It was amazing, Meryl decided, on how very much alike bars on the planet looked. Atmosphere, decor and conversation all bled together to form one large stereotype of "bar". She supposed that the majority of patrons were less concerned with the way it looked and more concerned with consuming alcohol for owners to put much effort into it all. But honestly, would a fresh coat of paint really kill them?
She sighed, stirring her scotch and soda idly, thoughts swirling in her head as casually as the ice in her drink. It had been almost seven years since "The Events" (despite her eloquence, Meryl never really could find a good term to describe exactly what had happened with Vash, his brother, and the ships), and life had been stable. She had been surprised that as many people chose to stay here as they did; as a child, Meryl was often told of the day the ships would come and save them all. It seemed that ultimately, home was home, and now that the Earth ships were slowly helping the people of Gunsmoke transition to a less sentient form of power, things were getting better.
Except, apparently, for her. Meryl didn't often allow herself to fall into melodramatics, nor did she allow herself to languor in the doldrums for weeks on end. She was getting sentimental in her old age. It had been seven years since she had quit Bernardelli, six since she found employment in news media, four since Milly had married a man who most certainly did not look like Wolfwood, and three since Meryl and Vash had parted ways.
Three very long years.
The ice clinked in her glass as someone sat down beside her at the bar, but Meryl paid the newcomer no mind. If he was interested, Meryl would simply send him packing. She had no need for such nonsense now. Especially when she was feeling melancholy for loves long gone.
She sighed, trying to shake thoughts of the spiky-haired gunman from her mind. It was one of those strange things in life. Normally, she was over Vash. Normally, she was a bright, confident, capable woman in charge of her own destiny. Normally, however, she didn't run into men that emulated Vash in both fashion and hairstyle. It was understandably enough to put her in quite a bit of a funk; while she and Vash had parted as amicably as possible given the circumstances, Meryl had been tremendously hurt by the whole affair.
The man next to her rumbled out his order to the bartender. "Whiskey on the rocks." Something about his voice piqued at her memory, enough for her to leave her thoughts and focus on her location. She had heard that voice before. She just couldn't place it.
Meryl turned slightly to surreptitiously study her new bar neighbor. He had a wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his eyes, and a duster drawn up high. He practically screamed "inconspicuous". Of course, screaming in any way was a surefire bet to bring attention to oneself. She watched as he tilted his head back to practically inhale the drink the bartender placed in front of him. As he did so, she had a better view of his face. Curious black lines framed his visible eye, lines that spiderwebbed away in a very distinct pattern and vanished into a mop of grey hair.
Meryl took a large sip of her drink, and with the liquid courage burning in her stomach, she shifted over, her body facing him as she said, "Excuse me. Have we met before? You seem familiar to me." Meryl deliberately played her voice light and innocent, belying the fact that she remembered him quite well.
He had jerked in surprise when she spoke, looking almost panicked as he looked at her. Meryl wondered how hard his life must have been, to be jumping any time someone spoke to him. A wave of pity swept through her.
For his part, the man had stared at her for a few moments before recognition lit his eyes. "Hey… you're that girl that traveled with Vash," he said eloquently.
"And you're that man who chased after Mr. Wolfwood. Now that we have properly identified one another by the people we were with, perhaps we can actually hold a civil conversation?" Meryl replied archly. She had changed in a lot of ways over the years since she had first met Vash. For one, she was much better at controlling her temper.
He had the grace to look chagrined, and Meryl felt mollified. "Yeah, sorry. Uhm, what was your name again?" He reached up in what she could only assume was a nervous gesture and scratched the back of his head. It tilted the hat lower on his eyes, giving him a slightly comical look. Her lips quirked up in a small smile before she answered.
"I'm Meryl," she said simply. "And you?" She wondered if he would give her an alias. If he did, she'd call him on it when they weren't surrounded by listening ears. People generally had good reasons to use aliases.
"Livio," said he as he reflexively held out his hand to shake. She took it, smiling as she did so.
