DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.
"Meryl Stryfe…will you marry me?"
Vash's reflection in the full-length mirror stared back at him as he thought about this approach.
"No," he said worriedly as he stood up and paced. "Everybody does that. This is Meryl we're talking about – I need to give her a grand gesture. Fireworks in the sky. Hearts floating around. A whole line of Milly clones cheering us on with pom-poms. Something spectacular!"
What you need is to shut up, the thought floated to him. You're acting even more asinine than usual.
"Be quiet!" he called to his brother in the other room. "This is important."
It was faint, but Vash picked up on a thought that Knives would no doubt claim he hadn't meant to leak out. "That's no way to talk about a lady! Don't let me catch you saying that out loud around her!"
One final snarky thought before Knives went back to reading his Machiavelli. "Come on, you know that's not even physically possible!"
What Vash needed was some fresh air to clear his head. That would help him think of an appropriate way to pop the question. Stepped out front with a beer to charge up the neurons and took a seat on a folding sports chair.
Man, he needed to stop doing projects out here. The little table next to his chair was crowded with screws and bolts and various implements. Sawdust and metal shavings littered the front deck surface.
Maybe that's what he should do, build a set or something. Or rig up some lights out here to set the mood. Maybe the fireworks thing wasn't a bad idea – New Year's was coming up fast, and he was sure enough of himself that he bet he could engineer a fireworks display that would ask the question for him. That was a pretty grand gesture, wasn't it?
He lost himself in thought as he thought of various scenarios, searching for the one that would be perfect for her.
Tires screeched and brakes squealed a little ways down the road. "Stupid bitch!'
"Stupid drunken moron!" Meryl yelled back. "Try driving sober and away from pedestrians!" Resumed her daily run from having jumped out of the imbecile driver's way. Already the New Year's partiers were in town wreaking havoc, and the event itself still wasn't for several days. Worse, it was only three o'clock in the afternoon; things would get much more hectic when the sun went down.
Her run took her right up to Vash, still lost in thought. What was he muttering about now? Whatever haze he was lost in, she planned to snap him out of it in a hurry. One bright spot of New Year's was her and Milly's friend and ex-coworker Karen was coming to visit, and Meryl fully planned to show off her boyfriend, object of both her aggravation and affection.
"Meryl Stryfe," he burst out, standing up and causing her to jump back, "will you marry me and be my insurance girl for life?" Sat down and shook his head. "No, she'll slap me for something that silly."
Meryl didn't know what stunned her more – the question, or that Vash was so wrapped up in thinking that he didn't even register her. At least she knew the answer to the question.
"Yes." It was one word, but suddenly her heart was trying to beat itself out of her chest with everything it carried. The promise of a life together, with someone she was so in love with that she was even happy when he drove her up a wall. There simply was no other answer.
Vash looked up, startled. "Who the – Meryl! Sorry, I didn't see you there," he said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "Um…how long have you been here?"
Her grin was uncontainable. "Long enough to say yes."
"Yes? Yes to what?"' The color was draining from his face as he realized that his as-yet-unplanned surprise might have just been exposed.
"Yes, I'll marry you, you wonderful, broom-headed dimwit," she elaborated affectionately.
"What?! You – you can't say yes yet!" Head swiveled in panic. "I haven't asked properly! I haven't even gotten the ring yet!"
"We don't need a ring, darling," Meryl said tenderly, feeling inside like she was going to float away. "The fact that you asked is all I need, Vash."
Her proposer shook his head resolutely. "This has to be done right. If I can't give you the proposal you deserve, I can at least give you some semblance of it." He scanned around, selecting something from the mess on the table next to him. Stood up straight, then solemnly sank to one knee before her. Took her hand in his.
"Meryl Stryfe," Vash said earnestly, "will you do me the honor of becoming my wife, the woman I will love for as long as I live?" He was well aware of the possible implications of what he was promising, and making that promise anyway. It was a promise he knew he would keep.
"I will, Vash," Meryl breathed. "I absolutely will."
"I need to get a proper ring, but I hope this will do for now."
