered was that Kagome was gone, and if he didn't do something about it, she wasn't going to come back. What mattered was that he had made a lot of mistakes over the course of a lot of years—and starting today he had a chance to correct them, one by one. He just hoped it wasn't too late.

He pushed himself to his feet, adrenaline and an invigorating sense of purpose and determination flooding through his veins as he hit the button to turn on his laptop, grabbed a towel from the linen closet, and hopped into the shower. After a few minutes of quick scrubbing and shampooing, washing off the stench of alcohol and the grime of a very long day, he got out and dried off, wrapping a towel around his waist and heading back to the computer. He opened the Tetcom browser and logged onto his account, slipping on some boxers and grabbing a pair of dark blue jeans and a white t-shirt from the closet while the program loaded. Pulling on the blue jeans with one hand, he clicked on the "write email" icon with the other, and typed in the subject line, "Important." That was as far as he got before he lost his balance and fell over, earning himself a rug burn to the knee for his trouble—but he merely grunted and finished putting on his jeans from a sitting position before standing up and snatching the t-shirt off the bed. Sitting at his desk properly, he slipped the t-shirt over his head and began to type hurriedly:

I've been thinkig about the Amatext deal some more—maybe it's not such a good idea to dismantl it after all. I want to look into other options. Put the deal on hold, reevaluate the financials, and have your proposal ready for teh board meeting next Tuesday—I'm cancling the one on Friday. I'm going out of town, and with any luck I wont be back for a few days, so everybody can have the rest of the week off—pass it along.

Inuyasha

Forgoing spell-check in his haste, he located Miroku's email address in his contact list, clicked "send," and got up without even bothering to close the confirmation window. Grabbing his wallet and keys from the nightstand, he slipped them in his pockets, pulled on a dark green sweater from the closet, and paused, facing his reflection in the full-length mirror by the bedroom door. He looked alright—a little sloppy, but presentable. He usually wasn't the type to be concerned about his appearance, but he needed every advantage he could get if he was going to make this work. And he had to make this work.

Satisfied, he headed for the door, snatching his black cloth overcoat off the hook as he left the apartment. The elevator seemed to take an eternity to arrive, but when it finally did he pressed the button for the parking garage six times, as though it would somehow encourage the elevator to move faster. It didn't. As they inched downward, the poor, impeccably-dressed older woman who had the misfortune of sharing the small space with him shrank into the corner and eyed him nervously as he paced back and forth like a caged tiger. When they reached the lobby, she slipped out past him gratefully, though he'd barely noticed she was there in the first place. Finally the elevator reached his parking level, and he stepped out the moment the doors opened, making a beeline for his Mercedes.

He was driving a bit too fast for a parking garage, but he didn't care. And anyway, it was Christmas morning—who would be out driving around right now? Besides idiots like him, of course. When he reached street level, he barely slowed down to swipe his access card and allow the gate to open before tearing out into the city streets and winding his way downtown to the Holland Tunnel and out of Manhattan. Soon he was out on the open highway, headed northeast on 280 with the radio blaring. "It's that time of year, when the world falls in love…" crooned Frank Sinatra, and what would normally have made Inuyasha roll his eyes and change the station instead made him smile and start to sing along. Of course, he got most of the words wrong, and the key wasn't even close, but he didn't care. It didn't matter if he did everything completely wrong, as long as he at least tried. The only true mistake was to be so afraid of doing something wrong that he did nothing at all. He was done doing nothing.

Around the time Inuyasha hit East Orange, New Jersey, somewhere in a comfortable and crowded house in the suburbs of New York, his financial advisor kissed his wife and stepped out of the kitchen, telling her he'd only be a minute, he just wanted to check email, and they should go on in and start passing out presents. He sat down at his desk and woke up his computer, maximizing the browser and finding one new email in his inbox—one from his boss, marked "Important." Opening it up, he perused the brief, hastily written paragraph, a smile coming to his face. He called out to his wife, and she appeared in the doorway behind him, sounding curious. Take a look at this, he said. She did so—and her smile matched her husband's by the time she'd finished. They exchanged a knowing look, and then she patted him on the shoulder. Come on, Taro's waiting. They left the study together, rejoining their family in the living room.


He pulled to a stop in front of the sloping, snow-covered lawn that spread out from the doorstep of Kagome's parents house. It was a comfortable old house, built of dark, sturdy brick, with a roofed front porch that stretched the width of the façade. The inside, he knew, had been renovated more than once over the generations, so that the house was now a mix of the quaintly old and the efficiently new. Although it was nowhere near as physically imposing as the house in which he had grown up—just as Kagome's parents were nowhere near as remote as his father had been—he had always been somewhat intimidated by this house. Kagome was very close to her parents—their opinion mattered to her a great deal, and despite their welcoming him into their family, he'd always harbored a deep-seated fear that sooner or later they would realize he didn't deserve her. Now that he had seen that very fact proven to him in vivid detail, never before had he been more intimidated by the sight of this house than he was now.

