A/N: Voices isn't dead or anything, don't worry. I have a small bout of writer's block and I had to get it out my system. This is probably a bit abstract and confusing but hey, sometimes my fingers have to roam around the keyboard before I can focus again. Feel free to review.

Refuge

Little hands. Dirty face. A broken smile. Perfect.

In that childlike way that all children are, brimming with innocence. And in a sense-

Ignorance.

Bliss.

And he makes angels in the snow and he spells his name. How witty he is.

Because he doesn't have to be strong. Because father is strong for him.

And he is sweet for mother.

And in that childlike way he thinks that forever starts now.

Until night falls.

And by the time the sun rises he is no longer a child.

And only nine, only nine.

But nine is too old and he must brace himself, because mother is tired and sleeps so peaceful. For so long.

And father is gone. And it hurt.

It. Hurt.

But no one will ever see him voice this emotion, because he has the world to bear.

And how can he do that on broken shoulders that would shake with sobs?

So he buries the fear with his mother and cuts the strings to his heart.

So that he won't feel.

But he can't stop himself from remembering.

So he forgets instead.

He watched from the safety of the trees as the little bastard made angels in the snow and spelled his name.

And hugged his father.

And loved his human mother.

And knew nothing of him.

Until that day where he had turned to watch no more and felt little hands tug on his sleeves. He looked down at the dirty face and broken smile-

"Will you play with me?"

The voice was small and quiet and lonely.

And for the first time, he raised an eyebrow, questioning the question.

The boy squirmed. "I'm a half-breed." He announced quietly. As if eager to get past this point, because everybody else cared. And hated.

So he wouldn't care or hate. He could pretend for the sake of a brother.

At least for a while.

Night fell. Years passed.

And father left.

Leaving behind the mess again. The pieces were too small to pick up. Fragments, shrapnel, splinters-

Shards-

That his brother would see in everything for the rest of his life.

He stood with the half-breed at the grave, after everyone else had gone home. Watched his tiny fists clench in hate. And would not-

Could not-

Grace him with words.

"He never came," the half-breed said quietly. He was choosing anger over sadness and it suited him well. He would need it to survive. "She was sick and she cried and all she wanted was to see him and he never…he never…"

"Do not break, Inuyasha." He managed to say. It was the most important advice he could ever give.

Inuyasha growled and swiped at him with his dull claws. He took it standing, and didn't move even when the warm blood trickled down his cheeks like the tears the half-breed could not cry. Like the tears he too had failed to form when the earth was still fresh over his mother.

"Get out of here!"

He turned to go.

"I hate you! I hate you both!" Inuyasha screamed at his back.

The screaming continued long after he had gone.

He felt like his father.

And now…there are no more nights in his world.

She smiles when she sees him and there is only sun.

And for a second he wishes he didn't cut his heart strings.

So that he could feel it.

She tugs on his sleeve and her fingers are small, her face is dirty, and her smile is broken.

Perfect.

And he will protect her. Always.

And be there when she needs him. Always.

Because he has a duty to never see it happen a third time.

And he needs that.

To be.

Like the good father that he isn't.

End