She looked at the O-ring he slid on her finger.
"It's beautiful." She meant it – the world might see an O-ring, but she saw his promise on her finger.
Eyes cleared as reality dawned. "Oh! There's so much to do! We have a whole wedding to plan! We'll need to get cover names set up – a wedding with everyone knowing who you are is bound to get shot up! We'll need to figure out who to invite – obviously Milly and Karen – and where to have the ceremony – and –" Her brain started to fly into overdrive.
Until Vash kissed her, removing everything from her mind that wasn't him.
"We'll work it out later. We have all the time in the world, insurance girl."
"We do." Meryl beamed. "I have to go find Milly and tell her. And Karen's coming in, and I really want her to meet you now!" Gave him one last smile, then took off at a sprint.
Vash sat back down in the chair, a dazed smile on his face. It had happened. Maybe not the way it should have happened, but it had happened.
And Meryl had said yes.
As if there were any doubt. Vash could practically hear Knives snort.
"I thought I taught you not to eavesdrop on people," Vash called into the house.
It's not eavesdropping when your minds were shouting everything you felt. And for what it's worth – I still don't understand why you want to be like them, but I guess I can try to be happy for you.
Huh. Perhaps Vash really was getting through to his brother.
Not bloody likely! Knives fumed, prompting a chuckle from Vash.
The sound of screeching tires came from down the road. Idiot partiers. While all for self-regulation, Vash couldn't help but think that maybe a law against drunk driving would be a good thing. After all, self-regulation only worked if people regulated themselves – it was kind of implied in the term. A law punishing drunk drivers might cut down on some of these near-accidents.
A commotion came from over that way, bringing people running, some with first aid kits. Damn it – maybe it wasn't such a near-accident, after all.
"Knives, stay out of trouble!" Vash called. "I'm going to go check this out."
Jogged down the road. A crowd was gathered around. It was hard to see what was going on, but it was pretty clear something bad had happened.
Snagged a bystander. "Anyone hurt?"
"One of those asshole drunks hit a lady! Bastards oughta –" Vash left him fuming and pushed inward.
His world crumbled as he caught a glimpse of the victim.
"Move! Move, damn it!" Shouldered people out of the way, panic growing inside. "Goddamnit, move!"
It wasn't too late, if he could just get to his fiancée. He was Vash the fricking Stampede – if he had the energy to put a hole in a moon, he could sure as hell channel that energy to heal her.
Damned if he was going to be helpless to save someone he loved again.
But he was. As he got through and knelt at Meryl's side to examine her, he could feel the extent of her injuries. Could feel where her ribs were broken. Could hear the blood gurgle as she breathed. Punctured lung.
He couldn't heal that. If there weren't a broken rib there, if it were just the hole by itself, then maybe. But not the way it was.
Vash was going to lose her.
No! At the very least, he had to try. He put his hands over his fiancee's torso.
Someone, a doctor maybe, tried to intervene. He was speaking English, but Vash couldn't comprehend what he was saying. Already, his breath was coming in ragged, desperate gasps, and he shoved the man away, snarling. Returned to what he was doing.
"Work," he muttered, as he sent his energy into Meryl's body. "I can't lose Meryl, too. Work, damn you!" he commanded his own power.
It was no use. At most, he was just easing her pain; at worst, he was prolonging the inevitable. Vash could feel the futility of his efforts, yet he kept trying, willing a miracle to happen.
Meryl looked at him. Whispered something that was lost between the noise of the crowd and her lungs drowning in blood.
He leaned in closer so he could hear.
"It's ok," Meryl repeated, voice weak and gurgly. "You can let go."
Vash's tears fell on her face, running down her cheeks. "I can't! Damn it, Meryl, I need you!"
"You'll always have me. It's not goodbye – just look for me when you get there."
One hand weakly clasped his.
"I will," he promised with all his heart. "I'll look for you. Know that I love you, Meryl Stryfe." Though she was fading far too fast, he could see in her eyes that she wanted him to know the same thing.
A soft kiss was all he had left to give his fiancée. That, and his last words to her.
"Wait for me."