Shock! Something from me, when it's been what, almost 6 months? And I'm sorry for that, for any of you waiting for the next chapter of Sight Unseen. It is in my beta's mailbox. I've been busy, and it's been hard for me to sit down and write until about the last month or so. But this little tidbit wouldn't stop bugging me until it was written, so I went ahead and got it out after I finished chapter 31.
Phantom Fear
Blood.
He could smell it, knew it was close by before he even opened his eyes. The scent was strong, and familiar, so much so that it seemed almost natural for him to catch it with his sensitive nose. So much so that he knew he would recognize it anywhere, and in any time.
He blinked, not quite sure why his eyes had been closed in the first place.
He was surprised by the lack of bright light and raised his head to better see his surroundings.
He was lying on the ground, flat on his stomach. His arms and legs felt heavy, sluggish, as if he'd been drugged with some sort of sleeping potion. His sight was slightly blurry, fuzzy around the edges, as if he had, indeed, been unconscious.
Blinking a few more times, he managed to bring the scenery around him into focus.
Where was he? He lay on a rather flat, grassy plain, that was bordered on one side by forest, and the other by more flat land. There was nothing unusual around him, yet, for some reason, he could feel something was not quite right.
He wrinkled his nose as the blood scent was brought to his attention once more. Where was it coming from?
He pushed himself up, though it was slow going, and he felt as if his body was weighed down by heavy boulders tied to his arms and legs.
Finally, he was sitting, having flipped himself over so that his legs were sprawled out in front of him and he was leaning back on his arms.
Now that he was upright, he could see the trail.
It started as spatters on his clothing, darker stains against the bright red. Then it followed along beside his leg, but the patches were fairly small. It continued on, larger and larger spots appearing as it wound away from him and behind a large tree that stood apart from the others.
What had happened? Was he wounded?
Puzzled, he ran his hands over his chest while visually looking down his legs, searching for any signs of injury.
Nothing.
Except the new smears on his robes. And the dark red stickiness on his hands that left no question as to where the marks had come from.
Now he was really confused. He wasn't hurt, yet a trail of blood made it's way from him, off around that tree. That meant it couldn't be his own blood, right?
Whose was it, then?
He took a deliberate sniff of his hand, hoping he would be able to identify the owner.
Again, the scent was very familiar. He felt as if the name should just jump right to the front of his mind, but it wasn't, as if there was something blocking his memory.
Something about the situation was entirely wrong. He needed to wash himself off, though he knew it wouldn't totally erase the smell for a while. But he needed first to find out what was at the end of the blood trail.
Decisively, he pushed to his feet and began following the steadily larger splotches.
As he drew nearer and nearer to the tree, his uneasiness grew. Whatever was beyond the large trunk, he wasn't going to like it. He knew that with great certainty.
He was breathing heavily, his heart beating fast, as he stopped beside the tree. He swallowed several times, wondering if he really should go on.
He had to. He had to find out what had happened. What, or worse yet, _who_, lay beyond his line of sight.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing pulse.
He was ready to find out. Whatever it was, he had to face it.
Opening his eyes, he took a single step forward. And another. He kept his gaze on the ground, following the trail of blood as it led him around the wide tree.
He was taking in great gulps of air just before his gaze found a few shreds of white scattered among strands of black, and his breath caught in his lungs.
All he could see was the black hair, splayed out over the grass.
Kikyou!
Had someone else... or... had _he_ finally... ? Kaede had told him to do it right when the dead miko had been resurrected, but he hadn't been able to then. Had something finally forced him to... ?
Rushing to her side, he reached out to roll her over, hoping she was still alive, or as alive as the undead could be. If he'd done it, if he'd killed her again--
But it wasn't Kikyou.
Kikyou didn't wear black shoes that fully covered her feet.
Nor did she wear a green skirt.
His gaze continued higher, over a familiar white collared shirt with a red tie, shredded almost to unrecognition.
It wasn't Kikyou.
It was-
"KAGOME!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Inuyasha sat straight up against the tree trunk he'd been leaning against to keep watch, heart pounding.
He was breathing so hard his chest and throat were hurting, though the pain barely registered as his eyes frantically searched the ground for Kagome.
He found her several feet away, sitting up in her sleeping bag and staring at him, wide-eyed with surprise, confusion slowly creeping it's way across her face.
"Inuya - sha?" she croaked out in shock, voice still hoarse from sleep, as he suddenly leapt from his spot and flew towards her.
He knocked her backwards in his haste to make sure she was all right, that none of the wounds he'd seen in his dream had been real.
