Author's Note: I apologize for the long delay! And for the disgustingness that is this chapter. If you hate me for uploading this, I won't blame you. I just need to get over this hump, and hopefully the next chapter will be better. Let me know what you think, and especially tell me what I can do to make this better! (Sesshoumaru's parting lines sounded so much better in my imagination…)

Absence

Chapter Eleven

And so Inuyasha came to stay with Sesshoumaru and Rin and, when he returned from his extended visit to his family, Jaken. There had been no discussion, no decision made; it just came to be that the four of them traveled slowly across the countryside, ranging far and wide with no sense of urgency, no planned destination or agenda.

It was as if time itself was suspended while Inuyasha spent the days and nights at Rin's side. Part of him was numbed still, caught in that limbo between consciousness and the void. The other part of him was all too aware of his follies, but it was easier to focus on the numb than the overwhelming guilt he felt every morning when he woke up knowing Sango and Shippou and Miroku were worried about him. Even as part of him acknowledged the fact that he would one day have to face the consequences of his actions, it was as if he were still running on basic self-preservation instincts.

Let it be all right for now. Just let it go. There would be time enough later to deal with everything. For now, it was enough to spend the days with Rin, foraging for food for the little girl, playing the myriad silly games she came up with, picking flowers, braiding hair. Rin had a special penchant for the latter, and she often spent hours running her fingers through Inuyasha's hair, her fingers deftly twisting the silvery mass into long, smooth braids.

Sesshoumaru often left for hours at a time, leaving Rin in Inuyasha's care. There was no explanation as to his absence offered, no clue as to when he was to return. It never crossed Inuyasha's mind to question the older demon where he went or what he did; never occurred to him to track his half-brother by scent when he disappeared with hardly a forewarning of his departure. Most nights Sesshoumaru would reappear without a word as Inuyasha and Rin were setting up camp for the night, appearing from the shadows; some nights he wouldn't, and Rin would merely snuggle under her blankets and say, "He'll be back in the morning."

Inuyasha didn't understand her blind faith, but Sesshoumaru never proved Rin wrong.

Inuyasha had what was probably his first mature conversation with his elder half-brother one night after Rin had fallen asleep. The fire had burned down low, the embers glowing in the darkness of the night; on the other side as Rin, Jaken slept, snoring softly. Inuyasha was sitting, back against a tree, his arms folded across his chest. His wounds had long since healed, but he couldn't shake the feeling of lethargy that settled over him like a shroud. Sesshoumaru was sitting—it was odd to see him sitting—motionless.

"You really care for her, don't you?"

Sesshoumaru didn't have the decency to look surprised by the unexpected statement, but he did glance over at Inuyasha. There was that same look in his eyes, the one that used to set Inuyasha's teeth on edge. As if he were measuring the hanyou, and finding him lacking.

It was obvious who Inuyasha was talking about, but Sesshoumaru couldn't help but look over at the slumbering girl across the fire. She had rolled half out of her blankets and was mumbling to herself in her sleep, as was her habit when she dreamed. "It is as this Sesshoumaru has said. It is not a feeling I have felt before."

That was an answer that was no answer at all, and Inuyasha frowned. How irritating could Sesshoumaru really be? "Is there anything you wouldn't do for her?"

Sesshoumaru narrowed his eyes at his brother. Inuyasha was both tactless and dense. "This Sesshoumaru would endure irritating, nonsensical questions from a certain worthless hanyou because it pleases Rin to share your company." His tone of voice indicated that, under any other circumstances, it would have pleased him to rip Inuyasha's head off his shoulders for initiating the inane conversation.

"Would you let her go, if you knew there were other people who loved and needed her? If you knew she loved and needed them?"

Perhaps, Sesshoumaru thought as he looked across the small clearing at the hanyou, perhaps Inuyasha was not as tactless as dense as he outwardly appeared. And perhaps the conversation was not as inane as first judgment had ruled.

But just because he'd come to that conclusion didn't mean he had to give the idiot the satisfaction of knowing that. Sesshoumaru glanced away, as if bored with the topic. "Do not think you will gain this Sesshoumaru's approval of your actions by drawing false parallels. It is as I have said before—yours were a less paternal feeling towards the girl." He had never deemed fit to use the human female's name; he sensed doing so now would only add to Inuyasha's pain.

Inuyasha was silent a long moment, and finally he huffed out a breath that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan. "You couldn't just say yes or no, could you. You couldn't just make it easy."

Sesshoumaru's response was enough to give even Inuyasha pause.

"It is not my duty to ensure the ease of your life. It is your choice to do as you will, and by your own actions do you prove yourself worthy or not of bearing the burden that is life."

No, it wasn't his duty to care for the hanyou. Nor was it his responsibility to assuage the fears of the humans who insisted, for unbeknownst reasons, on accompanying the youngest son of the deceased Lord of the Western Lands.

But Rin had turned those wide, seemingly guileless eyes on him in that way of hers that secretly made something inside him go warm and soft. Inuyasha had been sleeping uneasily, his head on Rin's lap. Sesshoumaru had been sitting on a protruding tree root, tracking the progress of a distant deer herd with his sense of smell and wondering if the human child would eat red meat if he brought one down.

Rin had been petting Inuyasha's head gently. "Rin wishes she were bigger."

Her comment had caught Sesshoumaru off-guard, and he glanced over at her in silent invitation to continue. Rin wasn't looking at him, frowning down as her fingers, trailing through Inuyasha's hair, encountered a snarl. She worked in loose, continuing blithely, "If Rin were big and strong, she would be able to find Inuyasha-sama's friends and tell them not to worry about him. Sesshoumaru-sama is keeping him safe."

Sesshoumaru nearly scowled at the memory, only the slight furrowing of his brow indicating his displeasure at Rin's choice of words. He wasn't guarding Inuyasha or looking out for the ingrate's better interests.

