InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 5: Phantasm ❯ Resolution ( Chapter 57 )

~~Chapter 57~~

~Resolution~

 

Sydnie sat on the cold concrete steps of the old brick building, staring at her hands as she slowly flexed her claws.

 

`Where is he?'

 

For once, her youkai voice remained silent.

 

`Maybe he just forgot . . .'

 

Sydnie's scowl deepened. `Just forgot?' she echoed incredulously. `Yeah . . . just . . . forgot.'

 

She'd been asleep on the sofa in his study when he got home, she supposed. That was the last place she remembered being. When she'd called the mansion, he'd said he'd be home shortly. Three hours later, he still wasn't home. Waking up this morning completely alone in the bed that he was supposed to share with her had been difficult to deal with—again. `You'd think I'd be used to it by now, wouldn't you? You'd think . . .'

 

If she picked up the telephone once this morning, she'd picked it up a hundred times. She hadn't called him. He had that important meeting, didn't he? The last thing he needed was her interruption while he was talking to the generals. `He'll be here . . . he promised,' she told herself over and over. She'd given up the pretense of last minute studying about ten o'clock, opting instead to pull on one of Bas' obscenely large sweatshirts and huddle alone in their bed.

 

She must have dozed off, though. Waking up and glancing at the clock, only to see that it was nearly twelve-thirty, she'd paced the living room until nearly twelve-forty-five when Evan showed up. “Figured he'd cop out,” the youth had said in a resigned sort of way. “He's never been good at realizing when he's had it all.”

 

“It's not that,” she maintained. “He's got that meeting today . . . he said it was important.”

 

“And you're not?” Evan countered. “When's the last time that moron spent any time with you?” She flinched at that, and Evan had relented. “Sorry, pussykins. Didn't mean to upset you.”

 

After trying to reach Bas' cell phone only to be sent immediately to voicemail, she'd accepted Evan's offer to take her into town. In the end, he'd pulled her onto his back and raced across the countryside, getting her to the testing site with five minutes to spare. He'd brushed off her thanks with a cocky little grin, but she'd declined his offer to stay and wait for her.

 

She wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting there, waiting for Bas. Everyone else, including the teacher who had given the examination, was long gone. He'd offered her a ride home. She hadn't even been able to muster a smile when she assured him that her husband would be there.

 

With a sigh, she let her forehead fall against the cool brick wall beside her. Somehow she felt more alone than she ever had before, even after Kit died . . . or maybe she just didn't remember that time well enough to make an accurate judgment.

 

The lengthening shadows cast by the surrounding buildings stretched over the ground as the sun crept toward the horizon. With a heavy sigh, she pushed herself to her feet, trudging down the cement steps and onto the sidewalk. Pausing a moment to scan the empty parking lot, Sydnie stifled a sigh and shouldered her purse before wrapping her arms over her stomach. Head bent, shoulders slumped, she willed her feet to move.

 

People were locking up buildings, stepping out on the streets and heading to their cars to make the drive home. Lifting her chin in time to see a young couple coming out of an insurance agency, she stopped long enough to watch them head to their car. He opened the door for her, mumbled something that made her smile as she climbed inside. The dull ache in Sydnie's chest grew stronger, and she pressed her hand over her heart, blinking quickly against the burn behind her eyes and forced herself to move on.

 

The screech of tires accompanied by the acrid stench of the rubber on the asphalt stopped her in her tracks. “Sydnie!” Bas called, killing the engine and stumbling out of the SUV. “I'm . . . I'm sorry. The meeting ran over a little, and then the road was blocked . . . Some guy's cattle got loose . . . My tire blew . . . I tried to call, but my cell was out of range . . . How'd you get to into town?” He shook his head quickly and forced a tentative little smile. “That doesn't matter, right? At least you made it for the test.”

