InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ A Purity Short: The Fairy Tale ❯ Sisters ( Chapter 8 )

~~Chapter Eight~~

~Sisters~

 

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:Edinburgh, Scotland, UK:

:Thursday, December 8, 2061:

 

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“What about this one?”

 

Morio wrinkled his nose and shook his head, checking his watch as he tapped his foot impatiently. “It's a doll, just like the last doll and the doll before that. It's wonderful. It's great. She'll love that one.”

 

Meara leveled a no-nonsense look at him and arched an eyebrow. “You said you'd help me Christmas shop for Aislynn,” she pointed out calmly.

 

“I did,” he agreed, “this morning . . . and that was hours ago . . . Don't you think you've bought her enough stuff? I mean kami, the toy store is going to have to deliver this stuff, and then you'll have to hire someone to tote it all out to that damned fortress your screwy father calls `home'.”

 

Meara turned back to the two dolls she was holding. “This one pees, and this one says `mama' when you squeeze her.”

 

“And that one,” he said, pointing to another doll on the shelf, “does both.”

 

“Yeah, but her skin isn't as soft as these two.”

 

He chuckled. “Then get her both.”

 

“You . . . wouldn't mind . . .?”

 

He shook his head. “Nope . . . if you want to fill her room with dolls, then go right ahead,” he quipped.

 

She leaned up to kiss him on the cheek and smiled sweetly as she carefully set both dolls on the growing pile in the shopping cart. “You're so sweet.”

 

“I know,” he allowed with a sigh. “I am . . . I really am . . .”

 

Meara giggled, grabbing the ends of his scarf and tying them tightly around his neck.

 

Morio choked and made a face as he pulled the ends loose once more. “Trying to choke me . . . figures . . . heartless wench that you are.”

 

“Heartless, am I?” she shot back.

 

He nodded. “Aye, that you are,” he said in a horrible affectation of a Scotsman's brogue.

 

“You know,” she remarked lightly, hanging onto Morio's arm as he pushed the overload of gifts down the aisle, “I never had a doll.”

 

“Never?”

 

She shook her head and laughed, but her eyes looked a little sad. “My father said that dolls were for children.”

 

“But you were a child,” he pointed out.

 

“Yes, well, he never did realize that . . . probably still doesn't.”

 

She didn't see his scowl as she turned to examine a set of porcelain play dishes.

 

`The bastard . . .'

 

Morio sighed. In the two years that Meara and he had been living together, he had yet to hear a damn thing that could raise his opinion of Ian MacDonnough. Though she didn't like to say anything that would amount to badmouthing her father, she'd let things slip from time to time, and the things she said invariably left Morio wondering just how someone like him could have possibly become tai-youkai. It was unconscionable, really. Maybe he hadn't ever physically abused Meara, but the isolation and sadness she'd experienced as a young girl was more than enough to convince Morio that the man bordered on completely unfit, and though there had been plenty of times when Morio had wanted to tell Meara that he'd had enough of their clandestine love affair, he knew in his heart that it was just as bad, if not worse, for her . . .

 

`A couple more years,' he told himself, uttering a resigned sigh as Meara smiled at the rows and rows of toys. She wanted to wait to tell anyone about them until Aislynn was five, figuring that it'd be best since the girl would be old enough for school then. She was almost three now, and Morio felt that he knew her as well as Meara did since Meara did so love to brag on the child . . . He'd seen pictures aplenty of her, too. From what he could tell, she looked like a tiny version of Meara, though Meara had confessed that she had no childhood pictures—an idea that had turned Morio's stomach.

 

She'd moved in with him on the same day that he had awakened to find her in his room, staring under the sheet at his naked ass. She'd fallen asleep, and he'd gone over to her apartment, grabbed all of her things in a succession of trips, and when she'd opened her eyes to find a flower on the pillow beside her, he had just finished putting her clothes in the closet with his. In the end, she'd just smiled at him and pulled him down for a long, slow kiss. They'd made love the rest of the weekend, stopping only when necessity demanded. Those first few months had been completely idyllic. Meara always teared up when he said that he loved her. It wasn't that he made her sad, she'd said. It was that no one had ever told her that before . . .

 

So Morio made it a point to tell her that he loved her every day, showering her with constant affection, and maybe he was trying to make up for everything she should have had growing up. She didn't seem to mind, though, and Morio . . . well, he'd never complain about that, anyway.

