Author's Note: Sorry I'm so late with this (not to mention my other current fics as well) – the thing is about halfway through this chappie I got stuck, and I couldn't seem to bring myself to start on any other chapters until I'd gotten past my block on this one. I did write a oneshot (for Ranma ½), which is on my bio, as well as about a chapter of a new Mir/San fic (not The Best Man – this one's called Fooling Around, and it was one of those random inspirations I just couldn't resist), which I may polish up, and post at some point. Just what I need, right? Another fic to neglect...
Oh well. But I still hold fast to my promise that I will never abandon a fic. I hate unfinished stories...
Anyway, here I am now with the next installment of Missing in Action. Oh! I almost forgot (--grin--) thanks to whoever took pity on me and nominated this story for a Protégé. Love ya! And for those of you who haven't seen my bio page lately, the People's Choice polls (for Protégé) are up, so vote for me pretty please! The url is on my bio. I won't win I know -- I'm in like fifth place for my category...but last time I checked I was beating Rozefire's Father Figure, which I'm proud of! I've read that fic and it's better than this one...but pretend you didn't hear that...(--grin--)
Crystal Music: Moi? Fond of metaphors? (--bats eyelashes innocently--) Never... (--grin--) You know what's weird? That last line of the last chapter (the one you thought was overdone – and I must admit, I kinda see your point...) – someone else (can't remember who) said they thought it was really effective. Isn't it strange how the same thing can appear totally differently to two different people? (--shrugs--) Just thought that was interesting...
Fallen-Snow: Yeah, I've heard of the stages of grief (ever see that episode of Frasier? I love that one...), but the thing is that (according to my psych. prof.) often times the early stages actually go by so fast that they're not really manifested outwardly. They're more like instinctive reactions. Anyway, I pretty much based their reaction on my own experience when I found out that one of my friends' mother had been killed last year (though that was a bit different of course). Nonetheless, looking back at it, you're probably right to some degree – I think I rushed it a bit. It's hard not to at the end of a chapter, y'know? (--grin--) And that flashback thing is a good idea...
regni: Thanks so much – glad you like it. And yay for Hogan's Heroes! You know I once read an article in TV Guide that placed it as one of the fifty worst TV shows of all time...feh, this from the people who brought us things like American Idol and The Apprentice. And they dare mock Hogan? Grrr...(--grin--) Oh, and I'll be sure to put that book on my 'Things to Read' list – thanks!
Pixie Jones: Oh my god, I do that pacing thing too! You should have seen me while I was reading Dead Famous – I swear I got more exercise reading that fic than running the mile (lol)
Ariel: (--happy dance--) Ahh, that was fun! (--grin--)
tk239: (--sticks out tongue--) shut up... (--grin-- sorry, I couldn't resist...)
Aki Shindo: (--grin--) Feel free to suck up whenever you like! I'm sort of what you might call...'invisible' in real life, so this is where I get to indulge myself (lol). Seriously though, that's a huge compliment, and as to your question, well...can't really answer that one can I? TTFN!
Ayrith: First of all, let me assure you that I'm in no way offended by your review – on the contrary, I totally identify with it. I actually left a pair of reviews with a similar ring to them for another story (though mine were on the subject of Inu/Kik versus Inu/Kag – I just can't take the Inu/Kik pairing, even as a subplot, which it was in the case of the story I reviewed). The thing is (and I read your review to Alter Ego as well, so I'm taking that into account) that I actually like Kikyo as a character. I play her as evil at times, as well as non-evil (as in AE) – it's only when she's in the way of an Inu/Kag pairing that I can't stand her. But whether evil or not, I always try to give her substance. Any character without substance is just plain dull, and to tell you the truth I think the evil characters are often the most fun to write and analyze (not to mention play). Whichever way I go with her in a particular fic, I'm usually writing her as the character I would want to play in the story if it were on stage or something, so, from an objective standpoint, I guess she's one of my favorites as well. Anyway, I'd better shut up or people will get annoyed at me for taking up space. Ta ta!