 

She stared at him for a long moment. He looked sincere enough, she supposed, but she just couldn't forget the promise he'd made. For all his perceived sincerity, he had still broken another promise, and Sydnie . . . well, she'd heard the apologies once too often of late . . . He'd said that if it was important to her, then it was important to him, too. `Not important enough, apparently.' She flinched at the vindictiveness of her own thoughts and stepped away from him.

 

He sighed. “Was it that bad?” he asked, catching her elbow and gently pulling her toward him. He frowned. “I'm sorry, baby . . . next time, you'll pass it.”

 

Narrowing her eyes as indignant color blossomed in her cheeks, Sydnie jerked her arm away and carted around to stomp off without a word. She didn't trust herself to speak. All she wanted to do was to make him feel as badly as she did, and yet she couldn't lash out at him, either.

 

`Listen to what he has to say,' her youkai voice chided. `Ask him why he wasn't there . . . just ask him, can't you?'

 

No, she didn't think she could. She wasn't interested in hearing excuses. She didn't want him to explain another promise that he'd broken. She hated the feeling that everything else mattered more to him than she did, and yet . . . and yet, she desperately wished that everything were different . . .

 

Quickening her step, she ducked her chin a little lower and barreled onward, along the road that led home. She could hear Bas behind her. He'd left his vehicle behind. She didn't bother to glance back at him. If she looked at him, she'd cry . . .

 

“Sydnie, wait,” he finally called out. The sounds of the town had faded away. The sun dipped lower on the horizon, and Sydnie bit her cheek as tears pricked her eyes. “Sydnie . . .”

 

She shook her head but remained silent, hastening her step in her hurry to put some distance between herself and him.

 

He ran around her, caught her by the shoulders, holding her at arms' length to stop her. “Come on,” he coaxed. “I'll take you to dinner. We can study more, okay? You can always take the test again.”

 

“How was your meeting?” she asked quietly, proud of the way she was able to keep her voice from trembling; proud of the steadiness in her gaze as she finally deigned to look at him.

 

Bas sighed, letting his hands drop and stuffing his hands into his pockets as he shuffled his feet in the grass. “It was good . . . they—the generals—liked the idea . . . I had to stay a little longer than I planned to, though. Dad wanted my input on the replacement general he was recommending for the Canadian region. The guy's Dad's choice, but . . . if he's willing to serve under me later, then Dad figured I should have a say in it. . .” Bas shook his head, realizing that Sydnie really didn't have much interest in the generals or the meeting. “Well, you know what they say: `if it ain't broke . . .'”

 

“And this new division? You'll be working a lot?”

 

“Yeah, sure . . . but—”

 

She swallowed hard, willing herself to remain calm in light of Bas' admission. “I thought so,” she replied, brushing past him and breaking into a sprint.

 

Bas uttered a heavy sigh but gave chase. She could feel him behind her though she didn't look to confirm it.

Sprinting into the trees that lined the road, she dodged over rocks and tree roots, needing to run; just to run.

 

Tears clouded her vision, and still she ran. Memories of the times when he'd chased her down cut into her deep, leaving gashes that he couldn't see; leaving her torn and bleeding in places that she could feel but was powerless to doctor. She'd forced herself into his life—she hadn't really stopped to think about whether or not he wanted it, too. Could she really blame him if she didn't fit into it? It'd been different while they were on the road, wasn't it? He'd concentrated on her because . . .

 

She grimaced, dashing her hand over her eyes as she pushed herself faster. Stumbling over a tree root, she caught herself and pressed onward.

 

`Say it, Sydnie, if you really believe it.'

 

Uttering a soft whimper as she broke out of the trees and over a fence into a freshly plowed field, she kept running. `Because . . . I was his . . . job . . .'

 

And that was the real reason, wasn't it; the reason that she was loathe to tell him just how unhappy she'd been of late. Afraid that he'd be forced to choose between his responsibilities and her . . . afraid that she'd lose . . . even more afraid that she'd be left alone again . . . She'd rather live a life in the background with whatever Bas could spare for her than live a life without him, wouldn't she? But Bas . . . Had he really wanted a wife—a mate—at all?

