InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 10: Anomaly ❯ Cat and Mouse ( Chapter 29 )

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

Wisely hiding her smile, Madison glanced at Valerie, who was showing no such restraint as she rubbed her belly and giggled.  “Wow, Gunnar Inutaisho with an actual tool in his hands . . .” she teased.

Gunnar uttered a terse grunt as he set the wrench aside and rolled up his sleeves.  “It won’t happen again, I assure you,” he muttered.  “I think I should get it in writing.”

“Get what in writing?” Madison ventured, perched on the edge of the closed toilet seat.

He shot her a very droll look.  “That you’re not going to try to blame me for this or charge me for the repairs that are going to be colossal, you know.”

She giggled, too.  “I won’t; I swear.”

He didn’t look entirely reassured, and that only served to further her overall amusement.

The plan was about as simple as it could possibly be: flood Madison’s apartment by undoing the water line.  Gunnar, in his absolutely pragmatic sense, had initially told her that it was a bad idea, that the damage to her apartment would be bad enough, but if it was bad enough to make it so that she couldn’t stay here, then chances were good that it’d cause extensive damage to the apartment below, too.  That idea had actually put a damper on her enthusiasm.  After all, she really didn’t want to inconvenience anyone else, Mikio aside, although, to be honest, she didn’t really think that he’d be too put out by the idea that she needed a place to stay again, especially after his brilliant display of jealousy when he’d seen the picture of her with Evan and Cade Warren.

But it was also Gunnar who had put the plan, right back on track, too, asking her if she remembered whether or not this building in particular had to have been brought up to fire code before she moved in.  It had been on the tip of her tongue to say that she didn’t know, but she recalled that Cartham had been adamant that the place be fully safe in the event of fire or any such thing.

“So, the entire building’s been water webbed?” Gunnar asked, giving the apartment a critical eye.

Madison nodded.  “I believe so.  Daddy said that it was or he’d have thrown a fit about me living here.”

Gunnar nodded since that made perfect sense.  “All right. Then it would take more than a little flooding to penetrate that—even though I still say it’s too drastic.  You’ve never heard your neighbors, right?  Above, below, either side . . .?”

“Nope.”

He looked marginally relieved.  “Good.  That stuff is damn good for soundproofing, too.”

Which was true enough.  Madison knew just from discussions with the contractors with the various spas that water webbing was essential these days, especially in residential or commercial spaces that dealt with running water.  Another plus of it was that it was flame retardant, too.  She had no idea what the stuff was made of, but these days, it was par for course.

On the plus side, it meant that it should save any of the other units in the building from incurring damage from the flooding.  On the negative side, it might well cause more damage in her apartment since it would hold the water where it was and would require special equipment to dry the place out once it was done, too, and the webbing would likely have to be entirely replaced, as well.  Madison, however, was borderline desperate, so . . .

He spent a few minutes, messing around with the wrench that he’d found under the kitchen sink.  Madison didn’t rightfully know where it came from.  It was a great, big, ugly thing, bright orange in color, and it became painfully obvious within those few minutes that Gunnar, as brilliant as he was at his field of employment, was woefully uninformed when it came to general plumbing.

Finally, he stood up straight, glowering at the sink cabinet that stood wide open, exposing the piping that he’d been trying in vain to work loose.  “I don’t think this is going to work,” he told her with a shake of his head.

“Why not?”

He grunted, his irritation, showing.  “For starters, I have no damn idea, what to do with this,” he growled, giving the wrench a shake.  “Even if I did, if the line is just undone, then it’d be easy enough to figure out how to screw it back in, don’t you think?”

She made a face.  She really hadn’t thought of that.

“Okay . . . Can’t you just snap it or something?” Valerie asked.  “Just . . . Just give it a good smack or something?  I mean, what are your claws for if you don’t use them?”

Gunnar appeared to consider that before dropping the wrench on the sink with a decided grunt.  The heavy thing hit the counter hard, and Madison was only marginally surprised that the marble top didn’t crack under the impact.  Then, he heaved a sigh as he hunkered down to get a good look at the pipes again, letting them know just how put-upon he really was about the entire affair.  “I doubt that would look like an accident,” he remarked, his voice, muffled by the cabinet.  “I mean, these are copper pipes, and those don’t—oh, hmm . . .”

