Trigger Warning for panic attack/mentions of suicide

"Naraku."

There's a sort of laziness in the way he regards her. Like she's an afterthought. Like he didn't just murder her father in cold blood. Leisurely, he arises from his chair, sauntering over to her with a slow purpose.

He steals her breath as his fingers reach out, grasping a hold of a stray strand of hair. It rolls between the pads of his fingers. She dimly realizes that her hair is now stained with the blood of her father.

Tears well up in her eyes as she swallows the urge to scream. She blinks them away, refusing to let them fall in front of him.

"You were always so beautiful," he says as he clicks his tongue with false remorse. "It's a shame your father had to get in the way. I had plans for you, dear."

"Sango?"

The sound of his voice breathes life back into her body. She wants to collapse from the sheer weight of it all. Instead, she musters up her courage to turn and yell, "Kohaku, run!"

Except it's not Kohaku. It's Miroku standing there in the entryway. His dark eyes are wide as he takes in the scene in front of him. There's a sense of urgency swirling within their depths, reminiscent of the thunderous clouds raging outside. "Sango!"

Her heart constricts in her chest. It feels unbearably tight within the constraints of her ribs. It makes it impossible to breathe. She has faced fear before. Looked it in the eye and confronted it head on. Now, it consumes her very being, eating away at all rationality.

Not him.

Please don't take away the man she loves.

Laughter booms throughout the cockpit.

"No!" She pushes her legs as hard as she can toward Miroku. She braces against his arms, awaiting the inevitable. She anticipates the pain seconds before it arrives. It sparks between her shoulder blades, spreading like lightning through her muscles. The cry that leaves her lips is unrecognizable to her own ears. Pain. So much pain. It blinds her, a white heat.

"Sango!" There's an insistence in his voice that rattles her. "Sango, please…"

She doesn't understand. His voice comes in and out of focus. Hazy around the edges. Like she's losing consciousness. "I…I saved you." She shakes her head as her legs give out. He captures her in his arms, holding her upright. "I saved you."

"Sango, please."

"Please what?"

"Sango," he repeats with pleading force. His fingers dig into the skin of her shoulders. "Please open your eyes."

The sensation of being submerged in ice-cold water washes over her. She inhales deeply, but no air rushes in. Her lungs burn with exertion. She bolts upright, clawing at her chest. At the arms around her. Tears are hot on her cheek, a stark contrast to the coolness of her skin. Eyes wildly roam around. It's bright. It's dark. The edges of her vision are fuzzy. It's as if a thousand needles are pressing into her fingers over and over and over again.

She can't breathe.

"Sango, breathe."

Her head shakes back and forth, bringing a surge of dizziness with it. She pushes him with as much strength as she can muster. A sob topples from her lips, drowned out by her ragged breathing. She can't get enough oxygen in. Her lungs are filled with a raw fire that burns her entire chest. Her heart thrashes against her rib cage, wanting to break free from its prison. "I…I can't…!" Her lungs won't cooperate. She can't control her breathing. She can't control her cries. She can't control her body. She can't control anything.

"I need you to breathe, Sango, or else you're going to pass out."

"I…can't…breathe!"

"Five things. Name five things you see or feel."

Another sob forces its way out of her body, leaving her trembling in its wake like aftershocks of an earthquake. "H…hands."

"Good," he praises in a soothing tone. "You feel my hands?"

She nods as another wave crashes into her. His fingers are strong against her skin as he keeps her afloat. Warm. Gentle. His thumb traces circles on her shoulders. It's comforting.

"Your…your hair." His thumb pauses for a heartbeat, hovering over her skin. She swallows, gulping down a breath of air. "It's…it's down."

Miroku smiles lightly, but she can see how tight the blues of his eyes are. They look like the moonless sky in this light. His hair is unkempt, sticking up in one spot. She wonders if he sleeps on his right side more than his left.

Her throat is scratchy and raw. Her lungs still ache, but the fire is smothered as air freely enters through her mouth. Her cheeks feel hot and blotchy. Slick with tears. "Your eyes…they're a darker blue." She watches them widen a little bit at her statement. "I…I…are you shirtless?" Her ears flame at the realization.

He rubs his hands from her shoulders down to her elbows and up again. "Ran straight from my bed to you. Don't worry, I did stop to put on pants, in case you didn't notice that yet." He winks at her. "You've got one more thing to name."