 

Slamming into the back door, Sydnie struggled to breathe as she jerked the screen open with a vicious yank and ran inside. She sprinted through the kitchen into the foyer, heading for the staircase as she heard Bas fumble with the screen door. It was all her fault, wasn't it? She was the one who had forced him into agreeing to become her mate sooner than he'd wanted to. She was the one who couldn't control her insecurities . . . She'd brought everything on herself, and Bas . . . Bas was too good a person to complain.

 

On an impulse, she veered to the right, throwing the front door open before her mate managed to get inside. Peering over her shoulder as she broke for the road, she wasn't surprised that Bas hadn't seemed to realize that she'd slipped out again.

 

Turning her attention straight ahead, she bit her lip and swallowed hard. Maybe it really was hopeless, after all. Still, she had to try . . .

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

Cain stepped outside the Zelig mansion, leaning to the side to peek in the window to make sure that Gin wasn't hot on his trail. The last couple weeks, she'd been even worse in her insistence that he stop smoking. True enough, he normally only indulged the habit when he was under a lot of stress, and while he wasn't under the same sort of stress as he had been while Bas had been on the run, this sort of stress was almost worse. Having stepped out of the quarterly generals' meeting in time to field a call from the school, Cain was at his wit's end with his youngest son. The little debaucher was at it again: this time with the principal's daughter in the middle of a film in chemistry class. It had taken thirty minutes of profuse apologizing while Evan had sat there grinning like a fool and a sizeable donation to the drama department to get the principal to calm down enough not to expel Evan for his antics, and when Cain had calmed down enough to summon Evan to his study for `The Lecture', Gin had informed him that he'd run off.

 

`He's got to get that from his mother,' he mused, digging in his pocket for a rumpled pack of cigarettes. `He sure as hell doesn't get it from me.'

 

Lighting a cigarette and shaking out the match before lifting his head, Cain's thoughtful scowl darkened when he noticed his new daughter-in-law sitting on the patio stairs, shoulders slumped, head ducked, looking like she didn't have a friend in the world. Staring at his cigarette for a long moment, he slowly shuffled toward her, making sure that he made more than enough noise to warn her of his impending approach. The scent of her tears stopped him in his tracks, and he leaned his head to the side. She wasn't crying, no, but she had been. Cain could only wonder why.

 

“You smoke, right?” he said in a carefully neutral tone.

 

Sydnie shot to her feet and whipped around to face him, her eyes wide, bright . . . frightened.

 

“Here,” Cain offered, tossing the pack to her. “You look like you could use one . . . just don't tell Gin I gave it to you—please. Bas here?”

 

She shrugged, lighting a cigarette and waving the pack back and forth, as though she weren't certain whether or not he wanted them back. She held it out to him, and he took it. Her hands were shaking as she lit the cigarette with the match that he struck for her. “No . . . not yet, at least . . .” she said after taking a deep drag. “I . . . I wanted to talk . . . to you.” She made a face and quickly shook her head. “No, that's not right. I wanted to ask you something.”

 

“Okay,” he prompted, waiting for her to speak.

 

She grimaced. “Could we . . . maybe . . . go for a walk or something?”

 

Cain nodded as slow understanding crept up on him. “I see . . . you don't want Bas to know that you're here?”

 

She nodded then shook her head and finally shrugged. “Something like that.”

 

“All right.”

 

Striding past her, he led the way across the yard and down the steps toward the beach, noting out of the corner of his eyes that she kept looking back over her shoulder as though she expected Bas to come tearing out of nowhere. Cain pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and hit the first number on speed-dial. Gin answered after the first ring. “Hello?”

 

“Gin, I'm taking a walk with Sydnie . . . if Bas shows up, why don't you preoccupy him until we get back?”

 

“Is something wrong?” Gin asked.

