Well, I'm back with a new story. I gotta say, this one was a tear-jerker. I cried through almost the whole writing process. My glasses are messed, its nuts. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little ditty, and sorry I haven't written anything in so long; my ideas kinda dried up there for a while. Anyway, enjoy. BTW, I wrote this story to the song Breakaway by Kelly Clarkson, so for extra-salty tears play that while you read, lol. A good cry is good for the soul.

Disclaimer: I own the plot. Sue me for that and we're gonna have words.

Break Away

Life was never easy.

Inuyasha Takahashi knew this all too well. At twenty-three, he lived alone in a third-floor apartment in a dingy neighbourhood, in a cramped, polluted city, bustling with people who'd as soon as stand on your face as smile at you. It was a lifestyle he'd grown accustomed to, over the last few years alone.

He could barely remember a time when he had been happy. As a child, he been the second-born brat of an alcoholic father and a soft-spoken, fragile mother. His older brother had had little to do with him, and as he grew and Sesshoumaru visited less and less, their estrangement was complete. They had not spoken in over ten years, and Inuyasha preferred it that way.

When his parents had died in a fatal car crash (due to his father's intoxication, of course), his brother had settled their estate and Inuyasha had inherited a measly sum of money, after the payout to the other woman whom they'd hit. He had taken that, sold the house, and moved from the suburbs into the city, and found a low-paying job cleaning a factory after hours. His life wasn't exciting; though, it never had been, either.

What little money he made went to rent, food, and cat food for a cat that had run away.

Life was never easy.

The day she moved in next door, it was raining. There was little to no noise, and she had barely any possessions. He watched silently from behind his door, the peephole providing more than enough privacy for him to see without being seen.

She was a slight little thing, five foot nothing, and maybe a hundred pounds. He'd never seen such a fragile girl… even his mother was more robust than this tiny woman attempting to lug a dresser through her door. Another woman was there to assist her, but no one else seemed to be around.

Curious, he opened the door, and just as he did, she finally pushed the dresser over the threshold far enough to close the door behind her. He stood there, staring, noting a slightly saline scent hanging in the air.

Two more weeks passed before he saw her again.

None of the other neighbours on their floor knew her name. No one had heard a sound. No music, no banging, not even a TV. He had to admit, he'd wondered if she was alive over there until darkness fell. It was then that he alone heard the coughing.

Life was never easy. For anyone, it seemed.

The following day, Inuyasha stepped outside his door, locked it, and headed for the stairwell, but his curiosity got the better of him. Shyly, he forced himself to work up the nerve to knock on her door.

The old lady across the hall opened her door a crack and smiled encouragingly at him. He tried to pretend she wasn't watching so he'd not lose his nerve and bolt.

"Who is it?"

Her voice, muffled from behind the door, was as soft as cotton ball. It was weak, quiet. It was sad.

"Um, it's your neighbour, next door."

It took her a moment to open the door; he assumed she was trying to see through the peephole, without much success. The door opened a crack, and a pair of doe-brown eyes stared back at him, framed by long, feathery lashes. Her eyes were extraordinary.

"Yes?"

He stared. She opened the door a bit further.

Coughing in embarrassment, fully aware of old Mrs. Barrett's eyes on them, he replied, "My name's Inuyasha Takahashi. I just wanted to welcome you to the building."

She smiled slightly. Even this small concession was breathtaking on her too-pale, too-thin face.

"Thank you. I was beginning to wonder if I was the only person who lived here."

He smiled back, warmed by her response. He was going to take his leave then, but from the corner of his eye, he saw Mrs. Barrett close her door, discreetly giving them a small measure of privacy; he knew the old lady would still be watching through the peephole. He decided to be impulsive.

"Would you like to come over tonight?"

Her smile disappeared. He back-pedalled, hoping he hadn't said something to offend her. "Of course, if you don't want to…"

A sad look came over her. He noted her thin arm, just visible through the crack of the doorframe, the bones protruding sharply, stretching her white skin till it was almost translucent.

"I'm sorry," she said, opening the door a tad wider. "I'd like to come over. But would you mind coming here instead?" She tiredly brushed her hair off her forehead. "I'm Kagome, by the way. Sorry I left you hanging for so long. I just… I'm kinda having a bad day, you know?"

He smiled gently into her face, holding out his hand to shake hers. "I understand, Kagome. Anything you want will be just fine."

Her grip was weak, and her hands freezing cold. She smiled again, and he looked at his watch.

"I'm sorry, I'm holding you up."

