Vash sat in the hall outside of the lab room where Milly's and Meryl's voices trailed in muffled sounds through the door. His elbows were resting on drawn-up knees, with his back against the cold metal wall. Fisted hands, grinding teeth, crying eyes… He tried to purge himself of violent thoughts, but the visual of punching Knives in the face kept popping up in the forefront of his mind. If his brother hadn't been so miserable himself, he most surely would have.
It was a heady cocktail of anguish and rage. A familiar cocktail. Potent. Overwhelming. And there had always been just one person responsible for making him feel like he wanted to see blood, weep to the heavens, and self-destruct all at once.
Knives, you bastard. How could you be so careless!?
The radioactivity served as a battery to their kind. It must have lit Knives right up. He should have noticed. Knowing the old SEEDs ship was there, he should have considered the possibility of a disintegrated generator contaminating the water table before he even...
Vash cringed again, stifling a whimper. The memory of Angela's choked, stammering words replayed over in his head. It's…it's everywhere. In her lungs. Her stomach. Her skin is weakening, and will start to grow sores soon. She might have a month. I don't know.
A choked sob lodged in his throat, and he scrunched his eyes shut and banged his head softly against the wall. The door swooshed open, and closed shut. He didn't even look up, recognizing the overalls in his peripheral vision as Milly's. She hesitated when she saw him. On any other occasion he would have greeted her with a smile, but at the moment, she didn't even get an acknowledgement.
She paused. He knew she was looking at him. Could feel her eyes on his crown. Could feel her sympathy. Without a word, she knelt down between his knees, leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him. He resisted. "Milly…"
She said nothing, and held him tighter. Before too long, he gave in, soaking her shirt with his frustrated tears. "All he had to do was love her," he spoke roughly, venting. "I trusted him."
"I know," she whispered.
"If I knew that he'd just end up killing her, I would have never--" his voice hitched and he buried his face in her bosom. "I've seen death. I've caused it. I expect it. But not this time," he cried. "Not her!"
Caressing hands stroked his hair and back. "Vash…" Her voice didn't waver. She was in perfect control. A pillar of strength. He envied it.
"The treatments for cancer have been lost, and even if we could somehow duplicate them in the days that remain, it's too far progressed. And she can't be healed like a plant angel, because the radiation we use for that process is the very thing that's killing her! How can you be so strong at a time like this, Milly?" he asked bewilderedly, pulling his tear-streaked face back to stare at the dry, blue eyes of his co-worker. "How!?"
She smiled reassuringly at him, in a way that only Milly could. Her response was simple, but it left him speechless with its profundity.
"Because she's alive."
.
.
The human stomach and its neighboring vital organs floated in a luminescent blue hologram above the panel. It was vivisected, angled and magnified as Knives studied another simulated progression of the disease. The visual taunted him. Made his heart hurt. He was a genius. Almost 150 years of meticulous planning, study and invention – yet not a single minute of that had been dedicated to curing human diseases.
Another intermittent anxiety attack tightened his chest.
He grimaced it away as his fingers tapped harshly on the panel, blipping the hologram about, and pulling up raw data on its contents. The cursed file was no different from the rest. They all covered the gruesome symptoms. Treatments. But not for something this big. His Meryl was saturated with it. She needed a cure. But there was no cure, and the chances of him inventing one in time…
Shit. I don't even know where to begin… Another set of chronic tears leaked out of his eyes, and he absently wiped them away. The light of the panel was starting to make him see dots, and his peripheral vision blackened. They'd been back a day and a half, and he'd spent the entire time up here in a blind panic, searching…
I can't… I can't lose her!
"There you are!"
Nerves raw, Knives jumped and swiveled towards the door as Meryl came bursting through it with her hands in fists. The circles under her eyes had started to darken, and she looked more pale, less frightened, and more irate than when he saw her last. Her pacing was slightly uneven as she marched up to him, and he reflexively stood to steady her, but she jabbed her finger in his chest, making him sit back down.
She was still a firecracker, despite her condition. His eyes watered again, realizing how much he loved her spunk. He loved everything about her. In the days that lay ahead, her life essence would continue to ebb…
"Will you stop looking at me like I'm dead!?" she yelled, leaning forward to roughly rub the tears off his cheeks. He let her.
"I'm sick of it!"
His jaw hung part open, as his miserable face tilted back to meet hers. Thoughts of losing her wouldn't dislodge from the forefront of his mind, and the regrets came pouring forth, unchecked. If only I'd listened to her, and rested before edifying the oasis. I would have noticed. If only I'd checked the weather… If only--
"If only, if only, if only! I know you're sorry. Yes, you should have listened. And I'm angry with you, alright?" she shouted, wagging a finger in his face. "Furious! But it doesn't mean I want you holed up here for the rest of my days!"
