Chapter 9: In the Dark

Sesshoumaru was by Kagome's side when dawn broke on the twenty-fifth day. He had nursed her with uncertain hands, trying to ease her fever. As much as he resented himself for it, he was worried for her. She was, all other things aside, only a young human girl. He regretted her pain, even if he was not sure if he regretted his actions. He had made an error in his choice; she was perhaps the most powerful he had found, but she was too easy to like.

He was more relieved then he would ever admit when Kagome woke in the morning. She blinked up at him hazily, not at all surprised to see him there. Her coloring was still poor, her breathing weak.

"Good morning,"she said groggily.

"Good morning," he answered evenly. "How do you feel?" He had felt her temperature as she slept. Her fever had actually fallen over the night, though it continued to linger.

"Alright," she mumbled.

He was right, she was a horrible liar.

She closed her eyes between phrases, as if they required a rest. "Are you okay?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "What do you mean?"

Kagome raised her hand, resting the tips of her fevered fingers against the markings on his cheek, earnestly examining his eyes. "You look preoccupied... as if you're worried you might lose something important."

He gently grasped her wrist, guiding it down to lie softly on her coverings. "No," he answered her. "I am disappointed because I may already have lost something important."

She took his hand, trying to reassure him. Something had happened to him that she couldn't place. Undercurrents of anger seeped from him, but she could not tell if his dissatisfaction was directed at her. "I've done my best..." she said quietly. Her voice was weak and sick, and she to keep her words from hurting her chest. "Things will work out."

He squeezed her hand in silent dissent. She was his victim. She had the luxury of single-mindedness; all the decisions were in his hands. Even her life was within his grasp alone. He did not understand her pure faith, but desired to feel some of her peace.

He helped her sit up, patiently helping her down more medicine and forced her to eat something. She still needed her strength for a few more nights before he could be rid of her.

There was something changed between them. There was nothing left to be said. Both had chosen their course and were driven to hold to it. They had only to wait.

And on these last cold days, with Kagome's life lingering by a thread, Sesshoumaru resolved himself.

He would wait out their doom next to her.

The last days of Kagome's captivity passed quietly. Her illness neither worsened nor improved, but seemed to hang over them like the dark clouds that obscured their view of the fading moon.

Sesshoumaru was a puzzle to her. He had diligently tended to her since she had fallen ill, becoming both closer and more distant. Wordlessly he accepted her closeness, treating her gently and considerately. Still, his eyes never seemed acknowledge her, even if he found more opportunity to linger near her. Even if he was quiet, she could recognize the tension in him, silent anger simmering just beneath his blank exterior. Yet whenever she persuaded him to meet her eyes, he seemed to soften slightly. It was in those short moments that he almost seemed... sad.

And so the darkest night crept over them like a nightmare. Kagome's nocturnal calender surrounded them, the charcoal moons bleeding from the cold walls like inky shadows. The yellow light of the lamp could not seem to warm the room, flickering timidly as if it also was afraid of the dark.

The only thing untouched by the dark and the cold was Kagome's will. She could not help herself. Her hope that this darkness might signal an end to it all overcame all else. It could end. No more pain, no more loneliness.

Her hopeful smile, in spite of her weakness, was rescinded by Sesshoumaru's dark scowl. She had risen when he entered, even dared to embrace him quickly before he frowned at her and pressed her gently back to her bed.

"You should have more sense," he admonished, somewhat more harshly than necessary. "I told you to stay in bed."

"I know," she said as cheerily as she was able, "but what does it matter tonight?" She smiled slightly at him, no longer intimidated by his unapproachability. "It will all be over soon. You'll have everything you want, and you can let me go. Right?"

Sesshoumaru let out a slow breath but did not answer her.

Kagome faltered slightly at his inaction. "Sesshoumaru? Are you alright?"

He declined to answer, but held her eyes as he settled her down in the bed. An uncomfortable gnawing was eating away at him from the inside.

