Chapter1:

Fools Paradise

Picture, if you will, a small town not all that far from the city of December.

Move your eye inwards, see a little house on the outskirts of the town, simple but not hovel-like, there is nothing to set it apart from its neighbours.

Now come a little closer and look through one of the windows, into the house. There you will see a man, a man with a slightly odd appearance. He is tall, slender, but well muscled, his cream coloured shirt and blue jeans showing an excellent physique. He moves round the room with a careless grace, searching for some food product perhaps. Hair the colour of straw sticks straight out and up from his head, making him look like some sort of demented broom. His eyes sparkle blue-green and seem to have an astonishing expressional quality, every emotion, real or false, shines out from them like a beacon.

If you are observing this through the window of an unremarkable house in a small town not all that far from December, then you are not alone.

The woman, her lithe body flattened against the wall, smiled wickedly as she moved her head away from the window. Each square inch of her was covered in a mixture of black leather and blades. Two colt rifles were strapped to her hips; a machine gun was slung across her shoulders. Ebony hair hung to her waist, framing two equally dark eyes, her soft red lips curled up into a smirk.

'At last, Vash the Stampede,' she hissed, 'I've found you! You may be the first Humanoid Act of God, but soon you shall be but blood in the sand! For you have not met me, Ilyana the Destroyer! Queen of Bounty Hunters! Soon your body and your rich bounty shall be mine! And there nothing that-'

She didn't get much further because at that very moment the outward opening storm flap, of the very window she'd been looking through previously, opened and slammed right in her face.

She fell down onto the sand hard, clutching at her bloody nose. She looked up in astonishment and met an oddly friendly pair of turquoise eyes.

'You know,' said Vash the Stampede, 'you'd really do better if you didn't stay about to threaten so much, I didn't hear you until you started that little speech.'

Ilyana the Destroyer looked up in mute shock, 'why are you doing this anyway?' continued Vash, as if this was an every day conversation, 'I mean it's not as if there aren't easier bounties out there. You know I'm the first Human Act of God, a walking disaster, why the hell are you after me? What use is any money if you're too dead to spend it? If I were you I'd retire, I'm sure you'd make someone a fine wife! Um… not me though… I don't go for…' he gestured vaguely at the straps of black leather and weapons, 'that, but hey, whatever makes you happy!'

Ilyana growled and sprung to her feet, drawing her guns, she would not be outdone!

She wasn't precisely sure of what happened next, all she knew was that Vash went into a flurry of motion and, a second later, she found her hands empty of all guns and a further weapon, one which seemed to have simply appeared in Vash's hand, was pressed to her head.

The Humanoid Typhoon sighed, 'you just don't learn, do you? What is it with you guys and suicidal tendencies! There's so much to look forward to in life, so many better things to do than go round toting guns! I should know... I've been doing it a long time.'

Ilyana whimpered.

'Ah, I see you understand, great!' Vash laughed, 'now, you go off and find some other head to hunt, yeah? Some other bounty… or better yet become a body guard, or maybe a merchant! You'd make a great merchant, really kick ass, right?'

The woman nodded jerkily, there was a wet patch developing between her legs.

'Alright then,' said Vash, 'you can go, have a nice life now!'

The woman back peddled quickly, nearly tripping over her own feet then, when she felt she was at a safe distance, she spun round and fast tracked it away, soon becoming nothing more than a dust speck upon the horizon.

Vash, watching her go, smiled to himself. That was the only second bounty hunter in this month, things were looking up. As much as he liked living with them, he wished Meryl and Millie hadn't let slip his identity. At least the town's people hadn't driven him out. They seemed to be content to let him stay, so long as he didn't cause too much fuss.

The bounty hunters were another matter though, at first it had been five or six per week! But their numbers had petered out as Vash had shown them the error of their ways and now, at last, things were relatively quiet.

This was both a good and a bad thing. On the one hand this was… well, it was the life he had always dreamed of. A quiet place to think and relax, nothing but lazy days, plenty of food, good company, and general acceptance (or something approaching it, anyway.) It was paradise, Eden, except… except…

Vash sighed; his chaotic life must have had more of an effect on him than he'd known. Now things were quiet he almost missed the action. Recently the bounty hunter attacks had become less of a minor annoyance and more of a reprieve from days filled with nothingness.

