God, I'm so sorry that this took so long! Firstly, you all know that I went on a trip to Europe, but obviously, that doesn't account for the entire wait. I assumed that I'd be all inspired when I came back and turn into some kind of writing fool, but as soon as I started on this chapter, I realized I had no idea what to write nor where I was going with it.

Not that I know even now exactly where this story's going (though what I do know will be a surprise for everyone, well, except for a few of my friends). Anyways, here you go, people. This is the chapter when they get it figured out…kinda. I'm pretty proud, so I hope all ya'll enjoy it.

Special reviewer-lurve to:

Molly-chan the Anime/game fan, Sforzando, KaikaNozomi, Rachel, Rosebud, Shahrezad1, Malster, Alucard2, Auren Hannan, Keeosu-Kei, Kabashka, WW, AmoebaFive, cuteepi96@aol.com, DecoyNeko, FallenStardust, Ayame Ito, V Keller, Kiosukette, Saiyan Butterfly, and Morlana (duuuude!).

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I think I knew how stupid and potentially harmful to my health it was to walk into Meryl's apartment without knocking or anything, but at the time I wasn't exactly thinking things through as thoroughly as I should have been.

Her small but tidy apartment was perfectly suited to Meryl's personality, simple and practical with little excess. Stacks of paper stood at attention on her table, and I could see coffee mugs lined up neatly through the glass door of her cabinet. I had a lingering suspicion that they were arranged alphabetically by the name of their color.

I poked my head around the corner, to be greeted with the sight of another room that seemed to contrast starkly with what I had seen so far. It appeared to be living room that had at one time been orderly, but now looked as if some starving artist and all of his possessions had taken up residence in it. The coffee table had been shoved off to one side, replaced by a paint-spattered, though relatively new-looking easel. Tubes of paint, brushes of every shape and size, and piles of unused paper and canvass were stacked on top of a teetering end table.

"Hm, never really took Meryl for an artist. None of this seems like her at all. Like an entirely different person…" Suddenly, a surge of burning jealousy shot through me at a thought. Maybe she has some artist boyfriend who lives with her…a lover…

My blood boiled, and it took a supreme act of will to bring my focus back to the task at hand.

"Meryl?" I called out hesitantly. "Are you home?"

No reply.

I stuck my head down a hallway, observing the row of closed doors. I crept gingerly down the hallway and stuck my head inside the first door, gritting my teeth at the slight creaking noise it made as it opened. A bathroom, just as neatly organized as the kitchen had been. After a quick perusal, I concluded that all of the products were distinctly feminine. At least the ones I could see. For I knew, he might keep his stuff out of sight. Or have nonexistent hygiene. But I was about to go digging through her bathroom, as that probably wouldn't reflect well on me when she found out, I concluded philosophically.

I closed the door carefully, and continued down the hallway. The next door opened with an even louder screech and I froze for a moment, expecting to see Meryl barreling down the hallway at me, eyes blazing. When nothing happened, I continued, not without a slight sigh.

This room was a bed room. Probably not the main one since it appeared to be completely unoccupied and probably hadn't been for a while. The bed was neat but covered with a thin layer of dust, as was all of the other furniture in the room. Well, no hubby in here. Unless, of course, he sleeps in her bed. That evil little voice in the back of my head cackled.

I closed that door and cautiously eyed the one last door in the hallway. This one opened without so much as a squeak, gliding open with the slightest touch on well-oiled hinges.

There was a figure on this bed. A figure, I noted with relief, and no indication of anyone else ever having recently slept in here. The figure was fully clothed and curled up in a ball, most definitely Meryl-sized.

I eased into the room, shutting the door quietly behind me. My eyes drank in her appearance like a man dying of thirst drinks the sweetest nectar. They traced the line of her back, her hips, her legs, the slightest curve of her feet. My hands itched to reach out and touch her to confirm that she was actually there. Unconsciously, I stepped forward, my foot unfortunately landing on a creaky board which let out a loud groan.

I froze like a thomas in headlights, waiting breathlessly for the figure to stir. To my intense relief, it didn't.

But just as I'd relaxed, there was a blur of white and I blinked to find myself staring down the barrel of a derringer into the burning gray eyes of Meryl Stryfe.

I muttered some lame excuse and waited for the blow to fall.

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"V-vash?" I repeated, feeling my heart do an odd kind of flip-flop maneuver as my knees turned strangely weak. I became aware that the hand holding the gun was shaking, so I slowly lowered it. I felt my knees just about give out and sat down heavily on the bed. "How--why are you here?"

"If you want me to leave, I will," Vash said, looking thoroughly miserable. The look was, however, lost on me as I distractedly attempted to look at anything in my room but him.

"Um…" I was truly at a loss. What was Vash doing in my bedroom? How did he know where I lived? Was I really awake or just dreaming?

