Vash the Stampede belongs to the amazingly creative Mr. Yasuhiro Nightow, not me.
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Waiting
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Year 1755 month 3 day 12
Naomi walked with her father into the largest room in the Seeds ship's second infirmary. She chose two chairs from a side room, and set them against the wall that concealed her mother's cryo tube.
"Here, Papa," she said softly, gesturing toward the chair nearest to the head of the hidden unit.
He wiped at his eyes, but his tears kept flowing. (Thank you,) he thought, and sat. He buried his face in his hands, and sobbed.
She still felt a huge lump in her throat as she put her chair beside his, to his left, and sat in it. She put an arm around him and drew his head toward her shoulder. He accepted her embrace, and leaned on her as her movements invited.
As she held him and cried with him, her mind was ricocheting among many different thoughts. How long did he usually stay? Was it only a coincidence that there was a faint flicker of something resembling a dream state or near-awareness from her mother, following the day of the anniversary of the attacks?
Could Vash somehow have the power to do what she and her healer-trained kin had failed to do for the last four decades?
This year, for various reasons, her siblings and the rescued descendants of slaughtered siblings had nearly all been delayed. Usually, everyone would arrive on or before the anniversary of the massacre, so that they could also comfort her father... and each other. It was also an opportunity to celebrate the lives of all who survived.
This year, most would arrive during the course of this night. She'd left her house unlocked, and her father's. When they arrived, every one could go right in and make themselves comfortable.
The healers would not willingly miss the morning, when there was a very slight possibility of interacting with her mother. They always hoped that they could stir that flickering ember into a brighter flame, and risk an attempt to wake her. So far, they had always failed.
The healer-trained Plants had all spent the 40 years since she'd been put into Cryo learning everything that they could about cryo sleep, and about waking those who were thus preserved. If a day came when they believed they might safely wake her, they all knew what to do. There would be no need to call in anyone else.
Naomi meant to keep her father there, if she could. She had to know if it was his presence that caused her mother's tiny flicker of near-awareness every year.
It seemed likely to be easier than she'd hoped to keep him there. He was still sobbing on her shoulder, and his emotional echoes suggested that he might be falling asleep.
It would be a long night.
One sleepless night was a price she was more than willing to pay, even if it only comforted her father. If there was any possibility, however remote, that it might also help to restore her mother... then it might be an easier price than she deserved.
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Year 1755 month 3 day 13
Naomi continued to hold him, even after he fell asleep. She instinctively rocked him very slightly, as she would a child. Her own tears continued to flow. She felt as if her own heart were torn into many small pieces. Was it her fault that he was suffering so much?
She was the one who'd compelled everyone to keep silent, to conceal from him that her mother wasn't dead but only in cryo. Shyla's hair had been turning black so swiftly... she still feared that there wouldn't be time to complete the waking process before her mother died. The only hope appeared to be in finding a method to break her out of stasis first.
She had visited her a great deal at first, and had sought surplus energy from orb-sisters, so that she might heal her mother's injuries. She didn't want those remaining as another obstacle to Shyla's safe awakening. So at least her mother's body was intact. She would be weak, when or if ever she wakened, but she was physically whole.
Naomi leaned her cheek against her father's head, where it rested on her shoulder. He must have washed his hair recently, since the scents of sandalwood and spices were faintly present. However, she could also smell the desert winds. From her earliest childhood, she recalled that desert wind scent on him. Somehow, it was comforting to her that his scent hadn't changed.
He tensed, and mumbled in his sleep. "Shyla," he said softly. The way he said her name, even in his sleep, was so very tender. His emotional echoes plainly indicated a dream about his wife.
Suddenly Naomi felt heat in her cheeks. It was likely that nobody had held her father while he slept since he'd been parted from her mother. She hoped he wouldn't try to do anything in his sleep that would be too intimate, from mistakenly thinking he was with his wife.
To Naomi's infinite relief, all he did was caress her arm before he went fully limp again.
She glanced at the chronometer on the wall. They'd been in the room for five and a half hours. It was currently two hours past midnight. She hoped that was longer than usual for him to be there. However, she meant to stay until after the other healers arrived. She hoped to keep him in the room that long or longer also, if possible.
She had to know if his presence made a difference in her mother's condition, or not. She couldn't think of any other way to learn the answer to that question.
...
The first to arrive was Tessla. She was mildly startled when she saw Naomi there, cradling their father in her arms.
Naomi raised one finger and placed it over her own mouth, requesting silence with that gesture.
Tessla nodded. (Why did you bring him here?) she wondered.
(I didn't,) Naomi thought. (He brought me. He said he always comes here, on the evening of the anniversary. Last night, he said, we came later than he usually does. That made me wonder if...) She glanced toward the concealed cryo unit to her left.
Tessla looked thoughtful for a moment. Then her eyes widened. (You think his visits might be causing...?)
(I don't know,) she replied. (I need to try to find out. The best way I could think of to learn was to try keeping him here. He cried himself to sleep, and we've been here since.)