“What?”

He leaned forward, but Madison couldn’t see what he was doing.  “Okay, yeah.  I think I can just snap off the shut off valve.  That ought to do it.”

“You’re so smart!  I’m so glad you’re so smart!” Madison said.

He started to turn the valve.  Madison could hear the squeaking groan as he twisted it.

“Wait!” Valerie suddenly blurted.

Gunnar leaned back to look at her.  “Why?”

She shook her head, ignoring him for the moment as she grabbed Madison’s hands and tried to pull her to her feet.  “Shoes!”

“Shoes?”

“Shoes?”

“Shoes!”

Gunnar snorted.  “I appreciate your concern, Valerie; these were expensive, but—”

She wrinkled her nose, flicked a hand at Gunnar to shut him up.  “Not yours!  Yours!” she exclaimed, grabbing Madison’s hand once more and tugging her again.  “If this works, the first room to flood after this one is yours, which means your closet—your shoes!”

“Oh, my God!” Madison blurted, hopping up and striding out of the room.

“What?” Gunnar growled.

“Give us a minute,” she called over her shoulder as she made a bee-line toward her closet.  “Just let me get the shoes off the floor really quick . . .”

Valerie hurried after her, and the two of them moved the boxes off the floor and onto the bed.  She’d been meaning to have more racks installed since the ones she’d initially put in were full to overflowing.  She was willing to sacrifice her flooring, sure, but her shoes?  “I can’t believe I nearly forgot you,” she crooned at the boxes in her arms as she unloaded them onto the bed.

Valerie rolled her eyes as she did the same.  “Are you sure this is a good idea?  I mean, isn’t there a cheaper way to accomplish this?”

“No,” Madison said, stubbornly giving her head a shake.  “Anything else would be too easy to fix, don’t you think?  This should buy me at least a week or two . . .”

“Is that all?”

Madison grimaced.  “It’s not perfect.”

“Don’t you think that looks a little suspicious?” Gunnar pointed out, nodding at the boxes on the bed as he lounged in the doorway to the master bath.

“Nope,” Madison replied, carefully arranging the last of the boxes from the floor of the closet on the bed.  “Suspicious would be me, not doing a thing to save my shoes.”

He grunted.  “It’s now or never,” he said.  “Bas is already texting, wanting to know when I’ll be back.”

Valerie blinked.  “Do you answer to him all the time?”

He snorted loudly.  “Hardly, but we’re supposed to be having a meeting with Cain and tou-san since they’re in town for the Halloween party at Ben’s.”

“Oh, right, that’s tomorrow night, isn’t it?” Valerie said.  She grimaced.  “I’d love to stay and help you out more, sweetie—and to witness Gunnar breaking your water line—but I’ve got to go pick up our costumes—and probably look for alternates . . . I never should have allowed Evan to pick them out . . .”

Gunnar shook his head.  “With your luck, he’ll want to be something stupid—the Oscar Mayer Weiner or something.”

Valerie’s lips twitched.  “That was last year.”

“Kami,” he muttered, shoving himself out of the doorframe with his shoulder and turning back toward the bathroom once more.  “I’m going to do this—and then, I’m out of here.”

Mikio stepped out of the stairwell, wondering for the hundredth time since he’d left the penthouse if he weren’t doing something really, really dumb.

‘It’s not dumb, you know.  You miss her—so do I—and there’s nothing at all wrong with stopping by to see a friend, now is there?’

That was the same argument he’d already had with himself long before he left the penthouse.  The gist of it all, however, was simply that he missed her—her laugh, her smile, the amusing way she tended to spin things in her mind . . . and the feel of her, sleeping next to him in the quiet and serenity of the deepest night . . .

Letting out a deep breath as he strode down the quiet hallway, he frowned.  The closer he got to her door, the more he felt it, didn’t he?  The sense that she was upset—maybe not upset, exactly, but highly agitated . . . Enough so that he could feel it, hanging thick in the air . . .

