Chapter 7

Angel of Death

The following day, as soon as Knives could walk comfortably again, he went back to work with the Doctor.

They worked all day together, and then the next day too, without telling Vash, Meryl or Millie a single thing. Knives' excuse was that he still didn't have all the answers. He wanted to be absolutely sure of what was happening to Vash before he started making proclamations as to his condition. Vash didn't like the sound of that once bit. It meant something was probably very wrong. Though he didn't share his concerns with the women, of course.

He felt himself going rapidly down hill. The disease, virus, or whatever was increasing its pace. Feathers covered his entire torso now. He felt so weak he could hardly walk more than a few paces. He encountered constant spells of light headedness and dizziness. His telepathic link with Knives had increased to the point that both brothers had to concentrate not to let their strong emotions leak through.

This had been another thing that had alerted Vash to the news that things might be bad. Knives was very worried about whatever it was mucking with his system.

He smiled and laughed it off though. Trying desperately to convince himself that one way or another it would be fine. He would get through this. His luck had never failed him yet. If ranks upon ranks of the finest hired guns couldn't kill him, then surely some dumb disease didn't stand a chance! Surely…

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Knives 'Bluesummers,' sighed and finished off his eighth cup of coffee. He resisted the urge to throw the cup across the room when he read the latest results of the third blood test. Once again there were no alien, biological life forms detected within the blood stream. It was fine, there weren't even any mutated cells, as would be the case with a disease like AIDS, or Cancer. His internal organs were clean of any damage or infection too. No, according to all reports Vash was in entirely healthy.

It was utterly frustrating!

'But it can't be evolution,' muttered Knives to himself. 'Otherwise it would effect me as well, surely…'

'I take it those results were negative too?' said the Doctor's voice behind him, causing Knives to actually jump. How was it that the old man could sneak up on him so quietly?

'Yes,' said Knives tersely. 'We're not getting anywhere!'

'Now now,' soothed the Doctor. 'Throwing temper tantrums won't help. Here, have something to eat, I find I always work better on a full stomach.'

He held out a plate full of doughnuts, 'take one.' He chuckled, 'don't worry, they aren't poisoned.'

Knives reached out and took one of the candied confectionaries. He was just about to take a bite out of it when a thought occurred to him. He dropped the doughnut back onto the plate and began to rummage in his pockets.

'I almost forgot,' he muttered. He brought out a small piece of tissue paper, 'I found these, too. They're probably nothing to do with anything but… Well, if someone wanted to poison Vash then they'd probably use doughnuts to do it. These were a new kind of coating.' He showed the Doctor the silver doughnut sprinkles he had picked up off the dirt a few days ago.

'It might be worth looking at,' mused the Doctor. 'It certainly can't do any harm.'

Knives nodded and strode over to the nearest microscope. Slotting one of the sprinkles beneath it he put his eye to the lens. He adjusted the focus a bit, trying to get a better view at…

He paused and brought his head up, away from the lens. He rubbed his eyes, now healed from Jessica's assault on him, and looked again.

'Damn,' he swore breathlessly.

'What is it?' asked the Doctor, taking a look down the viewer himself as soon as the tall plant stepped away.

The veneer of the sprinkle was not an inert coating of small metallic molecules, as would be expected. It was a jumble of tiny, metal… things. Like insects, all jarring together and shifting, their silvery bodies, so small and so closely packed together, giving the sprinkle its sheen.

'What are they?' asked Knives, though he thought he had a clue.

'Nanobots,' breathed the Doctor, awe evident in his voice.

'But,' said Knives, 'those are… were, top of the range technology. Even on the SEEDS ship, before we ever even came to Gunsmoke… Who would know how to make those now?'

The Doctor shook his head, 'not us,' he said. 'That skill was lost long, long ago. I'm not even sure we have the equipment, let alone the expertise.'

'So who does that leave?' mused Knives, scratching his jaw absently. 'This is the most technologically advanced group on GunSmoke. I might be able to pull something like this off, if I had access to the right materials and information but…'

He shook his head. 'This is beyond me,' he murmured. More than a little embarrassed to admit it.

'Well,' said the Doctor, 'we've answered as many questions as have been brought up. These little devils are obviously what have been ailing Vash.'

'But the tests-'

'Only looked for biological life forms, Knives, not artificial. They would have completely ignored these nano-bots. Mark my words. As soon as we adjust our equipment to scan for these, I'm sure we'll find Vash's body teaming with them. Rebuilding him from the inside out.'

