InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 6: Shameless ❯ Ultimatums ( Chapter 25 )

~~Chapter 25~~

~Ultimatums~

 

 

 

`. . . Six . . . seven . . . eight . . .'

 

Grimacing when the old step under her foot groaned, Jillian leaned down to peek under the rafter beams to see where Gavin was since she could tell from his youki that he wasn't in his bedroom. Letting out a deep breath after an anxious moment, she renewed her grip on the suitcase handle and started down the stairs once more.

 

`Nine . . . ten . . . almost there . . .'

 

Stepping down off the last step—the twelfth step—Jillian bit her lip and slowly shifted her gaze around the tidy ranch cabin. The painting of Rose and Roger Jamison that hung over the hulking stone fireplace seemed to be saying goodbye to her, and she managed a wan little smile. She'd been so hopeful when they'd gotten there, hadn't she? He'd invited her to come with him to his ranch—something he'd never done before, and that had lent her a measure of confidence.

 

She sighed. What was it her sister-in-law, Sydnie said sometimes? Ah, yes . . . `No sense crying over spilled milk, kitten . . .' Jillian supposed there was a certain level of truth in that . . .

 

She hadn't decided if she wanted to tell Gavin that she was leaving or not. She'd been of two minds about it all night. Up until the time she'd opened her door and crept into the hallway, she'd still not been completely decided. What did she expect, after all? Of course he'd try to stop her. It was in the hero's job description, wasn't it? That didn't mean that it would change anything, and Jillian . . . Closing her eyes for a long second, she willed away the ache, the pain, that tore at her heart. She just couldn't hold on to hope anymore, only to be crushed time and again. Maybe it really was better this way.

 

With one last glimpse around herself, she drew a deep, steadying breath and grasped the doorknob as she turned to leave.

 

“J-Jilli?”

 

Grimacing, she squared her shoulders and slowly glanced back at him. He'd come from the kitchen with a cup of coffee in his hands still wearing the same clothes he'd worn to the bar the night before, and it didn't take a genius to figure out that he'd been awake all night. “I . . . I'm leaving, Gavin,” she said softly, unable to look him in the eye.

 

“Wh-wh-what?” he stammered.

 

She turned away, eyes trained on the doorknob where her hand still rested. “I'm leaving,” she repeated.

 

“B-but you can't leave!” he blurted. The thud of the coffee mug on the table cracked like gunfire in her ears, and he strode across the room, smashing his hand against the door to keep it closed. “You can't!”

 

“Don't make this more difficult for me than it already is,” she replied. “Please, Gavin . . . please?”

 

“Jilli . . .”

 

“I can't do this anymore,” she whispered, closing her eyes against the angry wash of tears that threatened to spill over. `Don't you dare cry, Jillian Zelig! Don't you do it!' Biting back the emotions that choked her, she shook her head. “I can't, and you . . . you can't ask me to.”

 

“But . . .”

 

“Excuse me.”

 

He didn't move. “N-no . . . You can't leave. What . . . what would I do without you?”

 

She couldn't stand the raw quality of his voice. She couldn't stand to look into his eyes and see the turmoil in his gaze. Biting her cheek, she shook her head again, tamped down the desire to drop her suitcase and throw herself into his arms, to beg him to love her or at least to say that he did, even if it was all a lie . . . “You'll be fine, you know,” she forced herself to say, “and I'll . . . I'll be fine, too.”

 

“Don't do this!” he pleaded. “Jilli . . .”

 

The beep of a car's horn sounded outside, and Jillian jerked the door open when Gavin moved to the side to look out the window. She was out the door and down the steps before he managed to catch up with her, and when he did, he grasped her arm, pulling her around to face him. The unbridled panic in his eyes cut her deep as she met his gaze. She could feel her lower lip quivering as she blinked to stave back the tears. “Where would you go?” he asked quietly.

 

Jillian cleared her throat, shifting her eyes to the side in an effort not to look at Gavin. Looking at him would make her cry, and that was really the last thing she wanted to do. “I've got a ticket waiting for me at the airport,” she said. “Evan's flying me out to Japan.”

