Disclaimer: I own nothing, unfortunately.
A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! You are all so kind, and all of your comments made me so happy! Sorry for the suckiness of the last chapter. And yes, it was awful!
Miroku- She doesn't think it was angst-y enough.
It wasn't, so this chapter is extra angst filled! (looks over chapter) (gasps) What's this? Miroku/Sango cuddlies? Hints of fluff and plot? And we get a look at Miroku's tragic past.
Miroku- We do? Wait…should I be exicted about this?
(shrugs) I think it's sad, but don't take my word for it. Hope you all like it and remember to review! Oh yeah, and I really recommend reading the lyrics for this chapter, it just adds to the whole dramatic effect!
"This isn't working," he murmured softly.
She frowned at him, though she tried to force a smile. "We just have to give it time," she assured him.
This was the fifth time they'd met that week for one of their sessions. And still, they were nowhere. It wasn't as if she expected him to immediately open up to her; to spill out every secret of his heart and soul, inviting her inside of his mind and thus giving her everything she needed to help pull him out of whatever darkness he'd somehow fallen into. She knew it would take time to earn his trust, if that was something he could even do.
From the first moment she'd met him, she could tell that he did not trust easily; if he even trusted at all. Though, if she had been through the things he had surely had to endure, then she would not be one to allow anyone into her mind. She imagined that once, maybe, he had trusted someone like that. Given them everything; his heart, his soul, his entire world, and they had betrayed him. The way he seemed, the aura about him, made her believe that something like that had happened to him; he had given of himself, only to have everything be ripped away.
He stared at her, eyes blank though his emotions were swirling deep inside of him. Inside, the inner conflict between his heart and mind were still pulling at him, as they had been for the past few weeks.
On one hand, there was his mind; the logical part of him that told him to fight, to deceive, to manipulate, to do anything and everything to survive in a harsh world where no one would ever care. His will was pushing him to use this woman to every extent he could think of. Take this chance she believed she was offering out of caring and faith and twist it to his own advantage. Use her, leave here, finish his job for Naraku and continue to fight.
His heart, on the other hand, screamed at him with such a ferocity that it made his head ache. It told him to just stop fighting; give up, let her help, take help from anyone. It kept trying to convince him that surviving wasn't worth it if he had to distort himself into the man he'd tried so hard not become. His heart was telling him to take this woman's hand, look past the fake smiles and cherish those that were real, and just give in and let himself be pulled out of this Hell.
He did want to fight; he wouldn't be weak. But what would he fight for? He didn't want to die. He didn't want to fall. He didn't want to be the poor, pathetic failure that everyone had said he would be. The concept of giving up infuriated him, even though he knew that it might be the best thing for him. It was the act itself, not what he would receive for it. Didn't people always tell you to fight? Wasn't it those people with the empty smiles and false promises that everything would be all right who encouraged him to never give up?
It was a contradiction, and he felt like an idiot sometimes for obsessing over it. Fight and survive, but live that life that he fought for regretting every move, or give in and become weak, but at the same time he was depending on everyone else to keep him from going under, stop himself from becoming everything he hated. It was to confusing to him, and he knew that no matter what he chose, he would end up hating himself today just as much as he did yesterday.
And it wasn't fair. Why had he been given this life? Was it just some test; a twisted game to see if he could survive it? If it was a test, could he win? Would there be a reward in the end? If he managed to find the answers and lived through all of this, would he be able to go in peace to the light at the end of tunnel? Did it even matter to him anymore? He knew either way, fight or give in, win or lose, alive or dead, he was damned.
He looked at her and then glanced at the clock. He realized -to his embarrassment- he had been brooding again. For the last fifteen minutes no less.
"Gomen," he apologized, slightly irritated with himself.
'Your getting no where. If your going to find a way to use her to get out of here, your going to have to hurry it up. She might just give up on you.'
