::dusts cobwebs off of ff.net uploader:: It's been a while, hasn't it? In any case, I'm back, here's Chapter 15 (UNEDITED, mind you), enjoy the Misao/Aoshi entertainment, and leave a review if you feel like making an over-taxed author's day! ^_^

Disclaimer: When the world ends, the lawyers will be the first to go. I do not own Rurouni Kenshin; that amazing patent belongs to Nobuhiro Watsuki-san.

To the reviewers: I cannot thank you guys enough for pestering/encouraging me.
A/N: Because ff.net hates italics…

//…// denotes thoughts

Desert Rose
By Lady Calliope

Chapter 15: I Am Become Death

Before the sun had risen from its star blanketed bed, Kenshin was gripping the reigns of his horse as it galloped hotly across the barren land. The stallion's hooves were kicking up a swirling trail of sand as they raced towards the Kahaktrian Army's encampment. The need to know what these current events had to do with his long-dead friend fueled his veins with an energy he had never before possessed. And if Aoshi had something to do with the assassinations meant to frame Kaoru, there was all the more reason to urge his steed on at breakneck speed though this land of sand and darkness.

// Kaoru… //

The last thing he had wanted to do was leave her side during her recovery; it had taken every ounce of his will, as well as a good deal of physical force from Sozou, for him to mount his ride and head west. But if this would help to clear Kaoru's name of treason, then he would sacrifice a few precious hours for her sake. As long as the real assassin was still at large, she could not re-enter the gates of Sumaktra without forfeiting her life. She may have trained the palace guards and taught them everything they knew about swordsmanship, but she taught them loyalty above all else. And their loyalties lay with Sanosuke and the royal family. No, Kenshin would never let the guards' honor take Kaoru away from him. He had to speak with Saitoh and discover for himself what exactly was transpiring around them, and what part Kaoru had to play.

A few vestiges of the night's dark vigil were slowly lightening in the eastern sky; the inky indigo and blackness were softly fading into a pale gray and yellow. Dawn would soon be upon the desert, and the last thing Kenshin needed was the blazing star bearing down upon his back, trailing his path across the sands with molten eyes unseen. He leaned forward as his horse picked up even more speed.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

"You wanted to see me, sir?"


Hard yellow eyes flickered only briefly to the man standing just inside the tent before returning to watch the lazy trail of smoke rise from the burning tobacco. Smoking induced thoughtfulness, a perfect habit for one puzzling through one of the most unusual murder cases of his time. After releasing one last cloud of haze from his mouth, Saitoh snubbed out the rest and nodded slightly at his officer. It was time to figure out what part every player was assigned in this game.

"I assume you know about the assassinations last night?" he stated, more than questioned.

Silence was enough of an affirmative.

"Misao was there. I found this in the hallway," he continued, flicking the metal dart across the room. Aoshi caught it deftly by its base, careful not to touch the sharpened point.

"That seems highly unlikely, sir. No one has seen her in seven years," came the cool reply. If it weren't for the slight widening of his eyes and sudden tightening of his face, Saitoh would never have known Aoshi was surprised by the sudden reappearance of his lover. He expected nothing less from his top lieutenant.

"Are you doubting my judgment as well as the evidence in front of your very eyes? Don't be an idiot, Aoshi. The weasel girl is back. And with a plan for retribution as well," Saitoh countered.

"Retribution against whom?"

"An old friend of yours and an annoying acquaintance of mine," he responded. "I don't doubt that Himura is on his way here now."

"I see," Aoshi replied, seemingly disinterested. "Is that it, sir?"

A spark of irritation was kindled at his lieutenant's inability to accept responsibility for his actions. "I will not let you avoid them any longer. Half this mess I'm dealing with is your fault. Come out of your cowardly shell and face them," he challenged.

Eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. After several moments, Aoshi spoke. "Yes, sir," he stated evenly, though anger at having lost his advantage shone in his stance.

"Good. Now, I will call you when…"

"Sir!" a voice interrupted from outside the tent flap.

"What is it?" Saitoh answered curtly.

"Kenshin Himura to see you, sir," the soldier responded quickly.

"Send him in."

"Why must I be besieged by morons all at once?" Saitoh said, taking out another cigarette.