Knives ran a hand through his short hair, his face troubled.

'I know what you're thinking,' said the Doctor, kindly. 'But don't despair, not yet. We must keep working towards an answer, Knives. I'm sure we'll find one, somehow.'

'Really?' Knives spat, not meaning to be so irritable. 'All very well and good for you to say, he's not your brother!' He let out another, long suffering sigh. 'I suppose I'd best inform him of our discoveries.'

'Are you sure you want to do that?' asked the Doctor. 'If it's easier, I could.'

'No,' replied Knives. 'It should be me.'

The Doctor frowned and shrugged, 'very well then,' he said. 'Go now and come back as soon as you've finished. There's an old saying, Knives Bluesummers, whilst there's life there is hope. And where there's a will there's a way. Have faith in that, you're brother does.'

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Meryl looked up from her latest insurance report as Knives entered their quarters. She frowned. He was back much earlier than usual. The previous day he'd worked in the Medical Centre until very late at night. The dark rings under his eyes and slight, blond stubble on his usually smooth chin were testament to how hard he'd been toiling recently.

'Hello Mr Knives!' greeted Millie from her place at the small dining table. She was currently engaging Vash in a game of chess and, as per usual, was winning (much to Vash's consternation.)

'Hi Knives!' greeted Vash, seemingly glad to have some distraction from the game. 'You're back early, any news?'

'Yeah,' replied Knives, wearily. 'We know what's causing your condition, and what's happening to you.'

Millie gave a squeal of joy, seemingly oblivious to Knives dark tone. 'That's great! I'll make us all some coffee and then you can tell us all about it!'

Vash, also seemingly unaware of Knives unhappiness, nodded and motioned for Knives to sit in the chair Millie vacated as she rushed to the kitchen.

Knives took it and looked dully down at the chess board, not meeting his brother's friendly gaze.

Meryl carefully finished her sentence on the type writer and pushed it away. There would be time to fill in reports later.

She moved to sit at the table herself, feeling the air of unease and tension build. Millie returned and passed round cups of steaming coffee before taking a new seat and looking at Knives expectantly.

Knives stared at the coffee for a while, watching his reflection in the dark liquid, his face blank of all emotion.

'Well Knives,' put in Vash eventually, eagerly. 'What's the prognosis.'

Knives swallowed, his eyes taking on a steely look, as if hardening himself then, in one breath, he spoke.

'I'm sorry Vash. Your condition is both terminal and… incurable.'

There was complete silence for a long time, everyone stunned by Knives statement.

Then, at length, it was broken.

By Vash's laughter.

The Gunman first snorted, then chuckled, then fell into peels of hilarity. His high pitched shrieks echoed around the room. He dropped his cup, the hot coffee spilling unheeded onto the floor. He seemed to loose all control over his limbs, they waved about until he, too, fell upon the floor where he writhed with mirth, tears running down his face.

'Tha-that's funny, Knives!' he warbled between giggles. 'That's… that's the best joke ever! You're really getting a sense of humour!'

'I'm not joking, Vash,' replied Knives. His voice no more than a soft murmur.

'Aw come off it!' said Vash, recovering himself somewhat. 'You must be kidding, right? Yeah? I mean, I can't be dying, I just… I can't!'

His blue-green eyes bored into Knives, wide and pleading. But Knives did not meet his imploring gaze.

At length Millie's soft voice broke the silence. 'What does terminal mean?' she asked softly. 'Does it mean Mr Vash is going to… going to die?'

She looked on the verge of tears herself and, to stop the situation becoming still more chaotic and confused, Meryl cut in. Though her own heart was aching too.

'Mr Knives,' she said solemnly, trying to keep the trembling out of her voice. 'I think you'd better explain things fully.'

'Yes,' sighed Knives, 'I suppose I should.'

He took a sip from his previously untouched coffee. Gathering his thoughts until, eventually, he spoke.

'I suppose I should start at the beginning. For many years I've… wondered what we… I mean myself and Vash, are, and why we're here. The Doctor let me access a few important medical files in the computer of this ship which has shed some light on the matter. Though it doesn't by any means answer the questions fully. Vash and myself seem to be products of a human-Plant cross breeding experiment. An attempt to mix human DNA with Plant DNA in an effort to create an entirely new life form. Why this was done; and how it was that we came to be with the SEEDS ship and not in some lab; I don't know. But that is what we are. The product of the DNA of an unknown plant and the project leader of this experiment, Mr Alexander Adams. The project itself was called Project Adam.'

