Author's Note: Believe it or not, it's chapter five. Amazing, no? Sorry it took so long, but unless I get randomly and inexplicably inspired, don't expect chapter six anytime soon. ^^;

Chapter Five - Morning Glow

Often in dreams, we see things that don't quite make sense. Other times we see things that make so much sense it's scary, things that help us realize our innermost emotions and feelings. Often, this is our subconscience's way of telling us to wake up, pay attention, think.

And often, this is a truly terrifying experience.

Kagome woke suddenly, thrown out of a dream consisting of faceless terrors with long, spindly fingers that left marks on her skin and lacerations on her mind, and shadows that enveloped her no matter how she cried for light. Opening her eyes to blackness, she thought wildly that she must still be dreaming.

But her dream had been completely black -- as her eyes adjusted she saw that the room she was in now was brown, tinged slightly with pink and a hazy sort of blue. Sitting up straighter, she realized it was from the rising sun -- it was just before dawn.

Then.. A dream? Please.. oh, please, let it have been a dream..

No such luck -- her body was bruised and sore all over. Caught between reality and dreams, she dazedly tried to recall all that had happened and why she was here. Tears started through no volition of hers, and she put a hand to her mouth in startled confusion as she began to cry.

Strong, warm arms encircled her shoulders and held her close, and she thought at first that it must be Inuyasha. But the colors were wrong -- instead of red there was purple, and the soothing voice that spoke her name, though familiar, wasn't his.

"Miroku.. Sama?" Still dazed and confused, she almost forgot to attatch the honorific to his name; despite their friendship, she always tried to keep that much space between them.

"Good morning, Kagome." He didn't bother to give her the same title -- therein lay pretense and lies, and they both knew it. "Although, it is a bit early to call it that.. the sun is just rising." He gestured to the rosy sunlight slipping through the door with his free hand, exactly as if they were making idle conversation and she wasn't crying helplessly in his arms.

Did he know? He must, or he wouldn't be holding her as he was.. Her cheeks burned at the thought that he knew, they all knew.. Inuyasha knew. And yet, some logical part of her reasoned, is that so bad? There was no hiding it.. and still, nothing really had happened.. she'd been attacked, yes, but honestly.. that happened almost every day, in this time. Usually not this way, but..

As much as her mind tried to reason out the situation, her shame would not go away. She cried harder and, unable to control herself, clutched the folds of Miroku's robe in silent desperation. Her friend said nothing and simply held her; he'd been waiting for this, he knew about trauma. God, to be young and helpless, he remembered what that felt like..

As Kagome cried in his arms, Miroku let his eyes slide closed. He held her close, one arm wrapped around her shoulders, one hand resting comfortingly on the back of her head. He said nothing aloud, and indeed moved not at all, but his mind was ever-busy, doing agitated circles in his head.

Kagome had always been their light, it seemed -- All of them, Inuyasha, Sango, himself, and even Shippo -- they'd all lost someone, they'd all been alone and helpless at one time or another. Kagome had been the only one untouched by sorrow and anger and fear.. she had been the only one of them untainted.

He had hoped it would always remain so, but.. everyone had to grow up sometime. Some people fought it, like Inuyasha; others embraced it, like Sango, and some were simply able to move on, like himself and Shippo. And ever since he'd dreamt of her that night, of the Shikon shard around her neck consumed by a hazy grey taint, he'd known that it was her time to grow up.

It was why he'd wanted to be the one there when she woke up. He didn't know what exactly had happened -- Inuyasha had been livid when he'd returned carrying her, covered in blood and dust with confusion and pain shining bright in his slit amber eyes, and had been unable to say anything except a snarled command to 'take care of Kagome'. So they had, and while Kaede bandaged and soothed the wounds that adorned her small body, Sango had hidden her face in her hands and cried.

As they stood there watching, Miroku had offered what little comfort he could to the girl who was usually so strong, yet who was suddenly weeping silently into his shoulder. With one arm, he unthinkingly held her close, and for once, neither was alone in their pain. They shared this grief, for the innocence that had been shattered, the knowledge that this pain was inevitable, and for what they'd both seen in their friend as he arrived.

Kagome was strong-willed and smart, and it was likely that she would be almost unscathed by the encounter. But Inuyasha.. Inuyasha was volatile and violent, the kind of person that had lived through but not responded well to such a trauma. Though he believed himself to be adult, worldly and mature, there was still that one stubborn spark that had made him always able to bounce back; the almost childish charisma and energy that had enabled him to keep fighting.

Smoothing Kagome's hair as her tears gradually subsided, the young Priest felt truly sad as he remembered Inuyasha's face. He'd looked so tired, as he'd carried Kagome to Kaede's house, so wary, like one who had seen much and accomplished more, and yet was just beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, it was all for absolutely nothing.