Her eyes slowly brushed closed as he sliced into her pale skin one more time. Her breaths were slow and even, though they carried the rasp of her abused body. He watched, transfixed, as a drop of her dark blood beaded on the edge of her cut, glistening like a black pearl. He bowed and tasted her, her illness, her loyalty, her oddity, her purity, her fear, her hope. And the warmth of her power. The essence of everything that made up this strange beautiful creature, spilled for him to taste. He drank as a man setting out into the desert, leaving behind the last oasis.

Her fingers combed through his long shining hair as the girl looked at with those reflective dark eyes. "I'm glad, Sesshoumaru." Her voice was like a wind chime in the dark. "I'm glad, in spite of it all, that I'm here to help you. I'm sorry you were hurt. I've wanted... since I've understood all of this... to heal you."

His breath caught and he almost pulled away. Instead, he brushed his hand over her face, closing her eyelids in a silent order. She frowned, but obeyed.

The fear that had built in him was realized as he finally finished and pulled away from her. It washed over him like a cold wave. He did not know what else to do, he yanked her against him, holding her trapped tightly against him with her face buried in his chest.

His body stiffened, his breath stopped, but still he held to her tightly.

Kagome struggled against him, startled by the quick change in him. A small trickle of blood seeped from the open wound on her arm. "Sesshoumaru? Let me go."

He grunted slightly, but his grip only tightened. She was worried and she couldn't see what was happening. Was the transformation hurting him?

"Sesshoumaru! Please let go!" She tried to pull away again, but even holding her with one hand, her strength was nothing to his. "You're hurting me!" she gasped.

His grip relaxed some, his breathing returning to normal. He moved his hand to hold her head down against him. His behavior was scaring her, and still he wouldn't speak.

"Sesshoumaru... please, let me see," she begged, slightly muffled.

He didn't want to let her see. It would be the end of everything. He couldn't do that to her.

"Please...," she begged.

"Please..."

He rescinded slowly, allowing her slowly to pull away from him. Her brown eyes sparkled as she searched for the source of his torment, flickering over his left side.

She took him in with wide and confused eyes. "I don't understand..."

He looked at her blankly, no comfort to offer her as the beginnings of tears welled in her eyes.

She reached for his right sleeve, hesitantly closing her fingers around the empty silk. As if being controlled by another will, her hand slid up his sleeve, finally meeting the bare end of his arm, ending midway through his upper arm. "I don't understand," she repeated weakly.

She glance up at him, hoping for an answer but finding only his blank stare. "It... it didn't work?" Her bottom lip quivered as the reality of it seeped into her. His silence was the only response she received. "It didn't work..."

She grasped his hand in both of hers, clinging to it desperately. "Maybe... maybe it takes time. Maybe it will be back by morning." Her voice quivered on the edge of anguish as the world seemed to darken.

"Kagome..." he spoke finally, his voice sorrowful. "No."

That one word, and it all crumbled to pieces. She fell into him, sobs shaking her body. Each seemed to rip through her, her pain feeding her sorrow. "I don't understand! I tried! I thought that I could do it... I tried so hard to heal you. What did I do wrong?"

He held her uncomfortably as she cried, knowing the answer but unwilling to tell her.

"I worked so hard. I was so sure I could do it! I'm too weak, I've failed! It was all for nothing."

He wanted to reassure her, but was certain the truth would only bring him more pain. He had feared, for several nights now, this outcome. Deeper, he felt the loss of her light these past few days and already knew that all hope for success had died. Still, he had dared to hope and finish out the month. But the light had not returned to linger again.

Her weakness was not to be blamed, but his own. He had already condemned them both, and the memory of his fault haunted him.

.

.

.

Ignoring the painful twist in his heart, he resolutely lifted her flesh against lips. He let his youki rise, encouraging the need to taste her blood. If this was what it took, so be it. The end was only days away.