 

“Japan? But you . . .” He winced. “P-p-please don't go.”

 

“Goodbye, Gavin,” she replied, pulling away from him and hurrying to the waiting cab. Tugging the door open, she gasped in surprise when Gavin shoved the door closed once more.

 

“Get out of here,” he snarled at the driver.

 

“Gavin!”

 

“She's changed her mind,” he went on.

 

“I have not!” she shot back, eyebrows drawing together as she scowled at the stubborn youkai.

 

“Yes, she has,” Gavin barked, face reddening as he dug a wad of money out of his pocket and tossed it through the open passenger side window. “Get out of here. Now.”

 

The driver picked up the money and eyed it with a grin before raising his fingers in mock salute and putting the vehicle in reverse.

 

“But . . . No!” Jillian gasped as she watched incredulously as the taxi turned around and took off down the long driveway. “Ga-vin!” she hissed, rounding on him and pinning him with a fulminating glower.

 

He reacted in kind; chin lifting a notch despite the heightened color in his face. “I told you, Jilli . . . y-y-you can't leave,” he stammered. “I mean it. I-I-I said, `no'.”

 

Narrowing her eyes dangerously, she snatched up her suitcase with one hand and slung her purse over her shoulder with the other before stomping over to the assembly of ranch hands who had come out side when they'd seen the cab. Jillian could feel her own color rising, but that didn't stop her as she mustered as much dignity as she could—not much, given the circumstances—and stopped in front of Hank. “Hank, could you please give me a ride to the airport?” she asked.

 

“Do you like your job, Hank?” Gavin snarled as he strode up behind Jillian.

 

“You'd fire him for giving me a ride to the airport?” Jillian demanded.

 

Gavin made a face. “Yeah . . . yeah . . . I think I would.”

 

“Of all the low-down, nasty things . . .” She trailed off and drew a deep breath meant to assuage her rapidly rising temper. “Fine . . . May I borrow your truck, Hank?” she asked instead.

 

Hank opened his mouth and shuffled his feet as he leaned on the fence, glancing from Jillian to Gavin then back again. “Sorry, Jilli,” he mumbled. “Technically speaking, it ain't my truck.”

 

It didn't help that the man truly sounded sincere. Jillian squelched the urge to growl and shifted her gaze onto the rest of the ranch hands, none of whom would look her in the eye—including Cody, who seemed the most uncomfortable with the collective attention they were gathering. Not one of them would go against Gavin's direct orders, she supposed, and while she could appreciate their loyalty, at the moment, she wanted to kick each and every one of them square in the shin.

 

“All right,” she stated flatly, shooting Gavin a withering glare. “I'll walk.”

 

That said, she turned on her heel and stomped away from the gaggle of gaping men.

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

Gavin blinked and watched Jillian's retreating back, unable to comprehend just what was going on. Sure, he knew she was irritated with him, and yes, he had to allow that he completely deserved that, but for her to leave? Just like that? He couldn't believe it . . .

 

After tossing and turning in his empty bed for a couple hours, he'd given up a little before four in the morning and had gone downstairs to make a pot of coffee and check the email account. Mickey B. had been conspicuously quiet for the last few days. Bas had said that he didn't like it, and Gavin was inclined to agree. It brought to mind the proverbial calm before the storm, as far as he was concerned, but since there really wasn't a thing he could do about it, he'd spent the rest of the time before dawn sitting at the kitchen table, trying to concoct a plan to get Jillian to listen to him; to get her to forgive him.

 

Hank cleared his throat indelicately and shot Gavin a sidelong glance. “You just gonna stand there catching flies, Gavvie, or are you gonna go stop her?” he finally asked.

 

That got his attention well enough. Casting Hank a dark look, he ran after Jillian and caught her hand to stay her. “Will you wait?” he growled, his conflicting emotions culminating in an irritated snarl.

 

“No,” she stated flatly, “I won't! My plane leaves at ten, and you're trying to make me miss it!”

 

“Hell, yes, I'm trying to make you miss it!” he shot back. “You can't leave! Do you hear me? You can't!”

 

“Why can't I?” she demanded, her voice dropping to a whisper.

