InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 8: Vendetta ❯ Kurt’s Cross-Country Odyssey ( Chapter 60 )

~~Chapter 60~~

~Kurt's Cross-Country Odyssey~

 

-=0=-

 

 

“You're not going to find candy there, you know.”

 

With a squeak and a mad scramble of arms and legs, the little girl tumbled off the bed, scampering under the one he'd put her in the night before in such a way that it reminded Kurt of a spider scooting up a wall . . .

 

He sighed. Waking up with a child frisking him for candy was definitely one of the stranger ways to start the day . . .

 

“I left it all in the car,” he told her, knowing damn well that she really was listening. Since he'd opened his eyes yesterday, only to find her covered from head to foot in chocolate, he figured that the car was the safest place, all things considered . . . That was only bad since he'd had to fight for nearly an hour and a half to get her into the bathtub right before bed, too . . .

 

Shaking his head as he looked away from the large and unblinking owlish gaze peering out from under the bed at him, he sighed once more. He didn't know how it happened. He hadn't meant to bring her along. The trouble was, he had no idea what to do with her otherwise. She was too little to leave by herself, of course, and given where he'd found her, he couldn't just dump her off at the welfare department, either, and even if that a remote possibility, she'd freaked out when he'd walked outside the facility with her, raking at him—it was a damn good thing she didn't have the razor sharp claws that the little demon possessed—and trying to climb further up his body—she was already held against his shoulder—to the point that she'd ended up, wrapped around his head until he'd managed to talk her down, promising her candy if she'd just let him carry her, instead . . .

 

Then was her first car ride, and that was just not something that he wanted to remember, at all. He'd planned on at least getting over the border into another state, but with the absolute volume in which she could screech convincing him otherwise, he'd found a hotel pretty quickly. The concierge gave him the weirdest look—not surprising, he figured, given her bedraggled appearance in the filthy smock, and given the idea that she was still wailing and trying to scramble up his shoulder onto his head again . . .

 

So the first order of business was coaxing her into the bath—a huge mistake, if ever there was one. Oh, she was fine as long as she sat outside the tub and peered over the side, but once he made to stick her in it, she screamed bloody murder, wrapping all of her spindly limbs around his leg and holding on for dear life. So he'd had the bright idea to stick his leg into that tub, and that was a mistake, too. Shimmying up his body, and once more wrapping herself around his head, it had taken nearly all evening just to get her pried away and cleaned up. Of course, it didn't help that the poor girl was chafed all over; reddened and ruddy from half-assed care. Grimacing as he tried to wash her thoroughly but gently as she clung to his arm and sobbed, he wasn't entirely sure what to do with her.

 

In the end, he was afraid to leave her in the room by herself, but he also didn't feel quite up to tormenting her by forcing her into a store, either. A quick call down to the front desk and the mention of a nice payment for anyone willing to run to said-store for him solved the dilemma. Twenty minutes later, one of the bellhops was knocking on the door with a bag from a nearby drugstore that contained cream for the diaper rash that covered most of the child's bottom. Unfortunately, it was too late by the time he got around to noticing that he didn't have any kind of undergarment for her to wear, he'd heaved a sigh and duct taped a hotel towel around her since the stores had closed by the time he'd realized his folly.

 

And then, of course, was the Hair Debacle of 2071, or so he'd deemed it. When he'd thought that she hadn't had her hair combed in a while, he'd been wrong. If she'd ever had it combed, he'd eat his boots. Upon the first tug of his comb, she'd howled once more, this time loudly enough to bring the staff upstairs to ask if he needed `assistance'. In the end, he'd given up, taking a pair of scissors he had in his bag and cutting off all her hair. It was, of course, back by morning, and smooth and glossy, thank goodness.

 

But her hair would have been the least of his worries, as far as that went. So exhausted the night before from fighting her into the tub, he'd neglected to check one very important thing—a thing that he'd discovered to his absolute horror the next morning.

 

She wasn't potty trained, not in the least. The bed he'd put her in was entirely soiled. Apparently her candy diet was a really, really bad idea, and he'd had to repeat the whole bath trauma with her.

 

Then she didn't have any clothes since he'd tossed the smock into the trash can, so he'd pulled one of his tee-shirts over her head. It hung like a sack on her tiny frame, but at least it was clean . . . So after paying the hotel a lot extra for having ruined a perfectly good set of sheets—and the mattress too, more than like—he'd finally put her in the car he'd rented and drove to the nearest department store where he'd learned that they frowned upon opening bags of diapers to test the size against the girl's bare bottom. The entire time he was trying to size her up, she kept her face buried against his shoulder, crying softly with her hands smashed over her ears—ears that looked entirely human though perhaps a little rounder. The saleswoman who brusquely informed him that opening all the bags was simply unnecessary had given him the sternest look he'd gotten since primary school. He could see the wheels turning in her head. She'd thought that he was one of those no-account fathers who didn't know what the hell he was doing. Then he'd grabbed about ten boxes of baby wipes, a family sized bag of Hersey's kisses, nabbed a few dresses and a pair of shoes that she'd yanked off her feet and chucked out the window twenty minutes later on the Interstate. He'd dressed her and diapered her in the car—another adventure that he didn't particularly care to think about—and they were off . . .

