Meryl laid her head to rest on Vash's shoulder. Everything was going so wrong. Knives wasn't supposed to be here, not like this. She had thought that she would never have to see him again, had hoped that she could live out the rest of her days without his shadow lying over them. But then, there had been Millie's letter, and then the news from town and the old fear had resurfaced. The horror was back, the monster had come out of the closet once more.
Knives.
She hated herself, hated how his very name could make her shake, she feared him that much. She had thought, when she was younger, that she would never be afraid of anyone. She knew she was tough, knew she was capable. She had been handpicked to find and stop Vash the Stampede, after all. She was one of the best the Bernadelli Insurance Society had to offer, and she had taken pride in the fact. She could face down angry outlaws, confront mobs of townspeople intent on one man's head. A crowd of mind-controlled men intent on her and her partner's death? She had bounced right back, managed to take care of everyone, managed to get everyone to a safe place where they could heal. Another mob intent on blood, but controlled this time by only their own fear? She could handle it, calm them, show them the error of their ways.
She scowled. She had been so sure of herself. She had always managed to rise to the occasion; she had assumed that the same would be the case with Knives. But it hadn't been. Vash had needed to rescue her and Millie from days she would prefer to never have to remember. She had a sneaking suspicion that Vash had struck a deal with his brother that she would not have approved of, but she hadn't asked, and he had never offered the information.
She sighed. Those days, those horrible days where all she could do was cling to whatever shreds of sanity she could gather, those days where her only hope was that Vash would come and save her… she hated that she could be reduced to someone so weak. Knives had systematically stripped her and Millie of every shred of dignity that they had possessed, a process so precise as to be almost clinical. He hadn't needed to; they were well and truly caught, had known it and not resisted. It had just amused him to watch them suffer.
She caught herself shuddering again. She took a deep breath and tried to regain a sense of calm. She was more afraid of her brother-in-law than she was of any other creature in the universe. But she was here all the same, because she knew Vash needed her to be. She was his ground, his center, that which connected him to the rest of the world. Without her, she knew he would just begin to drift through life again instead of living. He would fight his brother, and in a fit of depression stop living again, as if his reluctance to enjoy life were some soft of penance for his brother's misdeeds.
Yes, she knew him well. And she was not about to let that happen to him, no matter what demons she had to face. She scowled. However literally you might want to take that last statement.
Gradually, she noticed that something was wrong with the picture before her. Sure, just seeing that woman made her skin crawl. There was just something wrong with anyone who would remain near Knives for any length of time. Let alone with the way she had been ogling Vash earlier… but there was something wrong. It took her a few moments to figure out what is was.
"Vash? I don't think she's breathing," she whispered, as if saying it quietly might keep it from being true.
"What?" His arms dropped from their accustomed place on her shoulders as he turned to look at Kiley. His right hand hovered flat over her mouth and nose for a moment, then balled into a fist. His eyes met Meryl's. "CPR," he said pretentiously, and leaned over her mouth to begin.
Meryl knocked him on the back of his head. "You do compressions. I'll take care of that."
He shot her a hurt look but complied. The two of them worked on her for only a few moments before Knives rejoined them, wanting to know what they were doing.
"What did you do to her?"
"Nothing. She just wasn't breathing."
"Why?"
"How about you ask her? I don't know." Meryl was glad that she had something else to keep her mouth busy. Otherwise, she just knew she would say something she'd regret. A quick look was shot to the shaded area and she saw a very worried looking child. Her heart lurched, and she wondered just what was so special about this woman that someone would…
It hit her then. Knives was actually worried about her. When he pushed her away to take over the her role in trying to revive the woman she relinquished it without a murmur of protest, too stunned over the revelation. Knives… cared about someone? Enough to care if they died?
It didn't fit in with her image of the man. He wasn't supposed to care about anyone. But as she watched him, saw him snarl at Vash as nothing they did could get her to breathe on her own, she couldn't help but see the fear that drove him.
Knives didn't know fear. He couldn't. He was a monster, someone who made others fear him so he would never have to fear anything. Many long, sleepless nights of trying to figure out how someone could be so intrinsically evil had led to that diagnosis. And now, here… somehow that woman had done what no one else in the history of the world had ever managed.
Somehow, she had gotten to Knives.
Knives and Vash worked on her for fifteen very long minutes. Her pulse stayed even, slightly thready and slow, but never grew weaker or threatened to disappear. It wasn't like she was trying to make them worry; the woman was too tired to breathe for herself, that was all. Knives scowled as he leaned over to breathe for her again. This was a problem he didn't know how to fix.
"Maybe we should get her to a hospital?" offered Vash tentatively as his brother again filled the woman's lungs.
