Hello! I'm back. I think this is the longest I went I away for a while now. I had ALMOST finished this chapter in October but then the busier part of the year started and I started drowning in homework. But the good news is that now I have my diploma! Go me! I think I'm gonna cry. Course now I have to start looking for a job. (Sweat-drop) I'm officially becoming an adult. How frightening is that? Anyway, enough about my life!

A/N: Who's been waiting for a lemon? (Smiles) Well, if you're reading this on FFNet you're not gettin' any! But on MEDIA MINER on the other hand... (coughs) and if for some reason you can't or won't go there, e-mail me and I'll ask you if you're 18 and then send it to you. (Smiles) I've got about two more chapters to go, so we're almost done with this third of the trilogy.

My hundredth reviewer will get a minor character named after him/her or be able to create a minor character of their own for use in the sequel.

WARNING: This chapter contains implied adult consensual content. If you are uncomfortable with such situations, do not read.

Chapter 12: The Spaces Between Fingers
Exhausted and spent the duo savored several heaving moments on solid ground.

"So..." Miroku dragged himself to sit up. "You can't swim well." There was a note of accusation in his voice.

Sango was crouched over, coughing up muddy water that had clogged her throat. "Wh-" She took a few shallow breaths, followed by a fit of coughing that broke up her words. "Where was I gonna cough learn?" She did her best to glare while struggling to breathe.

Miroku's face softened immediately. "I didn't mean it, Sango." A pause issued between them and Miroku exhaled, long and slow. He pushed himself to stand, reaching out to help a still winded Sango and lead her up a ramp that turned around the cliff side and into a tunnel.

Miroku ushered the soaked woman inside. "Welcome to Cliffside Shelter." The location was spiritually fortified by three different charms dangled from the entryway, as well as four sutras, two on each side of the cave mouth. Inside was a very large chest covered in sand and dust. Immediately next to that was a water catcher that led outside and next to that was a large pile of buckets and basins. Finally, in the farthest corner was a thin layer of wool sewn between two pieces of worn cloth, which imitated the appearance of bedding.

Sango raised a sardonic eyebrow. "You mean all of the shelters have names?"

Miroku grinned. "No. But given that it's home for the moment I felt it deserved a title." He dragged his waterlogged body over to the trunk and dug through it. He held out some dried food. "Something to eat, to get back up your strength... And you should change out of those wet clothes."

The crimson on her face grew deeper and deeper as the words sunk in. She started to resemble a tomato when Miroku removed his robe and shirt, leaving the monk in just a black pair of tight wet pants. He leaned over into the chest. Then back upright. She could see his muscles bunch and ripple as he walked closer, step by powerful step.

The whole time she just stood there staring. Numbly, she felt soft lace and silk land in her arms. "You can wear this. I don't know how well it will fit. I believe it was Kagome's." Miroku turned back to the chest, glad he'd found something for her to wear. "Don't worry. I won't peek, Sango."

Sango held the garment out at arms' length and blanched. The outfit in question looked as though even Kagome may have had difficulty fitting into it and made Sango seriously question what the young priestess had been doing in this cave in such apparel.

It was white in two pieces made of a very fine, very thin silk. The bottom half was a loose pair of pants that barely came to the knee where the end was ruffled with lace. The top part was bared at the shoulders and dipped low in the back. The middle was mostly lace and, Sango was sure, on her it would leave about an inch of her stomach bare.

The huntress grimaced. "I don't suppose there's anything else to wear that's a little more..."

While she fumbled for a word to suit her needs Miroku bit back the snicker in his throat, reminding himself that he needed to behave. "If I had such, I'd drape you in the finest silk. Sadly, this is all that is here and dry. And it's lucky to find this much. I won't peek while you change. I promise. Please try to endure for the moment, Sango."

She sighed, steadying her nerves. She could do this. It was no big deal. It was just clothing… clothing that was practically see-through... Besides, she had Miroku's word he wouldn't look. She just had to put it on and warm up. And if Miroku tried anything… Well, she'd just kill him.

His back turned and with a deep breath Sango changed into the delicate fabric. "Okay." Sango crossed her arms in front of her, trying to cover as much skin as possible.

Miroku turned around and leered down at her, his grin growing bit by bit more devious. Sango glowered, "Stop it RIGHT now, Miroku!" He stepped closer to her. "I swear! Keep it up and I'll rip off your—eh?" Much warmer, much heavier material than the garb she wore fluttered around her, resting on her arms.

For the first time, Sango saw the smiling lecherous monk's face for the mask it was. The one he wore so tightly it was almost his real face. But it had slipped around the edges and she saw how his smile did not meet his eyes. "It's the only blanket. But I think you need it most." He handed her some of the rations, keeping some for himself, and sat down at the far wall.

