"…and so I figure that in the Southern Feb oases, the same family will be doing the foster care work. It won't be any-less needed, that's for sure. The den mother was pretty organized, back when I was assigned to assess the risk of their facility, before I met your brother. But despite all their efforts, kids there still turn into delinquents from lack of love…" Meryl chatted in a forced casual tone, as she thumbed through her itinerary, squinting against the gusting desert air.
She stole a quick glance at the driver of the jeep, to see if his distant, troubled expression had changed. Knives' collar was up to his ears, only a portion of his wind-burned face being visible, and that portion didn't show any sign of even hearing her. He stared like he had been for the past hour and a half, unfocussed at some random point ahead, hands reflexively steering as though his body were in auto-pilot. Meryl sighed inwardly, and looked back down at her schedule.
What was he thinking about that made him so unreachable?
She hadn't anticipated that Vash would make her go on his behalf. He was adamant that her presence would make this little 'anecdote' for Knives' inner peace no less effective. She eventually believed him, and figured that at most Knives would feel awkward with her along. Incommunicable. Even distressed.
But not shell-shocked.
Whatever was roiling around in his brain left him nearly catatonic. It was like his progression towards inner peace over the past couple months had come to a screeching halt. It can't be just me. Us. Alone, like this. she rationalized crazily. He's acting too weird. There has to be something more to it… Meryl cleared her throat, carrying on with the one-sided conversation, simply because she didn't know what else to do. "…Once there, after meeting with them, I can comb through one side of the community and you could comb through the other—"
Suddenly, something did catch his attention. His eyes widened. He swore, coming to life. Meryl watched in growing unease as he sat up in his seat, frowning in alarm at the panel, to the desert, back to the panel…
"What is it?" she asked.
"Storm. A sand storm. Heading right for us."
Her head swiveled forward, and she squinted at the horizon. The sun-baked mirage warbled several kilometers away, and above it - yellow sky. She frowned. "A storm? I don't..." The mirage lurched, and the sliver of movement she believed to be a part of its illusion, grew. It burst through the mirage like a stampede, the vagueness now taking shape. She gulped, and adrenaline heightened her senses as she observed the large expanse of the rolling tempest, to the east, the west. "Oh…Oh no--"
He swore again.
"I thought you…checked the weather," she rambled. "You always check the weather."
"I forgot."
She gaped at him. "You forgot…"
Damn you, Vash, she heard him swear internally, not even bothering to cover it up.
Meryl raised a hand to her lips, wondering crazily what in the world Vash had to do with Knives' forgetting. She shelved the question for later, hugely intimidated by the issue at hand. The approaching wave of unearthed desert and vicious winds had just seemed to cover a mile in the last few seconds. Twice the size in her peripheral vision. She'd heard of sandstorms this big, burying entire communities under 15 feet of gravel. There were at least four files of such catastrophes archived in the Bernardelli Insurance company's basement…but she'd never actually witnessed one. It was going to be on them in a matter of minutes, and it was huge. "Can we outrun it in the jeep?" she asked hopelessly.
"No. It can't be outrun." Knives scanned their surroundings proactively, and then slammed on the breaks. The jeep slowed to an abrupt stop, and with the engine killed, they could actually hear the rumbling, crescendoing sounds of the approaching disaster. The ground was even shaking. Meryl's palms began to sweat. Another mile. Crossed.
She felt ill. "It'll be on us in a matter of seconds…"
Not answering, Knives hopped out of the vehicle with a determined expression, and dropped to his knees, slamming his fists into the sand. Energy started to radiate and crackle about him, his face showing visible signs of straining...
He's trying to raise a barrier, she realized, as the gravel in front of him adhered to itself like a forming stalagmite, becoming rock, and raising out of the ground like a small geyser. It shadowed them quickly, speckled with holes.
"Slant it, Knives, or the pressure will just tip it over on top of us!"
He grunted, and the forming rock wall angled sharply. Almost too sharply. There was no time for perfection. Granules propelled by the 100-mile winds started pelting her face, and arms. The blue sky above them darkened, eclipsed by airborne particles. Meryl hissed and tried to cover herself, too scared to worry about her dignity. "Knives!"
"Get out of the jeep!" he shouted.
