InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Metempsychosis ❯ One-Sided ( Chapter 56 )

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

"She came to you, a child.  You turned her into a woman for yourself, but you never, ever taught her how to be one outside of the bedroom . . . Now, my question for you, Ashur, is, what the hell are you going to do about it?"

Staring out the wall of windows that overlooked the back yard of the New York City townhouse, Ashur still didn't have an answer for that question.  On top of that, when he'd dropped Kells off at preschool yesterday morning and told him that Manami would be staying with him through the weekend, that she'd pick him up after school, the boy hadn't even bothered to look at him as he'd turned and trudged into the building without even a hug goodbye . . .

He'd been thinking about that question for the last day and a half, ever since it was presented to him.  Was it even possible to undo the damage that had already been done?  He sighed.  If he could go back in time, if he could stop her from having overheard that conversation . . . But that wasn't really where it had all gone crazy, was it?  If what Devlin had said was true, then the problems had started well before that, even if Ashur really wasn't sure, just where it had all gone awry.

Buying her things, giving her little gifts that he thought would please her . . . They had nothing at all do to with the things she did for him—with him.  All he'd wanted to do was to make her smile, to hear her laughter, and somehow . . . That the gifts had the opposite effect?  That was something that hadn't even crossed his mind . . .

'Maybe it should have . . .'

'Yeah, or maybe you sensed it, but you just ignored it, too.'

He grimaced at the deadly accuracy of his youkai-voice.  And yet, a part of him had known it all along, hadn't he?  That last night when she'd come to him . . . In her own way, she was saying goodbye, and a part of him had heard it, even if he hadn't wanted to acknowledge it.  The desperation in her every breath, in her every reaction . . . He'd felt it that night on some level . . . Those tears in her eyes, and he'd thought . . .

Just what the hell had he done . . .?

Leaning his raised elbow against the window frame, he sighed.  So lost in his own rioting emotions, in the things that she made him feel, he hadn't stopped to think, not when it mattered.

'First things first, Kyouhei.  Let's get through this damned dinner and gala first.  Then we'll march over there and demand that Jessa listen.'

'Listen?  To what?  What the hell am I supposed to say to her to make her want to come back home?'

'Don't be stupid, Kyouhei.  Tell her whatever you need to tell her to get her to believe you, for starters.  Stop keeping her at arm's length, and let her in or you're going to lose her for real because you know, don’t you?  It won't matter, where you go, how long you live, you're never, ever going to find another woman like her . . .'

'You think I don't know that?' he shot back.  'I do!  I wouldn’t want to find another woman—any woman.  Jessa . . . She's my . . .' Eyes flaring wide as the truth of what he'd almost admitted sank in, he let his forehead fall against the back of his hand.  'She's . . . my . . .'

'You can say it, you know,' his youkai replied.  'You're not wrong.'

He grimaced.  'She's my—'

The trill of the doorbell cut through his thoughts, and he let out a long sigh as he pushed away from the window and strode off to answer it.

"Dude, how's it goin'?"

Blinking with a frown as he stared at the silver-haired youkai before him, Ashur stepped back to allow Evan Zelig to enter.  He'd only actually met him a handful of times before, and none of them were much more than a quick introduction or a hurried hello.  "Evan . . . what brings you by?"

Evan chuckled, sapphire eyes, so like his father's, sparkling with his good humor.  "I'm playing errand boy for Mama today," he admitted.  "She's so busy with last minute shit, she didn't have time to come over."

"I see . . ." he said, even though he really didn't.

Evan's grin widened.  "Well, see, it's like this, Ash—can I call you, 'Ash'?"

"It's fine," he replied with a flick of his hand.  Leading the way into the living room, he motioned at the wetbar.  "Would you like something to drink?"

"Eh, I probably shouldn't.  V doesn't like it when I get hammered before—" he checked his watch and chuckled, "—noon."

Gesturing to the sofa, Ashur sat down in a nearby chair.  "So, was there something your mother wanted?"

"Well, actually, yeah, there is," he said, settling on the edge of the sofa, knee bobbing up and down with an almost nervous kind of energy.  "One of the bachelors she had lined up backed out at the last minute due to a death in the family, so Mama was wondering if you'd be interested in filling in.  I mean, objectively speaking, you're hot . . ."

Ashur arched an eyebrow at Evan.

Evan laughed.  "I'm a guy!  I notice these things!"

He opened his mouth to point out that most guys really didn't notice that kind of thing, but he let it go, figuring it probably wasn't worth the effort.  "Uh, I'm . . . I'm not really interested . . ."

