You know, though it would seem really great to get a random day off during an otherwise normal school schedule, it doesn't really hope if you don't know ahead of time and therefore plan accordingly. How am I supposed to put all my homework to be done at the last minute if I get another twenty-four hours after it's done? I'm not really complaining, I just wish I hadn't been forced to use most of today to do homework for tomorrow anyway. Man, that's unfair. Well, I'm sure you could care less about my little complaints, so let's get to the good stuff! By the way, I was extremely pleased with the immediate response you guys are giving me! Oh, I'm basking in the review love. It's soooo wonderful receiving reviews, it gives me focus and helps me write! So this ones for all my lovely reviewers!
Disclaimer: If there were a way to own these characters, I'd have figured it out by now. I love Vash, yet he doesn't belong to me! No, so sad!
*****
Take My Hand
Part 2
*****
When I believe in you my
soul can rest
But as love that's really love can
never fail
But fail it does
When we shine like the sun
You seem the only one
My only friend
-Bush, Inflatable
It's amazing how quickly you can forget the way life once was when you are forced to change the way you live due to some complication. You forget to appreciate those things in your life that become better, as you soon look at them not as improvements, but as simply the way things have always been. A hungry child on the streets will forget his hunger soon enough if you take him in, feed him constantly, and teach him not to worry about whether or not he'll have a constant supply of sustenance. It's not that we forget how life once was; we simply choose not to think about it, as it was not nearly as happy as our lives have become. It works differently when there are bad changes in one's life, but if you put a well fed child on the streets to fend for himself, it will soon be hard for him to recall what it was like to have plenty, though he'll try desperately to cling to those memories of happy times past. Whatever the change is, it's hard to go back. I think that is especially true for when a person gains something, some happy piece of life. To put a child who was once starving back on the street after letting him know the pleasure of constantly being fed makes it more difficult on the child to experience his sad existence than before, when he knew not what his life could be like.
After only two weeks since I brought him home with me, it was hard for me to recall just what life had been like without Vash in my home. Was it worse? Perhaps in some small measure, if you were stingy, you might think I'd dislike suddenly having to feed two people, one of who had a ridiculous pastry obsession, as well as increasing my budget to include all the everyday needs of a man. To me, it didn't seem like that much of a change in my financial situation. I really made more money than I alone needed as it was. Maybe you would think I disliked losing my privacy, having to share my space with another person, not only another person, but a man. My modesty was at stake every time I dared to change my clothes or to wash myself. But I didn't mind the new environment. You see, as I said, I did grow up with two brothers, and I was used to living with men in my home, so it was really no problem. I liked knowing that he was always there, in fact. I think it made me feel as though, since he did opt to stay with me, that maybe he cared for me. I know it's a silly hope to have, but besides the fact that I was feeding him and keeping him warm and clothed, why would he stay with me? I knew that it stung his sense of selflessness to accept my help, but I admit that he paid me back at least tenfold, though not in the way you may think.
Imagine the difference in my life, occurring so suddenly and by a chance meeting, a twist of fate that brought me to the man I once knew, a mere shell of his former self, so in need of my care. But as I cared for him, he made my life full and happy. I don't know even now if he tried to make me feel as though I was so very cared for and important as he did, but I must admit that I loved every minute of it. It wasn't only in knowing that he depended on me for food and shelter. If that was enough, I could be satisfied with a cat. No, Vash, even in his momentary bouts of silent sadness that he only indulged in when he thought I wouldn't see him, was always thinking of me. It was in everything he did, and I noticed all of it. He tried to be subtle about it, always having the house clean when I got home, never going to bed before the dishes were clean and the food was away, but I saw all that and more.
Every morning he would make me breakfast, starting it before I got up and having it on the table by the time I came into the kitchen. I don't know how he woke up so early, but I think maybe it was a skill he learned in his years of running and hiding. He was always there with me. Even when I went to work I'd be reminded of him because of the way I missed him, or sometimes he'd slip little notes into my briefcase that I wouldn't find until later. They were mundane things most of the time, like a list of things we needed or simply a doodled smiley face telling me to have a nice day, but each one of the notes he left made me happy. I found that he checked on me while I slept, as one night I recalled falling out of bed and not wanting to get up, simply falling back asleep on the carpet, but I woke up in bed, snugly tucked inside my thick comforter.