She scrubs her face with the back of her hand. Her breath comes out in shudders still, but at least she can breathe. Her chest doesn't ache as badly. Her heart seems to have lost its willpower to escape. Her fingers flex at her side, and the sudden urge to reach out to Miroku enters her mind. She hesitates, only briefly, before the tips of her fingers brush against his chest. He stills beneath her touch. She isn't sure if it's her breath that hitches or his.

She wants to say that she notices his lips. How they part in surprise at her touch. How she wants to kiss them. How she wants him to kiss her.

But she doesn't. Instead, she says, "Thank you." She collapses against him, digging her head into the crook of his neck. She wraps her arms around him. The overwhelming need to cry hits again, and she lets it take over.

"Oh, Sango," he sighs, pulling her tightly against his body. He murmurs something against her head, but she can't make it out clearly. His lips tickle her hair. The only sound that fills her ears are her soft cries against his bare skin.

"I'm sorry," she wails. "I'm so sorry."

He holds her in an embrace until she calms. His fingers trail along her spine, a soft electricity sending current right to her beating heart. "I hope you know that you have nothing to apologize for. I used to have night terrors all the time."

"Really?" she mumbles against his neck. His muscles flex beneath her as he nods his head against hers.

"When my dad died," he says in a somber voice, "I had them for months. The dreams changed slightly, but it was the same at its core. My dad dying in front of me, and how I was powerless to stop it." He stops to inhale, slow and deliberate. "I saw him kill himself. I don't know if I've told you that before."

Sango pulls back to look up at him, lower lip trembling. Fat tears fill her eyes because she can't even imagine the pain of watching a loved one die before your very eyes.

Well, then again, maybe she can.

Her voice is gravely as she says, "I think you mentioned it once before. Briefly." Her hands clench against his chest. "I'm so…so sorry you went through that."

"I walked in on him pointing a gun to his head," he says in a far-off tone. "I had ice-cream in my hand. Vanilla with the hard chocolate outside. I was bringing him one, too. I had opened the door and I remember screaming his name as the gun went off. He had no idea I was there, of course…I was supposed to be with my uncle. We got back early from our trip to the store. I haven't had that type of ice-cream since."

Her tongue is thick in her mouth as she chews on the right words to say. She knows there are none. Nothing she can say will make what he saw less horrific. Nothing can bring his father back into being. Nothing will make it right.

So, instead she asks, "Did they stop? The night terrors?"

He glances down at her, eyes thoughtful. "I don't know if they'll ever stop," he ventures carefully, "but they have become less frequent over the years. It always gets worse around the anniversary of his death."

Sango considers this for a moment. She teeters back and forth on just how open she should be with him. Her eyes sting, and she hates just how much she's cried in front of him. The crook of his neck sports tear stains from her earlier episode. "It's…it's the same for me."

He watches her with a patient expression, much like someone who is trying to coax a scared child into their arms. His fingers move on their own accord, wiping a tear that escapes from her eyes. He promptly goes to work at rubbing away the rest that quickly replace the first. "Hey," he murmurs, "You don't have to talk about it. You've had a long night."

"I know," she says, voice rising in pitch, "I know I don't, but you just opened up to me and it's not fair. None of this is fair."

"I've learned a long time ago that life isn't fair, Sango. But, sometimes, life comes along and does bring you some good. Afterall, it brought me to you, didn't it?"

She chokes on a sob at his words and his smile falters.

"Please don't cry again. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you upset. I don't think my hands can keep up at this rate."

His fingers etch heat into her skin as he cradles her head in the palms of his hands. "It's not you," she says, grasping onto his wrists like he's her lifeline. "Once I start crying, it's hard to stop. Miroku…I…I saw…. Me too. It's hard. It's so hard. I think I'm fine, and then I'm waking up in a panic with my roommate taking care of me. I…I can't believe I woke you up with this. I am so embarrassed."

"I'm sure you'll repay the favor someday," he says with a tender smile. "Next time, you'll have to crawl into my bed to cheer me up, huh?"

She flushes at his comment but chooses to ignore it. "What time is it, anyway?" Her eyes feel swollen and tired.

He replies, "Almost four."

"It's only been about 3 hours since we've gone to bed, huh?" She relinquishes her grip on his wrists to push her bangs away from her forehead. "I'm really sorry for keeping you up."

"Sango…," he starts, hands dropping to rest on her hips. The heat from his hands expand from her hips to her stomach. "I was so worried when I heard you screaming in your sleep. I don't think you understand just how afraid I was."

"Miroku…."

"So, this is nothing," he continues, eyes locked on hers. "Your happiness is a top priority for me. Seeing you like this…I can't help but want to be here for you. Please stop apologizing. If you ever need me, I will always come running to help."

