Millie stuck out her lower lip. "Mr. Brad and Jessica were here? Oh, I would have liked to say hello."
"That's hardly the most important part of their visit," Meryl scoffed.
"Of course, what was I thinking. Did they look well, Mr. Vash?"
Vash laughed, leaning dangerously far back in his chair. "Yeah, they were in good health. And good spirits."
"Well, they would be, given the ships are arriving within the week!" Meryl exclaimed. "We're finally going to get to live like civilized people!"
"On Earth," Vanessa whispered, barely noticed by the happy folk around the table with her.
"Earth," Vash repeated.
"You're coming, the both of you, with us? Oh, say you will!"
He paused, and his smile softened. "Millie, I don't think we can be sure of that yet. But if everything goes well..."
"Then, yes, we will," Vanessa chimed in, lifting her face a bit so that the dull light caught on the strings of her stitches.
"That's wonderful," Millie announced as she threw her hands up. "After all, this is no planet to start a family on, when there's a choice of places, that is."
Meryl saw Vash's face brighten in a blush, and waved her hand dismissively at Millie. "Nobody's talking about starting a family."
"Really? But they'd have such pretty children!" Millie beamed.
"Boy, it's getting late," Meryl started, eager to change the subject. "Not to mention you need to get a head start on those letters you need to write!"
"Oh my gosh, I sure do! Well, Mr. Vash, Miss Vanessa, thank you for having us over, I guess we'll be over to visit later this week."
"Day after tomorrow, we'll be over after dinner, that's fine, Vash?" Meryl hurriedly planned as she pulled on her jacket and ushered Millie toward the door.
"Oh, yes," Vash agreed, face still red as the door latched closed behind them. Each rickety step creaked softly as he stepped back down into the basement room, toward her. He crossed the small, cool room and slowly sat back down.
"Vash, about this starting-a-family thing..."
He waved his hand dismissively despite her lack of sight. "We don't need to talk about that, now."
"Might as well. It's your business to know, now," Vanessa explained, idly itching a black thread on the bridge of her nose. "I'm barren."
For a few moments, Vash wondered what the correct reply would be. He'd express empathy, but she seemed fairly indifferent about it. He thought he might offer some support that he didn't want to have children anyway, but that was a lie. Really, he felt sick and, he realized, disappointed. But that was hardly a thing to admit. So, he simply said, "Oh."
"Well, I'm glad I got that off my chest," she continued, smiling slightly, blindly. "We can move forward, now, assuming you still want to be with me."
He chuckled, since she meant it as a joke. After all, he felt he did want to be with her. Despite her scars, her past, her limitations and shortcomings. "Nothing will make me change my mind," he assured, closing his hand over hers, as they sat a tabletop apart.
OXO
Vash woke late on his third day in the musty dwelling and commenced with daily chores. Vanessa stayed in bed a while longer than he, seemingly deep in thought but unwilling to move yet. When she finally rose and felt her way to the bathroom, Vash tugged off their bedding to replace with fresh linens.
He was ready to wash them in the multi-purpose tub when she'd finished cleaning up, and he heard her seat herself upon the closed toilet behind him as he started dousing their laundry. As he scrubbed sudsy clothing, he glanced over his shoulder. She was once again wringing her hands, fidgeting ferociously. He'd seen this get worse over the past couple of days, seemingly less from boredom than anxiety. The sounds of him washing were making her hands tense moreso, a hint that not being able to perform simple chores like laundry was itself a source of stress for her.
"Those dresses Jessica brought you, they're really pretty."
"Are they?" she murmured, patting softly at the itchy stitches along her neck.
He shook his head at himself. "They are. I'm glad you were ok letting them in. Brad, in particular, was happy to meet you again. He said he admired your strength, you know."
"I do. I heard," she smirked sadly, pointing at her sensitive ears. "How many days of medication do we have left?"
He grunted when a small splash of soapy water struck him in the eye. "Plenty, don't worry."
"Plenty of propof...The one labeled Milk of Amnesia? We'll need-"
"Don't worry," he repeated. He didn't want to talk about it. He especially didn't want to 'fess up that he'd stopped administering propofol once he observed the euphoric side effect it had on his brother. That simply wouldn't do. Instead, he upped the lorazepam dosage, which made Knives nauseous and dizzy when conscious enough to use telepathy. It was more fitting.
