Evanescent
By: HalcyonMoments11
If your heart wears thin, I will hold you up
And I will hide you when it gets too much.
I'll be right beside you.
I'll be right beside you.
-Mariana's Trench (Beside You)
Miroku woke with a start, his mind reeling with the fear and desolation that had coursed through him in his dreams as she was pulled uncontrollably closer, the void in his palm an unsatiable maw, an all-encompassing darkness that eroded the edges of the world around them, that ripped and ravaged and tore at her light, at the fine lines of her until not even her screams remained. And he couldn't stop it.
His body trembled with the anguish he had felt knowing how close he had come to losing her, killing her. Bile rose in the back of his throat and he forced his fevered body—now wrecked with pain and weak from the miasma every cell sought to fight off—to turn. Kagome lay next to him, just an arm's reach away; his breath fell trembling from his lips when his eyes landed on her.
'She's here. She's alive.'
She slept beside him so that she could easily wake and give him another dose of medicine and the herbal remedy she had made to counteract the miasma earlier that evening when necessary without waking the others. In the aftermath of their battle with another of Naraku's puppets they had quickly determined that moving Miroku before whatever medicine Kagome could muster for him took hold would only speed the miasma's course through his body. So, they had made camp in the same small space among the trees in which he and Kagome had landed following their scare with his kazaana.
He knew that she had settled beside him for the night for the sake of convenience, but the certainty of her presence, the soft hum of her reiki that seemed to always be present, eased the ails of his mind and body in ways he couldn't quite find the words for in that moment. He watched as the light of the dying fire cast gentle shadows across her skin, illuminating the curve of her jawline, the soft curve of her lips, her long, ebony lashes and tussled raven locks accentuating the shadows lining her peaceful features. He ached to reach out to her, pull her to him, hold her close and soak in her warmth, her light.
"You almost killed her, houshi."
The miasma that remained in his veins thrummed as another wave of nausea washed over him. He didn't deserve her care, her warmth. It would all be gone because of him—she would be gone.
"You think she'll fair better in your hands, cursed as they are?"
None of them would fair better with him. The kazaana was an unpredictable curse, an uncontrollable force that he and his prayer beads only feigned command over. He could only hope that when the kazaana inevitably ripped open he would have warning before his end came. He could only hope that he would have enough time to put as much distance between him and his friends—those he had come to love and let love him—as possible. He had travelled alone for years and not sought companionship beyond the fleeting arms of the occasional woman who would have him after leaving Mushin's shrine as a young man because of this. He was a risk, a danger to anyone around him. This wasn't the first time this thought had occurred to him; the longer he remained the closer he came to the precipice of oblivion.
He shouldn't be here.
Slowly, as quietly as he could, he sat up and forced himself to his feet. The effort made him dizzy with pain and he grasped for a near-by tree to keep himself standing. As he caught his breath, his violet eyes peered around the small campsite at his sleeping companions; only Inuyasha stirred, ears twitching for a moment, but the exhaustion from the battle they fought earlier that day held fast to all. His eyes lingered for a moment on Sango, the taijiya, the battle hardened, kind-hearted, fierce woman he'd promised himself to should they all survive this war with Naraku for the Shikon no Tama. His heart ached to think that he may be another loss she'd mourn someday—another void to tend. Better sooner than later.
He turned to collect his shakujō and his gaze fell again on the miko and he felt his gut clench with guilt, sorrow, longing. He let his reiki reach out to brush against hers softly, tentatively. She stirred slightly, a small hum sounding from the back of her throat as her ki instinctively pushed back against his, sluggish but bright and comforting all the same. He couldn't stay here; he couldn't endanger the people he held dear any longer.
Miroku stumbled into the trees, bracing himself against his staff and anything within his reach to propel himself forward. His muscles protested, limbs shaking with the weight of his body. His progress was agonizingly slow.
Out of breath, he gingerly leaned against a large oak tree, his shakujō held limply in his hands against his chest. He exhaled shakily, attempting to ignore the weakness in his limbs, the way the miasma thrummed through his veins with new vigor. His eyes clenched shut as a fresh wave of nausea swept through him. Every inch of him felt worn, frayed.
"Miroku-sama?"
Startled, his amethyst orbs turned quickly about the trees around him. When she appeared to his right, wavy raven hair in a mess about her shoulders, and cobalt orbs filled with worry and frustration his heart stuttered slightly.
"What are you doing?" Her voice was breathy, as if she had run after him.
