She'd never thought she would set foot in a private jet someday in her life. The truth was that Gwen didn't find it in herself to care. Between the gnawing worry for Tōga who was still unconscious, and the shock of the previous battle, Gwen was at the end of her rope. She still couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that Tōga's first born was alive, let alone that he looked no more than forty years old.

Shaking, Gwen had yelped in distress when the proud daiyōkai had gathered the massive body of his former father as if he weighed nothing. Adrenalin crashing down, she'd only nodded when his smooth baritone had ordered to hold onto mokomoko. She had not even been able to muster enough energy to bat an eyelash when the huge, fluffy appendage appeared on his shoulder out of nowhere, or when he'd taken flight, dragging her with him.

Fortunately, mokomoko had wrapped around her and kept her secure as they flew over London buildings. All she was able to do was to hang desperately, and refrain from screaming in fright.

Now that Sesshōmaru was lowering his father onto a bed – a bed, in a jet ! – his golden eyes wary, Gwen felt her knees buckle. Strangely, she didn't hit the ground as a set of strong arms prevented her from crashing down. Startled, the young woman found herself looking into a pair of blue-ish eyes that shone unnaturally.

"Take a seat, miss," the middle-aged man ordered her in an accented English.

"Tōga," she whined as he lowered her into an armchair.

"I'll take care of him."

The man's voice was gravelly, but kind. Short, dark hair framed his face, greying at the temple. If not for his eyes, she might have been fooled into thinking he was a regular human. But she knew better.

For the moment, though, Gwen had no care about the dangerosity of those that surrounded her, for her heart threatened to leap out of her chest. Now that Tōga lay sprawled upon the bed, she could assess the damage he'd sustained. A deep laceration had torn his slacks over his thigh. Blood seeped from the wound, soaking both the fabric and the sheets below. Three buttons of his shirt had given way, the fabric revealing a giant bruise and several cuts on his ribcage.

Tears sprang from her eyes, and she bit her fist in anguish at the sight of the purple bruise over his temple.

Dear Gods. Let him be alright.

Blows coming from the side could cause brain damage too easily, and those yōkai were insanely powerful. Who knew what bruises hid beneath his clothes ? What injuries he'd sustained ? He could be bleeding internally, seconds of his life ticking away.

"We must take him to hospital," she rasped, her voice shaking. "He could have internal bleeding, or a concussion."

"Both," the dark-haired man confirmed grimly as he released a tendril of golden energy over Tōga, his face scrunched in concentration. Time seemed to elongate, like an elastic that keeps being pulled on but never snaps. Gwen's heart thundered in her ears, her blood roaring, numbness taking over her mind.

Internal bleeding.

As none of the yōkai seemed too eager to obey her plea, Gwen turned to Tōga's son.

"Sessh…"

"No," he cut, his tone stern. "yōkai medicine is more efficient than any of your ningen contraption. Haru is his best chance."

There was no arguing against such a powerful being, especially in her condition. So her eyes returned to the middle-aged man. She waited, with bated breath, until the tendrils of golden light retreated and he started assessing his patients in more conventional manners. Eventually, he checked her lover's pulse and nodded with satisfaction.

"It will be alright," he said reassuringly.

A surge of relief washed over her when he started flitting about the room for supplies. Too dazed to help, Gwen wiped her cheeks and chanced a glance as the daiyōkai that stood, frozen, at the door.

Despite his modern clothing – a three-piece suit, no less - she was pretty sure he wasn't a reincarnation, for he still bore the markings of his lineage. Two set of stripes adorned his alabaster skin, marking the high cheekbones he shared with his father.

He probably was just a few inches shorter than Tōga, the imposing presence completely decorrelated from the fact that his head nearly touched the ceiling. His demeanour was a dead giveaway of his status and age; his were the manners of leaders. Proud and tall, long silver hair falling past his waist, Sesshōmaru harboured a mask practised for centuries. The kingly expression obscured any thoughts from his face, but Gwen had a secret weapon.

The sight told her everything she needed to know; green energy swirled around him in confused waves. Confused. Worried. Sesshōmaru had not expected to find his reincarnated father, and he didn't know how he felt about it. Could she use that opening ?

"Dōmo arigatō gozamashita," she breathed, knowing he could hear her.

Sesshōmaru's head snapped aside, his piercing gaze boring holes into her, looking for deception. His golden orbs were so different from Tōga's. Ice instead of fire, suspicions and aloofness rather than charm. Pain, as well… so much pain that she wondered, for a moment, how he could still breathe. But, deep inside, she could see the unwavering loyalty of the Inu. Despite himself, Sesshōmaru was assessing her worthiness to ensure his father would not be harmed.

