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Guilty Hero

Chapter 15: Resolution

Waking up was never a pleasant experience in Inu-Yasha’s life, for it meant breaking from the sweet bliss of unconsciousness into the harsh reality of life, which was usually accompanied by a headache and an upset stomach.  But this morning, due to a few extra factors, the event was made nigh unbearable.

Inu-Yasha found, once he slowly dragged himself kicking and screaming from the depths of sleep, that he had spent the entire night with his face shoved in the carpet, which hadn’t had a proper cleaning in years.  Certainly, Kagome had run the sweeper several times since her arrival and he was grateful that he wasn’t breathing in dust and crumbs, but the smell of it was enough to turn his stomach.

Shifting slightly to try and get away from the smell, he moaned  as his neck muscles complained at the attempt; he could barely move his head at all, his neck was so stiff.  He must’ve been asleep for quite some time for his muscles to be giving him this much pain.

Finally, unable to move far, he lay still on the carpet with his eyes shut, trying to get his bearings.  First off, what was he doing on the floor?  And why was he so uncomfortable?  Whenever he fell asleep in an unusual spot, such as the kitchen table or even just on the couch, Kagome came by and tucked a pillow under his head and covered him with a blanket.  Yet this time, there was nothing.  Come to think of it, why hadn’t Kagome found him yet?  Usually once he made a few signs that he was awake, she was by his side in a moment with a glass of her baking soda/water mixture and a strong cup of coffee.  Trying once again to move, and hopefully attract her attention, he found himself unsuccessful in both areas, and decided to stop thinking so much—it was making his head pound far more than necessary.

Ah, and his head…  There was a sharp stinging sensation in his left temple that had blossomed into a major annoyance since he had awoke, and it only added to the pounding behind his skull.  Groaning, he dragged open his eyes to see what the problem was, and discovered only his right eye was capable of opening; his left seemed to be glued shut.

Slowly, for he was having difficulty controlling his limbs at the moment, he brought his hand up to his eye and rubbed it.  He felt something dry and cracked, and when he pulled his hand away to study it, he saw there were brown flakes over his fingers.  Was it dried blood?  Gingerly fingering the tender spot on his temple, he suddenly hissed in pain, and his hand came away wet with blood.

Well, that clinched it.  It was time to get up and figure out what the hell was going on.  Stiff and sore from lying on the floor all night, he tried to get on his hands and knees, the first step to get into a standing position.  However, his progress was halted when he smacked his head on the underside of the side table, and was sent crashing back to the floor with a yelp.

With the throbbing pain coming from all directions in his head and his stomach churning faster and faster, he could bear it no longer.  On his feet in a moment, he ran stumbling down the hall, and made it to the bathroom sink just in time for the cause of all his suffering to come back up with a vengeance, making a wet, splattering sound in the basin.

Once the retching subsided, Inu-Yasha was able to lift his head and stare into the dirty glass of the mirror, and was unsurprised to see the wretched figure glaring back.  His cheeks were pale and sunken, a stark contrast to the dark shadows under his eyes, his right eye of which was a smoldering red color, so bloodshot that it hurt to see out of.  His left eye was indeed coated in dried blood that had come from a particularly nasty gash across his temple, the cut still bleeding sluggishly.  He must have slashed his head pretty good to have it still bleeding, even after giving his demon healing abilities an entire night to work.

Spitting a foul mouthful into the sink, he ran the faucet for a moment to clean it out, wincing from the harsh noise, then splashed his face with the icy water, scrubbing his eye until it was back in use.  Then he groped for the hand towel Kagome had insisted on hanging by the sink and wet it down, carefully scrubbing all the blood that had dripped down the rest of his face.  When he got near the cut, he attempted to clean it out, but the sting was like a knife being thrust into his skull, and a hiss escaped before he could block it.

“Damn it…” he whispered hoarsely, clutching the edges of the sink.  Unable to handle any added pain, he passed on cleaning the gash.  It could wait until the stampeding bulls in his head calmed down.  Shuffling over to the closet, he pulled out a band-aid from the first aid kit and, after a minute of fumbling with the wrapping, stuck it over the wound.  It was nowhere near large enough to cover the entire scratch, but it did prevent any more blood from streaming down his face.

