InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Fruition ❯ Deck the Halls ( Chapter 33 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

"That . . . is just not a Christmas Tree."

Charity glanced over her shoulder at Ben, who was lounging in the doorway having just put the girls to bed.  "I'm making do," she insisted, turning back to face the makeshift tree and cocking her head to the left as she regarded it slowly.  "I can't believe we didn't think to look for a fake tree when we were in town earlier."

Ben nodded.  "Where are you going to put a star on that?  Or, more to the point, how are you going to do it?"

Charity sighed since he had a point.  Given that the only tree she could find that was small enough to bring inside was a palm, it looked pretty darned funny . . . "There really is no way to save this, is there?" she asked, her ears drooping slightly as she slowly shook her head.

Using his shoulder to lever himself away from the archway, Ben shuffled toward her, wrapping his arms around her and leaning in to rub her temple with his cheek.  "They won't remember it," he promised.

She shot him a droll look that was ruined seconds later when she giggled as she reached up to grasp his forearms in her hands.  "Maybe not, but they'd see pictures," she pointed out.

Ben chuckled.  "We've got another couple weeks," he reminded her.  "I'm sure we can figure out the tree before then."  Letting go of her and grasping her hand when she started to protest, he shook his head, leading her over to the opened windows and out into the night.  It was mild, almost borderline muggy, but the pleasant temperature in the high sixties kept it from being unpleasant.  On the breeze coming off the gulf, he could smell the hint of rain, but the skies above were clear, bright, highlighted by the myriad of stars that hung, just out of reach.

"Do you want a fire?" he asked, nodding toward the unlit brazier.

"No," she replied, smiling up at him.  "It's nice out here."

"Come on," he said, giving her hand a gentle tug as he led the way to the hammock and carefully stretched out in it before pulling her down beside him and wrapping her in his arms.  "I'm sorry we couldn’t go home for Christmas," he said.  She hadn't complained when he'd told her that they would have to be there longer than he'd originally planned, but then, Charity wasn't really the type to throw a fit over such things, either.

"It's okay," she assured him.  "I'm here with the girls . . . and you . . ."

He didn't have to see her face to know that she was probably blushing, and he smiled.

Charity sighed, but snuggled a little closer, one of her hands, resting on his chest as she gazed up at the stars.  "I, uh . . . I talked to Manami yesterday," she ventured.  "She called the satellite phone while you were talking to Kyouhei-san."

"You did?" he asked, unable to fully quell the hint of trepidation that crept up his spine.  Charity didn't seem upset, though, so that was something.  Even so, the idea of the two of them talking?  He wasn't entirely sure what to think of that . . . "Anything you want to tell me about?"

She shrugged.  "She just said that what happened at the party was her fault . . . She said . . . She said that she was never your mate, but that she loved you, and that makes sense . . . I mean, you . . . You wouldn’t do . . . anything . . . with someone you didn't love."  She let out a deep breath, and he could feel the spark of sadness in her youki.  He grimaced and started to speak, but she was faster in her own quiet way.  "It's okay, you know," she told him, and despite the lingering melancholy, she really did sound all right.  "It's stupid, isn't it?  I mean, I wasn't even . . . Heck, Papa wasn't even born back then, so . . ." She sighed.  "It's not like I thought that you only existed in the time since I've met you—or maybe . . . Maybe that's exactly what I wanted to think . . ."

"Charity—"

She shook her head but moved in a little closer, her knee bending, resting atop his leg.  "I need to say this, Ben," she murmured.  "I was . . . I was hurt, and I was unfair to you, and that's really no excuse because, like I said, you really didn't owe me any explanations, and I . . . I was childish, and—"

He cut her off with an index finger on her lips as he rolled just enough so that he could see her face.  She blinked but remained silent, and he smiled at her.  "I did owe you, though," he said.  "After all, I'd think that it looks bad when one's mate kisses someone else . . ."

She grasped his wrist, pulled his hand down away from her mouth.  "One's . . .? Are you saying . . .?"

"Don't you know it?  Don't you feel it, too?"  He chuckled.  "Why else would my youkai be able to talk to you?"

"So, that's . . ." She trailed off, and he could feel the change in her youki, a slow shift as her gaze fell to the side.  "But . . ."

"But?" he echoed, unsure where the mercurial mood shift had come from or what he'd done to have caused it in the first place.  "But what?"

"I just . . ." she sighed.  "I don't understand . . ."

"Understand what?" he asked gently.

She shook her head, and she might have sat up if he didn't have his arms around her.  "But . . . I mean, we've known each other for a long time, right?  And you never . . . I didn't . . ."

