Ok, this is a bit short… but it was, at one point, only 300 words.
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Anne lay between them, delighting in the heat that radiated off their bodies, luxuriating in it. She was cold, so cold, and they were so warm and wonderful. And healing her. That in and of itself was a wonderful concept. Someone cared enough about her to work to keep her alive. Healing wasn't easy, not on the healer. It required a great degree of skill and concentration, and an even greater expenditure of energy on the part of the healer than one might expect. And there were two people willing to work that hard on her behalf. Two people who cared enough about her that they didn't want her to die.
What a lovely concept. So new, so wonderful. Was this what is was like, to have friends? A family? It was nice. She could get used to something like this.
She wondered if they had any idea how incredibly intimate a healing could be. Feeling someone else's energies pooling under your skin, cradling you, helping you… There was a reason that she always knocked people out before she healed them, and it wasn't because healing hurt. It was just… slightly embarrassing to be that close to someone that you might not even know. And even when she did know them, it was still embarrassing. Too close, too much of herself was exposed. It's easiest to not be hurt if no one knows what will hurt you. It was no fun to heal someone that you know hated you, hated the thought of you. To be that close to someone who loathed you was a horrible thing indeed. It was much safer to just knock them out and not have to deal with the consequences of getting close to someone. Of getting close to anyone.
Vaguely, she acknowledged that she might have some intimacy issues.
Whether or not they knew how close they were to her, they were being very gentle. She didn't know if it was on purpose, or if they were just being extra careful because they hadn't had much practice. She smiled lazily, basking under their ministrations. She had known how badly off she was; how could she not? But she had been handling it. Mostly. Ok, maybe she had been dying. But she wasn't now. Now she felt good. How could you not feel wonderful when two gorgeous men were holding you and trying to make you feel better? And when one of them was the man you loved?
Some of her good mood could be ascribed to the lack of pain, as one of the first things that Knives had done was block off the receptors in her brain. She went from excruciating pain to nothing at all. That would be enough to put anyone in a good mood. But, even better, he had flooded her system with endorphins, and she just felt all lazy and happy. If she had been asked to create her own personal heaven, this might have come close to her design. Only… without Vash. And with her more… mobile. But, all things considered, and given where she was just a few hours ago, life was good. For one sweet, wonderful stretch of time, life was wonderful.
Some things should never end, and yet, all things do.
After a few hours, Knives finished up his task of patching her back together. Vash was still working on her legs as he pulled his mind out and opened his eyes. Anne pressed a little closer to him, finally warm enough now to radiate heat instead of just sucking it off of him and Vash. He slipped his hands from her shoulders and rolled over, pressing his back to hers before passing out.
She blinked, unsure of that reaction. Didn't he… want to hold her? Was he that mad? Did he hate her that much for what she had done? No, he had probably decided that whatever feelings he might have had for her were a temporary madness. That her leaving had been a good thing, giving him time to realize just what a mistake he had been making. All the arguments she had told herself when years passed and he had never shown up, never followed after her crashed down on her in an instant.
She sighed and bit her lip. Probably. They were probably going to all this trouble because she was just a plant. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back. Fine. So what if she was? So what if that was the only reason Knives cared about her at all? That was fine. She could handle that. She had been coping with that concept for years, so why did it bother her even more now that it looked like it was true? Was it so hard for her to be right?
Only a moron would like a person like her, anyway. And Knives wasn't stupid.
She mentally listed all her faults, going down the well-worn list and agonizing over all the flaws in her character. Liar. Killer. Unable to get close to people. Social misfit. Coward. It was no wonder people didn't like her, that no one wanted to get close to her, or ran away when they realized what she was. She would run away, too, but that was never an option. Wherever she went, she was always there. Polluting the area with her presence.
Sniff.
Vash finished up and pulled away from her as well, rolling over before he fell asleep, unconscious in an instant. She felt very alone in her bed, nestled between two people who would work so hard to save her, then leave her to cry alone.