InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 7: Avouchment ❯ Aftermath ( Chapter 68 )

~~Chapter 68~~

~Aftermath~

 

~xXxXxXxXxXx~

 

 

Griffin grunted and rolled his eyes as Isabelle rather brusquely seized his wrist and forced his hand into a wooden bowl of warm water. He opened his mouth to tell her that her attention was completely unnecessary but snapped his mouth closed when she narrowed her eyes on him in silent warning. He sighed instead and tried not to grimace since it seemed like every muscle in his body was set to protest his uncharacteristic overexertion.

 

Satisfied that he would keep his hand in the bowl, she let out a deep breath and shuffled over to the window, arms crossed over her chest as she gnawed on her lower lip. Her anxiety was thick, strong, and Griffin had to dig the claws on his free hand into the arm of the chair to keep from stomping over there to distract her by making her yell at him, if nothing else.

 

“He's too sick to fight,” she murmured, more to herself than to Griffin. Sucking in a sharp breath, she suddenly grasped the windowsill that creaked under the pressure she was applying. “Damn it,” she hissed as the spike in her youki diminished slightly.

 

Pulling his hand out of the water with a shake of his head, Griffin started to rise as Isabelle whipped around to glower at him. “What do you think you're doing?” she demanded.

 

Griffin shot her a cursory glance and stubbornly shook his head. “What do you think?” he replied evenly.

 

“Not on your life, Griffin Marin,” she declared, stomping over to glare up at him.

 

“Move it, woman,” he growled.

 

“I don't think so.”

 

Something in the expression on her face, the absolute stubbornness that he hadn't seen in her before, stopped him, and while he knew damn well that she couldn't actually restrain him physically, something in her demeanor could and did. Scowl darkening since she refused to let him pass without incident, Griffin snorted loudly but sank back into the recliner again.

 

It was his fight, damn it, and it irritated him beyond all reason that her cousin had interfered, never mind that the cub had stepped in just in time to keep Gregory from harming Isabelle. Griffin could fight, even if the lot of them didn't want to admit as much. He wasn't completely useless, after all . . .

 

`Knock it off, Griffin, and be thankful that nothing happened to her; can't you?'

 

Gritting his teeth since `thankful' didn't even begin to describe the turmoil of emotion that he was having trouble dealing with, Griffin made a face as Isabelle tugged on his wrist, depositing his hand into the water bowl again.

 

To be honest, he'd never been quite so frightened in his life. After realizing that she wasn't at the hospital after all, he'd made it home in time to find that bastard herding her to his car, and, well, he'd snapped—or rather, something inside him had snapped. The smell of her blood, the fear that she'd been trying to desperately to hide . . . If he had been just a little later . . .

 

`Stop beating yourself up over that. You did get here in time, and that's enough.'

 

`Enough . . .'

 

No, it wasn't enough; not when Griffin knew damn well that the reason that the youkai was able to find his house and Isabelle was because he'd gotten a good whiff of Griffin's scent in the office. That was the only way he could have tracked her down. The familiar feeling of just not being quite good enough resurfaced with a vengeance, and that was more than impetus enough to force him out of his chair again.

 

“If you try to go outside again, I swear on all that's holy, I'll bash you over the head with that lamp to knock you out,” Isabelle warned.

 

Blinking at her threat, coupled by the idea that she really sounded like she meant it, Griffin snorted loudly and altered his direction, ignoring the throbbing ache that had settled into his chest where Gregory had directed his energy spear attack, and lumbered toward the window. The cub was holding his own, Griffin noted, not that he'd really expected any less. He'd damn well better be half-decent, given the arrogance that he exuded, and unlike Isabelle, who thought with her heart and emotions rather than with her head, Griffin also figured that the hanyou was just too stubborn to die without a fight, anyway. “He's fine,” Griffin muttered in an effort to alleviate some of the tension that enveloped her.

 

“Bakas, the lot of you,” she grumbled, rubbing her forearms without taking her eyes off the display in the front yard.

 

“Let me see your face.”

