InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 5: Phantasm ❯ Christmas ( Chapter 39 )

~~Chapter 39~~

~Christmas~

 

Sydnie peeked over the top of the psychology book, grudgingly watching as Bas carefully wrapped a long silk holly garland around the overly-fat pine tree he'd set up by the glass doors in the living room. Sparing a glance over his shoulder, he caught her eye and smiled shyly. She bit her lip and jerked the book back over her face. He heaved a sigh and started to hang blown glass ornaments from the tree branches.

 

`What do you expect, Bas? She's told you she hates Christmas.'

 

`I know,' he allowed. `Anyway, whose side are you on?'

 

`I'm not taking sides, `puppy' . . . I'm pointing out the obvious.'

 

`Et tu? You're my youkai blood, aren't you? Stop calling me `puppy'.'

 

`Entirely off topic, Sebastian. Besides, you should have known that the last thing Sydnie would want to do is to deck Ye Ole Tennenbaum with you.'

 

`Shuddup . . . this'll work.'

 

`What? You think that showing her that Christmas isn't a horrible thing will make a difference in the end?'

 

`Sure . . . in any case, it can't hurt.'

 

`Wishful thinking, if you ask me.'

 

`Yeah? Good thing I didn't ask.'

 

`In a bit of a mood, are we Bastian?'

 

Bas snorted, retrieving another box of glass ornaments. `This was more fun back home.'

 

``Course it was. Your mom made sure that everyone was laughing and joking, singing cheesy Christmas carols and plying the family with hot cocoa . . . I swear she spiked the cocoa . . . your father was entirely too goofy when you were setting up the tree. It was unnatural.'

 

Bas smiled despite himself. That was true enough. Cain did tend to lean toward the ridiculous on the day they set up the tree back home. Dragging Bas out of bed well before the crack of dawn so that the two of them could go stumble around the forest in order to find what Cain always referred to as `the perfect tree', it had taken years before Bas was fully able to grasp the significance of the gesture. After finally locating said-tree, Cain had cut it down carefully and tied the branches so that he and Bas could drag it back to the house with minimal damage.

 

Evan always waited by the sliding doors with Jillian since their mother had insisted that it was too cold for Evan to run around outside, which, in Bas' opinion, was complete bunk since he'd been doing the tree run with Cain ever since he could remember. Then again, maybe it was something that Gin just viewed as special between Cain and Bas. Maybe that was the real reason that Evan never accompanied them. In any case, they spent the rest of the day drinking Gin's special hot cocoa—spiked or not, it was always more than enough to warm him up after the hours spent in the cold—while setting up the tree and painstakingly decorating each branch.

 

Bas frowned as an odd sense of loss surged through him, and he had to wonder if Evan had gone with Cain this year since he wasn't at home . . .

 

At least Gin was still thinking of him. A box had arrived via UPS second day air earlier in the day. Stuffed full of wrapped packages with Gin's hand-painted little name cards attached to each one, Bas had smiled to himself. Gin had sent plenty of little gifts for Sydnie, and for some reason, the idea of his mother buying presents for the girl she had yet to actually meet was a huge thing to him. She'd also enclosed a letter, telling him to expect the caterers to stop by early on Christmas day to drop off a ready-to-eat meal for the two of them—Christmas dinner with all the fixings, even if they didn't taste quite the same as the dinners that Bas remembered best.

 

“Why are you going to all the trouble to set up a Christmas tree when we're the only people here?” Sydnie finally asked.

 

Bas shrugged. “Because the presents I bought you would look pretty stupid if I just set them on the floor, don't you think?”

 

She wrinkled her nose but couldn't help the interested glance she shot him. “You . . . bought me presents?”

 

He nodded. “Sure . . . did you really think I wouldn't?”

 

“I don't like Christmas, remember?”

 

Bas grabbed another box of the delicate ornaments. “You said Kit did, though, right?”

 

She flinched at the ease with which Bas used her sister's name. “I suppose,” she allowed. “That doesn't mean I have to.”