After several moment's silence, Vanessa continued, "The Milk-of is the most important. It's effective and if he's cognizant at all, he'll probably enjoy the experience. Won't want to escape so much as get the next dose, which-"
"Vanessa," Vash near-snapped as he wrung out a sheet. He stood to hang it from one of the lines he'd hung above the tub. "I wonder what kind of accommodations the Earth ships will have," he mused as cheerfully as he could.
"Hmph." She pulled her knees to her chin. "The humanity of this planet, crammed into a tin can. I do hope it's spacious, maybe that will help improve their...behaviors."
"Oh, everyone will be happy for the promise of Earth. Plus, the people – the crew, I guess – they're coming as a rescue crew. They should be equipped for things to be rough here. It's not like they have to feed everyone that well or give people feather beds to keep order."
"Perhaps you're right. Or perhaps you give them too much credit."
"You don't have to go if you don't want to."
Vash finished hanging the rest of the clothing up to dry as the sudsy water rushed down the drain. He began to feel a little bad for the comment, as her silence drug on.
The apology was forming on his lips when she padded out on bare feet, and with a sigh he followed her out. She was standing with her forehead pressed against a cold, concrete wall, and he didn't have words for her yet. Vash gathered up the supplies by the sink and disappeared into his brother's room to clean and such.
An hour later, he emerged and immediately worked at rinsing off his arms at the sink. After a deep breath, he approached Vanessa again. He knelt in front of her, as she sat hunched at the side of the bed, rifling through the side table.
Her reddened face bowed low. Stitched and uninjured fingers alike slid over little bottles, studying them, searching for some hint they wouldn't offer. It became too hard to watch her struggle with the things she couldn't see, and he reached for the bottle in her hand.
Vanessa tugged it away. "You have to mark these so I can read them somehow," she insisted in a low, hissing whisper. "Mark my words, I'll have to do this myself."
"No, you won't, I'll be here to do it." He rested fingertips softly on the back of her hand. "Until we both escape his nightmare, it's my job."
"My job is to be grateful to be saved, and silently sit in a pretty dress?"
"Vanessa." Vash ran his hand through his hair. "Don't let my lousy attitude get to you. I was being mean. This is all stressing me out a lot, too, and I'm probably not handling it well. Listen, this one's the Milk stuff."
She palmed the cool bottle, breathing out slowly. Her other hand accepted the syringe Vash offered.
"Fill that one; I'll tell you when to stop. There you go. We'll keep a few of these prepped in this spot right here. Yeah, there, on top of the sack there. Those are yours, for if he – or anyone – gets out of hand. Okay?"
Vanessa nodded slightly. She finished with three syringes under his direction, which she set upon the tabletop.
"Nothing to worry about. I promise."
She nodded again. "It's not that I don't trust you. It's hard to wait, but that's what we're doing, I suppose."
"Pretty much. At least we have each other while we wait." He arranged the prepped syringes in the top drawer. "Now, I have a special dinner planned. We'll have a nice meal and we're not going to talk about impending, historic things. Just things that make us happy. And we'll go to bed early."
"That does sound nice. We haven't spent nearly enough time in bed, for my taste."
Vash closed the drawer and seated himself beside her. He wound his arm round her waist. "We should probably keep it down, tonight, though," he muttered. "Last night the...mm, volume...was a bit loud."
Vanessa smirked. "Oh, do you think the neighbors heard? Really?"
"I was referring more to our 'roommate' than our neighbors," he replied in a mumble.
"Him. Frankly, if he's conscious to hear it, so be it. I hope that asshole heard everything."
"Oh." Vash cleared his throat and moved his fingers gently along the curve of her. "Honestly, I guess I feel about the same."
She pressed herself closer against him. "I think we've put up with too much, to self-censor. Don't you think?"
He kissed her in a slow, lingering way. He didn't exactly agree with her, but he certainly wouldn't argue. Each day, it became easier to dose his twin with weak mixes of drugs with powerfully negative side effects in lieu of the softer, deeper medications. It became easier for his lust and affection for her and his disgust and hatred of his twin to coexist within him.