Sango's heart thrummed in her chest as the blood suddenly raced to her cheeks. Her rational mind said it was just the blanket but a little voice whispered to her it had less to do with what was around her shoulders and more to do with the man that had put it there. That, and the secret of his that xshe had found.

Miroku managed to find some dry kindling and tried to get a fire going but couldn't. His hands were too numb to make a spark. Miroku sighed to himself. Things between them had gotten all tangled up. How he felt about her, his life, hers... There was no way to fix it now. He'd done way too much damage.

He tried not to think about it, deciding that it wasn't possible to make her understand just because it was what he wanted most. If he tried to fix things any more he'd just make it worse. He could understand her distaste of him and endure her loathing. As long as he could have a corner of her life to be a part of and watch over it didn't matter.

Besides, it was all moot if they froze to death.

He hadn't noticed he'd been shivering. Not until the blanket brushed his back. Not until the hand left his shoulder and he felt soft wet hair lay across his skin. Not until his violet eyes met soft brown.

"Don't read into this," she whispered. It was hard not to when he could see the blush on her cheeks spread to her nose. "I... I was still too cold alone."

Miroku merely nodded. She was doing this for him.

Sango rested her head on his shoulder and scooted closer. It made him want to hold her tight. "It'll get warm soon. Then we won't have to be so close." He gave her his most devilish smile waggling his eyebrows at her. "Unless you want to."

She rolled her eyes. "Jerk," she muttered half-heartedly.

The silence that followed was both comfortable and awkward. Miroku tried to ignore how close Sango was. How nice she felt. How good she smelled. And when he'd realized he'd been thinking about not thinking about her for about ten minutes, he tried thinking of anything else. That's why when he put his hand around her waist and pulled her closer, it was at a more unconscious level.

Her soft sigh at his fingers' delicate graze pulled at his attention enough to make him notice her, albeit not what he was doing. She really was cold to the touch, so he ran his fingers up and down her arm. 'To warm her up,' he frequently reminded himself.

After a while, Sango seemed to fall asleep, or at least relax. His hand went to her back, where there were so many scars.

His fingers traced one and she jumped, suddenly stiff as a board. "Don't." She licked her lips. "I don't like that."

"They're just scars. I have a few myself." He put his hand on hers.

"No. I... They—" She frowned. "Why would you want someone like me? I mean. These scars are all over my back. And really all over my body. It's not very feminine." Sango curled up, trying to hide in her part of the blanket, suddenly more self-conscious then she had been in years. "And it's more than that. My hands are calloused. I can't cook. I like to fight. I can't even really swim. I'm not graceful. I'm...different."

She looked up at him, eyes sharp and face hard. "So if it's just about a challenge then I promise I'm not worth it." The last word was choked, but it was the only one.

Miroku traced a strand of hair behind her ear, carefully considering what to say. Naraku had really destroyed her. He wanted to save her from that abyss but not for the reason she thought. So it was with care he proceeded. "If I ever saw a challenge in you I acknowledged a long time ago that I lost. Someone so strong... so spirited." He smiled. "And on the battlefield, so very graceful. I didn't stand a chance once I got to know who the woman was. And as for why I'd want you... because your hands are calloused from holding a sword. You're so strong and passionate when you fight. And yet, with such perfection of character, you still bleed and scar."

At this, he reached out to touch the large scar on her back, the one that had been made after her first night with him. "Beneath this strong fighter and amazing woman, there is still evidence that she's human and she hurts. I want to help that pain."

"Why?" She didn't face him.

"Because it's right. Because you've been there for so many others for so long. It's okay for someone to be there for you." He ran his knuckles along her cheek and down her neck.

"Miroku," she breathed out the word, turning to face him. Their noses were almost touching.

Maybe it was his idea. Maybe it was hers. Maybe the ground shook for a moment. But at any rate the space between them closed and two pairs of lips touched fleetingly.

After the initial shock of the kiss, followed by an almost overwhelming pleasure, Miroku pulled back half an inch. "I'm sorry." He wanted to kick himself. "Forgive me, that was most—" In the span of a minute, Miroku found himself dazed twice as Sango brazenly kissed him again.

She pulled back for a second. "Shut up, Miroku," was all she muttered before crashing her mouth against his.

Miroku nipped at her lower lip, their mouths mashing together. When they both came up for air he didn't let her have any room; instead, even though he was out of breath he planted feather-light kisses along her jaw, lightly scraping his teeth along her chin. The sound of her breath hitching in her throat was music to his ears. And then—

She cried out.

