Okay, I reverted to the "traditional" story format in this chappy to see if I like it more, as opposed to the generally accepted "fan fiction" style. Well, the plot is back on its feet, after a minor slip in the flow of the author's "plot chi".

So enjoy this one, peoples! I put lotsa hard work in…

Thanks to:

Tamashi no Yume, Sforzando, FallenStardust, KaikaNozomi, Ana, WW, Molly-chan the Anime/game fan, Shahrezad1, nameless, Rosebud, and PuNkRoCkBuNnY182

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Bars in the city of December were a lot different from the dingy, small-town saloons that I was used to.

Instead of shady-looking outlaws and bounty hunters smoking, cursing, and gambling, there was an assortment of business men who had apparently just gotten off work, and were sitting around, exchanging amicable banter about work and their home lives, while drinking small amounts of alcohol. All was relaxed and calm, almost friendly.

How different this is from the rest of the world, I though absently as I followed Wosh over to a small, secluded table near the back of the room.

"You two stay here, alright?" He wagged a finger at us as if he were talking to two disobedient dogs.

"Yes sir," Knives said mockingly.

Wosh's lips twitched is a hint of a smile. "I have to talk to some old friends. I'll be back in a while." With that, he turned and strode off to a back room somewhere.

After a few moments of silence, Knives turned to me.

"Vash, why haven't you told me about my past yet? You obviously know much more than the few scattered images I can scrounge up from my mind, but you've never said anything."

He stopped there, but I could see other questions unsaid that flashed in his eyes. Questions that I didn't want to answer right now. I also saw suspicion, I saw confusion, and I even saw some sadness.

"Knives…" I started. I really had no idea how to do this. I decided to be as truthful as possible. "I'm sorry, I truly am, that I can't tell you the entire story of your past right now. I don't even know the whole of it. But I just can't. I'm not sure what you would do if it came back to you. And I think that if you knew, you might do something that would go against everything I believe in. I will tell you, though. When the time is right."

Knives jumped up from his chair and slammed both hands onto the table with such force it almost collapsed, his eyes blazing in sudden violent anger. "When Vash? When will that time be? Once you've regained your beloved Insurance Girl and have ensured your happiness! What about me? Do you expect me to wait here in the agony of not knowing even who I am, following you around like a lost puppy waiting for a scrap of food from its master! Hoping against hope that maybe you'll give me some tiny bit of information! How long will it be, Vash?"

Some of the bar's other occupants sent him shocked glances and I swallowed slowly. "Knives, please sit down." I said softly, almost pleading.

"You're such a stupid, selfish fool, brother." This time, the absolute calm of his words alarmed me more than his previous rage. Each syllable cut me like a cold, sharp blade, just like his name. "It's always about you, isn't it?"

This time it was my turn to stand up in anger. Something he said had snapped something in me.

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about, Knives! Don't even pretend to know how many times I've been forced to give up the things and people I love just to protect everyone else. And I'm fed up to here with it!" I gestured violently. "I'm sick and tired of living for everyone else, and for once I'm going to do something to make me happy! Got that? So you'd better fucking put up with it or else you can kiss your past goodbye!"

Knives looked more than a little taken aback, and I felt a cruel little twist of satisfaction in seeing the shocked look on his face.

"Alright," he said stiffly. "For now we'll find your Meryl. But as soon as you two get things sorted out, I want to get some answers."

We sat down in unison, me feeling at least partially that we had gotten past a topic that had been causing a good amount of tension between us for the past few weeks.

We fell into a silence that was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, but it provided an opportunity for me to ponder Knives' reaction the events that had happened since he woke up.

It was clear to me that his loathing of humans wasn't a powerful enough factor in his subconscious that he constantly wanted to kill them. When the waitress brought us our drinks, he didn't glare at her in disgust as I imagined he would if he hadn't lost his memory. In fact, though his actions weren't exactly what I would refer to as sociable, he wasn't impolite or in the least bit disgusted by them. I realized that it must not have been in his inherent nature to dislike humans, just like it wasn't in mine.

But it might only be a matter of time before he decides to hate them again, my mind reminded me grimly. There was another thing I hadn't considered. What if his memory came back before he was sufficiently accustomed to living with and around humans? What would I do if he decided to revert to his past behavior and wipe out an entire city? Neither of us had our guns any more, so he wouldn't be able to use his Angel Arm, but he could use his psychic powers to cause just as many casualties.

Yet another unconsidered component. Did he even know that he had potentially deadly powers? He had implied the fact that he knew I was blocking him from reading my mind, but did he know the limits of his power? I doubted it.

At that moment, Wosh reappeared from the back room, crunching on a handful of cashews and toting a large phone book.

