InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 8: Vendetta ❯ Unease ( Chapter 23 )

~~Chapter 23~~

~Unease~

 

-=0=-

 

 

Samantha sat up in the cage, feeling inordinately restless though she was hard pressed to put her finger on why. She'd felt that way all day, really, and while she'd been forced to endure another bout of being strapped naked to a table while the white-coats poked and prodded and basically pestered her, she'd stared at the clock, willing the minutes and hours to pass.

 

Today's research—if one could call it that—was what she considered to be the morbid fascination with watching how fast she healed. They'd been astounded with how quickly the wound in her shoulder had closed up—she already knew that—but when the incision in her stomach had also disappeared so rapidly, they'd decided that they should see it, first hand.

 

So she'd done her level best to ignore them as they inflicted wounds on her fingertips and feet. They hadn't cut her more than a few centimeters at a time, though, and she hadn't really bled much, either. All in all, she'd figured that it was more annoying than painful, and there was the added bonus that it had thoroughly irritated the white-coats that she hadn't really shown any remarkable reactions to their brand of havoc—a feat that she was quite proud of, really . . .

 

And she was also quite healed by the time they'd shackled her and walked her back to the cage, accompanied, of course, by a legion of security guards after she'd pulled her smock back on.

 

Shackles aside, she rather felt like a rock star.

 

That thought made her giggle. She wasn't entirely sure why. She'd gone to one of her cousin's concerts once, and the entire affair had amused her. Seeing Evan Zelig surrounded by a host of bodyguards was absolutely one of the funniest things she'd ever seen, never mind that he could probably have kicked all their asses, if he'd wanted to.

 

He'd said later that it was all just a ruse. After all, his fans were mostly human, and they wouldn't have understood why Evan really didn't need a bodyguard, in the first place.

 

That she'd managed to require more guards than he did, though . . . now that really was funny, in her opinion . . . and knowing Evan, he'd probably think that it was funny, too . . .

 

Glancing at the clock on the wall, she frowned just a little. It was nearly seven, and still the taijya had yet to arrive. She'd taken to calling him that since he really seemed to despise `Houshi-sama'. Besides, she had to admit that she liked taijya better. It sounded more dangerous, didn't it?

 

Smashing her hands over her mouth as another bout of giggles welled up inside her, Samantha shook her head and wondered if the white-coats had slipped her something when she wasn't paying attention. Why else would she be in that good a mood? She really figured that she shouldn't be, all things considered. After all, she was still quite trapped here, and that, alone, ought to have been enough to silence her amusement, right?

 

The door opened, and she sat up straight, but frowned when two of the white-coats stepped into the room. They normally left long before now, didn't they? What in the world were they still doing here?

 

“You really think this will work?”

 

“Sure . . . why wouldn't it?”

 

The first guy didn't look entirely convinced.

 

“Hands behind your back,” the second guy ordered.

 

Samantha didn't move.

 

“Now,” he demanded, kicking the cage just enough to shock her.

 

Biting her lip and refusing to let them see how badly the jolt that slammed through her hurt, she didn't blink and didn't move. As far as she was concerned, they'd had their time earlier, and she wasn't nearly stupid enough not to have smelled the changes in their scents as they'd studied her, strapped spread eagle on that damn table. Their long lab coats might have hidden the obvious results from each other's views, but she knew, didn't she? And she'd be damned if she'd let them touch her, either.

 

“What the hell are the two of you still doing here?”

 

The white-coats whipped around to face a very bored looking taijya. Samantha almost cried in relief.

 

Neither looked happy to see him stride into the room and over to the desk where he deposited his knapsack and coat.

 

“Didn't you get the memo?” the second one finally asked, apparently deciding that a show of mock bravado was in order.

 

The taijya nodded. “I got it,” he agreed mildly enough.

 

“Then you know that we're going to be conducting a night study on her.”

 

“Weird, though . . . Harlan didn't know a damn thing about it, and since all testing has to be cleared through him, then I guess it means that you're not authorized.”

 

“W . . . it's just . . . o-observation,” the first doctor finally said in a rather pathetically weak tone.

 

The taijya shrugged. “Then pull up a chair, boys, and observe all you want. Be a little boring, though, if you want my opinion. It doesn't do a whole hell of a lot.”

 

Samantha might have thought that the situation were a bit more humorous if she didn't need to pee. Fidgeting just a little, she concentrated on not thinking about it—no small feat, really. She didn't dare speak in front of the white-coats, and even if she did, she wasn't entirely certain that the taijya would take her to the bathroom with the impromptu audience . . .

 

But as luck would have it, the two miscreants seemed to settle in for the duration. She bit her lip.

