InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 8: Vendetta ❯ Healing ( Chapter 73 )

~~Chapter 73~~

~Healing~

 

-=0=-

 

 

Samantha sat back and tried not to stare at her parents, who hadn't spoken more than a couple perfunctory things to each other during the course of breakfast. Bellaniece looked completely tranquil, as always, and her father looked a little bored but nothing really out of the ordinary, and for a moment, she wondered if she might be blowing things out of proportion. But she could feel an underlying strain that she didn't quite understand, and that was more than enough to have her glancing from one to the other and back again.

 

Kagome shot InuYasha a questioning glance. The hanyou flicked his ears and narrowed his gaze on the two but didn't comment as Bellaniece got up to refill her glass of orange juice, and Samantha didn't miss the fact that her mother didn't bother to ask Kichiro if he wanted one, too. No, she stepped over to the highboy and poured the beverage, returning to the table without bothering to see whether or not Kichiro wanted the same.

 

Kichiro didn't comment, though. If the two of them were trying to pretend as though nothing was wrong, they were failing quite miserably. Both Cain and Gin were sitting back in their chairs, openly gawking at the couple. Ryomaru and Nezumi kept exchanging strange sorts of looks, and when Bas walked in a minute later with a black slimfile in his hands to ask his father a question, he stopped abruptly just inside the door, his eyes flaring wide as he stared around the table. It took him all of two seconds to figure out the source of the heaviness in the room, and with a concerted effort, he managed to shake his head and ignore the tension as he grabbed a coffee cup off the highboy and filled it.

 

“Thought I told you to stay home with your mate today,” Cain remarked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

 

Bas shot his father a glance as he grabbed the cup and strode over to the table. “Morning to you, too, Dad, and Sydnie wanted me to come over to talk to you about one of the cases.”

 

“And where is she?”

 

Bas snorted, downing half of his coffee in a single gulp. “Right now? Watching Good Morning, Maine with Precious.”

 

“The cow?” Kagome questioned with a raised eyebrow.

 

Bas sighed but didn't reply as he grabbed a couple cranberry biscotti.

 

“That's so sweet of you to have bought her a cow,” Bellaniece said with a radiant smile.

 

“Yeah, well, sometimes I wish I didn't,” he remarked with a shake of his head. “That damn thing stinks, and she lets it into the house. She doesn't see the difference between Badd and Precious . . . I'll tell you what the big difference is: Badd doesn't stink nearly as badly as Precious does—and Badd's housebroken, too.”

 

InuYasha snorted but didn't comment on that, though Samantha could tell from the look on his face that he simply didn't understand why anyone would allow a cow into the house, in the first place.

 

“And you complain about the cat when she sheds her fur,” Nezumi mumbled.

 

Ryomaru grinned. “Why, Nez? You want a cow, too?”

 

“Let's just hope that Precious outgrows the doorways sooner rather than later,” Bas muttered.

 

“What about Sydnie's fish tank?” Gin asked since Bas had told Sydnie that the cow was too clumsy to be around the aquarium after Precious had knocked over and broke the first one.

 

Bas sighed. “Got too expensive,” he muttered.

 

Samantha pressed her lips together to keep from smiling since she knew well enough that the aquarium wasn't nearly as expensive as the fish that Sydnie insisted upon playing with—and killing. For as bright a woman as Sydnie really was, she just didn't grasp that a fish that flopped around in the palm of her hand wasn't playing; it was dying, and Samantha had a feeling that it wasn't the expense of replacing the fish that bothered Bas, it was the unsettling idea that Sydnie . . . well, she just kept killing the poor things . . .

 

Samantha stood up and grabbed her plate. Ordinarily, her parents' odd and strained behavior would have upset her, and while she had to admit that it did bother her, she had a hunch that they were at odds over her and Kurt, and if that really was the case . . . maybe she was better off not knowing . . .

 

Besides, Samantha was still more than a little tired, given that she hadn't slept well last night. Kurt had tossed and turned most of the time, and she'd been too preoccupied, worrying about the child to get any rest, herself.

 

Maybe she could clear her head if she went for a run. Rinsing off her dishes, she put them in the dishwasher and kicked the door closed. That sounded like an excellent plan, she figured. After all, she wouldn't be able to spend any time with Kurt since those bordering-on-barbaric men of the family insisted upon thrashing Kurt on a daily basis . . .

 

It didn't take long for her to run up to her room and change clothes, opting for a pair of pink stretch shorts and a white tank top. Since it was a bit on the brisk side, though, she did stop long enough to nab a gray sweat jacket before grabbing her running shoes and hurrying out of the room again.

