InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Metempsychosis ❯ Bitter Truths ( Chapter 71 )

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

The warmth of Ashur's lips broke through the pleasant slumber that lingered heavily around the edges of Jessa's mind as she rolled over with a contented sigh and slowly opened her eyes.  "Morning," she murmured, eyes drifting closed almost lazily, only to open once more, snuggling against the fluffy pillows.

He chuckled, fingertips tracing lightly over the high curves of her cheekbone, blue eyes taking on a hazy sort of brilliance, capturing the morning's light—the kind of golden sunshine of early morning that only came in the late summer and early autumn.

"Did you talk to Kells' teacher?"

Shaking his head, he let his hand fall away, but not before reaching over to retrieve her hairbrush off the nightstand as she sat up and turned around.  "You have a one-track mind, Jessa," he complained, gathering the mass of her hair together to drag the brush through it.  "To answer your questions, I did.  She said she hasn't noticed anything going on with the children—nothing out of the ordinary, anyway."

She snorted indelicately, slouching forward, arms around her raised knees.  "There's something going on.  Don't worry.  I'll talk to her when I go pick him up."

"You're going to pick him up?"

She nodded.  "Yes.  Maybe I'll get better answers out of her than you did, and—"

Uttering a terse grunt, Ashur worked at a small tangle.  "Linda said that everything is fine—"

"Linda?  Who's Linda?"

Ashur dropped the brush beside him and tugged Jessa back against his chest.  "She's Kells' teacher."

"You call her by her given name?"

"She kind of insisted."

Jessa grunted and pulled away from him.  "Oh, did she now?  And ye jis t’ought ye'd go along wi’ it?"

He blinked at the sudden spike in her youki, quickly shook his head.  "She was pretty adamant."

She narrowed her gaze.  "And I'm pretty adamant that ye dinna do it, ye ken?"

"Jessa . . ."

"And jus’ what, pray tell, does she call ye?"

He looked like he was thinking about his answer to that question, and more precisely, whether or not it was about to get him into more trouble . . .

"Does she call ye by your Christian name?"

"W . . . Well, when she said to call her, 'Linda', it only seemed right to—"

"And if she wants to see yer willy?  Ye'll drop yer drawers to be p'lite?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Jessa!  I have no interest in—"

She leaned away, crossing her arms over her chest stubbornly.

He sighed.  "Jessa, I swear on all that is holy, I have no intention of showing Lyn—Miss Tanner—my . . . my willy . . ." He snorted.  "My penis—and—"

"Hrmph.  Bet the ault slag be strippin' ye bare in her mind e'ry time she sees ye . . ."

He rolled his eyes.  "Now you're being ridiculous," he countered gently.  "If it bothers you that much, I will never call her by her first name again."

"Which doesna do a whit of good when she's out there, callin' ye, 'Ashur' . . . prolly fantasizin' about yer willy and becomin' Mrs. Ashur Philips in the process . . ."

Heaving a sigh, he opened his mouth to try to placate her once more, only to snap it shut, and he leaned back, trying not to grin like an idiot instead, which only made her hackles rise just a little bit more.  "Jessa?"

"What?"

He nodded slowly.  "Are you jealous?"

"Wh—? I-I-I—Are ye daft?" she blasted, her aura, fairly crackling with sparks of flame.

"You know damn well that you don’t have any reason to be, though—" he assured her a little too reasonably.

"Good, a’cause I'm most ceartinly no’—"

"—Because I'd be a fool to be interested in someone like her when I already have someone like you."

Scooting off the bed, she stomped over retrieve a pair of cute, white lace panties and matching bra, and then over to the closet, tugging on the first dress she laid hands on—a very pretty blue sundress.  Then she grabbed a white button-down sweater for good measure.

He sighed.  "What are you doing?" he drawled.

She shot him a cursory glance before hurrying back over to retrieve her hair brush.  He caught her hand when she reached for it and pulled her down on the bed again.  "It's nowhere near time to go pick up Kells," he pointed out when she tried to resist him.  "You're not going there to tell off his teacher just for calling me by my first name."

