InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 5: Phantasm ❯ Truce ( Chapter 10 )

~~Chapter 10~~

~Truce~

 

Bas made short work of ordering a meal along with a gallon of milk for Sydnie and slouched into a chair, shaking out the newspaper and taking refuge behind it while he waited for her meal to be delivered. The relief he felt over her odd silence faded quickly enough, only to be replaced by distinct twinges of guilt over the lie as well as over the harshness of his words. Peering at her out of the corners of his eye, he scowled. Letting the newspaper slip as the pretense of inattention fell away, he watched Sydnie.

 

Her eyes kept roaming over the room, coming to rest time and again on the tiny closet across from the bathroom. There was another small closet near the door, but that one didn't seem to interest her at all. `Why?' Bas wondered with a scowl. `Why closets?'

 

He'd found her in one the night she'd had the nightmare. Why would she do that?

 

He shook his head. The only person who could answer that was Sydnie, and she certainly wasn't talking. His father's words came back to him, and he sighed.

 

“Yeah, I reminded them of that. Anyway, I'm counting on you, Bas. You've told me that she isn't a murderer, and I trust your judgment. The only way to save her is to get her to talk.”

 

`Uh-huh, except we can't seem to talk at all.'

 

`Don't be so harsh . . . I mean, you've gotten some information out of her, right?'

 

`Some information? Like what?'

 

`She says she has no family to speak of.'

 

`That could be a lie.'

 

`Could be, sure. I don't think it is.'

 

`Oh? And what makes you the expert on this?'

 

`Think about it, Bas. If she had family, she certainly would have tried to get away, at least to tell them she's safe, wouldn't you think?'

 

`Not necessarily. She wouldn't put them in danger, would she?'

 

`And you've told her that she's just being brought in for questioning.'

 

He sighed. `Okay, fine. She has no family. What else have `we' learned?'

 

`There's also the idea that for reasons she won't elaborate on, she hates your father.'

 

Bas snorted.

 

`Okay, not exactly your father . . . but she hates the tai-youkai.'

 

`There's not a lot of difference there.'

 

`There is. Cain is your father, and he's the tai-youkai, but the tai-youkai is not your father. You know the difference.'

 

`She hates the office of the tai-youkai, is what you mean.'

 

`Yes.'

 

`Good thing she doesn't know who I am, then. She already hates me enough.'

 

`That's the thing, Bas . . . I don't think she hates you, at all.'

 

`Uh-huh . . .'

 

`Seriously, I don't.'

 

`Okay, then I don't like her.'

 

`You do, too.'

 

`Oh?'

 

`Sure you do. If you didn't, why would you lie about having a girlfriend?'

 

`What do you mean, why? You heard her. She'd never leave me alone otherwise!'

 

`I think you like her.'

 

`I don't—'

 

`I think you need a reason to keep her away from you . . . at least, you think you do.'

 

`It's not—'

 

`There're only a few degrees of separation between love and hate, Bas, just so you know.'

 

Bas sighed and propped his head on his hand, watching as Sydnie's eyes darted to the closet once more.

 

`A few degrees of separation? That's a bunch of bullshit . . .'

 

She drew her legs up against her chest, wrapped her arms around her shins and rested her chin on her knees.

 

`Why does she always have to look so damn lonely?' he fumed, dropping the newspaper in a careless heap on the floor. So fragile . . . so delicate . . . and so very, very sad . . .

 

The knock on the door drew him out of his reverie, and Bas let out a deep breath as he heaved himself out of the chair and strode over to answer the door. The bellhop smiled as Bas stepped aside. “Evening, sir . . . miss.”

 

Bas watched as the boy wheeled the cart past, digging into his pocket for a few dollars for a tip. Glancing up long enough to intercept the young man's bemusement as he stared at Sydnie, who was still sitting on the bed, Bas cleared his throat loudly and jerked his head toward the door. “Thank you,” he grumbled, trying not to wonder just why the bellhop's ardent attention on Sydnie bothered him.

