Chapter 3
Starting Over
The incessant buzz of the alarm clock rattled Toga out of a dreamless slumber. With a frustrated growl, he swung his arm at the offending electronic, knocking it across the room with a satisfying thud as it hit the wall and clattered to the floor.
Yawning wide as he sat up, scratching his chest in the shallow vale over his heart, he opened his groggy eyes and blinked. 'Damn . . . another one bites the dust,' he thought with a grimace as he stumbled toward the bathroom, kicking the remnants of the clock out of the way.
He'd never been a morning person. Even as a pup he'd been inconsolable when roused before he was ready. His mother loved to tell the stories about Toga's famous temper. He grimaced as he turned on the shower taps and stepped into the tub.
He sighed. True enough, he had more than enough money in his bank accounts to live off of indefinitely. Trouble was, he refused to use it, if he didn't have to. He was also sure that his father---meddler that he was---was probably having each and every one of those accounts monitored for activity. It wasn't difficult to find a job, anyway. If nothing else, he had gained more than enough experience to find employment readily enough. If only he didn't have to get up at the blessed crack of dawn . . .
Three blissful months free of the constraints of his overbearing father. Toga smiled vaguely as he reached for the bar of Ivory soap. As close to unscented as he could find in the States, the smell still bothered him though not nearly as badly as it could have.
Finding a job hadn't taken much effort, either. Opting not to stay in New York City, Toga had moved on to Chicago. He didn't have a doubt in his mind that Sesshoumaru was trying to find him. Toga made a face. He was the precious heir, wasn't he? It would have been wishful thinking to believe that his father would just let him alone.
Against his better judgment, he had called Kagome last night. Having never really been so far away from real family for so long without contact, Toga had found himself a little melancholy, and he missed his aunt and uncle more than he cared to admit.
"Toga? Oh, kami! Toga, where in heaven's name are you?" Kagome demanded when she answered the phone.
He could see her, in his mind, standing in the kitchen with the phone gripped so tightly that her fingers turned white. "I can't tell you where I am, but I'm fine. I just wanted to call and see if everyone was all right."
Toga heard his uncle's voice in the background. "Give me the phone, wench." Toga smiled.
"Back off, dog-boy!" Kagome said, her voice muffled as she obviously covered the receiver to growl at her mate. "Toga, Kagura is worried sick over you, and Aiko---"
"Has Father promised to stop screwing around in my life?"
"Umm . . ."
"I didn't think so."
Kagome sighed. "I wish you'd come home and just talk to him. Sesshoumaru's been so quiet, and---"
"I'm finished talking to him when he refuses to listen." Toga rubbed a tired hand over his face. "Tell Mother that I'm sorry, and that I'm fine, and tell Aiko I wish her the best for her wedding. I've got to go. Don't be too tough on Uncle Yasha."
"All right, Toga. I love you."
"You, too."
Toga sighed, shaking himself out of his reverie as he rinsed the rest of the soap off his body. No, Sesshoumaru had meddled for the very last time. This time, Toga wasn't going to roll over and play dead . . .
Making quick work of the rest of his shower, Toga finished dressing and left the small apartment, heading for the parking garage as he dug his keys out of his pocket. With a sigh, he shook his head slowly. Hating the stench of the city, loathing the constraints of this place, he brushed aside his dislike and steeled himself for another day of the same thing.
--0--0--0--0--0--
Toga turned onto the quiet street on the outskirts of Chicago. Glancing at the open laptop computer beside him to double check the address, he reached over to tilt the screen so he could better read the text. ' Midwest Financial, North Ridge Avenue. . .'
Fumbling around for his glasses, Toga wasn't paying nearly as much attention as he should have been. A huge thump rocked the Jeep Cherokee, and he slammed on his brakes with a wince and a muttered curse as he pulled over and stumbled out of the driver side door in time to hear the female screech.
"Oh, my God! My dog! You hit my dog!"
Toga grimaced as he knelt down to pull the dog's body out from under his vehicle. The distraught girl shoved him back as she gently lifted the large animal's head. From where he was, Toga could tell it was dead. "I'm sorry," he said, wincing at the lame sound of his own voice.
Peridot green eyes stared incredulously at him, as though she couldn't believe he'd had the absolute nerve to apologize to her. Cheeks reddening with indignant anger to match the dusty rose of her full lips, Toga blinked and retreated a step. "Why don't you watch where you're going? Where'd you get your license? Out of a Cracker Jack box? You idiot! You killed my dog!"