"Hey, kids," he grinned at us, apparently in a much better mood. "Have fun while I was gone?"

Knives "humphed" and I grunted noncommittally. Wosh stared at us for a moment before shrugging and dropping the heavy book unceremoniously onto the long-suffering table. He pulled up a chair and sat down, drawing a cigarette out of a hidden pocket in the recesses of his coat and balancing it between his lips as he flipped open a silver lighter.

"Have an addiction?" I asked, smiling slightly.

"Let's call it an escape," he grunted, taking a long draw from the cigarette and letting the smoke out slowly. "Found her yet?" He asked Knives, who had flipped open the book and was sliding his index finger down the page. After a moment, his finger halted on a name.

"Did you find her address?" I asked eagerly.

"Nope."

"What do you mean 'nope'?"

"I meant that I didn't find her."

"What kind of 133-year-old can't look up a person's name in a friggin' phone book?" Wosh asked with a slight smirk, breathing smoke out into Knives' face. "Sorry, man, but that's pretty pathetic."

Knives glared at the Wosh. "I didn't say I couldn't find it, I said I didn't find it. It's not there. There's no Meryl Stryfe in that phone book. She probably decided that she wanted to be unlisted."

"God, it's just one thing on top of another isn't it?" I moaned, running a hand through my hair.

"Well," said Wosh, standing up from the table and tucking the lighter into his pocket and picking up his hat. "Guess we're going to have to ask around a bit."

"You're kidding, right? This city is huge! Where do you expect us to start?"

"Well I, for one, am going to sniff around the Bernardelli Headquarters," said Wosh as we exited the bar, motioning towards a relatively massive building several blocks away.

"I'm and what if we don't find anything there?"

"'We'? No way, I'm not letting the world's first walking, talking Act of God anywhere near the Bernardelli building. They'd have employees swarming and poking and prodding and making you fill out forms before you could say 'legal action'. You and Knives should split up and scope out the apartment district on the west side of Main Street. I'll meet you two back here in three hours."

"Well you're sure taking charge of this situation quickly." Knives quirked an eyebrow.

Wosh shrugged. "Well it's the least I can do. After all, if I had been a more Insurance Girl-attracting outlaw, maybe Ms. Stryfe would never have gone home in the first place."

"Oh, so he does have a conscience after all! Isn't that sweet, Vash?"

"Would you two just cut the sarcasm and get going? It'll be getting dark soon and I don't want to have to find a hotel tonight!" I said, feeling impatient.

"Hoping you'll be spending the night in the Insurance Girl's bed instead then, eh, Vash?"

"I said, GET GOING!"

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Fired. Fired. I, Meryl Stryfe had been fired from my job. The word danced around evilly in my head as I numbly walked home, drowning in an ocean of self-pity.

Sure, the Chief hadn't used that word, but he might as well have said it. It almost would've been easier if he had stormed up to my desk and yelled "Stryfe, you're fired!" right in front of everyone. The shocked stares and whispers of my co-workers as I had walked out of the office might as well have been branded into my skin with a hot iron for the way they still stung me with every movement.

And the pity. The horrible pity-filled gazes of the Chief and my co-workers right down to Milly's were what really made it hurt. I couldn't stand the pity.

It seemed that the video record of the day—one of the worst I'd ever had—was playing on a repeating track around in my head, taunting me with every excruciating little detail. I barely noticed the long walk home. Only vaguely noticed walking into my apartment complex. And didn't notice at all the pale-blond haired man who watched me enter the building from the next corner.

I only really acknowledged that I was no longer in the office when I found myself in the small entryway to my apartment, automatically placing my keys on the small table next to the door.

I let out a sigh that was really more of a sob and stumbled blindly into the living room, where I was assaulted with a hundred aqua eyes boring into me. If Vash were here, he would probably say some stupid useless cliché like "Well at least you still have your health!" or some crap like that. At his memory and the simple fact of his absence, my vision blurred with tears.

"Why won't you just leave me alone!" I shouted at the paintings. "I don't want you here, you stupid broomstick-for-brains! Stop haunting me and my thoughts! I don't want you!"

With a sob, I picked up an armful of paintings and threw them into the closet, more quickly following them until it was full. The rest I shoved under the couch, all the while crying freely. When they were all out of sight, I fell against the wall and slowly slid to the floor, silent sobs wracking my body.

What did have left now? I thought for the millionth time today. The man I loved didn't even care enough for me to even try to stop me when I left, and the job which was my only escape from that sadness was now gone until I had "gotten over it". How was I supposed to get over it? I didn't have any experience with this kind of thing. What was it they said about loving and losing? I wish I had never loved in the first place. I wish it had never become anything more than just a job to me.

