A/N: I'm a bad bad author. *spanks self*

The faint sounds of crickets surrounded them as they sat under the dark night sky. The grass tickled against his exposed ankle as the wind drifted through the field. She sat beside him with her feet tucked under her. Her hair was down, a style he'd only seen her wear a handful of times. Her chocolate strands drifted lightly in the cool breeze.

Miroku shifted in his seat to better see her. She was as usual beautiful, but her eyes seemed to glint abnormally bright in the moonlight. Her soft smile touched her eyes as she looked back at him, returning the gaze. Her kimono wasn't her normal pink and green frock. She was in her sleeping robes, white as the stars. He glanced down at himself and found he was in a similar state of dress.

Sango tilted her head and closed her eyes, breathing in the night hair. "The season is about to change."

He nodded dumbly, unsure of why they were sitting in a field in their bedclothes.

She opened her eyes and stared out at the meadows before them. "I missed you while you were away, Miroku."

The monk stared at her for a moment before asking, "Was I gone?"

She nodded, her bangs bobbing lightly as if her hair was floating in water. "For so long…"

Miroku, conflicted by the current imagery and his memories of her rejection, found himself unable to grasp a direct chronological line of thought to how he came to this point. Back to Sango.

"I thought you did not want this." He watched her, waiting for her response.

Her eyes did not meet his, but her hand came up to rest on his against his knee. "That was not the case. M-my brother…"

"Kohaku?" He nudged her to continue.

She nodded, but dropped off the rest of her sentence. They sat again in silence for some time until she spoke again.

"I did not think he would live. When the shard—" the young woman's voice seemed to fall at that point.

"When the shard was removed," Miroku finished for her. She nodded. "Sango? Is Kohaku still alive?" He looked at her wide eyed.

She turned to look at him and nodded slowly. "He is. In his own way."

Miroku, knowing by the look on his love's face that it wasn't necessarily good news, remained sober. "Sango, in what way?"

Somewhere in the distance he caught the mating call of a frog.

For many moments the two sat there, staring at each other or the view. Miroku began to wonder if the woman was ever planning to answer him. But then she spoke, carefully and with much caution. As if the words themselves could bring on a curse.

"I believe Naraku is keeping him alive."

Miroku felt his right hand pulse at the name, a sharp pain gnawing into his palm. He didn't need to look to know it was only in his head, and not a physical reemergence of his wind tunnel. Any time he heard that name, the paranoia returned.

"Naraku is dead…is he not?" He felt his right hand grow into a fist.

She nodded. "Naraku is no more, but I believe he left one last gift or curse on my brother by allowing him to survive without the shard in his back."

Miroku breathed deeply. "How long have you known of this?"

The response was shy and quiet, almost guilty. "Months."

He felt himself grit his teeth in distress and slight anger. "When did you plan to tell me?"

She shook her head, the hair no longer floating, simply hanging limply. "A week ago, when I came to you…do you remember?"

He felt himself grind his teeth at the memory of her coming to his bedroll in the middle of the night. She had leaned against him and kissed him, but had not said anything before she left to go back to her place in Kaede's hut.

"I do, though you did not say a word at that time, Sango."

"I didn't. I wanted to. I meant to, but when I fell back to sleep that night—and I did very quickly as if I were exhausted—I woke up somewhere far from the village."

"Someone took you?" He allowed his jaw to fall slack.

"Kohaku did, yes. He knew I was going to reveal him."

"Sango, I spoke with you the day after—" but he didn't continue. He was fairly sure he knew what occurred.

"That was not me, but a kitsune, a fox youkai trickster my brother hired."

"Why did I not sense the youkai aura?"

"That…" She stood and brushed off her bottom, he found himself eyeing despite the situation. "That I do not know…where he kept me until last night also had such barriers against youkai aura. There were two new ones brought, and I could not tell what they were."

"Why did you wait so long to tell me?" I felt he could understand her reasoning if she could only tell him.

She looked down at him with her large brown eyes and grasped her hands against her belly. "I-I thought…Miroku when I first saw him, after all that time of thinking him dead…" she trailed off looking at the field of flowers.

"You wished for time with him?"

"Yes. At first." Her gaze floated back to his face and she seemed to study his features. "It wasn't long before I knew something was very wrong with my Kohaku—that he was my brother less and less."

Miroku was about to ask if he was again losing his memories or even worse, his mind, but the woman waved at him when he opened his mouth.

"My brother is no longer a child, Miroku. He is a strong young man…he looks so much like our father." She closed her eyes and allowed a small puff of air to escape her lips. "He is strong, and I do not find it easy to control him anymore. "

"Why would you need to?"

"There are times—which has been coming on more frequently—when it has become necessary to do so." From her tone, it was clear to him that she did not wish to speak of it.

"Can you tell me no more?"

"I would rather not at this time."

"Sango," Miroku peeled his eyes from her to stand himself and look her in the eye. "I have not been faithful."

The touch of her hands against his fingers as she gripped his skin soothed and surprised him. Normally, he'd expect a sound beating, but the woman before him had a slightly lop-sided grin hanging on her cheeks.

"Oh have you?"

"Yes…you may beat me now." He winced as he closed his eyes, preparing for a blow he was actually well deserving of.

He heard a faith laugh, and cracked open his eye to watch the insane woman. "Hmm, well, let's just say you're off the hook this one time, eh?"

He blinked. "Uh…s-sure."

"Miroku? Wake up."

The young monk awoke to the view of his friend above him. Kagome had her hair tucked behind her ears, but it still fell forward into his gaze from her bent posture. He felt his eyes blink at the strong over head lights and he sat up with a slight crack in his back.

"Thank you. How long have I slept?" He rubbed at the back of his neck which seemed sore.

She smiled and patted his hand. "A little less than a half hour. I think you were out as soon as you were in the tube."

He nodded and swung his legs over the side of the hard plastic bed. The young man operating the large machine—which Miroku still didn't fully understand—was looking at him with a grin. He waved him off and helped him to his feet along side Kagome.

"Don't worry too much about it. A lot of people fall asleep."

Again, Miroku found himself nodding with little to say in return. He was still thinking over his dream from his short nap in the medical devise. Still dealing with his lingering feelings over his too realistic meeting with Sango. He wanted to believe everything the dream girl had told him, but he knew he couldn't get such hopes up over an illusion spurred by his desire for a relationship with her.

"Let's go back up to the waiting room."