 

“Listen, Sydnie . . . I thought about that last night.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yep, and as I see it, you've just never had a really good Christmas to make an educated comparison.”

 

“And you're suffering from `do-gooder' syndrome,” she grumbled. “Can we just drop it?”

 

Bas dropped the empty box into the wooden crate that he'd dug out of the basement. “Never heard of that one. Is it in your book?”

 

“I'm sure it is,” she quipped. “I can look it up, if you want.”

 

“Never mind, kitty. Why don't you help me hang these ornaments?”

 

Lifting a hand to wave away his question, Sydnie deliberately kept her eyes trained on the book. “I'm busy, puppy. Besides, you're doing just fine without my help.”

 

Bas snorted. “Pfft! Everyone knows that decorating a Christmas tree takes more than just one person.”

 

“I'm helping,” she countered. “I'm watching, aren't I?”

 

“That's not really helping,” he pointed out with a crooked eyebrow.

 

“It's helping,” she argued, “and if you keep talking, I can't read my book.”

 

“I hate that book,” he grumbled since she had just gotten finished telling him earlier that she thought he was exhibiting the early signs of dementia.

 

“I'm educating myself,” she said.

 

He sighed and rolled his eyes but wandered back over to her. “Here, cat. You put this one on the tree.”

 

“What's this?” she echoed, staring at the nondescript white box he handed her.

 

“I picked it up in town yesterday. It's a keepsake ornament. I got it for you.”

 

Sydnie stared suspiciously at him before slowly letting her gaze drop to the box once more. Opening it and carefully pulling the porcelain ornament out, she turned it over in her hands and shot Bas a confused glance before staring at the little depiction of a cat snuggled with a sleeping dog before a roaring fireplace. “Do you think this is us?” she questioned.

 

Bas shrugged. “Sort of. I thought . . . I thought maybe we could collect these, you know? One every year for every good Christmas memory you make.”

 

Sydnie shook her head slowly, struggling to gather her waning bravado. “I see. Puppy—”

 

“We're meant to be together, Sydnie . . . you want that, don't you?”

 

“Sebastian . . .”

 

“Don't over-think it, okay? Just . . . let your heart decide.”

 

Sydnie smiled sadly, turning the ornament over in her hands. “Let my heart decide?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“It's not that simple.”

 

“It can be.”

 

She shook her head again. “I don't think it can. You're . . . you're . . . It's different now.”

 

“Not really.”

 

“But it is.”

 

“It doesn't have to be! Nothing's changed, Sydnie . . . I still feel the same, and you—”

 

“We're too different, you know. They'd never allow us to stay together. You're the next . . .” she swallowed hard, “. . . the next tai-youkai, and I'm nothing.”

 

Her softly uttered words ignited a hot rush of irritation, and he swung around, draping his hands on his hips to pin her with a menacing glower. “That's stupid! Damn it . . . do you think I care who you think you are? Do you think that really matters to me?”

 

“It should,” she argued. “Can you honestly think that it won't matter to your parents? To your father? Of course it will! You think they'd want you—their precious son—to be with me—a nobody—a murderer?”

 

“You're not a murderer, Sydnie . . . the tai-youkai . . .” Bas trailed off, unable to meet her gaze for a moment as the implications of what he was trying to admit sank in. Heaving a sigh, he knelt beside her and shook his head. “The tai-youkai . . . failed you.”

 

“You . . . you believe me?”

 

Bas swallowed hard and nodded. “Of course I do. I told you that last night.”

 

Sydnie smiled slightly—a sad, almost forlorn sort of smile—as she stared at the ornament still resting on her hand. “That's all I wanted,” she admitted quietly. “Back when it might have mattered, that's all I really wanted.”

 

Bas grimaced. “I know, baby. Cal Richardson can't hurt anyone again. You know that, right?”

 

“I know that.”

 

“Sydnie . . .”

 

She shook her head quickly, as though she knew what he was about to ask, and she probably did. “So where do I hang this ornament, puppy?”

