Quagmire by Nyaliss

Innocence

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha and all related characters. The idea, however, is mine.

From Merriam-Webster Online:

quag·mire

Pronunciation: 'kwag-"mIr, 'kwäg-

Function: noun

1 : soft miry land that shakes or yields under the foot

2 : a difficult, precarious, or entrapping position

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

. . . i n n o c e n c e . . .

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I met her at the most unexpected place.

It was a dreary day. Thick masses of heavy clouds had blown in over the

city the night before and the sun had retreated behind their heavy curtain.

People moved with the quick, jerky strides of those in a hurry. Wise of

them. The silent skies looked ready to release a storm. I turned away

from the window and pulled my mind back from its musings about the ant-like

appearance of the humans scuttling hurriedly on the streets.

I walked quietly to my large desk and picked up the folder sitting on top

a good sized pile. I flipped it open and began reading. This was normal.

Many would be surprised at how mundane my life had become. It was nothing

like the wild days of my youth. I blinked and paused when my eyes rested

on a comma. Wild. There had been times during those years long past when

I had thought I would surely keel over dead from boredom; however, it was

not always so. I had many tasks I needed to do, many responsibilities to

attend to and a temper that was not nearly as controlled as I led others

to believe. I had been possessed of a curiousity that had led to many a

rash decisions and had landed me in strange, quite baffling situations.

I continued reading, deeming the time I had paused longer than the comma

required. Absently, I pulled my armchair out and folded myself gracefully

in its comfortable embrace. I emerged from the sea of letters to answer

the question my secretary's floating head asked when she poked it through

a barely opened door.

"No," was all I said in what I thought was a pleasant enough tone.

The expression on the woman's face as she squeaked out a quick apology

before her head disappeared again made me raise an eyebrow. Females, I

concluded, were strange no matter what species they were. I closed the

folder I had been reading and placed it atop the desk. A bare whisper

of a thud made me narrow my eyes at the door. It gaped back at me. My

silly female of a secretary had not fully closed it in her rush to get

away. I pushed away from my desk to rise but stopped when the door was

eased open a little bit further by invisible hands.

No, I corrected, not invisible hands. Tiny hands. A small head poked

cautiously through the doorway. Slowly, warily, the rest of the child

slid into my office. It was a little girl of about four or five. She

wore a blue and white dress, white socks with frills of silk around the

ankles and black shoes. Her black hair was up in two pigtails on either

side of her head, held back by a pair of blue ribbons. She was. . . cute.

I felt my chest tighten as I watched her glance around with wide curious

eyes. She was bent a little at the waist, her small hands clasped together

in front of her and her lips pursed as she searched for whatever it was

she was missing.

I glanced down and there, resting harmlessly against my right shoe, was a

small colorful ball the size of a large coin. I bent down to pick it up

and when I straightened, found myself pinned to my chair by a blue-grey

gaze.

Recognition struck me.

She wasn't a pretty child.

She was beautiful.

I saw a hint of uncertainty in her face before it was replaced by a shy

smile when she caught sight of the toy held loosely in my hand. My breath

caught at my throat and my heart twisted with an emotion I rarely felt.

I stood up slowly, carefully, hoping I wouldn't frighten her away as I

walked around my desk and to her side. I towered over her, but she did not

move away. She merely tilted her head up towards me, expectation written in

her endless eyes. I quickly dropped to one knee, reaching out with my free

hand to brush my fingers against her delicate neck. I didn't want to cause

her discomfort.

We stared at each other in silence for too short of an eternity. I did not

know what she thought, I could not even begin to guess. I was too caught up

in my own emotions which were roaring in my ears.

I had not forgotten.

Only weak hearts forget.

And though I mourned, wept and hurt still, I was grateful my heart was strong.

It helped me remember.

The little girl's face was so achingly familiar and yet different. Though

childishly round and still not fully developed, I saw the promise of the

beauty she would one day possess. Her eyes were the same. Wise even so young,

patient, gentle, warm, and innocent. It was an innocence she would never lose.

I held out the ball to her. Her eyes focused on the toy and she reached for

it. Her small, chubby fingers closed around it and mine. They were sticky

as if she'd been eating sweets and had not washed her hands. That made me

smile. The answering smile I received broke my heart.

I knew that smile.