He checked her head, her neck, her arms, her chest, and was about to yank the sleeping bag out of his way when she gasped and tried to shove his hands away.
"Inuyasha! What are you doing?!"
He stilled and looked up, blinking in surprise at the unexpected outburst.
Her face was flushed in embarrassment, and she was glaring at him, giving him the look she usually had when she was angry enough to 'sit' him.
"Kagome..." he whispered, his throat tight as he finally released the breath he'd been holding. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get a word out, he'd yanked her up into his arms. "You're all right."
Kagome didn't move for several seconds, wondering what had caused Inuyasha to act so strangely. She relaxed bit by bit, reaching up to put her own arms around him and somewhat awkwardly pat his back. "Inuyasha? What--"
"Inuyasha? What was with the yelling? You woke us all up, apparently for nothing! All you wanted was to hug Kagome!" Shippo grumbled, overriding Kagome's quiet question.
The hanyou jumped and sprang back from Kagome, as if suddenly realizing the others were still there. He scrambled to his feet and turned away, trying to hide his pinkening cheeks.
"Inuyasha, is there something wrong?" Sango asked quietly.
"No," he growled, trying his hardest not to keep glancing at Kagome, to reassure himself that she was perfectly fine.
"Inuyasha--" Kagome began again, only to be interrupted by Miroku.
"So, you did only want to hug Kagome, then, Inuyasha?"
Inuyasha's fists clenched at his sides. "No!"
"Did you have a nightmare?" Shippo asked, not noticing how Inuyasha flinched at the word. "I bet that was it, wasn't it? We all heard you yell, 'Kagome!' really loud. You had a nightmare, and were scared, and you needed somebody to hold you like your mommy did, so you-- Eeeeeeeep!"
Shippo had less than a second's head start before Inuyasha tore after him off into the trees.
"Kagomeeeeeee! Stooop him!" the kitsune's wail was carried by the slight breeze back to those left in the small clearing where they'd made camp for the night.
Kagome flopped back down in her sleeping bag, sighing and covering her eyes with her arm. Just what she needed. A chase in the middle of the night, just after Inuyasha had scared her half to death with his yelling, and nearly groped her as he checked her for who knows what.
What had all that been about? She'd have to remember to ask him whenever he came back. Preferably without the others around, so he'd be more likely to talk. That situation in itself was going to be difficult to manage.
Kagome turned over on her side, sighing once again as she listened to Shippo's distant cries for help, followed occasionally by growls from Inuyasha. Getting Inuyasha alone was going to be about as difficult as falling back to sleep.
Phantom Fear
Blood.
He could smell it, knew it was close by before he even opened his eyes. The scent was strong, and familiar, so much so that it seemed almost natural for him to catch it with his sensitive nose. So much so that he knew he would recognize it anywhere, and in any time.
He blinked, not quite sure why his eyes had been closed in the first place.
He was surprised by the lack of bright light and raised his head to better see his surroundings.
He was lying on the ground, flat on his stomach. His arms and legs felt heavy, sluggish, as if he'd been drugged with some sort of sleeping potion. His sight was slightly blurry, fuzzy around the edges, as if he had, indeed, been unconscious.
Blinking a few more times, he managed to bring the scenery around him into focus.
Where was he? He lay on a rather flat, grassy plain, that was bordered on one side by forest, and the other by more flat land. There was nothing unusual around him, yet, for some reason, he could feel something was not quite right.
He wrinkled his nose as the blood scent was brought to his attention once more. Where was it coming from?
He pushed himself up, though it was slow going, and he felt as if his body was weighed down by heavy boulders tied to his arms and legs.
Finally, he was sitting, having flipped himself over so that his legs were sprawled out in front of him and he was leaning back on his arms.
Now that he was upright, he could see the trail.
It started as spatters on his clothing, darker stains against the bright red. Then it followed along beside his leg, but the patches were fairly small. It continued on, larger and larger spots appearing as it wound away from him and behind a large tree that stood apart from the others.
What had happened? Was he wounded?
Puzzled, he ran his hands over his chest while visually looking down his legs, searching for any signs of injury.
Nothing.
Except the new smears on his robes. And the dark red stickiness on his hands that left no question as to where the marks had come from.
Now he was really confused. He wasn't hurt, yet a trail of blood made it's way from him, off around that tree. That meant it couldn't be his own blood, right?
Whose was it, then?
He took a deliberate sniff of his hand, hoping he would be able to identify the owner.
Again, the scent was very familiar. He felt as if the name should just jump right to the front of his mind, but it wasn't, as if there was something blocking his memory.
Something about the situation was entirely wrong. He needed to wash himself off, though he knew it wouldn't totally erase the smell for a while. But he needed first to find out what was at the end of the blood trail.
