InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 10: Anomaly ❯ Contentment ( Chapter 13 )

~~Chapter 13~~
~Contentment~

~o~


"So, you think that they're going to make you get a court order to access those files?  Doesn't that seem a little suspicious?  You'd think that they'd want you to prove that there wasn't anything going on, wouldn't you?" Gunnar remarked, leaning back in his office chair in the stark but spotless office in the youkai special crimes division.

Mikio adjusted the computer on the table in front of him.  "Yeah, basically," he replied, rubbing his forehead as the throbbing that had been lingering in the back of his head all day slowly escalated by degrees.  "I just wondered if you had any ideas—you know, given that you're known for being fairly ass-tastic . . ."

Gunnar uttered a soft chuckle.  "I'll take that as a compliment, Mikio.  You could try intimidation.  It usually works, especially if it's a fat-around-the-middle, receding-hairlined-bureaucrat that you're trying to put the hurt on . . ."

"I'm not really good at that, either," Mikio said.  "I'll give Cain-nii-san a call—see if he has any judges that might owe him a favor."

Gunnar grunted, tapping his claws on the desk.  "Could send Bas-the-bulldozer over . . . He could put the fear of kami into the old man, if you'd like . . ."

Mikio made a face, uttered a wry chuckle of his own.  "And give the man a heart attack?  I think that'd work against me, actually."

"What the hell are you volunteering me to do now, Gunsie?" Bas growled.  Mikio heard the groan of a chair as the big man sat down, but he didn't enter the video frame until Gunnar turned the monitor.  "Oh, hey, Mikio . . . I was about ready to fax over a list of some good security firms that you can call to get quotes for Maddy's place."

"What's wrong with Maddy's place?" Gunnar asked, arching an eyebrow at Bas.

Bas snorted indelicately.  "She's got an alarm on her door, sure, but that's about it.  No autolocks on the windows, nothing, and her fire escape is attached to the building across the way."

"Are you kidding?  Huh . . . Can't say I noticed any of that . . ."

"When were you over there?"

Gunnar flicked a hand dismissively.  "It was awhile back, Bas.  Not a big deal."

Bas snorted.  "You brought it up . . ."

Mikio rolled his eyes, shot the monitor what should have been a rather impressive scowl, if either of them had bothered to notice it.  They didn't.  It figured.  "I'll call nii-san," Mikio said, interrupting Bas and Gunnar's discussion.  "Send me that list, Bas, thanks . . ."

"Okay," Gunnar replied.  "Give me a call if you need anything else."

The connection ended, and Mikio sighed.  Leave it to those two to let themselves get completely sidetracked, anyway . . . Put together, it was a miracle that they got anything done at all, he figured.  'Completely useless, the both of them . . .'

It didn't take long to call Cain.  He didn't answer, so Mikio left him a message, dropping the phone onto the array of papers littering the coffee table with a sigh.  He slipped his hands up behind his neck, digging the pads of his thumbs in hard—usually it helped.

It wasn't helping this time.

The door opened, closed, as the feel of Madison's youki swept over him.  He heard the sound of her purse and keys, thumping onto the table by the door, the soft click-thud of her shoes as she kicked them off.  "Mikio, hey . . . Are you all right?"

He sat up, let his hands drop to the sides, forcing a smile strictly for her benefit as she pulled off a couple of bangle-type gold bracelets and let them clatter onto the stand next to her purse.  "Fine," he said.  "How was work?"

She waved a hand dismissively, bracing her hands against the small of her back as she arched backward to stretch.  "It was great," she said, sounding a little distracted.  "Met with my interior design team, discussed the feel that I'm going for in the new spa . . . Boring."

"What kind of feel are you going for?" he asked.

She laughed.  "Aspen cool," she replied as she headed for the stairs.  "I'm going to go change out of this . . . Do you want to go grab some dinner?"

"I just ate some leftover pizza, so I'm good.  I mean, we can if you want to . . ."

Her voice was muffled.  "Did you save me a slice?"

"One."

"Good enough."

He chuckled, reaching for the papers scattered on the table to straighten them all back up again.

She ran back down the stairs a couple minutes later wearing a pair of tiny shorts and a rather baggy Zel Roka tee-shirt, and she paused long enough to smile at him before striding past him on her way to the kitchen.

His cell phone rang, and he reached for it with a sigh, trying to keep his head turned far enough to watch Madison's retreat.  "Izayoi," he said, answering the call without bothering to check the caller ID.

"Mikio, I got your  message.  You said you needed a favor?"

Letting out a sigh that had as much to do with having lost track of Madison as it did with the phone call itself, Mikio grabbed a pen off the coffee table, drumming it idly as he considered the question.  "Yes," he said.  "I'm having some trouble, getting them to agree to let me have access to the server files, and I need them because whatever changes were made to the documents that Gavin turned in happened while they were on the company's server.  It's looking like I'm going to need a court order to get them to comply.  I can file a petition myself, but you know how long that kind of thing can take . . . Can you help me out?"

