Trigun Fanfic
Trigun © Yasuhiro Nightow * Shonen Gaho-sha * Tokuma Shoten * JVC * Pioneer Entertainment (USA) Inc.
The following fanfiction was written by me (Chiruken) and is intended for the sole purpose of shared entertainment and not intended for publication or sale.
--Ohayou, My Dear—
Trigun Fanfic Featuring Vash and Meryl. "Pervert!" "Wh-what are you doing in my bed?" "Put some clothes on for God's sake!"
By Chiruken
Chapter 8
**~**
Meryl blinked and slowly lowered her arm, pointed the gun at the floor instead of at the man staring at her with wide green eyes. Raising a weary hand she rubbed her puffy, swollen eyes and sighed before turned away and closing the door. Numbly crossing the room she allowed herself to flop back onto the bed with a groan. **I'm so tired…** She thought with a yawn. **Now I'm seeing things. Why would Vash be standing outside my door?** She shook her head and reached blindly for her blanket.
Vash stared at the door that Meryl had closed in his face and bowed his head in dejection. **She doesn't want to see me.** He couldn't blame her, of course. Not after the ass he'd made of himself earlier that day. Turning away from the door he began to take a step and halted, head snapping up as he caught a thread of something familiar. Brow furrowing into a frown he turned slowly and stared at the door again. Raising a hand slowly he pressed two fingers against his temple and closed his eyes in concentration. It was a mere tickle, like an itch that couldn't quite be reached. "What is this feeling?" He muttered under his breath as he opened his eyes to stare at the room number painted on the wooden door. Shaking his head sharply he turned away and headed for the stairs. **Just my over-active imagination, that's all.**
***
Knives released the breath he'd been holding with a whoosh of air. **That was close.** He turned his attention from the door across the room and focused instead on the woman sleeping on the bed, completely oblivious to his presence. **Stupid human…** He thought in disgust. Climbing the rest of the way through the window he moved quickly towards the bed, sending out mental feelers as he went. He didn't want her to wake up at the wrong moment and ruin everything. He frowned when he felt her consciousness begin to stir, some small part of her alerting her mind to his intrusion. He shrugged and gave her an added nudge, the mental equivalent of a sharp rap to the head, and pushed her back into the oblivion of unconsciousness. **Can't have her waking up yet…**
He wandered around the room, curiously peering into her suitcase before shrugging and turning away. The typewriter across the room drew his attention. It still had paper in it. Crossing over to it, he pulled it out and studied the print marching neatly across the page. He swore softly and dropped the letter to the table and spun to look at the woman sleeping on the bed. Millie had been right. The situation had deteriorated almost beyond repair if the letter he'd just read was any indication. "Vash, you're an idiot." He muttered as he bent to lift the woman into his arms. "I hope this works…" He shook his head and disappeared through the window along with Meryl Stryfe.
***
Millie sighed and stretched out on her bed to stare up at the ceiling above her. It felt good to have seen Knives again. Smiling dreamily she pulled the blanket over her and yawned. **Has it really been three years? Wow…I sure missed him.** She'd written to him frequently while traveling with Meryl and Vash. She felt a little guilty that she couldn't share Knives' whereabouts with her friends, but she had promised after all. So, as they'd traveled from town to town searching for him, she'd kept quiet and secretly warned him each time they got near to where he was so he could always stay one step ahead of them.
Rolling over she stared at the wall before forcing her eyes to close. She had to keep up her end of the charade if it was going to work. She just hoped Vash didn't lose his head and kill his brother before they had a chance to explain. A frown of worry tugged her lips down. She didn't want Knives to get hurt again. He'd really been tying to change and give humans a chance, but she doubted Vash and Meryl would be willing to listen right away. She flopped onto her stomach and buried her face in the pillow. After spending a year with him while he recovered from the gunshot wounds Vash had given him, Millie had discovered that under all the antagonism was a very lonely and insecure man. It had taken a lot of work, but she'd finally gained his trust and in turn she'd helped him to 'disappear' so he could start over. She wasn't sorry for what she did and knew that if given the choice she'd do it all over again.
***
Vash slumped down into his chair and lifted the glass filled with amber liquid to his lips and drained it. Setting the glass down on the table he reached for the nearly empty bottle again to refill the glass. It seemed to him that life just couldn't get worse. Meryl hated him. His brother was still missing. And he was no closer to finding out what Millie had been hiding from them for nearly four years. He wasn't about to start grilling her, though. She'd gone out on a limb to try to help him with Meryl, so he'd let the matter rest. Besides, everyone had their secrets that they wanted to keep so why would Millie Thompson be any different?
He leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling, cradling his glass against his chest. Knives had somehow eluded them for three years, staying one step ahead of them. Every time Vash thought they were getting close to catching up to him, he'd disappear. It was frustrating to say the least. And puzzling. As far as he could tell, his brother hadn't killed anyone yet. **What are you up to, Knives? What game are you playing? Where are you?** Sighing, he drained the glass again and leaned forward to contemplate the now empty bottle sorrowfully. He hated thinking about his brother and the possible havoc that he could be creating even as he sat here in this saloon trying futilely to drink himself into oblivion. "Why do these things keep happenin' to me?" He muttered as he allowed his head to fall with a thud onto the scarred table top. "And why should I care what the hell she thinks?" He mumbled before darkness spiraled in and dragged him into a state of drunken unconsciousness.
The bartender shook his head and set aside the glass he'd been polishing as he watched the tall blond stranger as he drank alone. Moving out from behind the bar he approached the table with a tray and retrieved the bottles and glass. "Six bottles…man, this guy is gonna be hurtin' in the mornin'." He shook his head again, expression filled with grudging respect. It wasn't often he saw someone drink like this guy had. "He must be killer at drinkin' contests." He shrugged and returned to his post behind the bar.
~*~