He scowled to himself. At first, that had been his plan. Use her to leave; as a pawn of sorts, he supposed. But then he did something dangerous; he started to get to know her. She was sweet, caring, strong, and beautiful. She held a hope in her dark eyes that sparkled and made him feel like smiling, because he had not seen such a blind faith in anyone other than a child, though most of the children he knew were on the streets. He could tell that there was something she was carrying; he could see the immense pain she was holding behind her eyes. And for some reason, that made him feel better, and yet, it made him angry. To see that she could be so genuinely honest, but still hold a mask made of lies; she made him think. Made him wonder about her past. Made him want to get to know her better. Made him care.
That wasn't something he did. He couldn't -wouldn't- allow himself to feel. For years he'd met people, had connections that faded throughout his life, and not one of them had stuck. Not really friends; acquaintances he sometimes called upon. Not really a lover; one night stands in a dirty hotel room and false impressions that he would call tomorrow. Not really a family; people who had come and gone on a whim. And then this woman just came into his life, offering a real smile and a chance to live and everything he knew was turned upside down. She was like no one he had ever met before. She was everything he hated about himself; kind, heartfelt, full of emotions and the strive to save everyone. It hurt.
He could see himself loving her, and it scared him. He could see himself holding this woman in his arms and laughing with her; could see himself sharing soft kisses and smiles. He wondered how he could come to feel such things -things he hadn't felt in what seemed like an eternity- so quickly. Was it because that void inside of him, that emptiness was longing for these feelings that had crashed down upon him? Or maybe, perhaps, it was meant to be? But that was silly, because he didn't believe in destiny. If he believed in destiny, in fate, then it would mean he was meant to live this life. Either that or he had screwed up so incredibly this had been forced on him as punishment.
"We could start with your family," she suggested, noticing the look of intense concentration on his face. She wanted him to let her in; she needed him to share some of those feelings with her. If he did, she could connect; if she could connect, then she could find a way to help him. Maybe…
He laughed, or, tired to anyway. His throat was dry and his voice was raspy, so what he meant to be a careless chuckle came out as almost a choked sob. "You don't want to know about them."
"Their part of your past," she insisted softly. "Without them, you wouldn't be here."
"I don't know if that would be such a bad thing," he muttered and rested his head in his hands.
'That's it. Play the sympathy card. She'll think you sad and take pity on you. Work on her; she'll get you out.'
He didn't want to work on her. He wanted out, but he didn't want to use her. He didn't want to hurt her. 'But,' he realized grimly. 'by allowing her this chance, even giving her a glimpse inside of the twisted-ness that is my scarred little psyche, it is hurting her.' He should have never agreed to this. What had he been thinking? Using someone who appeared an innocent for his advantage. And so he could do what? Steal more, lie more, have more blood on his hands? 'Idiot!'
She frowned at him and gently touched his arm. "Don't say things like that," she whispered to him. "Tell me about your father." He didn't stir and she removed her hand from his arm, chewing on her bottom lip momentarily. "You don't have to, but it will help if I know. I could…"
"My father," he said as he lifted his head. A long sigh escaped his lips. He could lie to her, he knew that. It wouldn't be hard. But…what would it accomplish by being dishonest with the last person on the face of the planet he might be able to trust? "My father was…a cop."
A smile tugged at her lips and her eyes seemed to lighten. "So was mine," she said.
"Oh really?" he questioned.
"Yeah," she answered as he returned his smile. "He was a force to be reckoned with. He was…brilliant, some people called him. He died in the line of duty, a few years ago. There was this big drug bust…" She shook her head and trialed off.
"I'm sorry," he said. And it scared him, because he meant it.
"It's all right…" she whispered. "It's hit my younger brother the hardest, though. He has to testify in court about it."
"Was he…there?"
She nodded. "My father was at a store, picking up some things for dinner when he saw one of the suspects of a huge drug bust that had escaped. He called for back up, but it never came. The man had a gun, and was there specifically to get him. My brother he…didn't see it happen…but he found our father bleeding and saw the mans face as he retreated."