When I came home, he always greeted me at the door and asked how my day was, listening without interruption as I droned on about boring insurance agent business until even I tired of it and asked him how his day was. He always told me that it was good, and then proceeded to make up ridiculous stories about his chores and how difficult they had been. Once he told me how the pair of socks he'd left behind the couch had grown so foul they came to life and chased him through the house, threatening to devour him until he was finally able to tackle them long enough to kill the evil with enough laundry detergent. They were obvious fabrications, and he would tell two or three such tales until he had me laughing and relaxed, forgetting how hard my day at work had been as we went to the kitchen for dinner. After that, we would usually watch the news, though I think that Vash was bored with it, even though he wouldn't say this. Then we might watch a movie before I went to bed and left him to his couch. We fell into this pattern quickly and easily, so fast that I almost forgot that there was something wrong with Vash, something that I desperately wanted to help him with. He cared for me so well; I forgot to watch out for him at the same time. Until the night I came home to a quiet, seemingly empty house, only to find Vash in the bathroom, crying like a baby as he curled up fully dressed in the bathtub.
It's funny how fast you can become comfortable, so comfortable you forget to worry about things that you should. It's strange, but you remember fast enough the moment all that changes, even in the slightest.
-----------
"I'm home!" I called out, a smile already tugging at the corners of my mouth as I awaited Vash's usual enthusiastic welcome, but it didn't come. I frowned, hanging up my coat as I headed further into the apartment, doubts itching at the back of my mind as I saw that nothing was being made for dinner and Vash was neither in the kitchen nor the living room, though the television had been left on. Would he have left this suddenly, reverting to his old ways of waking up one morning and deciding that it was time to move on? For some reason, that thought scared me badly, and I couldn't think why I should be so concerned about where he was. Perhaps I was scared that he'd end up hungry in an alley once more, and after all, he was my friend, wasn't he? I wouldn't wish such misfortune upon any of my friends, certainly. I continued to worry as I went down the short hall, opening my bedroom door and finding it without life. Only two more doors left, and I doubted he'd be crammed in the storage closet. So with shaking fingers and bated breath, I reached for the doorknob to the bathroom, twisting it slowly and peeking inside.
Now, I realize as I speak about all this now that it might not have been a wonderful plan to open the bathroom door without knocking, but I was worried, so I wasn't exactly thinking on the possibility that he might be naked or anything like that. As it was, I was shocked at the sight that met my eyes. Curled in the empty tub, still fully dressed and sobbing like a child was Vash the Stampede. Now, I think it's fair to say that this was not the first time I'd seen him cry. For a presumably deadly outlaw, Vash was quite the crybaby, and more than once I'd seen him sobbing loudly and openly, letting his tears cleanse away his pain for himself and, more often, others. The worst off I'd ever seen him was after he'd been forced to kill Legato Bluesummers, the first man he ever actually killed, and for days he couldn't do anything but cry and contemplate his sin. I'd known since I found him that something terrible happened to Vash while we were separated, but I still didn't know what that was. Whatever it had been, he'd obviously reached some kind of breaking point.
"Vash!" I gasped as I took the scene in. "Vash, what's wrong?" I moved quickly to the tub, kneeling beside it and resting one hand on his arm, trying to gain his attention, perhaps even calm him down a bit. "Vash, talk to me."
"I…Meryl…" he managed between sobs, sitting up slightly and rubbing his eyes against the sleeve of his black t-shirt, trying to calm himself, though tears still streamed from his eyes. "I didn't…realize…you were…home." He ignored my hand on his arm, standing a bit shakily, his eyes still red and wet from his tears. "I better…start dinner." He sniffled, but I managed to cut him off before he could get to the door.
"That's not it, Vash. Don't worry about dinner, okay? I don't care about that right now. I want to know…" I paused, wanting to be careful with my words. If I was too blunt, he might leave and never come back, depending on what it was that was upsetting him so much. "Vash, since I saw you on the street, I knew something was wrong, but I decided to let you tell me when you were ready. But Vash…I don't think I can wait forever. Not when it means I'm going to just…find you like that. Can you tell me what happened to you?"
"Meryl," his voice was soft and serious, his tone something different than what he usually spoke in. He sighed, putting a hand on my shoulder, his other arm wiping his eyes again. "Please…I can't tell you. If you want, I'll leave, if it bothers you."
"You'd rather leave than tell me?" That stung. I couldn't believe he'd said that. "You really trust me that little?"
"No, it's just…" Vash lowered his head to my shoulder, giving me a half hug that I slowly returned. "If you knew what happened, I don't think you'd want me here still."
"Why would you think that? Vash, I wouldn't make you leave. I…" I stopped, keeping my voice low and soothing. No need for him to get more worked up than he already was just because I couldn't act calmly about this. But I must admit, I felt a bit ridiculous, petite woman that I am, standing under a considerably taller man who was curled in an awkward looking arc so that his head was low enough to rest on my shoulder. And I was confused by his sudden emotional outburst anyway, so it was hard to remain the calming influence that he obviously needed at this point. "Vash, do you want to sit down?" I didn't want to admit it, but he was leaning on me a bit, and the man was definitely heavier than me. It was starting to bother my already sore back.