Kenshin entered the spacious tent, taking quick notice of Saitoh at the far end. What caught his attention, however, was the fact that his friend who had been buried for seven years was standing and breathing not five feet from him. Aoshi Shinimori: one of the most lethal Hitokiri fighters Kenshin had ever commanded. Back from the afterlife.

"Saitoh, what is the meaning of all this?" the redhead demanded, facing the man opposite him rather than the one next to him.

The general snorted. "You always were a moron when it came to putting two and two together, Himura."

The bandit's eyes narrowed in response as the army officer took a drag of his cigarette and let it out slowly. Saitoh turned his attention back to the swordsman after a few more moments.

"I see I have to explain everything to you simpletons," he began, smirking. "As you can see, Aoshi Shinimori is not dead. He has been working for me for the past seven years. Misao was at the palace last night. She was the one responsible for poisoning that raccoon girl of yours. I have no idea as to her motivations for doing such, but there is one obvious explanation as to why she would betray one of her former friends."

Kenshin's eyes went wide. "She thinks I was responsible for Aoshi's 'death'." It made perfect sense. He had never told Misao what happened that night, never explained who was responsible. She only knew that the two of them went away, and only he had returned. Which meant…

"Very good, Himura. I didn't think you had it in you to be that intuitive. So I suppose you know what she's out for now?"

"Revenge," came the cold reply. All eyes turned to Aoshi, whose gaze was not as steely as usual. He seemed more distant somehow, lost in his own mind.

"You have to…"

"Shinimori knows what he must do. I have already charged him with it," Saitoh interjected, a slight smirk on his face as he inhaled another breath of his tobacco. There was something unspoken in that statement, something between the other two men, but Kenshin had no interest in finding out what it was. "I'm leaving it up to him to find out where the weasel girl is hiding. He is leaving immediately."

Blue eyes glanced coldly at the general. "What about my other assignments, sir?"

"I will suspend them for now. This is a more pressing matter on my docket," he rejoined, a note of finality in his voice. He turned his attention back to his cigarette.

Aoshi knew he was dismissed. He turned to leave, lifting the tent flap with his right arm. A hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Do you still love her?" Kenshin asked in a quiet, demanding voice.

A cold stare was all he received in response. Then the lieutenant was gone. Kenshin stared at his hand for a moment, reeling from the fact that the warmth lingering on his palm came from his long lost friend. Ever since he met Kaoru, his world had slowly been turning upside down. Now, it had lurched from beneath his very feet. Very little was the same as it was seven years ago—seven minutes ago, even—and yet he did not long for the past. There were so many questions he wanted to bombard his friend with, but there was no time. However, the one query he had voiced aloud was the most pressing on his mind: and he still did not have a clear answer.

"He still loves her, the moron. He carries that damn ribbon of hers around like a child's blanket," Saitoh responded to the redhead's unspoken question. However, all of this superfluous nonsense was grating on his nerves. "Shall we discuss matters of national safety now?"

Kenshin shook his head to clear the thoughts from his mind. As much as he hated to admit it, the general was right: there were more pressing matters at hand. "Am I correct to assume that Miss Kaoru will not be allowed to return to the capitol, Saitoh?"

"Correct. The king has banned her from the city. If she returns and is caught, she will die," he said nonchalantly.

Anger burned inside him. "How could Sanosuke do that to her? He knows she was not responsible for what happened to the Nihamran delegation."

"Don't be a moron. Of course she didn't assassinate anyone, but no one knows who did…"

"…And until they find the real killer, the king can't appear biased just because she's a personal friend," Kenshin finished. Now more than ever he was reminded why he hated politics.

Silent agreement met his assessment. There was nothing more to say.

Kenshin turned to leave, but paused before he closed the flap. "I will contact you again, Saitoh."

Then the general was left alone in his tent.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

There was no need to contact any of his informants to discover Misao's location. He knew exactly where she was. He had met her there for the first time, and it was the last place they were together before he was attacked. It was just a small tent far out in the desert, a place that the few who stumbled upon it dismissed it as nothing but a mirage. Even after seven years he could still remember its exact location. It was a funny thing, love.