Jamming his glasses up his nose, Toga took off his jacket and gently wrapped the animal in it. Upset over the taking of a life warred with the confusion at the desire to appease this unknown girl. "Can I take him somewhere? I'm sorry . . ."
His actions seemed to give her pause, and the girl sat back, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand as she blinked in amazement and finally turned to look at Toga. "Oh, your jacket," she said quietly, the anger suddenly draining from her voice as she stared mournfully at her beloved dog, wrapped in the tailored suit jacket. "It's ruined . . ."
"Don't worry about it," Toga muttered. Those creamy light green eyes flicked over his face again, more curious than wary, longest brown eyelashes fluttering over her cheeks as she blinked at him in surprise. Unaccountably flustered by her simple expression, Toga forced his gaze away as he fought down the rising flush. "I'm really sorry."
"What were you doing?" she asked, her tone pleading, as though she were trying to make sense of the accident. "You couldn't see him? He's huge! How could you not have seen him?"
Toga reddened as he easily lifted the dog's weight. The Great Dane was a huge dog. Toga held him like he weighed nothing at all. "I was checking an address . . . Can I take you somewhere? I don't want to leave him here."
She sighed, running her slender fingers through her long hair. Blonde with just a hint of red in the otherwise golden curls, Toga noticed with a vague grimace that she smelled like apple blossoms. Dressed in faded blue jeans and a short sleeved tee shirt that hugged her curves a little too well, the girl was a mystery to him. Standing beside him, she barely reached his shoulders, so why could this tiny slip of a human girl intimidate him? And why did she captivate him?
Tears gathered in those incredible eyes of hers, and Toga flinched. "My car's in the shop," she explained as she furiously wiped her cheeks again. "If I call, they'll just take him and . . ." Trailing off as though the idea of what 'they' would do with the dog's corpse was unbearable, the girl shook her head miserably and blinked back a few more tears. "My mom has a farm where I could bury him, but . . ."
Nearly whining at the smell of her tears, Toga sighed. "I'll take you," he offered.
Sniffling as she blinked, staring at him as though she couldn't believe her ears, she shook her head slowly. "I couldn't . . . I don't know you, and---"
"And I hit your dog," he finished quietly. "Please."
"All right," she finally agreed, staring him up and down as though she were trying to size him up. "But I warn you, I have a cell phone, and I have pepper spray . . . and I'll knee you where it hurts if you try anything." She relented as she opened the back door of his SUV so that he could put the dog inside. "And I guess you can't be all bad. You gave up your Armani jacket for Dennis."
"Dennis?"
She sighed as he closed the door. "My dog."
Toga winced yet again. "You have no idea how sorry I am."
She nodded as he followed her around to the passenger side and let him open the door. Snapping the laptop closed and clearing off the seat, he headed around the vehicle and climbed back inside. The girl was already on her cell phone, he supposed, telling her mother that she was on her way.
"My name's Toga," he offered when she clicked her phone closed. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he cringed inwardly when she pulled out the aforementioned pepper spray.
"Turn up here and take it straight out," she informed him. "I'm Sierra." He could feel her gaze on him again and he concentrated on not hitting anything else as he gripped the steering wheel tightly in his hands. "You're not from around here, are you? You've got a little bit of an accent . . ."
"Uh, no . . . I just moved here a few months ago."
"Where are you from, Toga?"
Deliberately ignoring the ease with which she said his name, the sudden tumbling sensation in his stomach as his name rolled off her tongue, Toga kept his eyes on the road. "The last place I was? Berlin."
"You don't sound German," she mused, "and you don't look German, either."
"Isn't everyone in America from somewhere else?"
She sighed. "I suppose." Staring out the car window with the can of pepper spray still clenched firmly in her fist, Sierra shook her head. The smell of her hair spiked with the movement. Toga tried to block it out. "It's very decent of you, to do this."
"Yeah, well, it was the least I could do. Where I come from, you don't go around killing your own kind."
"Your own kind?" she echoed with a raised eyebrow.
Toga winced inwardly. "Sure . . . don't you women all think men are dogs?" he joked, hoping that his cover-up worked.
"Maybe not all men," she allowed with a small smile. "Would you mind if I . . . ?" she asked, gesturing at the radio console.
"Oh, no . . . go ahead," he told her as he prayed that she wasn't into loud music. As badly as his nerves were already strained, being surrounded by too much noise just might send him teetering off the brink.