 

But the sun was shining brightly when she stepped outside, and she closed her eyes, drew a deep cleansing breath . . . and froze.

 

The bushes beside the porch trembled, but it was the scent that drew Samantha forward. Dropping her shoes, she ran down the steps as her heart lurched into her throat.

 

“Sweetie?” she called quietly, grimacing at the anxiety rife in the child's youki. Hunkering down on the balls of her feet, Samantha stared into the murky shadows. “Aww, honey . . .”

 

A small whimper met Samantha's ears moments before the girl sprang out of the foliage and into her arms. Dressed in a dirty and torn nightgown—white with pink teddy bears printed all over the knit fabric—she shook and sobbed and clung to Samantha.

 

“Oh, sweetie,” she crooned, wrapping her arms around her and slowly getting to her feet. “Did you run away?”

 

The girl continued to sob.

 

A moment later, the front door swung open, and Cain strode outside with his cell phone plastered against his ear. He stopped short and slowly shook his head, his eyes registering his obvious relief. “Never mind,” he said into the device. “It's all right. She's here.”

 

Snapping the phone closed against his chest, Cain sighed. “The Conors just called. Said she was gone when they got up a bit ago.”

 

Samantha patted the child's back and shot her grandfather a worried glance. “How did she get out?”

 

He let out a deep breath. “Near as they could tell, she must have crawled through the cat door and hopped over the fence. Don't worry, Sam. We'll try another overnight visit next weekend.”

 

“But she doesn't want to go,” Sam pointed out.

 

Cain frowned. “Sam . . . she needs a family of her own.”

 

She bit her lip and nodded. “I . . . I know . . .”

 

He stared at her for a long moment then slowly nodded. “Take her inside,” he finally said. “She's probably hungry . . . and tired.”

 

“D-daddy,” the child whined.

 

Cain sighed again then shook his head, as though whatever he'd thought just couldn't be helped. “And why don't you take her up to see him?” he suggested with a half-hearted smile. “I guess . . . I guess he can skip the training for one day . . .”

 

Samantha nodded, cast Cain a grateful smile, then headed toward the porch with the still whimpering child nestled against her chest. She sniffled, stuffing her fingers into her mouth as Cain pulled the teddy bear from the bushes. “Here,” he said, holding it out to her.

 

The child took one look at Cain and howled, her arms tightening around Samantha's neck almost painfully tightly. She grimaced and took the stuffed animal from him. “Sorry, Grandpa,” she said with an apologetic smile.

 

He sighed and waved his hand dismissively as Samantha hurried into the mansion.

 

She headed straight for the stairs, gently trying to soothe the child's upset. She probably associated Cain with the perceived trauma, and while Samantha knew that her grandfather would never, ever hurt a child, she could understand the girl's skewed opinion of it.

 

Kurt threw open the door before Samantha reached it, his expression a mix of anger and concern as he reached for the girl without a word.

 

“She ran away and came back here,” Samantha explained as she pushed the door closed.

 

Kurt nodded as he rubbed the child's back and paced the floor. “You're okay,” he told her in a gentle tone.

 

“Daddy!” she wailed, burying her face against his chest. “Daddy . . .”

 

He heaved a sight and shot Samantha a fulminating glower. Samantha bit her lip and shifted from one foot to the other. “She's all right,” she told him. “She was just scared; that's all.”

 

“Here,” he said, digging a butterscotch candy out of his pocket.

 

The child sniffled and reached for it.

 

Kurt sighed and frowned at Samantha. “She . . . she won't go willingly; not to them.”

 

Samantha shook her head. “No, I doubt it.”

 

That didn't appease him. “What does your grandfather think that he's going to do? Forcing her to go with them when she doesn't want to?” He snorted, moving toward the bed to set her down before he reached for the little pink diaper bag off the floor where he kept it. “What's the point? She'll just run away again . . . She doesn't like them. She doesn't want to be an `Iris', and she doesn't want to be a Conor, either.”

 

Samantha sighed. That was true enough. She agreed completely. That little girl . . .

 

But she watched quietly as Kurt made quick work of changing the child's diaper.

 

He sighed and sat back, frowning as he pulled the girl off the bed and into his lap, cuddling her against his chest. “What am I going to do with you?” he mused quietly, the stirrings of a tender smile gracing his features.

 

Samantha sank down beside the two of them. “Grandpa . . . he said that they could try having her overnight next weekend . . .”

 

He shot her a quick glance, all traces of the smile that had been starting to form dissipating completely as he slowly shook his head. “Why? So she can run away again? Come home all dirty and crying and upset? What's the point?”

 

“M . . . maybe . . .”