Evan sighed.  "Yeah, that's kind of what I figured you'd say.  I mean, most guys don't really think that taking some random woman on a charity date sounds like their idea of a rockin' time.  I even told Mama that you'd probably say no . . ."

Ashur shook his head.  "I know it's for a good cause," he went on.  "I just don't think it's a good idea.  I'm kind of . . ."

Evan's eyes widened.  "You've already got a woman, huh?"

"Uh . . ."

He chuckled, dragging his hand through his hair.  "Is she hot?"  Evan laughed again and held up his hands in a purely defensive manner when Ashur glowered at him.  "I'm sure she is," he relented.  "But she's not your mate yet, right?"

"No," he forced himself to say, unsure why he was even admitting that much to this particular Zelig.

"Are you bringing her with you to the dinner and gala?  If so, I'll be happy to tell Mama.  I don't think she was aware or she wouldn't have asked me to talk to you . . ."

Ashur sighed, leaning to the side, propping his temple in his fingertips.  "It's not like that," he grumbled.  "Anyway, she's not here with me at the moment.  She's staying with Myrna for a couple weeks . . ."

"I see," Evan said as he considered that.  "Would she have a problem with you being auctioned off?"

"Probably not," Ashur muttered.  Considering she was already convinced that he didn't want her, he highly doubted that much of anything could make it worse than it already was, but even then, he really wasn't interested in the legendary bachelor's auction, either . . .

"All right, then here's the deal," Evan said as he dug his phone out of his pocket.  He fiddled with it for a minute before handing it over.

Ashur frowned at the video that he'd cued up, and, against his better judgment, he pushed, 'play' . . .

Gin Zelig's pretty face appeared on the screen, and Ashur very nearly sighed out loud . . . "Hi, Ashur!  It's me, Gin, and I wanted to ask you if you'd please, please, please consider filling in for Bachelor Number Ten?  Please?  Pretty please?  Pretty please?  If you agree, I swear, I'll owe you!  Huge!  Big!  So, so big!  Even bigger than Cain's big dog—"

"Gin!" Cain Zelig exclaimed, and, from the proximity of his voice, he was probably the one doing the filming.

The woman blinked innocently.  "Was there something wrong with what I said?"

Cain didn't answer, but there was a very long, very loud sigh.

Gin waved her hands quickly.  "Oh, and before you say no, if you won't, I . . . I understand . . . It's just that it's mostly for children, and since you're a daddy, you understand just how important it is that we help these babies, don't you?"  As she spoke, her hanyou-ears flatted out, pointing straight in opposite directions, and Ashur grimaced.

That was entirely unfair, as far as Ashur was concerned.  'Talk about hitting below the belt . . .'  He made a face.  "All right," he grumbled, heaving a loud sigh of his own.  "I . . . I'll do it . . ."

Evan laughed.  "Flattened her ears, did she?"

Ashur shot Evan a quelling glance.  The damned man had the gall to laugh.


"Hey, Mama.  I'm back!" Evan called as he breezed into the Zelig townhouse.

"My baby," she greeted happily, rising up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek as he leaned down.  "Did you talk to Ashur?"

"I did," he said, scooping up his youngest sister as she bounced around his feet with her arms held high in the air.  "Hey, monkey!  Did you miss me?"

Daniella giggled and kissed Evan's other cheek.  "Yeah," she said, her voice quiet and soft.

"What did he say?"

"Well, he did agree to it—after he watched your video—I knew that was a great idea."

"Oh, good!  I mean, he's a very good-looking man—almost as good-looking as all my boys!" Gin insisted.

Evan chuckled.  "Yeah, but . . . Did you invite Myrna and her houseguest to the dinner and gala?"

Scanning through the lists she had compiled in a Slim-File, Gin nodded absently.  "Myrna?  Oh, of course!  She's got her cousin staying with her.  I mean, she was staying with Ashur, but she's visiting with Myrna at the moment, so sure, I invited them both . . ."

Evan thought that over and nodded as he scratched his chin and let Daniella down to run off.  "You, uh, know anything about those two?  Ashur and Myrna's cousin?"

"Oh, not really . . . She's Kells' nanny—at least, until her estate is worked out . . . A really beautiful girl . . . I mean, she’s a lady!"

"Yeah?  You have a picture?"

Gin glanced up from the Slim-File and smiled as she nodded at her phone, lying on the coffee table.  "There's a couple in there," she said.  "Charity took pictures during Kells' birthday party . . . She's the red-head."

Evan grabbed his mother's phone and flipped through the pictures, only to whistle low when he located one of a drop-dead gorgeous red-head, holding Kells on her lap as she smiled at the camera.  "Wow . . . She's damn hot . . ."