She reacted immediately, trying to push the door open against the air pressure, but it resisted. Assessing danger was her job, but the force of this natural element was beyond her experience. She squinted through the sand to see Knives frantically motion for her to join him with one hand while the other was still erecting the shelter. There was only a few yards between them, but it suddenly seemed like miles.
How am I going to reach him in time!?
Her stomach flipping with anxiety, Meryl tried climbing over the door, foolishly squaring her shoulders to the winds in the process – but they caught her with a vengeance, and ripped her out of the jeep, tossing her in a dizzying vortex away from her safety. It stole her breath. She faded before she could even scream.
She didn't know what happened next, but when she came to, a heavy weight was on top of her. In the post-faint dizziness, she panicked, thinking she'd been buried. But then she felt the coarse spikiness of hair against her cheek, the feel of arms hooked under her own, bracing her down. The weight coughed.
Kn…Knives!
He was trying to protect her. The immense pressure of the wind against her crown and shoulders told her that they were perpendicular against the storm, and amidst the deafening howling, there were muffled sounds of forming rock. Churning gravel. Labored breathing puffed against her left ear, and claustrophobia set in as a rock cocoon crept up on both sides and enveloped them in darkness and copious amounts of sand.
It was a shelter, but it felt like a coffin.
The suffocating proximity, the overwhelming force of mother nature, the flashback of being plucked from the jeep as though she had no more substance than a feather… Meryl turned her face against his neck, and clutched at his shoulders.
"You're conscious…" he huffed in residual panic, as tense as the encasement around them. "Are you—are you—?"
"Scared," she uttered, scrunching her stinging eyes shut. "I'm scared."
He exhaled what seemed to be relief, and his body grew heavy as it relaxed. Shelter finished. "We'll be fine."
"But…what if we're buried? What if we run out of air? What if the weight of the sand above us crushes this little shelter? What if--?"
"Meryl," he soothed with a trace of the arrogance that she almost forgot he had, "You forget who you're with."
She almost laughed, but it came out a whimper. The sand washed over their cocoon like the feet of a thousand scuttling beetles. What must have only been minutes seemed like hours to Meryl, as time and time again, they were dislodged from their spot, rolling maddeningly until Knives would anchor them by sprouting jagged spikes from the rocky surface of their hastily-made protection. The wind was knocked from her lungs by his weight, and her head spun but Meryl held her tongue and her screams, allowing him all the concentration she could.
The last upheaval had landed her on top of him. He'd had at least one arm around her this entire time to keep from crushing her when they rolled. Under different circumstances she would have relished in this forced closeness, but at the moment, she was too frightened to even feel awkward or shy.
She blinked largely against the blackness, her fingers entwined tightly in Knives'shirt beneath his jacket. Meryl listened breathlessly as the sounds of the storm grew muffled. He reached around her and palmed the top of their encasement.
"Is it…is it leaving?" she whispered.
"Not yet."
"Then why…?" She stopped, gulped and gasped. "Ah! We're buried!"
"Yes," he said, and then at her noticeable panic dropped his hand to cradle her head against his chest. Relax, he sent telepathically. …or you'll use up an hour's worth of oxygen in just a few minutes.
Shaking, she inhaled a shuddering breath and forced her body to go malleable, concentrating on the even, heavy thump of Knives' heartbeat against her cheek. How could he be so calm? He ruffled her hair for reassurance, the earlier awkwardness gone for the simple fact that she desperately needed his protection.
The sandstorm shouldn't last much longer, and if I think we're in danger of getting too deep, then I'll create a crater and excavate us out. Alright? He sent.
She nodded reflexively. It was hard to let go of her anxiety, but she gradually became distracted. He left his arms around her, fostering a sense of security and even…even…tenderness? It dawned on her now that they'd stopped rolling, that there was enough room in the cocoon to be side by side. But neither moved to situate that arrangement.
Pushing the claustrophobia to the edges of her awareness, Meryl forced her fingers to unclench from his shirt, and instead dared to slide them down the inside his jacket, and around his ribs. He tensed for only a second and then relaxed, running his hand from her hair to her lower back. A small fraction of the anxiety and tension ebbed out of her shoulders, and she closed her eyes.