After a few hours travel under the gaze of the traveling sun, he finally arrived. Nothing had really changed since he had last laid eyes on it: the wooden post where her horse was tied looked a little less sturdy, the canvas had a few more rips and stains on it, but it was exactly the same as he remembered it. // Enough nostalgia, Aoshi. Do what you came here to do, coward // he berated himself. He dismounted and began slowly walking towards the entrance, every muscle in his body tense. After all, his apparent resurrection did not seem to go over well with everyone, and he was very aware of her powers. A swordsman he could defend against, but a gypsy was another matter entirely. Especially a grieving, vengeful gypsy. 

He reached the entrance and extended a hesitant hand. He could not remember the last time he had been uncertain about anything. The things this woman could do to him…

There was barely time to dodge the metallic glint aimed at his throat. She didn't miss a thing. Relief at having evaded almost certain death was replaced by shock as his hand came away from his flesh. Blood. The world ceased to exist.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Darkness and warmth. No, not complete darkness. There was a shimmer of dull light to his right. But the warmth was the most prominent thing on his mind. Why was it so warm?

With great effort, he cracked his eyes open. They immediately fell shut again. Slowly, he blinked his eyes, the world around him becoming clearer with each passing moment. Eventually, he was able to open his eyes and prevent them from closing. Strangely, though, the first thing that came into his field of vision was darkness. That didn't make sense; there was a candle directly to the right of his head which illuminated, albeit dimly, the interior of the tent. This darkness…

He lifted a careful finger and touched the darkness encompassing his torso. Hair. It was hair.

Misao.

A small, unbidden smile came to his lips. She had fallen asleep beside him, her head on his chest. Her hair was not bounded by its usual braid and spilled over him. Her head rose and fell with each breath he took. This was the way it had been, once upon a time. The comfort and peace her presence brought to his soul was overwhelming. He had never expected to see her again, and somehow, even though he knew she was fully capable of looking after herself, the steady beating of her heart against him soothed a feeling of cold, fearful emptiness he was never aware of until now. She was alive.

// Why did I avoid this for so many years? //

The light chased shadows on and off the planes of her face. She was still as youthful as ever, but the seven years they had been apart had added a look of maturity to her features that had not been there before. Her eyes had the barest traces of lines at the corners—whether from laughter or anger he knew not—her mouth was the slightest bit darker, and her skin looked tanner and more worn than before. She had been alone in the desert all this time, but she had weathered it well. To him, she seemed stronger, older, more experienced than the woman-child of seven years ago. More beautiful.

Her eyes fluttered open, a look of confusion resting on her face at first. Then, suddenly, her gaze was wide and she sat back, staring at the man in front of her. She thanked the gods that she had chosen a powerful sleeping draught rather than a fatal one to poison her dart with. If she hadn't, she would be dead by now as well of her own volition. She hadn't even thought before throwing; she had sensed someone approaching and felt their apprehension at her door, and she selected blindly and attacked. No one had come to see her for seven years unless it was to rob her. As soon as she heard the thud of the intruder's body, she had rushed outside to finish the job. And almost fell unconscious herself at the sight before her. She hadn't believed it at first, thinking it was just her mind playing cruel tricks on a bereaved woman. But when she felt real flesh beneath her fingers, labored breaths against her skin, and a faint pulse at his throat, tears seeped out of her eyes. She had brought him inside then, laying him on her own bedding and administering the antidote. Soon after, she had fallen asleep listening to his heartbeat.

He was real. All this time…He was alive!

"A…Aoshi," she whispered hoarsely, her tears returning in full force. She still could not believe he had been alive these past seven years. Although she had wished with all her might that he may return to her, she had known deep within her that he was gone. For once, she was wrong in her predictions, and she couldn't have been more blissful.

"Aoshi!" she cried, falling into his open embrace. "I thought…I never…you…"

"I know," he replied softly, stroking her hair with his free hand while the other held her tight to his chest.

Her tears began to assuage as she pressed herself to him. "Your heart. I can hear your heartbeat. You're really alive," she murmured into his shirt. "You're alive."

"Misao…" he began, for once unsure where to begin. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all the pain…"

Her finger silenced him as she shook her head. "Let's just be right now. I've longed for you for seven years," she replied, her eyes reflecting a mischievous glint. "Explanations can wait."