"Thinking about it," she muttered, wondering just how hard it would be to sidetrack him long enough for her to slip out the door unnoticed.

"The only one who gets to see me naked is you, Amaterasu—well, you and, apparently, Carol . . ." Ashur assured her.

Jessa snorted, tugging away so that she could get up once more and pull her hair up into a quick and rather messy bun that she secured with pearl-inlaid bobby pins—another gift from Ashur, who seemed to be convinced that if he bought her enough pretty hair accessories, she might start liking her ridiculously wild mane.

He sighed and flipped his legs off the side of the bed, only to stop when his cell phone rang.

She could only see his back in the mirror, but he grabbed the phone off the nightstand and stared at it for a long moment before connecting the call.  "Ashur Philips . . . Ms. Thomas, hello . . . Kells what . . .?"

Whipping around on her heel, eyes flaring wide at the mention of the child, she hurried over to stand before him, holding out her hand for the phone and narrowing her eyes when he flicked a hand to hold her off.  "Did he tell you why . . .?  I see . . . No, it's not a problem.  I'll be there shortly."

Standing up, he stuffed the device into his pocket and headed for the door.

Jessa ran after him.  "Ashur? What's the matter?  What happened?"

He didn't pause as he strode down the hallway and stairs.  "He was fighting," he replied, sitting on the bench to pull on his shoes as Jessa quickly donned a pair of taupe suede booties—they were the closest pair that she didn't have to go look for.

"Fighting?  Why?"

Ashur sighed and stood, grabbing his keys off the stand near the door.  "He wouldn't say."  He rubbed his forehead, squeezed his eyes closed for a moment.  "I'll go get him.  Why don't you just stay here?"

"I'm coming," she insisted, pinning him with a fierce glare, and her next words were punctuated by an index finger poke in the center of his chest with every syllable.  "And if you say I'm just his nanny, I swear to God, I'll make you rue the day you were born."

He stared at her for a moment, but finally nodded curtly as he grabbed her hand and hurried her toward the door.  "All right, Jessa.  Let's go."


"Mr. Philips, Ms. O'Shea . . . I'm so sorry that I had to call you about such a thing," Ms. Thomas said as she escorted the two into her office.  Kells is currently over in Dr. Landis' office.  I thought it'd be best so that we could talk about things before we bring him in here . . ."

"Has he said anything about what happened?" Ashur demanded.

"He hasn't, although it's not entirely surprising.  Children tend to hold their silence since they don't want to be viewed as a baby or whatnot."  She grimaced, carefully pouring mugs of tea from a lovely china carafe.  "I was wondering if there was anything going on at home that might help to explain this outburst?"

"Nothing bad," Ashur replied.  "What, exactly, did happen?"

Ms. Thomas managed a pinched and thin little smile as she handed Jessa a cup and then offered one to Ashur.  "Miss Tanner will be in here shortly.  Right now, she's in the nurses' station, talking to two of the three boy's parents.  She can explain it better, but what she told me was that she was a few minutes late in getting outside since she had to attend to one of the children who was having some trouble in the bathroom, and by the time she got out there, she found Kells, standing over the two boys in question while the third little boy stood with his hands up, apparently surrendering.  He had run over to try to stop the fight, and Kells wouldn't say what was going on, but the other two said that Kells attacked them because he was mad that they wouldn't play with him . . ."

Jessa sat the cup and saucer down with a rather loud clatter.  "Kells is not a violent child, and I think that accepting the word of those lads is being rather unfair."

"Ms. O'Shea, with all due respect, the boys' stories match."

"And did they match alone or were they questioned together?"

Ms. Thomas smiled tightly.  "I understand that you want to take Kells' side in this.  That's entirely natural, given the situation, but—"

"I'm no' taking sides," she insisted, sitting up a little straighter as she leveled a very no-nonsense look at the school director.  "I'm askin' ye how ye can make that assumption when Kells hasna said a thing—yer words, Ms. Thomas, no' mine.  Were there any other children about?"