'Do you think that's the same Alex that Rem talked about?' asked Vash, curious.

'Probably,' replied Knives. 'It would make sense. Though how she came to know him I no idea. The records are very sparse. We only know any of this through the briefest of references and remarks.'

'But what does this have to do with Vash's condition?' Meryl pressed. Eager to get onto the matter at hand.

'Well,' continued Knives, 'to make a long story short, those doughnuts with the silver coating you ate? Those silver sprinkles were coated with Nano-Bots. Tiny robots which entered your system and began to destroy your human DNA.'

'They WHAT?' Vash sounded more than shocked.

'Are destroying your human DNA,' Knives reiterated. 'They seem programmed to seek out and destroy the DNA donated by Mr Alexander Adams. Leaving nothing but the Plant DNA left.'

'What will this mean?' asked Meryl, sharply.

'I'm… not entirely sure.' He sighed. 'The fact that Vash is still alive now and not a pile of slime on the floor suggests that his Plant DNA is compensating for the loss somehow. Self replicating itself perhaps. If this is true, and his condition is not checked, then Vash will turn into a full blooded Plant.'

'Well,' giggled Vash, sounding a little hysterical, 'that isn't so bad, right? You're always saying how Plants are superior to Humans anyway. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to be a Plant but… I don't see how my condition is gonna kill me.'

'Maybe I exaggerated slightly. To be honest I don't know what will happen. You see, Plants need a Bulb to survive. Or to keep them in this dimension anyway. I don't know how Plants came into existence, but I do know that they probably hailed from some other dimension and were brought here by humans. Now, Plants seem to be unable to entirely exist in our dimension. They need a very special environment to stay alive here, and to keep them here. Only the Bulbs provide that. If Vash turns into a full blooded Plant then it is reasonable to assume that without a Bulb to support him…'

Knives' voice trailed off into silence as the full meaning of his words sank in.

'But…' stuttered Millie, 'there's got to be something we can do. Perhaps if we can put some new DNA in him!'

Knives shook his head. 'No,' he said. 'There's no telling what we'd end up with, even if we knew how to do it. We'd need Alexander Adams own DNA for this, and he's long dead. How the bastard who programmed the nano-bots got hold of his DNA sequence is an entire mystery to start with.'

'Well, could we use yours?' asked Meryl. 'You are twins, right?'

'Yes,' said Knives, slowly. 'But not identical. It would take a long time to separate and copy the pattern of Adam's DNA within my own. Probably more time than we have. And even if we did, I don't know how we'd transfer it back to Vash. Or how we stop the Nano-bots in the first place.'

'How long have I got left?'

This question came from Vash himself. He sounded oddly… calm. His voice was soft and dull. Meryl hated that voice. It was the tone he used when he was depressed, hurting, in pain but afraid to show it.

'I'm not sure.' replied Knives slowly. 'No more than a month, most probably much less.'

Vash got to his feet. 'I'm going to bed,' he said quietly, his voice still devoid of all emotion.

Knives also got up and, with lightning quickness, grabbed Vash's arm as he turned to leave.

'Vash,' Knives said, earnestly, 'don't give up hope. We're going to try to exterminate the Nano-Bots. That should halt the changes, if not reverse them.'

'And how much chance do you think you have of that?' asked Vash. 'How much do you and the Doctor know about Nanotechnology, Knives?'

'I…' Knives was unable to say anything, his answer was obvious. Nothing.

'Right,' continued Vash bracingly, his voice took on an entirely different tone, a happy, careless lilt. 'Well then, there isn't much I can do, is there? So, I'm just gonna have a quick nap. You know, to conserve my strength! I'll see you later!'

He grinned crazily and pulled away from his brother, moving straight into his room. The door closed behind him with a soft 'swoosh.'

No one said anything for a while. What could anyone say in the aftermath of such news?

'I… I think I should go and… and do something,' muttered Millie at last. Moving away from the communal area and into the kitchen with great haste. That was her way, Meryl knew, to try to forget her pain through work. She'd done it after Wolfwood's death. No doubt she'd also do it after…

No; no she couldn't think like that. Vash was still alive. There was still hope! She couldn't just write him off as dead just like that, she couldn't!