 

Now if he could just convince her that she didn't need to crawl onto his head whenever she got freaked out, he'd be ahead of the game . . . maybe . . .

 

Sitting up with a sigh and wondering how well she'd cooperate if he tried to get her to go to a real restaurant, he shot her another glance. She hadn't moved out from under the bed, but she was watching him intently. “Aren't you hungry?” he asked, holding out a hand to her. She shrank back a little further, and he scratched his head. No doubt about it, he had his work cut out for him . . .

 

“If you don't come out of there, I can't give you candy,” he pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

 

She seemed to scoot forward just a bit.

 

“You want some candy?” he asked.

 

She scooted forward a little more.

 

“Come on,” he coaxed. “If we get moving, you can have the candy when we get into the car.”

 

She might not have understood all of what he'd said, but she did understand `candy' and `car'. With a little whine—she didn't like the car at all—she shook her head but edged closer to the side.

 

Smothering a yawn with the back of his hand, he stared at the child thoughtfully. “C'mere, stinky-butt,” he muttered, leaning over and stretching out his fingers to reach the bag of diapers he'd dropped there last night.

 

She giggled. He shook his head. Pulling out a diaper and the box of wipes, he got up and grabbed a little blue dress out of the plastic department store bag. She crawled out a little farther, eyeing the dress with avid interest and watched as he pulled the sticker price tag off the garment.

 

Scampering out from under the bed, she slowly edged toward him.

 

“What?” he deadpanned, giving her the eye. “You like this?”

 

She nodded slowly.

 

“Well, let's check your diaper first. Then you can put it on,” he said.

 

She frowned at him since she'd done nothing but cry the day before when he'd changed her diaper. Not surprising since her parts were completely chafed and raw. It had been enough to tick him off all over again, hadn't it? Those assholes hadn't bothered to take care of even the most essential of her needs. There was something fundamentally wrong with that. Even on the basest of levels, that they hadn't taken care of their overall investment had been stupid, and he knew enough from her behavior to understand that they hadn't done a damn thing to try to teach her anything. If he believed the story with which Cabot had regaled him, then either her mother hadn't been able to speak or . . . or she had chosen not to. He didn't know which one of those reasons were the truth, but either way . . .

 

Crawling onto the bed, she flopped down, spread-eagle, exactly the way he'd told her to when he'd tried to put that first diaper on her. She wasn't stupid at all, was she? In fact, Kurt reasoned as he pulled the tapes open and made a face, pulling the diaper back, he rather though that she was fairly bright.

 

“And smelly,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes closed as he tried not to breathe too deeply. “Ugh . . . you're kind of gross; you know that?”

 

She just blinked at him as Kurt grabbed about ten wipes to clean her off. “Why couldn't you be a boy?” he muttered, stuffing the used wipes into an empty bag and reaching for more. “At least I'd know how to clean up a boy . . .”

 

Stuffing her fingers into her mouth, she laughed suddenly. Kurt shook his head. “God, you reek,” he informed her as he tossed and reached for even more wipes. Satisfied that he'd gotten it all off of her, he used another handful of wipes to shove the used diaper into the bag and tied it closed. “How about we make a deal?” he ventured as he grabbed a few tissues and the tube of diaper rash ointment to smear it around. He wasn't sure why it surprised him that she wasn't nearly as red and raw as she had been yesterday. She was like Samantha, right? Surely she had to heal fast, too. He just couldn't quite credit how fast. Still, he went ahead and slathered the ointment on her for good measure . . . “You don't do that for the rest of the day, and I'll give you more candy,” he promised.

 

She looked thoughtful for a moment then smiled a little bashfully. “T . . . tanny?” she said in a very tiny, very high pitched and very cute tone of voice.

 

Kurt blinked and stared at her. “Did you . . .? Did you just say `candy'?”

 

She held up both her hands as though she were asking for something. “Tanny?” she repeated. “Tanny?”

 

“Ah . . . you . . . you did,” he breathed then barked out a terse laugh. “All right,” he agreed. “Just let me check on those bas—those men,” he amended since he wasn't entirely certain exactly what words she'd pick up just from hearing them.