He had to face it, he was board.

He needed something to do… a job perhaps, which might help if he could find anyone wiling to give him work. Besides, Meryl had been complaining for months now that he should help pay his way, he had been eating rather a lot of their food after all.

Ah… Meryl, he smiled, there was something about that short tempered, bitchy insurance lady… Yes, he'd find work, if only to keep her happy.

But it would have to wait a while; he had Knives to think of. It had been just about eleven months since they'd parted company; his year long trial was nearly up. Soon they'd both have to return to Angel's Rest, the town where Vash had cared for Knives for a year. Then they'd talk, figure out what path Knives wanted to chose, if he'd chosen any yet.

The thought made the gunslinger's heart leap a little in his chest; he hoped he'd decided to go the path of love and peace, or at least a path of tolerance. Then, perhaps, things would be perfect. It would be just him, Knives and the insurance women living here in peace and quiet…

That would be true Eden, right? To live forever here with them…

But no, no it wouldn't be forever, he knew better than that. He'd learned how futile that path was, learned it in his home at Sky City. It had been hard, he remembered, to stand back and watch as all those you love grow old and die around him, to look at people you'd known as children mature and have babies of their own whilst he stayed the same. That was part of the reasoning her took up wandering, the nomadic life style was so much safer and less painful in that way. Knives would never age; he knew that, he'd always have him but the girls…

He shivered at the thought; he really mustn't brood upon it. It was a simple fact, he could remain for now but sooner or later he'd have to leave, it would soon become far too painful to stay.

He shook his head, well, there was no use in brooding, it wouldn't do any good. He needed to take his mind off it, perhaps some food?

He'd been very hungry recently, for reasons he didn't entirely understand himself. Hungry and tired… he'd not been able to do half his usual exercise routine in the morning before collapsing with exhaustion. It was a bit concerning, but hopefully it was nothing. He might see a doctor if it went on like this, but he really didn't want to worry the girls.

Now… food… what should he eat? Doughnuts sounded good; recently their local doughnut stall had started selling these cool little doughnuts with bright silver sprinkles on them! Real silver! But they were rather expensive and he'd probably run out by now, there was only a limited stock after all.

Vash licked his lips at the memory as he rummaged through the cupboards, those doughnuts had been really nice, and he'd eaten quite a few before his 'doughnut budget' had run out. He contemplated taking a trip down to the stall right then, but he really wasn't in the mood, not if silver sprinkles weren't involved. No… now he craved something else…

He rooted around a bit further. Ah, pickles, they were nice… so was cheese, and bread. Yes, a cheese and pickle sandwich with… with… some salmon, yes, a few slices of salmon from the fridge and something else… something like…

He searched deeper, ooh, how about some chicken? Yes, that sounded good, and some mayonnaise, a bit of salad, some beans, maybe a sprinkling of sugar…

At last the mega sandwich was complete, the gunman held it to his mouth and took a large bite.

It tasted disgusting and, when he analysed the situation, it was disgusting. How could all those ingredients mix together? Yet… yet… he craved it. It was what he wanted, more than doughnuts even. How could he resist?

He ate the sandwich, licking up every last crumb. At last he leant back in his chair and sighed in a mixture of contentment and worry. What he needed now, he thought, was a drink… milk perhaps… or maybe whisky… maybe both together…

Meryl Strife wasn't in a very good mood.

She'd been working part time at the café down the road for six weeks now and every day she liked it less and less. It was hot, stuffy, underpaid and thankless, the customers were rude, the other staff ruder and the entire place stank of squalor and ignorance.

The only reason she was doing this at all was to earn a little extra money. Theoretically both she and Millie were still in the employ of Bernelli insurance company but the last pay check had been docked because they didn't get her report on time. Damn postal system! It was hardly her fault that the postal worker had been kidnapped and then impersonated by one of the bounty hunters after Vash.

So, in order to fill in the gap, both she and Millie did some part time work. The larger woman worked at a construction site, a job she rather liked, and Meryl worked at the local café, serving an ungrateful clientele.

Today, for hundreds of small reasons too petty to go into, had been particularly bad. Right now all she wanted was to go home, slump on the nearest chair and have a steaming hot cup of coffee.

Of course, she'd have to contend with Vash first.

