A/N: Mrahh, back again, ladies and gents, this time with an Itachi/Kagome one-shot. There isn't much to say, other than that I've developed an insatiable obsession with this pairing that isn't very healthy. In my need to write a piece featuring them, I came up with this. It's a little choppy in some areas, and the style seems to be jumping all over the place, so sorry about that, but blah, what can you do? Sorry if Itachi is OOC, I've never seen a Naruto episode in my life, but I assumed that he wouldn't be the friendliest guy you could be married to. This would be considered AU, I'm pretty sure. So uh yeah, that's about all you need to know about the fic; that is, if you even bothered to read this.

Disclaimers:
Kagome © Rumiko Takahashi
Itachi © Masashi Kishimoto

Love Me in the Light

By: Tea House

09-30-06

--

Kagome stared out the window with melancholy eyes and saw nothing, but the gray, dreary world in which she now lived.

Married to Uchiha Itachi; the Uchiha prodigy, bound to him until her very last breath. The ceremony had passed by quickly; painlessly, for she had been somewhere else; locked away in the darkest, most unforgiving corners of her mind. She could still feel his kiss on her mouth; however, a cold tingling that lingered on her lips. His lips had been so, so cold; just like his eyes. He had stared at her with such hate.

Frozen and hollow; looking into his eyes she could see down into his icy soul, and it chilled the marrow in her bones.

All present at the ceremony had been smiling, joyful of their union, and she knew that she should have felt the same, being married to the most handsome, accomplished ninja in Konoha, she had married the prodigy.

But she had never felt more ungrateful.

The faint note of the shoji screen sliding open registered dimly in the recesses of her cluttered mind, and she did not turn. She didn't need to see the face to know who it was. The air around him, his arrogant manner, it demanded attention, and the girl refused to bestow him that which he did not deserve.

Her fingers curled against the window sill when Itachi spoke, cold and monotonously,

"It was disrespectful of you to leave in such a fashion. You couldn't have possibly left swiftly enough."

Kagome glanced over her shoulder disdainfully at her husband, "I had no wish to engage in anymore festivities," bitterness coated her words strongly, "now would you kindly leave me be? I want to be left alone," she glanced back out the window. Anger festered restlessly in the pits of her stomach, coiling, and coiling; she hated the smirk that pulled at the corner of his mouth.

Why had her father damned her so?

"No," he intoned; behind her back his eyes flashed something indecipherable in the waning light, "I don't think I will."

He never did do what he was told, which was fine by her, it was her who would leave then. She stood, the skirt of her simple, white gown, swirling around her legs gracefully, "Very well," her gait was steady as she crossed the room, and she brushed past him with her chin kicked up in defiance.

His hand shot out with deadly precision, elegant fingers curling around her arm tightly, warningly, "Running will change nothing."

His ambiguous implication made her tremble with anger, "I'm not running," Kagome kept her eyes trained on the door; her escape, "let me go!" she pulled her arm, in which Itachi easily overpowered her meager attempts to disengage herself, and instead pulled her closely to his body.

"Like it or not, you have obligations to me as my wife," he growled, his eyes darkening as they fell to her lips. The hidden innuendo in his words frightened her, angered her, "I owe you nothing!" Kagome shouted, her fury fueling the fire that she only wished to extinguish

She did not like the look in his eyes, for they were no longer cold, they burned hotly, smoldering. He was so frighteningly close, and she felt the air around them spark with something—fire. His eyes still lingered on her lips, making her mouth dry.

"Itachi please—" her whimpered plea fell on dear ears as he lowered his head to hers, slanting their mouths together with a heat, a passion that she did not expect, could not prepare for. Her knees buckled under his hungry assault, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt to maintain her balance. His kiss was harsh, urgent, and Kagome wanted to shove him away, the feelings arising within her alarming.

He wasn't supposed to make her feel this way. She didn't want to fall in love with him, for he would never love her.

But her logic was overcome by his passion, his heat, and she steadily fell prey to his lips and his searching hands.

She fell into him, timidly responding to his scorching touches, his demanding kisses.

And she regretted it all, because he wouldn't ever love her.

--

Reminiscing made the regret swell deeply in her heart. She always regretted that night.

She'd known better, known that he wouldn't love her, but she always gave in, always was seduced by his beautiful, enticing hands. He came to her in the night, hungry and needy for her touch.

He loved her in the dark, but never in the light.

It made her wonder; was she ugly? Did she repulse him?

Kagome's finger traced the rim of her tea cup, a pensive look in her sad eyes. The hatred she felt for her husband ran deeply, pumped through her veins, yet it evoked something inside of her that she couldn't begin to comprehend. She hated him, but wanted to impress him. She liked when he touched her as intimately as he did that first night, but always felt ashamed. Was this what love was supposed to be? Love was supposed to be sure, unwavering, and she felt nothing but a confliction deep in her soul, restlessly endeavoring to sort itself out.

She remembered as a little girl, she'd wanted to fall in love, deeply and madly in love, and now felt foolish, foolish for believing in love, foolish for allowing herself to hope.

Raising a hand to her cheek, a familiar wetness dampened her fingertips, making her simmer with anger. Why did he have to be so powerful? How could she let him make her cry?

He didn't care that she cried for him; he didn't love her. Not like she wanted him to.

--

She'd always been mesmerized by spring. Another ruthless winter had come and gone, leaving behind new life.

Kagome strode gracefully through the courtyard, openly admiring the blooming flowers, and the gentle caress of the wind against her skin. The wind was so unlike Itachi, he was never gentle and tender.

She paused at one of the cherry blossom trees scattered around the palatial garden, her eyes lingeringly tracing over the intricate tangle of branches, watching the petals lazily float along the wind to the ground. Catching one in her open palm, she let the wind take it out of her hand, turning her head to watch it drift away, and she saw him.

Itachi stood, observing her intently from across the courtyard, his skin glistening in exercise. He'd been training. He was always training, always striving to live up to his name as the Uchiha prodigy. And he was handsome, beautiful even.

She let her hand fall limply to her side, fixated by his gaze. Her heart thumped irregularly in her chest, beating faster and faster when she saw him step forward, the motion slowly reiterating as he approached. Why could she suddenly not breathe?

He stopped in front of her, and Kagome felt anticipation fester in her stomach. She was confused at his silence, his intense stare, and wondered, wondered what he was thinking. Anger suddenly flashed in his eyes.

Disappointment registered in her chest, nothing had changed. Unlike the seasons, he never changed.

"Why do you that?" he snapped harshly, abruptly.

It was instinctual, her reaction. It was seldom that he ever spoke to her, and like always indignation flared in her voice, "What are you accusing me of?"

He grabbed her hand, his touch light unlike all the other times, and he pressed her hand against his chest. His heartbeat thrummed beneath her fingertips, and her lips parted in a soft gasp.

"Why do you make my heart rage so wildly?"

"I—I don't know," she whispered, her eyes darkening with confusion. Was this why he despised her so? "I'm sorry…"

Itachi sighed, and Kagome noticed the tired look that seeped into his eyes; he still held her hand against his chest, "Baka," he muttered, reaching behind her head to draw her lips to his.

And for the first time, he loved her in the light.

--

Owari.

A/N: One more thing! Please don't complain that it's short.