Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!
Myshkin: To my faithful readers whom I haven't pissed off, scared off, or made really, really bored by not updating for a while, I apologize. Mid-term break came and I failed to take my notes for this chapter home with me (I'm so smart, S-M-R-T, I mean S-M-A-R-T! ^_^) Anyways, here's the next chapter. I really am sorry that all this relationship stuff is cropping up and taking away from the action; it'll change soon, hopefully.
Tying Up Loose Ends
Chapter Eighteen
A Derringer's Report
"You love him, don't you, Meryl."
Meryl's head snapped up from her arms, where it had lain moments before; it had been a futile attempt to rid herself of a terrible headache but it was all she could do since they didn't have the extra funds for aspirin at the time. The girls were back in a small town called Barracks, three months before they would see their friends once more.
The pair had bounced around, following fruitless rumors as best they could when traveling to investigate insurance claims. With Vash the Stampede basically out of the picture (rumor was it that he had finally met his end and that's why he hadn't been marauding across the planet), they could only cling to the slowly shrinking faith in Vash's uncanny ability to stay alive that resided deep within their hearts.
"What did you say, Milly," she asked, perfectly and painfully aware of what the question had been.
"I asked if you love Mr. Vash," the girl replied, blissfully unaware of her friend's discomfort.
"I…. As a…. It's like a…." Meryl stuttered and then sighed, giving up. "Yes I do, I think. It's ridiculous, though, and completely unfeasible!"
"Why?"
"Well, for one thing, I can't even begin to know how he thinks of me. Am I an acquaintance to him? A friend? More? He loves everyone so much that I can't possibly tell who he cares about more over others. There's only so much a heart can hold; he can't have room for any one person over another."
"Oh, I don't know about that," Milly said. "He seems awfully fond of you, me, Mr. Wolfwood, and even his brother Mr. Knives, despite all he's done to hurt Mr. Vash. He's definitely more fond of us than that little boy and his mother walking down the street right now."
Meryl pushed herself up from the desk and moved to stand at the window beside the other woman. She quizzically watched the aforementioned parent and child for a moment and then snorted.
"Of course he does; he doesn't know them, but he knows us."
"Exactly. Mr. Vash isn't so special that he can refuse to play favorites. No one can, not if they live, work, fight, and play with certain people on such a close and regular basis as us four did for so long."
"And what kind of life can we have together? He'll live forever…"
"So will his memories. Aren't those better than nothing at all?"
"I still don't know, Milly. What exactly am I in love with? What part of Vash do I truly know enough to care that deeply about? What part of him has he allowed me to know? The hero? The sensitive guy? The man in the red coat that always manages to save the day but cries if a bug gets squashed in the process? Vash hides behind his masks, shares nothing, and pushes everyone away. We haven't heard from him in four months."
Meryl sighed and backed up to plop down onto her small bed in their cheaply rented hotel room.
"I don't even believe he's alive anymore," she whispered, a few tears managing to worm their way out of her eyes and down her cheeks. She stared at her hands as they lay there in her lap, palms up. There were no answers there; there were no answers anywhere inside of Meryl. For once she was completely at a loss, without hope or conviction, her necessary driving forces.
"No," Milly shouted, grabbing Meryl by the shoulders and shaking her lightly, causing the smaller woman to look up into another pair of tear-filled eyes. "We promised to think
no news is good news' and never, ever think that Mr. Vash or Mr. Wolfwood were dead. Never!"
"Milly, don't get so upset," she said, gently laying her hands over her friends, trying to calm the distraught Milly. "It's just a reality we have to face. If he was alive, he'd come back for me, for us. I know it. Or at least, I did a couple of months ago. I don't know any more…."
"Oh Meryl, of course he'll come," Milly exclaimed, throwing her arms around her friend. "Of course he'll come."
* * * * *
Not a soul stirred back at the Gardener property since both boys that had been left behind were out like a light. Roscoe snored large, wet, doggy snores as he lay racked out in front of Knives' door. It may have appeared that he was guard, keeping the malcontented plant in his place, but in reality Roscoe smelled the hardly touched leftovers through the door and knew it was only a matter of time before one of the others with thumbs would open the door and give him access to the chow. It truly is amazing how single-minded dogs can become when they have a plan involving the retrieval and consumption of food.
On the other side of the door, Knives was too drugged up to know or care about what went on outside of his brain.
Knives was dreaming again, and unfortunately it was a repeat. He found himself in the middle of the restless, stormy ocean, drowning. The panic wasn't so intense this time because he knew he was dreaming, he knew the sequence of this dream, and he knew he would eventually be saved, if only for a moment, before waking.
Once more the ocean that he had never gazed upon with his own eyes swallowed him up and once more the mysterious woman, obscured by the water's darkness, halted his decent, a beautiful gardenia breathing life into his pressed lungs. When she spoke at last, though, her words were different.
"I apologize," said the soft, sad voice in his mind. "I saved you through her, but I could not control her fury. Honestly, I don't know where she got the temper from. Most certainly not from my side, I can guarantee that."
Knives blinked, the surreal tension completely dispelled, gone from the dream. He was no longer communing with a deceased plant who seemed raised far above the mortal plane and Edy's long-gone mother no less. Now he floated there, listening to a lovingly exasperated parent complain only half-seriously about her child. It was mundane, stupid, and Knives knew he would wake up particularly grumpy from the dream. He hated it when dreams were so ordinary. Still, the dream continued and Knives spoke.