 

Bas sighed but let it go, at least for the moment. True, he wanted—needed—the second name. At the moment, though, it was enough for him that she was willing to concede to a little victory on his part. “Wherever you want it.”

 

Sydnie stood up and wandered toward the tree, examining it closely. He shifted slightly to watch her, letting his forearms rest on his knees, hands dangling between his legs as a slow smile spread on his features. Wearing one of his bulky sweaters that had been folded in the closet, she looked even tinier than normal. It had surprised him this morning when she'd selected the garment though maybe it shouldn't have. In this place where he knew she felt completely out of sorts, the familiarity of his scent comforted her even if she did swear that they couldn't be together.

 

Slowly, carefully, she reached up, hooking the ornament's silver cord over an empty branch and adjusting the way it hung before stepping back and glancing at him a little uncertainly. “How's that?”

 

Bas' smile widened. “Perfect, kitty.”

 

She blinked, her cheeks pinking just slightly as she stepped back to get the full effect. “Maybe. . .”

 

Chuckling softly as she moved the ornament closer to the front of the tree, Bas wisely remained silent until she had repeated the inspection process once more. “There . . . much better,” she decided.

 

“Absolutely.”

 

She nodded. “Yeah?”

 

He grinned. “Yeah.”

 

Sydnie tilted her head to the side, regarding the tree with a critical eye. “Okay.”

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

Moaning softly as Sydnie felt the gentle but insistent shake of her shoulder, she squeezed closed a little tighter and burrowed deeper under the warmth of the blankets. Bas chuckled and shook her again. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

 

“Don't wanna,” she mumbled, burying her face against his chest.

 

“Come on, baby . . . It's Christmas.”

 

Sydnie whimpered and tried to ignore his efforts to rouse her.

 

“Don't you want to see if Santa Claus brought presents?”

 

That got her to sit up. Scowling at the puppy in such a way so as to let him know that she truly wondered if he had lost his mind, Sydnie wrinkled her nose and slowly shook her head. “There's no such thing as Santa Claus, Sebastian. Aren't you a little too old to believe in fairy tales?”

 

His smile dissipated but his eyes still glowed with his amusement. “You're never too old to believe in Santa Claus or fairy tales, Sydnie.”

 

Her expression stated quite plainly, exactly what she thought of that, and he rolled his eyes, bestowing an entirely loud, obscenely slobbery kiss on her cheek. “Puppy!” she protested just before she dissolved in a fit of helpless giggles.

 

“Come on, Sydnie. Don't you want your presents?”

 

She heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Presents?” she asked grudgingly.

 

“Yes, presents. What's Christmas without presents?”

 

“Hmm, I don't know . . .”

 

“All right,” he gave over with a mock grimace. “I'll just go downstairs . . . alone . . .”

 

“You really think that's going to work on me?”

 

He grinned unrepentantly. “Can't hurt to try, can it?”

 

She smiled despite herself. He was absolutely incorrigible this morning. In fact, she couldn't remember seeing him quite like this before . . . “What's gotten into you, puppy?”

 

“I got gifts for you, kitty, and I wrapped them myself.”

 

“Oh?”

 

He nodded. “Yep. Mom sent you some presents, too.”

 

Sydnie stiffened and slowly leaned up to look at Bas. “Why would she do that?”

 

He shrugged. “Guess Gunnar told her that you're my mate.”

 

She opened her mouth to argue with him. He pressed his index finger over her lips to shush her. “Not today, kitty, all right? Today's Christmas, and Christmas is supposed to be magical.”

 

“Magical?”

 

He nodded again, wrapping a long strand of her hair around his finger. “Yep . . . you never know what'll happen on Christmas day . . . and I won't even try to watch football.”

 

“No football? That is magical,” she retorted dryly.

 

Bas opened his mouth to complain but the chiming of the doorbell cut him off. Squeaking indignantly as Bas shoved Sydnie off his chest, she sat up, hair tousled lost in the copious folds of the blankets. “Where are you going?” she demanded, leaning forward to catch his hand as he tugged a pair of jeans over his boxer shorts.