 

No, the main trouble they had weren't things that Morio felt comfortable telling her about. Little things, really, like her refusal to as much as touch him once she'd had her shower before she left to drive out to Nightsboro . . . That always burned him though he always smiled and tried to hide the upset that never failed to turn his stomach. Once she'd almost forgotten her shower, and Morio had been tempted to let her. In the end, he'd heaved a sigh and called her back to remind her before she stepped out the door. `Washing off my scent . . . but she can't wash off all of it . . . Is her father so unobservant that he's never noticed that she doesn't smell quite like she used to . . .?' Unfortunately, he didn't have any real answers to that, either.

 

Holidays were also fairly abysmal affairs. She'd go to Nightsboro, leaving Morio alone for the long weekends and the special days that should have been shared by the two of them. Of course he understood. Aislynn needed her. Still, he hated carrying her satchel outside and packing it into the trunk of her car with whatever goodies she'd managed to procure for her young sister. He'd smile tightly and then spend the bulk of their time apart feeling guilty for being jealous of a child who only had her sister's visits to look forward to . . . She'd promised, though, to spend the Christmas holiday with him this year. It'd be their first one together, and Morio couldn't wait. His mother and father were flying in from Japan—they'd never met Meara, and Morio just knew they'd adore her—and Meara was looking forward to meeting them, too.

 

And then there were the visits from Paul.

 

Morio hated those worst of all. True, Meara had been able to make excuses a number of times as to why she couldn't see the overbearing bastard, but the handful of times that she hadn't been able to talk her way out of it had left Morio seething, and when she'd come home smelling like him because he'd had the audacity to slip his arm around Meara's shoulders? He'd wanted to kill Paul, no doubt about it. The only real consolation was that Paul never stayed more than a day or two at best. Edinburgh was just not a happenin' sort of city, Morio supposed, and for that, he was grateful . . .

 

He sighed, shaking his head as his conscience got the better of him again. Meara was trying to please everyone, and he knew it. He knew why she felt the way she did, and he understood why Aislynn was so important to her. He hated the idea that he'd be angry over anything when Meara was so frightened that she would be disowned in the end. To be honest, Morio hadn't really believed her, but after almost two and a half years, he had to admit that he was beginning to understand why she'd feel that way . . .

 

“You know, I never had a doll,” Meara's voice echoed in his head.

 

Morio grimaced, smashing his teeth together so hard that his jaw ticked. `Damn that old bastard,' he growled to himself. `Damn him . . .'

 

Meara held up two sets of dishes for Morio's inspection. He forced a smile. “What's her favorite color?”

 

Meara smiled. “Pink, of course.”

 

“Of course . . . then I'd say you should buy the pink ones,” he said reasonably.

 

“Okay,” she agreed with a happy little giggle. “I guess we're done . . .”

 

“Yeah, I'm not helping you wrap this stuff,” he informed her as he headed down the aisle once more.

 

“I like wrapping presents!” she insisted. “Though I may need to borrow your finger when I tie the bows.”

 

“Su-ure,” he drawled, stopping in the shortest checkout queue. “You'll tie me into the presents and give me away as a Christmas gift.”

 

“I'd never give you away,” she argued as a pretty blush stole over her cheeks.

 

Morio chuckled. “You would if Aislynn said she wanted me for Christmas,” he predicted.

 

“Well, that's true enough . . . You're sure you don't mind if I go up there tomorrow?”

 

“What's one birthday when you're spending the entire Christmas holiday with me?” he quipped. “But you're going to be up all night wrapping that stuff.”

 

“True enough,” she agreed. “You could stay up and keep me company.”

 

“Bite your lip, wench. I have classes in the morning—unlike some people who are going to play hooky tomorrow.”

 

Meara giggled, slipping her arms around Morio's waist with a happy sigh. “I can't believe we're almost finished with graduate school,” she mused.

 

“I don't know. Maybe you should stay in school,” he pointed out.

 

Meara wrinkled her nose. “Should I, now?”

 

“Maybe . . . might have to if your father gives you grief about moving home again . . . If you're still in school, he'll leave you alone, right?”

 

Meara stiffened in his arms, and Morio sighed. He could have kicked himself for bringing that up . . . “Let's just concentrate on the holidays, hmm?” she said with a tight little smile.

 

Morio leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. “Your wish is my command, ma-a-ahstah . . .”

 

She giggled and pushed herself up on her tiptoes to kiss him. “You're completely incorrigible . . .”

 

He chuckled, tightening his arms around her and lowering his lips to hers. “I'll show you incorrigible . . .”

 

The man behind them cleared his throat. “Not to interrupt, but, um . . . she's waiting,” he said, nodding his head toward the cashier.