"Oh, no. I'm just a bit late for an appointment, nothing to worry over. I should be going though. How does eight sound?"

"Good." She nodded once, and closed the door a fraction.

He grinned. "See you then."

She nodded again, and quietly closed the door.

He walked down the stairs, pleased with how their first meeting had gone. He'd not expected to have a date so quickly, but perhaps he wouldn't consider tonight a date. More of a get-together, really. Still, he grinned like an idiot all the way to the doctor's office. It seemed things were looking up. Finally.

He returned home to his apartment, with a clean bill of health. He usually abhorred going to see the doctor, but today… was different. There was a sensation in his gut, a butterfly, that seemed to vibrate with anticipation. He couldn't remember ever having felt excitement quite like this before.

Time crawled by. Occasionally, he heard Kagome cough next door, but no other noise came through the thin walls. He found he was anxious to get to know her. What did she do for a living? How old was she? Where was she from? Was she good at anything?

At six he realised he had nothing to bring with him; his mother had always taught him to never show up empty-handed. He ran down to the store on the corner and bought a small bamboo plant, and a cheap bottle of wine, flashing the cashier his ID before impatiently paying and running home again. Her apartment was as quiet as ever.

At seven-thirty he could wait no longer. Checking his teeth in the hall mirror, satisfied they were clean, he practically ran next door, and knocked once more, juggling the wine and the plant in one arm.

He almost knocked again when the door clicked open, revealing the small girl within. Her smile was knowing.

"Sorry I'm so early," he apologised.

She laughed, breathy, a whisper. "That's okay, Inuyasha."

His name on her lips sounded like heaven to him. He barely contained the surge in his heartbeat.

She opened the door wide enough for him to slip through. "Come in."

Her apartment was warm. Closer to hot, really. He wondered how high her heat was; too high for early summer.

He turned back to her, lifting his arms. "I brought you a house-warming gift." He held out the bamboo plant to her, and she took it in her small, delicate hands.

"Thank you. That was so thoughtful, Inuyasha."

He felt a shudder ripple under his skin as she said his name again. She walked into her tiny kitchen, and he noted just how thin she really was.

She wore a long green shirt, baggy, so he couldn't see her hipbones jutting out, or count her ribs, but her legs and arms where spindly enough that he didn't have to see her without the shirt to know that there was nothing to her. Her hair, though long, was limp and dull, though she'd managed to make it cooperate in a high ponytail. Her feet were dainty, and as she padded over the linoleum he noted no discernable noise of her passing.

Her black leggings completed her ensemble, which mated a pair of black earrings that dangled from her pale ears. Her eyes sagged.

She placed the plant on the window above the sink, where it was sure to get lots of sunlight, and turned back to him, her breath slightly laboured. He smiled at her, despite his observations.

"Would you like to sit down?" she asked.

"Absolutely," he replied, too quickly. Her smile grew fractionally, as if pulling her facial muscles in a full-fledged smile was difficult for her.

She led him around the corner to her living room, where there was one couch, one chair, one table, one small TV, one lamp, and one window. He sat beside her, on the opposite end of the white couch. Her apartment was almost bare; he glanced around, his curiosity raging.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she said, slowly getting up again, "I forgot to get you a glass for that wine."

He jumped up too, noting her deep breaths, and the slightly sick smell that permeated her home already. "That's okay. Are you going to have some? I brought it for you," he chuckled. "Where do you keep your glasses?" He could see she was tired. She must have had a long day, doing what, though, he couldn't imagine.

She sank back down onto the couch, a small smiled on her grateful face. "Thank you. Above the sink."

He was back in a few seconds, and handed her a glass of the cheap wine, re-seating himself next to her. His curiosity could wait no longer.

She sipped delicately as he asked, "So, Kagome. Where are you from?"

She set the glass down on a coaster and folded her hands in her lap, reluctantly meeting his intent gaze every now and then. "I grew up in Iwo Jima, but I moved to the city to be closer to my sister."

He nodded conversationally. "I've been there a time or two. How's the wine?"

She nodded once. "Good. Tangy."

He laughed. "I didn't think you'd like the hard stuff, just a hunch."

She glanced at him. "You're right. It's just too strong for me."

"What do you do for a living?"

She fidgeted, her bony fingers, slightly broader at the tips than his own, curling into her palms, hiding. "Well, I, uh… don't have a job. I never have."

He frowned a bit. "How do you pay rent?"

