It took several fearful moments before she remembered where she was. The ache of her wounds didn't help, nor did the unfamiliar rattling of a pipe, nor the cold but unnatural feel of the wall.

The muffled sound of his footsteps behind a closed door nearby, that is what finally reminded her of her surroundings.

It was a basement in a commercial area of December, very spartan. The floor came furnished – not nicely so, but she would have gratefully laid upon the musty bed even if Vash hadn't covered it with a blanket. She'd insisted Vash let her help him about the place, but he wouldn't let her touch the 'prisoner'. No, she should sleep, Vash had argued. She didn't recall fighting it for very long; she must've drifted into an immediate slumber.

Sitting there, she moved her tongue about her dry mouth. She slid off the bed, noting it was just a couple of mattresses sitting on a concrete floor, and slowly she made her way across the room. Vash had poured her a drink in this general direction, so she stepped over to where the sink must be. Her waving hand found the cool, metal spout. It took many handfuls to get very much water to her lips, one-handed as she was, but her thirst was sated. Fingers gliding along the wall, she felt her way to the left a few feet, to the warmer, smoother surface of a doorframe.

The doorknob turned before she'd a chance to move it. Her waving hand met his chest instead of air, felt warm, slick sweat on his exposed skin and scars. Vanessa drew her palm back in surprise.

"I don't want you to ever go in there. For anything," Vash explained, as he ushered her backward and closed the door behind them. "I'm going to handle everything beyond that door."

"Well, fine, but you'd let me at least see in there if I could." She rubbed her hand dry upon her side. "So do me the favor of describing the situation behind the door, would you?"

Vash clicked and turned locks before edging toward the sink. "A tattoo artist used to live here." He pulled water up his arm. "Left behind all his stuff. That room was his studio, and Knives will be staying in the chair."

"It'd be better if he were lying down," she murmured.

"Yeah. He is. It's one of those...mechanical chairs." Clearing his throat, he turned the water knob off. "He's strapped down and fully sedated. He'll stay that way indefinitely."

"The whole cocktail...?"

"Mm Hmm." Vash rubbed away the sweat with a towel from his pack. As he tugged on a clean sweatshirt, several loud knocks echoed into the basement. "It's okay; an expected visitor," he assured in response to her startled pose. He led her to a chair at a table nearby, and slid his Colt back into his hip holster before ascending the creaking staircase to the door.

Vanessa's assumption that he was expecting the girls was soon proven wrong. A heavier set of footsteps followed Vash back to the concrete floor. She could hardly make a move to cover her ears, or hide from sight.

"Thank you for coming quickly, Doctor Krushnik," Vash was saying as they came to the tabletop. "This is Vanessa, sir."

A cold, bony but strong hand gripped hers in a handshake. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma'am. Now, let's get to it." The heavy thud of a satchel announced his intent, along with the skidding of another chair. "How long has it been since the injuries were sustained?"

"Two." She cleared her throat. "Two days, now."

He grunted subtle disapproval. "Well, let's see what we have, then." Dr. Krushnik began to snip open the cloth bandages, making quick work of everything from her forehead to her neck and back.

Vanessa unwrapped her hand as the other bandages were hastily but carefully pulled away. The doctor's fingers pressed at the edges of her wounds. She drew measured breaths through her nose.

OXO

"I will do what I can, you understand."

Vash nodded but his eyes remained fixed on her face. It was his first look at what his brother's weapon had done to her, and he found the sight quieting. It was worse than he expected. His stomach dropped further when he realized the strangeness about her eyes meant the lids were sliced open.

In addition to a half dozen cuts of varying length from chin to brow, there were two cuts to her left eyelid and one to her right. The tension over her eye opened the wounds, through which Vash saw the whites of her eyes. Once Dr. Krushnik had wiped the areas with alcohol, he applied a bit of medical tape to each lid, sealing them mercifully closed. Vash found he'd been holding his breath.