 

“Caterer,” he explained. “You wanted a real Christmas dinner, right?”

 

She wrinkled her nose but scooted off the bed, pulling a thick, dark green blanket closer around her as she padded out of the bedroom on his heels. “Do you have catered dinners at home?”

 

“Nope,” he replied, running down the stairs. “But it was kind of short notice to get Mom to fly in to cook it, don't you think?”

 

“You can't cook?”

 

“Ha! No.”

 

“So there is something that the great Bas the Hunter can't do?” she teased.

 

“Oh, there're lots of things I can't do, kitty.” Bas jerked on the deadbolt lock and grimaced since it seemed to be quite stuck. “For example, I can't get this door open, damn it.”

 

“No swearing on Christmas,” she told him, gently pushing him aside and fiddling with the door. The lock finally snapped open, and she raised her eyebrows as she stepped back to let him open it.

 

Bas wrinkled his nose and jerked his head toward the archway that led into the living room. “Go on in, Sydnie. I'll be there in a minute.”

 

Sydnie bit her lip before whipping around and darting back up the stairs. She hadn't decided for sure, whether or not she really ought to give Bas a present since she was so adamant that she despised all things Christmas, but for some reason, she really, really wanted to give him something, too.

 

Discarding the blanket on the bed, she grabbed her purse and dug for the small, black velvet box. She'd bought it the day they'd gone clothes shopping while he'd been having the battery in his watch replaced. She hadn't taken the time to wrap it, but she didn't think he'd mind too much. Pausing for a moment to open the box and scrutinize the howling dog standing on a cliff etched in graphic relief onto a backdrop of a full moon, the platinum keychain had reminded her of Bas, and she hadn't thought twice about purchasing it despite the huge dent it had made in her savings.

 

She set the box down long enough to pull another of Sebastian's huge sweaters—this one a cream colored fisherman's style—over her head. It almost reached her knees, and she closed her eyes as the soothing scent of him lent her a small sense of security. Grabbing the gift box off the bed, she hurried back out of the room and down the stairs as Bas was closing the door behind the departing caterers.

 

“I knew there was a reason I never got rid of those stupid sweaters,” Bas murmured as he turned away from the door and grinned at Sydnie. “They look better on you than they ever did on me.”

 

She blushed but smiled slightly as he slipped an arm around her shoulders and led her into the living room.

 

Sydnie stopped short and blinked in surprise, staring at the tree, glowing in the soft illumination of the hundreds of lights that Bas had wrapped around it. Presents were arranged under the low branches, and when she glanced up to see Bas' face only to find him staring back down at her in a way that made her heart skip a beat. He didn't smile, but his eyes were shining brightly, a thousand emotions there for her to see. Sydnie tried to smile, but the gesture just didn't seem like it was enough. Bas leaned down, kissing her forehead and squeezing her shoulders. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

 

“Puppy . . .”

 

“Let's get your presents, Sydnie.”

 

She let him take her hand and pull her toward the tree. He let go and knelt down, rummaging through the gifts and handing her a beautifully wrapped box. Sydnie took it slowly, turning it over in her hands. The paper seemed to be hand-painted, and she frowned. “What's this?”

 

Bas spared her a glance before settling on the floor and crossing his legs. “Dunno . . . it's from Mom.”

 

“But the paper . . .”

 

“Mom and Dad always make their own paper,” he explained. “At least, most of the time. They've been known to use store stuff, though, if they run out of that.”

 

She bit her lip. “It's too pretty to tear.”

 

Bas chuckled. “It's just paper.”

 

She didn't know how to explain what she was thinking. To have put that much time and effort into something that she was just using to wrap a gift, and then for Bas not to understand what it should have meant to him . . . Sydnie shook her head. Maybe she was reading too much into things. Untying the plain brown raffia ribbon, Sydnie was relieved when the paper fell away without tearing. Bas' mother hadn't used tape to secure the paper, and Sydnie smoothed it carefully and set it aside.