"Oh, she is," Valerie Zelig remarked, peering around Evan's arm at the phone.  "Why are you looking at other women, Roka?" she asked in a rather bored tone.

"He said they're not mates yet, bu-u-u-ut . . ." Evan shrugged.  "Something in his tone . . ."

Gin blinked, setting the file down as she stared at her son.  "Really?  Oh, those two would be just beautiful together . . .!"

"I don't know, Mama.  Maybe you should check the seating chart—make sure that she's next to him, don't you think?"

"You're right," Gin agreed, retrieving the Slim-File once more.  "I'll call Chelsea and let her know . . ."  Then, he sighed.  “And maybe I’ll check around, see if there are any other eligible bachelors for the auction . . .”

Evan chuckled, slipping an arm around his mate.  "You know, he has no idea she's going to this thing."

Valerie frowned.  "Should you tell him?"

"Well, no one told us that the other was going to be there the year we went," he pointed out.

She snorted indelicately.  "Yeah, and that wasn't a complete and utter disaster . . ."

He kissed her temple.  "What are you talking about?  We're together now, aren't we?"

"You're so weird, Roka.  You and your selective memory . . . Why are you so weird?"

He chuckled, bumping the tip of her nose with his.  "I dunno, V . . . Why were you in my bushes . . .?"

"Jerk."

"But you love me."

She sighed, but finally smiled.  "Yeah, I do.  I don't know why, but I do . . ."


"Myrna tells me that you're currently working as a nanny."

Jessa turned her head slightly, trying to make sense of what Justin Darwin was trying to say to her over the din of the music in the club.  Somehow, she'd let Myrna talk her into another blind date, and it had only taken her about two minutes to realize that it was yet another mistake.  Oh, sure, Justin was nice enough—an investment banker—and he was cute, too, in a very upstanding, squeaky clean kind of way.  Black hair cut short and sleek—undoubtedly a daily pain, given that the lamprey-youkai likely had to cut it daily, or maybe it was a part of his concealment, Jessa didn't rightfully know—swarthy, dark in a Spanish kind of way, and not one hair out of place, not one wrinkle in the man's black silk shirt . . . He was almost too perfect, wasn't he?  Like he'd stumbled out of GQ magazine or maybe off a billboard ad for men's hygiene products . . . "Pardon?"

He smiled and leaned in a little closer.  "Myrna says that you work as a nanny," he repeated.

"Oh . . . I . . . I did," she explained, unable to control the pang that shot through her at the very thought of Kells' sweet face.

Justin nodded, as though he understood.  "Kids can be kind of a lot to deal with," he allowed.  "Not your thing?"

"What?  Oh, no!  I . . . I enjoyed it very much!  Kells is the best little boy in the world, and I wouldn’t trade one second of the time I spent with him!  Not ever!" she clarified, unable to keep the brusque, almost offended, tone out of her voice.  Justin looked entirely surprised by her sudden outburst, and she sighed.  Then, she grimaced inwardly, and she cleared her throat, struggled for a calm she just wasn’t feeling.  "I wasn't needed . . . anymore . . ."

He laughed, but to Jessa, it sounded like a perfunctory kind of thing—the sort of laugh that was indulgent, at best.

'Or maybe it's all in your head, lass.  Give the poor guy a fair shake, can't you?  Okay, so he's not Ashur, but to be honest?  There's really no way any other man is going to be . . .'

Somehow, the words of her youkai-voice really didn't do a thing to reassure her.  If anything, she felt just a little worse for that . . .

He didn't seem to notice her preoccupation at all, however, and whether that was a blessing or not, Jessa wasn't entirely certain . . . "So, are you interested in going to college?  Get yourself a real career?"

"Oh, I . . . I hadn't really thought about it much yet . . ." she allowed, which was true enough.  Given how much of her time was spent, thinking about those she'd left behind, she hadn't really considered her future much, if at all . . .

"You know, if I can make a suggestion?  Investment banking is really the way to go.  I know, I know, it sounds horrible and boring, and sometimes, it can be, but really?  As far as earning potential?  The sky's the limit if you're willing to work hard and dedicate yourself to it.  Just last month, I was in the Bahamas for a meeting with one of my clients—the Bahamas, all fully paid out of the business account at work . . . And, if I may say?  A girl like you?  Seems like something you'd enjoy."

"I . . . I haven't really given it much thought," she repeated, hating the hint of weakness in her voice, hating the sultry air of the club.  Too many people in too small of a place, it all culminated in a rather unpleasant heat, cloying humidity, despite the air conditioner that struggled to keep up with the rising temperatures.