"Wow, that is a favor," Cain allowed.  "You obviously need one issued in New York City, right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," Cain said.  "I'll see what I can do. Give me a day or two, though.  That one's a pretty tall request.  I'm sure I can arrange it, but it may take some doing."

Mikio chuckled.  "You mean, there aren't youkai, lining up around the block to do a favor for the tai-youkai?"

"Maybe," Cain replied with a laugh.  "You'd be amazed just how many of those I've burned through with Evan over the years, though . . ."  He heaved a very weary sounding sigh.  "That would be a lot funnier if it weren't so damn true, too . . ."

"Well, Evan's always been a little . . . different."

"Which is a lot more diplomatic than most people would say," Cain added.

Mikio couldn't help the small smile that played on his lips.  "Anyway, I appreciate your help in this."

Cain grunted.  "Given that he's my daughter's mate?  I'd like to see Gavin cleared as soon as possible, too.  Now, assuming I can get you what you need, you think that'll be enough to clear him?"

"If I can find the proof I need on the server files, yes," Mikio said.  "I . . . O-O-Oh . . ."

"Mikio?"

He couldn't help the small sigh that slipped from him as Madison's fingers pressed against his temples, working in slow circles and alleviating the dull throbbing of the headache that had plagued him for most of the day.  Her touch was so soothing, so calming . . . The immediate effect was nearly overwhelming—almost enough to send him right off to sleep . . .

"Mikio?" Cain repeated, a little louder, a hint of alarm, in his tone.

"Oh, uh, huh?" he muttered, blinking rapidly, trying to shake off the effects of her ministrations.

"Mikio, are you all right?"

"Uh, y-yeah," he stammered.  "Just, um,  a . . . a headache."

Cain grunted.  "If you're sure . . ."

"Yeah, I'm good," he sighed, eyes drifting closed for the second time.

There was a very pregnant pause before Cain heaved a sigh.  "I'll get a hold of you after I make a few calls, work something out.  You need a subpoena to gain access to any and all private servers used by the company, right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay.  Not a problem."

The line went dead, and Mikio dropped the device on the table before flopping against the back of the sofa with a heavy sigh, letting himself enjoy Madison's undivided attention.

"A headache, huh?" she murmured, alternating between small circles and very steady strokes.  "You poor thing . . . Do you get these kinds of headaches often?"

"No, not often," he replied, struggling to make himself speak.  "Just, when I do . . ."

"They're severe," she finished when he trailed off.

"Mmm."

He didn't see the frown that surfaced on her face, didn't catch the worried glint that lit in her gaze as she continued to massage his temples, the sides of his face, all the way down along his jaw and into his neck, and even though those areas weren't affected by the headache, the attention she paid to those areas helped, too—helped more than anything he'd ever tried for relief before.

"Where did you learn to do this?" he asked—at least, he thought he did . . . He wasn't entirely sure, caught as he was, somewhere between the awake and the haze of early slumber.

She laughed softly.  "I took classes while I was in beauty school—Evan paid for them, actually . . ."

Mikio snorted, shaking off the lingering bout of sleepiness.  "Why doesn't that surprise me?" he muttered.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"I think you're a little too close to that little pervert," Mikio admitted.

She choked out another round of laughter.  "He's not a—Well, okay, you're right . . . He is . . ."

He grunted, not entirely pleased her with ready agreement, either . . . "Mmm," he half sighed.

"Would you like me to light a few aromatherapy candles?  They really do help," she offered.

"No, this is good . . ."

She laughed.  "You're sure?"

He nodded.  Maybe.  He tried to, anyway . . . But her gentle touch was entirely too soothing, entirely too nice to credit . . .

The last thing that he could remember as he drifted off to sleep was the a soft sigh, almost more of an insular breath.

It sounded entirely content.


"Hel lo?"

"Hi, Maddy . . . How are you?"

Smiling at the sound of her mother's slightly husky but very happy voice, Madison braced her feet against the mattress and pushed herself up on her elbow as she flipped onto her side, careful not to disturb Mikio, who was still sleeping like the dead.

"Fine, just fine . . . and how are you?  How's my little brother?  Oh, I took a peek in the name jar at the shop, and someone suggested, 'Andreas,' which would be fantastic—if we were Greek.  Does Dad have some mixed Greek in his bloodlines anywhere?"

Kelly laughed.  "No, and don't suggest that to him, please.  We spent an hour yesterday, debating the name, 'William'.   I like it, but he's convinced that everyone will start calling him, 'Willy', and you know how your father is . . ."

"Afraid someone'll make jokes about Willie's willie?" Madison asked sweetly.

Kelly choked, coughed, gagged a little.  "Thanks," she said after she finally wound down from a pretty severe coughing fit.  "Teach me to drink my milk when I'm on the phone with you . . . I think some of that came out my nose . . ." She sniffled.

"Sorry, Mom," she said, sounding anything but sorry, at all.  "I've got an idea.  Why don't you have Dad bring you down here, and we'll do a massive shopping trip for Willie?"

