Author's Note: This is my first update in several months because I have been in the middle of writing my first non-fan fic novel. I'm looking forward to having the book published through I will keep you updated.
TWENTY-NINE: nothing else
He watched them for a time from the darkness of the gorge, well out of their line of sight, and he wondered. He wondered what it was like to have such a powerful love, a love that encompassed the whole of the heart and bound it to another so tightly that neither had room for anything more, a love so powerful that it filled the glass of life to the brim and beyond, spilling out and gracing the land upon which they walked with a happiness unmatched by any other emotion.
After a time, he slipped to the entrance of the cave and leaned against the rock face. He stared to the ground, his hair unbound so that it cascaded over his shoulders, golden bangs so thick and long that they spilled over his eyes and covered half of his face. He listened to Meryl's heartfelt apology, and his heart ached right alongside them.
You're lucky, Vash the Stampede. She's a strong woman, and she could be dedicated if she would only open her heart and realize just how strong she truly is.
Vash's voice spilled through his mind a moment later. I know.
Stryker turned his face to the older plant and bobbed his head slowly. Get some rest. He let the words drift to the man from whom Mortgante the Warhead had created him, using the arm Knives had stolen from him back at July, nearly a quarter of a century ago. It seemed unreal, the whole of it, and he didn't quite understand. His telepathic abilities were odd enough. He had never known them before Vash the Stampede. One thing was sure, had they not been connected in such a way, it would have only made it all the more difficult for him. Vash might not have been able to connect with him so quickly. Stryker might have forced him into a gunfight that would have ended with a death.
Vash was so quick and so skilled that Stryker believed he would not have won such a fight. But Vash had a thing against killing people, and would have attempted to protect a man even if he knew that man was a clone, and Stryker could have won given that truth. However, Stryker remembered the fight at Knives' personal prison, and with that knowedge he came to understand that Vash would do anything to protect the people he cared for.
Had that battle with his clone at the alien fortress ended with Vash's death, he would no longer be able to protect the girls. That's why Vash had chosen to take a life. He had chosen the lesser of two evils back at the SEEDS shuttle which destroyed hundreds of plant-spawn, all cloned in some way from the blood of the man that Meryl Stryfe clung to so desperately.
Understanding, a small smile crept across Stryker's lips. I love you, she had said. No matter who you are.
Stryker felt that he was quickly earning a place among them, though Vash had welcomed him with open arms from the beginning, despite the 8-shooter he had so ruthlessly shoved between the man's eyes. This way, he could feel more at peace with himself. This way, he had truly earned their trust. No one could turn that trust away, no one could ruin his newfound life but himself. So long as he stayed true to his heart and stood faithfully by Vash's side, Stryker would have a home among them.
That realization made his heart sing.
He stood with the woman who had adopted him, in the entrance of their home, overlooking the small farm his foster father had erected from nothing more than a few seeds, sweat, and tears. Off in the distance, the village plant could be seen, visible from within the cracked bowels of a fallen starship.
Alisa Ryker was a gentle woman, the first face he had seen in his new existence, the only existence in his memory. She clutched his hand with a proud smile as she showed him the world outside from the tiny room he had known, the room in which she had helped him to heal. He held her wrinkled hand, giving it a gentle squeeze that showed his appreciation. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it gently.
"Welcome home, Sean," she whispered.
He glanced at her. "Why Sean?" he asked quietly.
"Your father and I lost a baby once," she whispered. "We would have named him Sean, but I fell very sick late in the pregnancy. I was too weak to support two lives, and my body gave up on the baby and focused on healing itself." Tears glistened against her rosy cheeks. "We picked out the name Samantha for a girl and Sean for a boy. I guess we always liked the name."
He smiled sadly, gazing to her. "I like it, too," he whispered. "Mom."
She glowed through her sadness. She had her son, the son she had always desired, the son she could not give her husband. She would never be able to watch him grow. Sean had grown up long ago, as a man of a name she did not know, a man long forgotten. Regardless, she could see his smile and she knew he would protect her, that he would love her and Tristan for as long as he possibly could. Forever and always.