"It is a pleasure to re-make your acquaintance, Mr. Livio." She trailed off after that, unsure of what to say next. He didn't seem to know, either; Livio looked as awkward as she felt. What had made her call out, anyway? Loneliness, melancholy, alcohol? Most likely a combination thereof. Stalling, she sipped at her drink again.
It was he who broke the tense silence. "So what has Vash been up to?" Of course he would ask that question. Meryl felt a bit slighted, hurt by the inevitable fact that people simply cared more about Vash than about her. Even while they were dating, people frequently approached her just to get to Vash. She swallowed her hurt, though, unwilling to let this very fearsome man take the brunt of a lifetime's insecurities.
"I honestly have no idea," she said shortly. Meryl felt tired, very tired, and sick to death of people constantly asking about Vash. She motioned for the bartender to bring her a second drink. Livio did the same as he looked at her in apparent confusion.
"Oh. But I thought that you and he…" Livio trailed off uncertainly.
"We were. But I grew tired of constantly being compared to and never living up to another's ghost," Meryl replied bluntly. Well, that was certainly more information than she usually gave. But she never really had talked about it with anyone. Milly had always guessed, eliminating the need to tell, and Meryl couldn't bring herself to trust others with her feelings. Still, sharing with someone made her feel slightly better, and she sighed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Livio. I don't mean to burden you with that."
"No, it's okay. Call me Livio. That 'mister' stuff makes me sound old." He seemed relieved that she had changed subjects. Did he think she was going to burst into tears or some other maudlin nonsense? Despite her melancholy, the thought amused her, and she smiled a bit. "So… what about your friend? The tall girl with the blonde hair?"
"Milly? Milly is happily married to a man with red hair and green eyes. She's expecting her third child, and she deserves every ounce of happiness she's had," Meryl replied warmly, thinking of her friend. They still got together whenever time permitted. Livio seemed to absorb the information thoughtfully, and Meryl decided to share her thoughts on Milly's chosen with him. "I think she did that on purpose, you know. Married him because he's not much like Mr. Wolfwood."
Livio made a noise in response, possibly one of assent. Meryl couldn't be sure, but she chose to interpret it that way. Was he thinking, as she was, on how much really had changed since The Events? Was he thinking of Mr. Wolfwood? Meryl hadn't thought about the priest in a while, and silently said a little prayer for him.
The two sat quietly together, each lost in his or her thoughts. Meryl could feel the alcohol burn through her system, warm and tingly. She would stop after this one; Meryl knew her own limits. Again, she turned to study Livio. Strange tattoo, prematurely silver hair, strong profile. He was a handsome man, she realized, surprised. He turned to her, perhaps feeling her scrutiny. Meryl chose not to look away, and a faint blush stained his cheeks. She got the sense that he didn't socialize much.
"So how have you occupied yourself since I've seen you last, Livio?" Meryl asked, feeling emboldened by the drink. "Have you gone back to the orphanage?" She watched him blink in surprise, and he turned away from her, frowning into his glass.
"Ah, no. I… I don't really think I'm fit to be around children." He sounded so very mournful; Meryl was ashamed to have brought it up.
"Livio," she began to apologize, but he cut her off with a wave of his hand.
"Don't worry about it, Miss Meryl. Really, don't." He paused, as if unsure what to say next. "What about you? Weren't you working for a news company, following Vash around the world?" Meryl noticed that he turned the conversation away from himself, but she had enough experience with socially and emotionally awkward men to press the issue.
"I was, yes. That was many years ago, though. I realized it wasn't the field I was best suited for. Once Vash and I… became closer, I quit. I didn't want to broadcast my relationship for everyone and their mother to see. But I liked journalism. Writing has always been my strong suit. Back when I worked for Bernardelli, I put a great deal of effort into my reports. So I decided that I'd do the same thing, only with print news. I've been writing for years for the December Times. Under a fake name, of course." Meryl felt a bit more comfortable now that they were on familiar territory, even if he had been only asking out of politeness.