 

She waved him off with a flutter of her hand. Griffin rolled his eyes and grabbed her arm, tugging her around despite her resistance and tilting her chin so he could get a better look at the scratch that traversed her cheek. “Bastard,” he muttered under his breath, gently, clumsily, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the clean incision. It wasn't deep, not that it mattered. A surge of rage rose inside him, so deep, so powerful, so consuming, that he couldn't help the menacing growl that escaped him. Isabelle opened her mouth to say something but gasped and pulled away when an eruption of energy shot straight into the air—as her cousin's body was held suspended ten feet off the ground by the column of light—as the sound of his scream permeated the closed window.

 

She started to dart away. Griffin caught her arm. “What the hell do you think you can do?” he demanded in a harsher tone than he'd intended.

 

“I-I could distract him! I could—”

 

“No!” Griffin snarled, dragging her roughly against his chest. She fought against him, gave up a token resistance. In the end, though, she uttered a strangled cry, her hands gripping onto his sleeves tightly.

 

Gritting his teeth, he turned enough that she couldn't see outside without some effort if she tried. The cub was down on his hands and knees while Alastair Gregory crawled out of the earth like some macabre nightmare.

 

Emotions warred inside him. Common sense told him that Gunnar was definitely in trouble, and as much as he wanted to help him, he wasn't entirely certain how much he had left, himself. Isabelle wasn't crying, but her fear was choking him, and fighting against the overwhelming need to comfort her . . . it wasn't a simple thing.

 

The hanyou tried to push himself to his feet. From his vantage point, Griffin saw him vomit. Wincing as the conflict within him spiraled higher, he forced himself to step back, to let go of Isabelle. “Stay in the hou—” he started to say only to be cut short when a fissure of light cut across the yard, smacking into Alastair's chest and bearing the youkai back.

 

“Zelig,” he whispered as the tai-youkai stepped up beside Gunnar.

 

Isabelle's breath whooshed out of her in a rush of relief, the unerring belief that her grandfather could fix anything, he supposed. “Grandpa,” she squeaked in a broken whisper as Cain helped Gunnar to his feet. The two seemed to be having some sort of exchange, and Griffin wasn't at all surprised to see the young hanyou turn and stumble toward the house.

 

Isabelle saw it, too, and with a harsh cry, she broke away from Griffin's side to unlock the door.

 

“I'm . . . I'm fine, damn it,” the hanyou muttered as Isabelle dragged him into the living room a minute later.

 

“You're not fine, baka!” she countered. “Lie down and let me look at you.”

 

The hanyou shot Isabelle a cold look that she summarily ignored but did as he was told, veering over and all but dropping straight onto the sofa. Ashen, pale, his breathing was shallow and labored, and Griffin had to wonder what kind of mock-bravado had goaded the youngster into stepping foot outside, in the first place.

 

“You!” she suddenly blurted, rounding on her heel to glower at Griffin. “You need to rest, too! Sit back down, put your hand in that bowl, and don't you dare move again unless I tell you to!”

 

Griffin's eyes flared, and for the briefest of moments, he actually considered arguing with her. Then he snapped his mouth closed, his cheeks darkening to a ruddy hue as he stomped over to his recliner once more and shot her a glare as he sank back down again.

 

Lifting her eyebrows when he didn't stick his hand into the water right away, Isabelle looked like she was considering mayhem, and with a loud snort designed to let her know exactly what he thought of her bullying, he let his hand drop into the fluid with a loud `splash'.

 

“You men are really stupid, did you know that?” she grumbled, apparently satisfied that Griffin would stay where she'd told him to as she turned her attention back to her cousin once more. Ripping open a package of antiseptic wipes, she rubbed the raw patch on his cheek where he'd fallen. Gunnar sucked in a harsh breath and tried to jerk away from her. She reacted in kind, grasping his chin and wiping at the wound as though he were little more than a cub who'd gotten caught fighting.

 

“Of all the foolish, stupid, ignorant things to do! You knew I called Bastian, but no, you just had to be the hero, didn't you?” she went on.