 

Morio let go of Meara and started emptying the cart onto the conveyor belt while Meara burst into a fit of giggles.

 

`Yep,' Morio decided, sparing a moment to appreciate the sparkle that lit Meara's gray eyes. ``Tis the season . . .'

 

 

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Reaching over to turn on the windshield wipers, Meara pulled herself forward on the steering wheel to glance up at the graying sky and wrinkled her nose. She hated to drive while it was snowing, but it hadn't started until she'd left Edinburgh . . . even then, Aislynn was probably waiting, though Meara rather hoped that the child wasn't doing what she normally did: standing outside in the middle of the driveway as she waited for Meara to arrive. She'd started doing that about as soon as she'd learned to walk, and while Meara loved seeing her sister waiting for her, she often worried about it when the weather in the Highlands was known for its unpredictability.

 

She turned her head to check her rearview mirror, catching sight of the pretty doll with the shiny brown hair sitting on the seat beside her. Childish, perhaps, to have brought the toy, but Meara hadn't been able to leave her behind.

 

Morio had gone out to get dinner while Meara was wrapping the mountain of gifts they'd purchased for Aislynn, and while he was gone, he'd stopped by the toy store again. His smile had been a little shy when he'd returned with the brightly wrapped birthday present in his hands, and he'd insisted that she should have it, even though they'd agreed to celebrate her birthday after she got back from Nightsboro . . .

 

She'd gasped when she'd seen the doll. Maybe it was impractical, and maybe it was childish, but she held the doll against her chest, unable to stop the flow of tears that coursed down her cheeks. That he'd buy her something as silly as a doll was something that touched Meara's heart. Her first doll, and how fitting was it that he'd been the one to give it to her . . .?

 

He'd seemed genuinely surprised when she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him with everything she was worth before grabbing his hands and dragging him back to the bedroom . . .

 

“So I buy you a doll, and I get mind-boggling sex in return?” he'd teased when they lay cuddling in the middle of the sweat-dampened bed.

 

Meara giggled, leaning up to kiss his chin. “Just this time,” she assured him.

 

He chuckled as she scooted off the bed and darted out of the room to grab the doll before crawling back into his arms once more. “What are you doing?” he asked, kissing her temple as she settled back against his chest.

 

“She came with three dresses,” Meara stated. “I want to see how she looks in the other two.”

 

“Look . . . she drinks and wets, too,” he pointed out, holding up the tiny plastic bottle for her inspection.

 

“She does? Did you buy diapers for her?”

 

He laughed. “No, I didn't, but I can if you want them.”

 

“What do you think, Morio? Yellow, pink, or blue?” she asked, holding up the dresses for his inspection.

 

Morio wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling the side of her throat. “What? Are you mad? Yellow, of course . . . something damn sexy about a girl in a yellow dress . . .”

 

It took her a moment to realize that he was talking about that fateful morning when she'd climbed through his window. When she did, she smiled. “Yellow, it is,” she murmured, carefully dressing the doll in the yellow gingham confection of lace and ruffles and ribbon.

 

“I want to have babies with you, Meara . . . lots of babies . . . seeing you fat and round . . . I could handle that,” he mused.

 

“Oh? That doesn't sound very flattering,” she pointed out.

 

“It's flattering,” he argued, “and when you get too fat, I'll just roll you around the house.”

 

Meara giggled. “Your lines aren't getting any better,” she remarked, wrinkling her nose.

 

“You don't think so? How about this one? Your teeth are like stars . . .”

 

Meara blinked and leaned back to smile up at him. “That's so sweet . . .”

 

He grinned, a wicked light dancing in his gaze. “. . . They come out at night.”

 

“Morio!” she gasped then giggled, grabbing a handful of his hair and tugging playfully.

 

Morio leaned to the side, nabbing a flower off the nightstand—he'd had it in his hand when she'd dragged him back to the bedroom. “Here's your flower of the day. I think it's a repeat . . .”

 

“Hmm, you must be losing your touch,” she teased . . .

 

Laughing softly to herself as she drove down the lonely stretch of road that meandered between the sharp cliffs and crags of the Highlands, Meara sighed softly, flicking off the radio as she reached for the button on the console and pressed it down. “Morio,” she said precisely and let go of the button as the tone of the number being dialed sounded in the vehicle's speakers. He'd be home from classes now . . . and Meara . . . she missed him.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hi,” she greeted, smiling at the sound of his voice.

 

“Miss me already?” he deadpanned.