"What are they going to do for her?" he growled, panting as he tried to breathe for two. "Hospitals on this planet are worthless."
"Who's fault is that?" asked Vash, mostly rhetorically. Knives glared at him anyway.
"Am I supposed to care that the humans die?"
Vash raised his hands placatingly. "I'm just saying…"
"Compression, Vash."
Vash put his hands back on her chest and continued. "I'm just saying that actions have consequences, that's all."
"I know this. If we could just get her to my ship…" his voice trailed off and his scowl deepened as the logistics defeated him. Either she would be better or dead long before they could reach their goal. Stupid woman. She should never have let this happen.
Meryl shoved a glass into his hands. He turned his scowl on her. "What, woman?"
"It's sugar water. I thought it might help, if you can get some down her…" her voice barely quavered, but she didn't meet his eyes.
"Sugar?" asked Vash.
"From the top of your donuts," she explained.
"Ah." He looked strangely sad, but got over it.
Knives waved to his brother to stop compressions for a moment, then lifted Kiley's head into his lap. He slowly dribbled the water into her mouth. Most came out again, but he watched her swallow once, twice, three times before he laid her head down on the sand. The brothers breathed for her again, and then Knives tried again.
The cycle repeated until the water was gone. A critical eye assessed Kiley's condition. Her color might have been a little better, but she still wasn't breathing on her own.
His gaze darkened as he looked at her. She was doing this just to annoy him. He was sure of it. The next time he leaned over, instead of just breathing into her mouth, he slipped his tongue in. Her eyes flickered and opened almost halfway in shock and surprise. A soft intake of breath pulled past his lips, and he sat up, grimly pleased. She had been faking it, just like he had thought.
Her gaze sought out his eyes, question apparent.
"I got tired of your lazing about," he said coldly.
"….tired…." she breathed, her eyes losing focus.
"We noticed," he said dryly.
"…thanks…"
"You are worthless dead," he told her, scowling. "Besides, the child likes you."
She closed her eyes again. Knives looked on awhile, to make sure that she continued breathing. When his gaze left her, he noticed that his brother and his pet were staring at him. And that his brother was slowly munching on a very sad looking donut.
"What?" he said waspishly.
"Nothing," said Meryl.
"Nope, nothing," echoed Vash after he swallowed.
"What?" he asked again, this time looking for an answer. Meryl looked off somewhere over his shoulder, than walked past him, giving him a wide berth. He turned to see what she was doing, but she stopped near the child. It was a pathetic and obvious attempt to get to know her. He shook his head and turned his attention back to Vash.
Vash shoved the last of the pastry into his mouth, making an overlarge mouthful. Knives looked on patiently, waiting for his brother to swallow, amused by the look of panic that he saw in his eyes.
"What?" he repeated, quietly, as Vash finally emptied his mouth.
"What what?"
"Don't play the fool."
"Play?"
Knives sighed. "You are obviously thinking something. I want to know what it is."
Vash's gaze drifted up towards the sky. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Avoiding the subject will not make it go away."
"Why not?"
Knives stared at his brother, unwilling to get drawn into verbal procrastination.
Vash sighed and looked down at his hands. "I just never thought I would see you work to save a human. It surprises me and gladdens me at the same time."
"I'm still going to kill her later," he reminded his brother.
"If you say so."
"What?"
"What what?"
"Stop that. What do you mean, if you say so?"
Vash lifted his gaze to meet his brother's. "You worked really hard to save her just now. It just seems hardly believable that you would turn around and kill her later."
Knives shifted uncomfortably. "She is still useful to me now. You fix your tools when they get broken. That's all it is."
"I guess. I suppose it's too much to hope for, that you might change."
"I would only change if I happened to be wrong."
"Oh, like that never happens."
Knives scowled. "It doesn't."
"Oh yeah? What about the time with the truck and the ants?"
"I wasn't wrong. Merely mistaken."
"Sure you were."
"You didn't stop me before I did that. It was your fault too."
"How does that work? It was still your idea."
"It was a good idea…"
"Other than being totally wrong?" Vash grinned. "Sure."
Knives leaned over and pushed his shoulder. "Oh, like you're perfect?"
"Never said I was," he laughed, emphasizing the I.
Knives sniffed and looked up at the sky. "I'm practically perfect," he said pretentiously.
"Except for the truck and the ants thing."
Knives glance at his brother before scanning the heavens again. "The exception that proves the rule, of course."
"Actually, there was that time with the dogs, too…"mused Vash.
"Hush."
Vash grinned. "That's what family is for. To remind you of these things that might otherwise slip your mind."