 

“Bastian's in Bevelle, if you'll recall,” Gunnar retorted dryly, apparently deciding that fighting Isabelle wasn't worth the trouble.

 

“And what would you have done if Grandpa hadn't gotten here when he did?” she huffed.

 

Gunnar sighed and tried to lean away when Isabelle ripped open a package of gauze patches. “I would have gotten up and fought him.”

 

“Just like I said,” she shot back, “stupid . . . now where else are you hurt?”

 

“I'm fine, Izzy,” Gunnar maintained, reaching up to tug the makeshift bandage off his cheek but stopping when she planted her hands on her hips and glared at him. He made a show of rolling his eyes but let his hand drop away.

 

Griffin almost felt sorry for the cub—almost. Satisfied that Gunnar was going to heed her words, though, she turned back to face Griffin once more, and the very small trace bit of amusement that he'd felt seconds before gave way to a knot of trepidation as she stomped over to him again. “Take your shirt off,” she ordered in a no-nonsense tone of voice.

 

“Not on your life,” he ground out.

 

“I need to see where you were hit,” she explained in a voice that Griffin likened to a kindergarten teacher scolding a child for eating paste. “Take it off.”

 

“No.”

 

She rolled her eyes and scowled at him. “Now, or I swear, I'll—”

 

“I won't, and you can't make me,” he interjected.

 

`Wonderful . . . now you sound like the paste-eater,' his youkai intoned.

 

`Shut. Up.'

 

“Don't tell me it doesn't hurt, because I know damn well that it does,” she countered. “Besides . . . those energy attacks can do more harm under the skin than they do to the skin, itself.”

 

“Then if I keel over, dead, then I guess you'll know why because there's no way in hell that I'm taking anything off, so you can just forget it, Jezebel,” he shot back.

 

Her retort was cut short, though, when the slow creak of approaching footsteps drew her attention, instead. Whipping around in time to see her grandfather step into the room, she uttered a terse little cry and ran to his side, her eyes scanning over him in a worried sort of way. “Grandpa, are you—?”

 

The tai-youkai forced a wan smile entirely for Isabelle's benefit. “Don't worry,” he said with a sigh. “Gregory's dead.”

 

She looked a little dazed by the news, but she nodded slowly. “Stay here,” she murmured, turning toward the kitchen. “You need to clean up . . . Grandma will worry if you go home like that . . .”

 

Cain watched her go with a soft sigh. “You all right?” he asked Gunnar.

 

Gunnar nodded but didn't open his eyes.

 

“And you?” he asked, his gaze shifting to Griffin.

 

Griffin couldn't help the color that flooded his features as he shifted under the tai-youkai's scrutiny. No, it wasn't the tai-youkai that made him feel uncomfortable. It was facing Isabelle's grandfather combined with the idea that he hadn't really been able to protect her, at all . . . “Fine,” he muttered, his gaze dropping away as he glowered at the floor.

 

“How did he find you?” Cain pressed.

 

Griffin cleared his throat. “He came to the university,” he admitted quietly. “Asked me to . . . to translate something, but I . . .” Grimacing at his perceived carelessness, Griffin shrugged and shook his head. “I should have known,” he forced himself to say. “I should have—”

 

“You did enough,” Cain cut in though not unkindly. “Thank you.”

 

He grunted but didn't get a chance to argue with him as Isabelle hurried back into the room again. Carefully turning her grandfather's head, she wiped his face with a clean, damp cloth. To Griffin's surprise, Cain simply stood there, allowing her to do what she wanted. “I'll put some ointment on that burn,” she murmured, gingerly wiping the angry red welt on Cain's cheek. “Oh, Grandpa . . .”

 

Cain smiled wanly though there wasn't a doubt in Griffin's mind that the expression was genuine, and it just left him wondering exactly how he could possibly remain so calm after the afternoon's unceremonious events. “It's not that stuff that reeks, is it?”

 

`Maybe it's because he knows,' Griffin's youkai whispered in his head.