 

He sighed. “Whatever.”

 

Staring at the child, she couldn't help the sad little scowl that surfaced. She opened her mouth; wanted to say that she'd keep her, but she couldn't do it. Couldn't ask more of him than he'd already given her; the concessions he'd already made to accommodate her . . .

 

It struck her then, exactly how exhausted he looked. She knew he hadn't gotten much sleep. Too busy, fretting over the child, he hadn't been able to sleep at all, had he?

 

“Grandpa says you don't have to train today,” she murmured quietly.

 

Kurt didn't respond right away. The girl reached out to Samantha, grasping her sleeve and tugging to bring her closer. Only after Samantha had moved in beside Kurt, leaning against the bed next to him with the child safely cradled between them, did she finally let her eyes drift closed.

 

Kurt watched her in silence for several moments. “The first time I saw her,” he said softly, “I thought . . . I thought that if I could save her . . .” He trailed off, his voice rough, catching, and he tried to smile, but couldn't quite manage it. “I thought that maybe you . . . you'd forgive me . . . someday . . .”

 

“Taijya . . .” she whispered.

 

He shook his head. “For you . . . for her . . . to be happy . . .”

 

“And you?”

 

He shot her a little smile—an almost bashful sort of smile—but this one was genuine, illuminating his gaze with a sparkle, a brightness that made her stop and stare. “You make me . . . you are my happiness, little demon . . . you know that, right?”

 

She snuggled against his shoulder, her nostrils tingling as tears prickled her eyelids. “You never needed my forgiveness. There was never anything to forgive.”

 

He snorted but slipped his arm around her waist, drawing her a little closer against his side, content, it seemed, just to be near her.

 

They sat in comfortable silence for a while as waves of drowsiness surged over her. Stifling a yawn with the back of her hand, she shifted to ask Kurt if they should lie down on the bed, only to stop and smile. He was already asleep, too, and in the end, she didn't have the heart to wake either of them, and as she closed her eyes, she figured that it'd be just fine if she woke up with a kink in her back from sleeping in such an odd place. Some things were just worth it, after all . . .

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

Kagome paced around the base of the tree with a somewhat bemused smile on her face as she waited patiently for InuYasha to notice her.

 

She couldn't see him up there, hidden as he was by the tangle of limbs and leaves. She knew he was there, of course. He'd taken to that tree a lot of late.

 

“Should you really be up there, spying on them?” she asked, giving up on the subtle approach.

 

“Keh! I ain't spying, wench,” he countered hotly. “Ain't no `spying' about it.”

 

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “So you say.”

 

“He's Miroku's reincarnation, ain't he? Just making sure that he keeps that cursed hand of his off my grandpup.”

 

“You really think that's a problem?” she asked with a shake of her head.

 

InuYasha dropped out of the tree at Kagome's feet and stood up with a marked scowl. “They're sleeping, anyway.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he started to walk away.

 

Kagome hurried after him, falling into step beside him. “Gin said that the child came back?”

 

InuYasha shot her a quick glance. “She did.”

 

Kagome sighed. “They're good with her—both of them.”

 

“Well, why not? The damned pervert wanted to have children with every woman he ever met, didn't he?”

 

Kagome rolled her eyes but giggled. “Kurt doesn't seem like that,” she pointed out.

 

“Hell, I wouldn't put it past him. He's just putting up a good front.”

 

“Why would he do that, dog-boy?”

 

“Keh! `Cause he'd be cut to shreds by whoever's closest if he didn't.”

 

“. . . I swear, sometimes I think I said `osuwari' to you one time too many . . .”

 

InuYasha grunted, absently reaching up to finger the now-dormant prayer beads that had been his curse—sort of—for a long, long time. “You did,” he gloated, “but that ain't got nothing to do with this.”

 

Kagome heaved a sigh but smiled. Just as quickly as the smile surfaced, though, it dissolved.

 

“Forget it, Kagome,” InuYasha remarked with a shake of his head when he intercepted the thoughtful frown on her face.

 

“But I didn't say anything,” she pointed out a little too reasonably.

 

“Yeah, but I know you. Kich'll figure it out. Stay out of it.”

 

She sighed again. There were times when InuYasha was a bit too perceptive. This was one of those times. “But he and Bellaniece never fight.”

 

“Never say never, wench.”

 

“InuYasha . . .”

 

He grabbed her hand and dragged her along the path away from the mansion. “No, no, no,” he grouched.

 

“I wasn't going to meddle,” she argued, tugging against his hold.

 

“Yeah, and I don't breathe,” he shot back as he rolled his eyes and hurried her along. “Let the pups alone,” he insisted. “They ain't babies anymore.”

