He was having that dream again. That same reoccurring dream that haunted him night after night, chose to plague him once more. The screams were more profound this time; the colors more vibrant. He relived those events every night, so why wasn't he used to it by now?
He was allowed a moment to catch his breath after waking, before he heard the man in the cell next to his stir.
"Vash," The man in question didn't turn to look at his friend. He knew what he was going to say. He needed to control his breathing, so he would be ready to answer. Slowly, inhale. Exhale.
"You were screaming again. Are you okay?"
There was a pause, as the concerned voice trailed off, waiting for a reply.
"Fine, Wolfwood," Vash finally managed, his voice not wavering. "Go back to sleep."
He heard his friend sigh, knowing he didn't plan on sleeping anymore. He wouldn't sleep because Vash wouldn't sleep. The light next to Wolfwood's bed flickered to life and Vash listened as the rusty springs in the bed croaked under the priest's weight.
"Well," Wolfwood began, reaching under his mattress for the small pack of cigarettes he kept hidden. It was a nasty habit, but one he was unwilling to break. If he was on death row, why care about something so far off as cancer? "I know you don't like to talk about your dreams with anyone other than her, but I'll play the noble friend and ask anyway. Wanna talk about it?"
Vash stared up at the cement ceiling. No, it wasn't cement. The cement was there to create an illusion. Above it was ten inches of impenetrable titanium. How did he know? He was the reason it was there.
"I'm fine," Vash answered quietly. He broke his trance, his eyes tearing from the ceiling as he forced himself to sit up. He inhaled deeply, the scent of the old cigarettes burning his throat, but he welcomed the pain. It was a small distraction from the agony he was weighed so heavily with.
"When will you have another session with the witch?" Though his tone was joking, Vash still sent his friend a glare. Wolfwood didn't understand why Vash was so defensive when it came to his doctor. Maybe it was because she was the only one that had really seemed to care what he thought? She listened to him.
Wolfwood flicked the ash off his cancer stick, before rolling his eyes. "She's not your friend, Vash, she's your doctor. Not to mention, she's the worst kind of doctor too. A shrink."
Vash stood up, walking to the small sink in the corner of his cage to wash his face. He knew Wolfwood didn't like Meryl, but the reason why was because she didn't like him. It was childish really, the way they shot insults back and forth at each other each time she came for one of his sessions. Vash knew the truth though. Meryl had confessed to not liking his smoking, not Wolfwood personally.
"You shouldn't talk about her like that."
Wolfwood sighed and an uneasy silence passed between them.
"She comes tomorrow morning, after breakfast."
Wolfwood nodded, leaning his head back against the wall as he took another drag from his cigarette. While Wolfwood didn't care for the doctor, he knew she had been more help to Vash than he had ever been. Vash talked to her about things he didn't talk about with anyone else. He also knew that Vash needed that time with her. The priest had a sneaking suspicion that their lovely doctor needed her time with Vash as well.
"Perfect timing then, yeah? They've been bad this week."
Vash shrugged. They all held the same intensity to him. When he wasn't dreaming, he was thinking. Sometimes, his thoughts were worse than the dream world his subconscious created.
"Well, it's three in the morning and we've got some time before breakfast," the priest said jokingly, his teeth flashing white under the dim, yellow light. "How about a round of gin?"
Vash glanced over his shoulder, seeing his old friend waving a deck of cards. He smirked.
"You're on."
Breakfast would consist of half of a cream cheese bagel and a vinti cup of Starbucks 'best double shot espresso coffee. It was the perfect way to start any day, but perfection had a price. Today that price was eight fifty nine.
Sighing, Meryl reached into her purse and handed over her debit card to the smiling cashier. The young female doctor watched with envy as the cashier swiped her card while giggling at something the teenage boy beside her said. How could anyone flirt at such a God-awful hour?
Meryl allowed her eyes to wander as she waited for her card to process, but they didn't make it far. Gray eyes quickly stopped, hovering over something behind the glass of the display window.
"Miss?" Meryl blinked, her attention directed back to the petite woman behind the counter. The grin that split the doctor's lips would have put the Cheshire cat to shame.
"Those," she replied, motioning to the display window. "I want four."
Four of the requested item was placed in a white paper doggy bag and Meryl's card was swiped again before she headed out the door. It was cold today, but cold was something Meryl could handle. Snow on the other hand was a matter entirely different.