*

Although definately no stranger to greif or rage, Inuyasha had to admit that he'd never felt anything quite like this in his life. Though they'd been fighting, things weren't so bad.. He knew he'd have to go get her, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he'd known she'd forgive him. They'd always fought, and they'd always made up.

But it had never occured to him.. that there were things in her world..

...

He didn't know how to finish that thought, even in his own mind. Things he'd have to protect her from? A fine job he'd done of it, this time. This time, he'd been too late.

And now..

Would she recover? Would this change her -- as it had changed him?

He tilted his head to watch the morning haze as it faded into a blindingly blue sky. Ironically, it was going to be a beautiful day.

As a child, he'd been so happy. Yes, the village kids picked on him sometimes, made fun of his eyes and ears and claws -- it had taken time, but he'd eventually learned to ignore the jeers, responding only if the abuse became physical.. and in that event, he always won. He developed something of a reputation, and then they were too afraid of him to tease and jeer.. and this had made him happy. It was his first taste of power, in a way, and he'd loved it as much then as he did now.

She'd warned him about it, of course -- Lightly, teasingly, as one long slender hand caressed his hair -- "If you don't watch yourself, my darling, you'll grow up to be a bully.." Then she'd look into his eyes and smile and laugh..

His mother.. for the first time in years, he deliberately called her face to his memory. Violet eyes and long dark hair, so instinctively graceful and noble and beautiful -- seeing such beauty defiled had been a terrible shock. Violet eyes glazed over and unseeing, pale skin laced with blood and bruises and long strands of dark hair laying tangled and silent and still..

No, he hadn't been there when it happened. To this day, he didn't know what had happened.. just that he'd sat next to her and cried, truly believeing that if he called her name enough times those beautiful violet eyes would slide open, and she'd smile just for him. After he realized she'd never smile again, he'd run away silently and swiftly into the night. Even as he ran, even as he cried, he was saying silently goodbye to candies and kisses, to warm beds and beautiful songs, to stories told of powerful demons and lovely maidens..

They had been so similar, his mother and.. and Kikyo. So similar that the shock was the same when he'd seen her last, covered in blood from Naraku's claws, with hate and anger and betrayal shining sharp in her eyes..

And again, last night, he'd seen it in Kagome. The blood contrasting with her skin, her hair wild and tangled and her screaming like a blade against raw nerves.. He wondered if her voice would ever sound the same to him again.

"Inuyasha..?"

*

She saw him start, lifting his head swiftly from where it had rested between his hands. His hair shifted fractionally, as if he'd almost turned to look at her and restrained himself. Oh no, no.. He's going to treat me differently, he's.. he's not going to look at me..

"Inuyasha.." She faltered, forced a smile, stood there uncertainly. He abruptly stood and faced her, simply waiting expectantly.

He looks so tired.. so sad.. "Inuyasha--" She looked away and chuckled nervously as she realized she'd said his name three times already and hadn't actually said anything at all of importance. She knew it was obvious that she'd been crying, but Miroku's advice echoed in her mind, and so she forced herself to say what she had to. "I wanted to.. to.." She trailed off as he moved, closing the gap between them in two swift strides, coming close enough for her to feel the warmth of his body. The slight breeze was cut off abruptly as he stood in front of her, amber eyes large and luminous in the glow of the rising sun.. and even as she noticed how strong and powerful he seemed as he stood there, she couldn't help but see also how profoundly unhappy he was.. the shadows that were always present when he looked at her seemed twice as big and three times as black. Her lower lip trembled slightly and she looked down to hide it, forcing herself to continue. "..To thank you.."

"Shut up." His voice was soft enough to take any sting out of the command, yet strong enough to ensure that that was indeed exaclty how it had been meant. As she looked up in suprise, he meet her gaze without hesitation. For a moment she felt a flash of familiar irritation, but she found that having his direct attention warmed her, even if he was telling her to shut up.

She had to smile, faintly, at that. "I just mean.. if you hadn't--"

"I know." He interrupted her again, more quickly and harsher than necessary, but she just couldn't get mad at him for it.. not when he spoke to her alone, with no one around to hear them and comment and judge.. For just this moment they were alone in the world, and the rising sun poured its warmth over the land, bathing them in a golden spotlight that chased the shadows away.

They stood there for an eternity, it seemed, the wind tossing hues of black and white away from very different faces -- from different worlds, different times, different places -- she was beautiful and he was handsome, and they both realized it at the same time.

Her eyes weren't as dark as Kikyo's had been -- they were a pure, clear blue, mixed sometimes with green. Her face was younger, and amazingly, innocence still shone like a child's laughter when she smiled. Her hair was wavier, fuller, more alive as it tossed back and forth behind her shoulders.

His features were more human than anything else -- the beautiful amber eyes made the difference, and the soft, sensitive ears almost lost amid all the white hair that played with the wind as would a kitten with a string.

She offers her hand; she offers her heart.

He takes it.