InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 4: Justification ❯ Fumbling for Answers ( Chapter 80 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

"This had better be good.  You know where I am right now, right?"

"Sorry, Zelig.  This couldn't really be put off any longer.  You'll understand."

"I might, Ben.  What's going on?"

"There's a potential problem, or at least, it could become one.'

"What kind of problem?"

"Cal Richardson.  We've heard tale that his contingent has been insinuating . . . things."

"Things like what?"

'You need to come home."

"I realize that."

"No, Zelig, listen.  There've been rumors . . . Some are saying that you've deserted America for the Old World."

"That's ridiculous."

"They say you've forgotten your obligations."

"Don't be stupid.  I know better than anyone, what my obligations are."

"Do you?  You have to admit, Zelig, you've been gone a long time."

"I had to stay for my daughter's wedding, don't you think?"

"So she married the doctor?  The son of the angry hanyou?"

"Yeah, she did, and—"

"Doesn't that complicate your relationship with Gin?"

"What?"

"Gin's the one you've chosen, isn't she?  Are you going to tell her about the threats?"

"Gin doesn't have anything to do with that.  Leave it alone, Ben."

"And you don't think that the tai-youkai's . . . special friend . . . won't be a target if they're absolutely serious?  Don't be foolish.  You need to tell her.  She needs to know."

"She just doesn't.  Anyway, if you're done barking at me . . ."

"I realize it's really none of my business, but you've got to understand this really isn't some kind of joke."

"I'll figure it out; don't worry.  Give me a few days to think it over, will you?  A week or so . . ."

"If Richardson makes a move, Zelig . . ."

"Yeah, okay, I hear you.  Cal Richardson's welcome to try it, if he thinks he can."

"Damn it, this isn't a joke!  Richardson has some powerful allies, and if he really wishes to challenge you over the right to remain tai-youkai—"

"You think I care?  The day I'm afraid of the likes of him is the day hell freezes over."

Startling out of his memory, Cain frowned at the cell phone in his hand.

There wasn't really any help for it, was there?  Certainly he'd known that he couldn't stay in Japan forever.  The time had come.  He couldn't shirk his obligations.  Ben Philips had reminded him, had brought everything back into shocking focus once more.  He had to go home.

He didn't know what time it was.

Dropping his cell phone onto the sofa beside him, he stood up and stalked around the lonely apartment.  Gin had stayed to help her mother clean up after the reception.  He'd walked home alone, taking too much time to think, to mull it over in his head.  In the end, he'd been able to understand the one thing that he'd feared all along.

The idea of leaving Gin behind wasn't something he could even consider.

'Did you forget your promise, Cain?'

He sighed and stopped short, careening around to glare out the window at the pitch black sky.  'No.'

'Then what?  You'll keep Gin with you until you decide that you need to keep that promise?  Can you do that to her?  Can you really?'

'That's not what I . . . No,' he argued, grimacing as he realized just how selfish it sounded.

'What, then, Cain?  Every day that passes—every hour, every minute, every second—she becomes more and more necessary to us.'

'I won't endanger Gin.  There's no honor in that.'

'No, no . . . There isn't, but what of your promise?''

'I'll find a way to honor Isabelle.  I'll figure out something.'

'What is it you want?  Do you even know?'

Cain lit a cigarette and let out his breath in a weary gust.  'I want . . . whatever Gin wants,' he decided with a slight shake of his head.  'Now if I could just figure out how she feels; what she really does want . . .'

'Don't have much time to do that, do you?  We can't leave her behind, Cain.  Find a way to convince her.  Ask her.  Just ask her.  Maybe she'll agree . . .'

The soft knock on the door startled him.  Snubbing out his cigarette, he strode over to answer.  Gin smiled at him, obviously tired but just as obviously happy.  Still wearing the pretty white sundress she'd worn to the wedding, she shrugged almost bashfully and bit her bottom lip.  "I wasn't sure if you were still awake.  I noticed from the street that all your lights are off."

"Yeah, I . . . I must have forgotten to turn them on."  He stepped back and held the door open a little wider.  "Come in?"

She did, pausing beside him to tug on his arm until he bent down to let her kiss him.  "How are you holding up?"