If only their lives weren't threatened…
I…I think it's leaving, he sent after a few moments, almost reluctantly. Her skin tingled where his hand had been when he lifted it to once again palm the inside of the cocoon. Yes. It's gone. His other arm uncurled from around her and she made to get up, when he bracketed her back against him. Hold on. Tight. Are you ready?
Nervousness made her cling, and she dreaded what was coming next. Yeah…
Then here we go. Every muscle in his body tensed, to the point where she felt like she was gripping a rock. A distant rumbling was heard through the shell of the cocoon, accompanied by the hiss of shifting sand. It got closer, and closer until the sounds of moving terrain echoed in their shell. Close your eyes, Knives sent, and even telepathically, she could feel his exhaustion.
He worked his alchemy to dissolve a hole in the top. She gasped as sand abruptly fell on them, bombarded again by hallucinations of being buried, but it was only residual sand, and stopped quickly. The air hit her back. In one sudden move, Knives sat them up and swung her up in his arms, leaping out of the crater.
He landed in a practiced crouch on the perimeter of where they'd been buried, with Meryl's body folded protectively against his. He waited several seconds, unmoving until her heartbeat had slowed. "We're safe, Meryl."
"I know…" She wasn't ready to let go of him yet, and was unsurprised to feel her hands cramp up from gripping his jacket so hard. "Thank you, Knives…" She meant it. If he hadn't of jumped out after her…
"You…thought I'd let the storm take you?"
"I didn't have time to think anything."
"Are you okay?"
"I have sand in my eyes."
She pulled back and tried to open them, but the tiny granules were abrasive. He helped her to stand to her feet, and dusted off her shoulder. "You have sand everywhere."
She squinted up at him. The golden dust layered every feature, dimming his hair and making his face look like the side of a cliff. If it weren't for those prisms of electric blue light he had for eyes, then the guy might have been a statue. If she looked even half as bad… "We…we can't go anywhere like this." Just when the idea occurred to her to go back, he jerked his chin to the west.
"The water table is close to the surface over there. I can make us a small oasis."
Meryl considered. It beat back tracking almost two hours, just to do the same thing. "But what about the jeep?"
He turned and scanned the area behind them. "When I abandoned the shelter to get you, I heard it fall over the jeep. As long as it wasn't crushed, it should be fine. The sand shouldn't have penetrated the enclosed areas of the engine. Let's go get it."
.
.
Knives lost himself in thought as he drove the two miles to the spot where he knew he could raise a small pool. After erecting two shelters, and fighting the storm to save Meryl, he'd then turned around and excavated both them and the jeep out of the sand. It had been a tremendous amount of work.
He was exhausted.
And exhaustion made it hard to control his thoughts. He tried hard to hide it from her, but the scare it gave him when she had been plucked from the jeep by those insane winds had been one of the more terrifyingly poignant moments of his long life. His gut had dropped, and his heart lurched in his throat at the sight, instinct making him abandon everything to go save her. And it took longer than he would dare admit.
The sand hurricanes had tossed him about as well, and he had to transform his angel arm into massive arched blades just to navigate until he caught her rolling, unconscious body. Then he dug them into the terrain, and by the time he was back to normal, she had come to.
At that point, he knew she'd be safe, but even remembering the moment made his insides turn. Her life had never been truly in danger before and the effect it had on him was…strong. He banished the thoughts of what might have happened had he lost her, focusing instead on the living, breathing woman in the passenger seat next to him.
She was dirty and disheveled, her hair and clothes dusty and full of sand. But that familiar spark of intensity had already started to emanate again from her aura. Even in this state, his heart still lurched when he looked directly at her. And after holding her like that in the darkness, feeling her fear, her curvy weight against him, her warmth…suddenly all his logic about not deserving her seemed inadequate…that these feelings he had were far more powerful and significant than any amount of punishment he inflicted on himself.
He gave himself a mental thwack. I have to tell her about him, first--
"What are those metal jags sticking up out of the sand?" Meryl asked, a hand over her inflicted eye as they drove. Her words broke his trance, and when she turned to him, he quickly focused his attention ahead.
The platinum scraps littered the landscape like warped tombstones...demented mementos reaching out like hungry children to the stratosphere that had betrayed them. "They're…the remnants of an old SEEDs ship that didn't survive the atmospheric pressure. Its debris is buried all around this area."