 

“So, Doc . . . You give any thought to what we talked about the other day?” the more talkative of the white-coats asked. His clearance card had read `Peterman', she thought . . .

 

The taijya pulled a newspaper out of his bag and shook it out. “Nope.”

 

The sleazy bastard chuckled, and Samantha had to tamp down the vindictive desire to shove a few of the man's teeth right down his throat. “You sure about that? I mean, she isn't very big, but I'm sure that there's enough of her to go around.”

 

The taijya didn't respond to that.

 

“Maybe he's gay,” the other white-coat muttered to his partner in a quiet tone that the taijya was probably not meant to hear.

 

“Maybe I am,” the taijya agreed as he let his feet drop off the desk and slowly rose, tossing the newspaper down as he pinned both white-coats with a menacing glower, “I mean, nothing sounds quite as good to me right now as fucking the two of you up completely.”

 

Peterman chuckled. “Oh, come on, now, Doc . . . Warren was just joking, right, buddy?”

 

The one who must've been named Warren nodded. “Just a joke,” he echoed, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I mean, what's the harm?”

 

The taijya looked like he was sorely pressed not to lose his temper completely. “The harm? The harm? Look, I've yet to get my full payment out of that demon. You're not doing a damn thing to compromise that till I do. You got that?”

 

“We're not going to hurt her,” Peterman insisted with a wide, fake grin meant to reassure the taijya, she supposed. “What's wrong with having a little fun?”

 

“I already told you,” the taijya growled, jerking his head toward the door. “Now get the hell out of here before I lose my temper.”

 

She couldn't help her sigh of relief when the two white-coats decided that it was in their best interests to comply. The taijya didn't back down until the two had left the room, and then he followed them to the doorway, watching, she figured, until they had gotten onto the elevator before he slumped against the frame and slowly shook his head. “Sick bastards,” he muttered under his breath.

 

Samantha opened her mouth to thank him, but faltered. Something in his expression stopped her, didn't it; something that she didn't completely comprehend . . .? Anger, sure, and even a marked disgust, but something else, too; something much subtler, something . . . something she wasn't entirely certain of . . .

 

Pushing himself away from the door, he stomped over to the cage and made quick work of pulling the water dish out to refill it.

 

“Uh,” she interrupted before he could move away.

 

“What?” he grumped, though she had the strangest feeling that his tone really didn't have a lot to do with her.

 

“I, err . . . have to pee,” she muttered.

 

He stared at her for several seconds then heaved a sigh. “Why doesn't that surprise me?” he retorted dryly.

 

She bit her lip but couldn't help the contrite little smile that surfaced, either.

 

He shook his head and heaved another sigh, setting the bowl atop the cage and rolling his hand in a gesture meant to hurry her along. “All right; all right. You know the drill.”

 

Samantha giggled then hurriedly turned around.

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

Ryomaru glowered at the map spread on the table in the hotel room. “That's a hella big area,” he muttered, tapping the page with a tapered claw.

 

Griffin nodded but remained silent.

 

“It's just another wild goose chase,” Kichiro growled, stomping away from the table and looking like he was ready to tear something to shreds. “Damn it!”

 

“Maybe,” Gunnar intoned as he eyed the map. “Maybe not.”

 

“I'll go,” Ryomaru said. “Anyone know that area?”

 

Griffin shrugged and nodded. “I do.” All eyes turned to stare at him. “It's been awhile, but . . .”

 

Ryomaru stared at Griffin for a moment then slowly nodded. “All right. We'll head out in the morning.”

 

“What the hell can some old bastard tell us about where my daughter is?” Kichiro went on angrily. “There's nothing in Minnesota that's going to help us!”

 

“You don't know that,” Evan pointed out. “If we find the guy, even if he isn't involved . . . maybe he knows something.”

 

“Look, Kich, Mother and the old man are still checking around here, and like it or not, she's our best chance at the moment. If this old bastard can tell us anything, then we gotta go,” Ryomaru pointed out.

 

Kichiro didn't look like he wanted to agree, but he finally nodded. “Then I should go, too.”

 

“The hell,” Ryomaru muttered with a shake of his head. “What if the old man gets himself arrested again? You'd better stay here . . .”

 

“I ain't going to get arrested again,” InuYasha grumbled as he stomped into the room with Kagome right behind him. “Baka pup . . .”

 

“Any luck?” Bas spoke up from his spot where he was lounging against a wall with an untouched cup of coffee in his hand.

 

Kagome shook her head and sighed. “Nothing yet, but we've decided that it's better to move around on foot. It's hard to tell much of anything from the air.”

