"Hi hi hi!" Vash smiled hugely as he wiggled into the apartment, his arms wrapped around two protesting paper bags. With an umph, he kicked the door shut behind him…which jolted his goodies. With an panicked exclamation, and clumsy expertise, the Stampede hackey-sacked two pastries and a strip of beef jerky up to his head, balanced them for a moment, and let them fall back into the bags.
"Insurance girls, I'm ba-aack!"
No response. Vash's smile broadened. I bet they went to help dig more irrigation ditches, those two. Such good gals… He didn't even bother to stop in the kitchen, waltzing all the way to his brother's room in back.
"Yo, Knives!" He turned the doorknob, and barged in. "Knives! You're going to love these…" Vash went right over, and sat on the chair next to his brother's bed, and started pulling out cream-filled donuts.
Knives was sitting up, with his arms folded across his chest, staring mutely out the window. Like always. Vash grinned on, undeterred.
"They just got a new chef at the pub down the block. And oh! She's so good!" He dumped doughnuts on the tray until it was overflowing. "She's pretty, too. I think I cleared out her entire counter…" he laughed ruefully, and sighed. "And I think I cleared out my money stash, too. Good thing the insurance girls are here, or we'd be out of house and home, with nothing to eat!" He held up a pastry. "Want one?"
Knives didn't even budge. Vash shrugged, and ate it himself. "Maybe I can…do some…guard work for the local bank, again," he began with his mouth full, his cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk, "Not that there is any crime, but—"
"Vash."
He stopped. Stared. Knives…?
"You're so easy to read, Vash."
Vash froze. That tone... Cold. In control. So like it was 30 days ago. So like it had always been. Vash's smile straightened, and his shoulders tensed. He'd spent all this time, trying to crack Knives' shell…trying to soften him up. Trying to get him to talk. But not with that voice. Anything but that voice…
He swallowed his food in one giant gulp, as a forming dread teased the edges of his consciousness. "A…am I?" He asked.
"I know why you let that one stick around, now."
A knot formed in Vash's stomach, and he clenched his hands into fists. The old crazed gleam flickered in his brother's eyes, and a sneer tweaked the corners of his lips. The bed-ridden male faced him, smiling. And after 130 years of knowing him, Vash knew that when Knives smiled, it was never a good sign.
"I don't…I don't know what you're talking—"
"Tsk tsk, Vash. I think you do," he chuckled darkly, taking obvious delight in Vash's discomfort. "She's not quite as naïve. And her temperament is stronger," he grabbed some jerky off the tray, tapped it at his lips in mock thought. "But her idealism, her mannerisms… Her face…" he winced at some internal memory, and his eyes flashed with recognition. "She reminds you of Rem, doesn't she?"
Meryl threw the shovel's contents to the side, and straightened her back, wincing as it cracked in three different places. She blew her breath out in a long whistle and looked back at her work. She'd dug almost fifteen feet. Fifteen! No wonder she felt so exhausted. The city planning had mapped it all out, and the town's residents were eager. With all their volunteers, just a couple more weeks, and it should be finished.
"How ya doin' back there, little lady?" asked an older, gray-haired man a couple yards ahead, enlisted in the same cause.
"Ah, I'm fine," she smiled, wiping her face with dirty hands. "Just taking a quick—" a large shadow loomed over her from behind, "breather…" Meryl turned around and squinted to see against the sun's glare. The sky's beams silhouetted him black as he towered over her, hiding his expression. But she knew that spiky hair, those combat boots, that flanking trench coat anywhere…
"V-Vash?"
His posture was anxious. As though he'd run to get there. She stuck her shovel in the ditch, and leaned heavily on it. "It's about time you showed up to help," she panted. "We got old men, old women, and even children over here digging this ditch, and here you are, lollygagging in the bar with—"
He surprised her by reaching down and grabbing her elbow. "Come with me." Without excuse or apology, he yanked her out of the ditch.
"Hey! What do you think you're--"
Before she could decipher his mood, that annoying plastic grin stretched his lips, shutting the windows to his soul behind closed eyelids. "There's a street vendor down here that's selling…some goods you need!" he rattled in false cheer, raising his hand from her elbow to her upper arm, curling his long fingers firmly around her bicep.
Meryl blinked up at him in a state of suspicious confusion. That ridiculous eye-disappearing smile was never genuine. "Street…vendor?"
"He's leaving town in an hour!" he chimed merrily without turning around.
"I'm filthy, you goof!"
"No filthier than that guy digging next to you!"
She would have smacked her forehead, had she not needed her other arm to balance herself as they ran this imaginary race. "Give me a break! What could this guy possibly be selling that I need?"