Sarien: (to your review of ch 1) I know exactly what you mean. I sit here reading fics and just automatically correcting spelling and grammar under my breath as I go along (isn't that sad?). One of these days I'm going to find a way to write a high school fic that actually approximates what high school is really like – something lightyears away from, "Kag and Inu are the most popular kids in school..." blah, blah, blah... I have yet to find such a fic. Wouldn't that be great? (to your review of ch 13) As to the cohabitation of humans and demons, well, I must admit I don't really have an entire history to explain it. I guess I'm sort of thinking of the demons as a nationality without a specific country (kind of like the Jews before the Zionist movement, though not discriminated against in the same way – and obviously not victims of the Holocaust, because then Naraku and Kouga would be in big trouble. I guess their demon powers qualify them to be part of the 'Master Race'...) Does that make sense?
Dolphingirl0113: I think I told you this already, but thanks so much for reading and I'm glad you like it!
Rika: Twelve times?! Man, I don't think I could read it twelve times...(--grin--)
nitre angel: In answer to your question from ch 11, the thing is that Kouga already had his suspicions about her, but he didn't want to believe them. When he walked in on them, she knew the jig was up. In answer to your second question, well, he was a little busy running for his life at the time...(--grin--)
Jade Catseye: (--grins like an idiot--) Thanks! Glad you like it! I love it when author's I know read my stuff – makes me feel all warm and fuzzy...(lol)
KittySamurai503: Of course it's not the end! I'm not that mean...(--grin--)
Ahhh! Please don't kill me for the long review replies! I'll try to control myself next time, really I will...
Missing in ActionChapter 14: Departure
Sight, sound, and sensation seemed inseparable, indistinguishable from one another in the musty darkness of that deep chamber. Every breath she drew was an effort, and the only way she managed to cling to consciousness was by focusing the whole of her attention on maintaining them -- in and out, in and out, like the tides of the ocean. Her eyelids drooped sleepily, but she refused to give in -- there was no telling what they might do to her if she were to fall asleep. Not that she was in any position to prevent them, bound as she was, wrists tied securely to the back of the rough wooden chair in which she had sat for who knows how long. Nonetheless, if she were awake she would, at the very least, be aware of anything that should befall her, and at the moment it seemed that that knowledge was the sole weapon in her arsenal.
She drew another whisper of a breath and bowed her head to her chest, squeezing her eyes shut for just a moment. She was so tired -- every inch of her body ached, and there was a layer of grime and dirt coating her skin and tattered clothes, mingled with blood from the lacerations on her arms and legs. Her hair was matted and disheveled, a few strands hanging limply about her face. A trace of blood lingered upon her lower lip, which was swollen and cracked, dark bruises marring her otherwise pale skin, and tears of pain that she had been unable to wipe away were now long dried upon her cheeks.
I have to be strong, she thought bracingly. I must endure this -- I knew the possible consequences when I began this journey and I accepted them. I will do as I must, regardless of what happens to me.
The door behind her opened with an ominous, echoing clang, and she utilized her remaining strength to lift her head in order to face the man who came around before her.
Kouga looked down at her stonily, cold hatred evident in his expression, but she managed to meet his gaze defiantly, with as much dignity as she could muster under the circumstances. "You still refuse to cooperate," he mused darkly, growing weary of this little game. Though he spoke in German, she understood every word, and responded in kind.
"I do," she replied grimly. "I refuse to-"
"Still believe that your hanyou savior will come flying to your rescue on wings of eagles, do you?" he interrupted contemptuously.
"Leave Inuyasha out of this -- it has nothing to do with him."
"Indeed," the wolf-demon nodded. "I feel obligated to inform you that he will not be coming for you -- now or ever."
Her eyes narrowed upon the man's smug face and she demanded, "What have you done to him?"
"He has been...taken care of," he replied darkly. "When he learned of your 'untimely demise', he went into a rage and mounted an ill-fated escape attempt. Needless to say, we put him out of his misery."
Kagome made no reply, the unspoken implication of Kouga's words seeping under her skin like a poison, pooling within her and sapping her of all her strength of will. Then he's... She couldn't even bring herself to think the words, lest she lose hold of what fragile composure she had managed to preserve throughout this ordeal.
Now was not the time for such thoughts. She couldn't afford to lose herself to her grief -- not yet. Drawing yet another painfully thin breath and forcing her emotions to the back of her consciousness, she brought her attention to the matter at hand. "What is it you want here, Kouga? I hardly think that you would take time out of your busy schedule just to inform me of such a small incident."