"Oh…"
An old tinge flared, and he grimaced it away. Fortunately they arrived at the surface area and he stopped the jeep before memories of the Great Fall debilitated him further.
He was already weak enough.
She hopped out after him. "Knives…shouldn't you rest first? You've done so much…"
Yes. He should rest, but for as tired as his body was, his mind was still in a whirlwind. If he could just wear himself out a little more, then his brain would have to shut down. "I'll rest after I erect the oasis."
He ignored her outstretched hand and protesting words and crouched in the sand, palming the hot granules. He began the rigorous process, tapping into the water source below, and creating a circulating funnel for it to rise. He sunk the terrain. He found indigenous seedlings far far underground and sprouted some foliage for shade and oxygen. He was trembling, and it sucked every last drop of energy he had. Several minutes later, they had a small pond, no more than ten feet wide and three feet deep, and close to its completion, he collapsed outright and rolled right into it.
"Knives!"
The cool liquid enveloped his body with a more soothing than shocking feel, and he pushed sluggishly against it, his awareness fading to the recesses of his mind. Everything was a distant echo…a frantic splashing, Meryl's panicked and angry words, and the phantom feel of her small but determined hands under his armpits, heaving him out.
He could hear her chatting wildly as she pulled him onto the sandy bank, no doubt some lecture. Cupped water was brought to his lips and despite his lethargy, he did drink. And drink. And drink. When finished, Knives tried to mumble an apology as his head lolled to the side. His consciousness was swallowed up in the oblivion of slumber, a last fading thought informing him that he had indeed gone too far.
He would be out for at least half a day.
.
.
Oddly enough the bath in the oasis left her feeling more exhausted than alive. She'd taken a good thirty minutes, submerging herself, scrubbing the sand from her body and hair, taking the liquid in until her belly was full… Yet she'd emerged from the pond more groggy and achy than when she'd entered it.
Must be the post-trauma nerves after that crazy sandstorm…
She had mild discomfort changing right there, but Knives was completely unconscious. More so than when he'd freed Angela all those years ago. Being familiar with the angels' genetic makeup, she assumed he'd be like that for hours. I told you not to push it, she thought, but the spark of irritation died down almost immediately.
He looked so peaceful. With fresh clothes on, and still-damp hair, Meryl tiptoed over to where she'd hauled him out, blanketed by the shade of some meager tenderlings that he'd grown along the edge of the water. They wouldn't last a week out here on this terrain, but for now they served their purpose.
She knelt down beside him, and her surreptitious glancing turned to outright gazing. The last time she got to watch him while he was unconscious, he was caught up in the throes of unspeakable torments; clenched teeth, hands clutching at the sheets, muffled whimpers and cries… It was agonizing just to look at him then. But now, his expression was relaxed, his breathing was deep and calm, he looked so young… The effect of observing him elicited an entirely different reaction.
She hesitated, and then ignored her reservations. He's out. I can stare all I want.
Lingering eyes indulged her, taking in the familiar contours of his radiant face, so softened and childlike in this state. It was almost like seeing him for the first time. Solid, thick hairline, wide-set almond eyes, narrow nose, sensual mouth, and a tall, athletic body… Egads, you're beautiful, Knives, she thought with a blush, taken aback by the abrupt butterflies in her stomach. It's a good thing you were a jerk for so long, or I might have been too tongue-tied to even talk to you, she thought, imagining how it would have been if she'd just seen a guy like that walking down the street.
Definitely too tongue-tied…
Funny how the physical attributes were so overshadowed by his personality, she mused. Especially such a two-fisted personality.
He shifted.
She jumped, and then calmed. It's a dream. He can't be waking up already. It hasn't even been an hour, yet! She forced herself to stay put, and that's when she noticed something strange. Her pupils had finally adjusted to the shade, and what she assumed was just a miraged aftereffect of seeing the sun reflect off the water for so long was something else entirely. Meryl reached out to touch his face. My word. His skin…
A faint golden aura, not half an inch deep was radiating off his body. Meryl leaned over him to look more closely, now alarmed. She'd seen the plant angels light up before, but it was only when they were recharging each other after a raid. And in those times it was always less subtle, and more electric.
This was different. She was inclined to wake him up, but didn't have to. Suddenly, his eyes fluttered open with a post-sleep puffiness, but definitely blue and alert. He blinked up at her in mild surprise at her proximity to his face.