It lifted her spirits up and beyond the stars she knew so very little about to the heavens beyond. "Oh Sean," she whispered, wiping away fresh tears.
Stryker stood at the edge of the world and watched as a cluster of falling stars rained down from the heavens, filling the black, starlit sky with an explosion of color. There were some things about his life he regretted. He regretted not being able to remember anything about his life before the Rykers had taken him in and made him their son. He regretted his impatience with the farming life and his eagerness to leave the Rykers' land. He regretted that his last words with his foster father, a man who had loved him and offered him a life all his own, had been so selfish.
I'm leaving. I have to explore my purpose in this life. I can't do that sitting around out here in the middle of nowhere.
No more than that. Tristan had simply nodded and took his son's hand, a tear drizzling down his cheek. In the coming seconds, Sean learned the truth of something his foster parents had tried to instill in him since his first days with them, when he was conscious but bedridden.
Patience is a virtue, Sean. Remember that. Take with you the love your mother and I have for you, and understand that love will never die, but it will grow in you always. There is so much good in your heart. It's one of the first things I noticed about you the day you woke up.
He hadn't responded. In fact, he hadn't said anything following that brief lecture. They had been walking through town to meet Marian at the bank. He had thought about it, in the moment before tragedy struck as well as the yars that followed. He thought about it now and couldn't help but shed a tear in the memory of his fallen foster parents.
He had loved them so much, and he knew they had known.
He only wished he would have been able to say it one last time before death had taken them from him.
Meryl held him close to her heart. Tears fell from his eyes and soaked through the thin cloth of her blouse to the skin beneath. She ran her hand through his hair while the other rested so gently against his cheek, cradling him to her as if he were the most precious thing to hold. And to her, he was. She laid a gentle kiss to his forehead as he returned the affections she had shared with him. It made her glow, made her cheeks flush and her hands tremble.
Gone were the anger and the pain of earlier, replaced only by the gentleness that surrounded them. She softly and sweetly shushed away the pain, reassuring him with her touch that everything was all right and that the past hours were gone and forgotten. Lost to her were the feelings of rejection that had tortured her. There was only Vash in his pain and suffering, and he needed her desperately to love and hold him.
She held so much doubt within her, doubt that hung over them like a dangerous cloud awaiting to shield them and rain on their glorious revelations. She knew deep inside that if she were to ever succeed in becoming more than what she was, then she would have to pull back from that inner demon and become the strong person she needed to be, that she knew she could be. The person Vash needed her to be.
"You should rest," she whispered after a time, her eyes closing as she gently continued her hold of him against her. Her hand trailed down his cheek to rest on his shoulder. The night was so cold, but they were surrounded by the warmth of each other.
Now that they were together, nothing else seemed to matter.
Sleep claimed him, and he went without question.
Cradled comfortably within her arms like the baby Rem used to call him, Vash drifted off to sleep. It was a restless sleep, and he continued to tremble against her touch, unable to free himself of the tortures that tore so mercilessly at his soul. He felt Meryl against him, even in his sleep, and could feel the gentle breath against his cheek as she murmured oaths of love to him, words that came to him from a distance as he fought throught eh terros in his own realm of dreams. The world around him was cast in a heavy haze, and his heart would only be made heavier becasue of it.
He stirred in the darkness between sleep and wake. He could see only deep, inky blackness and sense nothing about him but the dry chill of oblivion. The frail beating of his heart and soft tingling in his ear left a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He could feel his head spinning wildly. He didn't know how long he had drifted in this mysterious purgatory, but he knew that it had been far too long.
A torrent of emotions raged through him—anger, embarrassment, envy of those who had evaded the enemy's wrath. Most of all, there was sorrow. Sorrow for those who had depended on him to protect their lives, and sorrow that they had suffered for his failures. He thought of Rem, the one who had cared for him, the one who had given her all to help in is impossible quest. He thought of how she had suffered, how her life had come to a sudden and brutal end at the ire of his brother, Knives.
