Disclaimer: Do I look like Rumiko Takahashi?

Hojo: Umm… maybe?

Oh, shut up. You aren't even in this story.

And for all you Shakespeare fans out there, the title is not in my words; thank The Bard's 27th sonnet for that. (I highly recommend that you read it.)

Hojo: Hey, I know! You're William Shakespeare!

…………………… some things are just sad.

A/N: Okay, brace yourselves, this is gonna be a long one… and if fluff makes you gag, keep a garbage can handy.

And whatever you do, DON'T JUMP TO CONCLUSIONS AT THE END!

5
Journey in my Head

"Sesshoumaru-sama!" Jaken raced up to his lord's side. "I have it!"

The inuyoukai took the vial, examined it. His expression never wavered; he simply turned and began walking, leaving Jaken to catch up.

"Do you want me to apply the potion, Sesshoumaru-sama?"

"No."

"But—"

"No, Jaken. You would not be able to. Kagura is quite capable of sensing and annihilating you, even in her sleep. I will do this."

"Hai, Sesshoumaru-sama. But—"

"Shut up, Jaken."

"But Sesshou—"

Sesshoumaru stopped, looked down at Jaken. His expression would have given an avalanche second thoughts. "Have I somehow left any doubt as to my wishes on the subject?"

Jaken quailed nearly to the point of wetting himself. "N-n-no, S-s-sesshoum-m-maru-s-sama."

"Then silence."

The toad youkai could only nod frantically. Sesshoumaru resumed walking.

His elegantly slanted ears twitched once at a slight noise behind him—was it a bird, or a childish giggle?—but when he glanced back, nothing was there.

Kagura may have been able to hide her own scent, but Sesshoumaru could have picked up Rin's through a head cold in monsoon season. He'd brought her back to life; that was one bond he couldn't have broken if he'd wanted to. All he had to do was follow the trail, since the wind witch would hardly have left her prize unattended.

Surprisingly enough, she hadn't gone far. He found them in a—tree.

Well, in a nest the size of a koi pond in a tree. But still.

He didn't fly up, and disturb the winds; that would have woken Kagura. Instead he narrowed his eyes at the indignity—only lesser beings sighed in exasperation—and, using his long claws as crampons, began to climb.

She is going to pay for all this filth under my nails. And for making me climb a tree one-handed. Damn my bastard half-brother, too. I wasn't finished with that arm…

In the nest, he paused. Kagura was curled protectively around little Rin, both of them deep asleep. He didn't quite know what he'd expected, but it hadn't been to find Kagura apparently treating his young charge as her own.

To his amazement—he had often told himself that no being could harm him, and had believed it with ample reason for several hundred years—he found himself a little hurt that Rin would so easily trust his enemy.

He swiftly reprimanded himself. Rin is young, and human. She trusts easily. And Kagura can be… charming… when she wishes to.

He refused to let himself read too much further into that last thought.

Carefully, he uncorked the flask, holding it closed with his finger as he approached the sleeping woman. She stirred a little, faint frown lines appearing between her arched brows, and he froze, not even breathing. Don't you dare wake up, you obstinate creature. It would be just like her to defy him even as he put his plan into action…

She relaxed, and so did he. Dabbing a little of the clear, pinkish liquid onto his fingers, he leaned forward and… realized that he didn't know what to do with it.

He came very close to swearing out loud, but another slight movement from Kagura caught him just in time. I'm going to KILL Jaken. Then I'm going to revive him and kill him again. And maybe again. Stupid shitface, couldn't tell me how to use the damned stuff, oh no…

The aforementioned dead man was doing a very strange form of dance at the base of the tree his master had climbed. It looked as if a swarm of hornets had invaded his robes. And he kept gesturing to his eyes and mouth.