Vash… now there was an enigma, a puzzle, a… complication.

She loved him… that much she knew, but whether he felt the same… she knew he liked her, knew he held her very close as a friend how deep the feeling went she was unsure.

When he'd first returned with Knives she had confessed her feelings, not quite saying that she loved him, (she just couldn't get the words out, for some reason, they stuck in her throat whenever she saw him,) but something similar. He had known what she meant, she was sure of it, but he hadn't accepted her.

'Meryl,' he'd said, using her name, something he only did when it was important, 'I… I understand how you feel, but this isn't the time. I need to take care of Knives, I need to save him. When that's done then we'll see… Will you wait for me?'

And she had, she'd waited for him because she'd been waiting a long time anyway. When he was finished with Knives, when he sent his psychopathic brother on a mission of self realization (Meryl was far from happy about that, but what could she do other than scold him about it?) she thought that, at last, it was time.

He'd been staying with them for almost a year now, each day she dropped hints, each day she waited for him to say those words, those three, little words.

He never did.

And she was loosing hope, it wouldn't be long before he'd have to leave to meet up with Knives again, before she lost her chance. Besides, it had been over five years since she'd first encountered Vash the Stampede, she wasn't getting any younger… but then, he wasn't getting any older. She knew that was part of the problem, a large part, but she'd tried to make it clear to him she didn't care, she'd be willing to make the sacrifice, willing to under go the pain if only…

No, there was no room for such thoughts, such silly fantasies. She was a grown woman, not some daydreaming waif. She had a job to do, to monitor, secure and accompany Vash the Stampede. This serving job was just a side issue, as soon as the next pay check came through she'd quit. And as for her relationship with Vash… well, the broom head would work it out sooner or later.

And if he didn't then there were plenty more sand grains in the desert, weren't there?

'Ma'am!'

Meryl turned to the source of the chirpy voice, towards the large form of Millie Thompson, bounding down the road to meet her as if they'd been separated for months, not hours.

She'd no doubt just finished her days work at the construction site. Theoretically she'd finished work half an hour before Meryl, but she always stayed behind to say good bye to all her colleagues.

'Hello Millie,' greeted Meryl, smiling despite herself. There was something about Millie, an infectious cheerfulness, which effected everyone around her. She was a literal ray of sunshine. 'No Martin?'

'Nope, he offered to walk me back but I wanted to get home early, he always wants to stop and chat!'

Martin was a man who Millie worked with, recently he'd taken to walking her home, his interest in her was obvious.

Meryl felt her heart constrict briefly, a surge of instinctive protectiveness surging through her form. No doubt Martin meant well, no doubt his intentions were good but… was Millie ready?

Though she didn't often outwardly show it, Millie had lost the man she'd loved. Meryl sometimes worried that, despite her seemingly well adjusted attitude life, she was still getting over Nicholas's death. That she still hadn't quite come to terms with it.

Perhaps she never would.

'How was your day Ma'am?' asked the bubbly brunette.

'Dreadful,' responded Meryl, 'but it's over now. Let's get back home and sort out whatever chaos Vash has gotten himself into. Useless goof.'

Millie giggled and the two women made their way down the street, back to the home they shared with the infamous Humanoid Typhoon.

The first thing they noticed was the small smears of blood near the window.

'Ah,' said Meryl dully, 'another bounty hunter. No bullet holes though, that's good. Looks like a neat one.'

Millie nodded, this was a relief to both women who, in the months since Vash had arrived to live with them, had grown sick of cleaning blood stains, cementing up bullet holes and buying new furniture. Living with Vash really was like living with a disaster area occasionally.

Speaking of disaster areas…

Meryl gawped in shock at the sight which greeted her as she entered the kitchen. It looked like it had been hit by a small grenade. Empty food packages were strewn across the room, cupboards were open and half bare. And amidst this all, next to a food stained table, was the Vash the Stampede, stuffing his face.

'Mmm….?' Vash made a noise of slight alarm as the two entered, he quickly swallowed his mouthful, 'Hi insurance girls!' he greeted, waving, 'how were your days?'

'Fine thank you Mr Vash,' responded Millie.

'What… what…' Meryl tried to spit out the words, but something in her throat, a lump of rage, was preventing her from forming complete sentences at that moment.