He sighed, too, as it all came into focus, as the thought occurred to him that maybe he'd waited a little too long.  "I think a part of me knew it from the start," he admitted.  "From the first time I danced with you, the first time I held you."

Again, she shook her head, her confusion becoming a palpable thing.  Ben grimaced.  The last thing he'd ever intended to do was to hurt her, and maybe . . . Maybe he'd done just that every time he'd taken that step back, let her go . . .

"You were nineteen years old that night," he said, feeling her resistance, but stubbornly refusing to loosen his grip, "and all I could think was, I was so old—and no, age isn't supposed to matter, but it does, because when I looked at you back then, if I had pursued you the way I wanted to, you never would have had the chance to breathe—to grow—to experience things . . . And I wanted that for you.  I . . . I just never wanted you to ever look back and resent me when you realized the things I might have kept you from doing."

"And you think I would have?"

Ben sighed.  "I don't know.  I was afraid that you would have, yes."  Reaching out, turning her chin gently to make her look at him, he willed her to see, willed her to understand.  "I was almost seven hundred years old back then, and I know how much I grew—how much I experienced—even from nineteen.  There are so many things that happen—things that shape you, change you—and you deserved that freedom, Charity.  I'm . . . I'm sorry if you didn't understand.  I'm sorry if I hurt you.  That was . . . That was the last thing I ever wanted to do."

"So, nineteen was too young?  And now?"

His answer was a slow kiss, a gentle flutter of emotion, of everything that he'd ever tried to tell himself.  Beyond the touch of his lips on hers, he laid everything bare, sought to convey through action, alone, just what he understood deep down: every silent moment of yearning, every promise he never dared to speak aloud, and an apology that needed no words.  Too many thoughts, too many feelings that he'd repressed for so very long, and everything that he wanted her to see, all tied up in the softest crush of lips, the whispered sighs when she slipped her arms around his neck.

Strange, how the sense of absolute perfection could be tempered by the surge of something far more tender, even as a wonder so complete, so inebriating that it brought a stinging to his closed eyes, a trembling to his hands that he could not control . . . Her sighs humbled him, yet lifted him higher at the same time, tempering his impatience as he held himself in check, giving her all of his heart in the space of a breath, in a delicate caress of his lips against hers . . .

Pulling back just far enough to reach up, to stroke her cheek, he kissed the corner of her lips, rubbed her nose with his, took his time as he kissed her face.  She sighed softly, relaxing against him at last, and he chuckled a little unevenly.  "You are my mate, Charity.  I've never wanted another woman the way I want you," he whispered.

She leaned up to kiss him as the salt of her tears hit him hard.  Wincing involuntarily, he lay back and gathered her close once more.  "Don't cry," he said, gently wiping her cheeks with his fingertips.

She choked out a half-laugh, half-sob.  "I'm ha-happy," she managed to say in a high-pitched squeak.  "And I never, ever would have regretted being with you."

"That's what you say now," he teased.  "I am old, you know.  I'm pretty set in my ways . . ."

"Oh, I don't know about that," she countered, snuggling against his shoulder.  "You're adjusting to being a daddy pretty well, don't you think?"

"Yeah, but I meant my habits and stuff.  I mean, I hope you're not going to insist that I wear pajamas every night."

She snorted.  "Keep your clothes on, Ben," she warned.

"I don't know . . . You might like it.  In fact, maybe you should start sleeping naked, too."

She didn't reply, but she did giggle—and turned her face further against his chest.

"I'm just tossing that one out there," he said.  "Just so you know that I really wouldn’t mind."

'Neither would I,' his youkai-voice added.

'Not at all,' Ben supposed, unable to repress the smile that surfaced on his features.


Leaning in his elbow, Ben smiled as he stroked Charity's hair, as he breathed in the scent of her, basking in the understanding that she wanted the same things that he did.  Reveling in the sense of well-being that he couldn't entirely credit, he chuckled.  Damned if she didn't make him feel good, even when she slept . . .

'Well, you know, not to rush anything, but when are you planning on claiming her?'

'One thing at a time,' he thought.  'Just . . . let me make sure that some of this stuff dies down a little.'

'Don't take too long, all right?  We've waited long enough.  She's waited long enough . . .'

It was true, what his youkai-voice said.  Though he still couldn't be entirely sorry that he'd waited so long, he had to admit that he was beyond relieved that the waiting game was finally over.

He had no idea, just what time it was.  It didn't really matter, anyway.  He was too wound up to sleep.  Besides, watching over her? Well, that wasn't really a chore or anything at all . . .