She looked at the floor. "My sister pays it. I used to live with her, after our mother…" she trailed off, and he could see moisture brimming her tired eyes, and he moved closer, cautiously resting an arm over her shoulders and giving them a slight squeeze. Her bones felt like glass.

She sniffled, and again he thought he heard a rattling in her breathing, a thickness. "It's okay, Kagome, don't cry. If I'm being too nosy feel free to tell me to butt the hell out."

She sniggered a bit, and wiped her eyes, reaching for her glass and taking a generous mouthful, swallowing loudly. "I'm sorry," she apologised again. "I just get very emotional when I think about my mother. I loved her very much."

Delicately, he asked, "Did she die?"

Kagome nodded once, as was her habit, it seemed. "When I was very young. She was very sick for a long time."

Suddenly, Kagome coughed. Inuyasha moved his hand to her back, but she lurched up from the couch, and casting him another apologetic look, she weaved toward the bathroom, and closed the door behind her. She coughed laboriously for fifteen minutes before silence fell again on both their ears.

When she emerged, she was red. Her face, her arms, her hands, were red from coughing so hard. Her lips were red, too, and a sheen of moisture dotted her forehead.

She sat down, slowly. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, shaking her head weakly in a self-deprecating manner. "That's all I seem to be able to say to you, Inuyasha." Her voice rasped like sandpaper.

He felt a deep, unselfish emotion for her that he was having a hard time putting a name to. She cast her eyes at him, and in their brown depths swam a secret, a vulnerability that was as plain as the beauty on her small, worn-out face. It dawned on him then why she was the way she was: Kagome was very sick.

She seemed to see when realisation dawned on him, and she looked to the carpet with a sigh. This was usually how it went. Boy meets girl, girl likes boy, boy figures out girl is sick… boy runs. Old news.

Inuyasha felt a cold hand wrap around his heart and squeeze. In a subdued, small voice, he asked, "Are you going to die?"

She closed her eyes, unable to look at his handsome face. She barely knew this man, yet there was more feeling, more concern, more tenderness in his quiet question than she'd known in a long time. Her sister was supportive, of course, Asani always had been. But she'd watched Kagome grow up, getting weaker and sicker as time passed her by, and, when she began having her own children, Kagome became too much for her to handle. Kagome understood; her sister had looked after her long enough, and she knew that something had to give.

Asani had fought long and hard to keep Kagome from moving out, denying her hardships and saying she would deal with it, but Kagome knew better. Her sister's eyes were strained; every time Kagome coughed through the night Asani was there, holding a handkerchief to her sister's face to catch the mucous as Kagome's body fought to expel it, to clear its airways; she was there despite her own children's cries for their mother, assuring Kagome that her husband could handle them.

When the mucous began to run bloody, and Kagome was up several times a night in coughing spells, she knew the time had come for her to leave. Asani had lost the fight only because she knew Kagome couldn't tolerate high emotions for too long; it brought on longer, more violent fits, leaving her younger sister drained and exhausted. Asani worried about Kagome, living all alone, but Kagome had acceeded gratefully to an alert device that immediately notified Asani when she was in trouble or unable to control her condition. Grudgingly, she'd helped her sister find, move into, and furnish her small apartment in this dingy building six blocks away from her own home.

Kagome brought her thoughts back to the man sitting so close beside her, concern making his eyes cloud over.

"Yes," she whispered, her throat raw from her episode. She sniffled, embarrassed to admit to him her frailty. She'd long ago accepted her fate; Cystic Fibrosis wasn't something that just went away. It never went away. Eventually, it killed you.

She heard his breath leave him abruptly. Apparently he hadn't been expecting her answer.

Inuyasha felt his gut tighten. He felt so angry at himself; he'd been so unconcerned this morning, having returned from the doctor, perfectly healthy. And Kagome… Kagome, this small, delicate, beautiful girl… his neighbour… his friend… was dying. And he sensed that there was nothing he could do.

Life was never easy. For some, this was more true than even he'd dared to imagine.

Kagome and Inuyasha had spoken softly long into the night. When she grew too tired to sit, he'd pulled her back to rest against his chest, and rubbed her frail arms slowly, comfortingly. She'd told him what she had, when she'd first experienced the symptoms… everything. She told him her hopes, her dreams… Her desire for the many children she would never have… Her regret for the places she'd never see. And he listened, intently, supportively… lovingly. Neither could understand it, but in the small time they'd spent in each other's company, they had fallen in love.

For the first time since she could remember, Kagome slept through the night without one coughing spell.

