Chapter 1:
Rekindle
"Meryl?"
Millie's bright blue eyes searched for her dark purple haired partner. It seemed that she hadn't been in the apartment all morning. The apartment seemed void of her, anyhow; the silence was unlike Meryl. Usually there would be the soft tap-tap-taping of a keyboard, rustling of papers followed by lively footsteps going back and forth, or even Meryl screaming out of frustration. But there was none of this. Just pure silence. Millie crossed her arms, pondering. Curious of where she would be if she wasn't at her desk doing paper work. She rubbed her chin contemplatively. Meryl would have to be doing some kind of business work; her work was her life, or she at least made it seem that way. She had no time for boyfriends, no time for family, no time for fun.
The crystalline-eyed woman thumbed through thoughts of where Meryl would be if she wouldn't be in here. Would she go out for a walk? No, she wasn't that kind of person. If she didn't have a destination or a purpose, she wouldn't even bother to do it. Shopping mall? She would, if only Meryl didn't have so much work to do. Meryl wouldn't ever abandon her duty. Even the smallest of ones. Bar? ...Meryl wouldn't drink on whim. She only sparingly did it even on celebrations. And knowing the kind of men there, Millie knew that Meryl wouldn't go within ten feet of a bar unless Vash was in there.
Millie concluded that the only logical place her workaholic friend would go would be the grocery store to stock up on their food supply. She turned to the door with a cheery smile on her face. That's where she had to be. Of course!
She was about to lock the door until her eye caught the familiar black leather of Meryl's wallet. Wait, if she went shopping, why would she leave her wallet? Millie frowned, loosening her grip on the doorknob. Sneakily, Millie slipped towards the wallet and picked it up cautiously. She opened up the two flaps and leafed all the double dollars; the same amount that was there yesterday.
Millie closed it up again and promptly put it back down. Her right hand soon returned to her chin and encircled it a bit. Her right golden eyebrow arched as her blue-horizon eyes looked at the ceiling, speculating on the whereabouts of the tomboy woman. Indeed Meryl seemed to be the concealing artist today. Millie had never noticed that finding Meryl would be sometimes as difficult as tracking Vash the Stampede.
She shrugged her shoulders coolly; deciding that the only thing she had left was to search the rooms of this new apartment. She didn't seem to be in town at all. She wasn't at her usual desk typing up reports on their progress of monitoring the outlaw. Those were the only two places Meryl would be, since she really didn't actually have much of a life to do any other things.
"Meryl?" Millie's voice carried throughout the hallway. She looked to the left and to the right of her, still not receiving an answer. "Meryl?"
Millie's lips pursed.
This is strange, she mused. Where in the heck would that girl be?
She peeped her head in each spacious, open door room in the apartment. The bathroom, the living room, the workroom, the second bathroom and the dining room were all empty. Millie frowned and put her hands on her waist. She wasn't going to give up. She and Meryl had to start looking for Vash since his disappearance four weeks ago. She knew Vash promised he'd be back, but Vash was still Vash. He was capable of being sidetracked by either a beautiful woman or a very good pastry baker. There was no telling whether the 60 billion double dollar man would come back to them or not.
"Meryl, you better come out right now," Millie's voice roared in the apartment. "This is no time for hide and go seek!"
"Millie, what are you talking about?"
Relief flushed in Millie's face as the voice floated from inside one of the rooms. Millie rushed and peeped her head in the one of the three rooms she didn't check. Meryl's tiny figure was by a windowsill, sitting on a stool by a telephone and a desk. Millie's stomach ceased to churn when she saw piles and piles of paper on her desk. So she was working after all.
She was busy doing work in here! Of course!! This is her own room. I wonder why I didn't check this first?
"I'm sorry, Meryl," Millie cheerfully laughed. "But I couldn't find you. I was about to ask you when we should start our little search party for Mr. Vash. I don't think he'll be coming anytime soon."
Meryl's face still faced the window, her voice uncharacteristically unemotional. "We'll give it another three days. He promised us, Millie." Her voice seemed to be shaking at the last part of the sentence, though it returned to its stable stocity when she opened her mouth again. "He'll come back."