"Knives," she breathed in alarm, rubbing her thumb along the skin of his cheek pointedly. "What's happening to you?"
But he misinterpreted her closeness, her urgency, her words…
.
.
"What's happening to you?"
There was no time to collect his thoughts, no time to premeditate his actions. No time to even get his bearings on how he ended up outside with wet clothes, in the sand. He opened his eyes and there she was, touching him. Leaning over him. Asking him point blank what was ailing his soul.
"Meryl…" he breathed, noticing her expression and assuming it was because of his stubborn, incommunicable nature over the past several months. "I've worried you…"
Her brow knotted over soulful lavender eyes, and she tugged her bottom lip in between her teeth, and nodded. Her wet obsidian hair flopped over a soft-skinned shoulder with the movement, blanketing him with the clean, post-bath scents that clung to her body. For some reason, it made the inches between them seem like far too great a distance.
"I'm sorry," he said, battling an abrupt captivation. In the fog between slumber and awake, he forgot what his reservations were, and a decision so tough to make was suddenly made. She spent years loving his brother, and now knowing the sacrifice that Vash had made on his behalf…giving her up so that he might have a chance at tranquility…
Knives cursed inwardly, hating what he was about to do. But in this new life of honesty and altruism, it was the only choice.
A confused expression crossed her face and she started to straighten, but he reflexively placed his hand over hers before she could withdraw it. There was a surprised intake of breath. Her eyes widened, and she flushed… One tug, and she'd be his…
"Vash," he stammered, before his lost his will to even give her the choice she deserved. "Vash loved you."
Meryl froze. Her body was rigid, her expression unreadable. An awkward silence followed. Knives began second guessing his timing, when she scrunched her pretty face in confusion, and shook her head as though to clear her hearing. "What…what did you say?"
"He loved you. The only reason he never acted on his sentiments was because he wanted to reserve you for me…"
She went from baffled to nervously apprehensive, searching him as though trying to decipher the intent behind the words.
"It's the truth," he said.
She mutely closed her eyes and began to rub her temples as though battling the onset of a headache.
Knives forced the rest of his confession out before he lost the nerve. It wouldn't be fair to Vash or Meryl if he kept quiet. "And you need to know that the reason I manipulated you along in the first place was so that I could use you to destroy Vash. I was going to exploit your kind-hearted nature to harm humanity, and prove to my brother once and for all that his ideals were unfounded."
Her fingers moved to her brow, and she bowed her head, hiding her face. Her voice was choked. Almost a whisper. "Why are you telling me this?"
He swallowed past the lump in his throat. "You have rid this planet of its villain, Meryl," he said passionately, pointing to his chest. "I don't need to be revolutionized now. You could be with him. I'll be fine."
Her face shot up, eyes tearing. She gaped at him as though he'd just stabbed her in the gut. Knives leaned back, alarmed. He hadn't anticipated—
"You'd be fine?" she said through clenched teeth, and stood to her feet. "You'd be FINE!? What am I - a hot potato!? Do I mean that little to both of you that you could pawn me off so easily??"
"N-no," he stammered. How could she even question how much she meant to him? "It's…it's not like that."
"You just told me that I've served my purpose! Like a used tool for the discard!"
He choked. "I...That's now how I—"
She ripped at her hair, tugging it away from her face. "You're so frustrating! BOTH of you are!" The water in her eyes spilled over. "Do my feelings matter at all?"
His chest ached. "What are your feelings? What do you want?" he asked, readying himself for the answer…
She fisted her sides, and stomped her feet, two seconds away from kicking him. "YOU!" she shouted, and then spun around.
"M-me?"
"GAH!"
The release of intense emotion was so great right then, Knives thought his heart might burst from relief. Me… he reassured himself. She wants me. A lingering regret and unpaid debt to his brother nagged at the edges of his mind, but he pushed it back. Screw altruism. Vash coped with this a long time ago. If he has no regrets then neither will I.
.
.
Her heart hurt so bad, she didn't even have words for it. First to go through two years of rejection by Vash, only to fall in love with his brother and face the same thing. I hate this. My emotions aren't a game of bad mittennn—"mmph!"