'I'm going back to the Medical Centre,' said Knives gruffly. 'I want to get to work straight away. If…if anything happens with Vash, let me know.'

There was an uncharacteristic note in his voice. If she'd heard it from anywhere else Meryl would have called it pleading. As it was she just nodded numbly and allowed him to leave.

Now it was just her and a blank door. The door leading to Vash's room.

She wondered what must be going through his head right now. Vash, perhaps above all people she'd ever met, loved life. Not just other peoples but his own also. He lived life to the utmost, basked in it, glowed with it. Only once had she seen him suicidal. Once, high upon a cliff top, shortly after Legato's death. She remembered him, even now, screaming how he wanted to go to Rem, be where she was. Yet the events that had driven him to that were monumental. Most people would have taken their lives at half the torment. But then, Vash was not like most people.

He was more vital, more alive than anyone she'd ever met. Oh, he'd faced death, on a very regular basis, but this… this was different. There were not bullets to dodge, no bounty hunters to run away from. No amount of strength, quick thinking, dexterity, wits or luck could help him now. He was dying and he was utterly helpless to prevent it.

The thought was unbearable to her. What it must be like for him she could hardly comprehend.

She brought her hands out to touch the old metal of his bedroom doors. They must have been locked for they did not open upon her presence.

She remembered being in such a position once before. Just prior to his suicide attempt, standing by his bedroom door as he recalled that he had taken a life. His screams had torn her apart and she had done nothing. Nothing at all.

She glanced towards the small communications device by the door. She could turn it on and call to him. Ask him to let her in. Then she could give him the comfort he probably needed so much right now. Hold him through his sobs, reassure him.

If she could just deal with his grief…

Meryl choked back a sob of her own as, slowly, her small hands still resting against the door, she sank to her knees.

It was no good. She wasn't strong enough. Bot then and not now. She wasn't used to dealing with emotion. Couldn't handle such deep pain. It made her feel awkward and embarrassed. To see such a man suffering, to be faced with his agony… she couldn't cope with that.

When it came to matters of emotion and the heart, she knew she was the weakest person alive.

She sat there, by his door, for the rest of the night. Hating herself for being unable to face his torment. Listening for him to start screaming or sobbing. Straining to catch the sounds of his suffering. She tried to convince herself that, if she should hear such noises, she would go in, confront him. She didn't know if she could, however.

As it happened, she heard nothing. Nothing at all and took it as a sign that, perhaps, he was handling it better than they'd thought.

It was a few days later she learned their rooms were soundproofed.

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They didn't talk to each other much in the following days. Vash spent much of his time in his room. He smiled, thanked the girls for food, even made some very light conversation, but it was obvious he was unhappy. His eyes were dark with unease and misery, his smiles strained, his jokes poor.

Knives spent little time in their quarters. Almost every waking hour was spent in the Medical Centre with the Doctor. His appearance became even scruffier; he looked half asleep most of the time. Millie was kind enough to bring him food and coffee when he needed it. Once, when he came home only to fall asleep at the kitchen table, a medical report still clutched in his hand, Meryl saw Millie drape a blanket across his shoulders.

Millie also gave herself no rest, as was her custom she drove away bad thoughts through work. She spent her time cleaning, cooking and doing every other imaginable chore in their small quarters. She even found time to mingle with the other inhabitancy of Sky City and, much to everyone's surprise, she made some friends. The children especially came to love her and she actually found some acceptance in the city.

As for Meryl… She also tried to drive away the thoughts of Vash's impending death through work. But there were only so many reports she could type before her mind ran blank and turned, inevitably, towards a certain ex-gunslinger.

She made sure that, for everyone's sake, she kept her sobs as quiet and discrete as possible.

Two days after Knives had pronounced Vash's condition, Vash asked Meryl to come into his room, and to bring her portable typewriter with her.

She did so nervously, wondering why he wanted her typewriter and desperately trying to look calm and composed. She didn't want to upset him any more than he already was.

'Hello Vash,' she said as she entered his room.

'Hi,' he greeted merrily, waving at her from between his bed sheets. Despite herself she found her eyes drawn to the thick coating of feathers that now covered his chest and had started creeping, inevitably, up his neck. Even his arms were sprouting feathers now. He was looking a bit like some strange, humanoid bird.

'Um…' she began. 'What is it? Do you want me to make you some soup or something?'