 

He grimaced, trying in vain to block out the chortles and sniggering that carried over the distance from the ranch hands. “Because . . . we're on vacation, right? You can't leave when we're on vacation . . .”

 

“No, Gavin, I'm on vacation. You're here to take care of the ranch, remember?”

 

“I know you're mad, but—”

 

“Mad?” She choked out a sad little laugh that made him wince. “Actually, I'm not mad. I just finally figured things out; that's all. I'll be fine.” She shrugged. “I have to grow up sometime, don't I?”

 

“I didn't mean that,” he blurted, desperate to make her understand. He could sense the finality in her resolve, the conviction in her stance. It was now or never, and he knew it. If he didn't act fast, she'd leave him for good. “I didn't mean any of that . . . I was just . . . Hank's always sort of teased me, you know? I just . . . I didn't . . .” He sighed and slowly shook his head. “That's not an excuse . . . I'm sorry.”

 

The look in her eyes made her seem so much older than her twenty-four years—sadder, more miserable than he could ever remember seeing her before . . . “I thought I could do it, you know? I thought I could sit there and watch you . . . but I couldn't . . . I can't . . . It kills me to see you with someone else. I can accept that you don't want to be my mate . . . but I can't watch it happen, either. I couldn't watch you with her—Shelly . . .”

 

Shaking his head, momentarily forgetting that Jillian still believed that he'd dated Shelly so long ago, Gavin grimaced. “Shelly? I-I never dated her, Jillian . . . Never . . . I-I would have told you if I'd dated anyone. I swear to God, I didn't.”

 

Jillian grimaced, setting the suitcase down and crossing her arms over her chest as she scowled at him. “Then why were you with her, Gavin? The girl at the restaurant told me you went there with Shelly all the time . . .”

 

“Sure I was . . . I was tutoring her. I tutored her the entire time I went to school there.”

 

Jillian's head snapped up at that. He didn't miss the flicker of hope light her eyes just for a moment before she smothered it. “Tutoring . . .?”

 

Gavin nodded. “Well . . . yeah . . . I've never been any good with girls. You know that.”

 

She swallowed hard, and he smelled the salt of tears seconds before he saw one slip down her cheek, and as much as he wanted to wipe it away, if he reached for her, she'd run . . . Wiping it away with her nimble fingers, she sniffled and rubbed her arms as though she were cold. “But it doesn't change anything, does it?” she murmured. “I mean, not really . . .”

 

“But that's not—I don't—I—you . . .”

 

She shook her head as the obduracy in her gaze solidified just a little more. With every second that ticked by, he could feel her slipping further away, and he knew that he was powerless to stop it. “Jillian, if you go . . . If you leave . . .”

 

“What do you want from me, Gavin?” she demanded.

 

He blinked and reached for her only to stop, to draw his hand back, when she shied away from him. “I want . . . what's best for you . . .”

 

“What's best for me?” she repeated. “Okay, so tell me. What is it that you think is best for me?”

 

She was challenging him, and he knew it: testing him to see if she could get him to answer her honestly. Jamming his hands into his pockets, he understood that she needed—no, she deserved—nothing less than the complete truth. What she did with it was her choice, but Gavin . . . maybe he should have told her how he felt a long time ago. Rubbing his eyes with a weary hand, he heaved a sigh and tried to figure out the best place to start. “You . . . deserve . . . to be with someone who . . . is better than me. I mean, I'm not . . . I'll never be able to take you to those parties and things; never be comfortable fitting into your lifestyle. I'm not . . .” He barked out a terse laugh—more of a lamenting sound than one of actual amusement. “I'm a . . . sci-fi geek . . . a nerd . . . I play . . . video games and read books without pictures . . . Hell, I have a five year subscription to Star Wars Collector magazine . . .”

 

Her gaze narrowed, iced over, and the memory of her, freezing the pond over while he stood in it, flitted through his mind. He might have been ten at the time, and he'd just told her that it was too chilly to indulge in a morning swim, and in retaliation, she manipulated the water, freezing it around his feet. He'd thought for sure that he was going to lose a toe or two by the time Cain was able to convince Jillian to release the water spell . . . Shaking his head to clear the memory away, he waited for the gauntlet to fall.