He stepped back when her door swung open, frowned as he felt the strange sponginess under his feet, barely had the time to catch her upper arms before she barreled straight into him.  Damp hair, almost carelessly pinned up, held in place by what looked like a cheap ink pen, she had no makeup on and was visibly disheveled, the light grey, oversized sweatshirt, hanging shapelessly over a pair of black yoga pants with darker spots on both—water spots, he supposed.  It was the first time he’d seen her wear anything other than one of his shirts to sleep in or one of her pretty little dresses, and, under ordinary circumstances, he might have thought that she was entirely adorable, all things considered.  Too bad her upset was even thicker, standing so close to her, leaving no room for anything else, other than the almost overwhelming desire to fix whatever it was that had rattled her so much . . . “Maddy?”

She blinked, seemed surprised, and then she heaved a mighty sigh and slowly shook her head.  “I . . . I busted a water line,” she said, her voice quaking slightly, and when she lifted her hand to limply push back an errant lock of hair, it was trembling, too.  “I don’t know what to do . . .”

Mikio let out a deep breath as he let go of her and carefully stepped around her, wincing inwardly as his feet squelched on the drenched carpet.  It looked dry enough except for the footprints that were darkened, obviously soaked.

“I was going to come over, see if you knew what I should do,” she said, following him into the apartment.  “I would have called, but my phone got soaked, and . . .” She heaved a sigh.  “I can’t shut it off!”

“It’s okay,” he told her, wondering just how in the world she’d managed to break something so badly that nearly the entire apartment was under water.  “Where’s it leaking?”

She waved in the general direction of the short hallway that led to her bedroom.  “The master bath . . .”

“What happened?”

She made a face.  “I noticed it was leaking just a little, so I tried to shut off the valve, but it kind of just snapped off, and . . .”

He nodded and headed off.  The flooding was worse, and by the time he reached the bathroom, he could feel water, soaking around the soles of his shoes, into his socks.  Her room was neat and tidy except for the myriad of shoe boxes on her bed.  He noticed them, of course, but he didn’t stop to question it.  He’d never actually been in her room before, but, aside from the saturated carpeting, the muted pinks and taupes suited her.

Water was gushing everywhere in the bathroom, a crazy spray that shot out of the cabinet under the sink.  He blinked and stepped back in surprise, momentarily dazed by the sheer amount of water that was spewing from under there.  Just what in the world could cause a break like that?

‘Never mind that, Mikio.  It’s getting worse by the second.’

‘Kami . . . What the hell . . .?  Looks like something Papa would do if Mama ever let him mess around with anything at home . . .’

‘Yeah, cute.  Now let’s figure out what’s going on and fix it!’

That got him moving again, and, narrowing his eyes against the uncomfortably cold torrent, he stepped forward into the gush.  “Did you call the building manager?” he called out as he knelt down, holding up a hand to shield himself from the heaviest of the spray while trying to see the water lines.  Blinking through the inundation of water, he saw that the shut off valve had been snapped off and he stood up again to hurry out of the room once more.

“I did, but he didn’t answer,” she said, biting her lip as she surveyed the damage in her bedroom.  “I left a message, but I don’t know—”

“It’s okay,” he broke in gently.  “Do you know where your water main is?”

“Water main?” she echoed.  “I . . . I don’t know,” she said.  “Maybe the laundry room?  I don’t know . . .”

He followed her through the flooded apartment—it had already reached the edge of the kitchen.  Wiping his face on an equally wet sleeve, he noticed that there were two doors on the wall by the refrigerator, and he tried the first one.  It was a decent sized laundry room.  Beside the washing machine was a small access panel.  He opened it, relieved to find what looked like a larger blue twist-valve, and he wasted no time in turning it until it stopped.  As he headed past her to check and make sure that it was, in fact, the water main, he spared a moment to give her arm a reassuring little squeeze.

The kitchen faucet sputtered and hissed for several seconds before the flow of water trickled down to nothing.  “I think I got it,” he told her, but he still moved away to double check the bathroom.

“What a mess,” she muttered, trailing along behind him.  “I mean, I was considering, redoing the flooring, but I didn’t really want to do it this way . . .”