Luck was on his side this time. Flicking through the channels until she found one that played soft classical music, Toga couldn't help but sigh in relief as she lowered the speakers to just a gentle hum before settling back in her seat again. "Is this okay?"
"Yeah, fine."
"So you just moved here?"
"A few months ago," he answered, relaxing just enough that he wasn't a complete bundle of nerves. Why was it that every single nerve in his body seemed to be listening to her? He shook his head. Stupid thought, that.
"Me, too . . . I mean, into the city . . . Better jobs than on the farm. Better hours, too, come to think of it . . ."
"I'm not much of a morning person, myself," he admitted.
"Turn here," she instructed. Toga did. "Can I ask what you do for a living?"
Toga shot her a quick glance, an apologetic smile. "I broker corporate mergers."
She blinked in surprise. "Really? I guess that would explain your Armani . . . You just don't look like a business shark."
"Why's that?"
"Your hair . . . your smile . . . You don't look old enough to be in that line of work . . . and you're running me out to the country to bury my dog."
Cheeks heating at her appraisal, Toga cleared his throat and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "What do you do?"
She smiled. Her eyes twinkled when she did, he noticed before shifting his gaze back to the road. "Well, right now I work in the press room at the Tribune. One day, though, I hope to have my own byline."
"Cover anything good lately?"
She shrugged. "At the moment, we're doing a story on Sesshoumaru Inutaisho. You ever heard of him? He owns Inutaisho Industries International. I'm so jealous. The girl who's going to Japan as the assistant to the reporter on the story was hired in just before me . . ."
Toga didn't answer. Eyes locked on the road, carefully schooling his features blank, the very mention of his father was enough to set his teeth to grinding.
"That's it, up there," Sierra said as she leaned forward and pointed to a large farmhouse on the right. He pulled into the driveway and killed the engine before getting out and carefully retrieving the animal from the back seat.
She sighed as she led the way to the back of the sprawling yard. Her mother was already at the back of the property with a shovel. A small, frail woman doing a man's task . . . Toga hurriedly lay the dog down and gently took the shovel.
"Mom, this is Toga."
"The dog murderer?" Sierra's mother commented as she let Toga take over with the manual labor.
Toga flinched. "I'm really, really sorry," he assured them both.
"Mom, he didn't mean it."
"How could you not see that tank of a dog?" Sierra's mother persisted.
"I was, uh, double checking an address . . . and trying to find my glasses."
Sierra's mother sighed then chuckled. "City boy, do you know how to use that shovel?"
Toga could feel himself flush again. He'd dug enough holes in his youth to argue that claim. Somehow, though, the idea of digging the hole with his bare hands didn't seem like such a good one, at the moment.
"Stay away from that one, Sierra," her mother warned her in a loud whisper. "He's got the look of a devil . . . the pretty ones always do."
"Mother!" Sierra hissed, hand hurriedly covering her mouth as Toga pretended not to have heard the exchange---difficult to do when his face was blazing . . .
--0--0--0--0--0--
'In the realm of ignorance, Toga . . . you are absolutely an idiot savant . . .'
Lying in his bed, staring at the darkened ceiling as lights from passing cars danced across the walls, Toga heaved another sigh and blinked as sleep eluded him.
It wasn't bad enough that he had inadvertently killed a dog. It wasn't bad enough that he felt so bad about it that he had offered to take Sierra to her mother's farm. It wasn't bad enough that Sierra worked for the freaking Chicago Tribune and obviously knew the Inutaisho name. It wasn't bad enough that the girl had managed to twist his mind and body in knots. Nope, oh, hell, no.
The worst of it? In classic stupid-Toga fashion, he hadn't even thought to ask her last name, her phone number . . . not a damn thing . . . just knew the building where she'd asked to be dropped off at 'a friend's' apartment . . .
'Forget her, Toga . . . she knows who your father is, remember? You don't want him to find you, do you?'
Of course the logical thing to do would be to put Sierra out of his head . . .
Too bad he couldn't seem to do that.
Her eyes . . . He'd never seen eyes like hers before. Jewel-like yet misty, secretive with an open, friendly smile, everything about her seemed like a paradox; the tiny woman with the nerve to stand her ground with him . . . He'd never seen hair the color of hers, either. Honey gold with touches of reddish highlights . . . what was it about her that spoke to him?
She was beautiful. She was mysterious. She was as earthy as she was ethereal . . .
And all he knew was that her first name was Sierra.
A/N:
Final Thought from Sierra:
… I can't believe you killed my dog …
Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Defiance): 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