 

The boy blushed slightly and hurried back the way he'd come, pausing only long enough to take the money from Bas' hand before slipping past him. Bas watched him go, arms crossed over his chest, until he disappeared into the elevator. Moments later, Bas heard the door slide closed.

 

`Where the hell is she now?' he growled, scanning the room as he slowly shook his head. He could sense her youki near, and he knew that she hadn't tried to escape. Closing his eyes, he dragged a tired hand over his face and sighed. She was close . . . very close.

 

In his mind, he could see her, gazing at the closet.

 

`The closet . . .'

 

Pausing long enough to pour a glass of milk for the stubborn girl, he carried it over and slowly pushed open the doors. “Your food's here,” he told her gently, kneeling down and holding the glass out toward her.

 

She glanced at the milk but made no move to take it. He'd have been surprised if she had. Setting it carefully on the floor, he pushed it toward her then sat back on his haunches. “How about you come out of the closet and eat?”

 

“I don't need it,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

 

Bas nodded slowly. “I know you don't,” he agreed. “Humor me, will you?”

 

“Why should I?” she asked listlessly.

 

“I'll get in trouble, you know,” he teased, deciding to try a different tactic. “The tai-youkai might think I starved you, and then I'll catch seven kinds of hell.”

 

“I told you, I don't need it.”

 

He sighed. “Okay, okay . . . if you change your mind . . .”

 

“I won't.”

 

Another inspiration hit him, and Bas scooted the milk a little closer to her. “I'll make you a deal, Sydnie.”

 

That seemed to have gotten her attention. “What kind of deal?”

 

He shrugged and stood up. “If you eat your dinner, I'll give you something.”

 

She wrinkled her nose, gaze narrowing in suspicion. Her aura seemed to close in around her, protecting her, he supposed. “I already told you, I—”

 

“—Don't need anything from me; I know.” Bas stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged, fighting down the urge to blush as he concentrated instead on luring her out of the closet. “It's just something little. I thought you'd like it . . .”

 

“A comb to match the brush?” she grumbled.

 

Bas sighed. “No, Sydnie.”

 

“What's it for, then?”

 

“Nothing. It's completely useless, actually.”

 

“Useless? Why would you buy something useless?” she scoffed.

 

“I don't know. I thought you'd like it. If you don't want it, you can throw it away, but you can't have it until after you eat.”

 

Her face contorted in a stubborn scowl. “I don't want it, puppy.”

 

“That's fine. Do what you want.”

 

He walked away, retrieving the newspaper and sat down with a quiet groan. Leafing through to find the sports section, he browsed the football scores and pretended to ignore Sydnie.

 

“What . . . is it?” she asked.

 

He glanced over the top of the paper and bit his cheek to keep from grinning. She's crawled halfway out of the closet and was peering around the accordion-style doors, her gaze still suspicious but her eyes glowing with curiosity. “Dunno. Guess you have to eat before you find out, cat.”

 

“I didn't say I wanted it,” she shot back, cheeks pinking prettily as she scooted back into the closet just a little. “I just wondered.”

 

“I know; I know . . . come on, Sydnie.”

 

She looked around slowly, searching for something. “I don't see it,” she challenged.

 

“It's in my suitcase.”

 

She snorted. “You're a liar, then.”

 

“I am?”

 

“Yes . . . I looked in your suitcase, remember? I didn't see anything . . .”

 

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Maybe you didn't look in the right place.”

 

She made a face but hesitantly crawled forward a few paces. “You're not lying?”

 

He shook his head again. “Nope.”

 

“And it isn't useful? Not at all?”

 

“Not in the slightest.”

 

She sat still, bit her lip. He was starting to think that she wasn't going to fall for it after all, but she slowly stood up and shuffled toward the table. “What's that?” she asked, nodding at the plate.

 

Bas glanced at it and shrugged. He'd avoided ordering her something that required a knife since he hated to see her stubbornly struggle with the utensil. “Beef tips and mushrooms . . . It's good. Try it.”