Kelly heaved a chagrined sigh that was completely compromised when she giggled a moment later.  "We are not naming him, 'Willie'," she insisted.  "Your father won't allow it.  You know, that's exactly what he said: 'Kelly, I won't allow it'," she said in a deep, almost dumb tone that she only ever used when describing something silly that Cartham had said to her.  "Maybe I should suggest, 'Patrick'."

Madison wrinkled her nose.  "You don't like that name, Mother."

"Maybe, but seeing Cartham's face when I tell him that I'll call him, 'Tricky' for short?  That should be well worth it . . ."

"You're an evil woman, Mom," she said with a laugh.  "So, about coming down here . . .?"

Kelly sighed.  "I would, baby, really, but Cartham's out on a job—not a hunt, actually . . . I guess Cain's heard rumors about a Honshu-wolf-youkai, so he sent your dad to find out if there's any truth to it."

"What's so special about that?"

"Well, the Honshu wolves were declared extinct in 1905, so if there actually is one of their kind, it'd be pretty significant . . ."

"Hmm," Madison intoned.  "Dad on recon?  Is that really a good idea?  I mean, he's not exactly a people-person . . ."

Kelly snorted.  "None of the hunters are people-people," she corrected.  "It just so happened that your dad wasn't busy at the time—and I might have mentioned to Cain that an assignment might do your father some good . . ."

"Meaning that you told Cain that if he didn't give Dad an assignment, you were going to kill him, right?"

Kelly didn't deny it.  In fact, she laughed.  "You wouldn’t believe how peaceful and quiet it's been here since I dropped him off at the airport . . ."

Madison heaved a sigh, but giggled, just the same.

"I love your father very much," Kelly explained.  "I love him to the moon and back—and if I could send him to the moon regularly, I'd love him even more—especially when I'm pregnant.  This is why you've been an only child for so long, Maddy.  He drives me absolutely crazy with his overbearing, 'concern'."

"It's only because he loves you," Madison pointed out.

"I know," she agreed.  "I love him, too.  Anyway, I have to run.  I've got my monthly checkup, so I have to get moving.  I'll text you later and tell you how it went."

"Okay," Madison said.  "Love you."

"You, too, sweetie."

The connection ended, and Madison smiled as she set the phone aside.

"Your mother wouldn't really name a child something just to get at your father, would she?"

She laughed and rolled over to look at Mikio, who still hadn't opened his eyes.  "I'd like to say she wouldn't, but knowing her and knowing how crazy Dad's been making her, I don't know if I would put it past her, either . . ."

"That's so wrong," he said, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand.

Leaning on her elbow, she stared at him, enjoying the way the morning light played with the angles and planes of his face, got caught in the wispy strands of his hair . . . She'd noticed the same thing about Evan's hair before.  It wasn't really silvery, no, but more like all the colors of the rainbow, all melded together in every strand in shades that were washed out yet still present, like looking through a kaleidoscope . . . With his eyes closed, it was easier to see the unsettling difference in his appearance.  Given who his father was, he actually looked a little more like Sesshoumaru than InuYasha.  He held more of the finer bone structure, a more aristocratic kind of face . . . If Gunnar were silver haired instead of black, they might well have looked like brothers, to be honest . . .

"Are you sure that InuYasha is your dad?" she asked, only half-teasing.

He cracked an eye open, and the expression on his face was most definitely an InuYasha-sort of look.  "What?"

She laughed.  "You look a lot like your uncle, you know."

He snorted.  "Keh."

Which only made her laugh harder.

"Everyone's said that at one time or another—well, except for Papa," he muttered.  "Pisses him off something fierce."

"I'll bet it does.  Their feuding is legendary."

"They don't feud nearly as much these days," Mikio pointed out.  "Well, at least, not physically . . ."

"It would make for far more interesting family dinners," she mused.  "Anyway, how's your headache today?  Better?"

"Gone," he told her, managing a very small smile.  "Thanks for that.  I'll get you a fruit basket or something to thank you properly."

Her lips twitched at his wry humor.  "A fruit basket?  Really?"

"Something else you'd rather have?"

She rolled her eyes but grinned at him.  "I don't need anything.  Besides, you're the one kind enough to let me stay here with you while my security's being updated."

He sighed.  "Yeah, about that . . . The guy I spoke to said that they were pretty backlogged—I guess people are updating their systems because of the stuff on the news lately.  Anyway, he said it would be a week or so before they could get around to coming over to even look at yours . . . I can call around if you want, though, see if anyone else can look into it sooner, but Bas said this company was the best."

She nodded.  "If Bas said they're the best, then that's who I want doing the job," she assured him.  "As long as you don't mind having me underfoot."

"Not at all," he told her.  "I, uh . . . I-I-I like having you around."

"You do?" she blurted, sounding a little breathless in her own ears.

He nodded, sitting up and turning away, but not before she saw the adorable little blush that rose to stain his cheeks.  "Y-Yeah," he said.  "I . . . I do . . ."