His blinding determination had gradually ebbed away the closer he'd gotten to his destination, leaving him with a paralyzing fear. For several minutes he sat there in front of the house, the car still running, trying to convince himself to just suck it up and do it. All the good intentions in the world wouldn't save him if he couldn't start backing them up with actions—and if he couldn't, then everything he had been through, everything he had learned, would be for nothing. Finally, he took a deep breath, gathered his resolve, and turned off the engine.

As he marched up the slippery driveway, he turned his collar up against the chill wind and stuffed his hands into his pockets, wishing he'd thought to bring a scarf. Entering the relative sanctuary of the porch, he reached out to press the doorbell, hesitating briefly as his doubts resurfaced, but then silencing them with the muted chimes from within. He listened intently, his heartbeat quickening when he heard footsteps approaching.

The door opened to reveal Kagome's mother, her expression running the gamut from curiosity to surprise to understanding and cool expectancy in a matter of moments.

"I know she probably doesn't want to see me, and I'm sorry for just showing up like this, but…" he faltered, wishing he could see some hint in her face of which way she was leaning—but no luck. He couldn't read a thing. "I really need to see her," he finished.

She observed him in silence a moment, and he felt himself losing ground, so he rushed to add, "Please—I swear I'll go if she wants me to. I just need to talk to her for a few minutes."

Heaving a sigh, she stepped aside and nodded her head toward the interior of the house. "She's in the living room," she offered.

"Thank you," Inuyasha exhaled gratefully, rushing past her—and he wasn't sure, but he thought she gave him what might almost pass for a smile as he did so.

But there was no time to worry about Kagome's mother at the moment—he had bigger obstacles to overcome.

He stepped into the crowded living room, which was scattered with people, stacks of newly opened presents, and discarded wrapping paper. He opened his mouth to say Kagome's name, but couldn't seem to find his voice—so he just stood there, speechless, as one by one the occupants of the room noticed his presence and cut off their conversations. Kagome, sitting on the carpet in her pajamas and open bathrobe near the fireplace on the opposite side of the room, was the last to look up.

"Hi," he said lamely as she quickly got to her feet, gaping at him.

Her eyes darted around, scanning all the upturned faces that were taking in the scene with interest. "What are you doing here?" she asked him.

"I know you said you needed time to think, but I had to see you," he replied. "Is there someplace we could go and talk?"

Her spine straightened and she lifted her chin slightly, almost defiantly. "I don't think so."

He gave a wry laugh, and met her gaze steadily. "Fine," he agreed, his determination only growing, "then I'll say what I have to say right here."

She raised her eyebrows, thrown off guard. Clearly she had expected him to argue—now she didn't know quite what to do. "Okay…"

Now it was his turn to cast his eyes over the faces of Kagome's relatives, some of whom he had only met a handful of times. But he'd come this far already—if he was going to do this, he was going to do it all the way. "Something happened to me last night, after you left. I don't know if it was real, or if it was just the alcohol talking—" He laughed wryly. "If I told you about it you'd never believe me, but…whatever it was, it was real enough. I saw what my life was like before I met you; I saw what my life has been like with you, and how I've managed to screw it up every step of the way; and I saw what my life would be like without you—and I didn't like it. Not one bit."

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and crossed her arms over her chest, her expression still impassive—but he could see her struggling to hold it there, and he felt hope rising in his chest. Maybe he had a shot—maybe he really could make this work.

"I know I've been a complete idiot most of the time, and I can't promise that I'll never be an idiot again—I tried that, and it never worked. But I can promise you that I know now what I've been doing wrong and why, and if I can prevent it, I will never let you get hurt again—even if it means protecting you from myself."

A hint of a smile pulled at her lips at that—but there were tears in her eyes. And he wasn't sure they were the good kind of tears. She took a deep breath, swiping at her eyes and looking down at her hands as she considered her response.

He swallowed, his jaw tight as he waited, torn between the need to urge her along and the fear of saying the wrong thing. "Well," he said quietly, "what do you think?"

She looked up and gave him a sad smile. "I'm not sure. I mean," she added, quickly, "I know you believe what you're saying, but…I've heard this song before. I just don't know if I can believe that anything is really going to change."

The silence that followed was a heavy one. Inuyasha could feel everyone's eyes on the pair of them, waiting to see what he would do. What could he do? Everything he'd done so far—everything he'd ever done to apologize to her—it wasn't going to work. He had to prove to her that he had changed. He had to do something she couldn't possibly expect.