"…I'm trying to find a treatment. I have to find a treatment," his voice wavered, and his jaw muscles jumped. "I can't bear the thought of losing--"
"I know that. I understand that. But if these last few tolerable days are spent being robbed of your presence while I still have the capacity to enjoy it, then I'll be a damn bitter ghost."
His vision blurred again. He didn't even try to hide it from her. She was his salvation. She'd rescued him both from hell and insanity. His inability to cope with this was overwhelming. She wanted to be with him, and he wanted her to live. He couldn't give up searching for a cure… But before he could express that, she grabbed him by the ears, tugged his face up and kissed him. He made a small, startled noise against her mouth, and she plunked in his lap before he could start apologizing again, and caged him against the back of his chair.
She succeeded in distracting him from his tunnel vision, and his hands gradually found her waist as he relived the closeness that was still so new between them. When his limbs had relaxed, she moved her lips to his ear and spoke with a soft desperation that made him buckle. "Will you be able to love me in the days that remain?"
A choked whisper. "Yes."
"Then marry me."
His eyes widened, teared, and spilled over. He nodded.
.
.
THREE WEEKS LATER
Meryl slid the bathroom door shut quietly, with one last peek at the slumbering plant angel in her bed. The moonlight that cascaded through the atrium window reflected off his shimmering skin, still damp with sweat. He was sprawled in the sheets, half-exposed with his head peacefully lolled to the side…chest rising and falling with deep regulated breathing. He was out. Granted, after the last few hours, he damn well should be.
The door clicked shut, and she leaned back against it, staring at the ceiling in bewilderment. What the hell is going on? I couldn't even tolerate his touch the few evenings before last…
She ran her tongue across a kiss-swollen lip, and went over their nocturnal hours together since that rushed ceremony 21 days ago. She'd been relieved that he'd at least taken a few hours away from his research to give her his nights. But the first week of being with Knives had hurt. A great deal. It was awkward, and painful, and it boggled her mind how two people could fit together like that when things obviously didn't fit. She'd hold her breath, and grit her teeth, enduring it. And not wanting to cause her anymore pain, he was a weepy mess, but she made him go through with it anyways, believing it would get better…craving to enjoy that closeness with him before it was no longer possible.
And she was right. By the second week, she finally understood what the big deal was as her body finally acclimated to his intimacy. But days later the cancer had progressed from chronic exhaustion and soreness to an extremely uncomfortable state. She couldn't keep much down after that, and chrnoic nosebleeds had ruined most of her clothes. Her skin's itchiness evolved into open wounds, and she began to have bouts of vomiting blood coupled with difficulty breathing, and outright fainting. Soon she couldn't even let him hold her without it hurting.
Depression had started to set in then. It set in for everyone. Vash could no longer even force a smile at that point, his eyes leaking whenever he was in the room. Angela and her sisters worried over her wakeful moments constantly, their distress more spiritually debilitating than Meryl's disease. And Knives – when he wasn't holed up in his control room searching for a reversal of the cancer that was killing his wife – he was sitting miserably by her side, unable to even make eye contact or look her in the face. His constant apologies and agony were swallowing her whole. Even little Kylie couldn't lift his spirits. Or anyone's for that matter.
Meryl didn't realize what an emotional backbone she'd been for the whole community until she saw it start to fall apart because of her condition. If it weren't for Milly, who for some reason seemed to have a different perspective, Meryl might have resorted to something drastic to end her pain so they all could move on. Her old comrade had become the pillar of support. For everyone. Especially Vash. Thank heavens, because the cancer had rendered Meryl utterly useless.
Then, suddenly...it stopped getting worse.
Days passed. She endured. No progression, no digression. Her abdomen still hurt, she still felt and looked frail, still bled from places she shouldn't be bleeding... A plateau of consistent, but not worsening pain.
Then yesterday morning, she'd awoken with less agony. Much less. She was actually able to keep breakfast down. And lunch. The food gave her energy, and the energy made her want to do things she hadn't been able to do in days. Not a single bloody nose. She hadn't fainted since the night before. The pessimist in her was drawing parallels to the calm before a sandstorm, and figured she'd enjoy it before the awful death claimed her life.
And enjoy it, she did.
Meryl paused in front of the mirror, leaning in until her nose was an inch away from its reflective surface. Aside from a flushed face, her visage seemed less ailed. Still thin, but not gaunt. She could see the purple dots against the lavender prisms of her irises. The whites of her eyes were actually white, and not streaked with red. Her skin, which had begun to look sallow, and yellow, seemed to have a healthy sheen restored to its ivory paleness. And the half dozen sores on her arms and legs…
My word… Are they scabbing over?