It wasn't really a cry; more like a sharp, needy, moan. Such a sound would have normally just spurred him on, but instead all he thought of was the last time he'd had her in this position. With every ounce of his self control, he tore himself away from the drug-induced haze that her lips brought on.

"Wait…wait. Sango." His eyes cracked open, trying to look her in the eye as he spoke, but it was much more physically painful than he imagined it would be. Her hair was disheveled and her lips were already swollen from his kisses. The blanket had been abandoned to the floor, letting him see every inch of her. He had to look away. "This isn't right. I did this." He could feel her curious, painful stare boring into his soul even without looking at her. "I'll be the first to admit I'm rather verbose, Sango. And I fear I've said my mind too well. You don't really want do this. You might think that but you're just charmed. I don't want you to feel tricked. That's why I can't."

He looked down, still not able to meet her gaze. He imagined she'd either yell at him or slap him any second now.

Her voice was a pronounced whisper when she said, "Miroku. I meant it when I said shut up."

He glanced up at her and saw the way she stared at him at that moment. Her eyes, in addition to being filled with the intense desire and determination they usually were, also asked him a question. 'Can you feel it too? This heat between us?' It was a fire that pulled them in, not to a flame but to each other. And whenever she tried to deny it, it hurt. And it was the same for him.

He hadn't seduced her into his arms. She already wanted him but was just too afraid to act. She wanted to trust him. She wanted to be with him. And tonight she was willing to forget that tomorrow he may forsake her. She just wanted to feel this.

Miroku watched her, assessing her candor. He could feel the nervousness stream off her in cold waves, freezing the heated blood in his veins and causing goose bumps to rise on his flesh.

He needed and wanted her to know this wasn't about want or need. The worst parts of her life had been spent watching family die and men betray her. He wouldn't be one of them. If it killed him he wouldn't be one of them.

She kissed him again and he pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. With well-learned fingers he explored every inch of her body, rubbing and testing every spot to bring her one delightful sensation after another.

He committed every place and its reaction to memory and then, when he was sure he knew what she liked, he removed every garment in his way to touching her bare skin.

He pulled back to look at her. "You look so beautiful," he whispered. "So amazing right now... a goddess…" and a thousand other amorous, unheard words of worship poured from his mouth until she was trembling. And he continued with his investigation of her form, all the while making sure she didn't feel the least bit confined or trapped, even as his hands came out to hold her tight against him. She saw the look in his eyes, almost fearful. He didn't want to hurt her. "Are you okay?"

She smiled at him. "Yes." And taking a page from his own book, she nipped at his shoulder and the crook of his neck. She swore she could hear him purr, like a big cat. He was trying to go easy on her, making her feel more than just comfortable but, in fact, elated.

And finally his pilgrim hands completed their quest to the holy land of Sango's body. Never before had Miroku been so enraptured while giving a woman such delights. She was a treat for the eyes and ears, and an overwhelming sense of pride flooded through him as he brought her higher and higher along.

She leaned against him, abandoning all mistrust and fear for that moment.

Her body really was a traitor, but she'd worry about that when she could think again. Right now all she could see, all she could feel, was this building bliss. Vaguely she wondered if this was how he felt most of the time – like dying while you're still alive.

Miroku leaned over her, catching her lips in a strong kiss.

And then without any warning Sango felt herself burst. She reached out for him, her only anchor, as she flew away to a place that was safe and warm. He watched her face, the changes, how sweet and soft she looked. It was the longest and shortest movement either of them had known. And when it was over, Sango became aware of her nails digging into his back and shoulder and quickly released them.

Sango looked up at the monk through complacent eyes, then closed them again, reaching up to nuzzle him under his neck. She could feel him smile down at her.

Rubbing an eye open she looked at him as he wrapped the blanket around her, curling her body against his so she could use him as a pillow. She looked down at him, where it was painfully obvious what he wanted and needed for himself. She looked up, confused, though the effect came off as more cute than anything else, considering how sleepy she was. "Miroku?"

"Shhh. You haven't slept in two days. Go to sleep, okay?" She nodded, snuggling against his chest, content with that answer. At the very least the fatigue that was slowly consuming her didn't make her feel like doing anything but sleeping at the moment.

Miroku lay there, unmoving a moment longer, attempting to settle down. He watched her fall asleep, aching yet thrilled. She was so beautiful. So amazing. And even though he knew he didn't deserve her, here she was, sleeping in his arms. He'd protect her. He'd give up everything for her. He wanted the rest of her life to be perfect, or as close to perfect as he could make it so long as he had a breath left in him. He—

He leaned closer to her sleeping form and whispered in her ear, "I love you." Smiling, he hugged her once more, then finally allowing his weary body to drift off to sweet slumber.