'Oh this?' asked Vash, lifting up what he was currently eating, 'this is carrot sticks dipped in chocolate.'

'That doesn't sound very nice,' commented Millie.

'It isn't,' replied Vash, 'but I just… need it, you know? It's like a craving.'

'That's a strange craving.'

'Yeah, maybe I'm getting sick or something.'

'Sick? Sick?' Meryl stuttered, 'sick! You faker! You ate all our food! This mess you… you… you layabout, gluttonous, lying… AUGH!'

She launched herself at Vash, who leapt up from his chair, avoiding her furious charge, 'hold it, hold it!' he yelled, 'I'll pay for the food, I'll pay!'

'Oh, you'll pay!' yelled the short insurance woman, 'you'll pay through the nose!'

She waved a fist threateningly, Vash backed away, his feet slipping occasionally on the litter filled floor, his gangly limbs waving about comically.

'Millie!' he turned to the taller woman, pleading, 'please, help!'

But Millie only stood there, her mouth an O of surprise and indecision. No aid to be had from that quarter.

Meryl advanced, her own mouth a straight line of determination, her eyes glittering with vicious intent.

'Please don't hurt me!' squeaked Vash, 'I'm sick!'

'And you'll be even sicker when I'm through with you!'

'But I-' suddenly Vash stopped mid sentence, he paused and his entire posture changed.

It was always a strange sight, seeing him change so completely. It was if he became a different person, his eyes narrowed, the terror left his face, eyebrows knitted together ever so slightly. His limbs stopped waving and flailing and, instead, became hard and steady, even his very voice changed. Deepening, becoming more thoughtful, more sincere.

'Millie,' he said, and though his voice was deeper it was also somewhat quieter than might have been expected, 'catch me.'

'Huh?' said both women simultaneously before, with all the grace of a falling brick, Vash the Stampede keeled straight over, landing in the piles of cast off food packaging.

'Oh dear!' squeaked Millie, 'I didn't catch him in time! You don't think he'll be upset with me when he wakes up?'

'No time to worry about that, Millie,' snapped Meryl, rushing to grab hold of the slender gunman's feet 'help me lift him, we've got to get him to his room!'

'Yes Ma'am' responded her companion, easily lifting Vash's upper body up, 'you don't suppose he really is sick, do you?'

'I… I don't know Millie,' said Meryl, 'I don't think so, the idiot's probably faking it just to get out of trouble.'

Millie nodded, believing Meryl's word, Meryl just wished she could believe it herself. It was altogether possible for Vash to feign illness, but not like this. He wouldn't make himself faint just to avoid a clip around the ear. Not that he liked being hit by her, (or, at least, not to her knowledge,) but he wouldn't usually go to such lengths to avoid it. He could easily dodge any of her blows anyway, if he'd wanted to. No, this was real and given all his other odd behaviour recently, it certainly leant credence to the idea that he was becoming ill.

She just hoped it wasn't serious.

He was dreaming.

He knew he was dreaming because he was in the Blue Space, the space he usually encountered Rem in. Here there was nothing but peace, tranquillity and, it appeared, rather a lot of butterflies.

Sitting besides him his brother Knives watched the insects intently.

'Why are we here?' asked Knives.

'I don't know,' said Vash, the words coming to him easily, making perfect sense in the way all words spoken in dreams so, 'perhaps we'll never find out, but… I'm scared, I think I'm being pushed back into the cocoon.'

'Better than dying,'

'Only marginally, I don't want to loose my wings, Knives.'

'You shouldn't be worried by your wings, Vash,' remarked Knives, looking straight at him, 'it's your arms that are in danger right now.'

Vash's eyes widened and he glanced down at his torso. He let out a chocked scream at what he saw. His arms, both his arms, were now nothing more than bleeding stumps and, covering those stumps, slurping up the blood that leaked from them, were hundreds of butterflies.

Swarms of the pretty yellow insects flew towards Vash, alighting on his arms and shoulders, draining away his blood like some bazaar form of vampire.

'Knives!' yelled Vash desperately, 'help me! I need you!'

But Knives was gone and the butterflies continued to attack. Soon they had covered every inch of his body, tickling his limbs, searching for blood, burrowing under his skin, surging into his open, screaming mouth.

With one, last, almighty wail of torment the dream shattered and broke around him.

To Be Continued…

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