 

She whined a little as he tossed the soiled diaper bag and tissues into the can near the bureau. It only took a minute for him to wash his hands, and when he stepped out of the bathroom a moment later, it was to find her crouched atop the dresser, rifling through the knapsack. “No,” he said, hefting her off the furniture and setting her on the floor then tugging the rumpled pink cotton dress over her head. “Go put your dress on.”

 

He hurriedly checked all the doctors' whereabouts. Not surprising, really . . . all of them seemed to be more than happy to stay the hell away from their perspective facilities. Frowning at the strange sense of emptiness that assailed him, he sighed. He'd figured that there'd at least be some small bit of satisfaction after he'd closed them all down. There wasn't; not really, just a quiet resignation, and the deep rooted knowledge that the little demon was safe.

 

Doing a double take when he glanced at the girl, he shook his head but smiled wanly. She'd managed to pull the dress on part way, but she was struggling to get her head through the neck hole and as a result, she was turning circles. Closing the computer, he heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes, then stood up and wandered over to tug her dress down. “Better?”

 

She smiled up at him and held up her hands. “Tanny?” she said.

 

Kurt chuckled and shook his head. “All right; all right,” he agreed as he gathered their things together. “Come on . . .”

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

“Kurt . . .”

 

Groaning softly, he blinked at the blood red sky that floated overhead. “N-n-n . . .”

 

“Kurt . . .”

 

“Sleepy,” he muttered, rolling onto his side and letting his eyes drift closed once more.

 

“Kurt . . .”

 

The gentlest brush of fingertips on his cheek . . . They tickled . . .

 

“Kurt . . .”

 

“Hmm?”

 

The soft giggles . . . he knew that sound . . . “Isn't it time, Kurt?”

 

“T-time . . .?”

 

“You said you'd go there. You promised.”

 

Opening his eyes a crack, he frowned as he slowly focused on the little girl's face. “C-Carrie . . .”

 

She scampered to her feet and spun around in circles, giggling softly—always laughing . . . “Can we go now?” she asked suddenly. “You want to see her. I do, too!”

 

“I . . .”

 

She shook her head, her golden curls bouncing with her movements; eyes shining, bright . . . “Why do you make me wait?” she pouted.

 

“Carrie . . .?”

 

Cheeks touched with a hint of pink, she finally smiled at him. “C'mon, Kurt! You promised; you promised; you promised . . .”

 

Gripping his forehead tightly, he frowned. She . . . she looked . . . normal—completely normal . . . The little sister he remembered . . . and not the ghastly visage he'd come to dread . . . “Carrie? How . . .?”

 

“Aren't you going to keep your promise? Your promise is a vow that you make before God . . .”

 

Scowling at those words—his father had said them to him, hadn't he?—Kurt shook his head slowly. “I'm trying, Carrie . . . I'm trying . . .”

 

“No, you're not,” she said, planting one hand on her hip and waggling a finger in front of his face. “You promised, but you aren't going to do it, are you? You promised, but you're not . . .”

 

“I don't know where to find them,” he confessed quietly, feeling the absolute pain of loss all over again. “I've been looking . . .”

 

“No, no, no,” she sang. “You know where to find her. She's in Maine.”

 

“. . . Maine . . .?”

 

Carrie shrieked in laughter suddenly, throwing herself into his lap. “Samantha, Kurt . . . you promised we'd go see her.”

 

Kurt's gaze widened as he stared at Caroline's curls. “S . . . Samantha . . .”

 

“Because you like her, right? Because she made you not so sad anymore.”

 

“But she's a . . .”

 

Caroline wiggled around, leaned up to kiss his cheek. “She's not a monster, Kurt. She sings to me.”

 

“You . . . you like . . . her?”

 

“Can we go see her now? Can we? Can we? Please?”

 

Kurt's eyes popped open in the semi-darkness of the hotel room with the dream still thick in his mind and the sound of her name still touching his lips . . . “Samantha,” he murmured into the quiet. `Carrie . . . wants to . . . see you . . .'

 

The tiny body beside him wiggled a little closer, and he pushed himself up on his elbow. He'd put the girl in the other bed; he knew he did. It figured she wouldn't stay there . . . Come to think of it, he'd yet to meet a woman who actually did what men told them to do . . .

 

Heaving a sigh as a little smile touched his lips, Kurt shook his head and pulled the blanket up over her tiny body, tucking it securely under her chin.

 

“Can we go see her now? Can we? Can we? Please?”

 

`Go see her . . .'

 

He shouldn't. He should just stay away from her, shouldn't he? After all, how could his presence do anything but remind her of the things that had happened to her? There were so many reasons why he ought to stay away from her, for her own peace of mind. After everything was said and done, the truth of it was that the things he done for whatever reason, did it matter? She deserved a lifetime of smiles and someone who knew how to laugh . . .

