...OOO...
One night around late January, the concierge handed Sesshomaru his daily mail when he was on his way upstairs to his apartment after work.
On the very top was an envelope thin and white with Kikyo's name and address written in his handwriting underneath the stamp. Over it in red ink, a decidedly feminine but unfamiliar hand had scribbled Return to sender. Recipient no longer lives here.
No longer lives here...
He stood there for several minutes just staring at the words in bewilderment. It took a long time for their apparent meaning to become clear.
No longer lives here.
Kikyo had moved? But when? And why didn't she at least let him know?
Because she's no longer obligated to, a voice inside his head spoke reasonably. She was no longer his wife, and he was no longer her husband. For all purposes, he wasn't even supposed to care whether she stayed or went or did anything else for that matter.
So why did he?
Sesshomaru couldn't answer the question without admitting to himself that, even after all this time, he still cared about her. About how she was doing. Convenient or not, he just had to know.
The next day he called her lawyer on the pretense that he had come across something of hers and wanted to know where he could return it, but her attorney told him that she hadn't heard from Kikyo since the finalization of their divorce. The only address she had was the same one as was written on the returned envelope.
For several days after, Sesshomaru tried to let the matter go.
It really was none of his business after all, he tried to convince himself without much success. But he didn't care whether it was his business anymore or not. She couldn't just decide to disappear without letting him know. She just couldn't. Even if their marriage had been an utter failure, he thought he at least deserved that much from her. How could she not think he wouldn't care enough to know?
At the end of the week, he finally picked up the phone and dialed her number. It rang a couple of times before a series of beeps clicked on the other line.
"I'm sorry," the automated operator apologized, "but the number you have dialed has been disconnected."
The announcement baffled Sesshomaru further. Disconnected? Why was it disconnected? Who had disconnected it? It didn't make any sense. Why the hell was she doing this to him?
Angrily he threw his coat on, went downstairs, hopped into his car, and sped all the way to the only place he could think to look for her- the art gallery where he last heard she worked.
Not bothering to park correctly or turn off the ignition, he jumped out and slammed the door shut. Striding purposely inside, he scanned the room quickly but saw no sign of his delinquent wife.
"Is Kikyo in?" he asked the girl behind the greeter's stand gruffly.
She looked up startled but didn't have time to answer as a voice behind Sesshomaru echoed, "Kikyo?"
Sesshomaru whirled around to see Naraku giving him a quizzical glance.
"Where is she?" he demanded coldly.
With a shrug Naraku simply replied, "Shouldn't you know better than me? Kikyo stopped coming to work almost a month ago. Didn't even bother to call to say she quit." Honestly he hadn't thought much of it. Naraku had merely assumed Sesshomaru had come back to his senses, dragged her back home, and locked her up in the cellar somewhere.
"Having a little lovers' spat?" Naraku sneered, unable to help but feel a little pleased that Sesshomaru should think Kikyo would come to him when they had an argument.
Sesshomaru, however, didn't bother to respond before hurriedly leaving the building and got back into his car, ready to drive on to the next person who might know her whereabouts. But he didn't move. He didn't know where else to look, who else to go to for information. Kikyo never had any close friends, not even from before they were married. She had always pretty much kept to herself.
Taking a deep breath, he tried to slow his racing thoughts and analyze the situation logically.
In the span of one month since he had sent the last check, Kikyo had quit her job, cut off her phone, and changed her address- all without telling a single soul. Without leaving so much as a hint for him to trace should he have the need to contact her.
The conclusion was obvious, but it left him not knowing quite what to feel. Angry? Relieved? Indifferent?
How was one supposed to react when the person he had once called his wife had finally gone and severed the last of their connections to one another?
At last she had finally freed herself from him completely. At last she had done what he had refused to do- cut off whatever had remained of their life together in one fell swoop, nothing wavering, never hesitating. It was so like Kikyo to do so.
And here he was, chasing after her like some idiot dog. How she would mock him if she knew. After all, he was the one who had suggested the divorce. He was the one who had pushed her to leave. She was only obeying his wishes.
Still sitting behind the wheel of his stalled vehicle, Sesshomaru let out a weary sigh and ran a hand through his hair.
He wasn't supposed to be a person who regretted things, and he tried to tell himself that she was right in doing what she did. There was nothing left of their relationship. They were standing on opposite sides of a deep gorge- why torture themselves with bridges that were too thin, too flimsy to cross, and went nowhere anyway? It was better to just burn them all, move on, and never look back.
Never look back. He had never been one to do so before, so why should he this time around? Anyway, there was nothing there for him to look back to. Kikyo had long ago vanished from sight. Maybe she was the stronger of the two after all. Or at least the smarter.
Shifting the car into drive, Sesshomaru eased his foot on the gas pedal and went home.
That very afternoon he called a real estate agency to put their house in the suburbs- the very symbol of their failed life together- up for sale along with the summer home they had kept by the ocean.