Her shoulders fell slightly—he could feel the "no" on the horizon. He was running out of time.

"Pistachio ice cream," he blurted out.

"What?" she replied, puzzled, half worried he was having some sort of stroke.

"That's what you had—the night we saw that play in the village, and then we went to the square and I told you about Kikyo."

She frowned, bewildered. "What are you talking about?"

"And the day I met you—I was reading Harry Potter at Starbucks, and you came up to me, and I acted like I hadn't noticed you, but I had."

"You had?"

"Why do you think I was there so often?" He gave a small smile. "And then I took you to see Blazing Saddles at that old rerun theatre on twelfth street. You put your head on my shoulder, and I got freaked out, so I went to get popcorn. And when I came back, I wanted you to lean on me again, so I kept nudging the popcorn away from you so you'd have to reach for it."

She laughed.

"And the day I asked you to marry me…I almost didn't. I was standing in that line, and the ring was burning a hole in my pocket, and I was thinking 'what the hell am I doing? This is ridiculous'—and I was just gonna order a mocha, say hi, and get the hell out of there. But then I got to the counter and I saw you, and I knew that if I wasn't going to suck it up and go through with it, I might as well just keep walking and jump right into the ocean, because if I couldn't spend the rest of my life with you, there'd be no point in spending it with anybody. Right then, in that moment, I would have agreed to live under the counter of that Starbucks if it meant I'd be with you.

"And then, somehow, I forgot all that. It got mashed down underneath all the other crap I've been carrying around with me all these years. I know it's too late, and I know all this is my fault—but I want to be that guy again. He's still in here somewhere—I know it."

She was looking directly into his eyes, every nuance of her expression telling him that she wanted to believe him—she wanted to so badly. But there were still questions to be answered—and they weren't the sort of questions that could be dealt with so easily.

Finally, she took a deep breath, letting it out on a long sigh as she turned her considering gaze to the Christmas tree, and then to the dining room table where lunch had been laid out. "I'm hungry," she murmured, and then she flicked her eyes back to Inuyasha, calling a silent truce. "Would you like to stay for lunch?"

He nodded, understanding—it wasn't a decision, yet, but she was opening the door. She wasn't going to make it easy for him—he hadn't expected her to. She had always been too easy on him—he realized that now—and he had taken advantage of it. He was going to have to earn her forgiveness for once. He was going to have to earn her trust. And after living his entire life without earning a single thing for himself, seeing where that had gotten him, he was glad to do so.

Inuyasha remained for the rest of the day, visiting with Kagome's relatives and testing the waters with her every so often—though he got the feeling she still needed some space from him, so he gave it to her. After dinner, Kagome's mother invited him to stay the night, rather than getting a motel or trying to make the drive all the way back to the city that evening. He accepted—but of course, he would be sleeping on the couch.

Long after everyone else had shuffled off to bed, Inuyasha still lay awake. He rolled over so that he was facing the back of the couch, trying to get comfortable—but it was impossible. His back was twisted awkwardly, and his feet stuck off the end, making the lack of back support even more pronounced. But none of that would have mattered if he hadn't been so preoccupied with thoughts of his wife sleeping soundly upstairs.

Finally, he gave up on trying to sleep and pushed himself to his feet to go steal one of Kagome's mom's peanut blossoms from the kitchen. He leaned against the counter, staring at the dim streetlight shining through the curtains over the sink as he munched on a cookie—and another, and another—and he kept thinking of Kagome.

Things were going relatively well. He felt like he'd made a bit of progress at dinner—but he still got the distinct impression that there was an invisible wall between them, and she had no plans to take it down just yet. He was still on probation—still awaiting the final judgment. In the end, no matter what he did, she still might say no.

He couldn't let that happen—not without a fight. He needed her too much. At one point in his life, perhaps not so long ago, it would have made him furious to think that he needed anyone at all—but none of that seemed to matter anymore. All that mattered was her.

After polishing off his fifth blossom, he slipped out of the kitchen to head back to the couch—but somehow, he couldn't seem to pass the stairs. Hesitating only briefly, he changed course and mounted them silently, tiptoeing down the hall to the room at the end. He grasped the cool handle carefully and eased the door open—just to look at her, just to watch her sleep for a moment or two. Maybe then he could imagine that everything was right again, and he could get to sleep himself.

She was lying on her side turned away from him, but even so he could tell she was awake. He saw her flinch and stiffen slightly as the door opened, her whole body listening to him as he entered.

"Kagome," he whispered.

She pretended not to hear.

"Kagome, I know you're awake. Can I come in for a minute?"