"Indeed, Miss Kagome, I would not -- you know me too well. But then I suppose that's exactly what got you into trouble in the first place, isn't it?" He spared her a darkly amused smirk, and continued. "Actually, I have some rather pleasant news to deliver. It seems that you will be taking a bit of a trip -- you may even have the honor of meeting the Führer in person."
Her heart rate sped up ever so slightly as fear gripped her, his words -- delivered in mock pleasantness -- chilling her to the bone. "You're taking me to Berlin?" she murmured hesitantly, but Kouga only smiled once more.
"You'll have to be cleaned up, of course," he said offhandedly. "You can't be presented to the Führer in such a state. Someone will be down to assist you momentarily." He gave her one last smirk, and then he was gone, sweeping out the door and shutting it behind him with a resounding ring and click of the lock sliding back into place.
In the early hours of the morning, long before the first rays of sunlight would begin to broach the horizon, sorrow hung like a cloud over the Cafe de l'Asile, where two figures sat hand in hand at one of the wooden tables in the silent room. Inuyasha had long since drunken himself into a heavy, alcohol-induced sleep, never once having moved from his haunt at the back of the restaurant. But Sango and Miroku had opted instead to take a more practical approach to the situation, if indeed more difficult.
The brown-haired woman stared unseeingly into space, feeling drained and tired, yet unable to sleep. Her tears were all but spent, she and Miroku having passed the hours of the night talking, trying to find some semblance of peace, some measure of acceptance. Sango, having been closer to Kagome, for they had known each other since childhood, naturally took the news harder than did Miroku, but he had offered her all the comfort he had to give, and she was grateful.
But after the initial shock had worn off, both of them had begun to realize that their troubles were far from over. Grief aside, there were other issues much more pertinent to the immediate future that they would have to consider.
Miroku squeezed Sango's hand gently to draw her attention to him, saying gravely, "You know we can't stay here."
She nodded absently and murmured, "Yes -- I know. I know..."
He hesitated slightly, not wishing to burden her any more than necessary, but asked gently, "How long will it take you to close things up here? We'll most likely never be able to return, but nonetheless, we can't afford to leave them any evidence of our operation that might lead them to others."
Again she nodded, still a bit disconnected but making a visible effort to concentrate. There were still things to be taken care of. "Not long," she replied dully. "If you help me it can be done in an hour or so."
"Good, because I don't think we're going to have much more than that. The sun has already begun to rise."
"What about Inuyasha?"
The man glanced toward the hanyou in question with an expression of thought and sighed. "Hopefully he'll have sobered up enough to move by then. With his hanyou physiology he should have processed most of the alcohol by now -- I only hope he'll be reasonable enough to pull himself together and come with us. If he refuses, we won't be able to waste time waiting for him to change his mind."
"He'll come," Sango assured him, but Miroku still retained a look of skepticism.
Sango moved skillfully about her room, emptying secret compartments of their contents into a pile upon her bed. Everything had to go -- there was no time for sentimentality or nostalgia. All items that contained so much as a hint of their activities would be burned, and the rest -- all her clothes, her books, letters from friends long gone, her entire life to this moment -- would be left behind to be ravished by the soldiers who would undoubtedly arrive to scour the place in but a few hours' time. She could not afford to lend precious time to regret and mourning for the life she was abandoning, for it must no longer be hers. There was no other way.
She did the same to all the other rooms, all their hiding places having been long since burned into her memory, for they had all known that this day might eventually come, and they had to be ready to deal with it as swiftly as possible -- methodically, like clockwork. But when she reached Kagome's room she came across an object that gave her a moment's pause: Kagome's old diary. It was simply lying out upon the dresser, and would doubtless have escaped the notice of anyone who didn't know what it was, but Sango did know, and thus it stood out like the red of blood over green grass.
Gingerly she lifted the object to run her fingers over the scarred leather binding. Within this volume was the life and soul of the friend she had grown up with, all that she had been up until the time of Hojo's death, the time when the world had grown cold with hate and life had become like a web of lies and deceit; when life's goal of happiness had been replaced by the goal of mere survival.