He nodded, unable to say anything. 'Drug bust…murder…could it be?' No, of course not. It was pure coincidence. Not even Naraku was that stupid.
"Gomen, don't mind me!" she said suddenly. "You don't need to here my problems, do you? Come on now, tell me about your father."
"My father was…well…I don't guess he was as glamorous as yours."
'What the hell do you think your doing? Telling her the truth? If you let her in, you know what will happen. You'll get attached, you'll lose.'
Stupid voices. It was his life. He could ruin it if he wanted to.
"He grew up on the poor side of town. Met my mother in high school and got her pregnant at age fifteen." He smiled, bitterly. "I guess I should be kind of glad they never had any money. If they had, then they'd have had the money for that abortion my mother was always saying she'd wished she'd had."
She held back a gasp. How could a parent ever say that to a child? How could someone ever put another person -let alone their own flesh and blood- down like that?
"After about a million dead end jobs," he continued, half-way noticing the stunned expression on her face. "he joined the police force. It was kind of funny, actually. When he told me I couldn't stop laughing…well…until he…" He trailed off shaking his head. There was no need to go into detail, was there? The story of one of his mothers many empty beer bottles that had been lying around the house being broken over his head to shut him up could always be saved for a rainy day. "Anyway so, he was a cop. My mother would have gotten a job, but she was a full time alcoholic.
"They weren't completely awful people, I suppose. In public they were perfect. Always kissing each other and laughing and joking. They even found ways to brag about their perfect little boy." He almost smiled then too. In some twisted way he was fond of those memories. When he would go to a party with his parents and hear them say so many wonderful things about him, then when they went home, he, in his young naivety, would ask them why they said those things to other people, yet always told him he was nothing but a useless mistake? When he asked why they hugged him then and hit him at home.
He didn't say this, but somehow, she put the pieces of the unspoken words together. Her heart went out to him. She had to admit though, she was almost glad when he didn't go into detail. She didn't want to know what kind of awful things he must have gone through alone in that house.
"My fathers partner, a man by the name of Tsume, would come around sometimes. He let me spend the night at his house even though he didn't like me. I wasn't too fond of him either, but I went anyway. It was better than a nightly beating.
"I remember when we had take your child to work day at my school. I knew it would be awful, having to spend time with my father, but I was excited. I would get to go to the police station, and if we stayed around enough people, then he would at least have to pretend to be nice to me. We were driving through town, just checking things out while Tsume explained the way the radio works to me. And then…there were shots."
He stopped momentarily, looking over at her. Her eyes were wide, swimming with concern. Not fake pity; not forced sympathy. Concern.
"They jumped out of the car. I stayed inside and hid. Once, I dared to look out the window. They were gang members. A few days before Tsume and my father had put their leader behind bars, and they were coming for revenge. One of them fired at Tsume and it almost got him…but my father…It was the one good thing he'd done with his life. Well, that's what people told me anyway. The one thing that he did right; he took that bullet for Tsume. I watched him die. And I remember…feeling nothing.
"I had to tell my mother. Tsume couldn't do it, and no else really wanted to. I don't know why my father died for him. Some people though it was because he finally wanted to be a hero, but I think he was just tired. I think he took that bullet because he was too weak to do it himself. Well…I guess that doesn't matter.
"Anyway, my mother. Well she was…she was crushed. She yelled for hours to the sky, cursing my fathers name. She screamed at me, why? She wanted to know why he had left her with nothing but a piece of shit son and bills to pay. I think she went crazy then. Her drinking became worse, but I couldn't complain. When she drank more, she passed out sooner, so there was less time for her to hit and yell at me.
"Finally, I guess, it just got to be too much. She was yelling at me one night, I don't remember what about. She was hitting me with…with something heavy." He felt his voice begin to falter, tears forming in his eyes. It'd been so long since he thought about it, but the vision in his mind came on strong. He was curled up in the corner, crying as his mother hit him over and over and over again with one of his fathers old belts. He remembered the beer bottles being smashed next to him, pieces of glass embedding itself into his skin, his blood and tears mixing and running down his skin.