"Have I tried to kill you yet today?"
"Actually, yes. You'll have to wait until tomorrow to try again."
"Damn."
The brothers lapsed into a companionable silence. Vash carefully refrained from pointing out that it was their first comfortable moment together in over a hundred years. Maybe it was the fact that both of them were too tired to want to fight, but just being near each other without having to be on the defensive was nice, nicer than words could frame. And since they were guys, they just accepted the moment, needing no words to define it, to hold it to its shape and form something that could be seized. It was enough that it simply was. Sometimes it was best to just let things be what they were.
Knives stopped sitting all hunched over Kiley. He sat up straight, stretched out his spine, then leaned back, arms holding his weight as he looked up to the sky, elbows locked for stability. It seemed like forever and a day had passed since the morning, but the suns were still high overhead. He turned his head slightly so the light from the suns would strike him full on. Eyes closed, he basked in the weak warmth they bestowed on the planet.
He heard Vash shift his weight, cloth rustling against sand. One eye opened a slit to asses the new position. His brother now lay on his stomach, chin propped on the backs of his hands. He looked curiously at Kiley's face, eyes tracing the line of her jaw. Knives turned his head a little more and watched his brother look at the woman. His green eyes held no hint of shame as he stared, but as soon as he caught Knives' eye he blushed and looked away.
"Why stop now?" he asked, a hint of humor laced through his words.
"It's embarrassing, having you stare at me." Vash's tone showed his discomfort.
"But it's alright for you to stare at her?"
"She's not looking back," he mumbled.
"She's not some strange specimen. She's just a human."
"She's sort of pretty," he mused, almost on the topic, but not quite. "But she's really too skinny."
"You only say that because Meryl has put on some weight recently."
"I do not!" Vash's head came up, hands flay on the sand, weight shifted forward to give him more mobility.
"It was a joke," Knives said flatly. "Come to think of it… you look like you have put on a little weight as well. Are only your cheeks getting chubby, or was it rather difficult to squeeze into that body armor this morning, too?"
Vash's eyes narrowed, but he flopped back down into the sand. This time his nose drew close to Kiley's hand, and he examined it in detail. The little hairs on the back of her hand near the wrist seemed to fascinate him.
Knives leaned over to look at her other hand, but could not see what had captured his brother's attention. He lifted his head to ask, and caught Vash grinning at him. "Made you look."
"You are so infantile," he sighed, then lay back into the sand. His thoughts wandered for a few moments, then fixated on a niggling detail. He tried to ignore it, but it would not leave him alone. He closed his eyes tight and suppressed a sigh, then sat up again. He grasped Kiley's hand in his, feeling for warmth in her fingers. Then he felt her neck, and slipped a hand under her shirt, laying it over her heart.
Vash stared at him, eyes open wide. Knives' eyes narrowed in response, and he stood up.
"What?" asked Vash as he walked away. He sat up and watched his brother get something from the packs at the base of one of the spires. He came back with a brightly patterned blanket, which he proceeded to drape over the prone form of the woman. Surprising his brother even more, he crawled under the blanket with her, cradling her in his arms.
"What are you doing?" whispered Vash. He didn't realize he had spoken out loud until his brother's head lifted from it's place behind Kiley so he could glare at him.
"She said something a while back. Something about how doing too many tricks would send her into energy shock. I think that's what this is, and if so, she needs a bit more help than to be merely sat by while she's unconscious." His head dropped into the sand again.
Vash reached out his right hand and tentatively grabbed the other edge of the blanket. Waiting for a reaction from his brother that never came, he slid underneath and cradled his body against hers. His brother moved his arm from where it had been lying over her stomach, and he relaxed a little. He wasn't going to be yelled at. Good.
He realized why his brother hadn't felt that the blanket would be enough as the chill from the woman soaked through his armor. Strange to think of someone suffering from hypothermia while lying out in the sun, but that seemed to be the case here.
"Energy shock?" he asked quietly.
"I'm not entirely sure what it is. But this is a good bet."
"But…"
Knives sighed, and Vash could feel the heaving of his chest through Kiley. "She uses the same energy for these tricks as she does every other bodily function. It's caloric. She's not like us. She has limits, and she doesn't seem to respect them."
Vash didn't have to see his brother to know he was scowling. He let that topic drop, and fought with himself, curious beyond good sense, yet still trying to retain a shred of intelligence. It was a long, hard fought battle, but in the end, curiosity won.
Like it always did.
"Knives…" Common sense tried its best to reassert itself, and Vash's voice trailed off. But the damage was already done.
"What?"
"Nothing, really."
"What, Vash?" Knives wasn't going to let him off easily.
