A/N: Anyone out there ever wonder if people actually read these things? Hmm. Well, I highly recommend this artist: Vienna Teng. She is exceptional.

Disclaimer: If I owned Inuyasha I don't think my college's student account services would constantly be up my ass. I don't own Vienna Teng's "Love Turns 40" either.

There is a line in the story from another one of her songs, and I don't own it either.

"Whatever You Want"

She's holding a secret that she'll never tell.

She's holding a secret that she'll never tell,

Because the myth is not supposed to retire

We'd rather it lit itself on fire or overdosed in a 4-star hotel.

She's holding a truth that she'll never reveal.

She's holding a truth that she'll never reveal,

Because truth this time is an ugly child,

And mother and daughter may reconcile

But their faces will never heal.

"Don't go," she says but he's sleeping—

She says it to herself: "Don't go,"

She sees herself rising,

Packing her suitcase with all of her shoes.

But something keeps you faithful

When all else in you turns and runs.

Love turns 40

The morning comes

She's holding a secret that she'll never tell,

Because we were once cinema gods in the night,

And now all we've got is lunch-hour light

Where nothing photographs well.

"Don't go," she says, but he's sleeping—

She says it to the dark: "don't go."

She sees herself rising,

Dressing in silence for nothing to lose.

But something keeps you faithful

When all else in you turns and runs.

Love turns 40

The morning comes

Everyone always seemed to look at her and Sesshoumaru as if they were the golden couple: a paradigm of drama, romance: of life. They were clashing and vibrant; they were vivid and fluorescent. Both seemed to be beautiful and successful; both were stubborn and argumentative.

Their life together never once seemed to be dull.

Friends, family, the people in their local supermarket—all of them expected them to either live together forever in total passionate bliss or to end up killing each other. So when the relationship slipped into oblivion slowly over a long period of time, no one ever expected it and the relationship ended without a real notice. Many believed it had never ended and that they were merely separated for one or more reasons—and the two lovers liked this development.

She moved back to her hometown and let him keep the secluded, lavish lifestyle of the large city he became accustomed to. And she kept the secret—the whole damn thing.

She never once told anyone the truth about the breakup that didn't really fit their relationship; she never whispered a word about the silent acquiescence in the dark.

She never whispered a word to anyone, except for her mother and brother, about the child she carried in her womb when she left.

Occasionally some old acquaintance from her forgotten life would meet her in an airport or café and they would smile with pity behind their eyes, thinking that she was still attached to the man who flitted about town with different ornaments on his arm. Kagome did the same—she smiled and pretended that the break-up had never taken place. Then she would go home and lay on her bed with her treasured memory, her tiny little girl, and she would remain faithful to the memory of the man she loved.

Through the years they kept in contact. He would call her to see how she was and she could hear the inflection of his voice that seemed to say, "Don't tell. Don't end the fairytale." And she would lightly smile, turning hers lips up even though she knew he couldn't see it through the phone, and she would agree silently.

But as much as they tried to avoid each other, fate has its own destiny to fulfill. The poorly planned play collapsed quietly in an airport waiting area they just happened to be in. His flight had a connection with a long layover; her leave had been delayed due to her daughter's plan to meet her at the same airport. Her little girl, not so little anymore at twelve, and her ex-lover both seemed to eye each other in the bookstore, the café, and then the hallway to the waiting area for Terminal A.

She sat engrossed in a book until her daughter sat silently beside her and asked if she had enjoyed her last trip and if they would enjoy the next destination. She half-smiled at her, assuring her of her happiness, before returning to her book.

She looked up once, twice, and then on the third time she finally saw the golden eyes gleaming angrily at her from across the terminal.

Her eyes dropped to the printed pages again ad her face flushed and her heartbeat quickened. She had promised to never tell her secret, but he had found her out. What do I do? Her mind screamed, but even then she was reacting; pulling her daughter out of her seat and gathering her belongings while motioning toward a ladies' room to her right. She fled the tension. She fled discovery.

What do I do?

The incessant ringing of her phone ten hours later was no surprise—she had just landed and she figured he knew that. He had always known her each and every action before she moved.

"Namie, could you please go to that café there and grab us some drinks? We have a long drive to the hotel, no doubt. Traffic is always bad here." Her daughter, so kind and quiet and nothing at all like her parents, smiled and nodded before taking the offered money and running across the new terminal they were in.

She opened her phone with a click. "Hello Sesshoumaru."

"Do you have anything you wish to explain, woman?" His muffled voice contained the same undertone, this time contradicting his words: Don't tell. Please.

And she smiled, and she quietly agreed with his unspoken request.

"No." I don't know who you are anymore. Don't ask to see her when you don't want to know her.

"I would assume I have fathered a child—a child you could have told me about years ago." Tell me it isn't true.

"Assume what you will. Namie is my child. There is no father listed on her birth certificate." I didn't tell. I kept my secret, so don't flash it about.

The line was cut off. Silence met her ear.

Namie returned with coffee and water. Kagome smiled at her daughter and they quietly left the airport. She would be faithful to her love.

Her daughter, none the wiser to the tension and heartache her mother was experiencing, skipped toward the exit. She smiled at the man with the eyes so like hers—but his seemed so haunted—but never once broke her rhythm.