He shivers when he sleeps, the weight of her death moving across his shoulders, causing him to shake. She doesn't touch him, scared that her own trembling will wake him up. She doesn't sleep, always waking just before any nightmares can hit her, self-preservation letting her stay away from dreams. He doesn't dream, exhaustion driving them away. But he moves, restless, a shadow lurking at the back of his mind. She wants to hold him and let him know that things will get better. But she can't, her hands won't move no matter how much she tries to force them.

She knows his grief is worse than hers, knows that he misses Kikyo and loved her more than she could ever understand. She knows that he loves her too, that he misses her when she leaves for her world. She can't help but wonder what would have happened if she had died, if the roles had been reversed and Kikyo was the one next to him. Would she comfort him? Would he mourn more? Less? She wonders if it's possible to measure the grief one feels for their loved ones. If you grieve more for your friend than your lover. She wonders which one she is counted as.

But she shouldn't compare them because in the end they were different. She knows this, their similarities ended with their looks; they were two distinct people and meant different things to him. She tries, they both try, to feel happy for their friend, knowing that she is finally content. But it's just so hard and she blinks rapidly to get rid of the tears.

He quivers again, a tremor that twists his face and she knows that he loved Kikyo, loves her still. She reaches out to him, her hand brushing his face and she is surprised by the wetness that she finds. He stirs but doesn't wake, moving closer to her. His cold nose nuzzles her hand, he looks like a sad puppy. He was so much closer to Kikyo.

She gently puts his head in her lap, strokes his ears and smiles as he seems to relax. It amazes her that even in sleep he can be tense, be ready to wake and fight in an instant. She worries for him, for what this death will do to him. He didn't let her or Sango stray far from camp earlier and while the girls had fought it they were against all three boys and so they had lost horribly. Sango had been growling the entire night, Kagome has simply been to tired to care either way. She doesn't like this new overprotectiveness, or at least the higher level of it.

He suddenly lets out a small cry, an almost-whimper that she can barely hear but still manages to tear at her heart. He moves toward her warmth, his hand wraps around hers when she offers it to him. She watches the sunrise and can feel the light prickling her skin, a bird gets food for her nest, somewhere someone else is mourning for someone they loved. Someone is celebrating the birth of something they already love.

The world moves on and so will they.