InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 4: Justification ❯ Sweet Little Lies ( Chapter 83 )

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

Something soft, warm fluttering over her cheek woke Gin, and she whimpered, turning her face into the pillow to escape the intrusion of conscious.  The flutter persisted, and she grimaced but opened her eyes slowly, only to find Cain leaning over her, staring at her with a strange sort of confusion clouding his eyes.  She reached out slowly, smoothed away the lines furrowing his brow.  "Morning."

He tried to smile as he caught her hand and pressed it to his lips.  "Hey."

"You didn't sleep, did you?" she questioned, scowling at the darkened circles under his red-rimmed eyes.  He was still in bed with her, but she didn't try to fool herself into believing that he wasn't about to slip away.

He shook his head.  "It's all right."

Gin licked her lips and let her fingers trail down his cheeks.  "You weren't going to wake me, were you?"

"You were tired."

"You think I wouldn't want to say goodbye?"

"Thought it'd be easier."

"What time is it?"

He sighed.  "Six."

"You . . . You really have to go."

"I've been away too long.  I've . . ."

"You don't have to explain things to me, Cain."

He grimaced.  "About last night—"

"Last night . . ."

"That wasn't—It should've been—"

"It was perfect."

He flinched and tightened his arms around her.  "That wasn't how it was supposed to be.  Don't you see?  It wasn't—"

Gin leaned up on her elbows, pushed the hair out of his eyes.  "I'll remember last night for the rest of my life.  Don't take that away from me now."

Barking out an incredulous laugh, Cain shook his head as he slowly turned to stare at her.  A million emotions warred in his gaze, and Gin was the one to force herself to look away.  "Gin . . . I . . . lo—"

Smashing her fingers to his lips, Gin shook her head, quickly blinking as his face wavered in her vision.  "Don't say it, Cain.  Please . . . Don't make this harder than it already is."

"Harder?"

"If you don't go now, you're going to miss your plane.  Morning traffic . . ."

Grasping her shoulders, shaking her gently, he growled in frustration.  "Fuck the plane, Gin!  You have to listen to me!"

Squeezing her eyes closed for a moment, stubbornly refusing to let the gathering tears fall, she shook her head again and forced a quivering smile.  "North America needs you, right?  You have to go."

"Do you need me?" he asked quietly.

Forcing a laugh, wondering how it could be that she sounded so calm, so sure of herself, Gin shrugged.  "You need to go home."

Cain shook his head furiously, denying the truth in her words.  "That's not what I asked.  Do . . . you . . . need . . . me?"

It was the hardest thing she'd ever done, to look him in the eye and lie.  Her smile faltered but didn't disappear, and she heaved a sigh.  "No, Cain.  I don't need you."

Closing his eyes, gulping as he slowly nodded, he sat up, back to her.  The defeated air that surrounded him—the melancholy that engulfed him—Gin bit her cheek, and for a moment, she considered recanting her claim.  "I see.  So that's it."

"That's it."

Standing up, grabbing his shirt, he stared at it for a moment, realizing that in her haste, Gin had popped many of the buttons off it, then tossed it aside before striding out of the room.  She winced as she watched him go but forced herself out of bed, struggling into her robe as she ran after him.

She caught up with him as he rifled through his carry-on bag for a shirt and jerked it over his head.  Words seemed stupid, insignificant, and she wrapped her arms over her belly as she bit her lip and told herself not to cry.

He zipped the bag and straightened his collar, not daring to look at Gin, not able to meet her gaze.  He stood there for several minutes as the unmerciful tick of the clock echoed in her head.  Unmoving, unwavering, she could feel a chasm opening between them.  She could feel him slipping away.

'It's better this way.  This is how it has to be.'

"So, uh . . . I guess . . . I should go," Cain mumbled.  Gin's eyes flashed up to meet his, and she gasped at the misery he was trying to hide, the brightness of tears that he wouldn't allow to fall.  "Take care of yourself, baby girl."

Turning abruptly on his heel, he took the two steps that separated him and the door.  "Cain, wait!"

He stopped and swung around, and though he didn't ask out loud, she could see the pleading in his eyes.  'Change your mind, Gin,' he seemed to be saying.  'Come with me . . .'

Swallowing hard, she held up her hand before she turned and ran over to the shelf where she kept her precious things.  'The pink one with the spirals . . .' she thought as her clumsy hands shoved shells aside.  She found it at last, held it as though it were made of something as fragile as spider webs.  Staring at the shell as she slowly shuffled back to Cain, she pressed the precious thing into his hand, closed his fingers over it.  "It's my favorite one, you know?  The one I . . . love best."