He sighed, and gave over the battle. "Why did you kiss her?"
"Why did I what?" asked Knives calmly.
"Um… kiss her? I saw you. I know you did."
"That wasn't a kiss."
"Uh. Ok." Vash didn't know what to say next, so let the subject drop.
Knives, however, couldn't. "I was getting tired of that damn CPR. I began to wonder if she was faking it. So I startled her."
"Faking not breathing?" Vash sat very still, barely breathing the question.
"Well, she started breathing on her own after, so I'd say it worked."
Vash mumbled something.
"Speak up, Vash."
"Nothing."
A heavy silence.
"I just said 'Kiss of life.' That's all."
"It wasn't a kiss. I don't engage in personal contact with vermin."
Another loaded silence.
"The current situation is not exactly what it looks like."
"Of course not, Knives."
They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, both brothers trying very hard to not think about what they were doing at the moment.
Time passed, and maybe they dozed, but Vash was suddenly brought back to awareness by a shadow falling over his face. He blinked a few times to clear his vision, then looked up to see the irritated visage of his one true love.
"Just what… do you think you're doing?" she asked him calmly.
"Um… this isn't quite what it looks like."
"That's good. What it looks like would get you in a great deal of trouble. Now tell me just what it is, and we'll see if I have to drag you back to December by your ear or not."
"She's in shock. Her body temperature is very low, and we're trying to keep her warm."
Meryl looked them over critically. "You look like a litter of puppies," she said while she leaned over. She lay one hand on Kiley's forehead, then frowned. "You're right. She's not doing very well." She stood up and brushed her hands, one against the other, a brisk, dismissive movement. Then she turned and walked back to Ace.
Vash craned his neck and watched her go, wondering what had happened between the two of them, to make Meryl so cold. He got a crick in his neck looking after her, so he let it fall back to its former position while he brooded. Hearing his brother chuckle didn't help his mood any.
"She has a big spirit for such a tiny thing," he said musingly.
Vash stiffened. "What did you say?"
"You heard me." He could also hear the scowl.
"Say it again."
"She has a big spirit for such a tiny thing? What? What is your problem now?"
"Nothing," Vash said, grinning. "I think that is the first time you didn't say something completely and totally nasty about my wife."
A pause. "I hate it when you refer to her in that fashion."
"What? My wife? She is."
"You don't have to rub my nose in it."
"I hardly rub your nose in it. It's not like we get together for family reunions or anything. You hardly ever see her. Which is a good thing," he said, musingly.
"Family reunions? You ever introduce her to the rest of her in-laws? See her turn her head away in fear and revulsion? One of my favorite memories, truly."
"She had never seen a plant angel before. She has gotten over that."
"You don't just get over a phobia, Vash. You carry them with you forever."
"She isn't the person you used to torture. She's grown past that girl."
"Around her, I would say."
Vash sighed. "I wish you wouldn't insult her."
"Why?"
"It's demeaning, both to her, who I love, and to me. You think I don't know that she has weaknesses? I live with her, Knives. I see her every day. I know her much better than you ever could, and you act like I don't know who she is. You're the one who has no place to talk."
"Truth hurts?" asked Knives coldly.
"I have yet to hear you say much that is truth."
Their spat was interrupted by the arrival of Meryl. Her arms were full as she juggled blankets and Ace, carefully managing to not drag or drop either.
"Here," she said, then proceeded to strip the blanket from over the brothers. Both sets of shoulders tightened at the same instant, and two pairs of eyes sought out hers, equally confused.
Despite herself, Meryl laughed. Fight all they want, they still reacted so alike to the basics. It was when things got complicated that they were so different. She frowned, remembering.
"Ace, into Knives' arms," she commanded, then helped rearrange Kiley so that she could remain nestled comfortably between the plants. Then she layered blankets over the group, starting from the feet and working her way up the body, swaddling the group.
"Um, Meryl?" asked Vash. "I'm really hot here."
"Good. Then maybe she'll get warm. We aren't exactly equipped to deal with shock, here, so we're just going to have to improvise." She finished with the pile of blankets, then stood back and eyed them critically. "That will have to do," she proclaimed, then picked up a corner of the pile and slid into Vash's arms. He relaxed after slipping his arms around her.
She had done a good job. The lady finally began to warm up at his back. The heat of their bodies made him drowsy, and his eyes slid closed. He felt Meryl cuddle into his arms, her body arranging itself to fit his with the ease of long practice. He curled around her, then was struck by a passing odd thought.