He didn't respond. When her azure eyes met his gaze he saw anew his hand extended in front of him, terrified blue orbs coming closer and closer, his kazaana consuming everything in its path—including her.
"You're in no shape to be out here by yourself," she stated, quieter this time, softer.
Silence. She moved closer still. "It's time for your next dose of medicine… Let me help you back to camp," she whispered, reaching out to him.
When he flinched away she paused, brows furrowing questioningly.
"I can't go back, Kagome-sama," he mumbled, almost too quietly for her to hear.
"What do you mean? If you're hurt, I'll help you," she stated reassuringly.
And that was just like her. Too caring, too loving, too affectionate for her own good. Always putting others before herself, even at the stake of her own well-being, her own life. It's what almost got her killed earlier that day. Killed by him.
"No."
"Miroku-sama?"
"I can't. Not after what I… not after you almost…"
Her eyes softened, concern lacing her features. It was exactly what he didn't want to see. He had almost messed up. He had almost killed her, and she was concerned for him.
"It wasn't your fault. Naraku—"
"I almost killed you." He spat, all the venom and fear he'd felt in the moment earlier that day coursing through him, seeping into his words. Her blue eyes widened slightly, hands that had been outstretched to him moments before now held nervously and uncertainly against her chest. His stomach lurched and bile rose in his throat again. He let out a shuddering breath, seeking calm. "I can't continue to be a danger to all of you. I have to leave," he said, turning away from her, leaning heavily on his shakujō.
He pushed himself off the tree and turned to walk away. Before he could take a step her arms snaked around his waist, stopping him in his tracks. Her fists bunched in his kesu at his waist, her face pressed into his back, her hot breath seeping through his thick robes with her tears.
"Please don't go Miroku…"
The way his name fell from her lips—pleading and desperate and lacking the honorific she always tied to it—made his breath hitch in his chest.
"We're all okay. We're safe. I'm safe. Please… you're not to blame. You have to see that."
His hands shook slightly as her words sunk in; hot tears welled up in his eyes.
"Stay," she whispered. Her reiki surged against him, enveloped him in warmth and tenderness.
A shaking hand fell from his shakujō to her hands where they remained twisted in his kesu and entwined his fingers with hers. He let himself lean back into her and bit back the sob that threatened to spill from the back of his throat.
"Kagome." Her name fell from his lips in a broken whisper.
She tugged on his arm and he let her turn him around to face her and pull him into a hug that almost knocked him flat. He suppressed a groan—from the pain that coursed through him; from the way her warmth, physically and spiritually, washed over him; from the desperation he felt at the thought of losing her still seated in his chest—and wrapped his arms around her tightly, fingers tangling in her hair at the base of her neck.
They stood together like that for what could have been minutes or hours, until she took his hand in hers and carefully led him back to their campsite. He laid back down with her help, diligently took the herbal remedy and medicine she gave him, and watched her attentively tuck his blanket around him. When she moved to return to her own bedding he reached out quickly to catch her wrist.
She paused, turned her attention back to him, azure eyes full of concern.
"Stay?" he whispered, voice hoarse and despondent and beseeching.
Her eyes softened, then turned to their sleeping companions around them.
"Just for a while," he amended, almost pleaded.
She nodded once and turned to grab her blanket. As she did he carefully turned on his side and made space for her on his sleeping mat. She wrapped her blanket around her shoulders and laid down next to him, turning so that she was facing him. When she met his gaze once more, a faint blush flooded her cheeks.
He reached a hand up cautiously, brushed her too-long bangs out of her eyes and tucked a stray strand of hair back behind her ear as his eyes searched her face for any sign of the fear he had induced earlier that day. He found nothing but quiet concern, curiosity, shyness, trust, warmth. His hand fell to her shoulder, tucked around her and pulled her closer so that he could tuck her head into the crook of his neck. He pressed his lips to the top of her head in a feather-light kiss and a small sigh fell from her lips, the tension easing from her shoulders as her hands tangled in the front of his robes.
She stayed with him, tucked within the circle of his arms, until sleep took him again and lingered for several minutes afterwards to be sure he was asleep before delicately detangling herself from his hold. She quietly pulled her own mat closer to his and laid back down beside him. When she reached out to take hold of his hand he reached back, interlaced their fingers, and held fast.
A/N: Part of this chapter was originally posted as a drabble in my collection Hues of Violet and Blue. We'll have one or two more chapters set in the aftermath of this battle at Mushin's shrine. Hope you'll stick with me. - HM11
