*jingle jingle jingle* *grin grin grin*

*******************************************************************************

Knives sat and stared at Anne, listening to every word she sang with a rapt attention that made his brother slightly uncomfortable. Vash tried to talk to Knives, tried to entice him into some type of conversation but all he got back from his brother were monosyllabic replies. Finally, Vash decided that despite appearances his brother wasn't really at the same table, and sat back to nurse his beer and keep an eye on his son.

Vash was alternately glad and worried over his son's behavior. He was glad that despite his sheltered upbringing Alex seemed to be outgoing. Watching him sit and talk with Mark and that other man made Vash smile, their animated conversation telling him volumes even though he couldn't hear their words.

Whoever Mark's friend was, he hadn't been too excited to have Alex join them in the beginning. His body language had been very uncomfortable, but after only a few minutes he seemed to have warmed to the boy. And Mark seemed to be having a decent time. He looked rather amused, at least.

Vash watched them a few minutes more. He liked Mark, thought that he seemed a decent enough guy. He liked the way that he kept glancing up at Anne, the way that he kept an eye on her not as a keeper, but as a friend. A friend who rather obviously wanted to be more than just a friend, but he didn't push, didn't force Anne to do anything that she didn't want to.

Vash sighed quietly, wishing that the man was just a bit less of a bigot. For all that he liked the man, he couldn't forget that he was currently their ambivalent enemy. Maybe fighting against them, maybe their friend, or maybe he would decide to abstain from whatever his bosses decided, but seeing him sit there was just another reminder that his life could never be normal, never be peaceful.

The thought that people could hate him because he was a plant turned his stomach, and he quickly gulped down the rest of his beer, hoping that the alcohol could dull the pain. He didn't want to be hated, didn't want anything more than to just be left alone to live with the ones he loved.

He wasn't a monster.

The thought that people could be, no, that people were frightened of him made him very uneasy. That they feared him, that they hated him, cut deep. He left Knives at the table and went to get another drink.

In a way, he was glad for the respite, glad that no one was paying attention to him. Too much was going on for anyone to need to worry about him, and it really was only a little depression. He was equally glad to be away from his wife for the moment. Much as he loved Meryl, she would never let him brood. He smiled a bit, recalling her favorite argument for times like this one.

If she could love him, anyone could.

Then the smile faded, and he ordered another beer. He never could figure out why she loved him, why she stayed with him after all these years, after all the pain and heartache he had put her through. It wasn't like he was any great catch; he was no one she could take home to her parents and proudly show off. One broken-down ex-gunslinger, an outlaw with a staggeringly large bounty. He rubbed at the grate on his chest as he made his way back to the table. A woman like her could have a pick of all the men in town. He saw how other guys looked after her, even now, and knew that if she ever came to her senses and left him that she wouldn't have to be alone for long.

He looked at Alex, the living proof of their time together, and he sighed. Then he looked a little more closely at that table, and deserted his brother again.

"Jeremy?" he asked as he got a little closer. "Jeremy, is that you?"

"Hello, Vash," he said calmly.

"What are you doing here? It sure is a small world, isn't it?" Vash nodded to himself and sat down at the last seat. "Do you two know each other well?" he asked as he pointed to Mark and then to Jeremy.

"He's my boss," said Mark.

"Oh!" said Vash perkily, then he repeated the syllable more morosely when he remembered who Mark worked for. He rested his chin in the palm of his hand and looked at Jeremy calmly. "You're the one who wants to kill us."

He put his hands out in a shrug. "It's nothing personal. You're just too powerful to be safe."

"It's very personal to me," Vash muttered.

Alex rolled his eyes and plucked away the beer from in front of Vash and set it on the table behind him. His father looked up, hurt evident in his eyes, but Alex just shook his head. "You'll start singing, next, and you're nowhere near as good as Anne is," he commented.

Vash hung his head, then looked around the table. "So… what are we talking about?" he asked.

"What plants can do," chirped Alex.

Vash got a queasy look on his face and quickly shifted his gaze to the table. "Do… like… Anne's tricks?" he fumbled out.

"Much like," Jeremy affirmed.

Vash squirmed in his chair a bit. "Why do you want to know about that stuff?" he asked as one finger made patterns on the table.

"Because power untempered by responsibility is dangerous. Power used for the common good is less so."

"I'm responsible!" Vash protested. "Very responsible. A father even."

"Responsible with the power that has been granted to you? That has yet to be proven," Jeremy said softly.

Vash hunched his shoulders a little but didn't reply. He didn't want power, would get rid of it if he could. But no one ever seemed to care about that.