The woman behind him wasn't relaxed. She was unconscious, but she still managed to hold herself stiffly against them. Why? What had happened that made it impossible for her to be entirely comfortable around others, to never let herself be vulnerable? Was it something his brother had done to her? No, it didn't seem to be. If that were the case, she'd be cringing away from him, but she was equally stiff to everyone. What could have hurt her so much that defensiveness had become an integral part of her very being?
The rest of the day passed, and the night as well. Kiley didn't wake, and the others stayed by her, save for a few trips outside the blankets to take care of personal needs before crawling back. The day had drained everyone. Ace, obviously, was tired because of her ill-conceived action. Her natural exuberance was muted, and she cuddled between Knives and Kiley, willing to rest. Stress had taken its toll on Meryl, stress of the journey, stress of the days before it, stress of the meeting, and just plain old, having-to-deal-with-Knives stress. The chance to curl up in Vash's arms and let go of the day was a blessing to her. Knives and Vash had both been drained by their fight and by what Kiley had taken from them to heal Ace.
The end result was a big, warm pile of sleepiness. The moons rose and set, mostly unheeded, save by the sad soul crawling out into the desert night to take care of personal business. Such moments were quickly concluded, and the warmth of the group was sought again.
It was that fuzzy area between moonset and dawn when Kiley finally awoke. She felt horrible, her head muzzy, her tongue swelled to fill her entire mouth and coated with slime. Her joints ached, her bones ached, her muscles ached, her entire body felt like one big bruise from head to foot. But it meant that she was still alive, so she stifled any complaints she might have been tempted to make.
Carefully, barely moving, she stretched out her muscles, wincing at the pain that movement caused. The waste products, the broken down leftovers of used cells and proteins, made their presence felt. She was too dehydrated for her kidneys to work properly, which left the toxins all over her body. Carefully and slowly, as only a person in pain can move, trying to not wake any of the warm bodies around her, she wriggled out of the cocooned mass of blankets and limbs and crawled over to the water.
She stuck her face in and slowly guzzled as much as her stomach could hold, one slow mouthful at a time. She eased each bit of water past her swollen tongue, carefully letting it trickle down the back of her throat, repeating the process until her stomach was swelled with liquid.
Tired out by the action, she rolled over and watched the last of the stars disappear into the dawn. The chill of the hour seeped into her bones, but she didn't have the energy to crawl back to the group. Her eyes closed of their own accord, and she mused over what she had heard yesterday. The hurtful words, the hateful words… they each stabbed her, little arrows that were shot into her heart.
She drew the pain to her, welcomed it. Pain meant she could feel, meant she wasn't dead inside after all. A moan escaped her, an animal response to hurt too much too bear. She clamped down on the feeling, tried to divorce her heart from the rest of her, but she was too tired to have much success. The sharp, shooting pain of her broken heart was only muted to a dull, throbbing pain.
She couldn't pinpoint the time that she had fallen for Knives, but it was obvious now to her that she had. Maybe it was the way that he never backed down when she got angry. Maybe it was his cute, cautious overtures as he held her in his arms. Maybe it was the way that he got that sad, pensive look when he thought no one saw him. Maybe it was the way he looked when he played with Ace, the way that happiness transformed his features from foreboding to friendly.
Maybe it was just pheromones. Breath hissed out of her in a sigh. But if what she felt was merely a chemical reaction, why did it hurt so much? Why did the thought of having to go out in this world and build a life without him in it give her the chills? Was she too much a coward to face this world on her own? Or had she just found the person she wanted to face it with?
She sighed again. Not that her feelings mattered much. Despite recent developments, she still wasn't a likely recruit to Knives' crusade. What did she care of other plants, other than a bit of pity? She still felt as human as she ever had; her loyalties shouldn't be divided. But… they were. A little. It's hard to ignore the faceless suffering of others when the visage of the sufferer could easily be your own face. Maybe she had been wrong… but that didn't make him right. Slaughter is never right, no matter how pure your motives.
She closed her eyes more tightly, dismissing images from her past. No, indiscriminate killing is never the answer. But what is? If the plants are needed for survival, what are the humans supposed to do? Just lay down and die? That would never happen, nor should it.
Why did it have to be just one or the other, plants or humans? Why couldn't there be some other solution? Why did she have to come up with it?
She was just a killer. Not a bloody genius, fit to solve a problem that spanned centuries. Why didn't someone else come along and come up with the answer? Why did it seem to have to be her? She was no one, knew nothing. Her time here could still be measured in days, and she was supposed to be able to fix things?
Of course, the options facing her if she failed were grim. No one else seemed interested in reconciliation. Only her. There was no one else willing to try. So if she couldn't find a resolution, it would be death and killing all over again. She wasn't willing to let that happen, but equally could not see how she was supposed to be able to stop it from happening.