They had been driving through the area once, and she had spotted the house almost floating on the surf, and fell in love with it. Right away he had marched up to the door, spoke to the current owner, made him an offer he couldn't refuse, and bought the entire property on the spot. Like everything else, it was a gift to her, but in the end none of his offerings were ever enough to keep her beside him. There was something more she wanted, something he didn't understand and didn't know how to give.
Now all he could do was follow her rational example.
Burn the bridges.
Never look back.
Sesshomaru was sick of looking back.
...ooo...
The dry winter faded into a cold, wet, rainy spring.
It was early noon, but the skies were already dark, thick with grey clouds just waiting to unburden themselves on to an already waterlogged city.
Sesshomaru entered the restaurant packed full with the lunch crowd.
"Sesshomaru." He heard his name called.
Tracing the voice across the room, his eyes came to rest upon a smiling woman, face flawlessly made, dark haired and bright –eyed wearing a low cut, sleeveless blouse over a Chanel skirt, the matching suit jacket slung over the back of her chair, Prada pumps, and a diamond tennis bracelet. She waved him over.
"Did you find this place ok?" she asked while sipping the bubbling champagne she had already had brought over.
Taking a seat across from her, he gave a small nod and answered, "Yes. Am I late?"
"Oh no, no," she quickly answered. "Not at all. I was just early, but I'm glad you came. I must say I'm quite surprised you finally accepted my invitation to lunch- and just when I was thinking about giving up on you." She flashed him a red lipsticked smile, slow and seductive.
"Not at all," he replied coolly. He rather liked her avid persistence.
The waiter came and they ordered lunch, chatting mostly about office affairs and the state of the economy while they waited for it to arrive. She was never short on words, an easy conversationalist. He found it a refreshing change of pace and wondered why it had taken him so long to take up her offer.
About ten minutes into their lunch date, his cell phone rang and he reached into his pocket to turn it off, but he glanced down briefly at the screen to see who was calling. He frowned, not recognizing the number. It continued to ring.
"Who is it?" she asked unconcernedly, readily forgiving him for such a breach in etiquette.
He read her the number as the phone rang for the sixth time in his hand, showing no sign of relenting.
Shrugging delicately, she sipped more champagne and told him, "Go ahead and answer it. It might be important."
"I won't be long," he promised, flipping the phone open. "Hello?"
Her voice sounded tiny and far away, "Sesshomaru?"
He almost lost his breath. It was nearly a year since he last heard that voice, but there was no mistaking it.
"Kikyo?" he replied bewilderedly, once again at a loss as to the appropriate reaction.
"I want to go home," she choked, her words coming out strained and exhausted but decidedly free from tears, sober. "They won't let me go. I'm so tired... please help me."
"Kikyo?" he repeated, no longer sure. He had never heard her speak like that before. "Kikyo, where are you?"
There was a small gasp on the other line, and he could imagine her eyes growing wide at catching herself doing something so unlike her.
"I'm sorry," she apologized in a rushed whisper. "So sorry..." The line went dead.
"Who was it?" his companion asked across from him, the first lines of displeasure etching their way across her forehead.
Still staring at the phone, Sesshomaru couldn't answer. His mind was running too fast, trying to interpret the meaning of it all.
What the hell was Kikyo thinking calling him after so long, just as he was finally starting to forget? Did she just expect him to come running at her every beck and call? To jump to her aid after refusing to take it when he had actually wanted to?
Who the hell did she think she was to intrude and interrupt his life when she didn't want to partake in it in the first place? an angry voice inside of him demanded angrily. Why should he go to her now simply because it had suddenly become convenient for her?
But her voice... In his mind it echoed, overpowering his anger.
"I'm so tired... please help me."
It must have been the same tone in which doomed men implored desperate prayers of salvation from an indifferent god.
Would he be the same to her? a more reasonable voice asked quietly. Could he be the same? Could he really deny her even as she pleaded for him on her knees? Would he really stand by on dry land and do nothing as she drowned in some cruel, merciless ocean?
"...help me."
Hurriedly, Sesshomaru pushed himself to his feet.
"Where are you going?" the woman across from him interrogated in aggravation- a woman he could no longer recognize.
Shaking his head, Sesshomaru left without explanation, dodging past bodies without faces as he made his way out of the restaurant and into the car, peeling out of the parking lot, leaving a short trail of burned rubber on the black asphalt.
His wife needed him.
Tracing the number to a mental health hospital across the city, Sesshomaru sped down trafficked streets, anxious to know what Kikyo was doing in such a place. He pulled up right beside the entrance and marched inside.
"I'm here to see my wife," he announced to the receptionist.
"Patient's name?"
"Kikyo..." For a second Sesshomaru paused unsure whether or not she had reverted back to her maiden name, but at last he gave her his own.
The receptionist frowned when she pulled up Kikyo's file on the computer.