 

“And you think that those things about you bother me?” she asked quietly. “You think that I judge you because you go to sci-fi conventions? Because you collect dolls—”

 

“—Action figures,” he couldn't help grumbling.

 

“You think that I'm so shallow that those things make you any less of a man in my eyes? Go to hell, Gavin Jamison! Just go to hell!”

 

Whipping around on her heel, she grabbed her suitcase and started stomping away once more. Gavin grimaced and gave chase, catching her elbow and pulling her back despite her best efforts to extricate herself from his grasp. “Jilli, wait!”

 

“Why do you have to be such a jerk?” she yelled, wrenching her arm away from him. “Why?”

 

“Because!” he retorted, responding to her rising tone in kind. “Because I don't want you to make a mistake that you'll regret one day because you think you're in love with an idiot like me!”

 

“Idiot, huh?” she went on, eyes flashing, nostrils flaring, body quivering with her overwhelming emotions. “I suppose you are! I suppose that's all you've ever been!”

 

“Why would you want to be with someone like me?” he challenged. “You could have anyone—anyone in the world, and you think you want to be with me? Come on, Jillian! I'm . . . I . . . you deserve better! You deserve—”

 

The crack of her hand against his cheek resonated in the morning quiet. Gavin's head snapped to the side. Choking back a sob, she shot him a mutinous glower. “I hate you, Gavin! I . . . hate you . . .”

 

He might have believed her if she hadn't said it in a whisper. As though she couldn't quite stand the pain that was eating away at her, she clutched her stomach and struggled to control her tears. “I . . . I don't mean that,” she murmured as the tears spilled over, slipped down her cheeks. “Don't you know?”

 

A soft sound—more of a whine than anything else—escaped him, and he took a step toward her, holding out his hands in a defeated sort of gesture. “Jilli . . . Don't cry . . . Please don't cry . . .”

 

She sniffled and hiccupped, willing herself not to cry. It didn't work, and that somehow made him feel even worse. “Why are you doing this?” she whispered.

 

He flinched, stuffing his hands into his pockets and shuffling his feet in the gravel. “You're a supermodel . . . how could ever you be happy with a . . . a loser like me?”

 

That earned him a decisive glower before she slowly shook her head and turned her face away, and he had the distinct impression that she was trying her hardest not to slap him again. “You think that I wanted to be a model?” she gritted out from between clenched teeth. “It's your fault—all your fault!”

 

“M-my fault?” he stuttered. “How?”

 

Angrily swiping away her tears, her sniffles ruined the overall effect. “What else was I supposed to do? You were supposed to marry me when I finished high school—marry me and start a family with me! I never thought I'd need to do anything but be your wife and raise your children . . .”

 

Gavin frowned at Jillian's cryptic answer, unable to comprehend just what she was telling him. “You . . . you became a model because . . . I . . . because you thought I was . . .? But—”

 

She nodded miserably. “I didn't know what else to do,” she admitted. “I didn't have anything I could do . . .”

 

“Jilli . . . you could do anything . . . you always could . . .” Uttering a terse, sad little laugh, he slowly shook his head. “You could probably fly if you really wanted to . . .” Heaving a sigh, he shrugged, wishing he knew just what to say to make her stop crying; to make her smile again. “I didn't know . . . I'm sorry . . .”

 

His apology made her wince, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “You know, I tried,” she said, glaring through her tears at the empty horizon. “I really did . . .”

 

“Tried?”

 

She nodded. “I tried to forget about you . . . I thought it'd be better that way . . .” Wiping her cheek, she bit her lip and sniffled again. “I dated . . . all these guys . . . Evan set me up with all his friends, and I . . . I did try; I swear I did.”

 

Gavin didn't know what to say to that. The reminders of Jillian's string of boyfriends were things that Gavin didn't need. He'd followed all of those romances, such as they were, through the endless stream of gossip magazines. None of them had ever lasted more than a couple weeks, if that.