He chuckled.  "It's never too early to think about these things.  Your future's important.  If you don't take the time now to secure it—a steady job with great pay and awesome benefits—then you're doing yourself a great disservice.  You know, I know the dean of admissions at NYU.  I could see what I can do about pulling a few strings, maybe calling in a few favors . . ."

She tried to smile; she really did.  It probably came off as more of a grimace, because the tolerant little smile was back on his face, and she stifled a sigh.  "Uh, Mr. Darwin, that's awfully kind of you, but I really don't think that this is working out," she said, wincing inwardly at her own lack of tact, given the situation.  "You're a lovely man, but . . . I think I should go."

Stumbling to her feet, she turned to go, only to stop abruptly when Justin grasped her wrist.  Turning to pin him with a questioning look as she rather pointedly stared at his hand, Jessa carefully extricated herself from his grasp.   He smiled rather apologetically as he let go of her.  "At least let me see you home," he said, shoulders bobbing in a curt shrug.

"Oh, no, I wouldn't want to trouble you," she insisted.  "I'll just . . . just get a taxi.  It's fine."

He didn't look like he wanted to let her go, though whether it was simply his sense of propriety or something else, she didn't know, and honestly, didn't really care.  The club was stifling—he was stifling . . . Her head was starting to throb with a rhythm that was highly unwelcome and entirely unpleasant, and she just wanted some room to breathe . . . "Let me at least pay for your cab," he offered.

"You really don't have to," she insisted as he slipped a hand onto the small of her back and carefully maneuvered her through the crowded club.  "I'll be fine," she insisted, stifling a sigh.

The air outside the club wasn't much better than the rather humid air inside, but at least the sound was dulled, replaced by the sounds of the city that all blended together into a white noise.

Justin stepped forward, raising a hand to hail a cab.  He opened the door for her and smiled.  "I'm sorry things didn't work out," he said as she slipped into the vehicle.  "It was nice meeting you, Jessa."

"Thank you," she replied as he closed the door.  He dropped some money through the front passenger window, leaning down to peer at the driver.  "The Skyplex on the corner of Madison and East Sixtieth Street," he said, then tapped on the top of the cab as he stepped back away from the curb.

The driver pulled into the line of traffic, inching along the street.  "Could you just let me off on the next block?" Jessa asked, needing out of the car, needing some space, some relative freedom, needing to breathe.

The driver nodded and pulled over.  He started to hand the extra cash over the seat, and she shook her head. "Keep it," she said as she stepped out and closed the door.

She wasn't far from Myrna's, anyway, and the sinking sun cast a golden sort of light over everything, and yet, no matter where she looked, which way she turned, she saw nothing at all—nothing but buildings and stone and concrete and asphalt . . .

It was cloying, wasn't it?  Funny, how she'd never noticed that before.  Maybe she was simply too lost in her own misery at that time, and nothing else had a chance to permeate the shell she'd created around herself . . .

But . . . But Ashur and Kells . . . They had, hadn't they?  She'd allowed them in, made herself vulnerable, and now . . .

She'd be lying, wouldn't she?  If she tried to tell herself that a part of her didn't regret that—the part of her that ached and hurt and felt as though nothing in the world mattered anymore.  Where would she go?  What would she see?  In the days, in the months, in the years and centuries to come, just what was there in the world that she could see, experience, that might come even a little closer to everything she'd left behind . . .?

And yet, the future was a frightening thing—so near and so far away, and nothing in sight but a huge, black void and the echo of a child's laughter, of baby kisses and chubby-armed hugs . . . Of nights and darkness filled with the whispers of a closeness that she hadn't known before, the solitude of two hearts that beat in perfect sympathy with each other . . . of memories that were never really meant to be hers, to start with . . .

She wandered along the street, down the sidewalks, that so many had walked before her, and how many of those people ever found true happiness, and of those lucky few who did, how many were wise enough to hang onto it with both hands . . .? Did they realize just how fortunate they were?  Did they understand the beauty of that precious thing they'd found?

But that part of her that so desperately wanted to go back, to return to that place that she knew, that she craved . . . It was growing stronger every single day, so much harder to ignore, so much thicker and more vindictive, tearing her wide open somewhere down deep—somewhere the naked eye couldn't see as the bits and pieces of her fell away, snippet by snippet, heartbeat by heartbeat . . . The part of her that was willing to go back, to beg, if need be . . . If he would just let her stay, would that be enough?  Even if he didn't love her—even if he'd never love her in return . . . Even if his heart already belonged to someone else—someone who wasn't her . . . and never would be . . .

Because maybe, just maybe, a lifetime of that would be better than nothing at all . . .