Pause. His grip tightened. "Something along the lines of self-preservation." Before she could ask another question, he quickened his step. "Hurry."
Meryl found herself running to keep up with his long strides. "What are you up to Vash the Stampede?" she called out, waving a quick rueful hello to the bar tender as they went trotting past. "Trying to ditch me so you can relocate again?"
He laughed nervously, giving her a brief profile, sweat drop beading down the side of his face. Meryl would have continued to argue but his uncharacteristic overbearance left her feeling a little stupefied. Anxious.
He led them through alleyways, and down narrow streets…directly south. To the edge of town. Every time she'd pester him to slow down, he just laughed in that taught, noncommittal way. They passed the boundaries of the town, and started marching through the hot sand of the arid desert.
"Alright, Vash. Where the hell is this vendor you've been telling me about?" she asked, huffing along.
"Right up there."
"Up where?"
"Over there!"
"I don't see—" her words caught as he abruptly spun her behind a random rock outcropping. She yelped, bouncing against the sandstone none-too-gently. "What are you--?"
His hand clamped on her mouth then, and his fake jolly expression suddenly turned very very serious. The corners of his lips curled down to reveal clenched teeth, his eyes slanted heavily, and for one of the few times since she'd met him – Vash actually looked his age.
"He shouldn't…be able to hear us, out here," he uttered, lifting his chin to peer briefly over the edge of the bouldered terrain.
Meryl tried to ask, 'Who?', but his hand was still covering her mouth. She could taste the salt on his palm, could smell his sweat… She'd never really been this close to him before. Not like this. After an unnerving moment of watching him visibly worry, he exhaled heavily, rubbed his brow with his forefinger and thumb, and locked her in his emerald stare.
"Vash…?"
"You have to leave."
She blinked. That tone... She'd heard it before, and she knew why he used it. Meryl's limbs froze with the onset of fear, but her mind wasn't so quick to accept imminent danger. "Wh-why?"
His lips pursed, and his brow knotted in the center. After a few seconds of watching him battle some inner struggle, Meryl began guessing.
"Does…does it have something to do with Knives speaking today?"
"He spoke to you?"
Pause. Nod. "Not much…"
"What did he say?"
"He called you an idiot. Called me a fool," she gathered her wits enough through Vash's disturbing behavior to remember. "Didn't seem to understand why I was helping him, after everything he's done to the human race…"
Vash studied her with that unnervingly perceptive expression. The one that he kept hidden behind his smile most of the time. "You have to get out of here," and then at her dubious expression, he added. "You're in danger."
"Danger?" she asked, wondering how it was that she'd somehow missed the peril vibe. "From your brother?"
He grimaced in that familiar, wounded way, and hung his head. "It's…it's not your fault. I…I was so hopeful when I brought him back, that I didn't think…think he'd notice…"
His honesty was almost overwhelming. He was never this generous with his true feelings. Meryl resisted an abrupt urge to embrace the man that she'd grown so fond of over the past year, and instead grabbed his hand in hers. "…notice what?"
He was quiet.
"Look, Vash," she began, going with her instincts, coupled with a strong vibe to stay by his side. "I'm not going to let you scare me away. Especially when I think you're wrong about Knives." His head snapped up in muted appall, but she ignored it. "The impression I got from him was angry. Bitter. But not threatening--"
He uncharacteristically grabbed her shoulders, and shook her. "You're not safe! He's noticed you, don't you realize that? He's singled you out!"
"He's singled out the entire human race! Why am I any diff--?"
"Meryl!"
He said her name. The world stopped.
"Because…you just are." His face softened the same time his words hardened. "You're leaving this place, and if you don't go willingly, then I'll remove you by force."
She was losing the battle, his will overpowering hers by a landslide. "But…I don't…"
He surprised her utterly then, by bracketing his long arms across her shoulderblades, and tugging her to him in a suffocating embrace. "I can't risk it," he whispered emotionally. "I can't risk you…"
I can't risk you…
He had clammed right up after that. Had let go of her, leaving her winded, and snapped right back into, 'Get-out-here-now-mode', as though it were a foolish mishap letting his emotions slip out like that.
His emotions. Concerning her. It made the blood rush to her face. First and foremost, because he actually had some. Straight set her heart on fire. She knew he'd finally…reluctantly accepted her friendship, if nothing else because she insisted on tagging along. But the intensity in his eyes when he hugged her out there… She'd become separate, somehow, from the rest of the human race. She was different. To him. Meryl was sure of it.
But exactly why, she didn't know. And he wouldn't tell her, dammit. Was there something spectacular about her involvement here that she was unaware of? Was it…more than that? She kept wondering what would have happened if he didn't go back into commando-mode, and left his heart open just long enough… Egads, the blood was rushing to her face again.
