Mikazuki Tsuki here with a new fic. The title is upsetting me though. It's too unoriginal. It's after this amazing Savage Garden Song, though the song doesn't really describe what's going on. (I go through song stages I love random bands for a week or so and obsess over their songs. Don't ask why...) I'm on this Trapt/Savage Garden rampage. Last moth or so was Bobby Valentino. It's actually really fun.

Disclaimer: Not my characters, not my title, not my song, but it's my plot.

Summary: "Sango I don't know what to do... I keep having this dream..." She was hysterical and she knew it, "Don't tell me to calm down! This guy is about to die..."

Truly Madly Deeply

Prologue

It was obviously a dream by the fuzzy edges and unclear images.

A young woman, with mid-back length raven hair, and blue eyes, stood off to the side. The only person that was noticeably clear in the scene.

Noticeably out of place.

Her name was Kagome Higurashi, an ordinary young woman, who worked simply as a teacher. She let out a silent whimper as the scene began to unfold.

A graceful woman in her mid twenties hugged her husband from behind, "Love, dinner is ready. Why don't you take a break?" She smirked into the material of his shirt when he consented with a reluctant nod.

Her husband was a gorgeous man. Gifted with cropped silver hair and amber eyes, that on anyone would look freakish, he made work. Agreeably he was a bit indifferent and cold at times, but he was wealthy beyond belief.

His father, Dr. Inu Taisho, had passed on equal shares of his fortune to both of his sons. And equal ownership of his hospital, renamed I&S Med.

The couple had been married not even for a month.

Kagura Nikimoto, a prominent lawyer. Typical Coca Cola bottle figure, and almost perfect porcelain skin and ruby lips, she was a raven haired, pink eyed beauty.

She had married Sesshoumaru Taisho, after a year of dating.

How they met wasn't really known.

She didn't even know herself everything about them was lost to her.

That was possibly the only piece of their lives the media had not been able to get their hands on.

They sat down to dinner. Kagura wasn't an exceptional cook, but she knew her way around the kitchen.

Tonight was pasta. Simply a meaty sauce over noodles.

She was forced to follow them into the dinning room, and she looked with silent dismay as the familiar events passed by. There was no place they went that her dream body was allowed to stay behind from.

Every thing they did she had to see.

He gave her a small smile, which she returned brightly. Kagura suddenly laughed sheepishly at his grimace, when he sampled the food, "It might be a little bitter. Kaede suggested some herbs that 'reduce changes of heart failure.'"

Lies...

She rolled her eyes fondly at the 'miko' house keeper 'antics'.

Sesshoumaru said something...

His lips moved but no sound came out.

Kagura smiled, and her eyes glistened in the candle light.

Wine accompanied the meal, crimson liquid the color of blood. Halfway into the meal, Sesshoumaru sipped his and again when he spoke, nothing was heard.

He set down the cup and rubbed his eyes.

Kagura clucked her tongue. "Tired aren't you?" Sesshoumaru frowned, almost as if saying, 'I don't get tired.' But his following yawn proved otherwise. "Come on. Go up to bed. I'll take care of the plates and meet you up there."

He merely nodded and went up the stairs.

Chuckling she cleared the plates, and mocked, "Is my little, Sesshy sleepy?" She snorted, "Well you should be. I spent forever grinding those damn pills. I'm glad to know my labor paid off."

Kagura leisurely washed and dried the dishes, not rushing at all.

After the last plate was put away, she searched the kitchen drawers.

Inside was a long, chef's knife with a ten inch blade.

Her eyes caught her reflection in it, and she gasped. Her eyes filled with tears and she dropped it as if it burned her.

She was about to kill her own husband.

Her body shook.

Not for the first time, Kagome felt hope. Misleading hope.

She was about to back away from the fallen silverware, but a man- his face was overshadowed- but long inky locks fell over his shoulders.

He turned and smirked at her, as if he knew that she was there.

He said something to Kagura now, and she continued to sob but now instead, of forgetting her previous quest, she continued on, deathly pale.

Once her hand touched the handle of the knife, both women were brought upstairs within the time span of a blink.

Kagome reached out to stop her from opening the door, but her hand fazed through the dream image.

She slid open the door of their bedroom.

There was no need to flick on the lights, for every now and then, the night sky would be illuminated by a streak of lightening, and the room would turn a murky blue.

With each flash, she'd get closer to their bed.

Closer to him.

Kagome began to sop and covered her eyes. The sounds of her sobbed did not fill the room. It seemed one capable of making a sound was Kagura.

Still gripping the knife, she crawled on to the bed.

—In lonely hours ...
... —The tears devour you

As she reached the sleeping form that was Sesshoumaru, her pale hand reached out to caress the side of his face. She leaned into to kiss him, her lips pressed against his for a moment.

"I really did love you, Sesshoumaru, but it has to be this way."

Her hands moved to her ears to muffle the sounds of what she knew was coming, and her eyes clenched.

And the knife was in her hands and moved to straddle his waist.

Her eyes were flung open and her hands forcefully pried off and placed next to her sides.

And the knife rose and plunged deep.

And the knife rose and plunged deep.

Again and again.

Silver met the pale immaculate skin of her spouse and crimson stained the bedding.

And she fell over him regret washing off of her in waves.

"Goodbye, Love."

Kagome stared at everything her, expression a heart-wrenching sight.

And it was over.

­—

A scream pierced the air as the woman who could not have been any more than twenty five years old, woke up, crying.

She screamed again hysterical, "No," she cried out her small fists pounding against the pillows, "No," she let another screech before she was reduced once more to incoherent words and tears.

She had had the same dream everyday for the past week, but every time she woke up, she would forget their names, forget their faces. All she would remember is the blood and the tear and the amber eyes.

(Tsuki)

Eek. Was that confusing at all to anyone?

Worst idea yet, n'est-ce pas? (I have a French oral quiz Monday or Tuesday and I'm trying to include a lot of French in my daily life so my pronunciation isn't too mangled heh...)