 

“Beef tips?”

 

“Steak.”

 

“I know what beef is.”

 

“Just try it.”

 

She reluctantly slipped into the chair and sniffed at the food. “Is it big or little?”

 

“Is what big or little?”

 

She carefully stabbed a mushroom with her fork. “The useless thing.”

 

“Oh . . . it's little.”

 

“Why would you buy something useless?” she asked grudgingly, lifting the mushroom to her lips and nibbling at it. She made a face and leaned the fork against the plate. “Those aren't good,” she declared.

 

“Leave them if you don't like them. Just eat the steak . . . and the vegetables.”

 

She cleared her throat. “But that's wasteful.”

 

Bas stifled a sigh. “Fine . . . I'll eat them, then.”

 

“You like mushrooms?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

She made a face and glanced around uncomfortably.

 

“What is it?” he asked.

 

“I left my glass in the closet.”

 

Bas stood up and retrieved the empty glass with a smirk. Glancing back toward Sydnie, he saw her sweep the condiment packets off the table. She peeked at him, but he turned away before she could see him watching. Sliding his eyes to the side, he watched her hurry over to stash the packets away in her purse before skittering back to her seat. He'd come to understand that the peculiar habit was more of a compulsion than anything else, and since she tended to get overly embarrassed about it, he tried to make sure that she didn't realize that he knew what she was doing.

 

He picked up the glass and sighed inwardly. Somehow he'd known that she'd drink the milk as soon as he turned his back. Detouring into the bathroom long enough to rise the glass out, he strode over and set the glass on the table. She watched as he carefully filled the glass then pushed it toward her, her expression grudgingly thankful. He hid his smile as he sat back down again. “There.”

 

She blinked at the glass and shot him a quick glance. “Thank you.”

 

“You're welcome.”

 

She ate the steak and green beans without complaint. Bas stabbed mushrooms with his claw and ate those, too. Eight glasses of milk later, she sat back and stared at him expectantly. “Well?” she prompted.

 

He shook his head in mock dismay. “More milk?” he deadpanned.

 

She almost grinned. “The pitcher is empty.”

 

“I can order more . . . or you can.”

 

She made a face. “I don't like to use phones.”

 

“All you have to do is dial nine-zero. That connects you to the front desk,” he added.

 

“I don't need more milk.”

 

Bas sighed and stood up, ambling over to his suitcase and unfastening the latches. “Do you want more?”

 

She twisted her hands together in her lap and scrunched up her shoulders. “. . . No.”

 

He smiled wanly as he dug the present he'd picked up earlier out of the small compartment on the side of his suitcase. Without bothering to close it, he reached for the phone instead, calling down to order more milk as Sydnie turned to stare at him.

 

“Here.”

 

Blinking, she leaned forward and peered at the small plastic case he held out to her. She reached out to touch it but jerked her hand back, as though she were afraid that he was going to yank it out from under her nose. She shot him a wary glance and leaned forward a little closer. “What is that?”

 

“It's a spoon, Sydnie.”

 

She made a face. “I know that! Why did you buy me a spoon?”

 

Bas sighed and slipped the box onto the table before slouching down in his chair. “It's a souvenir; that's all, and a cheesy one at that.”

 

She leaned to the side to stare at the spoon through the clear plastic case. “It's tiny.”

 

“Yeah, well . . .” He shook his head. “I bought two of them. I don't know . . . I thought . . . you've never been out of Los Angeles, right? I thought you should have something to remember the trip.”

 

She did a double take and unleashed a curt laugh. “Remember the trip? I'm going to be dead in the end. Awfully short memory, don't you think?”

 

Bas narrowed his gaze and crossed his ankles, settling deeper in his chair. “You're being taken in for questioning, Sydnie. Don't read more into it than that, all right?”

 

She cautiously reached out to touch the box then snatched it tight and brought it up under her nose. “Questioning. Right. For murder. Uh-huh.”