She sighed, and then nodded against her pillow. He wasted no time in taking advantage of the window she'd given him, closing the door behind him quietly and coming to sit on the edge of the bed. She flicked on the bedside lamp, rolled over to face him and pushed herself into a sitting position, brushing her rumpled bangs out of her eyes.

For a moment, they simply looked at each other, and Inuyasha was struck anew by how beautiful she was. It had been a long time since he had really looked at her. Sure, he had seen her many times throughout the memories he had relived the previous night—but it was completely different to look at her and actually see her looking back. To be not just near her, but with her.

"I couldn't sleep without you," he said.

She gave a small smile and laugh, settling herself back against the headboard. "I haven't been sleeping much myself lately."

"You haven't?" he asked hopefully.

She shook her head. And then she looked at him seriously and said, "Don't think it was easy for me to leave. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done. But I had to do it."

"Why?" he asked, before he could stop himself.

"Because I wouldn't know if it was the right thing unless I tried it."

"And was it?"

"I don't know yet."

He nodded his understanding and settled back against the headboard beside her, watching her profile.

"What made you come after me?" she asked finally, still staring straight ahead at the wall opposite.

He grinned wryly. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me," she said, raising a curious eyebrow.

"Okay," he replied. "Have you ever seen A Christmas Carol?"

Now she looked at him full-on, dubious. "Yes…"

"Well, it sort of happened to me last night."

She frowned. "You're joking, right?"

"Nope. 'Course, I can't really be sure that it was real—I was a little drunk, and I caught part of an old movie version of it on TV that evening, so I might've just made the whole thing up. But…I guess it doesn't really matter if it was real or not. Whatever it was, it…opened my eyes to a few things."

"What kinds of things?"

"Myself, mainly. Things like why I've been sort of pushing you away these last couple of years. And…about the baby."

She stiffened and turned her gaze away. "What about the baby?" she said quietly.

He wanted to reach for her hand, but they were folded in her lap, and he wasn't sure she was ready to let him, so he played it safe. "There were some things I never told you. I meant to, really—but when everything, you know, happened…I just didn't know what to do."

He paused, giving her the opportunity to stop him, and himself a chance to prepare to say what he needed to say—but she remained silent, and he took that as his cue to go on. "I know I said I didn't want the baby, but—that wasn't true. I was…scared. I was really scared…that I wouldn't be any better at being a dad than my old man was—or maybe that having another person around to care about would just make it that much easier to…lose one of you. And then when we—when things went wrong, I didn't know what to do. I was so worried about you and so mad at myself for not having been able to protect you both, and so wrapped up in how much I was hurting and how much I didn't want to hurt that I…I didn't even realize at first how much you were hurting too. And even when I did, I didn't know what to do to make it better. I didn't know how to be there for you. But I wanted to. I always want to be there for you."

By this time, silent tears were rolling down her cheeks as she stared into the space in front of them. She sniffed a bit and swiped at her eyes with her right hand, swallowing, but not looking at him. Still, when she set her hand back down, it was on the comforter in-between them—and he took a chance, sliding his hand into hers, lacing their fingers together. She didn't pull away. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and she closed her fingers around his as well.

"I know I haven't been here for you like I should have been lately. I know I haven't been talking to you like I used to. But please, Kagome, believe me when I say that that's going to change. I'm here now. There's nowhere else I want to be."

Her thumb stroked the back of his hand reassuringly, and she nodded quietly. "I believe you."

They sat in silence for a few moments, and then she breathed a sigh and said with a small smile, "I really should get some sleep. I promised Mom I'd go after-Christmas-sale shopping with her in the morning."

He nodded his understanding and made to leave—but her hand tightened on his ever-so-slightly, making him stop and turn back to look at her with a question in his eyes.

"It's alright. Stay," she murmured.

His heart lifted at the words—and so did the wall between them as he slid beneath the covers and settled in behind her, wrapping her in his arms. He had never felt so relieved and comforted to have her nestled up against him as he did in that moment—and finally he felt as though he could breathe easily again. The worst was over, her slow, even breaths seemed to assure him. There was more to be said and done, but the worst was over—they were going to be alright, eventually.

"I love you, Kagome," he whispered in her ear.

She settled back against him a little more cozily and breathed back, "I love you, too, Inuyasha."


A/N: Well, this chapter really was mostly written as of a year ago, but I had a hell of a time figuring out the right approach to the last half of it. It was all fine up to the point where he walks into the living room—but then I got stuck. I tried a couple different things (most of which crashed and burned) before I finally found something that worked. Basically, I wanted it to feel natural and "difficult" enough without being anticlimactic. I guess it's up to you to decide whether or not I was successful… (--grin--)