With that temporary fix in place and both eyes functioning, he stumbled down the hall and into the kitchen, peering around for his nurse.  Where was she?  Surely she would have noticed by now that he was up.  He glanced at the red digital clock sitting on top of the television and saw that it was after two in the afternoon.  While that was late to sleep, even for him, she always liked to be there when he awoke.  He never understood why, for he always thought himself to be worse company than usual when he first rose to greet the day, but Kagome seemed to like it.  So why wasn’t she around?

As he made his way into the kitchen, he paused at the side table by his couch and saw a splash of red on the corner, knowing it was the cause of the gash.  He must’ve hit his head when he… passed out?  Fell asleep?  He couldn’t remember what had happened.

Averting his gaze from the attack that he knew was forthcoming, he flipped on the light switch in the kitchen, then slowly removed his hand as he gave his bloody eyes a chance to get used to the bright lights.  A quick scan around the kitchen told him that Kagome hadn’t even been in his apartment at all that day.  There was no newspaper on the table, no tea kettle on the stove, and no pot of coffee ready for him.  He rubbed his head, quite confused; she had never done this before.  Normally, if she was going to be gone for a day, she told him about it ahead of time.

Sighing, he shuffled around the table and put together a pot of coffee in a daze.  He felt rather detached from his body; there was something niggling at the back of his mind that kept breaking into his thoughts with a great urgency, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.  It had to have been from last night; he had little memory from it, only feelings.  Anger, mostly, then a deep sense of dread, then sadness.  He was unsure if he really wanted to know the cause of those emotions, but if they were the reason Kagome was missing, perhaps he should dwell on it for a while.

With the coffee maker gurgling and sputtering, he made his way back into the living room and flopped down on the couch, leaning his head back and shutting his eyes so he could think properly.  He decided to start with the first thing he could recall from the day before: Kagome convincing him to go grocery shopping.  Then there was the rally.

He couldn’t help but let loose a growl at the thought.  That rally was certainly the cause of the anger he remembered feeling, and still felt now.  But he was too ill to allow himself to get caught up in it, but he made a mental note to let her know his displeasure once he found out why she had disappeared.

All right, after the rally, what had he done?  His memories were starting to get fuzzy, but he could recall a mad dash over the city rooftops.  He had been silent during that run, but the rage was building exponentially.  The run ended on the roof of the Cornerstone Tap, and from then on, his mind was blank.  He could only assume that he had spent the evening inside, but…

What was it?  That nagging feeling of dread in the back of his mind was still there, demanding his attention.  So, despite the painful throbbing in his temples that refused to cease, he pinched his eyebrows together, deep in thought.  Slowly, images swam into view, brief sights that didn’t offer him much help.  Several views of the inside of a tumbler, Iro’s exasperated face, a blurry picture on a TV screen…  Growling again, he shook his head.  This wasn’t helping.  He decided to take a more logical approach. 

If he had drunk so much that he passed out on his living room floor, he probably shouldn’t have walked home in the first place.  Thus, something must have happened to make him come home.  Most likely, it was what was causing the feeling of dread.  Rubbing his face in frustration, he tried to conjure more memories. 

Let’s see…  The sight of endless flights of stairs struck him, but clearly that hadn’t discouraged him from getting up them.  Then…  An oddly clear image of Kagome popped out of nowhere.  Her expression of fear and anguish was incredibly vivid; so clear that Inu-Yasha quickly sat up, despite the protests his body made at the rapid movement.  What had he done? 

Suddenly, a knock at the door made him start in surprise.  Nobody bothered knocking on the door unless it was a total stranger.  Sango, Miroku, and Kagome all knew that he never locked the door, and could care less if they just barged in.  So, curious and more than a little irritated, he dragged himself off the couch and stumbled to the door, still a bit off-balance.

Swinging it open just as another knock sounded, he stared at the woman on his doorstep, quite surprised.  “Kagome…?” he asked stupidly.  She was looking down at her shoes, panting a little, and he realized that she had carried four bags of groceries up the stairs by herself, once again.  His cheeks flushing a little from guilt, he growled, “You don’t have to knock, you know.  And where the hell have you been?  I was—“

“You don’t have to worry,” she said softly, quietly but effectively silencing him.  “I’m not going to stay long.  I only wanted to drop off some food.  And I also…”  She stopped and took a deep breath. 