He nodded in understanding and agreement. She began to withdraw her finger from his face but he caught her wrist deftly and pulled it back to him. He caressed the digit gently with his lips, alternatively taking the tip of it into his mouth and stroking it with his tongue. She moaned in response. // How I've missed him…//

Aoshi was famous in the army for his self-control and ability to keep his emotions in check. But in this instance, however, he was powerless to resist. Misao had always held a special power over him, one that he was hard pressed to admit but did not deny its existence. He reached out and gently took hold of her face, brushing her lips with his. The kiss soon evolved from tender and soft to passionate and heat-filled. Seven years was a long time for both of them.

Eventually, Misao pulled back, that unarming shimmer still in her eyes. She reached out and grabbed the hem of his shirt, lifting it above his head and throwing it haphazardly to the side. She ran her hands along the taught, sculpted flesh in front of her as she covered his mouth with hers once more. While one hand began massaging his back, she reached the other down to remove his pants as well, but his hand stopped her before she could reach his hips. She stared at him, then, a questioning look in her gaze, before she noticed the dark smirk on his face. Understanding dawned on her, and the confusion on her face was soon replaced with a playful, teasing look.

She stood up before he could undo the tie holding her robe closed. He glanced up at her in slight agitation before he realized what she was doing. Slowly, she undid the thin material and slid the robe off the top of her shoulders, revealing the tops of her breasts to the candlelight. His eyes were fixated on her. With a wicked smile, she painstakingly slid the robe down further, until eventually her whole torso was exposed to his darkening gaze. Then, suddenly, she let the rest of it fall into a heap at her feet. The shadows played across her bare skin as she slowly walked toward him.

She knew how to drive him to the brink with desire. He had truly missed these games of hers, when they revealed sides of themselves that only the other knew. Her dark hair cascaded down her back, ever so much longer than he remembered; it swayed behind her with every step she took. When she was almost to him, she knelt down and crawled the rest of the distance on all fours. As she finally touched him, she straddled his hips and leaned down, kissing him as softly as she ever had.

He could not play this game any longer. While increasing the intensity of their kiss, he managed to rid himself of his pants. He then flipped her gently onto her back, placing his hand behind her head to cushion her while resting most of his weight on other arm so as not to crush her. After a few more fervent kisses and exploration of each other's bodies, he willed himself to slow down. She understood the implicit meaning and did the same. After seven years apart, lovers need to learn all the changes of each others' bodies as well as revisit that which has remained the same. And the only way to do so was slowly, lovingly. Nothing should be wasted or rushed. Love was something that required time.

And they would stave off the dawn for as long as they could.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Whew. I can't tell you how much I've worried about this chapter simply because I've never written Aoshi/Misao before, and I've never written anything quite this racy before. I hope it turned out satisfactory for all you A/M fans out there! ^-^ I hope to update more often now that I have more free time, but no promises, minna.

Jason M. Lee: I know the Souzo/Tomoe thing is impossible in the actual timeline, but I like the idea of it. Thanks for the loyal reviews!

Ezra1: I hope you liked this chapter. Misao was a little off before, but I think that's what would happen if Aoshi was ever murdered before her eyes.

Val: I'm glad you like the story! And silly Kenshin is such a baka when it comes to admitting his feelings. ^-^

MP1: The curse will be revealed in time. Probably in the next chapter, actually. And this fic isn't done yet!

Kyanos: I'm glad you like the way I related Kenshin/Tomoe. And I couldn't write Kaoru as other than a totally strong female. And thanks for recommending this fic to others!

Kriska: Thanks for bearing with me on the Souzo/Tomoe thing. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Tiian: It's a relief to know that people don't mind me editing out the Tomoe/Kenshin thing. Makes everything less complicated. ^-~v  I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thanks for the loyalty and understanding.

NightRain2: Thanks for taking a chance on this story! I'm happy you like it so much. Thanks for the compliment.

Dragowolf: I'm sorry this took so long to get out. Thanks for your patience! I hope you liked the A/M. ^-~

ShimmerNymph: I'm glad you like the pace. And I try very hard to put forth the best quality writing I can.

Selph: I quite enjoy the desert setting myself. I was going for something a little different. Thanks!

JML, Megamunch16, DBZ Goddess, Aglaia102, Chitchat: Thank you! ^_^