Hello! I'm back with Part Two of the hellbent-story. Please enjoy, and again, the keywords are No Flames.

Disclaimer: If I owned Inuyasha, it wouldn't be called FANfiction, now would it? Now go away and sue some poor old lady, you damn lawyers.

PART TWO: RENEWAL

"You are my true and honorable wife."

- William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar

"A woman can forgive a man for the harm he does her...but she can never forgive him for the sacrifices he makes on her account."

-W. Somerset Maugham

---

A little over a month later, Sango walked into the home she shared with Kaede, Inuyasha, and Shippo. Kirara was lying on her shoulder, snoozing in the cool morning air. She and the neko had been for another ride, as they did almost every day first thing in the morning. Inuyasha looked up to see her come in and offered her a hand. Swatting at him good-naturedly, she shook her head.

"I'm not that fat yet, Inuyasha."

Her stomach was, however, starting to show tangible signs of progress, and she had long ago given up wearing an apron over her yukata. Kagome called her a little paranoid, but left it be when Sango explained she didn't want the constricting clothing over her tummy for fear of the babe's health.

Kaede had agreed with Kagome, but informed them that if it made the taiji-ya feel better, that was the important part.

Over the time she had been there, she had been slowly trying to wean herself off Miroku. For almost a full two weeks after her arrival, she had started sentences meant for him. 'Miroku, pass me the rice,' or 'Miroku, can you go get some fish for supper.' But every time, she had stopped herself after a few words, reminding herself that Miroku wasn't there.

It was difficult, and she lost a lot of sleep, only to dream of what had happened when she did. The worst part was bumping into him.

It had happened first about a week ago, when they had both reached for a bolt of cloth at the same time. She had felt his hand cover hers, and it froze her to the bone, yet warmed her. In a rush, the feelings she had been trying to forget were pulled to the surface, and she turned away, afraid of what would happen if she stayed; yet she wasn't able to turn before meeting his eyes once. They were the same warm violet, the same ones that threatened to crash through her so-called control and had done so many times.

Arriving back at the hut moments later, breathless, she had dismissed it as a 'weird feeling', and said no more when Kagome asked. It had been so terribly wonderful, and she didn't want to think about what could have happened if they had spoken even a word.

Banishing the thoughts of him from her mind, she smiled at the gruff look Inuyasha wore. Kagome would be coming back around twighlight, and he was (as always) impatient for her return, though he wouldn't ever say as much. Shippo sat beside him, and Sango was hard-pressed not to burst into giggles as she saw how similar they were. Both sitting in the same arms-and-legs-crossed position, looking intently at the fire before them, ears twitching from time to time. The only true difference was Shippo's look of eagerness, compared to the stern visage that Inuyasha had. They were so alike, and she was willing to bet they didn't even know it.

After eating a swift breakfast, she announced her plan to go to the hot springs, before Kagome came back. The boys had let out little noises of acknowledgement so similar that they looked at each other in horror, and Sango had to hurry so that she could laugh freely. Collecting a soft 'towel' given to her by Kagome, as well as the little block of something called soap; she rushed off, eager to relax away from Inuyasha and Inuyasha Jr.

---

Dawn came slowly, far too slowly for Miroku, who had lost much sleep that night, for the first time since he had run into Sango at the market. He kept dreaming of her, her smiles, warm touches, and cool composure. It was odd, and he shook himself, rising. They hadn't spoken a word to one another since the night that she left his life forever, and he regretted every day that he didn't demand that they talk it out. But something held him back, a nagging voice in the back of his mind that told him he had no right to demand – or even ask – anything of her.

Getting up as the sun rose, he looked out toward where he knew she would be staying. Ignoring the feeling that had never left him, the one of a cold knife in the pit of his stomach, he went through his routine of fishing, weeding, and cooking breakfast with stoic temperance. He had just put the kettle on to boil when he realized the sun was getting higher quickly, and that the hot springs would soon be warm enough to bathe in comfortably. Perhaps it would even be warm by the time he was done eating, he mused to himself.

As he finished breakfast and washed the dishes in the stream, he began the trek towards the spring with a stubbornly blank face.

They entered the clearing at almost the same instant, but it took them a moment to notice that there was someone else in the vicinity. The turmoil caused by the coincidence was all behind their eyes, as they took in each other's presence. Wondering which God she had pissed off now, Sango turned to leave as Miroku forced himself to look up.