She averts her gaze, heat running from her cheeks down her chest. "Please don't say things like that when you have your shirt off and you're in my bed," she murmurs in a timorous voice, "people might get the wrong idea."

"Oh?" His tone is mischievous. Flirty. "Who said I was giving you the wrong idea?"

She tries to push against his chest, but it's too light. Her hands just end up hovering over his bare skin. "Ha, ha, ha."

He clears his throat. "You should, uh, get some rest."

"Wait, please don't go," she pleads in a sudden panic as he makes to leave. "I don't…I can't be alone right now. Please stay, just a little longer."

His Adam's apple bobs. "Sango."

"Please."

His fingers twitch against her hip. He takes his bottom lip into his mouth, and the overwhelming desire to kiss him runs through her again. Maybe this wasn't a good idea, to want him to stay. He hesitates, as if they share the same thought, but he says, "For a little longer." Is she imagining how strained his voice sounds?

Perhaps she's delirious with sleep and desire.

Sango falls onto her back dramatically, head hitting her pillow. She glances up at him. He slowly, painfully so, lays down next to her. Their elbows bump together. So much for just wanting to stay friends, she thinks wistfully. She has no self-control. It crumbled the moment she saw those blue eyes of his light up at the sight of her at the airport. She should tell him to leave. Reset those boundaries, but at the same time she desperately doesn't want to be alone.

So, she asks, "Did you dream of anything before…before I woke you up?" She winces, drawing her lip between her teeth.

"I dreamt I was lying in a beautiful woman's bed." He looks over, a grin erupting on his face. "Oh wait, that's happening now."

"Miroku."

He shifts on the bed so he can face her. "In all seriousness, I didn't have any dreams."

"No?"

A humorless laugh falls from his lips. "Can't have any dreams if you aren't sleeping."

She translates his words in her mind: You can't have any nightmares if you're awake.

Her finger pokes at his chest. "Any reason you couldn't sleep?" A deep flush seeps into her cheeks. "I hope it wasn't because of me."

"If you mean because of the nightmare, then no."

She frowns. "You didn't say no for the rest of it, though."

His eyes find a spot above her head to stare at. His hand entwines with hers. She feels the hesitation in his grasp. "Sango, I was really worried this past week when I didn't hear from you. I know we talked about it earlier. I know you said it was personal, but I just couldn't stop thinking about how I might have upset you. I know I tease you. I know I piss you off all the time, but I care about you and our friendship, and I don't want to jeopardize that."

Heat pulses through her fingertips. She stares at their intertwined hands. Friendship. Handholding. Laying in the same bed. She wants to laugh at the absurdness of it all. She wants to just close her eyes and bask in the warmth that is his body. Dream of what could be instead of living the nightmare that is this muddled mess of feelings.

"Sango?"

Oh, shit.

Her gaze snaps back up to meet his. She sucks air in through her teeth at the hurt in his eyes. "Miroku." She squeezes his hand. Once. He squeezes back. She wishes she could convey just how sorry she is. "I didn't want to ignore you all week…I just…it's personal." She pinches her eyes shut. Even she hears how dumb she sounds. "I'm not upset with you," she clarifies. "I don't think I could ever be upset with you. At least, not for long."

"Okay." His voice is a whisper near her ear. She represses a shiver. "I believe you."

"You were in my dream," she blurts before she can stop herself. She keeps her eyes closed, not daring to glance at the look upon his face at her declaration. "Well…, I guess nightmare."

His thumb dances upon hers. Miroku, for being a man of many words, is surprisingly silent.

She continues in a whisper, "I thought you were going to die…," she trails off, not adding the words, Like my father did.

"I'm not going anywhere, my dearest Sango."

His words give her some semblance of courage. She scoots closer to him and nestles her head against his neck, giving his hand another squeeze. A silent message. I'm not going anywhere either.

"We should probably go to sleep."

She hums in agreement. His hand twitches in hers, like he wants to move, but doesn't take any steps toward getting out of bed. Something presses against the side of her head, but she's too tired to open her eyes to see what it is.

She falls asleep wondering if it's his lips, tasting the disappointment on her tongue when she dreams of nothing, when all she wants is him.

So, this was supposed to be a cute comfort chapter and it turned into major angst? I also was just going to have her fall asleep cuddling him after he comforts her, but these two are stubborn and had other plans. I wanted to end it with a later scene, but this was already getting way long, so it'll be saved for a future chapter. I hope you all enjoy! Let me know what you think!