Belatedly Sesshoumaru realized that the toad had recognized his error and was trying to correct it. Perhaps I'll only kill him once. Eyes and mouth, then… He bent over Kagura again, smearing one drop each on her closed eyelids, careful not to smudge the makeup or spill the vial. It was a highly difficult task to manage one-handed. He hesitated then, but resolutely dabbed a final drop onto his index finger and, butterfly-lightly, touched it to both her lips.

She stirred once more at his last touch, her lips parting slightly in a breathy sigh. The action wafted a mixture of the sweet bite of the potion and her own scent—a blend of juniper and rain—into his sharp nose, drying his mouth to paper. If there was one weakness to him, it was in his nose…

Then those smells gave way to the rank stench of death and poison—Naraku's mark on her.

He pulled away carefully, let his eyes rest once more on Rin—if anything happens to her, Kagura…—climbed out of her treetop nest, landed silently on the ground.

"Sesshoumaru-sama?"

"Silence. She might still wake up."

Jaken, knowing full well what the result of that would be, gulped and shut up. He was too anxious to notice that his unflappable master's hand was shaking.

…………………………………………

Sango sighed and eased a kink out of her shoulder as she slid off Kirara's back. "We might as well stop here. Even youkai sleep at night." She glanced sideways at Miroku, who was absently rubbing Kirara's ears. "Are you tired, Houshi-sama? We could rest here if you are."

Miroku, about to answer no, he was fine, thank Sango for her concern, glanced back at the taijiya and stopped. He may not have been tired, since all he'd needed to do today was wave ofuda around as a threat, but Sango needed rest. She'd been using Hiraikotsu with alacrity today, and he was under no illusions concerning the damage her weapon could deal, or the effort it took to wield it. Kami-sama knew he'd been on the receiving end of it often enough.

Besides, they were well and truly lost. It would do no good to try to find their way in the dark.

So he smiled. "Arigatou, Sango. I am tired; we can make camp here, if you'd like."

"All right. Kirara-chan, could you help me start a fire?"

They ate a dinner composed of instant ramen (lifted from Kagome's backpack by an unrepentant Miroku) and some of Sango's travel-ration fish jerky. The taijiya laughed at Miroku's expression when she told him what it was. It was good to hear her laugh; she didn't do it often. The absence of the others eventually made itself known, however. There was no Shippou to charm fantastic stories out of Kagome or adventurous tales from Sango, and there was no Inuyasha to bring back entire armloads of fresh fish from Kami-sama knew where or make an ass of himself over Kagome's ramen. They were his friends, in the truest sense, Miroku realized. He missed them.

His eyes drifted to Sango again, to the firelight playing over her dark hair and smiling eyes and curvaceous form, and he was forcefully reminded that the others' absence also meant that he was alone. In the woods. With Sango.

Suddenly, the others' contributions didn't seem like such a priority anymore. He was well aware that this was shallow of him, but this was also Sango they were talking about here. Brave, beautiful, lithe, shapely Sango…

The taijiya yawned and stretched, breaking off his train of thoughts before it rambled into even less innocent regions. "Gomen, Houshi-sama, could you take first watch? I don't think I'd be able to stay awake…"

"Hai, Sango," he assured her softly, smiling a little since they'd ostensibly stopped because he was tired. She got little enough rest as it was; he wouldn't begrudge her her pride.

"Arigatou…" Sango laid out her bedroll, tied back her hair, and curled up to go to sleep. Miroku stayed sitting by the fire, letting his gaze caress her body and wishing that he dared let his hands do the same. It was astonishing what true respect could do for your restraint. Aggravating, too.

Apparently the longing in his eyes wasn't hidden well enough. Sango's eyes flickered open. "Houshi-sama? Is there something wrong?"

"Wrong?" How was it that the times he hadn't done anything were the times he sounded the most guilty?

"You've been staring at me all evening."

He'd intended to say something light in response, try to laugh it off. What came out of his mouth was, "Just admiring you."