The breath was crushed from her lungs as two long arms wrapped around her from behind, and lifted her off the ground in…in…
A hug, she realized with mixed feelings. He's hugging me.
She felt the pressure of his brow as he pressed it against the back of her head, holding her against him affectionately. "And being with me will make you happy?" he asked in a choked whisper.
Another set of residual tears rolled down her cheeks as she suddenly understood. "Yes."
"Good," he breathed. "I'm glad."
Meryl sniffled and wiped her eyes, her frustration melting away. "Idiot," she scolded softly. "Why did you even ask?"
"It doesn't matter now."
To her surprise, he spun her around, grabbed her face in both hands, and kissed her. And kissed her and kissed her… The intimate warmth stole any remaining coherency from her mind. Hypersensitivity to his touch flooded her senses; the tangy warmth and wetness of his lips, the way his hands shuddered as they fell to hold her waist and hips, the dampness and folds of their clothes smashed between them...
The thrill overshadowed the initial learning curve. Her head lolled back and he nuzzled her neck. Her legs gave out, and he lifted her against him.
"I…I love you Knives," she breathed, her tear ducts leaking with the confession. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. "I love you…"
He stiffened, and then he brought trembling hands up to cradle her face, kissing her mouth three times before pulling back to look at her. Meryl's eyes fluttered open, and her breath caught. There wasn't a trace. Not one…of angst, regret, self-loathing, inner conflict… Just half-lidded sapphire eyes crinkled in a contented warmth. His mouth opened and closed twice in unformed words, then his brow lifted in the center in a sort of elated disbelief.
Knives was happy. And when he was happy, he was breath-taking. She suddenly felt shy and ridiculously inadequate, wondering how in the world she landed herself a guy like this. "That," she said through the haze of their chemistry, forcing her abrupt shyness into an eager grin, "is an expression I want to see on your face more often."
He exhaled in a light laugh. "I think you're going to." He rested his forehead against her brow, and then grew rueful. "I'm sorry it took me so long to let you see it."
"It's okay." She leaned forward to kiss him again, and then hesitated. In that half second before the attraction carried them away again, right before her eyes closed, a knot of unease formed in her chest, interrupting the bliss, leaving her with the impression that there was something important she'd forgotten.
He paused. "What is it?" he asked, sensing her alarm.
And then she noticed it. It wasn't as obvious in the sunlight as it was in the shade, but with the onset of dusk, she saw it again…the hue of his skin against the darkening sky. "Knives," she said, pulling back and touching his face. "You're glowing."
He smirked.
"No. Not metaphorically. Your skin. It's glowing."
He frowned confusion at her, and stepped back, holding his hand up between them, looking at it in perplexed inquiry. The tranquility left his expression and the moment was ruined as he in turn noticed what she was talking about. Meryl half-regretted bringing it up, but it wasn't normal. She was concerned.
"I noticed it right before you woke up," she explained. "What does it mean?"
He shook his head mutely, and narrowed his eyes as he lifted his shirt, his pant leg, his sleeve, all to see faintly glowing skin. "How…how long was I out for?"
"20 minutes."
His head shot up, and he gaped disbelief at her. "20 minutes?"
Nod.
"I…I thought I'd been out sixteen hours. I should have been out sixteen hours." He noticed the dampness of his clothes, and pinched the material of his shirt between his fingers. "So this wetness is from when I initially fell into the pond? You hadn't been dousing me off and on?"
She shook her head slowly.
Knives turned his head and stared at the pond, stared back at his hand, stared back at the pond… And then a sort of sick understanding paled his features. She picked up trailing words from his unguarded thoughts.
Old SEEDs ship… Generator… Must have…
"Knives…" she breathed.
He turned to her with more fear in his face than when he'd been in hell. "Meryl…" he stammered, taking in her wet hair, and clean skin. "You bathed in the pond… Drank its water?"
Nod. "Of course I did. That's what it was there for, wasn't it?"
He turned ashen, and the sapphire hue of his icy eyes glistened. He looked like he was two seconds away from falling in the dirt and wailing, as though she'd just died right in front of him. Her stomach in knots, Meryl grabbed his arm.
"What is it?" she asked, shaking him. "You're scaring me, Knives!"
"The water," he choked through a constricting throat, grimacing in anguish. "The water was radioactive."