He tasted the lingering traces of blood on her skin, losing himself further. He would not be stopped.

Some things, he reflected, simply had to be done.

His fangs closed on her pale skin.

His eyes shut in what could have been defeat or relief, but he was as unreadable as always.



Sharp ivory fangs were pressed tightly against her, yet had not broken the skin.

He willed himself to slash her, but his body did not want to obey.

She was too fragile. Any more of this torture would kill her, strong will or no. That calm feeling her healing left lingering in his blood chased away the demonic bloodlust he had been encouraging.

Still, he had to do this. She had even offered herself to him. If he did not continue, all her suffering, all his efforts, would be in vain. To break the ritual with only a few nights left would be worse in the end. All she had to do was last a few nights longer.

Whatever he did now, he would betray her. In the worst case, there was the distant possibility of resurrection, but it would not bring redemption. If she died, his promise was broken. But she had invested herself in this goal now, and he had seen the determination shining in her eyes. If he surrendered and spared her, all she hoped for would be denied. He would not heal. But his pride would not let his only chance go. If he let her go tonight and the experiment failed, he would force another trial.

She was lost to him.

He had done unforgivable things to her. Her body was dying, her spirit only tenuously clinging to hope. He could see at last the truth. Her destruction was unavoidable. All that remained was which he would break first: her body or her soul.

It would be kinder, he decided, not to doom her to further torture. The rite had to be continued.

Yet still he could not cut her.

Eventually, he removed his fangs from her flesh, looking down at her in apology. He could not make her bleed tonight, no matter the cost. He couldn't kill her, not even to save her from more pain. Not even for himself. In the end, perhaps he was the weaker after all.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to her sleeping face. He softly smoothed her sleeve until it slipped past her hand. His decision was made now, for good or for ill. He clung to her tightly, in shame and in fear for her. Bokusenou had been right. He had imprisoned her, tortured her, and broken her. The porcelain angel in his hold was on the brink of death, and the pain of knowing he was her murderer was worse than any battle wound he had ever experienced.

He reverently replaced her in her bed, watching as she slept on in innocence. She made him feel far to much, and he wanted so badly to hate her for it. Her innocence and strange spirit held an odd power over him. She had enchanted him, to the downfall of them both.

He watched her for a moment, wishing he was seeing her in a different time and place, where perhaps he was not her tormenter and she was not his victim. If he had not been so short sighted, it might have been so.



His choice was made, but still peace and chaos battled in his mind, giving him no relief. He whispered to her and to himself that he had done what was necessary, even as his mind continued to rage.

His heart would not be comforted.

.

.

.

Kagome still cried against him, tormented by the ramifications of her defeat. He could not find the words to speak to her. Feeling lower than he had ever in his life, he pried her from him and left the room.

He fled her, disgusted that he could not find the will to face her. The door closed behind him, locking the broken girl in her dark prison.

He had ended every hope. All that was left was to decide:

What happens now?







It's a short chapter for a two-week absence, I know. Sorry, but that's just the way it worked out.

About Tenseiga: yes, it's still there, and no, he hasn't forgotten about it. For some reason I thought 'Hey, I'll discuss it in the last chapter,' for which I'm sure I had a very good reason, though I can't remember what it was...

Anyway, there are no guarantees that Tenseiga would work, and she would still have to die in order for him to use it, which would break his promise.

I just have to say how much fun I've had reading your reviews-- some of you had some interesting theories on how things would/should turn out. And then there were the few of you that caught on to the ambiguity in the previous chapter. Kudos. It's been driving me crazy, trying to keep my mouth shut about the plot line.

Well, there's only one chapter left, which I am meticulously editing. Also, Raichu will be writing another alternate ending, and I can deny the furry little thing nothing. She's my mouse, after all.

I wish all you Yanks out there a happy Thanksgiving.



Please Review,

Aiwe



This chapter last modified: Tuesday, November 25, 2003