"I…I just wanted her to die," he said, voice barely above a whisper. He wanted to stop. He'd said too much already. He'd let her in too deep. There was no way, no way in Hell he could use her now. "I…kicked her. She was so drunk she fell back against the table. She didn't even bother to get back up. Somehow she managed to crawl to the sink, and reached the cabinet, where we kept all the pills…"
The telling of it was beginning to get to be too much. She could sense the strain in his voice.
"I just sat there for hours. I watched her pour bottle after bottle of little white pills down her throat. I watched her vomit it all up and then do it again. I watched…I saw…she asked me to call the hospital. She told me that if she didn't…she swore to Kami she would kill me if I didn't help her. And I…just…sat there…"
She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him to her. He was surprised and at first didn't know what was happening. He went completely stiff in her arms. But then, after a few moments, he realized what was going on. 'She's…embracing me.' No one had ever, not in his entire existence, held him like this. He looked up at her hesitantly. What would he see in her eyes? Pity, sympathy, disgust? He finally met her gaze and saw…
…tears.
Tears. She was crying….crying…
For him.
"It's not your fault," she whispered in his ear. "They weren't good enough for you. You shouldn't have had to go through that. But, you have to understand me. Your so much stronger then all of that. You're not worthless…you're not…"
"You…" He pulled away from her, their faces hanging only six or seven inches apart. "You don't think I'm…"
"What?" she asked him softly.
"You're crying," he whispered. He lifted his hand and brushed away a few tears. "Why?"
"Because it wasn't fair," she answered. "You deserved so much better."
He pulled away shaking his head. "How can you say that? You don't even know me! How can you say that I deserved…how can you…? I'm a murderer! I've sinned…I've done so much…I let her die. I killed her. My own mother. I…I'm nothing! I really…I really am just pitiful, pathetic, worthless, no good…"
"I can see it in your eyes," she said. It was soft, and he barely caught it. When he did he stopped abruptly. He stared at her, searching her eyes for something, anything he could relate to. "You're not a murderer, you're not nothing. You have a good heart, and I can see it. You're…human."
Human? He blinked. No one had ever called him that before. Stupid, worthless, useless, scum, dirt, trash; but not human. Never human. He felt warm wetness on his cheek, and realized that for the first time in years, he was crying. He also realized that this was the first time he'd actually told the story. 'And she…cares.'
'Don't be stupid. She couldn't care less. She just thinks it's pitiful. Your weakness is disgusting, do you know that?'
Damned voices!
"I'm so, so sorry," she whispered and for a moment he stiffened again. Noticing this she added, "For making you tell me. I shouldn't make you relive that."
"No," he said, and a smile managed to grace his lips. "I'm…glad. You're the first person I've ever told about how she died."
She blinked. "The police…"
"I ran away, right after," he answered. "I checked for a pulse and when…when I realized she was dead I ran. I've been on the streets ever since."
She hugged him again. This time, he wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face into her neck. And for the first time in his entire life, he let all of his defenses slip down.
Silhouettes above the cradle hold me down
They won't let me go the wrong way
My mother taught me all the fables, told me how
In the end all the sinners have to pay
But -
I don't wanna live like my mother
I don't wanna let fear rule my life
And I don't wanna live like my father
I don't wanna give up before I die
He worked so hard his bones are breaking
He wore them down but long ago he lost the feeling
His good intentions leave me shaking, show me how
I don't ever want to end up like he did
And -
I don't wanna live like my mother
I don't wanna let fear rule my life
And I don't wanna live like my father
I don't wanna give up before I die
When I have kids
I won't put any chains on their wrists, I won't
I'll tell them this
There's nothing in this world
That you can't be if you want it enough
Silhouettes: Smile Empty Soul (cough) again (cough)