Vash the Stampede belongs to the amazingly creative Mr. Yasuhiro Nightow, not me.
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Wedding
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Year 1114 month 2 day 14
Vash had his suspicions.
He did some checking, nosing around in the Sheriff Central computer. He couldn't find any indication of who had given the order, which suggested that said person must be well up the ladder. However, the pattern was abundantly clear.
It was a trifle too convenient that the only two independent female Plants on the payroll were always chosen to assist his eldest sons, Nicholas and Alex.
It was interesting that Alex was always chosen as the Plant healer, whenever there was a need to go into territory so dangerous that additional bodyguards were wanted. This pattern was ongoing for 55 years.
They never paired those girls with Rem and Naomi, nor with Lina and Tessla, nor even with himself and Shyla. The two non-related Plant girls were always sent out with Nicholas and Alex. It happened that way every single time. There were no exceptions.
It had partially worked. He shook Nicholas' hand, since they were in public. He'd hug his boy later, when none of his friends would see it to tease him. He hugged his new daughter in law now, and kissed her cheek in an appropriately fatherly manner.
He'd noticed the pattern by the fourth time it happened. So he'd done a little checking, and found no fault in the records for either girl. He'd found occasion to visit them, with Shyla along to get a feminine perspective. So he and Shyla knew both of the young ladies, as individuals, long before Nicholas had proposed to Clara.
Thankfully, both of the girls' personalities were entirely above reproach... and the one Nicholas had chosen was surprisingly well-suited to his disposition. That had been a relief, though he and Shyla had continued visiting each girl occasionally as the pattern continued.
Today, as Clara married into his family, Vash had the honor of "standing in" as the father of the bride (at her request). So he'd smilingly walked her up the aisle, and given her hand into the hand of his son.
He was truly happy for Nicholas. However, it might take him awhile to grow accustomed to being called "Grandpa." He saw the look in his son's eyes, and knew that title wasn't likely to be far off.
He'd continued keeping an eye on the orders coming through Sheriff Central's computer ever since. That meant he knew they had recently hired two more female Plants, and had assigned them to join forces with his younger sons, Brad and Livio.
He wasn't sure he liked the idea of Sheriff Central playing matchmaker for his children.
He'd spoken with Shyla, and they had already arranged vacation time to visit each of the new girls. Those meetings would take place before the girls in question met their sons.
He wasn't sure what he or Shyla could do if either girl turned out to be unsuitable, but if there did seem to be any problem, they'd do their best to prevent the upcoming meeting between said girl and their sons.
He wasn't sure if he was glad, or disappointed, that the only known male Plant besides himself and his sons had died two centuries ago. Sometimes, he almost wished that Knives had found a willing female Plant just before he died. If a voluntary partner, someone who was infatuated by Knives but did not share his distorted views on life, had given birth to a son after Knives' death... he sighed.
That hadn't happened, and there was no point in daydreaming about it. He hoped his daughters would find contentment without too much craving for a masculine Plant. It hurt to think of all the pain that any of his daughters would suffer, if she came to love a short-lived normal human male enough that she wanted to marry him.
There were occasional rumors that a male independent Plant had appeared. Each time Vash and Shyla went to investigate, however, they found nothing and no one. The person(s) who claimed to have found a baby boy Plant always abruptly moved away, without any forwarding address. There were never any newborn or very young boys that seemed Plant-like anywhere in that town, either.
Vash was beginning to suspect that someone was killing the baby boy independents, for fear of another Knives-like personality running amok. He was thankful that he was himself mistaken for being a half-Plant, making his children apparently three-quarter Plants, and therefore perceived as less of a threat than a pure Plant.
He'd have been happy to adopt and raise any independent boy Plants that happened. Perhaps he should find ways to drop hints along those lines, and see if anything changed.
He and Shyla took their place in the reception line, and they started giving out hugs and / or handshakes to each guest.
His other children seemed pleased for their brother; though most of them looked as if he were speaking a language that they didn't understand. Naomi seemed to understand Nicholas' joy better than the others. Vash hoped she wasn't hurting too much, either from loving a human or from loneliness.
That most of his children didn't seem to understand was fine with Vash. He felt no urgency for his children to seek mates. To him, it was more important that they be happy. Whether it took ten years or ten thousand, he'd much rather see them happily than hurriedly wed.
Almost everyone was smiling, delighted to share the joy of the newlyweds.
Everyone but that blonde girl over there, that is. She looked positively grim. Vash kept flicking his gaze toward her between greeting other guests, as she gradually drew nearer for her own turn to greet everyone.