 

The brown wooden box was plain yet beautiful, with the only embellishment being the scrolling vines that were intricately carved on the lid's smooth surface. The inside of the box was lined with deep red velvet, and Bas chuckled as he leaned over her shoulder to look at it. “It's a jewelry box,” he told her.

 

Sydnie blinked and glanced at him. “A jewelry box?”

 

He nodded. “You can put your locket in there, if you want.”

 

“So I could.”

 

He slipped another present into her hands. “Looks like Mom sent you more presents than she did me,” he remarked.

 

“I . . . I'm sorry.”

 

He chuckled. “Don't be. I don't mind.”

 

She shot him a tentative smile. “I'd like to thank her.”

 

Bas stared at her for a long moment then nodded. “You can do that. I'll call her later.”

 

Sydnie lowered her gaze, a strange sense of shyness shooting to the fore. Bas sighed softly before tearing the paper off a gift that his mother had sent for him.

 

`Magical, huh,' she thought as she stared at the jewelry box. `Maybe . . .'

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

Bas leaned back against the sofa, gazing at the pathetically wrapped present in his lap—the last one: the one he'd waited to give Sydnie. She was preoccupied with a plastic bottle of bubbles. Sitting on her knees, she blew bubbles into the air and giggled softly as they shot out of the pink plastic wand only to drift slowly to the thickly carpeted floor. He wasn't sure why he'd bought her the childish present, but she seemed to love it anyway.

 

He'd bought her all of those things he remembered best from his childhood: the nasty smelling plastic compound that could be blown into oddly misshapen balls . . . packages of balloons of every shape and size . . . rubber jacks with a ball that flew into the air when it hit the floor . . . a paddle with a rubber ball attached to the center of it via an elastic string and an industrial staple . . . He'd felt rather foolish last night when he'd sneaked out of bed to wrap everything. Sydnie, however, didn't seem to mind the juvenile gifts. In fact, she looked like she was having the time of her life, and that, in Bas' opinion, was more than worth the frustration he'd endured in trying to wrap everything.

 

His gaze fell on the wooden jewelry box, and he smiled. Sydnie didn't know, and at the moment, he was loathe to tell her . . . That box, he knew, had been made by Cain; carefully constructed from a sturdy branch from the white ash tree that stood in their back yard in Maine. Bas, himself, had helped his father cut the branch last spring. He'd wanted to make something for Gin—something simple yet beautiful—to hold all the shells that InuYasha still brought her every time he came to visit. Cain had carved the intricate design with his claws, not trusting a knife or a tool to do what he could better achieve with his hands. That his father had wanted Sydnie to have it . . . In Bas' mind, that spoke volumes.

 

“You've got one last present, kitty,” he said, breaking the companionable silence in the room.

 

Sydnie spared him a momentary glance before turning her attention back to the bubbles once more. “Oh?”

 

“Yep,” he told her, shaking his head since she seemed to be much more interested in the bubbles than she did in getting one last gift.

 

“You open it for me, puppy,” she told him. “I'm busy.”

 

He snorted. “No way. I already know what it is.”

 

“Okay, okay,” she agreed with a sigh as she screwed the cap back onto the container of bubbles and set it aside before turning her attention to Bas. “You're not going to try to steal my bubbles, are you?”

 

Bas snorted. “Pfft! No, kitty.” He held out the last package and made a face. The box, itself, was heart-shaped, which had been damn near impossible to wrap. After nearly half an hour of trying to wrap it, he'd finally given up and gone in search of a box to put the box in. He'd ended up tearing the paper a few times, though, and in the end, the tape-covered paper just looked, well, sad in comparison to the meticulously wrapped gifts that his mother had so painstakingly wrapped. Bas grimaced. “Never mind the paper,” he told her. “I'm not so good at that sort of thing.”

 

She grinned at the sorry-looking gift and giggled. “It's not so bad,” she assured him, shaking the box and holding it up to listen. The dull thump gave away nothing, and Bas smiled at the consternated look on her face.