It was in that small instant that the bulge of Sango's stomach was most visible.

Miroku was slack-jawed for a moment, before he called her name.

"Sango! Sango, wait," he called, dropping the lava stone he had brought with him to scrub. She didn't look at him, but she stopped moving, her eyes cast down. Oh God, how could this happen? She wasn't supposed to see him again, let alone talk to him.

"Hello, Houshi-sama," she said in a small but firm voice, her hand placed gently over her stomach in a futile attempt at hiding the roundness of it.

"Do you carry a pack around your waist, Sango?" he asked, looking at her stomach. Judging from what he could see, she had to be at least four months along, give or take. Which meant…the child she carried would have to be his. The warmth that had begun to fill him at this thought was quelled when he realized that in order for her to be this far along, she would have been carrying the babe when he…

"No, I don't," she replied quietly, all the while cursing herself for her honesty. He nodded, not saying a word and the taiji-ya peeked at him from beneath her lashes.

"Yours," she breathed quietly, almost too quietly for Miroku to hear, and would have been, had his thoughts not been quite similar.

Sango straightened, refusing to give in to this again. It wouldn't happen, she couldn't let it. For her child's sake, if not for her own, she couldn't let him back in.

"But that fact is of no consequence," she said firmly, bending to collect the items she had dropped. "I suppose I should go, you're probably meeting someone."

Miroku was stunned, and hurt, but he knew that she had every right to say what she had. But somehow…he couldn't let her leave without saying one thing.

"I'm meeting no-one," he said honestly. "and I'm sorry that you would think such a thing."

"What am I supposed to think?" Sango asked. She had begun to walk away, and she didn't bother to turn around now, though she had stopped. "That you've spent the last month and a half playing prude?"

"You would be correct if you did."

The taiji-ya spun around, eyes glistening with tears.

"Stop it!" she cried. "Stop it right now!"

"Stop what?" Miroku asked, thoroughly puzzled.

"Stop being so…nice! You think that you can just say a few words and I'll come back to you like a lost little puppy? That's not how it works!"

A long silence passed between them at those words, though it was Miroku who eventually broke it.

"I never expected…to get you back, nor do I now," he said in a low voice. "All I want is for you to stop hurting on my account. You shouldn't spend your time thinking about some echhi houshi."

"Stop hurting?" Sango's voice was bitter with disbelief. "That didn't happen, Houshi-sama, and I don't expect it ever will."

The monk nodded, and turned to walk away. Somehow, hearing her tell him that she would never stop hurting had stung more than when he had seen her face that afternoon. Maybe it was the sting of knowing that had he only pushed the girl away after her first advance, then he and Sango would be sitting at home, talking…together. Almost to the edge of the forest, he heard her call out:

"Why?"

He turned, and saw her sitting on the ground, hands fisted in her lap.

"We were so happy…or at least, I was," she whispered. "Houshi-sama, wasn't I good enough?"

Words.

They had been speaking to one another since he first met her, words showing how they felt, or didn't feel, or what they thought. They had always seemed simple, innocent, easily passed from one person to another. Now, however, each word seemed to be a knife, and in the distant back of his mind he wondered how simple noise could hurt so much.

"I don't think," he said slowly, "That it is a case of you not being good enough. It is my fault alone that this happened. If you want, I will leave now, and you need never hear from me again, child or none."

The silence, curdling the air and freezing all time and noise, lasted a long while, swimming around them like a malicious imp.

"I ought to hate you."

Miroku blinked as Sango got up, walking towards him.

"I ought to despise you, wish you dead and gone, that you and I had never met."

The houshi's eyes never left hers as she walked until she stood in front of him. Sango looked at him, probing him for some sign of fakery, of that player's nature he flaunted so easily. Finding none, she thought she felt a tiny flame light inside her as she took his hand and placed it over her stomach.

"Yet somehow, I can't," she said quietly. "For some stupid, unknown reason…I can't hate you. Not ever."

It took all the willpower Miroku had not to sweep her into his arms at those words, to tell her that he loved her as well, that he would never be away from her again. But she wasn't finished, so he listened intently.

"I'm still hurt, and angry, but if for no other reason than I will not punish my child for your lechery, I don't want you to leave."

Miroku was in awe, the tiny flame that Sango had felt finding its way into him as well, but with a name.

Hope.