The next morning brought more rain. Inuyasha opened his eyes to a strange room, with a slight weight resting in his lap, and memory rushed back to fill his mind like a wave, slipping into every corner and saturating every nerve.

A key turning in the deadbolt in the door brought Kagome into awareness again, her eyes brighter than they'd been in years. Her back felt warm, and if she listened hard, she could hear another heartbeat behind her own.

Asani opened the door and said, "Oh! Kagome, I didn't know you had company."

Inuyasha smiled at the newcomer. She was short, round, and cute as a button. He could definitely see the resemblance between the two sisters, despite Kagome's sickness.

Sitting up with Inuyasha's help, she replied, "Asani, this is my next-door-neighbour, Inuyasha. Inuyasha, this is my sister, Asani."

Asani hitched her purse up her shoulder and reached out to take Inuyasha's proffered hand, shaking it firmly, yet briefly. "Nice to meet you, Inuyasha."

He nodded. "Likewise."

She smiled, but her manner became business-like as she addressed her sister again. "Kagome, it's time for your shower. Do you need a moment?"

Kagome nodded, her cheeks becoming a lovely pink in spite of their ashen hue. Inuyasha smiled. Kagome smiled back, cringing.

He chuckled. "I understand. No boys allowed." He rose, bringing her with him. He was surprised again by how little she seemed to weigh.

"Thank you," she whispered, and Asani took her other hand, giving Inuyasha a significant look as she did so.

"I'll see myself out. It was nice meeting you, Asani."

Asani nodded absently, sparing him a parting glance, and steered Kagome toward the bathroom. Kagome stared at him the whole time. Bye, she mouthed.

He smiled, and closed the door softly behind him.

Leaning his back against the door, he let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. The air out here seemed fresh, clear, after the stuffy, salty, hot smell of Kagome's apartment. He thought of their conversation last night, and suddenly felt angry at having felt sorry for himself for so long. He hadn't realised how good he had it until Kagome had showed him otherwise. He had never taken into consideration his health before; it seemed petty, trivial. Until he'd met her.

Opening his own door and locking it behind him, he went to his bed and lay down on the mattress, contemplating how his whole life had shifted in the course of twenty-four hours. This time yesterday he was a selfish, self-pitying idiot who looked at life through bitter eyes; today, he was someone else. Someone who, given the chance, had someone to help him see what he didn't know he was overlooking.

Kagome.

Her name melted over his brain like honey, coating it in a love-coloured haze of contentment. He'd never felt so confident about anyone as he felt about her. She needed him, and he wanted to be there for her. It felt almost wrong not to fall madly in love with her gentle, doe-brown eyes, her delicate frame, her salty scent… her brilliant, self-sacrificing personality. She was so good, Kagome was. Her body wasn't sick, to him - it was just too good for her to bear, that was all.

She needed him. She'd never had to say a word but he was willing to give up his life and commit it into her care, her keeping. In the back of his mind, a small voice reminded him that maybe he needed her, too.

Through the wall, he heard water running, and squeaks against a bathtub. He realised his bed was directly adjacent to her bathroom.

Asani's voice was clear to him as he heard her help her sister into the tub and begin washing her.

"Kagome, you know better than to let some stranger into your apartment that you barely know. Do you even have any idea how easily he could have taken advantage of you last night?" Her voice was critical. He frowned, he would never even think of doing such a low-down, disgusting thing as taking a woman against her will!

"Asani, don't say that," he heard Kagome rasp. "Inuyasha's not like that."

"How do you know? You just met him."

"So? I just know. I wouldn't have let him in if I thought otherwise, you know that. He's nice. I like him very much."

Her words warmed his chest.

"As if you could have kept him out. If he'd wanted something from you, Kagome, there would be no way for you to stop him. It scares me when you make a rash decision like this, you know that." Asani's tone had gone from patronising to pleading. "Does he know…?"

Kagome sighed. "Yes. He knows. Asani, I know you think I'm stupid, but honestly - I felt a connection with him last night. The look on his face… it wasn't disgusted, or disappointed, or put off. It was… " Here Kagome trailed off, and he heard her sniffle as Asani sprayed her head with water.

Asani sighed, too. "I know, Kagome… I know." Her words were resigned, but understanding. "You love him, don't you?"

Kagome let out a sob. "Please don't hate me, Asani. Please. I just… I can't do this alone, I… just can't."

Asani's voice was thick, and shook when she answered. "I could never hate you, Kagome. I may not agree with you, but I won't fight you. I'd do anything for you, you know that."