Vanessa lifted her taped lids slightly, letting her glazed pupils roll about while the doctor began stitching her hand.

"Can you see?" Vash mumured, leaning across the tabletop.

She bit her lip. Her eyes quivered, as tears of strain rolled from her eyes. "It's very blurry."

He waved three fingers near her face.

"I can see the movement."

"How many fingers?"

She frowned.

"Ma'am, I must insist you give your sight a rest. Need to keep them clean and wet." He paused stitching to apply more tape over her lashes. With quick fingers, he continued stitching with his strong, black thread.

Sliding his hand under her uninjured palm, Vash squeezed her fingers reassuringly.

She accepted and gripped his hand. Her jaw was clenched tight against the individual piercing pains of each stitch. She breathed rhythmically, slowly through her nose, hand hold tightening. Soon Dr. Krushnik began to sew at her shoulder and up her neck.

Vash gasped softly, and Vanessa let go her vice grip, sliding her hand into her lap.

"Sir, perhaps you'd do well with some fresh air," the doctor suggested, wiping his sleeve across his forehead.

Smirking slightly, Vash broke his gaze from her damaged face.

"Vash, you don't have to stay," she agreed through clenched teeth.

He watched the needle dive in and weave out of her skin once more, pressed his knuckles against his eyes, and stood. "I'll get out of your hair, then. Be in the next room if you need me, okay?"

He took a few steps toward Knives' room, and Vanessa spoke up as he reached for the door. "Vash, where are you going."

"I need to consult a superior being," he grumbled.

"Please don't-"

"Now, ma'am," Dr. Krushnik interjected. "A man should have a right to his religion, don't you think?"

"I..." Vanessa clamped her jaw together again. The needle dove into the soft flesh under her jaw and she froze. Vash ducked into the dim room.

OXO

"Did he literally speak to you...?" she asked, voice lifting with concern as she rose from the table, the doctor finally out of earshot.

Vash clomped down the last few stairs and tucked his wallet, several bills lighter, back into his pocket. "We had a conversation, yes."

Vanessa faced his direction, bowing her head to let her hair cover the new black threading on her face. "Vash, if he can talk, he can-"

Tapping his temple, Vash replied, "In here. We talk without talking." He didn't immediately realize she couldn't see the gesture.

She understood anyway, and nodded. "Oh. Right. But the full cocktail should leave him totally unconscious. Unless you want him to become very angry, very bored, and quite possibly very insane, you need to use the entire cocktail."

"And let him sleep peacefully instead of thinking about what he's-" Vash stopped and set his hand upon her shoulder. "Don't worry about it. Let me."

She sighed.

"Listen, how about I draw you a bath?"

"That'd be nice."

"You're in luck; I have a bar of soap." Vash stepped away, into the adjoining bathroom, and stoppered the tub. He held his fingers under the spout as it ran. "Let me undo the back of your dress for you."

Vanessa turned for him to assist as offered.

"Speaking of; your other dress. I gave it to Jessica, from the ship – I hope that's okay – she's going to make you replacements."

"Really?" She let her only remaining dress fall to the floor and stood in her shift. "That's very kind of her; she's never even met me."

"She insisted, after she heard you were responsible for stopping him."

"And what a good job I did of it. How long was I asleep..."

Vash turned the spout shut, drumming fingertips along the edge of the filled tub. "Brad and Jessica stopped by for a few minutes while I was cleaning; they didn't come inside."

"You've been awake this whole time, haven't you. Go and sleep. I can take it from here."

On cue, he yawned. "Well, at least till the girls get here. I'll just...call if you need anything, I'm leaving the door open." His voice trailed away as he left her to it. "Not that I'm going to...I mean, you can call if you need help with anything."

Vanessa finished undressing and smiled as the warm water enveloped her.

OXO

She was too tired to fight her dress, but did manage to get her shift back on. She made her slow, shuffling way over toward the chairs. As her fingers found the back of one, she was startled by a rustling across the room. "Vash..."

