Aiming To Wound


What a tiring time. Meryl definitely needed a shower after all she'd been through. She had spent all night alternately crying, bitching, and typing, all because of that stupid, lame excuse for a man, and then she had to put up with his psycho brother messing with her friend! Oh, okay, Meryl relented; she didn't have to cry, bitch, or type for Vash. But said psycho brother was bound to get on her nerves more than once. Really.

Her grip on the robe she picked up tightened fiercely. Her whitening knuckles began to blend in with the soft fabric. Who the hell does he think he is? He's no more special than any of us "mere humans!"

Ahhh, but this could be no time to get angry; she had to keep her wits about her, for her sake, and Milly's, and Vash's. And stupid Knives's too, although she wouldn't have minded pushing him off the edge of a nice, steep cliff. Watching him scream all the way down to his painful, rocky death below... Sweet, sweet revenge. Meryl graciously smiled at this.

She made quick work of her clothes and donned the robe, then headed to the bathroom. The sandsteamer event seemed so far away... probably because it was, though. More than two years had gone by so far. So fast! Turning on the water, Meryl thought back to the first bullet Vash ever fired in her presence, at Mr. Cliff's house. Straight into her heart, despite all her protests to the contrary. All his boisterous, mouthy showmanship had been more than a nuisance back then, and it was certainly no different now! Rationally, it shouldn't have affected her so, and yet... BANG! He shot with a smile, never knowing where he aimed. When he looked up to see her more than exaggerated expression, he frowned, not knowing what he had done or why it had happened. He could only wonder, although briefly, if some of his purported extravagant gunman flair had somehow worked. But not on this apparently straight-laced, hardworking insurance woman, Meryl Stryfe; not her.

Never her.

She turned the knobs the other way to off, for whoever had just knocked on the door would surely take up more than a bit of her time. Grumbling internally, she knew it was most likely him, the fool, come to disturb her further. It'd be just like him, showing up at such a time!

She twisted the doorknob and opened the door. Sure enough, it was him. Appearing straight and tall before her in a man's everyday wear, looking down upon her with the same mercurial blue-green eyes, he stood. And she looked back up at him in her fluffy robe, with steady violet eyes that questioned everything she saw. All she saw now was him.

Another memory came up from the depths just then; she remembered the way they two stared at each similarly for the first time, he with a towel over his head and she acceptably worried about his well-being. Her job. Yet more than petty occupation, Meryl had grown to care for her charge. Nowhere in her contract with Bernardelli did it state that she had to make friends with those involved in every case she was sent out on. And any other time, the cases didn't involve following a nigh-homicidal lunatic halfway across the world.

So he wasn't that deranged. He turned out to be a rather nice, if goofy fellow who always solved the problems that he or others got into, and without taking a life. Except for the one faltering moment that made him all the more human, he protected more than he harmed (if you didn't count property damage).

That first time seeing Vash so open and exposed with his scars in plain sight had made her pause, and really reconsider who she thought this man was. He couldn't be a mere bumbling fool whose scars had come about as a result of his supposed blundering. As more days passed to allow her to see what sort of person he was, she came to realize the deliberate way he handled everything. His scars were not from mistakes, but rather from the choices he had to make. A piece of his skin, or someone's life? With those sort of options, it was easy to see the result.

She felt pride for him, and his scars.

The moment stretched on. He had turned the somber situation into one of comedy by acting embarrassed over his strange revelation. Though he was embarrassed, as he thought his body would only scare off the girls, she had to strongly disagree with him there. Any girl in her right mind should understand why he got those scars, and be proud of him like she was, and...

Well, her protestations, though not all of them vocal, only increased the embarrassment. She wished she could have told him, could have explained without making things so incredibly awkward...

"We should make a habit of meeting each other before and after showering."

Meryl blinked. What? Then she got angry. Of all the--!

"What do you want?" she asked irritably.

He smiled gently. Vash knew better than to argue with her.

"I just wanted to talk to you. May I come in?" But he was already moving past her into the room, so she just let him go by then shut the door. He looked around a moment, then chose to sit on the bed, a move she wouldn't have considered odd had she not been dressed in just a robe.

What are you thinking, Meryl? Get a hold of yourself, woman, it's just Vash! It's not like he's trying to... to... Before she made herself blush, she stopped thinking about it and said,"You wanted to talk to me about something?"

He nodded. "Milly told me you approved of moving everyone to another town. She's making lunch now, by the way." He smiled to lighten the mood a bit, noticing how Meryl seemed a bit tense.

"It's still a good idea, you know; I don't know how long these folks will stand having us around." Trying to make me feel better, hmm? I'll show him, Mister "I Prance Around In Pants And A Towel!" Meryl deigned to take a seat beside Vash, a move that would no doubt have sent his precious twin into conniptions.

I'd love to see that too!

"So it's all right with you, Vash-san?"

He nodded again. "You're right; I think we might soon wear out our welcome." Though true be told, they both knew it had already worn out ever since Vash's identity became public knowledge in town. The townsfolk kept from mobbing again out of fear that the terrible Diablo would turn his icy blue stare upon them and decide their time was up.

Vash the Stampede murders anyone and everyone he sees, women and children even. Didn't you know that? Better run, I see him coming... What fools.

Meryl smiled at him to keep such dark thoughts from her face, and his knowledge. Perhaps it was his lesson to her, that a smile could keep anything at bay; perhaps she already knew it, but she'd rather think of it as his lesson than admit she covered things up with a mask from the beginning. It was probably because his style was more effective.

Damn it! What am you doing? He's started being truthful, and you want to mess that up by glossing things over? Get a clue, Meryl!

"Well then! It looks like I'll have to be packing up my things after all." She made to stand, but stopped when she felt his warm palm pressing against her cheek softly. She looked from the corner of her eye at it; something so inviting, yet completely foreign, did not belong this near to her. He had no right, no privilege... And what's more, he'd not asked, and therefore could not be entitled to...

"Thank you." With that said, Vash leaned forward and kissed her other cheek. Her mouth might have worked to speak had she not been so surprised.

He leaned back. He smiled, also gently, in his endearingly honest and open manner.

She blinked. She spoke.

"We already said our thank yous, Vash-san. There's no need for that."

"No. But I could anyway."

He rose and left her to sit upon her bed in her white fluffy robe with just a tad bit of shock evident on her face. But just a bit.

In the shower, under the fast rain of hot, rejuvenating water, Meryl thought, What is he getting at? This morning I admitted my feelings for him, and he accepted it. He said he couldn't return the same, but I expected as much. Really, what did you think you'd get from him?

She turned the water off, and stepped out. She reached for a towel and dried herself. Then he kisses you on the cheek in front of Milly, and Knives... He's trying to prove a point to him. His brother cannot be the one who makes his decisions; Vash's life and Knives's life are separate though joined through their bond.

Some bond. What a pair of siblings.


She donned black slacks and a white blouse, her clothes plain yet functional, just the way she liked it. But now this kiss on the cheek. He says he can't say the words you've told him, yet twice he's been forward. Well, not completely forward, but...

But what if it leads to that?


Meryl paused. He wouldn't do that. He's too much of a prude for that. But she rolled her eyes. Pot calling the kettle black.

No, Vash wouldn't. He's not ready for anything like that, I'm sure of it.


"I'm sure." And with that said, Meryl walked out with that same air of confidence that buoyed her for the rest of the day.