He was being kind enough to spare him his life. Sesshoumaru had said it before, and he stood by his earlier conviction: it was meaningless to kill Inuyasha when he didn't even know who or what he was. Inuyasha might have regained his hanyou senses, but he was every bit as lost as when he was succumbed to his full youkai self.

Yet here he was, standing at the edge of the forest and gazing down at the mortal village cupped in the small valley. Heedless of his supervision, they toiled in field and home, going about their meaningless, daily lives. Sesshoumaru had never understood the human mindset, the drive to work hard for their short, pointless existences on this planet.

He could not comprehend how his own life had come to be so closely linked with that of one small, insignificant human child. How he had come to be involved in the lives of those who congregated around his half-brother. Like flies to a rotting corpse.

But Rin had asked, with words that were no words at all, and what else could he do but oblige?

The humans hadn't even the sense to post a guard. What if there were an unexpected attack? Sesshoumaru paced unencumbered down what could have been considered the main street in the village, his feet soundless against the well-packed dirt. Those villagers close enough to see him fully gaped soundlessly before rushing away, shuttling small children before them.

He had expected to be confronted with at least one of the familiar humans, and Sesshoumaru paused in the center of the village, scanning his surroundings. None of the familiar humans came out to meet him, and Sesshoumaru refused to acknowledge the feeling of irritation. He had been so ready to rebuff their blustering belligerence, their unfounded fear.

Resigned, Sesshoumaru sniffed the breeze to find them, if they would not come to him. He kept his breathing shallow in an abortive attempt to limit the inhalation of the human stench that permeated the air around him, sorted through the myriad messages borne to him on the wind.

He turned abruptly, strode to a hut on the edge of town, and brushed past the hanging door mat.

The human female who accompanied Inuyasha—the one whose brother had once accompanied Sesshoumaru and Rin—was by the fireplace, wielding a knife with the ease of long practice and humming to herself. The humming cut off abruptly as Sesshoumaru entered the room, and her eyes widened in shock even as she scrambled backwards.

"S-Sesshoumaru."

He gazed at her levelly, unfazed by her shock—and fear. There was a squeak of dismay from a corner, and Sesshoumaru glanced over to see the little kitsune child, hair rumpled from a recently disturbed nap, dash over to position himself between Sesshoumaru and the human.

He was shaking so hard his tremors were visible, and the quiver in his voice belied the belligerence of his words, but he didn't budge as Sesshoumaru stepped closer. "Y-Y-You won't get close to Sango!"

Sesshoumaru might have been amused by the kit's defiance, but he was under no compulsion to let such amusement show. "Little rodent, you will not stand in this Sesshoumaru's way."

To his great amusement, that seemed to get a real rise out of him. "I'm a kitsune!" It was something between a shout and a wail; even the human's—Sango's—lips twitched in a smile behind the kitsune's back.

Ignoring the irate kitsune, Sesshoumaru fixed his gaze on Sango. "This Sesshoumaru has come to speak to you and the human monk regarding the matter of the worthless hanyou."

Relief flooded Sango's face and nearly erased all scent of her fear. She half-rose to her feet, obviously not realizing she was still clutching the knife in one hand, tightly enough her knuckles were white. "Have you seen him? Is he all right?"

Shippou's demands were not so much concerned with Inuyasha. "What did you do to him?"

"Less than he has done himself, and not what he had asked," Sesshoumaru snapped back, more quickly than he'd intended. Both Sango and Shippou rocked back, a little surprised by the vehemence of his response. Sesshoumaru took advantage of the pause to glance around the meager hut. "Where is the monk?"

Sango glanced at the opening behind Sesshoumaru and swallowed nervously. "He's down by the river, helping Kaede-sama mind the children."

Sesshoumaru couldn't see what he had done to cause her sudden nervousness. Humans were wearying creatures, and he resisted the urge to rub a hand over his temple. "It is not important. Know only that Inuyasha is safe, though unlikely to return soon."

Sango closed her eyes briefly. In the space that followed, Shippou shifted on his feet. His tremors had dwindled, slightly, but the suspicion remained as he watched Sesshoumaru through narrowed eyes. "Why are you telling us this?"

The answer was simple, but it grated on him to voice it aloud. "This Sesshoumaru was asked to relay the message of Inuyasha's relative safety."

"He asked you to?" Disbelief was foremost in Sango's voice.

Sesshoumaru shot her a single glance, already turning to leave. "No. Rin did."

He pushed back the hanging mat, blinking in the sudden wash of light. He hadn't taken one step when there was a rush of motion behind him.

"Sesshoumaru. Wait." He stopped, looking over his shoulder at her. Sango squinted, shading her eyes with one hand so she could look up into his face. "Our deal, about my life…"

"Your life is meaningless to this Sesshoumaru."

Her eyes widened at the implications of his statement, but she persisted nonetheless. "I asked before for more time, for the Houshi-sama's sake. Now I ask again, not for my own, but—" she laid a hand over her stomach "—for my unborn child. Until my child is born, I ask that you not take my life."

"You have nothing I need." That business had been finished with Naraku. While his rage had not been assuaged, nor his anger appeased by her selfless offer of her mask to protect Rin from the poisonous gases of Naraku's interior, it would be meaningless to take the life she offered.

He could have killed her on first sight, in the bowels of Naraku's body. But he would not kill her now. Whether that was a weakness or a strength, Sesshoumaru did not care to examine.

"You will not speak to me again of such matters." There was a human saying about old matters best left alone, wasn't there? Sesshoumaru didn't look behind him as he strode away; he didn't need visual confirmation to know the kitsune had leapt to Sango's shoulder, and that they were both staring at him as he walked away.

Let sleeping dogs lie.

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