 

“Nope,” Cain assured her despite the nagging thought that maybe things really weren't fine, at all.

 

“Okay,” Gin agreed. “Oh! He's here now!”

 

“Thanks, Gin,” he said, snapping the phone closed and dropping it back into his pocket. “How was your test?” he asked Sydnie.

 

She seemed surprised by his question but stopped long enough to dig a paper out of her purse. “Fine,” she replied, handing him the slightly rumpled certificate.

 

It wasn't a diploma; it was her test results. Cain's eyebrows shot up in surprise as he stared at the marks. She hadn't missed a single question; not one. “Impressive,” he told her. “Very nice.”

 

She blushed slightly but didn't smile, biting her lip and crossing her arms over her chest in a purely protective manner. “The teacher said that they'd mail me my GED,” she said. “Guess that's something.”

 

Cain smiled. “Sure, it is. Gin'll want to throw a party for you, I imagine.” She didn't reply, and Cain sighed. “That's not really why you came to see me, was it?”

 

She shook her head and scrunched her shoulders up a little more. “No.”

 

Tossing his cigarette away, Cain stuffed his hands in his pockets and started walking once more. Sydnie fell in step beside him, scowling at the beach below her feet. “I've always liked the ocean,” Cain remarked. “Kind of calming . . .”

 

“Yeah,” she agreed absently. “You . . . you're tai-youkai . . .”

 

Cain blinked, casting Sydnie a questioning glance before nodding slowly. “I am.”

 

She sighed. “Then you know all the . . . all the laws, right?”

 

He nodded again. “Pretty much.”

 

“Can . . . can a mating be . . . undone?”

 

Stopping abruptly, Cain turned to stare at the cat-youkai. “Undone?” he repeated with a shake of his head. “You . . . regret becoming Bas' mate?”

 

She shook her head quickly, refusing to meet his gaze as her cheeks reddened; as the scent of fresh tears assailed Cain's nostrils. “I don't,” she replied, knitting her hands together in a decidedly nervous fashion. “I . . . I think he . . . does . . .”

 

Cain frowned, trying to make sense of what Sydnie was telling him; trying to comprehend just why she'd think that Bas would regret that, of all things. “Sydnie, I don't think—”

 

“He doesn't have time for me,” she mumbled, swatting tears away with an angry flick of her hand. “I don't blame him—really I don't . . . he doesn't sleep in our bed . . . he didn't even take me to my test today.”

 

“Wh . . .? But he left in plenty of time.”

 

She shrugged—a defeated sort of gesture. “Something about cows and tires and things blowing up,” she grumbled. “Anyway, I just thought . . .” She paused, swallowing hard as Cain dug in his pocket for a handkerchief or something. “He'd be happier without me . . .”

 

“I don't think . . .” Cain grimaced. “I'm sorry, Sydnie . . . this is . . . my fault.”

 

She shook her head, her eyes lit with confusion.

 

Cain pulled a wrinkled but clean paint rag from his pocket and offered it to her. She took it rather hesitantly, drying her cheeks and sniffling pathetically. “Bas has never told me when I've asked too much of him. He's always just sucked it up and done it, even if it was more than he could handle. I think . . . I think that was the case, here. I didn't realize . . .” Waving off his unfinished thought, Cain heaved a sigh and glowered at the ocean. “I've never seen my son happier than he is when he's with you. Besides, you can't undo a mating. It's permanent. It's forever—He hasn't been sleeping in your bed?”

 

Sydnie flinched but nodded.

 

“I see . . .”

 

Sydnie shrugged once more. “I . . . I didn't think that he'd be busy all the time,” she murmured, scowl darkening, as though she hadn't wanted to admit as much to Cain.

 

Cain sighed again, hating the obvious upset in Sydnie's quiet tone. “I tell you what, Sydnie . . . you want a job?”

 

She looked at him as though he'd just sprouted another head. “A job?”