It was a past that paralleled the one she too was leaving behind her. But she, unlike Kagome, still had her future to create. For Kagome, all that she was or would ever be allowed to be was her past. Could she, Sango, abandon her friend's past to the Nazis to be maimed and defiled, just as they had stolen her future?
No, she could not. At the very least she would be able to bury it, lay her friend to rest properly, as the Nazis would not allow her to. And with that decision she secured the small leather book within the waistband of her black leggings, beneath the edge of the dark turtle necked sweater, concealed from view.
Miroku glanced up as Sango appeared from the stairwell, dusting her hands to rid them of the soot from the upstairs fireplace. He offered her an encouraging if somewhat strained smile, knowing that this was most likely the most difficult thing she'd ever had to do. She returned the smile as best she could, then glanced about curiously.
"Where's Inuyasha?" she questioned.
"In the back, splashing some water on his face. He'll be ready to leave any minute. I've taken care of everything on this floor -- are you finished upstairs?"
She nodded.
"Good. Sango," he crossed the room and took hold of her shoulders, meeting her eyes solemnly, "...I have to go."
A startled frown appeared in her eyes at that. "What? Where?"
"My contact has to be informed that we won't be around anymore, but I'll catch up to you, I promise."
"But you've got to get out of here," she insisted. "The Nazis know your face for certain -- you're the one most at risk here, especially since you're a civilian! Tell me where to find him -- I'll go instead."
He shook his head firmly. "I can't do that. It's dangerous, and I will not have you taking that risk."
"Don't act like I'm some fragile child who can't take care of herself, Miroku. I'm just as experienced as-"
"It's not just that -- I'm the only one authorized to make contact. If you were to show up out of the blue they'd think you were a spy or something. Things are done this way for a reason, alright? It's my responsibility, and I'm going to take care of it."
Her eyes fell to his chest as he finished and she released a breath in defeat. He was right, and she knew it. "I'm just worried about you," she whispered voice thick with unshed tears, and he drew her comfortably against his chest as she wound her arms around his waist in return. "I lost you once already, and I'm scared to death of losing you forever -- can you blame me?"
"I know," Miroku replied quietly, swaying back and forth ever so slightly as he savored her warmth. "But you won't lose me -- I promise you that."
"That's a promise you'd better keep. If you don't, I'll never forgive you."
"I'll keep it -- god help the man who incurs the wrath of Sango," he said with a shadow of his usual wry humor, and she gave a small smile against his shoulder, drawing herself a bit closer.
Pulling back slightly, Miroku put a hand gently to Sango's cheek and pressed his lips to hers. Her hands grasped the back of his shirt as she melted into the sweetness and comfort of his embrace, telling herself that they would be together again soon enough. At long last they broke apart and looked into each other's eyes, their respective expressions conveying their feelings more accurately than words could ever manage.
"Be careful," Sango murmured, and he nodded.
"You too; I'll see you soon."
"I know." And with that he released her from his arms, her hand trailing reluctantly down his arm as he stepped away and crossed swiftly to disappear out into the night.
Behind her the silver-haired hanyou observed the scene in silence, his normally vivid eyes dull, deprived of their luster, his countenance somehow diminished and mildly dark. Despite his efforts to block it out, the image called to mind a similar farewell that had taken place not so long ago.
He looked back at her intensely. Slowly, without even thinking, he slid his arm around her waist and drew her closer. Her eyes drifted shut as she succumbed to him without resistance, letting him capture her lips in a gentle kiss. She wound her arms around his neck, unable to hold back the tears any longer as she pressed closer to him, deepening the embrace.
He could feel the wetness of her tears on his own cheeks, taste the salt of them on her lips even as he tasted her for the first and last time. They both knew that in a war-torn world people came and went like the seasons, and each, for his or her own reasons, knew they would never see the other again. This kiss, first and last, was filled with goodbye.
When finally their lips parted, Inuyasha looked into hazel eyes full of a pain that he didn't quite understand. He gently wiped away her tears with his thumb, kissed her lightly one last time, and turned to go...
His eyes slid closed. At least I got the chance to see her once more, he thought. Even that was no more than borrowed time. I have to let her go...
Sango's quiet yet determined voice stirred him from his musings. "Come on, Inuyasha. We've got to get going."