"I'm sorry, but she's under special restrictions. Only immediate family members may visit."
"She's my wife," he nearly growled. How much more immediate could they be?
She bit her lower lip nervously, "I'm sorry, but Ms. Taisho isn't registered as married... are you sure you have the right person?"
Fixing her with an icy stare, he reiterated, "Where. Is. She?" His patience was running very, very thin.
"I'm sorry," she repeated. "But I can't divulge that information."
"What's going on here?" another woman questioned, stepping out of an office behind the counter. She had short blonde hair and was dressed in the white lab coat of a doctor. Her name tag identified her as Dr. Michiko Ikari.
"Ah, this is Mr. Taisho to see Kikyo Taisho..." the receptionist stammered.
Nodding understanding, Dr. Ikari announced calmly, "I'm sorry, but only immediate family is allowed to visit the patient. You have no legal standing as an ex-husband."
At last Sesshomaru had had it.
"My wife called me here, and I intend to see her," he stated with slow deliberation, uncompromising. "Now. Either you take me to her, or I can tear this building down brick by brick and find her myself."
Dr. Ikari studied him cooly, measuring the level of his seriousness, then nodded. Sesshomaru met her stare squarely, just daring her to refuse again.
"Alright," she agreed.
Down several hallways she lead him until they came to the psychotherapy ward.
"Did she tell you why she was admitted?" the doctor asked curiously.
"We didn't speak long." Sesshomaru had no desire to discuss Kikyo with this hard looking woman.
"Then perhaps you should ask her."
Without saying anymore, they came to a patient room, and she opened it up.
Kikyo was sitting up in the narrow hospital bed, her head turned away to the opposite window, staring out into the cold gray world outside. At the sound of their entrance, she glanced over.
She was thinner than ever, her skin too pale, her eyes dull and empty. He had never seen her look so frail before. Was this really his wife?
"Sesshomaru?" Confusion flitted in her eyes, surprised at his appearance. Her voice erased the last of his doubts.
Pushing past the doctor, Sesshomaru strode over to her wordlessly, took off his jacket, and wrapped it around her shoulders.
"Where are your shoes?" he inquired, glancing around for them.
"I don't..." She didn't understand what was happening.
Dismissing his own words, he answered brusquely, "Never mind." and lifted her into his arms.
"What do you think you're doing?" Dr. Ikari demanded still standing beside the entrance.
Sesshomaru turned his cold glare to her, "I'm taking her home. My attorney will contact you shortly about the legal ramifications of withholding a person against their will."
"What? You can't..." She moved to block the door, but Sesshomaru easily brushed her aside.
"Someone will return for her belongings," he told her without slowing his gait.
He carried Kikyo out of the hospital and deposited her into the passenger seat of his car before sliding in behind the wheel himself. For an entire minute neither spoke or made a movement.
Finally Kikyo said, "I didn't think you'd come."
"Then why did you call me?" he wanted to know.
Turning away, she replied, "They wouldn't release me except in the care of a family member. They gave me the phone and told me to notify someone... I didn't know who else to call."
Sesshomaru didn't answer. Kikyo had no parents, no siblings, aunts or uncles. No cousins to speak of. He had been her only family. At least, before the divorce.
"I'm sorry to have bothered you," she murmured, still not looking at him.
He didn't know how to respond. He wanted to lie and tell her it was no problem, that he had been glad to come. But the words wouldn't form themselves. How could he honestly tell her he was glad to see her in such a state? What kind of husband rejoiced in the suffering of his wife?
Instead he asked quietly, "How long have you been here?"
"A little over two weeks," she answered just as softly. "After I was transferred from the general hospital."
Sesshomaru couldn't bring himself to ask the reason why she was admitted in the first place. To see her like this... it was too much.
Two weeks... two weeks of no one knowing where she was, of no one knowing whether she was ok, of whether she was even alive.
For the first time since he knew her, Sesshomaru understood her loneliness, and it scared him. It scared him to realize just how easily she could be lost not only from him, but from the entire world. She could have disappeared, vanished into thin air and no one would ever have known. No one would have cared.
He had always thought she was drifting- drifting away from him, drifting away from everyone, from life. Why didn't he see sooner it was because she had nothing to anchor herself to? Why couldn't he have just held on a little tighter?
Turning on the ignition, he rolled the car out of the parking lot and onto the street.
"Where do you want me to take you?"
Kikyo glanced out the window, brought a hand to her mouth to stop herself from breaking down. She just wanted to go home, but she couldn't even tell where that was, had ever been. How did she get to be so lost like this? she asked herself.
Out loud she whispered, "I don't know anymore..."
"I want to go home."
Sesshomaru took her to the only home he could think of.
...OOO...
Ok, I know I said three chapters, but I ran out of time again to finish, so there'll be a fourth. Possibly a fifth. Sorry. :sweatdrop: