InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Of Gods and Monsters ❯ Chapter 49: On Deaf Ears ( Chapter 50 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

A/N: And the angst rolls on. My most humble gratitude to Nanda, Kat Morning, and Ithilwen. They are truly three of the best betas a girl could ask for. Chocolate chip oatmeal cookies to Everstar, without whom, this story would've been far shorter.


Chapter 49: On Deaf Ears

I try so hard to tell myself that you're gone,
And though you're still with me,
I've been alone all along...

~ Evanescence, "My Immortal"

Silence as thick and as soft as velvet had long since settled over the lush apartment. Night passed, and while the lights of the city below saturated the low clouds, hiding the stars, thick blinds kept the bedroom dark while special soundproofing kept it quiet enough for even an inuyoukai's ears. The only sounds that reached him were the gentle hum of appliances, the soft ticking of the bedroom clock, and the sound of Teles' slow, deep breathing. The youkai lord's mate lay asleep in his arms, her figure soft and rounded with the curves of impending motherhood. It had been a long day, and while she had insisted that the walk through the Zen garden had not left her tired, he could not help but notice her lethargy and the increasing frequency of her yawns. So he had led her to the bedroom where they curled up on the soft, thick Western mattress, her back pressed against his chest. He tugged the duvet over them and held her until she succumbed to drowsiness.

Even after she fell asleep, he continued to hold her, claws dragging slowly through her hair, savoring each moment that her heart beat. She was warm and alive, and that alone was more than he'd experienced in five hundred years.

It has been said that a youkai can sense the exact moment of its mate's death, that there is a knowledge beyond physical boundaries that allows a youkai to feel its mate's soul departing the body. Sesshoumaru had never believed in such things before, despite the fact that his father had seemed to know the precise moment and location of his mother's fall. He believed now; now, after feeling abruptly, inexplicably cold. Something was suddenly gone, further than it had ever been before. And he, pushed by something that could only have been defined as instinct, found his feet moving almost of their own volition, to do what a youkai mate must.

Steps, slow and measured, took the youkai across the countryside; he could have made it there in a fraction of the time it was taking him, but something -- perhaps one final wish that he was mistaken -- prevented him from hurrying. If instinct was correct, she was with his half-brother and the miko, and would be going nowhere. If instinct was incorrect, she was still safe on the other side of the portal. Hastening his steps would make no difference; either way, she was beyond his reach.

Days passed, and soon the village came into view. Sesshoumaru paused just beyond the boundaries, hovering between light and shadow, his figure obscured by both trees and frost. He watched the village, amber eyes straying to the thin streams of smoke wafting from each hut; inside, humans were likely huddled around firepits, struggling to remain warm. The notion caused a shudder to run through his body, his eyes closing at the sharp pang that accompanied the thought. She would never again be warm.

Inclining his head slightly, Sesshoumaru stepped out of the forest and approached the village. Twilight was falling and the air was growing cold and brittle; the skies were heavy and grey with the threat of snow. As he suspected, there were nearly no humans about, and those who were outside of their homes either took no notice of him or pretended not to.

His steps took him past a tall, red gate and he paused, tilting his head as he gazed upward, his eyes following the series of stone steps. Yes. She was here. Sesshoumaru stood there for several long minutes, staring at the path to the village's shrine. Instinct, alas, had not been mistaken.

He turned again, continuing on through the village, but when his ears picked up the thin wail of a hungry infant, he paused once more. He knew his child's cry, despite the fact he'd never heard it before. This hastened his steps and he followed the noise until he stood just outside of a hut -- so similar to the others. He scented his brother's miko, but Inuyasha and the rest of his compatriots had not been in the village for quite some time.

He stood outside, listening to the tiny, angry, howling cry that came from within, and there, just beneath the wail was a softer sound. A gentle female voice was crooning tenderly to the child.

Foreign uncertainty made the hairs at his neck prickle; did he simply collect his mate and leave, or should he make his presence known to the miko? Making himself known meant facing his son -- being forced to see all that was left of his mate in the world. Closing his eyes, he turned to leave, but something, possibly some lingering shred of Teles' soul, resolutely clinging to his, scolded him for even considering it.

Squaring his shoulders, Sesshoumaru walked up to the hut and pushed aside the flimsy reed flap. There, sitting by the firepit, was Inuyasha's human. Kagome. And there, in her arms, swaddled in fabric, was his child, his heir, her "little warrior." At the sight of the squalling child, he felt a slice of pain so sharp he nearly flinched.

She looked up at him, eyes widening in disbelief; he couldn't blame her for that -- even he could not entirely believe that he was here, that events had taken such a turn. Sesshoumaru could see the bewilderment in her gaze. Why had he come? Why, when he clearly hadn't wanted his mate while she was alive, did he seem to want her when she was dead?

As shock faded away, he felt her eyes probing him, examining him -- dissecting him. He knew what he looked like: thin, haggard, eyes dark with shadows. He'd seen his own reflection often enough in his silent contemplation of Toukijin's blade.

But, no. Her sympathetic gaze held none of the scorn he'd expected. The young woman's dark eyes were not hard with hatred; her mouth was not set in a cold line. He saw pain in her expression. Grief.

She swallowed once. "Sesshoumaru."

"...Miko." He could not make himself say more than that. She automatically corrected him, reminding him of her name, but he amended nothing. Finally, he managed the words that had been hovering in his throat for days.

"I've come to collect my mate."

The words were rough and hoarse, and sounded as if they were being torn from him, and that wasn't entirely too far from the truth. Every syllable was like ground glass against his tongue.

The statement startled her -- dark eyebrows lifted, disappearing behind her bangs. "How... did you know?"

The simple question made something throb and ache in his head. He'd known -- he had tried to ignore it, tried to rationalize the keen, slicing pain, the indescribable sense of loss that had overtaken him scant days before. But no, he had felt her soul leave her body; he had heard her scream out to him once, before that constant knowledge of her presence went utterly silent. Her soul had been entwined with his, providing him with a damning companion, continually reminding him that she was not where she was meant to be, pushing and prodding him to find her, to rectify the situation. And now that companion was erased, leaving nothing but a void.

"We are mated," he managed. "I knew the moment..." his jaw tightened; he would not let himself say any more.

"Oh," she replied quietly. He could smell the renewed scent of tears as she looked down at the child and blinked rapidly. "That's awful."

He did not comment.

Kagome looked up again. "The healers... they tried. They really, really tried." Pausing, she swallowed hard and stood, crossing the small room. She shifted the tiny child to one arm and placed a hand on his forearm. "She tried."

The urge to leave then was overwhelming -- a howling, screeching tempest in his head and heart. Sesshoumaru struggled to maintain his calm, but felt the façade fissure under the pressure.

"I wish to bring her back to my lands."

A short, surprised silence followed. "...You do? But... but I thought..."

He inclined his head in attempt to mask his agony under superiority. "She is my mate, regardless of my past foolishness. If I can do nothing else right, I wish to do this for her."

The young woman tipped her head then, studying him. When she spoke, her words were soft, the barest whisper. "It was a mistake, wasn't it?"

Closing his eyes, he set his jaw in an attempt to regain the composure that seemed to be in constant danger of spiraling away from him. "My mate, miko."

"She's... in the shrine. Aphrodite... brought her here." He would later learn from Aphrodite that Teles' body had been anointed with ambrosia, preserving his mate for all eternity. In death, she would be immortal once more.

Several beats of silence passed; neither of them moved. Kagome looked down at the child in her arms. "But... do you want..."

He looked down at the infant, and a new pain wrenched through him. He shook his head slowly. He could not take the child, he could not raise it; he could not bear to see Teles in this tiny being. Despite the silver tuft of hair, despite the tiny canine ears, despite the crescent moon at his forehead, Sesshoumaru could see nothing but his mate when he looked at the baby.

"I think... I think she'd want you to hold him," Kagome murmured.

When he found his voice, it was low and thick. "I..." I cannot. But she was already maneuvering the infant into his arms. At this point she seemed to realize that he was not wearing his armor; it hung on him now, and he was finding that he cared less and less about his enemies.

"It's okay," she said reassuringly. "You won't hurt him by holding him." She helped settle the baby, making sure Sesshoumaru supported the head properly. Running her fingers through the wild shock of silver fuzz, a soft smile curved her lips. "This is your daddy, Katsuro," she murmured.

He looked at her. "...Katsuro?" A son. This was his son. A tiny snatch of nearly forgotten conversation lit the back of his mind like a lightning flash during a storm.



You know how to hunt for sport, but not necessity. That must change. We will start tomorrow."

"So, little Aeneas will get his first hunting lesson. This should be interesting."

He'd pulled away then. "I beg your pardon? What did you just call him?"

Ah, that smile. "Aeneas. It is a Greek name."

"It is an odd name."

And then, that infuriating tilt of her eyebrow. "And 'Sesshoumaru' is, what, exactly?"

"A very good name. It is descriptive. It has meaning. That Greek name has no meaning behind it, no history."

"No meaning? No history? On the contrary, Aeneas was one of the leaders of Troy -- a great city. After Troy fell, Aeneas traveled to the land of the Etruscans, where he founded their greatest city. How can you say that is a name with no history?"

"The city could not have been a very great one if it had fallen. And clearly he could not have been a very good leader if his city fell."

"It was through no fault of his own."

"Do not tell me that you haven't thought of a name better than that -- something with a bit more meaning behind it."



That... she said that was his name. Because... he fought."

His voice was nearly inaudible. "I see."

Sesshoumaru sunk to his knees, sagging under the weight of guilt, regret, and remorse. The tiny body was swathed in strange fabric, white with tiny purple flowers, and it his mate's scent clung to it. He closed his eyes, swallowing hard. Beloved, I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry.

She cleared her throat softly. "I... wrapped him in some of the sheets from her bed. I'd been sleeping in it with him. It's all I could think of... it's not her heartbeat, but it's a heartbeat, and... Well, it smells like her."

He bowed his head as he held his child. After a moment, the frustrated squirming ceased, and the infant hanyou stopped fussing long enough to blink wide eyes open. They were solemn and grey.

Kagome knelt, leaning over the child. "I thought they'd be... like yours."

The answer came tonelessly as he closed his eyes. "Youkai and hanyou whelps don't develop eye color right away. It comes after several weeks." He'd learned that much from his father's scrolls, at least.

"Oh. Like human babies." She was silent for a moment. "I... you probably want a moment. Alone." She got to her feet and picked up a thick jacket, shrugging into it. "I'll come back in a minute or two."

Once he was alone with his son, he forced himself to look down into the infant's face. You fought to live, then. Ever-mindful of his claws, he traced the crescent moon with his fingertip. "You were her little warrior," he murmured. The baby yawned in response before reaching up and winding his fist in his father's hair and tugging lightly. A faint smile tinted with sadness formed at the youkai lord's mouth as he gently disentangled the miniature hand from his hair.

The words came as a whisper too soft for human ears. "Please forgive me, Teles." I cannot care for this child, my mate. I cannot. I can barely look at him. I see you in his face, I smell you on his skin, I hear you in his cries. It is but one more failing, I suppose. But one I hope you can find in your heart to forgive.

He cradled Katsuro against him, closing his eyes and inhaling, breathing in the scent of his mate and child, savoring it. "You will be cared for here. And this is where your mother would have wanted you to remain. And even if your mother cannot forgive me, I hope that you can."

Katsuro whimpered softly, perhaps sensing the regret and grief pouring out of his father. Sesshoumaru soothed the child until he was again calm and still, watching him with a blue-grey gaze.

"Your mother loved you," he murmured. And your father... your father loves you as well, despite the fact that it would be far too easy for him to blame you for her death, when it is his own fault.

Unable to tolerate this torture any longer, he stood fluidly and turned his head. "Miko." She hadn't moved from the doorway; Sesshoumaru had heard her weeping quietly.

Kagome's eyes were reddened, her lashes spiky with moisture. "Yes?"

"I wish to take my mate now."

Nodding once, the girl approached him, but before he could transfer the infant into her arms, Katsuro began squirming, his cries piercing the hut like a cat's yowl. At a loss, Sesshoumaru hushed the child again as Kagome drifted her fingers through the infant's soft, downy hair.

His words were low, his tone rough. "Take him, please."

She obliged, trying to soothe the fussing infant; however, upon leaving his father's arms, the child's mewing escalated into a louder, more insistent cry.

Closing her eyes, Kagome rocked the child gently. "Shh... it's okay, baby. It's all right."

Unable to watch, Sesshoumaru turned to the door. "I will collect my mate, take my leave, and trouble you no further."

Kagome was quiet for a moment. "I'll take you to her."

Nodding once, he left the hut, letting slow, gliding steps take him to the shrine. As he passed under the red gate, the faintest sliver of discomfort traveled across his skin; this was not a place for youkai. It didn't matter; this was where his mate was, and as long as he could go to her, very little stood a chance of obstructing him. He was aware of Inuyasha's mate following him, but he hadn't the energy to send her away. It didn't matter if she accompanied him or not; the outcome was still the same.

He slid the door open, but no amount of preparation could have readied him for the sight of his mate's body, wrapped in a white silken shroud, placed upon a mat on the floor. The air left his lungs in a rush, his hand coming up to brace himself against the doorway.

No...

A ragged, wild howl filled his lungs, and he gritted his teeth against the mad urge to let the noise tear through his throat. He heard his child's mewling from somewhere behind him, but the sound was lost behind the rush of blood pounding in his ears. Sesshoumaru took an unsteady step forward, but when his brother's mate began singing softly to Katsuro, his knees buckled.

It was slightly off-key, but he could still recognize the haunting tune that Teles had used to call him down from the sky, when the summer sun warmed the grass, filling the air with its scent. It sent the youkai down hard, and he soon found himself kneeling before the body, his hands braced on the shrine floor.

Kagome's voice floated by his ear. "Sesshoumaru...?"

"Leave me."

There was a brief hesitation. "But..."

"Leave me," he repeated, the words edged in a growl.

He looked down at his hands, noticing with a sort of detached fascination the way his claws were digging into the tatami and bamboo, gouging the floor as spirals of wood curled under his claws. Closing his eyes, he drew in a steadying breath, but when his lungs filled with Teles' stale scent mingled with incense and spices, he froze, trembling. He lowered himself slowly, until his forehead pressed against the ground in an attitude of apology.

Sesshoumaru was no longer aware of anything around him. If Kagome remained in the shrine, he neither heard her nor smelled her. If Katsuro continued to cry, he was unconscious of it. He remained that way for either minutes or hours -- Sesshoumaru could not be sure.

When he finally could speak, the words were a ragged, hoarse whisper. " Beloved, I'm sorry. Forgive me, please. I'm a fool."

When he looked up again, his mouth was set in a grim line, his expression characteristically impassive. Moving slowly and carefully, he gathered his mate's body into his arms before bringing himself to his feet. When he turned, he saw that Kagome was still behind him; she had quieted Katsuro by offering him her finger to gnaw on with toothless gums.

He nodded once and turned to leave when her voice stilled him. "Please..." she paused, unsure of how to continue. She swallowed hard and looked up at him with damp eyes. "I know... it's awful. But... Katsuro's going to need you someday."

"I very sincerely doubt that," he said quietly.

"You're his father," she countered, eyes flashing. "He shouldn't have to live like an orphan when he's not. We love him and we'll take care of him, but we can't be what you are."

Her words were waves against a cracked and weakening dam. He was exhausted beyond words. "I only wish to lay my mate to rest, miko," he said wearily. "...Please. Right now, that is what I must do."

After a moment, she nodded. "Okay. Will it..." she paused. "...Others will want to pay their respects to her. May we, after a while?" He considered her request for several seconds before nodding once. "Thank you," she replied, stepping back.

He took two steps toward the door before stopping again. His gaze fixed on the middle distance, he swallowed once before finding the words he wanted. "It would have made her angry if I'd denied..." he closed his eyes, unable to go on.

"Her friends."

He did not look at the figure he held reverently against his chest. "...Yes. It would have angered her if I'd denied her friends such a request."

He left then, his steps leading him out of the shrine and down the long staircase. When he had passed the rice paddies and was entering the blue-black shadows of the forest, he paused, bowing his head for a moment before tilting his head back and letting loose the ragged, painful roar he'd been suppressing for too long.



To say living without her had been difficult was an understatement. Though her body, anointed with ambrosia, lay peaceful and undisturbed, her flesh impervious to the ravages of time, Teles -- his Teles -- was quite gone. He frequently visited her tomb, hidden within the opal she wore in life before making a gift of it to Rin. It was a quiet garden, free from any noise. But this princess would not wake.

After her death, he'd been bereft, barely caring at all for himself; in truth, it was Jaken's persistence that had kept him on his own two feet at first. And then Inuyasha had come to him bearing a tiny bundle wrapped in sheets that still held his mate's scent, however faint. Sesshoumaru held his son for a second time, and while the child had neither silver hair, nor canine ears, nor did he have a crescent at his forehead, the youkai knew his son; he looked just like his mother.

Katsuro's body was likewise prepared before Sesshoumaru placed him in the tomb with Teles. He tucked the tiny form in the crook of his mother's arm, and the two looked as if they'd been caught in the midst of an afternoon nap.

Life had seemed over. Futile. Finding himself irrevocably alone and barely able to contain the ragged, howling shriek of grief, he brought his claws to his hair, cutting the length away, feeling the silver locks pooling at his feet. It was the only thing left that he could do, and while it was perhaps a gesture that would go forever unnoticed, it was at that time the only sacrifice he could make for his mate and child, lost forever to his pride and foolishness.

He no longer cared for anything. Though Rin had gone to reside with Inuyasha and Kagome at their village, Jaken remained ever faithful, caring for his lord when he could. But eventually Sesshoumaru, exhausted, his energies spent on blind, violent rampages, collapsed from fatigue as well as hunger. He'd managed to push himself for months, but when the mighty finally fell, he fell hard. When he finally awoke again, he knew not how many days later, his first thoughts upon waking were shrouded an annoyance at the fact that he was not dead. And then a soft, cool hand passed over his forehead.



"Little youkai, I think it is safe to say that if there is a lesson to be learned here, you've learned it." Aphrodite's voice was soft, musing; she was speaking to herself, rather than to him.

He swallowed against the dryness that had overtaken his throat, and when he spoke, his voice was soft and hoarse -- out of practice. "What lesson would you say there is?"

Her brows lifted suddenly. "Ah, I hadn't thought you awake." Again, cool fingers stroked his forehead, brushing his bangs back. He offered a weary shrug by way of reply before trying to pry his eyes open. When he did, he saw the goddess watching him, grey eyes heavy with maternal concern. "As for a lesson..." She pursed her lips, considering. "Searching too hard for what you thought you had lost means that you overlook what you have."

Her words brought him no consolation and he closed his eyes wearily. "I'll keep that in mind."

Several beats of silence passed. "...How are you feeling?"

The question seemed to taunt him with its simplicity. He felt ragged and worn, his mind and soul battered, and yet still his heart beat, still he drew breath. "Better than I would like."

"And unless I miss my guess, you would rather not feel at all." His silence provided her with his answer and she sighed softly.

There was the faint clink of earthenware and he forced himself to look at the goddess once more. She held in her hands a bowl full of some sort of steaming liquid and was stirring it thoughtfully. Sesshoumaru blew out a long breath, turning his gaze to the stone ceiling. After a moment, he blinked, realizing that he was no longer in the library, where he'd been sleeping. He was in his -- their -- chamber. A surge of white-hot rage blazed through his chest before realizing that he could not smell Teles against the bedding; it had been changed. He could no longer smell her, lingering in the room like a ghost.

The anger drained out of the youkai just as suddenly, leaving him exhausted, but oddly tranquil. "Why did you bother?" he asked calmly.

The goddess looked up from the bowl. "...Bother?"

"Yes."

"Bother with what?"

He said nothing for a moment. "You intervened. Why?"

"I did intervene," she murmured, nodding slowly. A small frown marred her otherwise flawless brow. "But..." she sighed. "How to explain this..."

"...Perhaps you thought this would be more amusing," he said bitterly, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he winced. He saw her straighten, her jaw tense. "I beg your pardon."

"You may beg all you wish, youkai," she said stiffly. "That is insolent, even for you."

"Yes," he agreed, something in him growing desperate to invoke her wrath. "Very much so. Punish me, therefore, and have done with it."

Aphrodite tilted her head slightly, sending several spiral curls sliding past her shoulder as she offered him broth from the bowl she held; he took it. "You truly wish that? You wish for me to smite you out of existence so that you may never feel this pain again?"

He nodded. If anyone could, it was this goddess. Perhaps she would even enjoy her task, considering it fitting recompense for treating her daughter so poorly... despite the fact that she appeared to be coaxing broth into him.

"And if I told you your journey was not yet complete, youkai. What then?"

"I do not care," he managed wearily.

She tilted the bowl against his lips, and she watched him for a moment, gauging him. "And if I told you that it was your destiny to be given a second chance?"

Confused, he swallowed and lifted his head a fraction, regarding her. "A second chance? At what, pray?"

She did not reply right away. "What do you know of time, youkai?" she asked, offering him more broth.

He was quiet for several seconds, contemplating his answer. "It goes on whether I wish it to or not."

Aphrodite nodded once, putting down the bowl. "Yes, but..." here she lifted one hand, palm up; a pink sphere hovered above, glowing softly, "there are things we have done in the past..." the goddess held her other hand up; a silver sphere glowed above it. "And things that will be done in the future..."

Sesshoumaru watched with nothing more than intellectual curiosity as the two spheres shone and glowed, bathing the goddess' face, her grey eyes catching and reflecting the ethereal light.

"...and never the two shall meet -- past and future are forever divided." She paused a moment, regarding him. "Do you know where she went, Sesshoumaru?"

Her question puzzled him. She died, of course. She went to the Underworld. Where else could she have gone? What do you mean, where she went? He thought for several long moments, turning the question over in his head.

He thought immediately of the well -- the portal Inuyasha fought so hard to protect.

A portal to another world?

He looked again at her hands. No, not another world.

"The future," he breathed. Aphrodite nodded slowly, and at this, Sesshoumaru felt a surge of hope, but it was quickly doused. "You cannot send me to the future. She is not there now."

"No, she isn't. And... I can't send you there -- it would be fruitless to send you there now, anyway." He closed his eyes in defeat, letting out a tired sigh, but his mate's mother would not leave him be.

"How long do youkai live, Sesshoumaru?" The light vanished and she picked up the bowl once again, offering him more broth, which he took.

His shoulders lifted tiredly in a shrug. "Centuries. Perhaps millennia."

"And what is five centuries in the life of a youkai?"

The question and the relevance of it hit him solidly and he went ashen. "You would have me live... all that time..." he managed in a hoarse voice, shaking his head slowly.

"If you live all that time, you will already be there when she arrives," she explained patiently, offering the bowl again.

Sesshoumaru was quiet, his brows drawing together as he remembered the advice of the taiji-ya and the monk. "I could... calm Katsuro." He could save her -- them.

Aphrodite nodded, offering more broth. "You could, in fact, do a great many things."

He frowned, looking up at her. "Such as...?"

The word was spoken softly, but the air in the room seemed to suspend it. "Apologize."

Amber eyes closed. Apology. Forgiveness. Things he thought would never be available to him -- things forever out of his reach, gone when his mate exhaled her last breath. He nodded slowly. Licking dry lips and swallowing hard, he opened his eyes again. "Five hundred years, is it?"

Nodding, Aphrodite gave him the last of the broth and set down the bowl. "Four hundred, eighty-eight years, three months, two weeks, and a day, to be exact."

"...I do not know if I can live that long."

One dusky red brow tilted at him. "You said yourself that youkai can live millennia. Are you, then, a sub-standard youkai?"

The irony of her words struck him, and in his weakened, exhausted state, plucked at some long-forgotten string, and his body vibrated with hysteria-tinged laughter. "I drove my mate into such a state of panic and despair that she fled five centuries to get away from me, where she bore our child alone and in pain, where she died, and you ask me if I am sub-standard?"