Kagome coughed. "Thank you, Asani… for everything-" She broke off, coughing deep and dry, a racking cough. Inuyasha cringed, and felt his eyes grow moist. She was suffering more than he'd thought.

Asani comforted her sister, and he listened, wishing it were he rubbing her back, washing her hair… holding her close in his arms. He closed his eyes, and tried to make himself believe he was doing the right thing by her.

Over the next few months, Inuyasha began to spend more and more time with Kagome. She told him about her whole life, and he told her about his. She smiled when he recalled anecdotes from his youth, and he watched her grow paler and weaker. Soon he took to sleeping in her bed with her, holding her close; his touch seemed to keep the coughing fits at bay, and the ones she did suffer were short and non-violent.

Eventually he moved in with her, taking a leave of absence from his job to take care of her. A nurse was hired to check on her every day, and after they'd lived together for two months, Kagome was permanently hooked to an IV line. She pulled it around their small space with her, from the bed to the bathroom to the window, where she would sit in the sun and watch the world go by. Asani came by often, but her visits became less and less frequent as Inuyasha slowly assumed her duties. Asani came by to visit now, not nurse. It warmed her heart to see her sister find someone to love before her life came to an end. Kagome had gone without the love of a soul mate for far too long. Her life was approaching its end so quickly… and Asani felt so powerless to stop it. They all did. But Kagome had long ago accepted her fate and for the sake of Inuyasha and her sister, she smiled as often as she could. She smiled through the painful, bloody coughing, the digestion problems, the infections, the headaches, and even when she became too sick to stand, and lay confined in their bed, she yet smiled.

Inuyasha had watched her come into his life in a small, brief glimpse of delicate sunshine, and he was watching her slowly leave it, the helplessness eating away at his heart like a cancer. He bought her a ring and slipped it on her skeletal finger, and she smiled as long as she could before falling asleep, as she did most of the time now.

A year slowly passed, and so did she. Inuyasha held her thin, fragile body to his heart every night, dreading that soon he would wake and she would not. A ventilator helped her breathe, its ticking and clicking no longer heard by either of them, so used were they to its constant sound. Her nightstand was covered in bottles, spare tubes, Kleenex, water glasses and creams for preventing bedsores. The slightest activity made her gasp for breath, and when she slept, her lungs rattled and choked, fighting to continue flooding her blood with oxygen.

Asani had asked him if he wanted to move her the hospital, so he might be relieved of his constant watch, but he refused. She barely spoke anymore, the effort exhausted her, but she'd expressly told him she didn't want to die in a hospital, because she was sick of them. Asani nodded; she would respect her sister's wishes. Inuyasha had grown to be more than just a friend to her: he was her soul mate, her caretaker, her rock. And she was his.

Two weeks after New Years' Kagome took a turn for the worse. When he had seen to her every need and there was nothing more he could do for her, he would crawl into their bed with her and wrap her in his arms, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, stroking her hip, which jutted out starkly against her pyjamas, and spin tales of their life together when they met again. She would sniffle, and tears would run unchecked from her silent face, her breath straining to continue. She would close her eyes and squeeze his fingers so he would know she heard him, and his hot tears would trickle onto her neck and remind her that time was so short, and she hated it. Time was a cruel thing; unstoppable. No rewind, no pause. Time marched on, with or without you.

Asani closed the door quietly. She had received Inuyasha's call from Kagome's Medic-Alert pendant, and as she rounded the corner to the living room, in which Kagome's large bed was the dominating feature, she knew it was over.

Inuyasha sat on his chair, next to her bed, her limp hand clutched tightly in his. Tears ran unchecked down his face, and he sat still as a statue, staring lovingly into her serene face.

"Inuyasha?"

Asani had been expecting this. They all had. But she had been preparing herself almost as long as Kagome had; she was ready to face this part of Kagome's life. The end. Her final days. Her eyes became hot with the tears she'd promised herself she'd control.

"She's so beautiful, isn't she," he whispered, stroking her cooling knuckles gently, as if any more pressure would break her papery skin. For the first time in a long while, the sounds of the machinery were absent.

"Yes," Asani replied, pulling up a chair from the kitchen table next to his, and setting her purse down on the floor. "She always was the beautiful one. In every way."

They sat together in silence, simply watching Kagome's still face. Her passing had been gentle, unhindered. There had been no sound, and Inuyasha had been glad he'd been sitting there watching her or he would have missed it. He'd watched her come into his life, and he was there when she left it. He had no regrets.

Asani asked, "How long?"