"But…dinner." He sounded extremely upset that he'd failed in his self-assumed responsibility. "You…you're probably hungry."
"Tell you what." I paused, closing my eyes so that I wouldn't see how ridiculous I looked patting his head as though he were a child. "Why don't we order out tonight? We can stay up late watching movies and eating take-out. Anything you want." So he didn't want to talk about his problem yet. I figured that it was probably better not to push him. "I mean, it's Friday, so I don't have to work tomorrow. Come on, it'll be fun."
"Anything I want?" he turned, and my shoulder now muffled his voice, though I could still make it out easily enough. "Can we get pizza?"
"Sure." I wasn't surprised at this request. Vash loved pizza almost as much as he loved donuts, I'd learned.
"I'll call!" He dashed off, almost as though his former low mood was completely forgotten. At least if I couldn't get him to confide in me, I could cheer him up quickly enough. Though still, it stung to think that he couldn't trust me with his secret. It stung to think that there was no one to whom he would entrust this secret of his. He had lived so much longer than me, and it seemed that now he was more alone than I'd ever been. And all the while, I tried to draw him out, but I don't think he even noticed my attempts well enough to respond. "Meryl, you like mushrooms, right?" Suddenly he was popping out in front of me as I stood deep in thought, and it was all I could do not to shriek in surprise.
"Um, yes, yes I do." I lowered the hand that had risen defensively at his sudden appearance. "Anything you want is fine."
"Okay then, one large mushroom and pepperoni pizza with black olives!" he told the person on the phone, beaming happily at the idea of pizza. There was a short pause after which he hung up the cordless, calling over his shoulder. "It'll be here in ten minutes!" He sounded so excited, and I suddenly realized that the entire time he'd been living with me, he'd been this way. Small things would cause him great happiness and excitement, but when I thought about it, I couldn't be all that sure that he was truly happy. He was just so over the top that I assumed he must be pleased about every little thing, but what if it was all an act for my benefit? Not that I doubted he liked mushroom and pepperoni pizza with black olives. The thing that bothered me was that he was acting overly happy on my account. And then, for the hundredth time since I'd first found him, a question popped into my head. But for the first time, I actually gave it voice.
"Vash?" I wondered aloud, not really thinking he was nearby enough to hear me. "Where's Knives at?" I asked.
"Kn…Knives?" I heard the squeak and turned to see him headed toward me, a movie in his hand, the smile having slipped from his face. He looked forlorn and lost, completely confused and terribly sad, and at once I wondered if this was the face that was always hidden behind a huge smile.
"Your brother, right? That was his name, wasn't it?" I asked, suddenly wishing I hadn't said anything. I didn't know how long I could stand that sad look on his face. "I mean…when I last saw you…Knives…you guys…um…Vash?" I felt incredibly foolish for bringing up a topic that he so obviously did not want to discuss. His green eyes were full of tears, and I felt horrible, knowing that it would be my fault if he started crying again. His lip was quivering slightly, and I knew it was only a matter of time before the floodgates burst yet again.
And then the doorbell rang.
I didn't know how to feel about the sudden interruption. Should I be upset that someone had cut into such a serious and private moment? Should I feel guilty that I was a bit relieved at the distraction? Should I feel hopeful that perhaps this pause in our conversation would give time for Vash to regain some composure? I didn't know how to feel, but as the doorbell rang a second time, I knew that I had to answer it. It was the pizza man, of course, carrying the pizza Vash had ordered just a few minutes ago. I handed him a couple of bills, blind to whether or not I'd grossly over tipped him. The idea of a few less dollars in my pocket worried me far less than the condition Vash had been in when I'd run for my purse. I couldn't help hoping that the sight and smell of the pizza would put him in a happier mood, but did I really want that façade of happiness that it seemed he was forever putting on, or did I want to get closer to the cause of his problem?
"Vash," I was speaking gently, hoping to soothe his sadness with a kind tone. "Vash, the pizza's here." I brought it into the living room, setting it on the coffee table without daring to look up. But after a long silence, I couldn't resist, and so I looked up to see him sitting with a precarious smile balanced under wet eyes.
"It…smells good." He told me as I moved to sit next to him. I touched his arm lightly, hoping to gain his attention.