"Of course," he replied. "Wait, why would you need a fake name?" He sounded genuinely curious, and Meryl smiled.
"Well, if I were writing under my real name, again, everyone and their mother would pester me about Vash. I want to write about things other than everyone's favorite gunman. It's actually why I'm here now," she said, lowering her voice conspiratorially. Livio leaned in closer to hear her better. She was fairly certain he didn't need to, but he was being responsive, and Meryl took what she could get. "I'm writing an expose on the conditions of female workers in the new power mills."
The people from Earth had brought technology that helped harness wind and capture sun to power Gunsmoke. There had been rumors of unfair treatment to the women who worked there, rumors of different pay and benefits, rumors of harrassment. The rumors had caught Meryl's interest, and the interest of her editor, and she had been sent to investigate.
"Really?" he asked, sounding as though he were interested despite himself. Meryl smiled, pleased by his interest. It wasn't often that she really got to share what she did with someone who cared.
"Yes. Why, did you want to come with me?" He looked a bit abashed, and Meryl was quick to soothe. "Actually, you're more than welcome to if you wish. Most people aren't really aware of how it actually works. The only reason I know something is because of Vash. He was pretty skeptical of the new mills at first, but I think they're a good way to replace Plants."
"I never took you to be an activist, Miss Meryl," Livio replied teasingly. Meryl laughed ruefully.
"If you had, I'd be worried that you were stalking me or something. We never really knew each other," she said. And it was true. Meeting a few occasions in a war between godlike brothers didn't really count as "getting to know one another". He looked confused, as if he didn't know how to respond to that, and Meryl gathered up her courage. "But maybe we can change that. For starters, you can drop the "miss" when you address me. It makes me feel old, too."
His mouth quirked upwards. "Fair enough," he said. He motioned the bartender to bring out another round before Meryl could say anything. The bartender apparently assumed that Livio had meant for the both of them, and Meryl found herself with a third drink. Livio might be able to knock them back as though alcohol was water, but Meryl certainly couldn't.
"Ah, I really shouldn't. I've already had my limit, so unless you want to carry me home, I'm going to pass. Thank you, though," Meryl remarked, sliding the drink away.
"Sorry," he replied. "I didn't really realize—"
"What do you have to be sorry about? I'm the lightweight, not you. It was a nice gesture, and I appreciate it, even if I can't accept at this time," Meryl said warmly. Really, if he had offered earlier in the evening, she would have drank it.
"In that case, then, can I have it?" he asked, beguiling as a child. Meryl couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. He was charming, in a reclusive kind of way.
"Since you seem to be drinking like it's going out of style, yes. I really am amazed at your tolerance. It seems like everyone I know can drink like a fish!" she commented, watching as he downed the first glass, followed by the second.
"Yeah… well…" he trailed off, suddenly looking somber. "I guess I'm just… special." Meryl hadn't meant to sober up the mood. It never failed with her: meet a man, become interested in said man, find out that she'd have to walk on eggshells around said man. Well, no more. She was tired of being delicate.
"Mmm, probably. You did help save the world, you know. That tends to only happen to special people," she retorted, the smile on her face taking any bite out of her words. He must have been surprised by her response, for he blinked at her for a moment before his face broke out into a pleased smirk.
"Here's to being a world savior, for whatever that's worth," Livio replied, his tone slightly mocking. He raised the glass and tipped it slightly at her in a gesture of salute. Lacking a drink, Meryl raised her own empty glass, mocking right back at him.
"Cheers," she said, clinking the glass. He downed the liquid, she sucked on an ice cube a bit. They settled into a companionable silence again. She could taste the remnants of her scotch on the ice, feeling the cold seep through her mouth. The loud sound of merriment from a nearby table broke her reverie, and Meryl watched as a young woman fell giggling onto her companion's lap. Meryl made a scolding noise in her throat, mildly offended by the ostentatious display.
"You disapprove?" Livio asked suddenly, sounding almost amused. Meryl was startled; she didn't think he had heard.