Her emotions echoed more loudly than most people's. This was a peculiarity that puzzled him. He glanced toward Shyla, allowing a question to show only in his eyes.
(I see her, too) Shyla's thoughts gently whispered into his mind. (I've seen her before, at some of the gatherings of sheriff and marshal representatives. She often seemed to have eyes for Nicholas. I hope she won't do anything foolish.)
(I hope so, too) Vash responded, continuing to watch her. Since Shyla reminded him, he now knew where he'd seen her before. Naturally, he'd overlooked the girl's interest in his son. Thankfully, Shyla was better attuned to such details. Between them, they rarely missed seeing anything of importance.
The grumpy girl approached slowly, apparently slipping further back in the line of guests. Perhaps she wished to be the last to greet the newlyweds? Or, hopefully, perhaps she was having second thoughts about venting her temper here.
(She's going to do something foolish,) Shyla's thought was tinged with sorrow.
Vash nodded inwardly, and moved slightly closer to his son and daughter in law. He saw that Shyla was doing the same. Shyla had always been slightly more sensitive to the feelings radiating from humans than he was. He shared his inner smile with his wife, and felt her response.
When the angry girl reached the newlyweds, she was the last guest in the line. She went straight to the bride, and called her the worst, lowest, most insulting version of "prostitute" currently in use. As she spoke, she raised a hand as if to strike her.
Nicholas was closer than Vash, and his reflexes were equal to his father's. He caught the girl's wrist before her intended blow reached his bride.
"She is not," Nicholas said with quiet intensity. "If you cannot be polite, Kendra, the door is over there."
Nicholas released her wrist with some momentum in the direction of the indicated door. It wasn't enough to make her fall, but it was enough that she had to take an extra step or two in the direction he'd pushed her before she could regain her physical balance. The status of her mental balance remained an open question.
"This should be my wedding, mine!" she spat. "I knew you first. I saw how you looked at me, so I know you were interested. Then she comes along and bribes someone to get herself assigned as your co-partner, and now you're marrying her. So did she..."
The girl suggested some bizarre versions of intimate activities – things that most people found unappealing (in part because they'd be downright painful) – as possible ways that Clara might have won Nicholas' interest.
"My goodness, you're a crass little thing, aren't you?" Shyla said conversationally. She now stood beside the angry girl, and had taken a hold of her arm. "That kind of language doesn't belong in a church." She began steering the girl toward a door.
"This isn't over," the girl hissed over her shoulder, when it became clear that she couldn't wrestle herself free from Shyla's grip.
Nicholas stood with his fists clenched, glaring after her for a moment. Then he turned to his bride, who looked nearly ready to cry, and began to comfort her.
Vash squeezed first his son's shoulder, and then his daughter-in-law's. After that, he followed Shyla and the disruptive guest.
"You don't know what she is," the envious girl was railing at Shyla, when Vash joined them. "If you did, you wouldn't let your son marry her!"
"Actually, it sounds like we know her better than you do," Vash said softly. "We've known her for fifty years. Clara's behavior has always been above reproach. If she were the type of person you're suggesting, my wife would have detected it long ago."
"Isn't it true," Shyla said gently, "that you are the one with some experience in the matters you are describing in such great detail? Did someone force you to do those things?" She sounded sad as she asked, genuinely offering comfort and support.
"I do what I want," the young blonde yelled defiantly, right in Shyla's face.
"Then do it elsewhere," Shyla said firmly. She let go of the girl, but stood in the doorway beside Vash.
Since the two of them effectively blocked the doorway, the girl had a shortage of options. "I'll get her for this," she hissed between clenched teeth, glaring between them as if trying to see Nicholas' bride through the doorway.
"I wouldn't recommend trying," Shyla said. "Nicholas is not my most bashful boy. When he wants something, he goes after it. This suggests that you are mistaken, and that he never wanted you. You'll only annoy people if you continue this rude behavior."
The girl's eyes focused on Shyla, perhaps for the first time. Previously, she'd been looking past her, into the reception. "You'll pay for interfering," she said. "I'll see you dead. Do you hear me? Dead!"
Vash felt his eyebrows draw down into a frown. He reached into his back pocket with his prosthetic hand, and silently pulled out his handcuffs. "That sounded very much like a threat," he said with quiet intensity.
"It was no threat," the girl said. "It is a promise!"