The goddess appeared not to be amused. "Very well. I will put it in terms you can comprehend." She folded her hands neatly in her lap. "You say you do not believe you can live that long. If it means undoing every shred of pain you've undergone since she left, if it means returning her to your side, if it means aiding her when she requires you the most..."

Possibilities hovered before him, blown away when he exhaled a long, shuddering sigh. "I do not wish to. At the moment, I do not believe I can exist from one minute to the next." Aphrodite opened her mouth to disagree, but he cut her off. "However, I would not... presume so much to have her return to me."

Aphrodite blew out a deep breath. "Sesshoumaru. My son... she must return to you. And by that I mean, she must return to this age."

He gave her a quizzical look before shaking his head slowly. "I will not force her."

"The well," she explained, "is a portal between this age and another. And, by and large, beings are meant to exist in one time or the other -- there are exceptions, of course, but I'm speaking generally. She does not belong to that world. If you manage to live five hundred years and she does not see you... nothing will change. If you manage to live that time and she does agree to see you, you must send her back. Not immediately, of course, but... eventually."

He rubbed tiredly at his forehead. "Very well," he murmured wearily.

Setting her jaw, the goddess shook her head. "You don't sound as if you understand. If you don't send her back... you'll both be trapped, living the same series of days over and over again, until she returns to the era to which she belongs."

Golden eyes lifted, and when he spoke, his tone was sharp. "I will do it if I must. Right now, it is all I can do to draw breath from one minute to the next, so forgive me if I show less enthusiasm than you would like."

Aphrodite was unruffled. She explained patiently, "I'm trying to explain to you the ramifications of your failure to do what is required."

"They're grave. I understand. I will do it."

A faint smile warmed her lips, and it was clear she was reassured. "I'm glad to hear it. If there is any way I can assist you..."

Sighing again, he shook his head. He was still so tired. "Not currently, no." Her hand came to his forehead again, cool fingers threading slowly through his shorn hair. He gave in to the soothing sensation, closing his eyes as his mate's mother murmured softly to him.

"My poor son. You've both been through so much..."

He swallowed hard, but did not open his eyes. "I miss her."

"I know, Sesshoumaru," she said softly. "And I'm sorry."

His words were heavy with guilt and fatigue. "It was my own fault."

"You both made mistakes."

"Perhaps, but I daresay I made more."

Aphrodite huffed a sigh that held a hint of impatience. "It isn't important who erred first or greatest or most frequently. What is important is that you learn from those errors. Teles needs to have faith in you, confidence in herself, and she has to learn that she can't vanish every time a situation becomes difficult or unpleasant.

"She left without giving any thought whatsoever to the repercussions of her actions. And you, my little youkai, have an entirely different set of mistakes from which you must learn."

They were both quiet for a moment. Sesshoumaru turned over the goddess' offer in his mind. Five hundred years to wait, to plan, to rectify his past mistakes. Five hundred years to compose the perfect apology. Five hundred years of his own life to restore that of his mate.

As if reading his mind, Aphrodite's voice floated down to him. "I promised you, youkai, that she would never leave you. She is gone, but not forever."

He tried opening his eyes, but his lids were far too heavy. "Perhaps I should have asked you to be more specific."

"Gods and goddesses have little use for specificity, my son," she replied, never ceasing her soothing ministrations. He exhaled a tired huff of a chuckle, and her fingers toyed lightly with his bangs. "Sesshoumaru, she... she loved you. You must realize that, if nothing else. When she was not here, she often wished she were. She missed you a great deal." Aphrodite paused slightly, her fingers stilling. "I think she regretted leaving, but pride forbade her from coming back on her own."

"A trait we share," he murmured quietly.

"And so you are truly matched." She leaned over and brushed a maternal kiss across his forehead. "Now rest. You've got to rebuild your strength, youkai, and you haven't a great deal of time in which to do it."

"I have five hundred years, Aphrodite."

"And you'll find it's barely any time at all."



And so, he was given this offer -- a chance to amend, to atone for his pride, his mistakes. He was being given the opportunity to save the lives of both his mate and child. Now his task was nearly complete; he would have to send her back soon -- in five days, to be exact.