"Gin, your father gave this to you."

She shook her head and managed a dim smile.  "I don't need it anymore."

He ducked his chin for a moment, stared at the shell in his hand.  When he lifted his gaze once more, she was shocked to see the tear running down his cheek.  "Come with me," he asked her.  "Just to the airport.  If you won't come home with me, can't you at least do that?"

Her smile widened just a little, and she shook her head, gaze blurring as the first of her tears spilled over.  "I can do a lot of things, Cain, but I . . . I can't watch you leave."

He sniffled and nodded, pressing his lips together in a thin line.  "If you ever—ever need . . . anything . . . call me."

Gin nodded, her smile faltering as he stepped forward to touch her cheek.  "You'd better go.  You'll miss your flight."

He nodded.  Bending down, brushing her lips with one last, lingering kiss, he wiped her tears away and kissed her forehead.  She hugged him tight as she listened to the clock ticking away the precious last seconds, and before she was ready, he carefully stepped back and grabbed the door handle.

It seemed so strange, the click of the door as he disappeared from her life.

Shaking her head, she stared at the door.  Numb, empty, a sense of disbelief engulfed her.  Running to the window, clutching the sill as she watched Cain raise his hand to hail a cab, Gin leaned her forehead against the cold glass as he got into the car without looking back.

She watched long after the taxi had disappeared down the street and around the corner.  She didn't know how long she stood there, gazing out at the world that didn't seem to have changed despite the inner knowledge that hers was coming to an end.

Cain's words came back to her; spoken so long ago.  There was a bitter irony in his statement.  She knew that all too well.

"Damn, Gin, don't you get it?  The world isn't as beautiful and perfect and innocent as you want to believe!  There are those out there who would hurt you—especially you—and you can't take stupid chances like that!"

'Not as beautiful and perfect and innocent as I want to believe?  It isn't, is it?  It's unfair and ugly and vengeful . . . I know that now, don't I?'

The clock chimed the hour, and Gin flinched.  Eight o'clock.  She'd been standing at the window, and why?

'You were hoping he'd change his mind, weren't you?  You wanted him to come back, to tell you that he'd changed his mind, that he wanted to live . . .'

'I suppose I was," she thought distractedly.  Turning away from the window, something caught her eye.  On the table beside the telephone . . .

Wandering over, Gin slowly reached out, lifted the colored pieces of cardboard paper off the table as she shook her head.  Two one way tickets: one to New York City, and the other a connector flight that would take her to Maine . . .

'Why did you do that?  How could you be so cruel?'

Gin rasped out a harsh cry, hands trembling as she ripped the tickets to shreds, letting them rain down from her fingers like the first snow of winter.

The pain came first; slamming into her with a force so strong that she fell to her knees beside the table, hands clutching the edge, afraid to let go.  Keening softly as the rawness ripped and tore her, left her bleeding and hurting, she struggled to breathe.  Fighting against the consuming ache, she felt herself falling to pieces, felt the edges of her very being slipping away.  Caught in the tide of recrimination—the shadows that whispered what should have been, and she couldn't help but to ask herself if this what was truly meant to be.  She wanted to rant, rave, scream.  She wanted to be angry, and she wanted to hurt something.  Beating her fists against the table feebly, as though every last bit of strength she possessed had left with Cain, she felt the rising swell of a silent wail, the sobs that hadn't been released.  She'd held herself together for his sake, hadn't she?  Now that he was gone, what was left for her?

'Gone . . .'

That word ushered in a wash of hysteria, and Gin slumped against the table, wrapping her arms over her stomach as pain surged through her, a bitter ache, the reminder that beauty never lasted forever, and that even the brightest colors faded over time.

Somewhere in her mind, the words of an old song echoed.  She didn't try to figure out where they came from, didn't try to remember how she knew it.  The words—always words . . .

It was true, wasn't it?  Everything she'd thought or believed, wished or dreamed . . . It was all for nothing, and in the end . . . In the end, she had nothing, too.

And then came the tears.


Kichiro dropped the newspaper aside with a sigh as he checked his watch and rolled his eyes.  He had made reservations at seven for dinner followed by the opening night of the much-anticipated revival of Miss Saigon.  They'd wanted to catch a show, and since Ryomaru wasn't exactly known for having more refined tastes, Kichiro figured they should do that before his twin showed up in the next couple of days.  'Now if Belle would just come out of the bathroom . . .'