With those words, Sango fled the clearing, Kirara aiding her in flight. Miroku stood rooted to the spot, staring after her until she was no longer in sight. For Sango's part, she tried not to look back more than twice, but failed.

They progressed like that over the next few weeks, Sango taking the first step towards recovering even the slightest bit by coming to the hut they had once shared a few days later. Tiny snippets of conversation between them, mostly Sango asking questions and Miroku answering, but a lot was said about the upcoming birth as well.

Yet for some reason, it wasn't until the taiji-ya was well into her seventh month of pregnancy that she asked what had happened that day.

They sat on opposite sides of the table in their hut, Sango with a little more difficulty. Finally, she gave up and slid onto the three-legged stool that was the newest addition to their furniture. Shippo had made it, arriving at the home she and Miroku had begun to share once more with a wide smile and the stool, a bow tied of ragged red fabric Sango later found out was part of Kaede's hakama.

Now, she sat upon the item, Miroku looking at her, doing his best to keep eye contact. An awkward, tense moment passed between them before he began to speak. How was it, he wondered, that it was easier for words to be spoken in anger than in honesty?

"It was long since you had left," he started. "And I had gone out to collect some herbs for lunch from the garden. She…was sitting near the edge of the fence, and looked like she had been crying. When I asked what was wrong, I got only erratic, agitated words. I invited her in for a drink – a small cup of warm sake to relax her."

Sango blinked. Holding up her hand, a sign that had come to mean she wanted to ask something, she asked:

"Your intentions were benign?"

"Yes. There was a little warning in the back of my mind, but I thought no harm in helping someone so distressed."

"Go on," Sango replied, reminding herself that he had sworn to be totally honest, and willing to help prove himself trustworthy again.

"I never got the full reason why she was aggrieved, but one cup of sake turned into another, and potent as it is, another. Before long, the both of us were quite…inebriated. She was thanking me for my hospitality, and it was then that she kissed me."

Sango listened quietly, one hand lying on her stomach. They had agreed that there would be no lurid details, and hearing what had started it stung and soothed her at the same time.

"In our haste to reach the mat, the sake jar was broken, and it was not long after that when you entered."

"That's everything?" she asked. Miroku nodded.

"Everything," he confirmed. They didn't say anything for a while, not really looking at each other. It was Sango who first breached this, her eyes landing on his face as she said a quiet:

"Thank you."

Miroku looked up, meeting her gaze, and understood. Thank you, she was saying, for telling me honestly. Thank you for not leaving.

He smiled wearily at her, and she slid down off her chair, and into his arms. The warmth from his chest spilled into her body, and she leaned back.

Things had gotten rough, and she realized that Miroku probably wouldn't have strayed had circumstances been different. Had he not drank as much sake as he had, or if the woman (she refused to lower herself to even thinking of her with unkind words) had not initiated the kiss, then maybe it would have been different. Maybe she would have stumbled upon her husband sitting across from an anxious young woman, offering her a small comfort. Maybe she wouldn't have been there at all, only have been a story to be told upon her return from Kaede's.

Something fluttered hard in her stomach and she gave a small gasp.

Miroku looked at her worriedly, and met only his wife's awe-filled face. Awkwardly and hurriedly, she grabbed his hand and placed it on her stomach so he, too, would feel it. The houshi's face soon matched hers, and he asked what it was.

"It's happened before," she said. "At Kaede's. She and Kagome say that it's the babe kicking."

He smiled.

"The babe is strong, then," he said. "Like its mother."

Sango gave a tentative laugh, as did Miroku. It was the first time since before the incident, as she was silently calling it, and with it, came something else.

Hope.

Hope had sprung from the sot in the clearing months ago, when Sango had asked him not to leave, and hope sprung now from their tiny home, as they let themselves open up to one another.

Over the period of time in which they awaited the child's arrival, things proceeded in an almost natural fashion. Miroku left on his own only if necessary, and if he did, was always prompt, telling his wife exactly where he had been and what he had been doing, even if she was the one who sent him on the errand. It was part of what he did to help make Sango feel a little more emotionally secure, and it had been his idea entirely.

Well, almost.

Kagome had sat him down after he and Sango had come to a tentative truce, and explained what exactly needed to happen.

"This is about Sango," she had told him firmly. "It's about making her feel safe and secure, and helping her to trust you again. This takes just as long as she needs it to, and not a day shorter."

This had become a longer scolding, with many hints that Miroku was currently finding particularly helpful. Of course, the end of her little tirade had been much different.

