The Sky is Too Far

Chapter 3 - (Cold)

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Hello everyone! I apologize for the wait, I had my cousin over the past few days, but it's given me time to gnaw on this chapter as well as the next few! Thus meaning I might be able to update a little faster for a while here, hoorah! I'm sorry I made you guys (almost) cry, I didn't mean to... ¬___¬;; (coughcough) ..Er...Well! On to Chapter Three!!

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Several days had passed now, without much happening. Milly and Meryl both spent their time brooding over Vash and his brother, while Vash himself spent most his hours sitting beside a sleeping Knives, his mind in a complete disarray.

He hadn't seen either of the girls since yesterday morning, and even in the brief conversation they'd held over breakfast, he'd been able to tell... something was wrong.

With her.

He could hear it in her voice, and the way she moved constantly as though no certain way she sat was comfortable, but most of all, he could see it in her eyes. Or, would have saw it in her eyes, had she looked at him.

He sat now, hunched over in the wooden chair that he'd dragged to set beside Knives' bed, staring at the floor with such intent, one might think he was expecting the floor boards to jump up and salute a "howdy-doody t'ya" any second. He was lost, though. His thoughts fell back to yesterday, to those quick moments.

She wouldn't look into his eyes. Not directly, atleast. Whenever she did turn her head to glance up at him, her gaze had always been directed at his ears or his shoulders, or even his forehead.

She'd been avoiding meeting his gaze while trying to make it seem as though everything was perfectly fine.

He remembered, she'd been hunched over the table, clasping a cup of coffee, staring down into the half-empty cup when he'd wandered in, stretching and howling out a fine "Rrrr'aaah, Morning!" to them both. Milly had responded with the same enthusiasm as she always did....

"Oh! Morning Mr. Vash! You look happy!"

He'd grimaced, though rather sarcastically, taking note of the rather down Meryl.

"Yeah? Y'think so? That's good, I am feelin' pretty fine!"

A pause to address what was, in his opinion, a rather mysterious-yet-all-around-sexy look.

Milly had laughed.

Meryl still hadn't looked up from her coffee.

He had begun to feel a bit concerned over her then. She hadn't responded to him at all this morning. It was.. out of place for her. His mind egged him towards her words that night.. when he'd awoken. He'd been listening to her, memories flooding back to him while she spoke in that hushed tone, and then he'd remembered, and had interrupted her.. wanting to know where...

Now that he thought about it, what was it she had wanted to tell him? Somehow he had a vague idea, and glancing at her as he'd taken a seat beside her, something in his heart was being tweaked.

"Heh-Hey! You look a little down'in the dumps there, Meryl. Sleep alright?"

This was when she'd looked at him for the first time... or, atleast, pretended to look at him.

"Yes, I slept fine. It was a bit... cold... though."

She'd looked away, her gaze falling back to her cup. Her answer had caught him off-guard. Her voice had seemed so... empty. There wasn't even the slightest trace of the heel-nipping, tongue-biting Meryl that he so knew and cared for.

Milly had blinked, leaning over towards Meryl then, (who wouldn't shift her gaze, still), looking a bit worried.

"Cold? Are you feeling sick, Meryl?"

She'd begun to shake her head, but Vash had cut in.

"Well if you're sick, that means you won't be nagging at me all day long, and I fear that might mean the end of the world! Sleep, I say!"

He'd been stunned into an uncomfortable silence, receiving from her exactly the opposite of what he'd expected. Lashing out, yelling, and head-throbbing knuckle-punches seemed out of her reach today.

She'd turned and actually looked at him for the first time all morning, but what had really shocked him (and internally, scared him), was the fact that there had been nothing in that gaze. Nothing.

"Yes, I think I will."

She had left, leaving her cup behind. Still half-empty.

He hadn't seen her since then, all day she'd stayed in her room. He'd passed Milly on his occassional route to the bathroom, or visit to the refridgerator, and she'd smile a bit warily, as if something was bugging her, as well.

Now, it was rather early. What? 3AM? He'd barely slept at all, an hour or two at most, but now he felt rather awake. What the hell was wrong with her? She certainly didn't seem sick... just... quiet.

(Empty..)

He lifted his head, running a hand through his hair, (tugging at the blond strands a bit), glancing to Knives. He was still asleep... which was rather worrisome, but his mind was focused on Meryl right now.