"No, they were over by the dumpsters, which is off limits, but since their teacher wasn't out there with them—"

"And if these lads are in cahoots?  Of course, they're going ta give ye the same spiel, don' ye ken?"  She sighed, very obviously trying to control her rising irritation.  "May we speak with Kells, please?"

Ms. Thomas nodded as she got to her feet.  "I'll just ask Mrs. Landis to bring him in . . ."

"Alone."

The director stopped and turned to face them once more, a calculating expression on her face , brown eyes a little tight around the corners, her smile taking on a rather pinched sort of hardness.  "I'll bring him in here," she finally said.

Jessa waited until the door closed behind her to turn to Ashur.  "He's not the kind of child who would attack someone without a reason," she told him.

Ashur nodded.  "I agree."

"And I'll no’ sit by while he's blamed for something if he dinna do anythin’ wrong," she went on.

"I agree."

"It's like they're ready to pin the entire blame on him when it may not be his fault, at all, and I won't have it!" she huffed.

"Me, either."

She frowned at him, narrowing her eyes at the hint of misplaced amusement, evident in his face.  "This is serious, Ashur!"

"I agree," he said, lips twitching.

"Then what's so bloody amusing?"

He sighed and shrugged.  "You are.  I think you're more upset about this than I am."

"You should be more upset," she grumbled.  "I dinna see why ye aren't."

He didn't get to answer, though, when the door opened again, and Kells shuffled into the room, stopping just inside the door, chin ducked, digging the toe of his shoe against the highly polished floor.

"Come here, Kells," Ashur said, sounding stern, but not angry.

Kells shook his head.

Ashur sighed.  "I just want to know what happened; that's all.  If it wasn't your fault, then you're not going to be punished—not by me, anyway."

He stood still for another moment.  Suddenly, though, he uttered a sharp sob, and he ran, but not to Ashur.  No, he ran straight to Jessa, who scooped him up and cuddled him close, murmuring soft little things into his ear as he cried.  "Oh, now, Kells . . . It's all right," she told him, rocking him like a baby, smoothing his hair out of his face.  "It can't be that bad, can it?  You can tell us what happened . . ."

He shook his head, burying his face against her shoulder, her chest, tiny body racked by sobs, and Ashur sighed.  "Kells, we can't help you unless you tell us what's wrong," he said, careful to keep his tone gentle.

"I w-w-wanna go home," Kells whimpered, voice muffled, refusing to look at his father.  "I don't wike sch-school . . ."

"Okay," Ashur relented, taking Kells from Jessa and settling the boy on his lap.  "Okay, we'll take you home, but you really have to tell me what happened first."

Kells sniffled, wiping his eyes with balled-up fists.  "They . . . They said you were bad, Daddy," he muttered.  "They said . . . They said you're not my daddy . . ."

"They said what?" Jessa growled.

Ashur touched her arm to still her.  "They said that to you."

Kells nodded miserably.  "An' they said . . . they said I don't gots a mommy 'cause . . . 'cause . . ." Those bright blue eyes filled with tears once more, and Ashur grimaced as he cuddled Kells against his shoulder, casting Jessa a grimace as he slowly shook his head.

Jessa, however, had apparently heard enough, and she shot to her feet and over to the door, and the sound of it slamming, echoed in the quiet.

She didn't bother looking for Ms. Thomas.  The sign over the door of the nurses' station was clear enough, and she stomped down the hallway, sticking out her hand as she neared the doors, her flames shooting out to blast them open, ignoring the surprised little shrieks and hollers at her unannounced arrival.  "You two," she said, pinning the little boys, about Kells' age, with a glower as they cowered against their parents' legs.  "What gives you little beasts the right to say anything—anything—at all to Kells about something that neither of you know a damn thing about?" she demanded.  The boys, of course, said nothing, and Jessa turned her ire on the parents—one mother and a mother and father, respectively.  "Kells was protecting himself from your darlin' little angels—little monsters who have pestered and tormented and teased him about his parents—which, might I add, is of no concern to any of you, now is it?"

"Ms. O'Shea," Ms. Thomas said, grasping Jessa's shoulders.