"Remember," she had said. "It's all too easy for me to hide the Tessuaiga and put you in Inuyasha's path if you do this again."

He had to give her points for inventiveness, though she needn't have worried. Having come so close to losing everything he held dear once, he was not about to do it again.

Currently, he was making Onigiri, Sango's cravings for it running almost a week now. She sat beside him, waiting patiently. Sitting for any length of time, however, had become uncomfortable, and she stood awkwardly, sighing when Miroku dropped what he was doing to help her.

"You don't need to do that. I can get up on my own."

"Liar," he teased. "You almost fell over yesterday."

"I did no such thing," she replied with mock indignation. He smiled at her, and helped her to the stool that she had become so fond of. She had become a little more introverted since the incident, more like when he had first met her. But from time to time, he thought he saw flashes of the Sango he had once had, and the Sango he hoped to have once again someday. He knew he would have to earn it, but was not against the idea.

Nothing worth doing was easy, he had found, and if returning things to the way they once were wasn't worth trying, what was?

His mind was brought to the present when Sango gave a tiny noise of shock, almost covered by the sound of…water? He looked over at her, concerned, only to find her staring, wide-eyed, at the wet floor, and her even damper yukata.

She cried out and stumbled a little, wincing in pain. Miroku caught her, swearing violently as he settled her on the ground. The baby was coming, and he cursed himself for being unready. They knew it would be due soon, and should have moved her to Kaede's long ago.

When the pain passed, Sango struggled to stand, moving toward the door.

"Don't move!" Miroku urged, sticking his head out of the hut. As luck would have it, one of the villagers was passing by on the way back from the stream – or so Miroku supposed from the fish slung over his back.

Find Kaede-sama!" he cried, startling the man. "Quickly, and send her here!"

The man nodded, looking a little confused, but set off in a run. Sango had not played the quiet, peacefully expectant woman; instead refusing to let the pregnancy stop her from moving around, and it had indeed been a battle to coax her into staying home at her eighth month. This stubborn streak was showing itself now as she struggled to stand and walk, only to be floored by another shooting pain across her abdomen.

Miroku came to knees beside her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Sango, stay here. Kaede is on her way."

She gritted her teeth and scowled up at her husband.

"I'll be fine," she said brokenly. "Just get me to Kaede's."

"She's coming here, koi." Miroku squeezed her hand gently, and winced when his wife – strong as ever, apparently – squeezed back quite hard. Sweat had appeared on her face, and she was apparently in pain again.

Not long after, Kaede entered the room and shooed him away.

"We'll tell you when you can come in," she said firmly, shutting the flap behind him. He heard Sango give a tiny cry of pain, and frowned. Why couldn't he come in?

"Stay put, bouzu," a gruff voice said from behind him. "You go in there, and you'll die before seeing that kid of yours."

Inuyasha threw a clear jar of sorts – a plastic bottle, he remembered dimly – at him and he opened the top, drinking deeply of the water before closing it. Determined to keep himself distracted until he was allowed inside, he smiled grimly and turned to Inuyasha.

"So how's Kagome?" he asked.

---

It was almost sundown before he was allowed in the hut. He had refused to leave for supper, forcing Inuyasha to leave and collect some Onigiri for them. Kagome had been brought back earlier by the hanyou as well, but she seemed to be a little more patient than Miroku.

"Inuyasha and I will wait until you and Sango are ready," she had said happily.

The monk, rather impatient had rushed into the hut the moment he had been allowed. What he saw floored him entirely, though.

Sango lay propped up by sleeping blocks on a tatami mat, breathless and sweaty. Her hair clung to her face only the smallest bit, and she looked worn out, but happy. He walked over to sit next to her, and she smirked at him.

"You finally have your child, houshi-sama," she teased, and he smiled. She looked beautiful, and his mind shot back for only a fraction of a second, to his own mother, who had not survived birthing a cursed child. Sango did not have this difficulty, and she held their child out to him.

"Want to hold her?" she asked. Miroku gave her a baffled look, and his smile widened.

"A girl?"

"Yes. What do you want to name her?"

She was letting him…name their child? He blinked.

"Kaiyo," he said after a moment.

Sango nodded. Forgiveness. A fitting name for their tiny daughter, who stared up at her with wide blue eyes that crossed a little. Kaede had assured her it was normal, and that the child would learn to focus within a week or so. She handed the child to Miroku, who took her awkwardly.