 

“Yes.”

 

“You're entirely co-dependent,” he informed her then chuckled.

 

“Am I? Then that's your fault.”

 

“I'm sure it is . . . are you on your way home yet?”

 

Meara laughed since she'd just left Edinburgh a couple hours before. “I just left, and you know it,” she chastised.

 

Morio heaved a melodramatic sigh. “Yeah, I know . . . I was just hoping you'd changed your mind and were coming home.”

 

“It's just for the weekend.”

 

“Yeah . . .”

 

“I'm almost there,” she said with a little sigh. “I'll miss you.”

 

“Well, good,” he drawled. In her mind, she could see him leaning against the counter with his ankles crossed and that little grin on his face. “Be careful. The forecast said that there's a pretty big storm moving in.”

 

“Yes, well, nothing will keep me from coming home,” she assured him.

 

He paused for a moment then sighed. “I love you.”

 

“I . . . I love you, too.”

 

She clicked off the intercom and sighed, too. She hated leaving him for any length of time, and yet she adored seeing Aislynn. It was a futile wish, and yet she couldn't quite help it, either. If she could just be with both of them at the same time . . . That was what she really wanted . . .

 

The two youkai guards that had forever stood watch over the gates that led to Nightsboro stood at attention, nodding as she passed. The long and winding driveway had been cleared of snow though Meara didn't try to delude herself into thinking that it had been done for her. Her father was an important man, and it wasn't uncommon for the various European leaders to converge here. Europe had more generals than most other regions, she supposed. It was more diverse, both in history as well as in language that it was impossible not to have a separate general for each of the various countries. She had never actually met any of them, not even Paul's esteemed father. It didn't matter to her. Meara wasn't looking to have a future in Europe, anyway.

 

The tiny form in the middle of the semi-circle drive caught her attention, and she frowned. It was much too cold for Aislynn to be waiting outside, yet there she was and without a coat, no less . . .

 

Stopping the car, Meara hurriedly unfastened her seatbelt as she turned off the engine and stumbled out the door.

 

“Meawa!” Aislynn exclaimed, dashing over to hug her sister as a bright smile broke over her features.

 

“Oh, sweetie,” Meara chided, shrugging off her coat to wrap her sister in it. “You'll catch your death of cold out here.”

 

“I wait for you!” Aislynn said proudly, peering out from the folds of Meara's coat and sticking out her hand, balled into a fist other than the index finger she held out straight. “One day . . . see?”

 

“I see you did,” Meara agreed, shivering slightly from the chill winter air. “I brought your Christmas presents,” she coaxed. “Why don't you run in the house, and I'll bring them to your room?”

 

“I can have them now?” Aislynn demanded, tugging on Meara's arm.

 

Meara laughed. It was impossible to remain chagrined with the child, especially when Meara knew that Aislynn had been waiting just to see her.

 

“I can help! I'm big!” Aislynn announced, sticking her arms through the cumbersome sleeves of the much-too-large coat.

 

“Just go on in,” Meara said. “Wait inside the door for me.”

 

Aislynn skipped away, long strands of chestnut brown hair flying out behind her in the wind.

 

Meara retrieved the two huge bags of presents and closed the trunk with her elbow. She could come back for her luggage later. Turning toward the house, she smiled, seeing Aislynn's tiny face plastered against the window beside the door.

 

`This weekend with Aislynn . . . and then my first real Christmas with Morio . . .'

 

Meara's smile widened as she headed toward the hulking stone edifice.

 

 

-=-*-=-*-=-*-=-*-=-*-=-

 

 

“Why aren't you going to be here for Christmas?” Aislynn asked as she carefully pulled a silver comb through her new baby doll's hair.

 

Meara shifted her legs to the side and slipped her claw under a plastic band that held the wheels of the doll carriage in place. “I promised I'd spend the holiday with someone special,” she explained.

 

“I'm special,” Aislynn said, her bright silver eyes round and sober.

 

“Of course you're special, but he's special, too . . . a special friend . . .”

 

Aislynn wrinkled her nose, her gaze turning a little sad as she looked around at the load of presents Meara had brought her. “I want a special friend,” she finally stated with a shrug of her thin shoulders.

 

“You want to see him?”

 

Aislynn nodded. “Yeah.”

 

Meara smiled, pushing herself onto her hands and knees and stretching her arm out to snag the strap of her purse. Cycling through the images stored in her cell phone's memory, she laughed softly at the image of Morio, one ear straight up while the other was bent to the side. “See?” she said, holding out the device. “That's Morio. He's my friend.”

