Author's Note: You guys are awesome! I'm so glad that you like my story so much! This chapter will clear up some things about the father, but not much. Laughs Evilly I won't tell anyone. I am the only one who knows, and it'll stay that way until I decide to reveal it. But I hope that you guys like the way this story goes. Don't forget to review! Remember: You stop reviewing; I stop writing. I'm sorry again about this, but it's the only way to get feedback. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't think that I'll ever own InuYasha. Unless… No, it'll never happen.

Wretched

Chapter 3: To Stare and Wonder

It had been a week since that day when she was told.  Sango sat by the fire with her head hung low, her zest for life practically gone. She would sit and think, get wood for the fire, then sit and think again. It wasn't long until the pitiable young woman was left with no thoughts. Her mind was blank as she stared at the fire.

            Kagome was shocked to say the least. InuYasha normally wouldn't have been bothered by the sudden change in mood, except for the fact that it had affected Kagome. He was very perceptive to her feelings, and whenever they changed, his seemed to follow.

            InuYasha was sitting in a tree, restlessly keeping watch over the camp. Because of Sango's state, they hadn't been doing much lately. The hanyou sighed and leaned against the rough trunk. He felt as though he would go out of his mind any day now.

            His ears perked up as he heard noise coming from the bushes. Turning towards the sound, the hanyou saw that it was only Miroku gathering sticks for the fire. InuYasha grunted and turned to lean against the tree again. Miroku had been acting strange lately. The usually eager monk barely talked anymore. Not to mention that the hanyou found it very peculiar that he no longer had the eagerness to grope any of the females in the group, or the ones in the villages. InuYasha grunted with irritation again. How could the perverted monk get a chance to grope a village woman these days? They hadn't been by one in weeks.  

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            Kagome sat by the fire opposite Sango. She gazed at eyes that did not look back, or even move. They stared blankly at the fire, with no spirit in them. The young girl sighed and looked away from the unresponsive face. She looked towards the forest, and saw Miroku coming up the path. He hadn't touched her today, or yesterday for that matter. She found it a bit odd that he had kept to himself the past few days.

            Kagome looked back at Sango, who still gazed indifferently at the fire. The girl shrugged off the monk's strange behavior. It was probably only because he sensed the mood in the air. He couldn't possible know. No, of course not.

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            Miroku had gone looking for sticks for the fire, even though Sango had collected a good pile that now sat by the stone ring. He needed to get away from her. His heart was broken; it was as simple as that. When he had heard the news from the bushes, it was as if someone had grabbed his heart, ripped it out of his chest, and threw it to the ground to stomp on.

            He sighed as he came back to find Kagome joined in the fire staring. He glanced at Sango. What was wrong with her? She had a child, shouldn't this be a joyous time for her? But she was… dead. On the inside and outside she seemed dead.  He wished with a passion that he had showed his feelings for her before… this. Perhaps he could be sitting next to her now, hugging her; telling her what a wonderful person she was for carrying his child, and loving him.

            He sat by the fire with a soft thud. But it was not his child. She was the only one who knew who the father was, and it seemed that she had no intention of telling anyone at the moment.

            He gazed at her. There was no need to glance, for she didn't care if he stared anymore. He observed her beauty for what seemed to be the hundredth time. The monk had always noticed it; from the moment he had seen her for the first time. Her soft, silken skin, her full lips, her soul filled eyes. Those eyes that once held all now held nothing but a vacant stare. Damn it! Didn't she know what this was doing to him? Didn't she know how much she had crushed him? He used to feel pangs of jealousy whenever she had even looked at another man, let alone done anything else with one.

            Miroku quickly got up when he felt the heat of fury burn into his cheeks. He didn't want Kagome to notice his face was flushed. She might start to realize… No, she would never know. No one would ever know.

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InuYasha was half asleep when he faintly heard the sound of Miroku's feet padding down the dirt path of the forest. He drearily opened his eyes and watched the monk walk past the tree he sat atop.

            "Where are you going?" Miroku looked, startled, to see InuYasha sitting the crook of a tree above him.

            "I was…" He stopped, unsure about what to say. "Nowhere," He finally sighed and sat heavily by the tree, laid his staff next to him, and leaned against the inviting trunk.

            InuYasha peered interestedly at the monk. There was defiantly something wrong with him. "What is wrong with you, Miroku?" He called down, a bit impatient.

            "I know," Miroku mumbled.

            InuYasha's eyes widened. He knew? How could he have found out? But why would he care so much?

And then it dawned on the hanyou. It seemed as clear as day now. How could he have missed something so obvious with the way the monk was acting? Not to mention his scent. He reeked of a tormenting sadness that InuYasha had not known before. It was as obvious as the caterpillar the slowly crawled on the branch.

Miroku was in love with Sango; but he wasn't the father of her child.

Extra Author's Note: Hope you liked it! Whatcha waiting for? Go review!