I'd worked to see it countless times. I knew I missed it. I just didn't

realize how desperate I truly was to see it again. I stared at her, unable

to form words even as I released her toy back to her keeping. She cupped

it in both hands and cradled it to her chest. I expected her to turn and

run back out the room. She stayed.

I cleared my throat, nervous for the first time in a very, very long time.

"Hello," I said. I was surprised to find my voice was strong and held no

hint of the turmoil roiling through me.

"Hello!" she echoed. Her voice was much higher than I remembered, but it was

still very much her. She held out one of her sticky hands and happily grabbed mine.

"You have pretty hair," she declared.

Ah. So that was why she stayed. I felt my lips curve up to a smile. That was

strangely predictable.

I looked at our hands, hers enveloped entirely in mine. I held that hand as if it

was a fragile thing that would break and fade if I clasped too tight when, truly,

I didn't want to ever let it go.

Do you know who you will become?

For a moment, another image overlapped that of the little girl's. A woman with

raven hair, storm gray eyes and a tender smile held my hand along with the child.

There was love in the woman's face, unwavering and unconditional. I released

the little girl and the woman faded back into memory.

Do you know what you will do?

"Daddy says I'm not supposed to be here," she confessed as if she was sharing the

biggest secret in the world.

I couldn't help the laugh that escaped from my lips. She'd always been able to do

that. "I won't tell if you won't," I told her.

Her slim brows furrowed, then smoothed. She held up a pinky to me. "Pinky swear?" she asked.

Do you know what you will mean to me?

The many times I had been asked that question in the same tone, with the same

inflection and a different voice made me tremble ever so slightly as I twined my

pinky with hers.

"Pinky swear," I confirmed.

I was rewarded with another blindingly sunny smile. She pulled away and I reigned

in the sudden mindless desire to grab her. I could do it. I could keep her with me

for the rest of her days beginning with this one. I had the power to. I had the strength to.

But I couldn't.

This girl child had to grow up free.

I wanted to tell her she belonged to me, with me, even knowing that her mind

would not yet comprehend, but I didn't. I wouldn't interfere even though I wished

with everything that I was and would ever become that I could. I knew that if I did,

my greatest fear would come to pass.

I would lose her.

If I kept her with me now, I would lose her.

If I let her go, grow and then sweep her off her feet and love her in the here and the now, I would still lose her.

I watched her go to my door, struggling to keep myself on one knee on my office's carpeted floor. My eyes burned, my throat ached as if I'd been screaming for

hours without pause or a sip of water. The emotions of joy and grief battled for

dominance. Joy because no matter how different the circumstances and the girl,

she was back in my life. Grief because I knew that I had to lose her to love her and

have her love me the way I remembered.

I wanted to weep.

"Kagome," I said instead.

The little girl stopped and turned to look at me with innocent inquiry.

I wanted to tell her to be careful, to grow strong and brave and wonderful like I

knew she would. I wanted to tell her that everything would be okay, that there

would be times when she would be hurt and she would cry and it would seem as if

there was no hope, but it would be better. I wanted to tell her she would be happy,

that she would love many and they would love her in return.

I wanted to ask her to forgive an arrogant, stubborn fool of a taiyoukai who loved

her more than life.

"I'll come see you again," she said when it became apparent I wouldn't speak. "It'll

be our secret!" She giggled, waved and disappeared out the door.

She left me and, in her innocence, did not question how I knew her name when she

had not shared it.

I felt the sudden, familiar loss.

Knowing the lifetime of love, of happiness, that I remembered would not be

possible if I stayed in her life in this time did not help ease the ache.

I wasn't willing to change the past.

I lowered my face in my hands.

But I still wanted a future.

- e n d -

. . . or maybe a beginning?. . .

***************

Author's Notes:

***************

I was thinking while I driving home this afternoon. . . So here's my list:

1. I've read many stories about Sesshoumaru surviving to the future and he and

Kagome falling in love then.

2. So. . . supposing the taiyoukai did survive to present time and he and Kagome

did fall in love, but they did so in the past. Kagome stays in the past with

Sesshoumaru and they live happily, until she passes away. You see, I think

Kagome's humanity, her mortality, is what makes a Kag-Sess lovestory unique.

3. Then one day, an unsuspecting Sesshoumaru meets the little girl who would

become the woman he would fall in love with.

And I shall leave it at that and consider picking up this line of thought again later.

- 14 January 05 -