His cell phone vibrated on the nightstand, and for a brief moment, he considered ignoring it until morning.  Too bad he knew well enough that anyone who had his number wouldn't be calling this late unless it was important.  He reached over and grabbed the device, glancing at the caller ID before hurriedly connecting it.  "Kyouhei."

A loud car horn in the background was magnified by the video feed, Kyouhei heaved a sigh.  Ben frowned at the odd angle at which his brother held his head, almost like he was trying to hide part of his face.  "Can you talk?"

"Yeah, of course.  How was the summit?"

Stepping inside and closing the door to drown out the random traffic noises, the video feed shook precariously while his brother pressed a few buttons on the phone to send the call to the house's central-nav.  A moment later, Kyouhei came into view where he sat on an overstuffed, off-white sofa, wearing a very formal, if not entirely old-fashioned, Japanese outfit.  "I'm glad it's over—at least, for now."

"Anything new to say?"

Kyouhei shook his head slightly.  "They want to try to infiltrate InuYasha's Forest," he said.

"That would be akin to having a death wish," Ben muttered, glancing over at Charity, who was sound asleep beside him.

Kyouhei grimaced.  "Yes, well, they're also thinking it may well be simpler to get their hands on Inutaisho Sierra-sama."

Ben sat up straight, eyes flaring wide.  "No."

"The general consensus seems to be that if they can get Toga-sama out of the way, Mamoruzen-sama would be easy to defeat since he's . . . hanyou."

"Gunnar's not nearly the slouch that they seem to believe," Ben growled.  "Did you give your opinion?"

Turning his face to look at the camera full-on, Kyouhei's gaze blanked entirely as Ben's eyes narrowed at the four long, deep claw-marks that traversed his brother's entire face from temple to jawline, barely missing his eye.  They were healing, but they were fresh enough that they had to have been incurred within the last few hours.  "What the hell . . .? Who did that to you?" Ben hissed.

The stone cold in Kyouhei's gaze didn't diminish when he barked out a humorless laugh. "Who do you think, Benjiro?" he countered tightly.  "It seems that otou-san didn't care for my opinion on the plan."

"Get out of there, Kyouhei," Ben commanded.  "Get out of there now."

Kyouhei shook his head slowly.  "I cannot," he replied.

"And if he attacks you again?"

"I only allowed it because of the others in attendance," Kyouhei shot back. "It won't happen again."

"Damn straight, because you're not staying there," Ben growled.

"It's fine," he argued.  "Or would you rather sacrifice the tai-youkai?  I know what they're plotting, but I don't know when."

"They won't be home until after the holidays," Ben said.  "Even then, I'll tell Toga; get him to understand that they cannot go home yet."

"Where they are hardly matters, and keeping them there might well aide their plan.  They have operatives everywhere, nii-san, and Sierra-sama would be much easier to target there than she would be here."  Kyouhei dragged a hand through his hair, his expression darkening even more.  "Zelig-san is also on their list."

Ben grimaced.  "Because of Gin or because of Bas?"

Kyouhei sounded infinitely weary when he answered.   "Both.  Either.  Take your pick."

"Damn it."  Ben shook his head.  "They won't touch Zelig," he promised.

"What will you do?"

"Zelig is my tai-youkai," Ben stated.  "Bastards the likes of them will never touch him."

Kyouhei sighed.  "They want to coordinate an uprising the likes of which we've never seen," he said.  "They want to shake the very foundations of everything that we know, starting with hiding what we are.  If they manage to do this, the body count, both humans as well as youkai, will be high.  As far as I know, they’re trying to co-ordinate an all-out offensive: every region, every tai-youkai—all of them—other than the MacDonnough, of course."

Ben rubbed his face as he considered Kyouhei's prediction.  If they were plotting such a thing, it would take some time, but he didn't doubt at all that his brother's dire prediction was entirely accurate.  "Damn Tetsuo and his delusions of grandeur . . ."

"Tetsuo is not the threat," Kyouhei stated flatly.  "At least, not the biggest one."

"Tetsuo is the threat," Ben countered.  "He, alone, could very well give Sesshoumaru a run for his money.  He's done it before."

"Perhaps," Kyouhei agreed.  "But he wants to be Inu no Taisho so desperately, he is not able to stop obsessing long enough to fully plan out or coordinate any of this.  He's got tunnel vision, and because of it, he cannot see the forest for the trees."

"Then who is the one masterminding it all?" Ben demanded.

Kyouhei sighed again, shaking his head, shifting his gaze back to the camera once more.  "Otou-san," he replied, "and if they succeed?  Tetsuo will name otou-san the new Japanese tai-youkai."