Decisively, he pushed to his feet and began following the steadily larger splotches.
As he drew nearer and nearer to the tree, his uneasiness grew. Whatever was beyond the large trunk, he wasn't going to like it. He knew that with great certainty.
He was breathing heavily, his heart beating fast, as he stopped beside the tree. He swallowed several times, wondering if he really should go on.
He had to. He had to find out what had happened. What, or worse yet, _who_, lay beyond his line of sight.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing pulse.
He was ready to find out. Whatever it was, he had to face it.
Opening his eyes, he took a single step forward. And another. He kept his gaze on the ground, following the trail of blood as it led him around the wide tree.
He was taking in great gulps of air just before his gaze found a few shreds of white scattered among strands of black, and his breath caught in his lungs.
All he could see was the black hair, splayed out over the grass.
Kikyou!
Had someone else... or... had _he_ finally... ? Kaede had told him to do it right when the dead miko had been resurrected, but he hadn't been able to then. Had something finally forced him to... ?
Rushing to her side, he reached out to roll her over, hoping she was still alive, or as alive as the undead could be. If he'd done it, if he'd killed her again--
But it wasn't Kikyou.
Kikyou didn't wear black shoes that fully covered her feet.
Nor did she wear a green skirt.
His gaze continued higher, over a familiar white collared shirt with a red tie, shredded almost to unrecognition.
It wasn't Kikyou.
It was-
"KAGOME!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Inuyasha sat straight up against the tree trunk he'd been leaning against to keep watch, heart pounding.
He was breathing so hard his chest and throat were hurting, though the pain barely registered as his eyes frantically searched the ground for Kagome.
He found her several feet away, sitting up in her sleeping bag and staring at him, wide-eyed with surprise, confusion slowly creeping it's way across her face.
"Inuya - sha?" she croaked out in shock, voice still hoarse from sleep, as he suddenly leapt from his spot and flew towards her.
He knocked her backwards in his haste to make sure she was all right, that none of the wounds he'd seen in his dream had been real.
He checked her head, her neck, her arms, her chest, and was about to yank the sleeping bag out of his way when she gasped and tried to shove his hands away.
"Inuyasha! What are you doing?!"
He stilled and looked up, blinking in surprise at the unexpected outburst.
Her face was flushed in embarrassment, and she was glaring at him, giving him the look she usually had when she was angry enough to 'sit' him.
"Kagome..." he whispered, his throat tight as he finally released the breath he'd been holding. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get a word out, he'd yanked her up into his arms. "You're all right."
Kagome didn't move for several seconds, wondering what had caused Inuyasha to act so strangely. She relaxed bit by bit, reaching up to put her own arms around him and somewhat awkwardly pat his back. "Inuyasha? What--"
"Inuyasha? What was with the yelling? You woke us all up, apparently for nothing! All you wanted was to hug Kagome!" Shippo grumbled, overriding Kagome's quiet question.
The hanyou jumped and sprang back from Kagome, as if suddenly realizing the others were still there. He scrambled to his feet and turned away, trying to hide his pinkening cheeks.
"Inuyasha, is there something wrong?" Sango asked quietly.
"No," he growled, trying his hardest not to keep glancing at Kagome, to reassure himself that she was perfectly fine.
"Inuyasha--" Kagome began again, only to be interrupted by Miroku.
"So, you did only want to hug Kagome, then, Inuyasha?"
Inuyasha's fists clenched at his sides. "No!"
"Did you have a nightmare?" Shippo asked, not noticing how Inuyasha flinched at the word. "I bet that was it, wasn't it? We all heard you yell, 'Kagome!' really loud. You had a nightmare, and were scared, and you needed somebody to hold you like your mommy did, so you-- Eeeeeeeep!"
Shippo had less than a second's head start before Inuyasha tore after him off into the trees.
"Kagomeeeeeee! Stooop him!" the kitsune's wail was carried by the slight breeze back to those left in the small clearing where they'd made camp for the night.
Kagome flopped back down in her sleeping bag, sighing and covering her eyes with her arm. Just what she needed. A chase in the middle of the night, just after Inuyasha had scared her half to death with his yelling, and nearly groped her as he checked her for who knows what.
What had all that been about? She'd have to remember to ask him whenever he came back. Preferably without the others around, so he'd be more likely to talk. That situation in itself was going to be difficult to manage.
Kagome turned over on her side, sighing once again as she listened to Shippo's distant cries for help, followed occasionally by growls from Inuyasha. Getting Inuyasha alone was going to be about as difficult as falling back to sleep.