CHAPTER TWO: ADJUSTMENTS MUST BE MADE

PART THREE…Professor Vash of Deck 58…

Vash's greatest challenge during those extensive exams was creating sufficient error. He had to force himself to miss random questions, fearing he may be placed too high.

The results relieved him – only three degrees and one masters. It was the foreign language portion he'd slipped on, since the oral test was simply too natural to fluke enough. Every other section he'd erred at a minimum of 30%, helping him to appear as uneducated as the other refugees. When asked how he'd managed to become fluent in four languages and proficient in six more, considering that only three of them existed orally on Gunsmoke, he simply shrugged - hoping they'd consider him an idiot savant or something - and accepted his job placement.

Teachers were in high demand since education levels were generally lower than hoped, so Vash was enlisted as a French professor. Sporting carefully mussed hair and thick, non-prescription glasses, he disguised himself for work daily, lecturing and assisting with a patience and charisma everyone loved.

OOO

With his first paycredit, Vash bought an old-fashioned set of oil paints and canvases from the luxury shop.

Vanessa stared blankly at him, smiling. "Thank you," she murmured warmly, accepting the gifts.

The optometrist had concluded that she may never regain normal sight, but she was not blind. She could see colors and blurry shapes, and if she leaned close to an object, she could see its texture perfectly. But squinting or attempting to focus at all could cause a relapse, so she resigned herself to this relaxed stare. "I've only read about painting in books," she commented, feeling the smooth, metal paint tubes in awe.

Vash laughed and fixed a canvas onto the wall. "I can't afford brushes yet, but everything's nontoxic. You can use your hands if you want," he figured, looking around for a food tray to use as a palate. He found several – evidence that Meryl and Millie had brought their extra rations by earlier that day.

Ignoring the incessant nagging of her stomach, Vanessa rose unsteadily and rubbed the smooth, white canvas with her hand. "Can I paint you? Would you sit over there, while you watch the projection? I remember your face, so the blurriness isn't a problem," she said with a growing excitement. She knew that art forced hunger from her mind; long hours of intense drawing used to cause her to lose track of time.

Vash was bringing all the food he could smuggle, but it was never enough. She'd stopped telling him how hungry she was, not wanting him to worry. Nevertheless, he must have noticed that despite the amount of food she consumed, her body remained very thin. Recently, since Vash's rations had been at maximum for days, the hunger grew too fast and she couldn't move about without feeling weak. Vash was barely eating enough to maintain his own health, since he left her most of his own rations.

They were afraid to explain the dilemma to a doctor. Only a doctor could provide further nourishment or supplements for them, but a visit to the medical deck could mean discovery.

Vanessa's pregnancy was quickly proving itself abnormal. She was far from human, and the hunger that ravaged her outpaced a full-term human woman's fourfold. Vash had made a pact with her the other night – they agreed not to seek medical attention until she dropped below the minimum health levels she'd written out for him. Unless it was a matter of life or death, she would not visit the doctor, claiming obscure religious convictions for the secrecy.

Vash set his glasses on a little shelf and slumped into the corner seat. Here he sat, not really paying attention to the flashing images on the projection wall, trying to be as good a model as he could.

OOO

The sudden sound of running water woke him from a slumber he didn't remember falling into. According to the digital statistics below the projection, many hours had passed. His bladder ached, and a thickness coated his tongue and eyes. It was the faucet in the bathroom that was running, and it took Vash a moment to decide which he needed most – a drink or a toilet trip.

Vanessa was standing at the sink, washing her oily hands. There were little splatters of paint upon the tan fabric of her dress and the skin at her arms and neck. "What do you think?" she asked him as he impatiently began to use the toilet beside her.

"Oh, I didn't see it yet," he replied, moving to wash his hands as she grabbed a towel and left.

When Vash reentered the main room, she was leaning against the far wall, staring blankly at the canvas. He turned, and took in the brilliant colors creating his face and torso. Blinking through the vivid display, he was shocked at the image, which looked somehow far more realistic than a mirror's reflection. After a moment of breathlessness, he gasped sharply. "Vanessa, that's amazing…How did you…Wow. That's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen…"

"Well, you ARE an attractive man, Vash," she replied quickly.

"No, that's not what I meant! This is fantastic…"

She moved to his side and hugged him. "Thanks, Vash," she whispered, kissing his cheek.

Eyes finally leaving the canvas, Vash turned to kiss her deeply, awe becoming passion. For the last hour before bed, they occupied themselves from their hunger, choosing to enjoy one another's warmth and affection instead of food.