"In that case, I arrest you..." he recited the necessary legal protocols as he snapped the handcuff onto one of her wrists. He tried to sound bored, as the best way to communicate to this little firecracker that she was not making a favorable impression. He was rewarded by a startled expression on the girl's face as he caught and cuffed her other wrist.
She seemed to have forgotten that she was dealing with law enforcement officers, even though he and Shyla were both openly wearing their deputy marshal stars. Threatening any law enforcement officer, on or off duty, was a felony.
The girl continued hurling abusive words, and threats, at both of them as they walked her to the Sheriff's office. There was only a skeleton crew at that office, since most were attending the wedding. However, there were enough deputies present to participate in the necessary paperwork of processing her arrest.
Those who were present appeared completely surprised. None of them previously had any idea that she was so venomous.
Vash sighed sadly. He always found it sad when someone allowed disappointment to grow into bitterness, and then hatred. It especially saddened him that this girl must have some Plant blood in her. How else could she have known Nicholas so long and still appear so young? How else could she broadcast her emotions so strongly?
He knew the girl would not listen to reason from him, at least not today. He might try on a later day, or perhaps Shyla would. He hoped someone could reach through her wall of bitterness to help her rediscover her better self.
For the moment, best that she cool her head in the jail where (hopefully) she couldn't harm anyone.
They finished the needful paperwork, and left the office. As they closed the door behind them, one of the sheriff's deputies asked about slipping a sedative into her next meal, and the others laughed.
The girl was still swearing and threatening and carrying on as they walked away.
"I hope there's still some cake left," Vash said cheerfully, hoping to change the subject.
Shyla gently swatted at his shoulder. "As if that's the only reason you attended, or the most important," she said playfully. "Cake, indeed."
"I like the cake too," he protested, equally playfully. "Or maybe they had some donuts?"
She laughed and hugged him. "Yes, there are doughnuts," she said, "or at least, there were. You're growing predictable in your old age."
"I am not!" he said. He put an exaggerated "startled innocence" expression on his face.
"Maybe you're only predictable to me," she allowed, smiling. Then her playful tone was exchanged for a softer, more serious comment. "I have a proposal for you."
"But Mayfly, we're already married," he teased. "Though if you want to ask me this time... I promise that I'll be 'predictable' and accept." He grinned widely, and (he hoped) charmingly, at her.
She laughed again. "Well, acting married would be a part of it," she said mysteriously.
He stopped walking to look at her curiously.
This time her laugh was more nearly a giggle. "Did you see the way our son looked at his new bride?" she asked.
"He looked like almost every other bridegroom I've ever met," Vash replied softly, briefly abandoning all joking and teasing. "He appeared to be totally enchanted by his bride, and barely noticing that there's anyone or anything else in the world." Seeing her expression, he added, "Yes, myself included. You were saying?"
Shyla's cheeks were slightly pinker than usual as she said, "I was thinking he looks likely to be a father soon."
"That tends to be a side-effect of people getting married," Vash agreed calmly.
"Well," Shyla said, "we always planned to have more children, eventually. Wouldn't now be a good time? We've been away from home almost constantly for the last hundred years. If we raise a few more children now, then Nicholas' children will have some other young Plants, nearly their own age, with whom they can socialize."
"True," he said. He made a playful exaggeration of thoughtfully considering an idea that was new and perhaps very slightly less than welcome.
That earned him a raised eyebrow and a no-nonsense expression from his wife. Then her expression softened. "If we have a boy, we could name him William after William Reeve."
He said, "I have a counter proposal." He grinned mischievously as he spoke.
"Oh, really?" she said guardedly. "And what might that be?"
"I propose that we go home and attempt to have at least four more children in the immediate future," he said, "and that we offer to be adoptive parents for any independent Plant children that nobody else wants."
Shyla looked thoughtful, and heartbeats kept going by while she pondered. He wasn't sure if she was teasing him as he'd teased her, or if she really needed to consider the idea for so long.
"Agreed," she finally said. "If they're making sure that no little boy Plants grow up, perhaps that offer can spare at least some of them."
He smiled. "I should have known you'd figure that out, too," he said. "I don't know that anything along those lines is happening, but..."
"... but just in case, let's provide an alternative." She smiled. "This could be interesting. It would mean less traveling for us. However, if it saves lives..."
He nodded, and his smile widened. "I love you," he told her.
"I love you, too," she said, still smiling.
"Let's go help Nicholas finish his cake," Vash said. "Then we can clean things up here, and head for home."
She linked her arm in his, and they went back into the church.