And yet, there was a part of me that agreed with that old adage. There was no feeling in this world that I had ever experienced which rivaled the feeling I got when Vash flashed me one of his rare true and genuine smiles. No feeling that felt as good as the one I felt when I stared into those sea-green eyes for too long, like drowning in a deep, sweet, warm, and beautiful ocean of happiness.

These thoughts only made me cry harder. The ache of that loss was the worst wound I've ever had. A wound that hadn't healed, only gotten worse with time, festering with some horrible, unknown infection.

I managed somehow to pick myself up from the floor and stumble to my bedroom, where I collapsed onto the bed, rolling myself into the fetal position and sobbing myself to sleep.

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After three hours of trying to convince a group of old ladies with hearing aids that I was looking for Meryl Stryfe and not a "sterile typewriter" and enduring the taunts of a few old men playing cards on a decrepit old porch for three hours, I trudged back to the meeting place, feeling hurt and gypped that I had obviously been given only the section of town where old people lived as my search area. I arrived there second apparently, seeing only Wosh leaning against a lamp post and smoking when I arrived.

"So, did you find anything out?" He asked.

"Nothing. Except that," I paused to check a scrap of paper I had been handed. "Mrs. Nesbit is 'ready for a good time', apparently as long as it involves Bingo Night at the Community Center at seven o'clock on Saturdays."

Wosh laughed quietly for a few moments before removing his cigarette and tapping off some of the ash onto the pavement. "Well, I was a little more successful than that. I got to Bernardelli just as the last of them were leaving. Apparently your Meryl got laid off today. They wouldn't tell me where she lives because apparently 'she has enough to deal with without some shifty guy poking around her house'."

"Meryl…fired?" I muttered in confusion. For some reason, those two words didn't fit together right in my head. "Are you sure it was the same Meryl? I can't imagine her ever being laid off. Quit, maybe, but being told to leave?"

Wosh shrugged. "I dunno, those were the only particulars I got."

"I can confirm what Weirdo says."

I spun around. Knives was walking calmly up to us.

"That my new nickname?"

"Yep."

"Great, I'll add it into the book between 'Black Devil' and 'Scourge of Humanity'."

I growled. "Could we please get back on topic? Knives, how can you confirm Wosh's story?"

"Because I saw her."

I felt my eyes widen to unnatural size, and the words themselves stumbled as they all tried to rush out of my mouth at once. "Wh—uh—y-you mean—where? How did she look? Was she okay?"

Knives' eyes sparkled with mild amusement. "I was just walking around the area when I saw her walk into an apartment building. At least I was pretty sure it was her from the description you gave me. His little 'getting fired' story only confirmed that it was her in my mind."

"How's that?"

"Well, I'll start with the fact that she looked like crap. Probably hadn't eaten in about three days, eyes all red and puffy, mascara smeared all around her eyes. Plus the fact that she nearly ran into about three fire hydrants. Seemed pretty distracted."

"Well where is she? Tell me!" I was practically ready to run off and do a building-by-building search myself if Knives didn't hurry the hell up.

"I wrote down the address," Knives dug through a pocket, eventually pulling out a scrap of paper, by which time I was about ready to rip open his pocket myself.

"He—"

I didn't even allow him to finish his word before snatching the paper and sprinting away in the direction he had come from.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Wosh started to follow until Knives snagged him by the collar of his coat.

"And where do you think you're going, Weirdo-boy?"

"To see Vash's Insurance Girl."

"I think not. Don't worry, they'll probably be busy until tomorrow morning." Knives snorted slightly in disgust. "You're coming with me. I need to ask a little favor…"

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I stirred a little in my sleep, feeling myself slowly waking up, withdrawing from some sad dream I couldn't remember. I shifted slightly on my bed and groaned. I hurt all over, was sore from head to foot.

I was about to try to slip back into the comforting oblivion of sleep when I became aware of the fact that I wasn't alone in my room. Yes, there most definitely was someone else in here. I had a gut feeling. My senses flared into alarm mode, and still feigning sleep, I let one hand slip to my emergency derringer that I kept strapped just inside my left sleeve. I waited, tensed for some indication of the position of the intruder, my ears tuning out all other senses.

Creak.

There it was, one of the floor boards behind me.

In one fluid movement, I rolled over, drew my gun, and aimed at the head of whoever dared to invade the privacy of my bed room.

Then I froze.

The person in question coughed nervously and held his hands up in an all-too-familiar sign of surrender.

"Er…I…um…well, the door was open."

"Vash," I whispered.

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Bwaha! Well, there was part 3. It was about two times longer than my average chapter, mostly because I had to get everything that led up to "the reunion" in, and also partially because unless I can crank out another chapter in a day and a half, this is gonna be the last before I'm gone for vacation in Germany and England for two weeks.