 

“The tai-youkai wants to know why.”

 

“Why, what?” she asked absently, tilting the box from side to side as she stared at the chintzy trinket.

 

“Why you killed Cal Richardson.”

 

“Oh, so you finally believe me?”

 

“I believe you,” he answered. “I also believe there's more to it than he was a `bad man'.”

 

“Why?” she challenged, green eyes flashing as she lifted her eyes to meet his.

 

“Because,” he parried, standing up to answer the knock on the door, “you also said that you hate the tai-youkai, so that would make him a bad man in your book, too. Do you plan on killing him?”

 

Sydnie wrinkled her nose. “No.”

 

“Yeah, I didn't think so.”

 

He took the pitcher from the bellhop and slipped a five dollar bill in the boy's hand before wordlessly shutting the door and taking his time, pouring milk into Sydnie's glass.

 

“What do you do with this?” she asked, her attention on the spoon once more.

 

“Nothing . . . just look at it, I guess. I told you, right? It's not really useful.”

 

She started to smile, her eyes glowing brightly. Just as suddenly as it began, it faded, and she glared at him as though she'd just realized something important. “You bought two of these?”

 

He nodded as he flopped back into his chair again. “Yes.”

 

Her gaze narrowed on him as one deep auburn eyebrow arched. “Is the other one for your bitch?”

 

He grimaced inwardly. He'd forgotten about that . . . “Actually, if you must know, it's for my mother.”

 

She blinked in surprise, the animosity dissipating as quickly as a spring storm on the ocean. “For . . . your . . . mother?”

 

`Oh, nice . . . way to go, Bas . . . You might not know much about girls, but do you really think that she's going to be flattered that you bought her the same thing you bought for your mom?'

 

`Shu-u-ut u-u-u-up!'

 

“Uh . . . yeah,” he replied, cheeks pinking as he waited for her tirade to swing into full-gear.

 

“Your mom . . . likes these?”

 

He nodded, unable to meet Sydnie's curious gaze. “Yeah . . . she . . . collects them. She's got a huge collection of them . . . cheap ones . . . expensive ones . . . I'm babbling . . .”

 

“You . . . really bought . . . me . . . something you bought your mom?”

 

“Yeah, I know. It's lame as hell. I'm sorry. If you don't like it, I'll just take it back and get you something else.”

 

Her reaction was almost violent. Bas blinked in shock as she smashed the small box against her chest with both hands, effectively sheltering it from view as she turned to the side as she uttered a territorial little growl—almost more of a hiss—and glowered at him. “You can't take it back! You gave it to me! It's mine!”

 

“I-w-y—You . . . like it?”

 

She swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes.”

 

“It's just a stupid little spoon,” he protested weakly, still shaken by the vehemence in her reaction.

 

“It's my stupid little spoon—and it isn't stupid, at all.”

 

“Okay,” he agreed quickly, holding up his hands to show his surrender. “It's yours, absolutely.”

 

“You can't take it,” she warned him.

 

“I won't,” he promised. “Sydnie . . .”

 

Satisfied that he wasn't going to try to take it from her, she lowered her hands and stared at the spoon once more. “Hmm?”

 

“I'll . . . I'll buy you one in every state we travel through.”

 

She seemed almost happy and looked completely surprised. “Okay,” she agreed slowly.

 

Bas finally broke into a smile. “Why is it that you'll accept the spoons but have a fit when I buy other stuff for you?”

 

Staring at him for a moment, her gaze friendly for once, she grinned shyly and shrugged, stroking the box with her delicate fingers. “That's simple,” she replied, her smile widening. “It's useless . . . it's a gift.”

 

“You could consider the other things to be gifts.”

 

She shook her head and reached for her milk. “No . . . I don't need you, Bas the Hunter . . . but it's okay to accept a gift.”

 

 

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A/N:

This chapter is dedicated to adamile. Thank you.

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Final Thought fromBas:

Gifts, huh …

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Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Phantasm): 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~