More rustling, the dry sound of paper. "Yep."

"Vash, wouldn't you rather be sleeping?" she whispered.

His reply was delayed by a deep breath. "I was laying down to, when I felt your letter in my pocket. I started reading."

Vanessa stepped carefully toward his voice until her shin bumped against the mattress edge. She tentatively seated herself upon the edge.

His weight shifted a little, beside her. "Was it as hard to write as it was to read?"

She rubbed at her arm anxiously, sure he was staring at her, waiting for some grand reply.

After a long pause, he continued. "You lied to me, here."

"It wasn't all lies," she murmured. She reached toward the pages, remembered her lack of sight, dropped her hand. "He didn't hurt me. Doesn't mean he treated me all that well. I do blame myself for Aires, but-"

"It wasn't entirely your fault," he interrupted. "And all for something that 'meant nothing'..."

She felt her cheeks go numb. She clutched at the edge of the mattress. "Didn't mean anything..."

"I'm quoting your letter. It meant something to me."

"Well, that part of the letter was a lie," she insisted, turning her scarred face toward him blindly. "I didn't want to...I just didn't want you to...I wanted you to forget about us. I thought it'd make it easier, for you to move on; forget about me."

"It didn't."

Vanessa wished once more she could see his expression. She felt ashamed, awkward as she sat inches from him on the low, modest bed.

Vash huffed. "I should've gone after you sooner."

"That's not fair," she snapped, keeping her voice low and her face down. "In retrospect, with what I took," she continued, pointing to her temple, "it's clear to me. Things may have worked out. I was getting somewhere. I give myself credit for that, but at least you can agree to give me credit for the lives he didn't take while we were out there."

"You think he'd given up his crusade, for-"

"Not yet," Vanessa countered. "But he would have. I could have worked miracles with the guilt of these cuts, alone. I thought I had no control, but...suffice to say, I know a lot about your brother now."

"Going to go back to your original plan, is that it?" he grumbled, hardly hiding his disgust.

"You'd let me?" She didn't let him answer. "No, Vash, I want to go with this basement prison plan of yours. It's flawed and rough. But I'm starting to get used to it. Like this is one of the better ways this could have worked out – maybe the best."

"You say, sitting there blind and torn up, a room away from him..."

"...Talking to you." When he didn't reply, when the silence went on a few beats too long, she cleared her throat and muttered, "I didn't let myself imagine this would happen again."

His silence endured, every moment adding more tension to her tightening chest. If there was something she could say to express her apology, her determination to preserve his philosophy, she'd have tried. But it was as difficult for her to explain as her feelings for him, if not as difficult for her to fully understand, herself.

Vash did her the favor of ending the tension, not by speaking, but by wrapping his arm around her.

She sighed relief and leaned over, resting a little weight against his shoulder. He sort of heaved a breath. She suddenly remembered how tired he must be. "Lie back," she insisted. To facilitate it, she pulled her legs under her and moved back onto the bed. Vanessa could tell from the movement of the mattress that he'd swung his feet up. Upon reaching her hand toward him, she found his chest with her palm and pressed to encourage him to lie back and relax completely. The quick pace of his heartbeat surprised her.

"They'll be here in a few hours, to invite you to stay with them," he muttered, his voice soft and a little clumsy like a child falling asleep.

It wasn't what she'd expected, that he'd be purposely vague, that he'd leave this open. He was clearly anticipating whatever she wanted to do with the situation. Somehow that was of great comfort. That made her smile. She laughed. "Would it be rude, if I kept the option open without accepting outright?"

Vash yawned. "I think you're entitled to that."

"Excellent." She eased herself around him and laid down very carefully. She was close enough to feel the wind of his breath but not so close as to feel its heat. His hand slid beneath hers, cradling it between them.

"I don't want to sleep right now," he muttered, sounding even more the defiant, sleepy child.

She smirked. "I'll be here when you wake up."