Stop it, Meryl, she pinched the inside of her arm, batting away an invasive visual of what it would be like to kiss Vash the Stampede. Utterly inappropriate. Business first. And then more soberly, I can't believe he's making me leave him…
Meryl sighed heavily and zipped up her last bag and hucked it to the floor. She was in the process of kicking the bedpost when familiar heavy footsteps clumped in the room.
"Vash just told me they've called us back, ma'am…"
Milly stood anxiously in the doorway, with her wide eyes, and curious mouth. She had dirt smudges smeared on her cheeks, and was covered head to toe in soot from digging. Meryl was about to comment on her state, when she realized that she was no better off. They both could use a bath.
"Ma'am?"
"Mm?"
"Did they?"
Lying was so hard, Meryl skirted around it with a truth. "I wish to God I had never seen him as more than an assignment, Milly." She rested her head in her hand, and shook it. Milly was quiet. Observant. Two seconds later, Meryl 'umph'd' as Milly picked her up off the floor in a big bear hug.
"I'm so sorry, ma'am!" she cried. "I know how you feel about him—!"
"M-Milly…" Meryl squeaked, her arms crushed to her sides. "It's…o-okay…"
"It's so tragic, I just wanna cry with you!"
"M'not…crying…"
"We can quit! I'm sure we could find a job here—"
"MILLY!"
She stiffened. "Ma'am?"
"Put…me…down!"
The taller woman quickly set Meryl on her feet, stepping back in question as Meryl leaned over, gasping for breath. If there was anything larger than her co-worker, it was her co-worker's heart. "Thank you…for your concern…Milly," she panted, trying to regain her composure. "But you'd better start packing. You know how paranoid they get…when we're late."
She could feel her comrade's disappointed stare for three more seconds before she begrudgingly set about to collect her stuff. Meryl did her best to avoid eye contact. If anyone could read her, it was Milly. The woman had a knack for singling out issues, dead on…an uncanny ability to dance on the surface of life, while being in tune with its deepest complexities.
If she started interrogating, then Meryl would lose the thin control she had. The control she promised Vash she'd have, so Knives couldn't read her mind. It had taken a good deal of arguing for him to let her return and get her equipment in the first place. He was going to exile her, outright, for crying out loud! It wasn't until she threw Milly in the mix, that he reluctantly let her return. And even now, he was camped downstairs, waiting. Ever watchful, ever paranoid, ever protective…
Milly shuffled out of the room to start carrying the luggage down. Meryl shifted to join her when her eyes were drawn to the yellow-stained wall of their room. She stopped. Stared. On the other side of it was the reason she was leaving, as wounded and bedridden as an old woman with a broken hip. Meryl's brow knotted in the center, imagining his face through the wallpaper…so similar to his brother's with the high cheekbones, and large prism-like eyes, that reflected more light than shadow… How could anyone related to Vash be so evil? It didn't compute. He didn't compute. Hell. Neither of them did--
I'll…do everything I can to help you heal. I mean that. So if you need anything…
Meryl froze. It was in her head. Her words. A familiar voice. In mock imitation of her own…
That was the last thing you said to me, wasn't it? Meryl?
Meryl took a step back, staring shock at the wall. Her heart started slamming the breath from her lungs. "Kn…Knives…" she breathed, holding a shaky hand to her lips. Telecommunicating. That's what Vash had called it. He was telecommun--
Ah. So you are afraid of me.
"I'm…" She swallowed, took a deep breath and tried to calm her tremors. This was the invalid, here. Maimed emotionally and physically. His capacity for danger at the moment seemed next to nothing. "No, I'm not," she said, feeling her confidence start to return. Boy, if Vash found out they were talking—
Then why are you leaving?
Meryl wondered how the hell she was going to possibly lie when he was in her head. She hated this. She hated having her mind invaded. The words, 'My employer,' were on the tip of her tongue when his heavy sigh echoed between her ears.
Typical human. Your word is worth nothing…
Meryl flinched. Ouch.
Ouch, indeed.
"Vash is here. He's all you need."
He was silent.
"Besides, it can't be much longer before you're up and about, anyhow. I don't see how my leaving early will impair your healing process…"
More silence. He was such a damn mystery! Was he trying to make her feel guilty? Well, it was working, if he was… From the sound of it, Knives had expected her to bail. He had expected her to go back on her words. And the knowledge quickly made her backpedal on being coerced to leave. Meryl bit her bottom lip as her thin resolve weakened. She DID say she'd help him heal…
Meryl went down the mental checklist of things that generally kept people from endangering their lives. She had no children. No husband. No life, really. Just a job to do. And her job was 'Risk Prevention', damn it all, and if that didn't entail showing a homicidal human-hater that humans weren't so bad, after all, then…
Alright, Knives, she sent mentally, sensing already that his motives regarding her were ulterior. What do you want from me?