 

Kagome shot him a pouting glower that would have been much more effective had he deigned to notice it, letting him pull her along with him. He had a point, and she knew it. Still, it was hard to stop mothering her children, no matter what age they were.

 

She sped up, falling into step beside him, and turned to face him, but stopped short when she saw the expression on his face. He was thinking about it, too—about his normally level-headed son and the turmoil simmering just below his otherwise calm-façade. As much as InuYasha blustered and grumbled, he really did worry just as much as she did, even if he were loathe to admit as much . . .

 

But he did have a point this time. If Kagome offered the wrong advice this time, he'd just be that much more agitated about the entire situation, but if she were to agree with his stance, then there was a good chance that he'd never, ever come around, and to be honest, she had a feeling that she already knew the gist of the argument, anyway. Kichiro wasn't about to admit that maybe Samantha really was right about Kurt being her mate. He was so convinced that it was nothing more than a complex infatuation that he wasn't even willing to consider the idea that it wasn't, and Bellaniece, she knew, had been struggling of late, wondering if Kichiro weren't simply believing whatever he wanted.

 

The thing was, with every day that passed, as she watched Kurt and Samantha, Kagome, herself, was starting to believe, too. There was an intangible quality about the two of them, an unspoken need that drew them together even if they tried to hide it from everyone else. Well, that wasn't entirely true. Samantha didn't really try to hide her feelings at all, though she did try not to say anything in front of her father that might lead to an altercation. Kagome suspected that Samantha simply didn't want to fight with him over it, not that she could blame her. Whenever he thought he was right, Kichiro would argue himself silly to prove his point.

 

But that wasn't going to help this time around. That sort of tenacity, whether he realized it or not, was only going to hurt the one person that he really didn't intend to hurt, at all: Samantha. With as close as the girl was to her father, his unhappiness over her choice was wearing away at her, slowly but surely.

 

Kagome only wished that Kichiro would realize and come to accept things sooner rather than later. Putting Samantha into the middle of it was just not fair; not after everything else that she'd been through in the last few months . . .

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

“We put her to bed . . . She . . . she cried herself to sleep, and we stayed with her, but she . . . Well, she didn't seem to want to be held or anything . . . In fact, she cried harder if we tried to . . .” Cora Conor trailed off, staring intently at her hands with a decidedly dejected air that she struggled to keep in check. Gin filled a delicate porcelain mug with tea and slipped it into the woman's trembling hands. “We thought she was just having a hard time adjusting: her first night there, you know . . .? But . . .”

 

Dean Conor gently squeezed his mate's shoulder and smiled apologetically. “When Cora went in to check on her this morning, she was gone.”

 

Cain sat back and nodded as Gin offered Dean a cup of tea. “She's fine,” he assured them both with a wan smile. “She came back here. In fact, my granddaughter found her outside.”

 

The Conors exchanged looks. Dean sighed and shook his head. “She kept . . . kept asking for her daddy,” he said at length. “I . . . I thought you said that she never knew her father . . .”

 

Cain licked his lips and slowly conceded that. “She doesn't, but . . . but the guy who brought her to us . . . Well, they spent quite a bit of time together while they were traveling here, so she got a little attached to him, as I'm sure you can understand.”

 

The couple exchanged more looks. “He doesn't want to keep her?” Cora asked quietly. She hadn't wanted to, had she? She was concerned about what was best for the girl, and in Cain's mind, that spoke volumes.

 

He let out a deep breath. “I don't think so. I mean, he hasn't expressed any interest in doing that, no.”

 

Cora nodded and drew a deep breath. “I just can't help but think . . . If she thinks that he is her father . . .”

 

“There's, um, more to it than that,” Cain said. “Anyway . . . if you want to try to have her overnight again, let me know. Think about it for a couple days, and give me a call. If you'd like, you could take her for a night next weekend.”

 

The Conors stood up and shook his hand, and Cain watched them go with a slight frown on his face. Gin showed them to the door then slipped back into the office. He could tell from the expression on her face that there was something on her mind, and he figured that he knew what it was likely to be, too.

 

“Maybe it is a bad idea, Zelig-sensei,” she said as she gathered the tea cups and slipped them onto the tray. “If you want my opinion, she belongs with Samantha . . . and Kurt.”

 

Cain let out a long sigh and rubbed his forehead in a weary sort of way. “I think so, too,” he agreed, “but neither one of them has given any kind of indication that they'd be interested in doing that, and under the circumstances, I don't think that it'd be right to ask them to.”

 

She bit her lip and stared at him for a minute, her ears flattening slightly as she pondered what he'd said. “They remind me of us,” she remarked at length.