Kagome walked serenely down the long carpeted corridor, allowing the soldier at her elbow to guide her without complaint. She had been allowed to shower and tend to the wounds she had incurred while in captivity, and she had been given a fine skirt suit of dark material, heels, and even a pair of nylons -- a rarity in times of war, as the material was essential to the making of more belligerent commodities. Her ebony hair had been carefully combed and pinned into a stylish yet comfortable and functional arrangement that rested low on the back of her head, near the nape of her neck. In fact, they had even gone so far as to mask her bruises with make up -- they were barely visible now, unless you knew where to look. It was apparent that the purpose of all this was not simply to make her presentable; however, exactly what that purpose was Kagome couldn't guess.
They reached a large polished wooden door and the soldier brought her to a halt before it, rapping sharply upon the smooth surface with his knuckles.
"Come," answered a voice from within, and the soldier did as ordered, opening the door and guiding her inside. Upon entry she found herself in a large, finely furnished office, and in it's center, at the back of a couch that faced a fireplace, stood Kouga.
His cold green eyes regarded her with the spite that she had become accustomed to since his discovery of her betrayal, and she met his gaze placidly, waiting calmly for whatever explanation he had summoned her to receive. But to her surprise, Kouga said nothing. Instead he turned away in the direction of the fireplace and addressed a tall officer who stood at the edge of the mantle, partially hidden in shadows such that she had failed to notice him when she had first come in.
"She has arrived, General," the wolf-demon said in a businesslike tone of voice, and the tall dark-haired man turned slowly to observe her in a manner of appraisal. His countenance was so imposing and quietly frightening that Kagome marveled that she had failed to notice him in the first place -- and yet perhaps that was what was most frightening about him: that apparent ability to fade into the background even as he stood mere feet in front of her. This could be none other than General Naraku.
"Very well, that should do," the man said at last in a voice that chilled Kagome to the bone.
"Indeed," drawled a female voice from further in the shadows, and yet another figure whose presence Kagome had failed to notice appeared. But that matter was immediately pushed from her mind as she took in the appearance of the other woman in shock. "She my exact duplicate," Kikyo continued, her eyes sweeping Kagome's form critically as well. "The plan should go off without so much as a hitch, assuming that this wolf's men don't make any asinine blunders."
"My men are perfectly capable, I assure you," the aforementioned wolf growled in barely restrained annoyance, but he was ignored nonetheless.
At last Kagome resolved to speak, employing all her skills at cool-headedness to keep her voice even and strong. "Just what do you plan to do with me, exactly?"
"That is not your concern," Naraku replied. "If you do as you are told and cooperate with the officers I can guarantee that your death, when it comes, will be swift and painless. If you do not, I cannot make such a promise. That is all you need to know for the moment -- the rest will be revealed to you when and if I see fit. Is that clear?"
All she could manage was a nod.
Keeping to the shadows and listening carefully to avoid the occasional sentry passing on his nightly patrol of the village streets, Miroku made his way stealthily toward the familiar alleyway. He kept watch over is shoulder as he slipped into the close and approached an old wooden door about halfway along, knocking upon it in a quiet yet distinct pattern. Moments later the door opened a crack to reveal a watchful eye peering out at him. Then the eye widened in relieved recognition and the door was opened further as a hand promptly dragged him into the dark room beyond and shut the door behind him.
No sooner was he inside than a pair of arms was thrown around his neck, squeezing him so tightly he wondered that he could still breathe. Having expected as much, he merely returned the embrace, though perhaps not as fiercely.
"I thought you were dead," choked a small somewhat muffled voice from somewhere near his ear. "They told us you had been killed -- I was so afraid..."
"I'm sorry," he murmured in reply, holding the woman comfortingly. "I didn't mean to worry you, Koharu, but I had no way of contacting anyone. I was shot and left for dead, but fortunately I managed to survive the wound."
Her arms tightened a bit and he could smell the salt of tears, which only served to make him feel that much more guilty for what he was about to do. "Look," he began, gently trying to pry her arms from around his neck so that he could look her in the face. Reluctantly she released him and gazed searchingly up into his eyes, unabashed at the tears staining her cheeks.
"What is it?" she questioned. "What ever it is, we can get through it -- we're together again."