Rapping on the door just before he opened it to poke his head inside, Kichiro shook his head when he spotted the woman in question still submerged in a tub full of bubbles.  "You going to be in there all night?"

"Of course not," she giggled.  "We've got awhile.  Why don't you hop in and join me?"

"You're going to electrocute yourself if you're not more careful," Kichiro complained as he strode over to pick up her cell phone and wipe the bubbles away with a fluffy white towel.  "Who were you talking to?"

"Kelly," Bellaniece replied, lifting a handful of bubbles and blowing them at her mate.  "She says hi, by the way."

"Or you'll ruin your cell, then where will you be?"

"So you'd buy me a new one," she said, waving off his concern with a soapy hand as he used the towel to dab away the bubbles that she'd gotten on him before hunkering down beside the tub.  "You should get out soon or you'll get all wrinkly."

"Wrinkly can be fun," she told him.  "Anyway, I just had this vision of you, all covered in bubbles, flicking your sexy little ears . . ."

He caught her hand before she could blow another handful of bubbles, but he chuckled, scooping them off her hand only to dab them on the end of her nose.  "There's not a damn thing about me that's little, Belle-chan."

"Oh, I know that that isn't little at all, lover.  I'm simply stating that your ears, while adorable as hell, are fairly small and quite nice to . . . chew on."

Kichiro chuckled and leaned in to kiss her.  She caught his braid, wrapping her sudsy hand around it to hold him close as he nipped at her bottom lip.  "Chewing on my ears?  See what I've been reduced to?" he complained between kisses.

Bellaniece giggled.  "I don't see you complaining when I'm doing it," she pointed out.  "You either need to get in here or get out so I can finish up."

Grimacing at the now-soapy braid, he sat back and grabbed the towel again.  "Hurry it up, wench."

"I am; I am.  Stop distracting me," she complained as she stood up.

Stifling a moan as water sluiced down her body, as bubbles clung to wet skin pinkened from the steamy bath, he turned away before he could give in to the desire to snatch her up and stalk right back to the bedroom they'd barely emerged from in the last few days.  Her teasing laughter trilled after him as he stomped out of the bathroom.

Figuring it would be awhile before Bellaniece was dressed and ready to go, Kichiro picked up his cell phone and sighed.  He'd been meaning to call and check in on Gin but hadn't gotten around to it yet.  Since Bellaniece hadn't even started dressing yet, Kichiro flipped the phone open and dialed Gin's number.

"Hello?"

Scowling at the nasal quality of his sister's tone, Kichiro took a moment before replying.  "Oi, baby girl.  You okay?"

"Nii-chan?  Is everything all right?"

He grimaced.  Leave it to Gin to think that something was wrong just because he called her.  "Everything's fine.  Why do you sound weird?"

"Weird?  Oh, it's nothing.  I was watching a movie, and it got to me."

"You need to stay away from Disney movies, Gin."

She giggled weakly.  "Yeah . . . Yeah, I do . . ."

"How are you?  Is that baka being good to you?"

"Baka?  You mean Cain?"

"What other baka's been sleeping in your apartment?"

In his mind, he could see his sister wince, and he sighed.

"C-Cain's  . . . fine.  Fine . . ."

"Is he there?"

"What?  Oh, um, no . . . He had to take care of some things."

"Did he yell at you again?"

"No.  Everything's fine, nii-chan."

"If you're sure . . ." he said doubtfully.

"I'm sure.  So what are you doing, calling me?  You're on your honeymoon, right?  You should be going out with Belle or something."

"She's getting dressed."

"Oh?  Big plans?"

"Sort of.  We're going to see Miss Saigon tonight."

"Sounds great."

Snorting as the connection started to break up, Kichiro wandered around the room in a vain effort to get a better signal.  "Listen, I'm about to lose you.  I'll call you again in a few days to check up on you, okay?"

"Oh, you don't need to do that," she blurted.

Kichiro stopped, frowning at his reflection in the mirror over the small table next to the door.  "Come again?"

"I just mean . . . I'm, uh . . . I'm going on a trip with my art theory class.  We're . . . going to see some of the old shrines around Japan, and, well, you know how bad cell phone signals can be outside Tokyo."

"Oh . . . shrines for art theory?  Since when?"

"We're studying the art . . . in the ancient architecture."

He shook his head but let it go.  It had been a few years since he had been in school, and even then, he hadn't taken any art classes.  "Sounds . . . boring as hell."

"Well . . ."

The static grew worse, and Kichiro growled as the line went dead, connection lost.

