Disclaimer: Don't own Trigun.
A/N: Meryl's childhood snapshot thingy. I took the liberties of doing whatever I wanted with it. Screw canon; Nightow never elaborated on this.
Meryl is nine years old, and her father is a plant technician who leads her by the hand towards one of the inner laboratories. Her palm sweaty in his, she watches with fleeting curiosity the other scientists and technicians running back and forth, feverishly typing away or repairing some machine. Every so often, someone will glance at the light coming off of the light bulb in the center.
Spying a co-worker gesturing for help, Father lets go of her hand, and she takes halting steps towards the glow. Meryl barely registers the faint hum beneath the floor before he stops her, kneeling down to meet her child-eyes. Uncomfortable, she turns away.
Pointing to the bulb, he says gently, "Look."
She looks, but squints at the brightness.
"This is the reason we are living. This is why we have enough water and food everyday." His voice drops, becoming much more sober. "Never forget that, Meryl."
She nods because every nine year-old knows that it is the proper answer. "Okay. Can I touch her?"
The question catches him off-guard. "Wait—why do you say 'her'?"
Attention focused fully on the plant, Meryl sighs impatiently. "She has long hair. She's pretty too." Turning to look at him, she adds, "Duh."
Father stares for a moment and then shakes his head, smiling. "I guess you're right. Yes, you can go closer. Just be careful and don't break the glass."
But she is already at the bulb, running her fingers over the pulsating warmth and light of the surface. The plant inside shifts, and Meryl finds herself staring right at a pair of colorless eyes.
"Oh!" she cries.
He is instantly beside her, his attention also captured by the angel. "Beautiful, huh?"
"Yeah," Meryl says slowly. She turns to her father. "Why is she in there?"
His face takes on a look, either wrought with too much or not at all, and she keeps on staring at him until a co-worker saves them both.
"Stryfe, I got a question. How would you…"
He shakes his head (don't think about it don't think about it) and stands up, ruffling her hair. "Sorry, I'm needed again. Can you just play here for a few more minutes? I didn't mean to bring you here. We'll go somewhere else after another hour or so, okay?"
Review, dammit.