 

“Damn it,” Bas gritted out, his grip tightening on the tiny cup that looked like a child's miniature in the man's huge hand.

 

“Take it easy before you break it, Bas,” Gavin said, nodding at said-cup.

 

Bas blinked, his grip loosening just a touch though the irritation on his features did not wane.

 

Gunnar's cell phone rang, and he nodded at the others to go on as he stepped to the side to field the call. It was his father, who had gone out for the day with Morio to check into a few places that they weren't sure had been explored as yet. “Hello?”

 

“Mamoruzen? How's everything there?”

 

Rubbing his eye, Gunnar let out a deep breath and glanced over at the gathering. “Griffin's friend, Attean contacted him about a potential lead in Minnesota. Ryomaru and Griffin are going to head out tomorrow.”

 

“Minnesota? What's up there?”

 

“Attean heard a rumor about some old man up that way who is said to possess spiritual powers. It may not have a thing to do with this, but it doesn't hurt to check it out.”

 

“Ryomaru . . .” Toga sighed. “I don't know that it's a good idea to send him in. That'd be like sending Uncle Yasha in, only a little goofier . . .”

 

Gunnar was inclined to agree, but he shook his head. “He's the best bet we have as far as tracking goes, Uncle Yasha aside.”

 

“I know, but Ryomaru tends to act first and think later—when he thinks at all, that is . . .”

 

“Kami, you're starting to sound like Grandfather,” Gunnar pointed out.

 

Toga sighed. “I would rather avoid having your uncle blowing up the whole of the North American woodlands . . .” he admitted ruefully.

 

Gunnar rubbed the back of his neck as he pondered that, then made a face. “Then maybe you ought to get back here and warn him.”

 

“Afraid of your uncle, Mamoruzen?” Toga teased.

 

Gunnar smiled just a little. “No, but I do have a healthy respect for his swords.”

 

“Duly noted . . . we'll head back right . . . Oi! What do you think you're doing?”

 

Gunnar heard rustling in the background and shook his head.

 

“I've never seen a flower like that one,” Morio pointed out, his voice muffled by the distance between him and the phone receiver. “Meara would love it.”

 

“So take a picture of it, baka! That's called breaking and entering, you know!”

 

“What the hell is he doing?” Gunnar couldn't help asking.

 

Toga heaved another sigh, this one decidedly frustrated. “Someone's got a bunch of plants in their window, and your cousin's trying to jimmy it open . . .”

 

“I wasn't going to steal it!” Morio complained. “But the light would just bounce off the glass if I tried to take a picture . . . you think they're home?”

 

“We'll be back as soon as I beat some sense into your cousin,” Toga grumbled. “Don't let them leave before I get there.”

 

“Okay,” Gunnar replied as the line went dead. The irritated look on his face dissipated, and he smiled just a little. It put things into perspective, at least a somewhat. Maybe Morio didn't take everything as seriously as everyone else, but maybe that was all right, too . . . His heart was in the right place . . .

 

When he turned around again, it was to see everyone staring at the map on the table. “Attean didn't know anything other than `northern Minnesota'?” Bas asked. He'd traded the cup for his cell phone, probably talking to Cain at the same time as he was discussing the search plans.

 

“No,” Griffin mumbled. “He said it was just a rumor.”

 

Bas hit a button and set the phone on the table. “Rumor . . . It should still be looked into,” Cain's voice came through on the speakerphone. “Has Ben made it there, yet?”

 

“I haven't seen him,” Bas remarked.

 

“How's Bellaniece?” Kagome asked as she looked away from the map.

 

Cain sighed. “She's all right. Went Christmas shopping today with the girls.”

 

“Good,” Kagome said with a wan smile. “And Gin?”

 

“Gin's fine, too.”

 

“Have you heard anything else, Zelig?” InuYasha cut in impatiently. “Anything useful?”

 

Kagome shot her mate an unimpressed look. The hanyou ignored it.

 

“Nothing,” Cain admitted. “I'll look into that rumor. I don't know what I'll be able to find out, though. If Myrna didn't come up with anything on her first search . . . I'll call if I find out anything.”

 

InuYasha grunted. Kagome nudged him with her elbow before he could say anything contentious.

 

“All right,” Bas agreed. “Tell Sydnie I'll call her in a bit.”

 

“Sure,” Cain replied. The connection ended, and Bas shut off his phone and dropped it into his pocket.

 

“So the rest of us'll just keep searching on foot, then,” Evan muttered, looking entirely irritated about it.

 

“That's all we can do,” Bas said.