Jessa shook her off.  "Children hear everything you say—everything—and what gives you the right to say a thing about a situation that not one of you has any real knowledge of?"

"Uh, we—uh . . ." The man blustered, very obviously unnerved by the entire confrontation.

"It's none of your business," Jessa insisted again, pinning each of them with a fulminating glower before turning her glare back on the boys once more.  "Now, you will tell Ms. Thomas exactly what you said and did to Kells, and you will not try to bully him, ever again, or I will be back because I'll find out . . . and you don't want me to come back, lads.  You don't ever want me to come back, now do you?"

The boys shook their heads.  Satisfied that she'd made her point, she turned on her heel and narrowed her eyes at Ms. Thomas.  "As for Kells, we're taking him home, and he's never coming back here again.  The next time you decide to place the blame on a child when you haven't even bothered to get his side of it?  Well, I suppose there shouldn't be a next time, now should there?"  She started to walk away, and then thought better of it as she slowly pivoted on her heel once more and stared at the director.  "I should think that Gin Zelig might be well disappointed in your school when she hears of this.  After all, it was her recommendation that got Kells admitted here so quickly, wasn't it?"  She clucked her tongue.  "Damn shame . . ."

And then, she stomped away.


"C'mon, laddie.   Hop up here, and I'll read your story."

Kells scrambled onto the bed, yanking up the small duvet as he ferreted against Jessa's side, staring up at her with wide, shining eyes.  He wasn't smiling, but he didn't have to.  His youki was far more peaceful than it had been in the last week, all because Jessa had told him that they were going home and that he'd never have to go to that school again.  "Jessa?"

"Yes?  What story do you want?'

"I don't want a story," Kells said.

Jessa blinked and frowned as she ruffled his hair and hugged him close.  "You don't?  But you love story time . . ."

Kells frowned, too.  "Can I tell you want I want?"

"Okay," she said.  "You can tell me anything, Kells."

Kells sighed.  "I want my fire back—the fire you gave me."

Ashur, who was leaning in the doorway, nodded, levering himself away from the frame and hurrying away.

"Jessa?"

"Hmm?"

"Why don't I have a mommy?"

His question made her flinch, and she pulled him a little tighter against her side.  "I . . . I don't know, Kells," she admitted.  "But . . . But I do know that anyone—anyone—would be . . . so happy to be your mommy . . ."

He thought that over for a moment before letting his head fall back so that he could gaze up at her.  "Would you be happy to be my mommy?"

For some reason, the rush of tears that filled her eyes was immediate and intense, and she sniffled.  "I'd . . . I'd love to be your mommy, Kells," she choked out.

Kells suddenly laughed, throwing his arms around her.

"Here you go," Ashur said, striding into the room with the necklace that he'd taken from the boy when he'd tried to break it before.  "But you have to promise that you won't break this unless . . . unless you're dying."

"Daddy!" Kells exclaimed, hopping to his feet so that his father could slip the necklace over his head.  "Daddy, Jessa says she loves to be my mommy!  Does that mean I can call her mommy now 'cause she won't get freaky?"

"Uh . . ." Ashur's mouth dropped open as Jessa's eyebrows rose in unvoiced question.  "Well . . . I guess that's up to her."

Dropping to his knees, he bounced and managed to turn around in one solid motion.  "Can I?"

Jessa laughed and grabbed Kells into a tight cuddle-hold.  "You can call me whatever you like, Kells," she told him, kissing his cheek for good measure.  "I . . . I would . . . I would love to be your ma . . ."

Kells giggled, letting her hold him on her lap.  "Now I gots a mommy for real!" he exclaimed.

Jessa laughed despite the fat tears that stood in her eyes.

Ashur sat down on the other side of the tiny bed and leaned in to slip his arms around them both.  "You sure you're okay with this?" he asked over Kells' head.

Jessa choked out a sound that was caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob.  "I'm more than okay with it," she whispered, still mussing Kells' hair as the boy held onto the fire pendant with one hand and snuggled down between them with the happiest smile on his face as his eyes drifted closed.