"It is unseemly for anyone to behave in such a ridiculous manner. She's only succeeding in looking ridiculous and like a hussy," Meryl stated matter-of-factly. It was not that she minded public displays of affection, but when young women acted like brainless idiots with strangers, she took offense. It gave women everywhere a bad name, and was, in Meryl's opinion, rather counterintuitive to the whole process. Why on Gunsmoke should women be the ones searching for men? Women were the ones that had children, after all. The species could not continue without women. She frowned a little bit deeper.
"I don't know, maybe she's just having fun," Livio said mildly as they watched the young woman in question settle herself down in her new chair. "He seems to be enjoying himself."
Meryl snorted in disdain. "Of course he is, he's got a little tart sitting on his lap! What man wouldn't be enjoying himself with that kind of… of… nubile attention?"
"Nubile?" Livio said, coughing. Meryl couldn't tell if he was hiding a laugh or not, but decided that he probably was. She primly lifted her head.
"Yes, nubile. What else would you use to describe that blatant display of ridiculous flirtation?"
"Uh… female?" Livio hazarded a guess. It was to his credit, Meryl decided, that he did not flinch much under the deadly glare she leveled him with.
"Female?" she said in something not very short of a snarl. "Female?! Do you honestly think that all women are like that… that… brazen hussy?!" She didn't give him time to respond, although given the rather stricken look on his face, it was probably just as well. "Well, we are not! The large majority of us are given an awful name because of that degenerate behavior! It's no different from a woman saying that all men are sex-driven brutes! It's an unfair stereotype!"
"But," the bartender piped up, grinning at the pair, "we are sex-driven brutes. Can't really say something's a stereotype if it's true."
Meryl glared most severely at him as he moved on to other customers, chuckling. Beside her, Livio muttered something under his breath, something that sounded like, "I'm not like that." Was he… sulking? Sparing a glance for her companion, Meryl could have sworn that he looked distinctly put-out.
Once the bartender was out of hearing range, however, Meryl slouched onto the stool, burying her head in her arms. "I give up. I can't win, can I?" Her voice was muffled, but her defeated tone was still clear.
Had Meryl been focused on Livio, she would have seen him look at her with a little bit of alarm. "Miss Meryl, are you okay?" he said tentatively, as if he was unsure if another outburst would ensue.
She raised a hand to waive off his concern, keeping her head buried. "Fine, fine. I just love having negative stereotypes about my gender reinforced, don't you?" When Livio said nothing, Meryl continued on her tirade. "I mean, really, is it too much to ask for people to see women as people? To see me as a person?" She was rambling a bit, she knew, and after the words escaped her lips, she felt the shame of having said too much.
Beside her, Livio let the silence stretch to the point of discomfort. Meryl couldn't really blame him, she wouldn't know what to say, either, if someone spouted off what she just did. Did he think her mad, now? Touched in the head? Drunk? It was what Meryl would have thought. Feeling glum, she dared risk a look up at him.
He was looking, of all things, slightly perplexed. But whether he was confused with her actions or her words, Meryl didn't know. This man was a remarkably closed book, and despite herself, Meryl found her curiosity piqued.
He fidgeted with his empty glass as Meryl sat back up. She had realized that sulking didn't suit her and was rather counterproductive to the point she was trying to make. That she sulked in the first place wasn't terribly shocking; Meryl always did have a slight flair for dramatics.
"I'm sorry," she said after a few moments, unable to bear the tension any longer. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Livio didn't respond, and Meryl grew irritated. Here she was, trying to ease the tension between the two of them, and he was being difficult!
Her irritation, however, was quickly dispelled with his next words. "I do," he said haltingly. "See you as a person, I mean." Meryl felt her heart soften, and she gently put her hand on his. The casual touch caused him to stiffen, and his gaze to focus on her hand.