He grimaced, but at least, the water had stopped shooting out from under the sink, and he frowned at the waterlogged room.  Even so, he said nothing as he dug his phone out of his pocket, only to find that it was entirely drenched, too.  It did turn on, however, likely because he tended to invest in a good, solid case, though he didn’t really look for waterproofing as much as he did, durability.  After already breaking a few phones in his clumsier moments when he’d fallen on them, he’d learned his lesson well enough.

It didn’t take him long to find a clean-up expert that was decently close.  “Hello, my name is Izayoi.  I’ve got a pretty big emergency that needs immediate attention.”

Madison rubbed her forehead, wandering rather aimlessly around the bedroom as she surveyed the damage.  A few minutes later, and he’d arranged for them to come over and assess the damage—and to get to work, too.  Dropping his phone into his pocket once more, he let out a deep breath.  “Why don’t you gather some things?” he suggested.  “You can stay with, uh, me . . . T-Till they get your place cleaned up.”

Madison sighed, and for a moment, he thought that she was going to protest on principle.  In the end, though, she nodded.  “All right,” she replied.  “All right . . .”

‘You realize, don’t you?  You’re going to go straight to hell for this.’

Biting her lip as she settled back on the cozy sofa, Madison watched as Mikio paced the room, talking in low tones, discussing prices for estimates to fix the valve that Gunnar had so neatly snapped off on her behalf.

‘Maybe, but . . .’

Her youkai-voice sighed.  ‘You’re just not sorry, not even the slightest bit.’

‘It’s for the greater good,’ she insisted stubbornly.  ‘I . . . I need to be here with him.’

‘Madison, you flooded your entire apartment—not just in a slightly damp, ‘oh, it’ll dry by morning’ way.  You flooded it—and you ruined your phone, too.’

‘That really was an accident,’ she replied defensively.  ‘I need to remember to get a waterproof case for the next one . . .’

Of course, the reason why she hadn’t ever bothered was simply because it made no sense to spend more money on something that she’d invariably misplace eventually, anyway.

She’d already gotten a hot shower and changed and was now pretty darned cozy.  Mikio, however, was still wearing his drenched clothes since he had gotten straight onto the phone, trying to fix the problem that she created—and damned if she didn’t think it was one of the sexist things she’d ever seen before in her life . . .

‘You can try to put a good face on it, Mads, but you know, stop and think about it . . . You flooded your apartment just so he’d be the darling that he is and invite you to stay . . . That’s terrible, and hardly a way to build a solid relationship.’

‘If it were truly as bad as you seem to think it is, then someone would have tried to stop me, and they didn’t.  Even Gunnar, and you know how he is—he agreed with it, too, and he helped, so if you’re trying to rain on my parade, it’s not working.’

‘In a handbasket, Madison Cartham.  In.  A.  Handbasket.’

Mikio ended the current phone call and shot Madison an almost apologetic kind of look as well as a very shy little smile that took her breath away.  Left ear, twitching, he set the phone on the side table nearby and slowly shook his head.  “That was the cleaning company.  They said that they’re trying to get the water cleaned up, but it was a pretty big mess.  Said they should be done in about an hour or so, but it’ll still have to dry for some time before you can go home, but that’s not the problem.  The real problem, according to them, is that the moisture that’s going to be in the air in there might be an issue, given that the windows cannot be opened indefinitely there to help get the moisture out of the apartment.  He said that they’ll set up dehumidifiers.  They’ll help, but you’ll definitely want to have a contractor come in and check things out.  Apparently, there’s a good chance that the water webbing might have to be replaced, and if that’s the case . . . Well, it’s a big job . . .”

“Oh . . .”

He shrugged, and his smile widened just a little bit.  “So, I guess I’m kind of stuck with you for a while,” he said.

She blinked, stared at him for a moment, and then, she laughed.  “You’re okay with that?”

He stared at her for a long, long second, and his smile faded, but a strange sort of brightness entered his gaze.  She didn’t know if he realized just how he looked right then, but she did.  For that one, brief, fleeting heartbeat, she saw it, didn’t she?  Those same things that had kept her awake, every night since she’d gone home . . .

And he slowly, slowly nodded.