The lighting. Must be the lighting, she thought reflexively. But the lighting didn't explain several hours of fun she'd just had, when she'd been the one doing most of the work! Knives probably thought her sudden randy behavior was some subconscious attempt to choose the time and manner in which she died. He kept treating her like she was made of glass, repeatedly stopping to ask, 'Are you sure? Are you sure? This isn't hurting you? Are you sure?'.
Meryl rolled her eyes, reflecting back. She wasn't trying to commit suicide, for crying out loud. She was just in the mood. She placed a hand on her stomach. The soreness…she'd forgotten about it. And her lungs…her breathing was regular. It must have attacked my nervous system, and killed some of the nerves, she thought. That's why it doesn't hurt as much now…
Yet she could still feel the coolness against her skin, and the circulating air against her bare legs. Meryl focused on her reflection one more time…on the disheveled "after" look of her hair. It hung about her face and shoulders like an obsidian mop. Knives liked it messy. He actually said so, last week. She ran her right hand through it, pulling it back from her face…
And froze.
What the…?
She looked more closely. At the base of her roots…her hair…her perfectly black hair was turning white. Intrigued fingers sifted through the strands, realizing that it was only affecting the top half of her head, ears up. She plucked a hair out and studied its base, where the discoloring was occurring. No more than 1/8th of an inch, but definitely white. And not white and kinky. White and healthy. The small fraction of the hair that had lost its color didn't seem like it was dying…
She met her own eyes in the mirror. Is this a symptom? She glanced at the shower and then glanced at the door. Curiosity mingled with a barely contained hope. She archived it long enough to take a much-needed shower, and then threw a quick robe on over her still-wet body and turned off the light.
Opening the door, she could hear Knives' deep breathing. She was going to sneak out, but seeing him laying there, so vulnerable and naked and warm and slumbering…
Just one more kiss…
She walked softly across the floor and knelt on the bed over him, resting her fingers on his hip as she leaned down to brush her lips over his.
He gasped lightly at her touch, misinterpreting her intent. With a clumsy haste, he grabbed her hand and pulled it away from that region, flattening it against his chest while making a sound somewhere between an apology and a whimper. "It's s-s-sensitive…"
She stifled a chuckle, blushing. "Relax. I was just going to kiss you."
"Mmm.." He lifted his chin, and she did so.
"I'll be right back."
"Are you... How d'you feel? Shouldn't you lie down? Wh-where are y'going?"
She met the inquiries with a casual lie. "I'm just hungry. Go back to sleep."
Too exhausted to argue, he sank back down into the sheets, and she walked briskly out. It was around midnight, as she sauntered down the stairs and through the halls and chambers with more hurry than she could contain. Angela's cabin was on the other side of the ship, and not only were they friends – Angela knew human and angel anatomy better than any of them.
Don't get your hopes up, don't get your hopes up, Meryl chanted in a mantra as her bare feet brushed over the soft grass. Her legs wanted to run, so she let them. But her quick movement caught the eye of a certain individual who had been camped out by the small waterfall, staring up out the window. He must have been unable to sleep.
She saw Vash, just as he saw her. Distracted, she stumbled, and he jumped up to catch her, actually making it in time with that super fast speed of his. His hair sagged about his brow, and he was in his pajamas, but his emerald eyes were wide and worried, and his hand gripped her arm.
"Meryl…"
Too impatient to explain things, and not wanting to get his hopes up, she quickly disengaged her arm from his grasp. "I'm fine. I just need to see Angela is all," she said brushing past him. He of course followed her, trotting behind like a worried puppy.
"Wh…why?"
She said nothing. They turned the bend, and she barely stopped herself in time to knock a warning before she opened the door and barged in. A form silhouetted black against the darkness sat up alarmed from her bed, and Meryl palmed the light.
Angela's large, lashless black orbs blinked dumbly as they adjusted, and her horizontal teeth clicked like mandibles as she tried to orientate herself and cope with the sudden appearance of her two guests.
"V-Vash? Meryl?"
Vash, no less confused, simply shrugged. Meryl closed the door, and sat down next to the plant angel, rattling off in a hushed whisper. "I want you to check me."
"Check…you?"
"I want you to see where the cancer is at."
Angela's face grew unbearably sad, and Meryl didn't even want to look at Vash. "Just do it. Please."
After a heavy pause, Angela nodded, and scooted over, allowing Meryl to lay down flat on her bed with her limbs straight, and face held upright. Vash knelt down beside them, his worry mingling with something else as he studied her face. She caught his trailing thoughts as he finally noticed it.
She…she looks different…
"Turn your head, Vash," Meryl said anxiously. "I'm not dressed under this."
He hadn't even heard her.