The utterly naive hopefulness in her words made him feel like absolute pond scum, but he resisted the urge to sigh heavily and drop his head into his hands, instead steeling himself to deliver the bad news. "I'm afraid it's not going to work out that way, Koharu. I have to leave town immediately, and it doesn't look like I'm going to be able to come back."
Pain flooded her eyes. "But...but you're here, you just got back... I'll come with you, Miroku. There's nothing here for me; nothing but you. You're the only man I've ever loved -- the only man I've ever...you know..." her voice trailed off and her eyes dropped in mild embarrassment. Oh boy, did he know...
Shit -- could I possibly be any lower? he thought weakly. How can I tell this sweet, would-be-innocent-if-it-weren't-for-me, young girl that what happened between us all those months ago was no more than a severe lapse in judgment on my part? Gods, I've never regretted anything more than I regret that one night...and saying that would probably destroy her...
I've got to let her down as easily as possible -- it's the least I can do for what I did to her.
"Koharu, it just wasn't meant to be between us. My cover's been blown -- I can't stay here any longer, much less be of any use to the Resistance in Asile, but you...you still have work to do here. The cause needs you. It would be selfish of us to desert it now just for the sake of our happiness. I'll always treasure what we've shared, my darling Koharu, but I'm afraid there's no other choice. It's time to say goodbye."
Tears had begun to stream freely down her face and her lower lip quivered slightly. "No," she pleaded, "I can't let you go -- I just can't."
"You must. And when the day comes that the war is over and the world begins to be rebuilt, promise me that you will not cling to my memory. You still have a long life to live, and I know that one day you'll find someone who'll be able to make you happier than I ever could."
"No -- I'll always love you. I can't imagine being with anyone else," she said, throwing her arms around his neck once more and burying her sobs in his shoulder.
Miroku couldn't quite suppress a helpless roll of his eyes at that. Jesus, she sure isn't making this any easier for me, is she...
"Please, don't cry," he soothed, adding more to himself than to her, "I'm not worth it..."
At long last she managed to pull herself together, sniffling and swiping at her tears, and she straightened with determination. "I...I understand why you have to go," she admitted reluctantly, "And you're right -- it would be selfish of us to run away, but...but Miroku, before you leave, would you at least kiss me one last time?"
He hesitated only slightly, thinking, Sorry Sango...you'd understand, wouldn't you, under the circumstances? before taking her in his arms and giving her the sweetest, gentlest kiss he could muster. She surprised him slightly by opening her mouth just a bit to deepen the embrace, turning it more passionate, but he indulged her whims thinking that it couldn't possibly do any harm at this point.
Finally she broke away and abruptly turned her back to him. "Go," she said quietly, "before I lose the strength to let you."
He gave her a sad sort of smile, admiring her courage, and did as she bade.
Across town a young, dark-haired woman was escorted along the stone walk at the front of Kouga's villa to a well-polished black car waiting at the circular driveway. One of the soldiers in her 'escort' stepped into the vehicle, motioning for her to follow, and then she was followed by the second. Finally, The General stepped up to the open door of the car and bent slightly to peer in at her.
"Remember, you are to do exactly as you are told, lest you should meet an untimely and unpleasant demise. Is that understood, 'Kikyo'?" he asked, putting the slightest emphasis on the final word.
Kagome nodded solemnly, only her eyes betraying her hatred for the man before her.
"Good." And with that he slammed the door shut and motioned to the driver to be on his way. Then, turning slowly back to reenter the house, he glanced up to one of the windows on the second floor to see Kikyo gazing down at him, a shrewd smile on her face. His lips curved slightly in return.
A/N: See?! She's not dead!! Man, I've been itching to yell that out the whole time I was writing the review replies, but I didn't want to disrupt the flow of the chapter. Although most of you knew, or at least suspected, that she was alive – but nonetheless...
Anyway, not to toot my own horn, but there are a couple of scenes in this chappie that I really like. Then again there's a little section near the middle where I can hear myself starting to BS – that's about where I got stuck. But we won't talk about that... (--grin--)
So, opinions anyone?
P.S. While writing the Koharu scene I kept accidentally typing 'Kohaku' instead...now that would be a twist...(lol)
P.P.S. Quick edit is getting on my nerves...grr... Can't it just make up it's mind for once? (--sigh--)