'No, no thinks,' said Vash. Obviously just as nervous as she, but hiding it better. He had that strange, disturbing smile of his. A small, friendly grin which didn't quite reach his eyes. 'Actually… I was wondering if you could help me with something else…'

'Yes?'

'Well… could you write something for me? On your type writer… I'd do it myself but I'm not that good with typing.'

'Of course,' she said. Taking a seat by his bedside table she placed her small fingers on the keys of the typewriter, readying herself. 'What do you want me to write?'

'My Will.'

Meryl tried to hold in a gasp. She felt the blood rush from her face, her fingers started to tremble slightly.

'See,' continued Vash, 'I've been thinking these past few days. When I'm gone… Well, I don't really have much. But what I do have I want, you know, to make sure it goes to the right places. Can you do this for me, Meryl? Now I have time… I think I should have a Will. It won't take long, like I said I don't have much to pass on.'

'Al… alright,' stuttered Meryl, wishing she could keep her voice steady, wishing she weren't so weak. 'Where do you want to begin?'

Vash blushed. 'I'm not really sure how you do this,' he said. 'I've never thought about writing a Will, but… um… Ok, here we go…' He cleared his throat dramatically and when he spoke again it was with that deep, show-off voice he sometimes used to impress ladies. Despite herself Meryl smiled, though it hurt her inside to see him acting like this. To be reminded of what she'd lose.

'I, Vash the Stampede,' the gunslinger began, 'hereby declare the following items, to be distributed after my death. My body… or whatever remains of me, shall be given to the Feds. So that my outstanding reward of Sixty Billion Double Dollars may be collected. This reward shall be paid out to Meryl Strife and Millie Thompson. Upon the condition that half of it is also donated to Wolfwood's Orphanage in December. My artificial arm is to be returned to the people of Sky City with my thanks. Any other possessions shall be given to my brother, Knives. Finally…' His voice hitched a moment. 'Finally, my earring shall be left to Miss Meryl Strife.'

Meryl smiled through the tears that were welling up in her eyes as she finished typing out the last sentence. She looked up and saw that Vash had removed the small, silver hoop from his ear and was holding it in his hands.

'Thank you,' she choked out. 'But I hardly think it's my style.' She self consciously tugged one of her drooping, gold earrings.

'In never said I wanted you to wear it in your ear,' replied Vash solemnly.

Meryl's grey eyes widened in surprise but. Before she could do or say a thing, Vash reached out and took one of her small hands. Then, with great tenderness, he took his earring and slipped the silver hoop into her index finger. It fit perfectly.

There were silent for a long while, neither sure of what to say.

'Vash…' Meryl began but was quickly silenced as he put one finger over her lips.

'Listen,' he said urgently. 'I know… I know this is sudden but I've been thinking… if I died now, if this kills me, what will I leave behind? I can count on my hand, my one real hand how many people know me. Really know me. If I die, what will I leave? A large bounty, a few rumours, some chaos and destruction? Is that all? Is that going to be my legacy to this world? No, I don't want that. I don't want to leave the world that way. I want my life to mean something else, to mean more. Do you understand, now? If I get though this, if I live, I want to live for something. I want my life to mean something. I want to make myself a future, a real future… with you.'

'Mr Vash…' said Meryl, her voice very soft and quiet. 'Are you… are you proposing to me?'

'Yes,' replied Vash. 'Yes… I guess I am. You don't have to say yes right away! I'd never make you do that. Not now! You can throw the ring away as soon… as soon as this is over, if you want. But please, just for now, will you wear it? For me? I want to think that, if I live, I'll have someone to live for. Someone waiting for me…'

'Vash I…' Meryl paused. She found herself staring into those large, aqua marine eyes. 'Of course I'll wear it.'

Vash smiled. A large, real, beautiful smile which seemed to light up the entire room. And, before she could do anything to stop him, he leaned forward and put his lips upon hers.

A moment later they were kissing.

It wasn't spectacular. There were no fireworks or angels, no feelings of ecstasy or epiphany. But that was not to say that Vash was a poor kisser. He had enough experience to be quite adept. He smelt a little like gun powder, leather and soap. He tasted like whisky, freshly backed doughnuts and icing sugar. His arms were alternately warm and cold around her. His lips soft and receptive. She felt his breath tickle her face as he deepened the kiss, preventing all thought and speech.

They remained that way for quite a while.

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Mille hummed to herself as she strolled back to their quarters. She'd spent the day playing with some of Sky City's children. Telling them stories about the rest of Gun Smoke and its people. Being children, they were especially interested in the slightly gory and exciting stories. Their favourite topic, of course, was Knives.