Tessla looked sad. (Aww, poor Papa,) she thought tenderly. (Shall I tell the others not to come?)
(No,) Naomi thought. (Let's all come and love her, like usual. We'll just keep the panel closed. I still don't want to give him false hope.)
Tessla nodded. (I'll warn them, at least, that he is here. And why. Maybe most of us could sit in the dormitory, since it's near her feet, to avoid waking him?)
(Good idea, and thank you,) Naomi thought. (I want to stay attuned to Mama. If he is the catalyst, it may happen later than usual.)
Tessla nodded. She quietly left them to wait in the dormitory.
Naomi's thoughts began wandering as she waited quietly.
Of the thirty rescued children, eight had chosen to study healing. They had been admitted to the secret about Shyla sleeping in cryo, after they reached adequate proficiency that they might be able to assist if she did begin to come out of stasis. They were all technically "of age" now, though some of them still appeared like humans in their early to middle teens.
One of the three adult brothers who had been rescued was also a healer, and had likewise been informed. Naomi had also told Frank, when he married her. She hadn't wanted him to wonder why she went to the room where her mother had last been seen alive so often.
Everyone else, family or not, remained ignorant as far as Naomi knew. Family was kept ignorant, at her request, to protect them from the pain of cherishing a hope that might prove false. Others remained ignorant to prevent word spreading. There were still small groups of crooked leaf cultists discovered occasionally, and she didn't want anyone sabotaging Shyla's cryo sleep cylinder.
Alex might be unable to come this year, if he and Frank were unable to solve a problem with an orb-sister in time. If the mechanical malfunction was not corrected almost immediately, the trapped sister's life would be endangered. Naomi understood all of these things, but she still wished that her husband, and her other brothers, could be here.
One by one, every Plant healer except Alex came in, greeted Naomi, and then moved into the dormitory. Her apprentices, Martha and Ruth, arrived first. Alex's apprentices, Lydia and Deborah, arrived shortly thereafter. Tessla's apprentices, Matthew and Jonah, arrived next. Her brother William came next, followed by his apprentices, Sharon and Angelina.
Naomi recalled teasing her father for the way he had asked her to assign who was apprenticed to whom for apprenticeship among the ones who chose to pursue healing. She didn't believe for one second that it was a coincidence that her unmarried siblings received apprentices of the opposite gender.
The corners of her mouth crept upward as she recalled the excessively innocent expression his face wore as he replied. "I'm only providing opportunities," he'd said. "I'm not compelling anything to happen."
Thankfully, her dear father was an honest soul. It hadn't taken much prodding to pry an admission out of him. "I know what it's like to be lonely, just as you do," he'd said gently. "If I can provide an opportunity that might help them avoid suffering that pain, I will. Besides, if I don't do something, Sheriff Central is likely to try their hand at providing 'opportunities' for my children. I hope that, since I already know and love them all, I might do a better job than they would."
She couldn't deny that he'd taken time and care in choosing apprentice assignments. He knew each individual, and had arranged "opportunities" for those the most compatible or most distantly related to spend time together. In each case, one apprentice was very similar in personality to the mentor, and the other apprentice had a very different personality.
The greatest risk was that both apprentices might grow too attached to their mentor. However, since the personalities of the two apprentices were so dissimilar, that was somewhat unlikely. Also, each individual grew emotionally at a different rate. It was unlikely that both apprentices would "awaken" with romantic love for their mentor at the same time.
He'd also carefully assigned co-apprenticeships for those inclined toward law enforcement, teaching, music, and clergy. Every one had an "opportunity" available as they finished growing up, even if it was a case of a male and female being apprenticed together under the same mentor or to the same location.
He was on the lookout for unrelated independent Plants, also. He'd gone out and met them, and made friends with them, and then carefully incorporated them into the "opportunities" that he arranged.
She gently stroked his hair as he continued sleeping. Her thoughts turned toward him.
Her father had so many different moods; there were times when it almost felt as if she didn't know him at all. He could be very childlike. Other times, he'd display a wisdom that proved he really had lived for many centuries. He always kept current with events and slang, and often thought about how popular words would shape people's thinking. Yet he also had a deep respect for traditions that he found "worth keeping."
All through her youth, he'd seemed very energetic. Almost as if he had more life inside of him than he could contain, so he tried to share it with everyone else. She had come to think of that as an intrinsic part of him.
That had changed when he first opened his eyes again, after being encouraged to believe that her mother was dead.
Since then, she saw him struggling almost every day. He went through the motions of living. He ate, he slept, and he would tell jokes or talk or sing. However, his eyes remained bleak. They no longer sparkled, or shone, as they had always used to do.
She felt like a murderer. Watching him struggle, it seemed as if she was killing him by iches. Except for Frank and her elder twin Rem, there was no one in the whole world that she loved as much as she loved her Papa. Yet he was only existing, no longer living.
She strained for the first hint of that faint flicker from her mother. Maybe, this year...?
She dared to hope as she waited in silence.