Cain wrinkled his nose at the lingering scent of the girl's perfume as he closed the door while Gin hurried over to turn on a lamp.  "Not so bad," he said.

She turned around to stare at him as if she were trying to decide whether or not he was lying.  "The wedding was beautiful.  Bellaniece and Kichiro looked so happy . . ."

"Yeah, she called a little bit ago.  Guess she was worried about me, too," he confessed.

Gin sat on the sofa to slip off her shoes.  "I was proud of you today," Gin murmured, casting him an almost apologetic sort of glance.

"Proud of me?  Why's that?"

"I know it was difficult for you to watch her get married.  I think you made it easier for her.  I think you made Bellaniece really happy."

He shrugged and wandered over to sit beside her.  He tried to smile but couldn't seem to find the strength to do it, especially when he saw the hint of panic that she tried so hard to hide.  "Gin, we need to talk."

"O-Okay," she agreed slowly, voice low, barely a whisper, staring at her hands, folded in her lap.

"The phone call I was taking when you came inside to find me . . . How much of it did you hear?"

She seemed to shrink inside her own skin.  "I-I wasn't eavesdropping, Cain, I promise . . ."

Cain grimaced and touched her shoulder.  "It's fine.  I'm not mad.  I just . . . How much did you hear?"

She relaxed a little and dared a peek at him.  "Not that much.  Was I supposed to hear more?"

Cain shrugged and tugged the collar button of his tuxedo shirt.  "It was Ben . . . Philips . . . Remember him?"

"Your head general?"

He nodded.  "Yeah."

"Is something . . . wrong?"

He winced.  "Sort of . . . nothing big, just . . . I have to go home; back to the States."

"Oh . . . I see . . ."

"Gin—"

"So you're leaving soon?"

"Uh . . . yeah.  This week."

"Wow, that is soon."

"You . . . wouldn't . . . want to come with me . . . would you?"

She seemed surprised by his halting question.  Shaking her head slowly, she managed a weak smile.  "I have school."

Grimacing at her feeble attempt at a laugh, Cain shook his head and reached for her.  She scooted away before he could touch her as her youki pulled in close, wrapped around her so tightly that it was like an invisible barrier, and Cain flinched.  "Well, I was thinking," he blurted, desperately hoping that what he had to say would reassure her.  "The University of Maine has a really good art school.  You could transfer . . . stay with me.  I have plenty of room . . ."

She didn't look at him; didn't even blink.

Cain hurried on.  "I live on the ocean, did I tell you?  You could sketch the landscape; it's really something to see.  Sunrises or sunsets . . . You'd love them, I promise."

"I'm almost finished with school," Gin ventured, still avoiding Cain's gaze.

"Oh . . . right . . ." He sighed then took a deep breath as another wave of inspiration hit him.  "I could help you get a job after school, if you wanted.  I know some people . . . I could make a few calls."

"Cain—"

"Chicago . . . L. A. . . . Dallas . . . Detroit . . . Seattle . . . Wherever you wanted to go, baby girl.  Wherever, whenever . . . Just say the word."

She swallowed hard and cleared her throat, and she looked even sadder than she had before.  "I could just get a job here.  They said they'd hire me back at the Edo-Tokyo Museum."

"I see."  Cain sat forward, dangling his hands between his knees as he scowled at the coffee table.  "You're not going to stay in Tokyo forever, are you?  Dirty air . . . crowded streets . . . Hell, you can't even see the stars very well at night."

Gin made a face and shook her head again.  "But my family's here, Cain."

"Right," he agreed quietly as the last strand of hope snapped.  "Your family.  You can't leave them, can you?"

She shook her head miserably.  "My family's the most important thing to me."

It didn't matter that he knew what she meant, and that she certainly didn't mean it the way it had seemed to him.  Gin's quiet statement cut him deep; the insinuations clear and telling.  Her family was the most important thing, and he . . . Well, he wasn't her family, was he?

"I should have known, huh?"

"Known what?"

"You're still just a baby girl, after all?"

She flinched at his sharp tone and glanced at him before looking away just as quickly.  "I . . . w—"

Cain heaved a sigh, regretting the harshness of his words: the ones that had been borne of frustration.   "It's okay, Gin.  It was . . . It was a stupid idea, I suppose."

