Graveyards

for it is a mysterious thing to be reunited with the dead

—

The shovel plunged into soft dirt, lifting it up and depositing it into a small pile. The night was cold and windy, and the digger’s breath blew out in clouds, but her exertion kept her warm and safe from the chill. A well-shuttered lantern sat a short distance away, adding just enough light to the moon’s to see by. Every so often she would pause in her work, her ponytail falling over her shoulder as she tilted her head to the side, listening for any unusual sound that could signify the danger of being discovered. She heard nothing, and the blade of the shovel dug into the loose earth once more.

“My, my, desecrating a grave, are we?” commented a voice, low and husky in the darkness. “I thought you were a woman above such vile acts, Sango.”

The digger—Sango—didn’t start or panic; she recognized that voice, and it seemed that she had almost expected this rude interruption of her night’s work. She thrust the spade into the pile of loose dirt, turning on one foot and facing the speaker with arms crossed. “I thought you were supposed to be dead, Miroku.”

There was a chuckle, and Miroku moved into the circle of light. Sango’s eyes ran over his familiar face, handsome and sculpted, his shining eyes and strong nose, and his mouth, gentle and smiling. His cheeks were clean-shaven, and Sango knew that he had just cleaned up, and that he’d probably been planning this visit for weeks now. How he’d come to know that she’d be here, she didn’t know. She hadn’t told anyone, and robbing graves wasn’t something she did frequently. Regardless, she knew Miroku had his ways with these things, and she had a few ideas as to how he had figured out her plans.

“Dead, Sango? Most assuredly not. I do hope that you didn’t think it was my grave you were digging up, for as you can see, I am very much alive.”

Sango scowled at him. Their last meeting had ended on a sour note, and she wasn’t quite ready to forgive him yet. “I can fix that for you without any hassle, you know.”

“Like you fixed it last time?” He laughed again, still drawing closer to her. Sango stood her ground, as much from her own determination to face him as from the knowledge that a four-foot deep hole was only a few short steps behind her. “Come, Sango. There’s no reason to be so cross with me.”

The wind whipped her ponytail around in snakelike ferocity, and Sango’s gaze was equally dangerous as she watched him saunter closer, his every movement gracefully purposeful. “I never thought it was your grave,” she said. “You’ve been stalking me for the past three weeks. I was wondering when you’d finally work up the guts to face me.” She changed topics abruptly. “I’m here to reacquire something that I lost.”

Miroku’s lips curved up secretively, the way they always did when he thought he was going to be able to surprise her. He lifted his hand, a long chain dangling from his fingertips, the golden charm glimmering softly. “Something like this?”

Sango’s eyes flicked over it before returning to his face. “Where did you find it?”

His arm lowered, and he poured the long chain between his two hands thoughtfully. “You know, stalking is such a harsh word. I was merely shadowing you, making sure that it was safe for me to approach you.”

“Which is why you broke into my apartment three times last week when you thought I was asleep, and four the week before that. It’s why you’ve been at the café across the street from my work at lunchtime, not to mention on the same subway car on my ride home wearing that ridiculous disguise. No, Miroku. That is stalking.” She took a step towards him, her voice lowering into a threatening whisper. “Now answer the question, Miroku.”

His eyes studied her for a long moment, trying to understand her cold, almost hateful anger. It didn’t take long. Sango was not the sort of woman who kept many friends. She liked her solitude and had always been hesitant to trust, both due to her personality and her way of life. It had taken him nearly three years to just begin cracking her shell, and now all of the shields were back up. His disappearance, his supposed death, had hurt her badly. That he had let her believe it when he’d been alive and well all along... to Sango, that was the ultimate betrayal. Add the fact that he had trailed her for so long, as though she wouldn’t notice, it was no wonder she was so furious with him.

Yet she didn’t hate him. If she hated him, she wouldn’t be here, searching for the necklace she’d given away when circumstances had given her no choice but to pawn it off.

The necklace that he had given her.

The chain flowed between his palms like water once more before he caught it with both hands, unhooking the clasp. He closed the distance between them, reaching his hands around her neck to lock the chain there. His touch against the back of her neck suggested more than just the simple, innocent act of clasping the necklace for her, a suspicion affirmed when his grasp settled on her shoulders. “I got it back a short time before...” He hesitated, shrugged. “Well, you know when. I never got the chance to give it back to you.”

“Stole it back, you mean,” Sango snapped, but she didn’t move away from him. If anything, she seemed to want to be where she was, with Miroku so close, but it was a reluctant desire.

She’d forgive him eventually, Miroku knew, especially if he had anything to say about it.

He gave her a smile that wasn’t the least bit guilty in nature, drawing her closer and using one hand to tilt her head to where he wanted it. “Now, now, don’t go incriminating me, my dear. I don’t want to have to get started on what I’ve seen you do.”

Sango’s scowl grew more pronounced. “I don’t do that anymore.”

“The evidence in your home office would suggest otherwise, you know.”

She let out a sound of indignation.

“You bastard! Going through my things!”

Miroku leaned in and kissed her then, soft and long, making her forget her anger for a moment. She shivered in his arms, remembering all the times he had kissed her like this and in other ways in the past, wondering how he would kiss her again in the future, now that she had him again. Miroku kissed her the way a man kisses a woman when they’ve been separated for far too long, the way he’d dreamed of kissing her for three long years. And when he was done, he kissed her again, just for good measure.

When they parted, his grin was softer than before, pleased that she hadn’t pushed him away. “I was only in your office for a little while. Your underwear drawer was so much more interesting.”

She frowned at him, displeased. “I can’t stand you sometimes,” she informed him, matter-of-factly.

He gave her an amused glance, whispering his reply into her ear and making her blush like she always did when he said those three little words—some things never changed. Then his mouth was crashing against hers again and the world was spinning and everything in Sango’s world was right again.

“I thought I’d lost you,” she murmured against his lips desperately, and she knew that for all of the wrong he had done her, she would always forgive Miroku in the end. “I thought that, when I saw you again, I was hallucinating, imagining things, and when I realized that I wasn’t, I didn’t know what to do.”

And then he was pulling away, slipping out of her arms and away before she could open eyes, and vanishing into the darkness of the night.

But he’d be back. He always came back.

Sango touched the gold charm at her throat fondly, a smile touching her pretty face for the first time that night. Then she turned and picked up her shovel, recovering the resting-place of the woman who had owned her necklace for a short time, but who hadn’t worn it to her grave. Or, maybe she had. Miroku hadn’t specified where he’d stolen it back from.

Done with her work, Sango set the shovel over her shoulder and took her lantern in hand, heading home.

The smile never left her face.

—

For Queenizzay