 

“We're not getting anywhere like this,” Evan said, his voice thick with the frustration that everyone else was feeling, too. “Remind me not to come up missing if this is the best you can do, Bubby.”

 

Bas shot his brother a warning look that Evan summarily ignored.

 

“Goddamnit! This feels so fucking pointless!” Evan snarled, pacing around the room like a caged animal. “Where the hell is she?”

 

“Evan,” Bas began in a warning tone.

 

Evan rounded on him, jamming a finger against Bas' chest. “Shut the fuck up, Bassie! You don't know any more than the rest of us do, now do you? So don't pretend that you do, all right? Just spare me . . . Sam's out there somewhere, and we're all sitting here talking about some fucked up mountain man who may or may not have spiritual abilities? No! Fuck no! Stay here if you want, but I'm going back out there! I'm going to find her, and I'm going to bring her back, damn it!”

 

Bas sighed as Evan stormed out of the room. Kichiro glanced around, his gaze lingering on every face that he knew, and finally, he, too, turned and left. Clenching his jaw, Bas looked like he wanted to say something. In the end, he let out a deep breath and strode out onto the balcony.

 

Kagome stood still for a moment, the turmoil in her eyes speaking volumes about the worry in her heart and soul as she patted her mate's back and hurried after Bas.

 

The night was cold—colder than she could credit—a deep-rooted cold that seemed somehow entirely appropriate in its unrelenting quality. Bas stood at the railing, staring out over the city, his back strong and proud as his hair whipped into his unblinking eyes. “He's . . . he's right, you know,” the young man said quietly. He hadn't turned to acknowledge his grandmother's presence. He didn't have to. “That's the hell of it, see? He's right . . .”

 

“Do you think so?” she asked gently, pulling her sweater a little closer as she wrapped her arms around her chest and wandered over to his side.

 

“Grandma . . . Evan didn't say anything that the rest of us haven't felt. How hopeless is this?” He sighed and shook his head. “I'm not giving up; I just . . .”

 

“Sebastian, I'm going to tell you something, and it's going to sound completely un-grandma-ish.”

 

He finally turned to look at her then pulled off his coat to drape it around her shoulders. “Un-grandma-ish?”

 

She nodded then sighed, letting the warmth of the garment encompass her for a moment before she spoke again. “Do you know how many knees I've bandaged or elbows I've kissed? How many bedtime stories I've read or how many times I've just stood and watched while my grandchildren have played? How many times I've helped one of you get back on your bicycles when you fell off or stood at the doorway, wondering if you intended to stay in the forest all night because you've lost track of the time . . .? And I always knew that you'd come back home because you always—always—did . . . Oh, your grandfather would grump and swear that he was going to thump you—all of you . . . The summer you boys took off—hiking through Japan, Mikio's note had said . . . Afraid it was going to be your last summer spent together, and I worried, of course. I'm your grandmother. That's my right . . .

 

“Your grandfather told me that I was worried about nothing; that you boys could take care of yourselves, and it wasn't that I thought you couldn't . . . I suppose I just didn't want you to have to do it . . .” She smiled, uttered a sad little laugh. “And you came home, all safe, all happy . . . You never said so, but I know that you boys had had the time of your lives, so I . . . I never had the heart to scold you—not when you were right. It was the last summer you all spent together, wasn't it?”

 

Bas nodded, the expression on his face stating plainly that he did remember that summer that seemed so very long ago. Kagome had fretted and worried, staring at her cell phone for hours on end, almost dialing it so many times until InuYasha had stomped into the kitchen and told her to leave the boys be . . . And when they'd finally wandered into the house weeks later . . .

 

How happy had they looked? How much closer had the four boys bonded? The next generation had somehow become this united front, and while they had retained their individuality, together, she'd realized, they'd become something entirely different. They'd deepened that friendship into something that would withstand anything that anyone else could throw at them. She'd been proud, hadn't she? Proud of the boys who had snuck out in the night, only to return home as full-grown men. Every child had a moment like that, when they were able to shed the mantle of the one only to step into their own . . . Looking back, Kagome could remember those insular moments in all those children's lives . . . all except Samantha—the silvery girl with the brilliant eyes and the laughter that had the ability to make everyone smile . . . and in Kagome's mind . . .

 

Her smile faded, and she shook her head. In her mind, Samantha was still that little girl, wasn't she? And maybe . . .

 

“Today, as your grandfather and I were walking through the city, we passed this window of a vacant store—one of those huge, sheet glass windows . . . easily fifty feet long . . . maybe twenty feet high . . . and all over that window, people had posted these flyers . . . men, women, children . . . They were all missing. Every last one of them had a face and a name and a home where someone was waiting for them . . . and the flyers were all different: red ones, white ones, yellow ones . . .” Blinking quickly, she shook her head and cleared her throat as emotion threatened to overwhelm her. “I looked at those flyers, and I thought to myself . . . if we posted a picture of Samantha there, would anyone see her? Would . . . would anyone care . . .?”