 

“They were nice enough; they took me places and bought me stuff, but you know . . . not one of them was you. Not one.” Uttering a terse little laugh, she shook her head in quiet disbelief. “I thought if I tried . . . but they weren't.” Drawing as deep a breath as she could manage, she wiped her cheeks once more and picked up her suitcase again. “I can't stay here, Gavin. It hurts too much.”

 

The savage jolt of panic that swelled inside him threatened to burst as he opened and closed his mouth, racking his brain for something to say that would stop her, that would make her want to stay. Desperation choked him with every step she took. He couldn't let this be the end, could he? Couldn't let his last memory of her be her tears—tears he'd caused, all because of his stupid, stubborn pride . . .

 

Evan's prophetic words came back to haunt him, and he grimaced, understanding completely, even if he hated to see the truth in it: the truth in himself . . . “Stop making her smile when she feels like crying. Take her down off that pedestal where you've worshipped her for years and get it through your fat fucking head: if she leaves you now, she won't come back . . .”

 

He'd done exactly that, hadn't he, and while it wasn't horrible, really, he knew deep down that the underlying truth was that in doing so, he'd also managed to elevate her above such base feelings as pain and sorrow . . . and by doing that, hadn't he done to her exactly what every single man who'd ever bought a magazine just to ogle the face and body of Jillian Zelig—always her face, her body, but never, ever the woman—did to her? Only in his case, it was much worse. He was the one she . . .

 

He recoiled as the understanding of that one simple word permeated his skull. Eyes widening in a quiet sense of wonder, he slowly shook his head as he forced himself to say it, at least in his head.

 

`I'm the one she . . .'

 

Watching in mute disbelief as she started away yet again, Gavin stood, frozen to the spot, as a more encompassing understanding started to sink in. It started out as a whisper; little more than a breath of an idea in his mind. It grew louder and louder until he had no choice but to listen, and when he did, he winced. She was leaving—really leaving. She'd had enough, and she was leaving. More than that was the understanding that if he let her go . . . The truth of it that he'd tried so long to ignore . . . If he let her walk away, he wouldn't make it, and if he couldn't live without her then that meant she couldn't do it, either . . .

 

`I'm the one she . . . loves . . .?'

 

`Move it, stupid! Move it before she gets away!' his youkai cut in.

 

Grimacing as he ran after her, he tried to tamp down the sense of desperation that was almost overwhelming him. “You!” he blurted, not bothering to clarify, at least not yet.

 

Jillian stopped and turned to face him, her questions awash in her gaze. “Me?” she asked reluctantly.

 

He nodded, skidding to a stop in front of her. “Yeah,” he breathed. “You . . .”

 

“What about me?”

 

He tried to smile. It felt more like a grimace. “M-m-my dream girl,” he mumbled, face reddening with the admission.

 

“I . . . I'm your . . . dream girl?”

 

He grimaced. “Y-yeah.”

 

“But . . . I don't have blonde hair,” she remarked.

 

“Close enough,” he grumbled. “Platinum blonde . . . it says blonde on your driver's license.”

 

She wrinkled her nose. “They didn't have a better choice, I suppose,” she ventured.

 

He nodded miserably, hoping—praying—that she understood just what he was trying to say. “Don't leave me, Jilli . . . I'll . . . if . . . if you stay, I swear . . . I swear I'll make you happy . . . I'll try, anyway. If you go . . . if you go, I'll . . . die.”

 

A cautious sense of wonder filled her eyes, and she went dead still for a full minute. “I need to hear you say it, Gavin,” she said slowly. “I need you to say exactly what you want.”

 

Fair enough, he figured. Too bad the words seemed to be stuck in his throat along with a fist-sized lump that didn't want to be dislodged. His entire life had come down to this one moment, with Jillian standing there staring at him as though she was expecting to hear something—anything—that would renew her faith in him, just one last time. Whether he deserved her or not didn't matter, after all. The only thing that did was the unrelenting understanding that if she left him now, he would die; absolutely would die. He needed her more than he needed to breathe, more than he needed anything else in the world, and if she wasn't there with him . . . “I-I-I . . . I want . . . I mean, will you . . .? I . . . Y-y-you are . . . m-m-my . . . mate.”