"You're Edwina Gardener, are you not? Edy's… mother?"
There was no reply from the figure, but Knives knew it to be the truth. He spoke once more.
"You said he and she would come and stop me. Vash and Edy, correct?"
Again, no answer.
"Well, they came, but I have yet to fail in my endeavor," he said, his voice frozen around a core of cocky self-assurance. "I'm merely set back. The towns that lost their plants to me still remain plantless and they will continue to suffer from this, even though Vash managed to wrest our kin from me. The humans will die and you daughter will be a key element in their downfall."
At last this elicited a response.
"No, you'll destroy her before it comes down to that."
"You mentioned that before," Knives said, his frustration breaking through his icy calm, causing his voice to flare up. "What makes you think I want to kill your daughter? She's of too much use to me to recklessly throw her away."
It bothered him, these insinuations the ghost plant put forth. He couldn't explain why, but it really got under his skin.
"Things don't always go as one plans. Edy has a say in her future as well, you know."
"She will choose death? But that's stupid, contrary to common sense! Edy's too intelligent to throw away her life for the sake of some disgusting humans!"
"He does it all the time," her voice remaining calm and level as the volume and tone of Knives grew louder and more frustrated. Knives had begun to sound like a petulant child now, whining and spiting with every syllable, where as Edwina seemed to indulge his infantile rage. "He is continually sacrificing himself for the good of others."
"Who, Vash? Vash is just as stupid! I'll never understand him, ever!"
"Then you will lose them both."
And with that, the flower was swept away and Knives awoke, still groggy from the drugs and in an extremely pissy mood, as he expected.
"I won't lose them," he muttered to the still, empty room, "not if I have any say in the matter. Not now, not ever; they'll never leave me. They can't leave me."
* * * * *
The dinner passed remarkably without incident. Meryl warmed up eventually, although not yet to Edy, no one bickered over portion size, the food was delicious, and Luc had graced both Vash and Wolfwood with jobs at The Prancing Thomas, so their source of income was now secure. Everyone went away blissfully bloated and supremely satisfied.
As they walked home, Wolfwood petted his belly and sighed; he hadn't been this full this many days in a row in long time. He smiled, lit up a crumpled cigarette, and watched the others chatter in the still night, all the stars and moons following them home, trekking along their paths in the sky. It was a pleasant life and for a moment, probably the first in his life, he almost honestly believed it could last.
Better enjoy this while I have it, he thought sadly, his mind's voice tinged with bitterness. Things never stayed this wonderful for long in this world and especially not the one centered around he and Vash.
Wolfwood caught the end of a joke Edy was telling and laughed, choking back his surprise. He saw Vash's face light up in mirth and then blush bright, bright red. The Insurance Girls were practically supporting each other in their fits of giggles. Isaiah simply looked confused. The boy had been walking at the priest's side so he looked to the older man for answers.
"When your older, Isaiah, when you're older," he said, laughing once more. Inside he hated having to say that, knowing it would only tick the kid off. Considering the only reason why Wolfwood got the punch line was because of the life he led, the life that made him grow up way too fast. He was amazed once more that the rest of his company understood the subtle, if not so refined, humor.
It was a rather off-color joke, filled with euphemisms that would pass over Isaiah's spiky little head but still send most adults into an uproar of either glee, indignation, embarrassment, or rage. Wolfwood was shocked as well as impressed at the fact that Edy knew that one; usually the joke about the one-legged Thomas and the elderly bartender was reserved for "less established" establishments, usually never making it to the ears of such a lady as Edy. Of course, the longer he hung around this woman, the more he realized she was anything but a lady.
The whole crew, with the exception of Isaiah, were more giggly than normal. The vintages had been excellent, if a little too posh for everyday drinking; still, they were well-suited for the occasion. He felt the buzz and the women were certainly much more jovial than before.
Even dry, old Meryl had a glass with dinner, amazingly enough, he thought with a snicker. Maybe that's why she finally shrugged off that attitude.
He may have been a dense male, but Wolfwood knew Meryl had been upset about something. Exactly what he had no clue until Milly filled him in with her hypothesis at dinner. She had taken a moment when Meryl was occupied in the ladies' room. Wolfwood had looked at her with confusion pasted all over his face, asking her what was up with Meryl; as soon as he heard the woman's theory, whispered discreetly so that neither Vash nor Edy would hear, Wolfwood wished he hadn't asked.
This love stuff was icky business, best left to the women to sort out. Sure he was fond of Milly (okay, really fond) but he didn't know or care if he loved the girl. He had a good time whenever he was with her, a better time than when he wasn't, and that was all that matter. Life for him was too short to bother with such headaches.
The group wandered in through Edy's front door around midnight, the boys wandering back to their bedroom, ready for sleep without even bothering with washing up. Edy pondered for a moment about where to put the girls when she decided they would take her room. Milly tried to refuse, but Edy insisted; her bed was plenty big enough for the both of them, it being a king size and all. They followed her upstairs as she brought out clean sheets and towels from the linen closet and set about making the bed.
"Oh no, Miss Edy, let me do that for you," Milly offered, taking the sheets from Edy's hands. Edy sighed with a smile and relinquished the blankets to Milly's eager-to-help hands.
"I'll bet you'll both want a bath, so let me go draw one up while you do that," Edy said, exiting the room.
"Meryl, you go ahead first, I'll be fine waiting," the bigger girl said. Meryl nodded, thanking Milly for her kindness, and followed Edy to the bathroom. At last she would have a proper bath!