 

`Knows what?'

 

`He knows . . . he knows what's important: his family and those he holds dear . . . and maybe that's why he can look so calm even after he's been forced to take a life . . .'

 

That thought gave him pause, and he swallowed hard. No, he supposed he'd never considered that, had he? Instead of beating himself up because he hadn't been able to keep Isabelle from being injured or because he hadn't been there in time to protect his nephew from having to fight, Zelig saw the other side, didn't he? That his granddaughter was safe, and that Gunnar was, too . . .

 

Was it really that simple? Could it really be as easy as that, to change the way he thought about things: things that he'd always considered his failures . . .

 

“You look like you could use some rest, Isabelle,” Cain's soft voice broke through Griffin's reverie. Touching Isabelle's cheek, he smiled once more and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I'll call you in a few days to get more details.”

 

She nodded in silence, hanging onto her grandfather's hand for a moment before she finally let go.

 

Cain's gaze lingered on her face for a moment before flicking over to Griffin then back to Isabelle once more. “Dr. Marin, I'd appreciate it if you'd make sure that she rests for awhile.”

 

Griffin grunted. “She . . . she never listens to me.”

 

Cain chuckled and shrugged as he started to turn away, and for just a moment, Griffin saw the trace hint of weariness in the man's gaze though he doubted that Isabelle had seen it. “Isabelle,” Cain cautioned without looking back, “maybe you should let him win once in awhile, don't you think?”

 

She smiled just a little. “Okay, Grandpa.”

 

Cain lifted a hand to wave over his shoulder, slipping out of the living room as quietly as he had come in.

 

 

~xXxXxXxXxXx~

 

 

Isabelle stood without moving for several moments, long after she'd heard the front door click softly in her grandfather's wake. A wave of weariness washed over her, and she sighed as she shook herself and turned to face Griffin.

 

Frowning at the floor in such a thoughtful way, he seemed completely absorbed in whatever he was contemplating, and she bit her lip, wondering if he were blaming himself for the whole altercation.

 

“Let me see your paw, Pooh Bear,” she remarked, closing the distance between them in a couple long strides.

 

That comment drew a snort from him—she wasn't surprised. In fact, she'd banked on it. Cheeks reddening as he snapped his mouth closed, he pulled his hand out of the water and jammed it under her nose.

 

“Nothing's broken,” she said at length as she methodically moved each of his fingers. The swelling had gone down a little, and while his knuckles were still red and raw and crisscrossed with a configuration of small scrapes from the impact with the concrete driveway, the wounds were starting to close up, much to her relief.

 

“I told you that already,” he reminded her, pulling his hand away and hunching forward as his scowl darkened. “Why don't you go fuss over him for awhile?”

 

She glanced at Gunnar then shrugged. “He's asleep,” she replied.

 

“He's not asleep. He's trying to avoid you; that's all.”

 

“Nope . . .” Gunnar slurred groggily without opening his eyes. “Definitely . . . asleep . . .”

 

“There, see?” she quipped. “Now let me look at your chest.”

 

He glared at her, and she had the distinct feeling that he was cursing her one-track mind. Still, she'd feel better if she saw his chest since the memory of the hit was entirely too fresh in her head. “I'm fine, damn it,” he insisted, reaching out to grab her hand as he gave her a quick yank. Catching her off-guard, she winced as she tumbled into his lap, her hand bracing her weight against the center of his chest. “Oof!” he grunted, face mottling in darker blotches of red though whether it was because she'd inadvertently hurt him or because she was in his lap, she wasn't certain.

 

Still, he didn't shove her off. In fact, he reached over the arm of the chair to dip his fingertips into the water again, only this time, he used the moisture to dab at the cut on her cheek. Isabelle blinked, staring at him as he scowled slightly in complete concentration. His fingers were clumsy, and yet the gesture was enough to bring tears to her eyes.