 

Still, he'd thought of it before as more of a fleeting thought than a viable option, but . . . But her family . . . they had money, didn't they? Even if he didn't know this for sure, it stood to reason, didn't it? They'd lived in one of the most exclusive hotels in the United States for three months, hadn't they? They'd spent months searching for her, and to do that, they had to have the funds to back them up, so . . .

 

So perhaps they'd have more manpower available to keep tabs on the researchers. Keeping track of the three in Chicago and Thurman since he wasn't likely to leave that bastard to anyone else would take consume a lot of his time as it was. If he turned the information and tracking codes over to them, they could very likely have a much simpler time with it . . .

 

Besides that, he had to figure out what to do with her, too, didn't he? The very deliberate sound of giggling broke into his thoughts, and he wasn't surprised to find her staring at him with her fingers shoved into her mouth. She'd been doing that a lot today . . .

 

He sighed. “Why is it that you don't sleep at night like normal people?” he demanded.

 

She giggled more. “Tanny,” she said around her slobbery fingers.

 

Closing his eyes and shaking his head, Kurt couldn't help the little smile that surfaced, either. “You're kind of a pest, aren't you?”

 

Her answer was another round of laughter.

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

“Come on, now, sit down . . .”

 

Casting a surreptitious glance around and painfully aware that many of the people in the roadside diner were now staring at him, Kurt grabbed the child around the waist and set her down. “It's not nice to stare, you know,” he pointed out.

 

She giggled at him.

 

He sighed, digging the last Hershey's Kiss out of his pocket and scooting it toward her on the table.

 

It took her all of two seconds to devour it.

 

“Tanny!” she hollered.

 

Kurt heaved a sigh. Four days into their cross-country trip, and the child was slowly starting to come out of her shell—well, sort of. She still tended to get nervous and shy when faced with crowds or wide open spaces, but as long as he had a pocketful of candy, he could pretty well coax her into doing things that otherwise frightened her.

 

Of course, that did have its drawbacks, too . . .

 

She tended to get a little hyper if he gave her too much candy, but she ended up whining if he didn't give her as much as she wanted, too. He'd ended up having to buy a car seat for her yesterday, as well. The police officer that had pulled him over as they'd trekked through northern Texas had seemed fairly insistent upon it. He'd even given them a ride to the store to buy it and a ride back to the car that he'd forbidden to let Kurt drive until it had a properly installed car seat and paid the five hundred dollar fine . . .

 

That had lasted all of ten minutes before she'd started wailing bloody murder because she didn't want to be confined, so Kurt had stopped long enough to buy more candy that he'd fed to her until they reached the state line—and she'd figured out how to unfasten the car seat . . .

 

“What can I get you, sugar?” the waitress asked as she stopped beside the table.

 

Kurt shot the child a quick glance. She was starting to squirm again, which meant she wanted to look over the back of the seat. “Uh . . . a cheeseburger and fries,” he replied then leaned toward the girl. “You want to try a cheeseburger?”

 

“Tanny!” she hollered.

 

Kurt nodded since he'd figured he'd get that response. “Two, please,” he said.

 

“And to drink?”

 

He looked at her again just in time to catch the back of her collar to keep her from disappearing under the table. “A milk and a soda.”

 

The waitress winked and smiled. “Okay. I'll be right back with your food, sweetie. Don't give your daddy too hard a time, eh?”

 

“Oh, uh, she isn't . . .” Trailing off with a sigh as the waitress hurried away, Kurt shook his head. He seemed to get that wherever he took her, too, the assumption that she was his daughter. It didn't bother him nearly as much as it unsettled him.

 

Pulling her back up and smoothing down her dress, Kurt slowly shook his head. “Oh, you didn't,” he muttered.

 

She smiled happily at him. “Tanny!”

 

Blowing out a deep breath, he stood up and reached for her. “Come on, stinky-butt. I thought we had a deal . . .”

 

Before he could grab her, though, she ducked under the table, dashing across the floor toward the cash register near the entrance. The register sat on top of a low glass counter with a display of candy on the shelves beneath. Thanking God or whatever entity was up there for the fact that she didn't actually possess claws, he strode over to pick her up as she scratched futilely at the glass.

 

“Tell you what,” he said as he hefted her off her feet and headed out the door and toward the car to change her stinky butt, “you cooperate for the rest of the meal, and I'll buy you some candy before we leave. Deal?”

 

She giggled, happily kicking her feet. He grimaced when she managed to jam her heel very close to his parts. Shifting her to the side with an arm over her stomach, he sighed. Somehow, he didn't think that she was going to go along with that deal, either . . .

 

No doubt about it, life was so much simpler before he'd figured out that not all demons were . . . demons . . .

 

 

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Final Thought from Kurt:

Kids … are worse … than demons …

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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~