"How do you know of us ?" he asked, his voice brittle, but without an ounce of Japanese accent. That man, er, yōkai could have presented the news on BBC1 and none would have been the wiser it wasn't his mother tongue. As for how she knew him… The crescent moon upon his brow was a dead giveaway; this was how she'd recognised him from Tōga's drawings.

"I know who your father was," she responded, her gaze earnest. "He drew you from the memories of his past life."

For a moment, she swore she saw his eyes widen in shock. Gwen had nothing to hide, so she kept her expression open until a groan rose from the bed. At once, worry replaced any other thought as she scrambled to her feet. To her surprise, Sesshōmaru grabbed her arm and stopped her, his grip strong but gentle enough.

"Don't. Let Haru do his job."

A command; the same tone his father used in the fire station. Baffled, Gwen's whole being struggled not to throw herself on the bed. Her limbs shook, whether from shock or the strain, she couldn't say.

"You trust him ?" she asked, all politeness forgotten when it came to her beloved.

Sesshōmaru rumbled an inconsistent "Hn" that could have meant many things, but the slight tilt of his head seemed encouraging enough. Thus, Gwen stood beside a legendary creature that could fuel the world such was the amount of yōki that oozed out of him, her gaze glued to the unconscious man that had become her entire world.

Every breath Tōga took was a blessing; she feared it would be the last. So without thinking, Gwen grabbed onto the sleeve of the daiyōkai that kept a silent vigil, unnaturally still, beside her.

He didn't push her away.

His body ached. Everywhere. Every breath was sweet agony, his thigh was thrashed, and the side of his face was on fire. Smells of antiseptic assaulted his nose, and Tōga groaned when hands caused the pain to spike in his leg.

His brain was swimming, thoughts jumbled, as if turning in a washing machine. Where the hell was he ? Flashes of dragonlike creatures caused his body to twitch by reflex; a gentle touch restrained him, strong enough to keep him on the soft fabric he rested upon.

Broken. He was broken like he'd never been before, and his mind kept mussing up memories.

"Damn it, Hounds, I thought we'd be having a celebration. What are you waiting for ? You're planning on askin' this evening ?", Ben asked as he settled the check at the counter.

"Yes… no. I'm afraid it's too soon."

Slash. A dragon claw sliced through his leg. His body jerked again; a voice shushed him.

"We're going to have to drug him."

A sting on his thigh provided instant relief for the pain, and he felt his muscles uncoil. The string of memories, though, kept dancing around his battered skull. Something nagged at the back of his mind, something important. For the life of him, he just couldn't remember what it was. Panic rose from the deepest pits of his heart, screaming someone's name.

"How soon ?", Ben asked, lifting his bushy eyebrows.

"Five months."

Ben laughed.

Tōga struggled to open his eyes, but darkness dragged him down, down, down. Five months what ? Asking what ? Memories from the war mingled with those of the evening, afghani feet using his body as a punching bag, a knife slicing his chest, pain frying his nerves.

Another jerk pulled him out of the hellhole they had trapped him in. Ben was looking at him again, his expression amused from the other side of the counter. His restaurant.

"Holy shit, you don't do things in half. Well, don't mess it up and keep me posted."

Does being beaten to death by dragons get in the messed-up category ? Mess up what ?

He addressed Ben a wary look, then relaxed his features. She was coming. A hand slid into his, his body relaxed. A kiss landed upon his cheek, deep grey eyes smiled at him when the little lady wrapped her hand around his waist.

Tōga suddenly jerked awake, bright light assaulting his eyes.

"Gwen !"

A strong grip landed at his shoulder, pushing him back with such persuasion that he could only comply. Then he felt it; a familiar energy swirled around him, oppressive, so powerful that he nearly choked. Tōga's sore neck tilted aside with difficulty, and he refused to cringe at the pain that coursed through his spine to take a look at his opponent. The crescent moon upon his forehead stared him back.

Gold met gold. Inu no Taishō blinked in disbelief. It couldn't be…

"She is well," a gentle voice rose from the other side of the bed. A familiar hand grabbed his and squeezed. "I'm here."

Gwen's voice brushed his mind, but didn't register entirely. The shock was too great, as if he'd been bludgeoned over the head by a mountain. His throat closed, and he tried so hard to make it function. But the golden eyes were still drilling holes into his, familiar icy tones, slightly mellowed by a tang of concern.

Tōga's head was swimming, was it the concussion ?

"Son ?" he eventually croaked.

Just a nod. Characteristic, minimal movement, maximum of efficiency, long hair barely following the movement. An ice prince… no, the next king.

Sesshōmaru.

That's it, he had lost it. Was he dead ? Or perhaps the morphine had finally vanquished him. Before Tōga could squeeze his little lady's hand back, darkness descended upon him. As his mind drifted away, Sesshōmaru's smooth baritone rose in the cabin.

"Never have I seen my father vanquished as he lived. How things change..."

The biting tone, in itself, had not changed a bit.