"Vash…are you…" I wasn't sure what I meant to ask him, but he cut me off with a choking hug, burying his face in my shoulder as he began to sob silently. I was so shocked that I couldn't even recall why I'd begun speaking, and instead sat frozen for a few moments before I decided just to let him have his shoulder, as he obviously had need of it. I wrapped my arms around him slowly, patting his back and stroking his hair as I remembered my mother doing when I would come to her, crying about anything at all. It was obviously a bit different than that now, but I felt that any sort of comfort I might offer would be at least a little bit helpful. "Shh, it's okay." I spoke softly, rocking slightly back and forth. "It's okay now."
I can't say I honestly know how long we sat like that, but by the time his sobbing slowed to the occasional sniffle, the shoulder of my shirt was long since soaked through with his tears. He shifted eventually, edging away from the embrace that had been more his doing than mine. It was strange, feeling the sudden lack of warmth against me, missing the pressure of his arms on my waist, his head on my shoulder, the tickle of his hair on my neck. These feelings were all strange to me, as I couldn't recall ever before being embraced as Vash would often embrace me. It wasn't like the hugs I remembered from my mother and father, nor even like the hugs that Millie sometimes surprised me with. When Vash hugged me, I felt not as though I was simply being held, but more like I was holding onto someone who was holding onto me as well. I don't know how I can better explain it, but there it is. But even after the odd random hug from Vash, I never felt quite the way I did after letting him cry on my shoulder like that. Maybe it had only been a few moments, or maybe it had been hours, but in the end, I wasn't ready for the sudden loss of the embrace. It wasn't that I didn't want him to stop crying, it was more as though I didn't want him to stop needing me so strongly. It may be selfish of me to admit it, but I loved to feel as though I was needed by him. I loved to feel that I was the one thing he couldn't do without. It was a childish enough hope, but all of us harbor our little dreams of self-appointed importance.
"Sorry." He spoke up, rousing me from my thoughts. I looked up at his tear-streaked face, his bright green eyes lined with red from his crying fit, his cheeks puffy and red with the heat of his emotions, and I smiled. He was beautiful, truly. Even now, with sorrow so thick in him, his face was a sight I would never tire of. Without thinking, one of my hands drifted up to his face, my thumb wiping away a stray teardrop gently. His cheeks were noticeably heated compared to my cool hands, and he leaned into the motion slightly, obviously wanting to cool down a bit.
"Don't worry about it." I told him, my voice soft and gentle, hiding the surprise I felt at the entire scene. I took my hand away from his face and motioned to the unopened box on the table. "Hungry?" I stood to put the movie in so that perhaps some semblance of normalcy might still be had from the evening gone terribly awry.
I didn't need to ask him twice. Vash attacked the pizza with a reckless abandon that was rare even for him. I managed to salvage two pieces for myself, but he devoured the rest of it quickly, though he offered me the last piece. I let him have it, not really hungry enough to deny him the last bit of dinner, and too amused by the whole scene to ruin it with selfish intent. After the pizza was finished, he stood up, returning with the old afghan I always bundled up in whenever I watched movies. I would have gotten up to retrieve it soon enough anyway, but his thoughtfulness was nonetheless touching. "Thank you." I smiled at him as he handed it to me, still looking a bit contrite about the scene that had occurred earlier. At least I knew now that whatever had happened, Knives was somehow involved, so that was something. I could wait for the rest, if he'd only learn to trust me…
As I sat pondering the night's events, I felt Vash's arm go around my shoulder as he leaned back into the couch, pulling me with him. I almost resisted him out of instinct, but it was Vash, after all. It would be silly to deny him a small bit of contact after letting him cry on my shoulder so long that the pizza was cold when we finally ate it. So, even though I was stiff and a bit surprised by the tug of his arm, I acquiesced soon enough, pulling my feet up onto the couch as I rested against his chest. The movie was nothing remarkable, and I still can't remember what it was we watched. Some action film, I believe. However, I can remember everything about how Vash leaned back in the corner of the couch, breathing steady and low as I let him pull me to his chest. I remember the sound of his heart and how I tilted my head to the side so that it filled my head with it's low, comforting rhythm. I remember looking up at him briefly, and seeing him smile at me in a way I'd never seen before. I remember how the arm that pulled me to him stayed around my shoulders, but the hand wandered up to my hair, playing with short strands casually. I remember how his other arm eventually moved over to me as well, wrapping low over my waist and brushing against my back as it came to rest. This was nothing like the desperate way he'd clung to me before. Something about it was more familiar, and almost more intimate. He held me casually, gently, as though he wasn't refusing to allow me to leave, but subtly suggesting that I might stay. I could stand up, and his arms would fall away easily, but the circle they formed gently made the entreaty that I not leave him alone. Not now, when he was still feeling so low, and so all alone. And who was I to say no to that? Besides, I was tired, and it was late. It felt good to fall asleep there, warm arms and warm body setting me so much at ease.
*****
The End (Of Part 2, That Is)