It was half past nine already. She was running late. Should she call ahead?
"Oh, stop wasting time, Meryl and get a move on!" She told herself. Nodding, the doctor made for her red jaguar that was parked not far from the café. She quickly found her key ring, and mashed the unlock button. Silver lights flickered, calling it's owner closer with a seductive gleam. A sigh of appreciation past her lips as she slowly ran her hand over the smooth body of the car. This was her pride and joy.
Breaking her trance, Meryl pulled open the door and strapped herself in the vehicle. Adjusting her mirror, she made a mental note not to allow any more distractions to interfere with her getting to work.
It was a twenty minute drive off shore to the high security prison, but Meryl had made the trip once a week for the past year. An exact year to this day.
One full year. Twelve months. Three hundred sixty-five days. Fifty-two weeks. 525,600 minutes.
That was how long she had known him.
How long had it taken her to fall in love with him?
The holding facility was a massive building, with high cement walls, preventing anyone from seeing over them. It was mainly there to keep criminals locked inside, but Meryl knew it was also in place to keep the media out. They were anything, but kind to their prisoners.
Four watch towers rose proudly from the corners of the walls surrounding the prison, each holding two snipers with QBU-88 [Type 88] sniper rifles. They rotated every six hours. The switch took exactly six minutes.
Meryl let her eyes drop from the towers, and let her eyes fix on the officer approaching her car. She flashed her identification badge and waited as he signaled for the gate to open. Her car was only allowed within a certain distance of the facility, so she was soon stopped and asked to get out.
She calmly gathered her briefcase, which contained the majority of her patient's files , and the doggy bag. She was asked to remove all metal, and then frisked by Jen, a female officer who had come to know her well.
"Working, again?" Jen asked, checking the pockets of Meryl's jeans. The doctor smirked.
"What do you mean? This is a pleasure trip."
"I see," Jen mused, patting down her legs. "Mixing business with pleasure? And I thought higher of you, Meryl."
The doctor scoffed, her hands going to her hips as Jen stood and motioned for another officer to escort her out. "I never mix business with pleasure," Meryl defended, but she knew the blue suit was only teasing.
"See yah on the way out, Doc," Jen called, and Meryl waved over her shoulder to the female officer.
The walk to the review room was easy, anticipated and Meryl never had trouble making the trip. It was after her session with her patient that she found difficult.
The officer, with a cool expression, opened the door to the review room. The walls were painted a pasty white. White was a safe color. Neutral to the mind. To Meryl, it was empty.
She sat down in the chair at the table in the middle of the room. The door was shut and Meryl didn't even glance up. She knew that the next time it opened, she'd have a reason to look.
Reaching into her briefcase, she pulled out the faded yellow file. It was thick, but worn. This was his file. She had spent many sleepless nights looking through it, shuffling through old pictures and shifting through charts. It didn't matter how long she spent looking at them, the information never added up.
Just who was this man she had spent the past year speaking to?
He had no records prior to the crime he was charged with. To the government he didn't even exist! There was no social security number, dental records, finger prints, or family members that would give some indication to who he was.
He was listed as unknown.
The titanium door was unlocked and Meryl stood, her hands twisting nervously in front of her as she waited for it to be pushed open. Biting her lower lip, Meryl fixed her eyes on the white door, holding her breath when it drifted open.
He stood in the door frame, his lean, muscular body clothed in a white wife beater and orange jumper. His hands were cuffed in front of him and two long chains ran to the cuffs on his ankles too. She hated seeing him in chains, but he was in a high security prison. In fact, he was on maximum security watch.
Gray eyes sparkled with delight as they met piercing blue eyes.
Not just blue, but Caribbean blue. His eyes were blue like the Caribbean on a hot summer day. Warm, glittering, and…inviting.
She opened her mouth to voice his name, but he beat her to it, instead calling her own instead. Her heart jumped in her chest and then hammered heavily against her breast bone as she waited for him to continue.
"Meryl," he said smoothly, his lips savoring the taste of her name as if it were a delicate gourmet dessert.
"Yes, Vash?" Her voice was breathy, but she couldn't help it when his eyes swept up and down her body, searching for something. Her fingers twitched nervously awaiting his words.
"Meryl, you're late."