Drained of power and emotion, the fallen soldier continued to drift, aimless.
He had failed them all. He deserved this end, he knew, deserved to drift the endless expanse between life and death, forever. He would follow in the wake of so many before him. Rem, Wolfwood, Legato, Knives, all the people he had either loved or hated, all flames of life that had been extinguished during his watch. Even for Vash, who was penned to be a steel-hearted bastard of an outlaw, it was too much to bear.
She stayed with him the entirety of the night, never drifting from the wakeful world to rest. No, there was to be no sleep for Meryl, lost to much in the writhing pain of the one whom she cradled so delicately. She had watched him while he slept, rather tossed and turned as unrelenting nightmares took control of him so viciously, leaving Meryl to feel weak and frail while she held the once strong soldier in her arms.
The world had turned its back on Vash, and in return Vash had finally recoiled and turned back in on himself. Perhaps that was what truly frightened her, that he had begun to lose hope. How could she believe in herself when Vash himself began to doubt? How the cruel twist of fate had played so much on her mind and his life was beyond her comprehension. She found herself in constant wonder at which was the better conclusion for Vash's life: to live knowing that he had failed, or to die knowing the same fate. She wished for neither end, but she couldn't depend on her own selfish needs to stand in the way of what was best, no matter what happened.
She kept telling herself that it was the way the fates had planned things for them, to find true happiness only to watch it fade away with the last breath that came from parting lips. It pained her to think of such an end, but she knew what a great possibility it was, and because of this she could no longer try to hide behind the glory of their unspoken moments. It was a bitter realization Meryl felt within the depths of the shadowy cave.
Vash twisted in her arms and she instinctively relaxed by whispering soft and strong words for him, that she was there and that everything would be all right. Still, she caught herself in a lie, knowing that it could never be true. Her arms tightened around him and she let out a sigh that revealed more than she could say in the span of two lifetimes.
If this was to be the end, she could think of no better way for it to be, beside the man she loved. Over 130 years of pain seemed not enough for this man to live through; fate had written him a deadly ending to his story. Rem had been denied her dream for him, just as Wolfwood had been silenced of his prayers. Knives had won despite his failures.
There were no true winners in this story, only the loss that was far more than anyone should have to bear.
She clung to him, holding on for every precious moment that was to be shared with him. Eyes on the sky that seemed withdrawn and away from the world at large, awaiting the rise of the sun in its glorious sky, granting a new day to them, one more day to suffer, one less day to experience the pain along the road to death. It hurt her more than she knew to think of the things she could never experience in a lover's existence. There would be no wonderful joy of love that would fill their home with children who would play outdoors to their hearts' content, unafraid of whatever would be lurking around the corner. She longed for such engagements, and saw them just beyond her reach.
You have always been there in some way. Please, I beg you, shine some light on this dark path. Show me a way out of this hell. Her prayers slipped into the darkness, and she wondered if they were lost on deaf ears. She wondered what God, if any, truly waited for her beyond this life. And, while the sun began to rise over the vast desert plains, the shadows settled over Meryl's soul and declared the end to happiness in their wake.
Stryker was busy loading weapons just outside the cave entrance, one eye constantly scanning the horizon for any sign of danger. Luckily, they had made it through the night and for the moment they were at peace. He slipped two shells into his double-barreled shotgun and slung the thing over his shoulder as he slid his arm through the strap, replaced the 8-shooter into the holster on his right hip, and the black magnum into his belt on the left. He eyed the horizon one last time before he slipped back into the cave. Leaning against the wall, he saw only one pair of eyes gazing up to him. Meryl, who hadn't slept a wink all night, looked utterly exhausted.
"We need to get going," he said gently, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lip. "He may have to walk on his own. He's too big for you, so Milly will have to take over." He approached and held out her cape with the fifty two-shot derringers. "I checked and cleaned them all. You're fully loaded. Good shape, too. You treat them well."