Long, deliberate pause. Get me out of here.
TWO WEEKS LATER
I can't believe I'm doing this, Meryl thought crazily as she fisted the reigns to her chest, frantically urging the desertquat forward. I can't believe I'm betraying Vash! Oh it was a good thing the Stampede wasn't well-versed in reading minds too, because she was broadcasting some serious noise right about now.
She'd snuck back into the outskirts of town, and waited for a full half-day before Knives sent her a mental command. One with very clipped words that informed her Vash had left for the bar.
And to hurry up.
So she did. When that happened, the sun had just gone down. Everything up until now had been so well-orchestrated. She fessed up to Milly about Vash insisting she was in danger, two weeks ago. And then, she concocted this great speech for their employer, about how the Stampede was neutralized, and how an even greater disaster magnet was out there. Hazard Incarnate. In short, they split her and Milly up at her adamant request, reassigning Milly to watch over the Stampede and sending Meryl out with enough financial backing to buy a ride…
A ride she was straddling right now, in the form of an over-sized bird. Mery clicked her tongue, halting the feathery beast to a skidding halt as they arrived at the motel, nearly toppling on its neck in the process. She was so dang nervous, that her foot caught on the stirrups as she attempted to dismount, landing her on her head.
Meryl swore, and scrambled until she was upright, rubbing the growing lump with a grimace. "Agh, Meryl. Such a spaz…" Slightly disoriented, and in way more haste than her scattered nerves could handle, she turned and bolted towards the entrance, only to crash right into a man on the other side of the door.
"Ah! Excuse—"
He gripped her shoulder tightly, and grunted in pain. She muffled a quick apology and made to run past him when his hold tightened enough to make her grimace in shock. Meryl jerked her shoulder back, her jaw dropping in indignation at this stranger's audacity.
"Look! I said I was so…rry…" she looked up. Gulped. "Knives…"
He was cloaked, with the collar turned up. And through the opening in front, she made out a hastily thrown, unbuttoned shirt, and pajama pants. But his eyes were on fire, and his jaw muscles jumping. Hell. She'd probably just jarred his wounds. Wounds he'd just probably reopened by hobbling by himself down the stairs.
"Sorry—"
"The vehicle," he said tersely.
She nodded. "Right. Well, it's not a vehicle, but—" She opened the door and jerked her chin at the bird. "It's the next best thing." She watched in alarm as his eyes widened and his face paled. His mouth hung part open, an unvoiced objection hanging in his throat.
"Oh, don't worry," Meryl reassured, "Once she starts running, it's as smooth as flying."
He peeled his eyes off the bird, and stared at her in an intimidating cocktail of aggravated skepticism.
She tugged on his arm. "Trust me."
He stiffened at her touch, and pulled back. "Bring it here."
Meryl felt her temper flare up. So damn bossy… Doesn't say 'please', she marched over, grabbed the reins, Doesn't say 'Thank You', guided the desertsquat over to where he was leaning against the door frame. After all the sacrifices I've made… "SIT!" she snapped, taking small delight in seeing Knives' startle in her peripheral vision.
The bird hobbled down, and Meryl turned to him. "The back saddle between the wings is where it rides the smoothest." His eyes fixed on the bird's back, and taking a deep breath, he pushed off the door frame to take three clumsy steps…only to collapse against it. Meryl instinctively lunged forward to stable him. It still seemed like he cringed at her touch, but she was beyond caring. He guilted her into helping him, so help him she would.
She precariously balanced herself under his right arm, and took some of his weight so he could lift his left leg over the saddle. It was still a reach, and, "Oi, you're heavy," she breathed, helping to situate him well and good in his seat. Knives made no response to that. Surprise, surprise.
Remembering that Vash could show up at any minute, Meryl jumped on in front of him, and clicked her tongue. The desertsquat ambled to its feet. "Alright, Knives. You never told me where we were going."
"North."
"How long until we reach the destination?"
"All night."
Vague answers, but at least they were answers. She reached into her bag and handed him a couple pills, and a bottle of whiskey. "Take those, and they should take the edge off the pain so you can sleep—"
"I don't sleep."
His expression was set. Condescending. Every vocal response he gave cut off any further attempt at conversation. Meryl was just beginning to comprehend that Knives' constant company was going to be about as delightful as yanking out her own front teeth.
"It's going to be a loooong night," she uttered, turning around and digging her heels into the desertquat. For the both of us…