"Thank you," she said quietly. He looked up at her face, startled, and Meryl gave him a kind smile. "That means a lot." Meryl noticed the blush dusting his cheeks. He broke the gaze, staring back at her small, pale hand on top of his scarred tanned one. Sensing that the contact made him uncomfortable, Meryl returned her hand to her side, remaining inordinately pleased.
Once again, silence filled the air between them. Meryl couldn't help but feeling that this was one of the quietest conversations she ever did have. But it certainly was not the most unpleasant. All things considered, it was very nice. It was not often that someone actuallylistened to her.
Meryl noticed that Livio continued to shoot her surreptitious glances when he thought she wasn't looking. Really, all she did was touch his hand. He really didn't have much experience with women, did he? Somehow, Meryl thought that it was sweet.
But as much as she would have liked to draw out their encounter, Meryl knew it was late, getting later, and she had an early appointment with the mill manager tomorrow morning. With a regretful sigh and a last glare at the nosy bartender, she pushed her stool back and hopped off. As she bent to pick up her purse, she heard the stool Livio was sitting on scrape back. Before she could place money on the counter, her large companion placed enough to cover them both.
"Thank you," Meryl said, surprised. She had expected Livio to continue drinking. But he stood, perhaps feeling some sort of obligation to see her out, Meryl wasn't sure. "You didn't need to do this. I'll be fine walking back by myself."
Livio shrugged, tilting his hat back for the first time that evening. Meryl was shocked to find out exactly how beautiful his eyes really were. She felt the heat of a blush stain her cheeks again, unable to help it. He smirked a bit. "Well, I wouldn't want you to get into a tanglement with a sex-driven brute." There was a definite twinkle in his eye as he spoke.
Flustered, Meryl rolled her eyes at him before marching ahead, mumbling an "oh, shut up" as she passed. She opened the door, letting the cool night air kiss her face as she walked outside. The air outside smelt so much better than the smoky bar. Meryl felt herself awaken a bit. She turned back to her newfound protector, smiling. He had pulled his hat down low on his eyes again; Meryl couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed.
The pair walked in comfortable silence along the mostly empty streets. Here and there, sounds of merrymaking and music wafted out from merrily lit saloons. It was amazingly peaceful. Meryl wondered if there was a way to catalogue all the silences they had shared in just one evening. If she saw him again, she was certain that list would increase tenfold. Truth be told, she was kind of looking forward to the experience.
The walk back to her hotel wasn't terribly far, and all too soon they found themselves at the hotel doors. Meryl looked up at Livio, feeling the difference in height as she wondered what to say that wouldn't sound like she was ending a date.
"Thank you again," she said, deciding that it was the most platonic and least stupid thing to say. "For your conversation and protection."
"Eh, it was no problem," he replied, bashfully scratching his neck again. The hat rode low on his eyes, and this time, Meryl did laugh lightly at the comical sight he made.
"I was sincere about the offer, you know. I leave here tomorrow morning at nine thirty sharp. It would be nice to have some company on the tour of the mill," Meryl said before turning to enter the hotel. "They'll probably be more honest with me if you're there. Somehow, a five foot four female journalist doesn't command a lot of intimidation, and I only get respect when I demand it."
Livio laughed at that, and Meryl smiled. She raised her hand to wave goodnight and walked into her hotel. On her way up the stairs to her room, Meryl wondered if he expected to be invited up, but she quickly dismissed the notion. If he did, well, she didn't really care. She just wasn't the sort of woman to do that, and she sensed (and hoped) that he wasn't the type of man to do that, either.
Before getting ready for bed, Meryl peeked out her window. He was gone, of course, lost to the night like a shadow. This didn't particularly surprise her; it was only whim that had made her look in the first place. Then again, it was just a whim that had started their conversation in the bar. After putting on her nightgown and brushing her teeth, Meryl dove into bed, falling asleep almost instantly.
Her last thought before she was carried off into her dreams was that she sincerely hoped Livio would be there to greet her on the morrow.
ilililili
FIN
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Author's Notes: Whiz, I love you for inspiring me to write this fic and then for helping me edit it. You rule!