Inu-Yasha, studying her closely, realized she was trembling.  There was even a slight tremor in her voice.  He frowned, growing even more confused by her strange behavior.  Was she nervous?  But about what?

“… I just wanted to apologize.  For yesterday.  I honestly didn’t know the effects of my actions.  I didn’t mean to force you into anything, I was only hoping that we could have a pleasant time outside for a little while.”

His flush spread up to the tips of his ears.  Any anger he had felt towards her over the rally yesterday just seeped out at the sound of her barely concealed grief; it was very clear how badly she felt, and he couldn’t bear bringing her more misery by yelling at her.  Scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the carpet, he mumbled, “’Sokay.  It’s over now, anyway.”

She nodded, then finally dragged her gaze up from her shoes and held out the grocery bags.  “Well, I guess I’ll go now.  Here’s your—what did you do to your head?”

He stared blankly at her for a moment, confused by the sudden change.  “Huh?  Oh…”  He reached up to finger the band-aid over his ill-covered wound.   “I, um, I think I hit it on the side table…”

Frowning in disapproval, Kagome brushed past him into the apartment.  “Go sit down on the couch.  I’ll be there in a moment.”  Then she bustled into the kitchen and set the bags on the table, emerging once again to retrieve the first-aid kit from the bathroom.

Inu-Yasha, too confused by the whole conversation to argue, slowly eased himself back on the couch, puzzling over her odd behavior.  She was acting strangely… detached.  There was none of the warm, friendly kindness in her demeanor that he had grown very used to.  In fact, if he was reading her correctly, there was even a hint of fear in her actions…

It took her but a minute to get the kit, and she was soon sitting next to him on the couch, cupping his chin in her hand as she carefully peeled the blood-soaked band-aid off his forehead.  Her frown deepening when she saw the ugly gash, she silently opened the kit on her lap and pulled out an alcohol swab, gingerly dabbing it on the wound.

Inu-Yasha, between wincing at the painful stinging the alcohol caused, snuck quick looks at her, discouraged by her expression.  She was very distant and cold, and was refusing to look him in the eye.  He realized, while trying to catch her gaze, that her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, and he was fairly certain it wasn’t from a hangover like himself.  So… she had been crying?  The horrible feeling of guilt bit further and further into his chest as he watched her.  He even noticed that her trembling had increased since she came inside.

Unable to bear the silence any longer, he asked, “So, what do you say?  Will I live?”  It was an obvious sign he was uncomfortable; he never made jokes.  It was against his melancholy nature.

“If this gets infected, you may need stitches,” she replied stiffly, applying a large fold of gauze and some tape over the cut.  “Just keep it covered, and change the wrappings every morning.  Be sure to clean it with alcohol when you change it.”  Snapping the kit shut, she made to stand, but Inu-Yasha’s hand suddenly shot out and grabbed her wrist, keeping her in place.  She stared at him, her eyes wide with fear.

His heart aching to see her so frightened, he quickly released her, but his own gaze pleaded her to stay put.  “What did I do?” he asked softly.  “I…  I know I’ve done something to you, but I can’t remember…  Please, Kagome, what did I do?”

Swallowing hard, she debated on telling him.  She had only come to his apartment that day to make sure he had enough food last another couple of weeks, and to apologize for the rally.  Then she meant to leave him alone, as he so clearly requested of her the night before. 

Taking a deep breath, she told him what had happened, her voice devoid of emotion.  “You came in and informed me, under no uncertain terms, did you want me here anymore.  You said I was a ‘damn awful nurse’, and that I caused you nothing but trouble, and you hated having me around.  Then you ordered me to leave.  So… I did.”  Then she abruptly stood and went into the kitchen, leaving him sitting on the couch.

Once hidden behind the wall, she sighed and leaned against the counter, her body trembling and her heart fluttering wildly; as much as she hated it, she was terrified to be around him.  She couldn’t help but recall how furious his gaze had been, how harsh his words were, and how much hate he exuded.  To show up at his apartment today at all had taken more courage than she knew she had, but she couldn’t bear to end things without apologizing.