 

And suddenly the memories came flooding back—the memories that she'd been trying her hardest not to think about as she'd ranted and raved and tended his injuries. Why was it easier to do that when she was preoccupied with playing doctor? The consuming fear that had risen to choke her as she'd watched Griffin with his claws wrapped around the youkai's neck . . . his body being thrown back by the impact of Alastair Gregory's energy spears . . . Her emotions rose and fell, twisting into themselves until she felt like screaming, and vaguely, strangely, she felt his arms slowly lock around her.

 

“Y-you're leaking again,” he complained gruffly.

 

Isabelle sniffled and burrowed closer against his shoulder. She hadn't realized that she was sobbing, and while part of her couldn't help but feel bad for subjecting Griffin to such a deplorable display, she couldn't help but feel grateful for the comfort that he offered her, even if he wasn't that good at it. He was definitely good enough . . .

 

“S-s-sor-r-ry,” she stammered, her word punctuated by very loud hiccups.

 

He heaved a loud sigh but his arms tightened just a little. “Really got to look into flood insurance,” he muttered.

 

She half-choked, half-laughed, and sounded entirely pathetic in the process. “Are you sure you're not hurt?” she pressed.

 

“I'm . . .” Cutting himself off with another sigh, Griffin shook his head. “What're a few more scars?”

 

Squeezing her eyes closed, she couldn't help herself when she clenched a fistful of his shirt. The fear that had seized her slowly subsided, and with a deep, stuttering breath, she pushed herself up and forced a small smile. “It's just that when I saw you, and he . . .”

 

Trailing off as the kernel of a thought took root in her mind, Isabelle shook her head.

 

“—is she . . . to you . . .?”

 

The fierce look on Griffin's face as he uttered a low growl and smacked the youkai against the wall for good measure . . . “She's my—”

 

“She's my—”

 

Isabelle blinked and slowly lifted her questioning gaze to meet Griffin's far more suspicious one.

 

“She's my—”

 

“. . . Mate,” Isabelle whispered, her eyes flaring wide.

 

“What are you thinking?” he asked a little too cautiously.

 

“You said it,” she breathed, her expression filling with a wondrous sense of awe. “You . . . you did . . .”

 

“What did I . . . say?” he countered, his sense of foreboding echoed on his expression and growing more and more suspect with every passing moment.

 

“You're my mate,” she stated once more. “You said it! You . . . you did!”

 

Abject alarm registered on his features, and he tried to shove her off his lap as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I-I didn't!” he blustered, his face rapidly approaching the boiling point. “Y-you misunderstood! I n-n-never—”

 

“You did!” she argued, kissing him quickly. “You did . . . you did . . . you did!”

 

“I . . . did . . . not,” he argued between rapid-fire kisses.

 

Caught between a laugh and a happy sort of sob, Isabelle stood up and grabbed his hands. “Come on, Griffin Marin,” she demanded with a tug.

 

“W-where—? What—? Huh?”

 

The moment he was on his feet, she started to drag him toward the hallway. “You said it,” she reiterated with a shake of her head.

 

“W-wait! Stop it, woman!” he blustered, putting up a token resistance that Isabelle summarily ignored.

 

Gunnar heaved a heavy sigh and popped an eye open as he, too, slowly pushed himself to his feet. True, he felt like absolute hell, and all he really wanted to do was rest, but there was no way on earth that he was going to stay in this house while Isabelle claimed her mate . . .

 

 

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

A/N:

== == == == == == == == == ==

Reviewers

==========

MMorg

OROsan0677 ------ ladygeri ------ GalacticFire ------- inuyashaloverr ------ Jester08 ------ free_freeme_free ------ Starr Stealer ------ TheBlackThorn ------ FriskyPixie ------ Sesshomaru4Kagura4ever ------ sunshine161820 ------ Dark Inu Fan

==========

Forum Reviews

sueroxmysox ------- jmm6204 ------ GoodyKags ------ OROsan0677 ------ cutechick18 ------ BENGbeng ------ psycho_chick32 ------ Amerise ------ Mangaluva ------ MouF ------ Firedemon86 ------ DarkAngel

==========

Final Thought fromGunnar:

…Disgusting …

==========

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