 

“Morio?” Aislynn repeated, gingerly reaching out to take the phone from Meara's slack fingers. “He's got puppy ears!”

 

Meara laughed. “Yes, he does.”

 

Aislynn's smile turned bashful, and she dropped the phone before scooting back against the bed.

 

“You don't think he looks nice?” Meara prompted.

 

Aislynn nodded. “He can be my friend, too?”

 

Leaning to the side, Meara snagged Aislynn around the waist, drawing the nearly three-year-old into her lap and idly smoothing the ruffles in Aislynn's skirts. “I'm sure he'd love to be your friend, too. Anyway, I think it's time for you to go to bed. What do you think?”

 

“You can sleep in here,” Aislynn said hopefully.

 

Meara nodded. “If that's what you want, Aislynn. Let me go change, and I'll be right back, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Aislynn agreed, hopping to her feet and reaching over her shoulders in a vain effort to unbutton her dress. Meara had to press her lips together in a thin line when the little girl started shuffling around in circles in an attempt to better reach her buttons, a look of intense concentration marring her brow.

 

“Come here,” Meara said, pulling Aislynn over and unfastening the dress. “Now put your nightgown on, and I'll be back to brush your hair before bed.”

 

Aislynn skipped over to the immense oak dresser, pulling out the bottom drawer to use as a step so that she could reach the top one. Satisfied that Aislynn wasn't going to hurt herself, Meara shook out the discarded dress and hung it on a hook beside the door before slipping out of the nursery and into the hallway.

 

“Meara, a word,” her father said, striding down the hallway from the master suite at the end of the hall.

 

“Yes, Father?” she said, turning to face him, hands clasped demurely, eyes cast down toward the floor in the subservient pose that Ian tended to favor from his daughters.

 

Ian grunted. “It has come to my attention that you will not be here for the holidays.”

 

“I thought it'd be best,” she replied quietly. “I wanted to start looking for a job . . . I mean, this is my last year of school . . .”

 

“Unacceptable,” Ian barked tersely. “I expect you to be here.”

 

“But—”

 

Ian arched an eyebrow, his expression turning even more foreboding. “You will be here, Meara—end of discussion. You needn't concern yourself with finding a job, anyway,” he went on, his tone leaving no question as to what he thought of the idea of his daughter looking for gainful employment. “You'll be mated by the end of June, and no daughter of mine will work,” he said, curling his lip as though the word was a curse.

 

“Wh-what?”

 

If he noticed the anxiety in her voice or the alarm in her expression, he didn't remark on it. Brushing some non-existent lint from the sleeve of his immaculate jacket, he shook his head. “I've arranged for the formal announcement of your engagement at the New Year's Eve soiree.”

 

“But I—”

 

Shifting his cold stare on her, he narrowed his eyes. “End of discussion, Meara. Is that understood?”

 

Swallowing hard, she nodded, hating the sense of intimidation that stopped her from arguing further with him. “Yes, Father,” she whispered.

 

Ian nodded once before striding past her toward the stairwell.

 

It didn't take long for Meara to change into her nightgown and tiptoe back down the hall to Aislynn's room. Morio was going to be furious, she didn't doubt, and he had every right to be. She'd promised that she'd spend this Christmas with him, and now . . . he was going to be angrier than he'd ever been, she didn't doubt, and when he found out why she had to be here . . .? `He's going to kill me . . .' she sighed.

 

Aislynn was already asleep when she slipped into the room. Huddled in the middle of her bed with all of her new toys piled around her, she looked like an angel, didn't she?

 

Meara smiled wanly as she carefully pulled the blankets up to tuck beneath Aislynn's chin. In her sleep, she smiled, too.

 

A slow sense of panic welled up inside Meara, and she knelt beside the bed, letting her face drop into the cradle of her folded arms. She felt like she was coming undone, shattering into a million pieces—one for every lie she'd had to tell . . .

 

`I . . . I . . . can't do this anymore . . .' she thought suddenly.

 

`It's getting too difficult, isn't it . . .? Hiding everything you and Morio have . . . it's difficult, and it's unfair of you to ask it of him, too.'

 

She squeezed her eyes closed and gulped. She'd wanted to wait a little longer to try to explain things to Aislynn, but maybe . . . maybe she really couldn't . . .

 

She could only pray that one day Aislynn could understand . . .

 

 

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A/N:

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Final Thought fromAislynn:

Puppy ears …!

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Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Fairy Tale): I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga. Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al. I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.

 

~Sue~