He knew what she meant. "Twenty minutes ago. She smiled, before."

Asani reached around him for tissues on the nightstand, and wiped her eyes and face. His tears were dry now, but his eyes were red-rimmed and turned down at the corners. She hadn't noticed it until now, but there were a few wrinkles there, around his eyes, even though they'd just celebrated his twenty-fourth birthday four months ago. They were etched there from sadness, despair, but most of all, from happiness.

She laid her hand on his shoulder, and pulled him toward her. Reluctantly her turned away from Kagome, but he never dropped her hand.

"Oh, Inuyasha," Asani sobbed, breaking her promise to herself about staying controlled, "I'm so sorry."

He rubbed her back with his free hand and replied, "So am I. So am I."

At length, she released him, and wiped her nose and eyes again. "She made me promise to give this to you… after." He looked at her, his eyes blank and sad. A tinge of curiosity winked there, but only dimly. It was still too fresh. She reached into her purse and withdrew a simple, plain, yet somewhat thick envelope.

He took it, slowly, and stared at it.

"She loved you so much, you know. You were her angel, Inuyasha. Thank you." Asani got up and strode from the room. She went out into the hall to make the necessary phone calls.

Inuyasha felt the weight of the letter in his hands, but did not open it. He laid it aside, and continued to do what he loved the most: stare at her face, and memorise her. While he still had the chance.

A month after the funeral, Inuyasha was cleaning Kagome's and his apartment. He took the IV apparatus and ventilator back to the HMO they'd been rented from. He threw away all the empty pill bottles, and recycled the ones that weren't yet used up. He folded Kagome's clothes and replaced them in her dresser.

He stood in the bathroom, staring at the mundane things that littered the sink: her toothbrush, her perfume, her deodorant. All her possessions, even the trivial things, seemed to loom in his mind like a brick wall, barring him from any other thought. He went to the kitchen and turned her favourite glass in his hands; he sat in her favourite seat by the window, stared at the glass, saw nothing.

Finally, when it became too dark to see without light, he got up and turned on the bedside lamp. There, on her pillow, lay the letter.

He didn't recall having set it there, but he shrugged, and, indulging in some long-overdue self-pity, he crawled under the sheets and breathed in her still-fresh, salty scent. It brought wrenching sobs from his chest, and for a long time he did nothing but clutch her pillow to his face and cry.

Finally, when the tears ran dry, and his eyes were scratchy and sore, he opened the letter. It was neatly written, for her at least; he could tell where she'd had to put the pen down and rest. The words swam before his eyes before he could force his raw eyes to concentrate.

My dearest Inuyasha,

Please don't mourn over me. I know that's an impossible thing to ask, but I wish you will try. I hate to think of you wasting away after I'm gone. I love you too much to want that for you.

You must find love again. It will be hard; I won't pretend that I would be unable to do anything long after you were gone, were our situations reversed. Still, I hope you will try. The last thing I want you to do is forget me, but nor do I wish for you to languish. Please, don't hate me for asking you to do this. I only want what's best for you, as you have always wanted what's best for me.

I will never stop loving you, Inuyasha. I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me, and even as I write this I know that what you will have to do, no one should ever have to do. Yet I know you will because you are my angel. I was lost until you came to my door. The time I've spent with you has been the best time in my entire life; I will leave it satisfied with every moment you have ever given me.

I will wait patiently until I will see you again, my love. Though our time together was short, it was fuller than if we'd spent a lifetime in each other's arms. Perhaps, its brevity is what makes it more poignant. I love you so much, my darling, it would crush you to feel its full gravity, and I miss you already.

Love you forever.

Kagome.

He could see the stains on the page where her tears had soaked into the ink, blurring it slightly. A photo fell into his hand from the envelope, a photo of them, two months after they'd first met. He'd no idea who'd taken it, though Asani was a prime suspect. He and Kagome were staring into each other's eyes, and the love they shared was plain for all to see. He clutched the picture to his face and lovingly kissed her half of the frame.

He knew one day the pain would ease. Not completely; he didn't want that. But eventually it would fade and he would move on. Of course, no matter what happened now, no matter how old he grew to be, no matter when or if he ever fell in love again, he would wait, just as she, patiently, until they could be together again. Until then, he would cherish her memory, and remember her always, as she'd been when they'd first met: pale, frail, and brilliant in her mind and in all the love she'd had to give.

Her memory would always live on… in his heart.

Until we meet again, my love…

Life was never easy. But it was the hard parts that made it worth living.