Both Vash and Knives were practically legends here. Every child had heard about some of Vash's escapades and his struggle against Knives were the stuff of myth.

'Is it true,' asked one, pigtailed girl, 'that Knives goes into naughty children's houses and eats their brains!'

'I don't know,' Millie replied thoughtfully. 'I don't think so. Mr Knives doesn't like red meat all that much. I don't think he'd do that…'

'Of course it's not true,' scoffed a boy. 'That's just what parents say to keep us in line! I don't think any of it is true. I don't think he exists at all!'

'What do you mean?' asked Millie, quite surprised at the child's words.

'Well, it's like Santa Clause, isn't it,' continued the boy smugly. 'He's just something mom and dad use to scare us with. To make us brush our teeth and stuff.'

'But Mr Vash exists!' put in another child, solemnly.

'Oh yeah,' agreed the boy. 'He's real, but Millions Knives is just made up.'

'No he isn't,' said Millie. 'He's real! And I think he'd be quite upset if you said he wasn't.'

'Aw, you're just saying that so I behave,' the boy said dismissively.

'But he is real!' protested Millie. 'He does exist! I live with him!'

'Yeah, well it might be someone just pretending to be him. Like my uncle Marty pretended to be Santa Clause last Christmas.'

'Oh no,' said Millie, assuredly. 'I'm sure it's the real Knives. No one else could be that grumpy or mean all the time.'

'Yeah, whatever,' the boy said, shrugging. 'Tell us some more stories now, tell us about some bandits or something!'

Millie had obliged, reciting the tale of how Vash had managed to stop a group of bandits from stealing a gold train. Still, even when she left the children to go home, her mind buzzed with doubt.

'Knives does exist,' she muttered to herself. 'He has to… doesn't he? Oh, it's so confusing!'

She wondered if she should talk to Meryl and Vash about this. Or even Knives himself. He'd know if he existed, wouldn't he? But then again, she knew that, if she asked Meryl, she'd just tell her to stop being so silly. Knives was probably much to busy and Vash was too troubled with his own predicament to be bothered with such questions.

The thought of Vash made her spirit plummet. Poor Mr Vash! He didn't deserve this! He didn't deserve half of the terrible things that had happened to him, really. It wasn't fair. It would be just dreadful if he died. Almost as bad as when Wolfwood… and Meryl, poor Meryl! Millie knew how much her short companion cared for the goofy gunslinger, even if she couldn't admit it out loud. How would this effect her? The very thought of it brought tears to Millie's eyes.

She was sure to wipe away this moisture before she entered their shared quarters, however. She didn't want to be upset in front of everyone.

She tapped in the key code which opened the door and stepped inside.

Meryl was there, standing in front of the dining table, glaring at her type writer. She had her back turned to Millie so the taller woman couldn't make out the expression on her face.

For a moment she feared that she might have been crying. She hated to see Meryl cry and, if there was one thing she disliked about Vash (who, really, wasn't a very dislikeable person otherwise,) it was the way he made Meryl cry. It always felt so wrong to see Meryl shed tears. She was usually so strong and passionate, almost unemotional, always in control.

'Ma'am?' asked Millie tentatively. Hoping she'd not interrupted a private moment.

Meryl turned round and, far from the tear streaked face she'd been expecting, Millie saw a fixed, stern expression.

Every muscle in her face, every bone in her body was straight and hard. Meryl Strife may have seemed a short woman to those around her, but she was a towering pillar of will and conviction. Once she had her mind set on something she would not let go. She was stronger and more determined in this way than almost anyone Millie had ever met.

Recently this willpower had been smaller than usual. Her spirit somewhat crushed, but looking at her now it was easy to see she'd set her mind to something. She'd made a decision and, no matter what, she'd carry that decision out.

'Millie,' she said.

'Yes Ma'am?'

'I'm sick of waiting for Mr Knives to discover some miracle cure for Vash. I'm tired of waiting here with nothing to do, no way to help. It's time to take matters into our own hands. Time to take action.'

'Yes Ma'am! Um… what are we going to do?'

'We,' said Meryl, a small smile curling the otherwise straight line of her mouth, 'are going to save Vash.'

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NEXT TIME: Vash talks to Jessica, Knives ponders his brother's condition and Meryl and Millie make an extraordinary discovery!