That cleared the sleep from her gaze. He could have kicked himself. Hadn't he trained himself for years not to say the first thing that came into his head? He steeled himself for something to the effect of a smack on the head and a muttered "Hentai."

"Houshi-sama…" She sat up. He wondered whether she realized that if her yukata gaped just another few inches then he would be the happiest man in the world. "I've been… wondering…"

"Wondering what, Sango?" Just an inch or two more…

She hesitated, then said deliberately, "What were you… planning… for afterward?"

Eep. He stalled for time. There was no sense getting her hopes up… or his. "Afterward?"

"Afterward." The flatness of that confirmation told him she wasn't buying his ruse for the time it took to itch a fleabite. "What were you planning?"

In his experience, honesty was only the best policy if nobody was watching. No matter how true it was, he wasn't going to tell her that he'd follow her to the ends of the earth if she happened to decide that it would be an interesting thing to do; he wasn't going to tell her that he'd marry her if he could, and raise their children with her, and grow old with her because she was Sango, herself. All he wanted.

"I hadn't really thought that far ahead."

She looked away for a moment, catching her lip between her teeth, then back at him. "I have." Deep breath.

"Have you thought of marriage, Houshi-sama?"

Shit. She said the 'm'-word. "Some," he hedged, meaning that he'd thought about it once or twice a second since the day he'd met her. He made doubly sure that that thought never showed on his face. As delightful as intelligent women were, their very acuity made it hell to live with them sometimes. Now he had to say something true enough to throw her off the scent… "It—forgive me, but it doesn't seem like something I can hope for right—"

"Don't, Houshi-sama!" His eyes widened at the vehemence with which she cut him off, unable to look away from her own, suddenly terrified, brown gaze.

"Don't act as if there won't be anything after Naraku," she continued in a softer tone, though there was no trace of yielding in it. "If you don't hope for tomorrow, you won't see it."

"Hai, Sango," Miroku answered quietly. "But you have to admit the probability that I—we—won't."

Once again, he appreciated the difference between Sango and the others. Kagome would have looked stricken. Inuyasha would have seized him by the collar and told him to shut up about it. The monk would never have said something like that to Shippou.

Sango eased herself out of her bedroll, her eyes never leaving his face. She didn't stop until their noses were bare inches from each other. Half of him screamed Danger Danger You are now within Easy Slapping Range. The other half retorted Screw that, she's RIGHT THERE… go, go, go, just a little further…

"If you get yourself killed," the taijiya told him steadily, "I will never speak to you again."

The unexpected absurdity of it shattered the mood; to his own surprise, he grinned, then began to laugh quietly. She joined in after a moment, and then the laughter swelled out too far for either of them to contain. Soon they were wiping tears from their eyes.

After that, of course it was logical to prop themselves up on each other while they recovered. And it followed the natural flow of things for Miroku to snug one casual arm around Sango's waist, and for her to relax into him. And after that it was the most natural thing in the world for them both to try to look at each other at the same time, and for it to be their lips rather than their eyes that met—

At this point Miroku's procession of thought screeched madly to a halt—only to begin ricocheting off the walls waving pompoms and screaming Whoo-HOO! Coherence was overrated, anyway… this was everything he wanted, everything he couldn't have imagined.

If only I didn't need oxygen, he thought regretfully as said dependency eventually prompted the two to part. He held the taijiya's gaze freely now, and even though a frankly adorable blush was rouging her cheeks, she didn't look away either.

He took that as encouragement, and kissed her again.

"Miroku…" she breathed when they separated once more, eyes half-lidded. If she'd been Kirara she'd have been purring.

Wait. Stop. Rewind…

"What did you say, koibito?"

Her eyes flew open wide. "What did you say?"

"I asked you first." Please let it be that…

"Miroku."

He knew he was grinning like an idiot, and didn't care. "Kami-sama, it feels so good to hear you say that… koibito."

Things got a little fuzzy after that…

…………….

A/N: WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT JUMPING TO CONCLUSIONS?