 

Shaking her head, she suddenly covered her face with her hands, her tears silent but poignant, drawing a grimace from her grandson as he quickly reached out to pull her into a comforting hug. She leaned against him for a moment, wondering in what crazy, messed-up world did the child become the adult, even if it were only for a second?

 

Drawing a shaky breath, she sniffled and swiped at her eyes. “Those papers were two or three layers thick . . . different faces, different stories . . . but how many of them ended with that child—that person—coming home? How . . . how many . . .?” She bit her lip, rubbed her arms, felt the warmth of Bas' lips against her forehead. “And I . . . I couldn't help but wonder if our Samantha . . . Is she just another number now . . .? Another face that some strangers might see and think, `Oh, she's a pretty girl,'—if they even think about her, at all . . .”

 

“Grandma . . .”

 

“That's why,” she said, her voice taking on a determined tone.

 

Bas shook his head. He didn't understand, did he . . .?

 

“That's why,” she stated again, an expression of sheer determination brightening her gaze as she slowly, steadily stepped back, stared her grandson in the eye. Bas blinked at the expression on her face, the absolute conviction in her resolve. “That's why we have to bring her home,” she said. “Because my Samantha . . . she's more than a face on a window plastered with the other faces of the lost souls. She's more than a number—a statistic. She's more than just a pretty girl, and she deserves more than just a fleeting glance of an uncaring stranger. She's ours, and she is coming home.”

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

“Shut up.”

 

That giggle again. “But—”

 

Kurt snorted and shook his newspaper to cut it—her?—off. “You already peed—twice. You ate. You had a drink. You have your blanket. You have everything you need, so shut up and go to sleep, demon.”

 

“I know, but I—”

 

“Shut. Up.”

 

“But . . . I smell chocolate.”

 

That gave Kurt pause, only because he actually did have a candy bar in his bag. The odds that he was sharing it with the demon, however, were slim and none. “Don't know what you're talking about,” he replied instead.

 

It uttered a terse grunt. “Hmph! But I love chocolate!”

 

Rolling his eyes as he tried to remember exactly why he'd wanted it to talk to him, in the first place, Kurt pulled the newspaper a little higher over his face and decided it was best to ignore the frustrating creature.

 

“Oh, come on,” it implored. “Didn't you ever learn how to share?”

 

Folding down the corner of the paper, he peered over it at her and slowly shook his head. “If you don't shut up,” he began in a warning tone, “I'll gag you, and if you really don't believe that I'd do it, then just keep talking.”

 

That, at least, seemed to stop it. Snapping its mouth closed on whatever it was going to say, it `hrmph-ed' again, but it did remain silent.

 

`Talk about minor miracles,' he thought, returning his attention to the newspaper once more.

 

He wasn't entirely certain, exactly what had gotten into the creature tonight. Laughing, giggling, almost teasing, and Kurt really didn't know what to make of any of it. It was unsettling. It was unnerving. It was completely exasperating.

 

`Maybe it's just . . . relieved . . . after all, it can hear, right? Surely it had to realize what those two were trying to do to it—to . . . her . . .'

 

Frowning at his own line of thinking, he had to admit that he really wasn't comfortable, referring to the demon in such a way. Identifying it as a female . . . Okay, he could accept that, he supposed. Gritting his teeth as he remembered that night, he winced. Yeah, he'd seen for himself that . . . she . . . was definitely female.

 

He sighed. Yes, he had been the one to tell them not to trust everything they saw on the outside, wasn't he? So why had it horrified him so badly, to see that they'd decided that they wanted affirmation that she was a female, after all? They cut the demon open just to see if it—she possessed reproductive organs . . .? Even if it hadn't affected the creature long-term, just what did that say about the doctors? Kurt wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to answer that, either . . .

 

Yet he also knew damn well what it—she really was. He'd seen the carnage that those demons seemed to crave. He saw it in the depths of his nightmares, remembered it at odd times when he sometimes wished he didn't. It was an inescapable truth to him, wasn't it? Dangerous . . . and it only took a second for them to take away everything that Kurt had ever had . . .

 

Female but not woman; a being that he just didn't want to understand . . . Everything he needed to know, he'd learned thirty-one years ago.

 

And that was something that he'd never, ever forget.

 

 

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A/N:

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Final Thought fromSamantha:

…White-coats …

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