 

“Yeah, a job. Bas is starting up a new division for me—youkai special crimes and unsolved cases. He's good at checking into things, and he's damn good at seeing things through . . . Gunnar's going to be helping him with intelligence; that sort of thing, but . . . but I think those two need a boss—someone who can keep them on their toes . . . someone who can tell my son when he's done enough for one day . . . you know, so he can remember the way to his bedroom . . . so he can remember that his first and most important responsibility is to take care of his mate.”

 

“I could . . . be his . . . boss?” she asked slowly.

 

Cain nodded. “Listen, it's not a pretty job, Sydnie. Some of those cases are uglier than what happened to your sister, if you can believe that. Thing is, Bas is afraid that there's another child out there—another pup that fell through the cracks. He'd mentioned wanting to bring in someone with a different background.”

 

“Like me.”

 

“Yeah, like you. I'd thought of you a few times. I just wasn't sure how Bas would like it, and then . . .” He sighed. “Then I wasn't sure if you'd even be interested.”

 

“And I could tell him if he's working too hard?”

 

“I'd expect you to do that. Being a boss doesn't mean you just tell people what to do. It means you take care of those who push themselves just a little too hard. It means you make sure that they're not neglecting their families.”

 

“But I don't have any experience,” she admitted.

 

“Sydnie . . . Bas told me that you didn't know very much math, and yet you managed to learn it all in the course of a couple months. Besides . . . maybe you can give a new perspective on these cases. You've got a very different background from Bas and Gunnar. It's not a liability. We've got a woman named Myrna—hawk-youkai—doing intelligence, but she's under lockdown because of her connections with the Onyx. Maybe you . . . maybe you can get into places where Bas and Gunnar couldn't. I don't imagine they blend in well with a rougher sort of crowd. You can do that, can't you? Of course, I doubt Bas would let you go anywhere without him, but . . .”

 

Sydnie digested that in silence. Myrna . . . she was one of the Onyx? And yet Cain didn't want to kill her, any more than he wanted to have Sydnie put to death for her crimes. To work in that close a proximity to a woman who had been hired to assassinate her? Sydnie frowned. Somehow she had a feeling that the idea of this woman's presence would bother Bas much more than it bothered her . . .

 

Cain had another point, too. Bas had stood out in the bar the first time she'd seen him in the dimly lit, grungy bar. Too shiny, too polished . . . he hadn't belonged there, had he? She'd realized it right away . . .

 

Cain smiled and turned back toward the mansion. “Do you mind if I keep this awhile?” he asked, brandishing the test results so that she knew what he was talking about. “I'll return it; I promise.”

 

She looked confused but nodded. “Okay.”

 

His smile widened, and he turned to go. “Let me know what you think, Sydnie. The job's yours if you want it.”

 

She didn't reply as he strode away. Heading back toward the mansion, he stared at the test results once more. Most of the time, he thought that he and Gin had done a fairly decent job raising their children. Sometimes, though, he had to wonder.

 

If he had his way, his son wouldn't be forgetting that his mate should be the most important thing in his life, bar none, and Cain aimed to remind him of that . . .

 

 

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A/N:

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Reviewers

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MMorg

Usagiseren05 (Stories are planned for both Evan and Gunnar though you may have to wait awhile. At the moment, Evan's story is slated to be Purity 9: Subterfuge while Gunnar's story is scheduled to be Purity 12: Rebirth … Yes, Gunnar's story should be the last of the Purities … lol) ------ hanyouwings ------ OROsan0677 ------ RisikaFox ------ inuyashaloverr (actually, they were all trained sort of swapped around to be trained by everyone. Ryomaru, InuYasha, Toga, Sesshoumaru, Cain … even Kichiro helped to train the boys. They got very even training) ------ golden_kitsune ------ Acheronlover ------ merutenshi (No, Evan's story is the ninth one in the series) ------ FireDemon86

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Final Thought fromCain:

Undone …?

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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~