The next morning he awoke first. Sango had moved away from him a bit in sleep, and was now holding his cursed arm as her new pillow. He had to move the fingers to wake the hand back up. He smiled, pushing a stray hair from her face. She took a deep breath and her eyes fluttered.

Dimly the huntress was aware of his presence, so very close to her own. She tried to force herself back into consciousness, awake and alert thought, but by the time she had he had moved away.

Sango knew Miroku was giving her control over how they would proceed from here. She sat up and looked at him but he was already attending to their now only damp clothes.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Good morning."

Miroku smiled. "Clothes are... well, not dry, but better than nothing." He handed her her dress, kneeling down until his face was level with hers. "How are you?"

She licked her lips, forcing the blush from her cheeks. "I feel good." Her eyes widened, realizing how loaded that statement was. "I mean—!"

Miroku chuckled, daringly pressing his forehead against hers. "What do you want to do?" If anything her blush didn't abate, it just got worse. He leaned over to kiss her but she grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back.

"Just…wait. All right? It's a lot and… I can't—I don't—" She stared at her fingers, which kept wringing themselves together in odd weaves and tangles. Miroku put his hands over her own, letting her know he understood. "I'll let you know, okay?" She gave him a tiny apologetic smile.

"Sango... I understand." He really did. It surprised even him that his ego wasn't hurting from this slight rejection; he was just thrilled that she didn't say she wanted to act like it never happened. That just left one last question. "So... Do you still want to find the nearest village? Or..."

Sango tried her hardest to sigh and frown like she was upset but it didn't work. Not with him staring at her as if she had a knife at his chest that would kill him if she said no. "I suppose my best chance is to go back."

And temporarily disregarding the boundaries that had just been set, he scooped her up in his arms and gave her the biggest bear hug she'd ever received. Sango laughed. She imagined they were quite the sight to behold.

It had stopped raining sometime during the night. Miroku now knew the way back since Gravel's Drop was well known. On the walk he explained that it was cursed with a sadness of a one-sided battle.

Inu-Yasha was crouched on a rock near the entrance to the encampment when they arrived. He jumped down, right in front of Miroku. "Miroku! I gotta bone to pick with you." Inu-Yasha crossed his arms, eyes narrowing.

"Yes, Inu-Yasha?" Miroku looked like the cat that had caught the canary. He had never felt so contented in his life. Sango was back; nothing could hurt him at that moment.

Well, maybe nothing but Inu-Yasha's fist. The monk barely managed to dive under the razor sharp claws.

The half demon continued speaking as though he hadn't just tried to hit Miroku. "So where have ya been the last TWO DAMN DAYS?"

Miroku muttered under his breath about Kagome's pregnancy ph ases and their effects on Inu-Yasha's mood. "I was getting Sango." He directed with his hands at the woman in question, who just stared at them both with slight confusion.

"I see that. So what line didja use to sucker her back?" It made him mad. He understood Sango and the need to leave. She shouldn't have Miroku dragging her back, especially not with the pretty words he was so well known for using. Then a certain smell crossed his noise. He sniffed Sango and then Miroku. Well, at least she didn't seem hurt so Miroku hadn't done anything forceful... "What did ya do?" Inu-Yasha barked at Miroku. Sango was under his protection even if she wasn't in his care.

Miroku held his hands up in defense, suddenly slightly nervous. "Let me explain."

"Ya better." He frowned. "Sango. Kagome's been looking for you."

Sango imagined that was her cue to go but she didn't want to leave Miroku alone to face Inu-Yasha. She crossed her arms but before her protests could be voiced, Miroku turned to her. "It's all right. I'll be fine." He rubbed her shoulder, but she still didn't leave so he leaned in closer. "Don't make me kiss you." And without waiting to see if she left he leaned toward her, lips puckered.

"Pervert!" she screeched, slapping him across the cheek and backing away a few feet. Sango huffed off, but stopped to glance over her shoulder, smiling once and hurrying along.

Miroku clutched his stinging cheek, smiling a little smile to himself. Meanwhile, Inu-Yasha crossed his arms with a smug look, completely missing the little smiles that spoke volumes. "Feh. That's more like it. I knew Sango was smart enough to see straight through you."

Miroku patted the older man on the back. "Inu-Yasha. There is nothing you could possibly say or do to hurt me right now."

Inu-Yasha rotated his wrist. "Really? When's the last time we sparred?"

The color drained from Miroku's face.