"No, it—"

Forcing a smile—he felt as though he'd been doing that a lot of late—Cain shrugged.  "Don't worry about it.  It was just a thought."

Tangling her fingers together, wringing her hands nervously, Gin tilted her head to the side, cheeks pink, eyes glittering, and still she refused to look at him.  "Do you . . .?  You don't . . .?  Why . . . are you . . . asking me?"

He shook his head and flopped back, staring at the ceiling without actually seeing it at all.  'That's a stupid question, isn't it?  Why the hell does she think I asked her?'  Cain heaved a sigh and took a moment to calm his rapidly fraying nerves.  "I just figured maybe you'd . . . want to come with me."

Gin exhaled softly.  "Yeah . . . Yeah, that's what I thought."


Gin closed her eyes and snuggled closer to Cain's side.  The darkness pressed in on her, mercifully sheltered her from the discerning gaze of the man who lay awake beside her though he hadn't spoken in hours.  In the murky light of the hazy dawn that filtered through the window, the realization started to settle over her as the undeniable truth began to unfurl.

He really was going to leave.

'Maybe you should have agreed to go with him, doll.'

'No, I shouldn't have.'

'It wouldn't be so bad, though, really.  You'd be with Cain, and that's all that matters.'

'To me, yes.  To him?  I'm not so sure.'

'You know that on some level, he wants you there.  Don't sell him so short.  He cares about you; you know he does.'

'But that isn't really enough.  It's not even close.'

'Just what is it you want from him, Gin?'

Squeezing her eyes closed tightly, she felt her hand ball into a tight fist.  Cain's rose to grasp it, and her fingers unclenched.  'It isn't about what I want.  It's about Cain, isn't it?  What he wants?  What he . . . What he believes he has to do.  He's got enough obligations.  I can't be another one, can I?  It'd be unfair for me to ask that of him.'

'But he's your mate.  You know it's true.  You know that he's the one—the only one, and you're willing to give him up without even fighting.'

'There's nothing to fight for.  There's nothing at all.'

'Isn't there?  You have to, doll!  If you don't—'

'I know what'll happen if I don't.  I'm not that naïve.  I'm not that stupid.  It doesn't matter, what I want, don't you see?  The only thing that matters is what Cain wants.'

'We need to be with him.'

Swallowing hard as she viciously bit back tears that stung her eyes, Gin pressed her lips together to hold back the scream that was welling inside her.  'No.  He has to want it, too.  He can't stay because of me, because he feels sorry for the stupid hanyou girl who didn't know any better than to fall in love with another woman's mate.'

'Don't you think you're being a little too hard on yourself?'

Cain shifted, wrapping his arms around her as he pressed his lips to her forehead.

'No . . . I don't think I am.'

"Can't sleep either?"

Grateful that her face was hidden in the shadows, Gin sighed.  "Guess I wasn't really tired."

"You can talk to me, you know?  You can tell me . . . whatever you want."

"I know," she replied.  "I was just thinking . . . Bellaniece's wedding . . . it was beautiful."

His soft chuckle sounded sad, or maybe Gin just couldn't rightly discern it.  "Yeah."

"It was the . . . first time."

"What was?"

Gin's wan smile faltered, and her laugh sounded more like a terse little groan.  "The first time I got to dance with anyone who wasn't family."

"Gin—"

She cut him off with a shake of her head.  "I'm just glad it was with you."

The choked hiss of breath that escaped him made her flinch.  "You'll . . . You'll dance at your wedding, baby girl . . . and he'll be . . . the luckiest bastard alive."

Gin couldn't reply to that.  He really didn't know, did he?  He didn't suspect a thing.  She ought to be glad of that, shouldn't she?  It meant that she was doing a good job, hiding her emotions, not allowing him to see those things that would keep him with her but for the wrong reasons.

'Tell him, doll . . . tell him that you love him; that you need him.'

'I . . . can't . . .'

"You make sure he knows that, okay?"

"Cain?"

He shook his head, his smile sad, resigned as he tilted her head back, as he stroked her cheek.  "When you find this guy—" Did he have to look so torn?  "—You make sure he knows just how precious you are."

He didn't give her a chance to answer as he kissed her, and that was just as well.

Through the bemusement inspired by the touch of his lips, Gin had to wonder if he listened really closely, could he hear the sound of her heart breaking?