"Who were you talking to?" Bellaniece asked, sashaying into the living room with her head tipped to the side, clipping an earring on as she peered up at him.

"Gin," he replied, scowling at the phone.

"Is everything okay?"

Kichiro sighed and shrugged.  "She says it is.  She just sounded . . ." Trailing off, shaking his head, he set the cell phone on the table and smiled at Bellaniece.  "She said she was watching a movie that made her cry."

"Oh, I love those kinds of movies!"

Kichiro rolled his eyes and reached for Bellaniece's hand.  "Come on, Izayoi-san.  You've kept me waiting long enough.


Cain rattled the keys in the lock and stepped into the house just as the first rays of dawn broke over the horizon.  The wan light seeped in through the doorway, outlining his shadow on the polished marble floor.  Closing the door with a soft shove, he strode into the first room to the right off the foyer—his study.  Pausing long enough to drop the keys onto the desk, he flopped down in the thickly cushioned chair and let his head fall back with a sigh.

Home.

The dusky room cast in shadows, dancing macabre lights played on the ceiling, across the desk, a filtered darkness that matched the color of his soul.

He'd waited until he'd almost missed the plane; waited for the silver hair—for her—to come flying through the terminal into his arms.  He'd waited for her, hoping, praying, wishing . . . She never came.  Sparing one last look back at the empty waiting room, he'd turned away, boarded the plane, staring out the window at the airport for the one face he needed to see.

"No, Cain.  I don't need you."

Flinching as the dull throbbing pain in his chest blossomed into a stabbing ache, he tried to block those words from his mind.  They wouldn't go away.

"I don't need you . . . I don't need you . . . I don't need you . . ."

It was a lie, wasn't it?  It had to be; just had to be.  She needed him, even if she didn't think she really did, deep down inside . . .

That was the real justice, wasn't it?  The most divine retribution imaginable . . . He'd lost his heart to her so long ago; had given it to her, hadn't he?  But he knew her so well, or he thought he did.  He'd made promises—stupid promises—ones that might have been impossible to keep, and Gin . . . What had she done?  Why had she said those things to him?

'She'll never know how much it cost me, will she?  She'll never care . . . The one thing she'd ever asked of me, and I did it . . . God help me, I did it . . .'

'Don't be a fool, Cain!  What does it matter, if someone tries to take your station?  Tai-youkai?  It doesn't mean a thing!  What are you without her?  What are we?  Swallow your damn pride and go back to her, go back and get her.  Make her understand what you were too proud to tell her!  You love her; you need her; you want her forever . . .'

'And how could I do that?  She knew of the promise.  It probably made all of this that much easier for her, didn't it?  She never had to think about us, not seriously, because in her head, she knew . . .'

'The promise; the promise; always that promise!  Cain, that was a stupid fool's promise from the start!  Don't you think that Isabelle understood?  In the end, don't you think she knew?  She tried to tell you.  She tried to make you see, but you, in all your self-righteous bullshit—-you didn't want to, did you?  Higher than God, are you?  More powerful than time?  How can you believe that you, alone, were responsible for any of that?  And then to make that promise . . . it wasn't noble.  It wasn't honorable.  It was stupid and selfish and cowardly, and you know that's true, too.'

Shooting to his feet; prowling around the room, Cain flexed his claws, glared at the familiar surroundings, but everywhere he looked, he saw her face.

"No, Cain.  I don't need you . . ."

"Damn it . . ."

'And you know it was a lie!  It was the lie she told for you!  She said it because it was what she thought you needed to hear; because she would rather be without you than to think that you'd stayed with her out of pity.  Gin's not a fool!  She alone is your equal.  She is the chosen mate of the tai-youkai!'

'Chosen mate . . .?  What does that mean?  I didn't . . . I never . . . I . . .'

'You chose her.  Your thoughts, your emotions, your actions . . . maybe you didn't announce it formally.  Maybe it was something that you left unsaid.  She's the one you chose, Cain—the one I chose.  You waited nearly three hundred years to find her, and now what?  You'll simply let her go?'

'I . . . don't . . . know . . .'

'You don't know?  That's your answer?'

'If she wanted to be with me—if she really needed me—she'd have come to the airport, wouldn't she?  Well, she didn't, did she?  She didn't, and now . . . It's too late.  She got the one thing she wanted from me.  She doesn't want anything more.'

'. . . You're a fool, Cain, and pity me then.'

'Pity you?'

'If you won't go back to her, you know what'll happen.  Or maybe that's what you really wanted all along.'