Just one, maybe two more minutes, and I'll be out of here, Meryl thought. Her fingers flew over the typewriter with the sort of learned precision that might not just be found with the average secretary, or claims writer, but with a grand pianist playing before a filled concert hall. Idly she imagined she might have liked that, had things gone a different path; sitting in front of hundreds, thousands of eager patrons, watching, waiting avidly for that first delicate note to come from her soft touch. Then, another, and then, another and another and soon the whole place would be filled with her graceful melody, swelling, expanding, growing... She could almost believe she was hearing the piano sing just then, and that she commanded its voice. Her back arched and she threw her head back in total rapture of her imagination, her eyes closed and her mouth moving wordlessly with the music. It was there, the grand finale; she surpassed her limit and reached, reached, almost touching it...
The typewriter's pinging suddenly rang through louder than ever; it had reached its limit and was desperately trying to catch Meryl's attention. Her eyes popped open. She straightened up and glanced around. No one was staring at the lunatic she had become temporarily; good. She looked at the paper, and sighed. She'd totally messed it up with her impromptu performance, so now she'd have to start all over again.
But first, she should stretch. For far too long now she had been stuck in that insufferably uncomfortable chair, glued to her monotonous typing, having to hear the same 'ping PING ping ping ping'... and what's worse, her coffee was now cold.
She stood, walked to the window, and gazed out at the street below. December's citizens usually flowed in a multi-colored human stream up and down, cars, buses, and folks on thomases sometimes passing amongst them. The afternoon nearing evening, though, meant that the crowd had thinned out more. The first sun still shone in full above the horizon, and the second hid half of itself beyond the border.
She noticed a odd pair walking down the street, or rather, one leading the other with the other trying not to be led. The person doing the dragging had strange pinkish hair and was of a slighter build than the blonde, tall man trailing along. Their clothes were stylish and "in," much unlike the plain, functional attire she and her friends normally wore. Finally the blonde had enough; he yanked his arm away and gestured that he did not like being lead around like an unruly puppy, and that it would most definitely stop right then and there. Pink-hair gestured as well, but more like a spoiled child used to having his way.
What is this? Meryl thought. The smaller kept moving and speaking, which must have agitated the other greatly because he suddenly gripped the speaker's shoulder and came closer. Whatever words, gentle or harsh, were spoken were oblivious to Meryl from her second story view, but pink-hair decided to effectively end things by kissing blondie.
Her eyes widened; should they be doing this sort of thing in public? The two separated, stood a moment staring at each other, then calmly walked away together as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Meryl returned to her desk sighing. If it was a lover's quarrel, shouldn't that have been done some place where no one would have to witness it?
A lover's quarrel...
She remembered pleading with Vash before he left her and Milly in Tonim Town to tell him why so many bad things kept happening around him, why good people like Wolfwood had to die... He told her wearing those yellow glasses of his, making it so that she could not look into his eyes as his words brought tears to hers. He walked out; she followed. She regretted it at one point, but later, though still sorrowful over Legato's death and the means with which he forced Vash's hand, she kept following him, watching over him as he lay bedridden for ten days, wondering if he'd wake. Later, after he made his recovery and vowed yet again to find his brother, she watched him stride off with the good priest's cross in tow. She wondered if that thing was cursed, if it would lead to Vash's death as it had to Wolfwood's.
She did not argue. She offered him a small smile, wished him luck, and waved him on his way. Again the tears came and split onto her cheeks, but Milly snapped her out of it with a firm pat on the back and reassurance that he would be back, and that she could finally tell him everything when he returned.
And he returned, but with his dangerous brother Knives in tow.
Aren't they both dangerous?
The three took care of him, and Knives recovered admirably, considering that he took five bullet wounds in such a short amount of time. Once he was awake, he wasted no time preaching about the evils of humanity and delivering cold, wordless sermons with his icy stares. Meryl persevered, and yet felt frustrated enough around him to want to throttle him, even if he could kill her without lifting a finger.
She wouldn't though, but not for that reason. The only reason she had for not going insane and violently attacking Knives was Vash.
Vash seemed so content being near his brother that it might have broken her heart into pieces had she dwelt upon it longer. He must have felt whole again, like his missing half had come back. She'd never seen him with so many smiles, but with less of the chatter. She smiled back shyly at him when he turned his attention toward her, not wanting to appear completely put off by Knives.
Then she and Milly had been called back to the office. Vash merely smiled and waved as they left, Knives at his side only to be polite to his brother.
Meryl didn't look back, but she wondered if perhaps he'd shed a tear or two at her departure.
She heard a knock at the door, so she stood and answered it; she'd been grateful for her promotion and the office she had received for her excellent work, and therefore took a bit of pride in having someone knock on her door instead of just standing in front of her desk suddenly.
"Telegram for you, Ms. Stryfe," said the kind-looking old man as he handed her a slip of paper. She smiled back at him and took it, thanking him then shutting the door. Who would be sending her such a thing?
It read:
Hi there! Knives and I have been traveling a while now, and since we're pretty close to December right now, we'd thought we'd stop by and visit you and Milly! Have lots of donuts prepared for us, okay? See you soon!
Once again, Meryl sighed. That idiot. At least he knew not to give his name, else
it'd have caused such an uproar that she would have heard by now. That idiot...
But you'll have another chance to tell him how you feel, won't you?
He'd been so happy with his brother around that she dared not interfere. Perhaps now that he was coming to her...
Yet another sigh escaped her. This time it was in exasperation over the fact that more quiet tears slid down her cheeks. That stupid Vash... For that, I'll tell him everything. Wiping them away, Meryl set the telegram down and began working on her report again; the sooner she was done with that, the sooner she could tell Milly, and begin arranging for batches of donuts to arrive at her place.