"I'll go then," I definitely recognized the disconsolate tone of his voice that time.

I jumped up quickly and grabbed his arm just as he was about to exit my room. "Wait, Vash!"

He stopped and turned to look at me, quirking an eyebrow curiously.

I blushed and looked down at the floor to hide it. "I mean, it would be impolite of me to make you go without getting you a cup of coffee or something."

I couldn't see his face, but I have a feeling Vash smiled.

"Yeah, coffee would be nice."

As he followed me down the hallway, I was uncomfortably aware of his gaze burning into my back. My mind was still too sleep-clouded to be able to fully comprehend his presence. A coffee would probably do me some good, too.

We entered the kitchen, and I motioned silently for him to sit down at the table. From the sound of scraping chair legs behind me, I figured he had done so.

My body turned onto autopilot as I completed the blessedly familiar task of making coffee. The lack of the need to concentrate on the physical task left my mind to ponder. Waking up with him standing over my bed, it was almost, well…stalker-ish. I always knew Vash was weird but I never figured him to be that weird. Besides, he had no reason to stalk me. Most likely, he had some completely crazy and unbelievable story to explain to me that I had no choice but to believe because he was Vash and that was the way he was. I sighed as I turned around, carrying the two mugs.

"Milk and four sugars, right?" I asked, recalling with slight amusement how Vash always ordered coffee.

"No, I probably need it black right now." Vash said in a serious, deep voice that I only rarely heard him use.

I raised my eyebrows in puzzlement, but set the two cups down on the table, taking the seat opposite Vash. We sat there for a few minutes in silence as Vash stared at his coffee, his expression unreadable. Suddenly, I was reminded with shocking clarity of the night we had gone to New Virginia, the night Knives had awakened. It seemed like centuries ago, though I knew it had only been a few weeks since that happy, carefree day.

"So…are you going to say anything?" I interrupted my own thoughts abruptly, and apparently Vash's as well since his head jerked up to look at me in surprise, as if just now realizing I was there.

"Uh..." he glanced around the room, looking slightly trapped. "What do you want me to say?"

"Well, an explanation of exactly how and why you're here might be in the right direction," I couldn't help but be slightly amused. My expression quickly sobered, though. "Nothing happened with…Knives, did it?"

"Oh! Ah…no, nothing like that. In fact, there's some, er, interesting news in that point," he paused and glanced up at me nervously, as if afraid I might react violently when he told me. "Well, you see…um, my brother, Knives, I mean he's…lost his memory."

My must've hung open a bit for the minute or so I stared at him, because he let out a nervous little laugh.

"So, you mean, he's completely…he doesn't remember any of it?"

"I don't think so," Vash was serious again. "But I'm afraid he might get it back some time. Just today, he got kind of violent about it."

My eyes bulged. "He's HERE? In December? Right now? You can't bring someone like that into a city this big!"

"He won't do anything, though!" He leaned back slightly, holding his hand up defensively. "I swear, well, I'm almost completely sure he won't do anything!"

"'Almost completely'!?" I screeched, while some inner part of me wondered how just ten minutes of being around Vash could give me an ulcer. "Vash, this is one of the most addle-brained, insane—"

"He was the one who found you for me."

I think I actually forgot how to speak as the impact of those words, combined with the intense look Vash was giving me, hit me. My mouth flapped uselessly for a few moments, then gave up.

After a time—it could have been a millisecond or a millennium—my thought process restarted like a dam breaking and soon my brain was drowning in possibilities.

But despite all of the things I could have said, only one word escaped my lips. "Why?"

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"Why?"

Of all the questions she could ask…just that one word. God, I felt pathetic. How was I supposed to explain it all? I didn't know if there was enough time in the universe to explain it all. Then, I had a realization.

With just three small words I could explain it all. With just those three words, both of our lives would change. How could I look at her the same way after those three words had been spoken? What if she were to laugh? To look at me with cool gray eyes and calmly explain that she didn't like me that way. I wouldn't be able to bear it.

"I wouldn't run away."

Her voice came to me from the depths of memory. At the time, I had been too absorbed with other problems to think about them, but now I wondered. Perhaps…perhaps all that time, she had felt this same ache that I felt right now. Wishing, dreaming, she could speak those three words to me, but knowing that she never could.

Without my mind's consent, I felt my body rising from the chair and moving slowly to Meryl's side of the table, kneeling on the linoleum before her.

Perhaps she still wished…

"Because I love you." They came out of my mouth, unbidden, before I could even finish deliberating.

I felt myself staring into her deep gray eyes, dreading the moment when she would reply, wishing I could stay in this moment of silence forever. Her eyes drew me up and drew me in, their pull magnetic, irresistible.

"Oh Vash," her words were a whisper, practically a sob, before our lips met.

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Soooo…whaddaya think?