Millie stood in the doorway, unsure whether to confront Meryl against the window or to remain where she was. Millie could sense the inner struggle of Meryl's refusal to look her in the eye. Whatever was going on in that dark amethyst head obviously was of the silly needle noggin, but there was a sense of melancholy in the atmosphere. Inside her, the blonde could feel the mixture of commands and desires to comfort her, yet the blue haired woman's posture was too proud to be comforted. She was not willing to accept sympathy even if it was for the good for her. The tall woman decided not to prod in it, since Meryl was trying too hard to cautiously guard any weakness that she might portray.
"All right," Millie said softly, her back turning. "Oh, and Meryl?"
"Mmm?"
"Let me know if you need anything..." She turned slightly and glanced over her shoulder. The corner of her crystal eyes settling on Meryl's figure. Motionless and cold, Meryl responded back.
"I will."
The soft click of the door and the faint footsteps of Millie finally allowed Meryl to stop putting up a facade. She turned away from the crystalline window, trails of tears running down her high cheekbones. Her large beautiful eyes silted, the streams of hurt not stopping. Where was Vash? Where could he be? There was a pain in her chest, a rip, whenever she thought of him. The rip hurt so much that it made it hard to breathe. It made it hard to do anything. Even work.
She hugged herself, clutching to her sides and biting her lip from crying out. It was amazing how much the outlaw had this hold on her. Deep in her heart, she knew that if she ever saw him again, she couldn't play this...this act anymore. She couldn't pretend that she had no feeling for him, that he was just a mere annoyance to her. At first, he was...but that was because of the emotions he stirred within her heart whenever he came by. The irritation of not knowing how to feel and what you were feeling, was the source of Meryl's...as Vash would like to call it..."bitchiness". She had always guarded her emotions well. Supervised them with a relentless efficiency. She always mercilessly crushed any feeling that could of led to attachment, or worse, dependency.
But here she was, craving for the spiky haired womanizer like a bad morphine withdrawal. Softly crying to herself over the man she had countlessly called "baka", "idiot", and "moron". The man she had countlessly slapped, ridiculed, stalked viciously, and even threatened to kill. It had been this month's loss, the longest time had had been away, when she realized that this arrogance issue would have to stop. Letting him know that she loved him would be a fair exchange for her pride. That's if he ever came back. Her stomach lurched with worried thoughts of him being skewered some where far off, of running away with another woman and forgetting her, or even worse...coma or death.
She began to choke on her tears, violently sobbing yet self-mutilating herself from anyone finding out her vulnerability.
Either way, dying or alive, Meryl had made up her mind. It was time to stop playing this game. This...act. Meryl's passion, soul, heart, belonged to Vash the Stampede whether she liked it or not. She couldn't bear thinking that he would be gone from her life forever. Never knowing that somewhere deep down inside her, she was willing to stand by his side no matter what. Even with his lady's man habits Meryl knew that Vash was truly a lonely man. He longed for something that had long passed. Something that had passed somewhere between the sand grains of a wasteland and the endless beauty of the sky. It was weeks before Vash had departed to his destination that Meryl noticed Vash looking at her differently. His smile grew gentler somehow. It was after her speech to a man that life was not his to take, and he was no judge to take any life, that started Vash's odd affection.
Either way. She liked it.
Even if she fought it, she knew, she loved it.
"Vash..." she softly whispered to herself as crystal tears crept down her cheeks. "Vash...will you come back to me?" Her hands softly released her sides and she turned to the piles of paper on her desk. Carefully she picked up one and brought it up to her face. She softly read out in her mind, trying to recall memories of the needle noggin under her observations. When he was still with them.
X/X/XXXX
This day marks the sixth month of our mission: to follow and supervise the criminal Vash the Stampede. The state of the outlaw of the hour seems to be content, indulging himself in some pastry specialty. We, Meryl Stryfe and Mille Thompson, have monitored the outlaw for two hours doing this, and there seems to be no signs of any destruction as of today.......