 

Dropping her suitcase and purse on the ground, her hands flew up to cover her mouth as her eyes glossed over with a new sheen of tears. In a blur of motion, she flew at him, throwing herself into his arms as she pulled him down into a desperate kiss that slammed through him like thunder as she rose up on her toes to hold him close. He stood, dumbfounded, for a long moment before slowly slipping his arms around her, returning the kiss she readily gave, and all-too-aware of the wolf-whistles and cat-calls coming from the audience of ranch hands. Breaking the contact with a shaky chuckle, Gavin smoothed Jillian's hair out of her face, rubbing her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “Is that a `yes'?”

 

A quiet sob escaped her and she started to nod, only to stop just as suddenly, and she let her hands drop away as a strange expression slammed over her features: a completely stubborn expression that was tinged with a stranger sense of complete and utter determination. “J-Jilli?” he questioned as she grabbed his hand and started dragging him back down the driveway toward the ranch house. “What . . .?”

 

She didn't reply. She just kept walking. He grimaced, entirely too aware of the laughter that his employees weren't even trying to hide. “Jillian,” he tried again.

 

“Come on, Gavvie,” she said without stopping. “You're not going back on your word.”

 

“I wasn't going to!” he exclaimed, face exploding in what had to be a violent red hue. “It's just—”

 

“Move it, cowboy . . . it's mating season at the OK Corral.”

 

He groaned at Jillian's choice of words.

 

“Hey, Jilli . . . decide to stay?” Hank called out as she dragged a crimson-faced Gavin past the gaping men.

 

“Yes, I did,” she said pleasantly enough though she didn't stop walking. “Can you bring up my suitcase?” she tossed over her shoulder as she passed.

 

“Sure thing,” Hank said with a laugh. “We'll leave it on the front porch . . . how's that? Why don't you stay out here and visit a spell?”

 

“Sorry, Hank. Maybe later. Right now, I'm going to go claim my mate!” she announced with a brilliant smile and a jaunty wave.

 

The ranch hands guffawed as Gavin's face shot up in flames. Trying in vain to tug away from her, he stumbled but kept moving. “Jil-li!” he hissed, ignoring the teasing banter that was being spewed behind them.

 

“Claim her mate?” Cody echoed with a confused shake of his head.

 

Hank chuckled, resting his forearms on the high fence railing. “They're going to go have sex, Cody,” he clarified. “Get back to work,” he ordered, glancing back at the rest of the hands who were still standing around, grinning like complete fools.

 

“O-oh,” Cody replied as a deep blush crept over his features. “Just a strange way to put it, I suppose.”

 

“Not if you knew them better,” Dax drawled, pushing himself away from the fence.

 

Cody still looked confused. “Why's that?”

 

Dax chuckled as he pushed open the gate and started away to retrieve Jillian's suitcase and purse. “Jillian's dad's one of the biggest mutts there is,” he replied.

 

Hank choked on a sip of soda. “Guess that's one way to put it,” he agreed.

 

“Daddy's not a mutt,” Jillian tossed over her shoulder.

 

Hank laughed. Dax shook his head as he strolled away, and Cody, still looking completely perplexed, stuffed his hands into his pockets and shuffled off toward the garage.

 

“C-c-can we talk about this?” Gavin asked as she dragged him up the porch steps, fighting desperately not to look as embarrassed as he felt.

 

“No, way, Gavvie,” she insisted, planting her hand in the center of his back to propel him toward the front door. “You're not getting a chance to change your mind again.”

 

“I-I-I won't!” he insisted. She let go of his hand when they stepped inside and closed the door, leaning back against it to bar his escape.

 

“Good,” she mused as the silence in the house rang in his ears—a welcome change from the grating laughter that he knew was still thick in the air outside. “You're mine now, Gavin Jamison . . . and I'm going to make sure that you know it.”

 

Snapping his mouth closed on the protests that he'd been formulating, Gavin swallowed hard as Jillian shot him a devilish grin and reached up to snag the buttons on her blouse. He wasn't sure if he should be worried or not, but maybe . . .

 

Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea, after all . . .

 

 

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Final Thought fromCody:

… That was … strange …

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Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Shameless): I do not claim any rights to InuYashaor 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~