"Vash," she said more firmly.
"Oh…" he forcefully looked at the wall as Angela slipped her hands in Meryl's robe, palming her chest with one hand and her abdomen with the other. Meryl adjusted the robe around her wrists. "Okay. I'm covered."
He looked back, and Meryl held her breath as the tingling of Angela's anatomical reading began to tickle her skin. She watched the plant angel's face mutely, looking for any signs of recognition. Understanding. Horror. Anything…
But instead, Angela's brow drew tight in the center, and she frowned at Meryl's torso. Sadness had given way to confusion. Her warm, long hands moved from spot to spot; over her heart, ribs, neck, and scalp. More frantic. More searching. She noticed the whitening hairline, pushing Meryl's bangs back off her face. "Your hair…"
"I know."
"How do you feel?" she inquired.
Meryl paused. "Good," she uttered in disbelif, finally saying it outloud. "I feel good." She actually heard Vash's heart beat quicken, and had a moment's regret. If this doesn't turn out to be what I think it is, then it'll be like telling him I'm dying all over again…
Angela opened her mouth to say something, then she closed it, pursed her lips, and eyed Meryl seriously. She'd picked up on something. Meryl could see it in her face.
"What? What is it?" Meryl breathed, trying to sit up.
Angela pushed her back down. Her face a sudden mask. "Just…stay still. And be silent. Both of you. I want to monitor you for at least an hour. I want to be sure…"
"Sure? Of what?" Meryl asked.
"What's happening?" Vash echoed.
Angela shook her head mutely. She wasn't divulging anything yet, no doubt unwilling to raise or dash any hopes until whatever it was, was confirmed. Meryl understood the situation, and forced her fidgeting limbs to be still. It was probably the longest hour of her life. Angela closed her eyes and fell into a state of meditation, and Meryl felt her subtle probes observing and lingering in places that had previously been so sore. Her thoughts didn't stray far from this moment, and the anticipation was killing her.
She wasn't the only one. A warm callused hand nudge her wrist a few minutes in, and she turned to see her emotions mirrored in perfect clarity on Vash's anxious face. He tried to smile reassurance for her, but it didn't quite make it up to his distressed eyes. Looking at him like that, by her side, supporting her in this moment…it suddenly struck her how much they had never talked about.
Regarding them.
There were unspoken confessions, and old sentiments never quite expressed. And after everything Knives had told her out in the desert about Vash… She could've brought it all up. They could have had that conversation that she'd yearned to have for so many years.
But...was it still necessary?
Her feelings were at peace. She no longer felt like their potential was sadly unrealized when she looked at him. Their relationship no longer needed a mutual attraction for her to feel it was complete…because it was complete. Just like this. Unique and special and significant. Love, without the necessity of being in love. No less strong, and no less real.
She had no regrets…just a nostalgic wistfulness over a what-might-have-been. She flipped her hand up and curled her fingers through his. For all the things never said…
He picked up on something, and slowly straightened as they locked stares. Meryl smiled ruefully from her spot on the pillow and squeezed his hand. Life has already moved us beyond the point of saying it, hasn't it, Vash?
Mild surprise opened his features, and then the little boy in him seemed to disappear. He squeezed her hand tightly in return, saying more with his expression than he could ever say with words. Yeah...
You know I love you, she said.
His bottom lip began to quiver. His face scrunched, and eyes watered.
Meryl snorted. Oh, for heaven's sake. Don't cry about it!
Sniff. Squeak. "ILOVEYOUTOO!!"
Shhhh!" Angela snapped.
Vash hiccupped and swallowed it down, wiping his face on the sheets, while Meryl started to shake with barely repressed giggles.
"And you. Stop laughing," Angela reprimanded.
"S-sorry," she said, and bit her tongue, reaching out to catch Vash's retracting hand before he could pull it away. She held it for support the rest of the hour, taking what little comfort she could in his steadfast presence - contemplating, and worrying, and waiting…
It seemed endless, and she could no longer distract herself with anything. Then finally…finally Angela withdrew her hands from Meryl's robe, and sat back on her heels, the tension ebbing away from her shoulders. Meryl's skin felt like it was tingling, and she wasn't sure if it was the aftereffects of the exam, or just dreaded anticipation.
Vash gripped her hand until it hurt, but Meryl hardly noticed. "A-Angela?" she inquired, holding her breath.
The plant angel inhaled deeply, pursed her lips and the mask of concentration started to fall. Those giant black orbs shimmered like spilled oil, and she nodded the affirmative.
"Well?" Meryl and Vash asked in unison.
"It's morphing your body to accommodate its growth. It's emulsifying the cancer into raw energy."
"What?" Meryl cried. "What is!?"
Angela smiled warmly. "The baby."