 

“Just open it, kitty.”

 

Sydnie wrinkled her nose but tore into the paper. It didn't take long for her to drop the cardboard box to the side as she eyed the heart-shaped, black jeweler's box that was hidden inside. “What's this?”

 

Bas shrugged. “Open it. It's not much . . . I just thought . . . well, if you don't like it, I can take it back.”

 

Sydnie didn't comment other than a little snort at the idea that he would be getting that particular present back to exchange. He hid his smile as she slowly lifted the lid. The amusement that had lent her eyes the happy little sparkle that had been there most of the morning faded, and Bas flinched. “You . . . you bought me a pinwheel?” she asked quietly.

 

Bas tried not to look disappointed. “I just . . . I thought . . . you liked the one I bought you at the carnival . . . It really spins if you blow on it,” he went on, feeling lamer by the second. “You . . . don't like it . . .”

 

She shook the box slightly, the tiny gold pinwheel reflecting the light filtering through the glass doors behind her. The reflection caught in her eyes as she slowly lifted her gaze to meet his. “Will you put it on me?”

 

Bas blinked but nodded. Sydnie handed him the box and turned around, holding her hair up with one hand. Bas pulled the delicate chain from the securing slits in the foam that held the necklace in place and fastened it around her neck. “There.”

 

She reached up, fingering the charm with trembling fingers, and when she craned her neck to look back at him, he caught his breath at the unmasked emotion writ in the depths of her gaze. He reached out, brushing his finger along her cheek as a tender smile twitched at the corners of his lips. “I'm glad you like it,” he told her.

 

Sydnie nodded vaguely, her gaze dropping back to the tiny pinwheel once more.

 

Bas sighed, wishing that he dared to pull her into his arms. True, she still slept huddled on his chest, but there was a certain sense of distance that he just couldn't breech. Resigned to letting Sydnie indicate the intensity of their relationship, Bas stood up and started gathering trash.

 

“Sebastian?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

Sydnie grabbed his hand and tugged. “I . . . I have something . . . for you . . .”

 

He stopped abruptly and stared at her. “You do?”

 

She nodded, cheeks pinking as she held out a black velvet box.

 

Bas took it, casting her a cursory glance before flipping the lid back and staring at the platinum keychain. The dog standing on the cliff seemed majestic, powerful, proud . . . Was that how she saw him, too? Bas swallowed hard. “Sydnie . . .”

 

“You . . . like it?”

 

“Uh . . . yeah . . . thank you . . .”

 

Sydnie smiled shyly. “Merry Christmas, Bas the Hunter.”

 

Bas smiled, too, tucking Sydnie's hair behind her ear with a gentle hand. “Merry Christmas, kitty.”

 

 

~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~ *~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~

A/N:

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Reviewers

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Simply a Lady:

How do you handle the flow from once scene to another in a single chapter....I always mess up and have to rewrite mine three or four times...yours always comes out so smoothly...grumbles....

 

Normally I tend to simply think about the main points I want to cover in a chapter. Of those points, I try to figure out whose point of view I want to use. That's the gist of it, really. See? I really do think when I write … go figure … lol!

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MMorg

Merrick Zann ------ Corcione ------ hanyouwings ------ Crimson Dawns Dragon ------ trujinx ------ naiobi ------ Kuramas gurl ------ RisikaFox ------ jomitsui (thank you!) ------ OROsan0677 ------ DarkRaven826 ------ fallenangel7583 (thank you … you made me cry. LOL) ------ serendith ------ inuyashaloverr ------ FireDemon86 ------ Rawben ------ Simonkal of Inuy ------ vvkimbo07 ------ DragonHostile17 ------ 1Inuyashafan ------ adamile ------ JasonC ------ InUyAsHaRlZ (No, you can read them in any order, but they are more cohesive if you read them in order) ------ Kesstral ------ Impaired (and thank you, too!)

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Final Thought fromBas:

Magical Christmas …

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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~