She reached out and took her cape, inspecting his handiwork, and smiled as she slid her hand over each of them in turn. They had never looked so good, not since the day she purchased them and after all the years she had used them. She'd managed to take good care of them over the years, but not since meeting up with Vash. Her attention spaced to the brief moments of running her fingers along the cool metal, something she did now. Genuine affection shown in her eyes. "You didn't have to do this," she whispered, though she was clearly touched by the gesture.
He grinned. "I only had an entire night to think."
She regretted having to wake Vash when he had finally stopped shaking in her arms, but she had known that with the first light they would have to go. The night had seemed to expand over lifetimes, though she was grateful for the reprieve from running. So far, she seemed untouched by the weariness that was sure to attack later that day. Regrettably, she lightly shook Vash in her arms, leaning him gently against the wall as she whispered sweet words to rouse him from his slumber.
When he stirred she gave the girl next to her a shove that would be considered ungentle to most, but to Milly it was no more than a tiny push.
The big girl stirred, peering up at Meryl with one eye. She stifled a yawn. "Is it morning already?" She shook her head and rubbed her face with her hands. "I could use a few more hours."
Meryl smiled and leaned back, but she seemed to struggle as she pushed herself wearily to her feet, barely able to keep her balance as she steadied herself against the wall of the cave. Once she regained her bearing she reached for her cape and slipped it around her shoulders, running a hand through her hair in a meager attempt to look decent.
Milly frowned. "Meryl, you look exhausted. Didn't you sleep well?"
She passed her friend a feigned smile. "I'm fine, Milly, thanks. I hope you slept well." She shook her head, knowing that nothing short of a cataclysmic event could stir Milly from her slumber. When she was out, she was out. "What about you, Vash? Think you can you manage?"
"I'm going to be okay, I think. Just a little sore." The legendary gunman tried to push himself to his feet, only to stumble and fall back against the wall. He grunted to himself and rested there. He was incredibly sore, though he wouldn't admit the truth so easily. He had so many things on his mind it wasn't funny. He looked up to Meryl with what appeared to be a plea for help. His entire body ached despite what he had said, and this time there would be no hiding the truth. Everyone already knew as he silently begged for assistance that he was far worse than he had let on.
She frowned and slipped to his side, kneeling down and offering a sympathetic gaze as she manuevered herself so that she could wrap her arm around his waist. He helped her as best he could, draping an arm over her shoulder. She looked at him silently for a moment as if preparing him for the trip to his feet, then pushed up with all the strength of her legs and back, forcing him to his feet. Despite her lack of height, Meryl certainly wasn't lacking in strength.
She breathed hard and then smiled for him as she gathered her wits. "They say the first step is always the hardest, right?" She laughed slightly, relieved when he chuckled along with her. Milly slipped over to his other side and let him drape his prosthetic over her shoulder. With Vash in this condition, it was understood that they wouldn't make much ground before they had to rest, and Stryker, being the best available shot, wouldn't be able to share the load. They also ran the risk of not finding shelter, which worried Meryl more so than having to stop on occasion.
Stryker approached and offered Vash his silver magnum. The elder plant removed his arm from Meryl's shoulder and accepted it, slipping it into the holster at his right hip. "I did a little scouting last night," the black-clad gunman announced. "Turns out we don't have to go very far at all." He gave them a daring smile and turned his back to them, setting out on the journey.
"What do you mean?" Vash asked.
Stryker only smiled and slipped out into the sunlight. The others followed him, and they turned to the northwest. Then, he glanced back to the girls and drew a deep breath. He led them through the narrow gorge until they once again approached higher ground. Soon they were walking away from the night's shelter, hopeful of avoiding a fight.
"I thought this place was uninhabited," Stryker announced after a time. The other looked to him, no doubt curious by his tone. "Last night I found out different."
"But who?" Meryl asked. He shrugged, and gestured out, far to the west, where a darkened portion of the land awaited them, well off in the distance. It was difficult to see, but it was there. Meryl shook her head. "I don't understand."
Stryker grinned. "You'll know soon enough."
They started westward.