 

“Us?” he repeated with a shake of his head. “How do you figure?”

 

She shrugged and stepped around the desk, slipping onto his lap as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Don't you remember? You were trying to find a family to take Jillian, and all the while, I kept thinking that I wanted to keep her but worried that you'd think that I was taking on too much since Evan was still a baby, too.”

 

Cain smiled at the memory. The entire time Gin had thought that, he had been thinking that he didn't have a right to ask her to take on that much responsibility. After all, it was true enough. Evan was only a few months older than Jillian, and Jilli had been an infant at the time. But she was such a beautiful, happy baby that she hadn't been any real trouble. At the time, though, Cain had gone through the steps of finding a family who were looking for a child, and he'd even gone so far as to meet with the couple when Gin, in a wash of miserable tears, had hesitantly suggested that they keep the girl.

 

“So maybe all they need is for someone to suggest it,” Gin suddenly exclaimed in a gush of inspiration.

 

“Gin,” he said, catching her around the waist to hold her still before she could dash off to do exactly that. “Listen . . . Right now, I'm not sure that anyone else would really think that it's a good idea. Your brother's having a hard time, coming to terms with the idea that Samantha chose Kurt as her mate, and putting the child into the midst of that . . . That isn't really fair, is it?”

 

Gin sighed, her eyes slipping to the side as she shot him a rather petulant sort of pout. “But they love her, and she loves them,” she pointed out.

 

Cain nodded. “I know,” he agreed. “I don't like it, either, but right now, the important thing is that that little girl needs a family. She should have had one all along.”

 

She heaved another sigh designed to let her know that she thought the entire thing was just too complicated. Leaning against his shoulder, she tangled her fingers into the long ponytail that hung over his shoulder. “Zelig-sensei?”

 

He rubbed her hip idly, going over the whole thing for what had to be the millionth time since the little girl had appeared on his property. “Hmm?”

 

“If they asked, would you let them keep her?”

 

Cain frowned. “You mean, if they came to me and said they wanted to keep her?”

 

She nodded.

 

“I don't know,” he ventured at length. “If it was something they both wanted, then it'd be fine with me . . . but you need to promise me you won't suggest it to them, baby girl.”

 

“But—”

 

“No,” he insisted gently. “If they think of it on their own, that's one thing, but . . . but they're not even mated yet, and given the circumstances, they may want to wait, at least for a while, anyway. I mean, they've never even gone on a real date, you know.”

 

Gin smiled suddenly and giggled. “Neither did we,” she pointed out.

 

“Well, we kind of did.”

 

She wrinkled her nose. “No, we didn't. The one time we did, you made me cry.”

 

“Gin!” he gasped indignantly. “I didn't mean to do that, and . . . and we did, too, go on other dates.”

 

She giggled and kissed his cheek. “That's okay, Zelig-sensei. I love you, anyway, even if we didn't actually date.”

 

Cain snorted then sighed, slowly shaking his head. “You're the one who just had to use me for my body,” he pointed out almost sullenly.

 

Gin gasped again and blushed about ten shades of red. “I didn't!”

 

“You did,” he argued.

 

“I did not!”

 

“You did, too. Just before I left Japan, you said—”

 

Gin clapped her hands over his mouth and shook her head adamantly. “I didn't, didn't, didn't!”

 

He pulled her hands away and grinned. “Now you're lying,” he told her, “and you know that lying is a horrible thing.”

 

“I'm not lying,” she countered with a frown that was completely lost when she giggled a second later.

 

“And liars should be punished.”

 

Gin froze for a moment, her eyes widening as she slowly shook her head. “Oh, you can't do that,” she insisted. “There're people here!”

 

Cain's grin turned wolfish. “Then you'd actually better run this time, Gin,” he said. “One.”

 

“Cain!”

 

“Two.”

 

“But—”

 

“Thr—”

 

With a little yelp, Gin shot to her feet and dashed out of the office, much to Cain's amusement. He didn't stand up right away to follow, figuring that just this once, he might do well to wait before chasing after her. He didn't care who saw them, he supposed. After all, it was his house, wasn't it? But if he didn't wait, Gin would probably be too embarrassed to come out of their room for at least a month, and if she didn't come out of their room, she wouldn't make his cakes at night, either . . .

 

All the same, he wasn't surprised to hear a door slam in the distance a moment later, and with an entirely evil sort of chuckle, he stood up slowly and sauntered out of the study, heading for the staircase—and the wife who was waiting for him in their bedroom . . .

 

 

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

A/N:

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Final Thought from Bas:

Not that again ...

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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~