What had she wanted to say, that she'd felt for so long? Could it have been...

He threw a rather heavy sigh, standing up suddenly, stretching aching muscles before quietly making his way out the door and down the hall, starting, waiting, and retrieving a grateful cup of coffee, taking a rather greedy gulp of the scalding black liquid, closing his eyes as it burned down his throat.

What was it?

He started back to Knives' room, his gaze slightly out-of-focus as he moved and concentrated on his thoughts, though this was all rudely, heart-wrenchingly interrupted as he passed Meryl's room.

His brisk steps stopped a bit too fast, grimacing as hot coffee spilled over his hand, dripping on the floor. But that didn't really matter right now, because what he heard caught his attention, and held it fast, digging a clawed hand into his stomach.

She was crying.

He could hear her, and it tore at his heart standing and doing only that. Hearing her. He hadn't the slightest idea what could be troubling her so much... and the fact that he'd now witnessed her crying, sent him into a higher level of panic. She was.. crying.

Unable to keep to himself, he rapped gently against the door with his knuckle, leaning against it slightly, though he wouldn't enter her room without her permission.

"Meryl, are you alright?"

There was a sudden stifiling of sobs, rustle of sheets and the creak of a mattress as he assumed she was quickly leaping back into bed, an attempt to make it seem as though everything were... normal.

A false voice, portraying a tired owner.

"Yes, I'm fine..."

"Can I come in?"

Something like a loss of will to argue.

"I'm fine, really-"

A hushed request, uttered through a wooden barrier.

"Please?"

Surrender.

"..... Yes."

He opened and slipped through the door rather gracefully, moving as though he hadn't a care in the world to a smaller table where he set down his morning nourishment, gliding around the bed to sit at it's edge, next to her feet (which curled up beside her leg the moment he sat beside her), it creaking daintily in protest to his added weight.

She had her head turned, staring out the window, cleverly hiding a face that he knew was stained and marked trails of tears. He followed her example, and gazed outside. Neither of the suns were up yet, it was morning, but it was dark.

And cold.

"What's wrong, Meryl?"

His voice was all-too-serious, but she seemed undaunted, keeping up her act.

"Nothing..."

He took a brisk, yet still extremely patient tone.

"Please don't lie to me..."

She seemed to flinch, drawing back the slightest bit, her head bowing. He could see her eyes were closed.

"Nothing is wrong, Vash. It's very early."

Her voice seemed to waver and break slightly, as if she felt she were losing the battle. He was determined to win, and when he spoke again, his voice was nothing more than a thrumming whisper. He was looking at her.

"It's also very cold, isn't it?"

Her head jerked up slightly, her eyes open, those sooty hues deceiving her and portraying the exact astonishment and bewildered hurt that eluded her words. She stared at him for a long while, and he gazed back.

Turquoise observing gray with a patient, attractive warmth.

"Talk to me, Meryl."

She felt as if she were going to burst into tears.. again. Why did he even care?

"I ... I can't."

His gaze never left hers, as she thought it would have, he didn't frown in disapproval and shake his head at her answer. But he didn't smile, either.

"Alright."

Why was he so patient? Why was he so understanding? Why didn't he try to pry the answer from her? Why was he Vash? Why did it have to be him? Why.... couldn't he see...

Her throat clenched as she fought back tears that threatened to spill in their persuasive manner. She wanted, at that moment, more than anything else, to simply throw herself against him, for him to hold her tight, and cry into his shoulder, his chest, to him, just cry and tell him.

But she couldn't. He'd never accept that. He'd never fall into and follow her dreams so perfectly.

She finally looked away, back out the window, thankful for the act, and yet regretting it desperately. He remained where he was, still watching her, making her uncomfortable (and yet comforted at the same time), trying to, one last time, get her to tell him what was wrong. It was to no avail.

She heard him sigh, closing her eyes as she felt the bed shift as he stood. She listened for his steps but was not rewarded with the sound, not, atleast, until after his finger had brushed her cheek, wiping away a single tear that had managed to escape.

She listened to him leave, listened to the door shutting, to his steps down the hall, the door to Knives' room.

He had left his coffee, but she didn't think he'd want it now anyway.

It was cold.