Breathing deep and slow to calm her nerves, she slowly went about putting the groceries away.  She knew that she should probably leave, but, despite her fear, she couldn’t help but take care of a few last things before leaving him to his own devices.  She would put the food away, make sure his coffee was ready, have the newspaper ready for him on the table, and then she would go.  From then on, she could only pray that he would eventually see how much better his life could be without a veil of whiskey covering his eyes.  Deep down in her heart, she knew it would probably never happen, but…

Just as a tear slid down her cheek, she heard him roughly clear his throat from the doorway.  Quickly wiping it away, she turned around, putting the stoic mask back on.  “Yes?”

He was staring down at the floor, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.  From what little of his face she could see that wasn’t obscured by his bangs, she could tell he was beet red.  For a couple moments, he was silent, but finally he blurted out words she had never expected to hear.

“I’m sorry, dammit!  I’m sorry I said those things!  I-I… I was just mad, and too damn drunk to be saying anything!  I…”  Trailing off, he rubbed the back of his head, clearly nervous.  “…I do like having you around,” he said softly, still staring at his shoes.  “You’re not an awful nurse.  You’re a great nurse, and you’ve… you’ve helped me a lot.  More than anyone else ever has.  So please… please stay.”

He swallowed hard once he finished, not daring to look up at her.  He was terribly embarrassed, making an emotional fool of himself like that, but he had meant every word, and if it was what it took to make Kagome to stay, then so be it.

Suddenly, Kagome was on him in a second, her arms wrapped tight around him and her face buried in his chest.  The smell of salt drifted to his nose, and he realized that she was crying.  “U-um…”

“I’m so sorry,” she wept, her voice muffled by his shirt.  “I didn’t know… I didn’t know…”

Feeling very awkward and unsure of what to do, Inu-Yasha jerkily put his arms around her, then almost withdrew, for the action seemed to make her weep harder.  But it felt right, so he tightened his embrace.

“I was afraid of you…” she whispered through her tears, the words cutting into him with a razor-sharp edge.  “Your face… it was so frightening… I was afraid you were going to hurt me.”

He swallowed hard, guilt eating away at him.  She was afraid of him?  That was the last thing in the world he wanted.  “Don’t be…” he murmured, resting his chin on her shoulder and hoping to put her at ease.  “I could never hurt you.  I don’t care if I’ve got ten bottles of booze in me and I’m mad as hell, I could never hurt you.  Who else would be there for me when I woke up?”  There he was going again, emotional fool that he was.  Damn, if Sango and Miroku ever found out about this, he would never live it down.  He heard a sniffle coming from Kagome, and when she spoke, she didn’t sound as choked up as before.

“Besides…” she said thickly, still not quite finished with the tears.  “You’d need me to make you coffee after that.”

A wry grin tugged at his lips, despite his smarting conscience, and he slowly allowed Kagome to pull away from his embrace.  He studied her closely, making certain she was no longer afraid; her trembling had ceased, and a faint smile was beginning to grow.  Putting her hand on the wet splotches on his shirt that her tears had caused, she said, “Sorry.”

He grunted, shrugging his shoulders.  “I need to change clothes anyway.”

Looking up at him, her eyes still bright, she said, “I really am sorry, you know.  It’s why I came back to your apartment last night.  I hate ending the day on such bad terms.”

He sighed, looking away.  “And I ruined it all.  I’m good at that.”

She smiled fully at him.  “No, you just don’t know any other way to deal with such strong emotions.  I can’t blame you for that.  But perhaps, we can work on finding other ways…?”

He growled slightly; that was a conversation he did not want to get into.  “We’ll discuss that later,” he muttered, dropping his arms.

Kagome nodded, clearly getting the hint, and went back to the table, rummaging through the bags once again.  “Well, why don’t you get cleaned up while I put these away and make some coffee.”

“I already made some coffee.”

She glanced up from the box of pasta she had been studying.  “You forgot to pour the water in, and you didn’t put a filter in before dumping the grounds.  I’ll make the coffee today.”

He started to scowl, but the expression eased when he saw the teasing glint in her eye.  “Fine,” he grumbled, turning to leave, he paused and asked over his shoulder, “By the way, how did your review go?”

It was her turn to scowl.  “We’ll discuss that later.”

Nodding, he left the kitchen, but as he walked down the hallway towards the restroom, he couldn’t help but grin.  The sense of relief flooding through him was unlike anything he had felt in years.  For once, things felt… right.

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