"Support her whole body," Sango instructed, helping him. "Especially her head. Be careful."

Miroku looked down at the child, and felt something in him glow. His daughter…

To think that he had almost missed this was terrifying, and he refused the idea completely. Leaning down carefully as he handed the babe to her mother, he kissed Sango on the forehead.

"She's beautiful, Sango. Just like you."

The woman laughed, and Miroku curled up next to her, putting his arms around her so that she lay against his chest, holding their daughter near her heart.

Five years later, a young girl with black hair tied at the bottom like her mothers smiled charmingly up at a tall taiji-ya.

" 'Kaa-san," she said sweetly. "Can I go t' Shippo's hut? He told me Ka-me was gon' be there t'night."

Sango smiled at her daughter, and knelt down.

"Only if I take you and you stay all night. You can't go there and then decide you want to come home."

"Hai, 'Kaa-san," the little girl chirped, and rushed off to collect her belongings. The taiji-ya laughed, marveling at her speed. The tiny girl returned, brown eyes sparkling with mischief as her father trailed after her.

"I hear that you two are off on an adventure?" he asked wryly. Sango smiled.

"I'll be back quickly. Kagome's on her way tonight and Kaiyo wants to go meet her. She'll be spending the night at Kaede's."

"Amazing," Miroku gasped, looking at their daughter. "She never lets me go anywhere. How'd you do it?"

The little girl laughed and stuck out her tongue.

"Not telling! Fig're it out on your own!"

The man feigned hurt, but smiled as he hugged his cheerful daughter goodbye. When Sango returned, he slipped an arm around her waist as they went inside.

"She's got your smile," Sango told him when they sat down. "And someone's taught her puppy eyes."

"Shippo, I bet. I think he sees her as a younger sister."

"Hai, and I'm not surprised. They've been partners in mischief numerous times. I can't imagine what she'll be like with a little brother of her own."

"That's right," Miroku said mildly. "Didn't you promise me something like ten or twenty children at one point?"

"I don't remember that," Sango said, looking away.

"Allow me to remind you," the houshi said, pulling her into his lap to nibble at her collarbone. Sango gasped sharply.

"Cheater," she growled, tugging his hair out of the dragon-tail. It fell messily around his face, making him look more like the rouge she often suspected him of being.

Five years ago, she had almost lost this forever she mused absently as she tugged at his robes. Now, it was almost like their marriage was stronger for the incident.

Miroku managed to open her yukata, and had begun trailing heated breath and tiny kisses over her skin. At this point, Sango threw all forms of thinking to the wind and pushed her houshi back, kissing him soundly.

After all, she had much more important things to do than think.

---

Now, I can't even begin to count the number of people who are going to go bonkers on me, screaming in indignant reviews that Miroku would never do this. I would like to take this opportunity to tell these people to hit the back button on their browser. I have NO TIME for people who can't understand that the combination of alcohol and a willing young woman could very well have this effect on a man who has spent his entire life as a philanderer, and not all that long as a married man. I would also like to point out that sake is rather potent, and the two of them went through an entire bottle in minutes.

So I apologize to anyone I have offended, and to those who cannot accept this apology, and seem to think it necessary to insult me, please, go ahead. Flames make the best s'mores. And fangirl repellent.

This story is dedicated to two people. The first is my dear friend Akkiko, who mixed the CD that inspired this story. I refuse to say what song off of said CD it was that started this little work of madness, but I will give you a little soundtrack at the end of this note.

The second is Aamalie. She gets a dedication because she did not totally roast me when I told her about this story, and because she is probably the BIGGEST Miroku/Sango shipper out there.

As well, the sources for this story were:

The Kumo no Su website, which allowed me access to WILD amounts of fanart and fanfiction.

Yakusoku to Negai, which gave me more fanart and fanfiction (hey, I gotta get my perks somewhere!)

The REDBOOK Magazine website, which hosts amazingly well written and understandable articles on Affairs, types of Affairs, and how both husband and wife can get past them.

So yay for those sites, their moderators and affiliates! The last thing is a soundtrack of sorts to this story, which is rather short, but has all the songs that I used to help set the mood, ideas, and style of this story.

My Happy Ending, Avril Lavigne

Terra's Theme, Final Fantasy 6

Field of Innocence, Evanescence

Opening Theme, Kingdom Hearts (Japanese Version)

Ja ne!