CHAPTER FIVE: Miracle of LifePART ONE…Father-to-be Jitters…

Cheeks red and glistening from labor, Vanessa peered up at Vash expectedly. She lay breathless against the pillows, awaiting his answer. When none came, she repeated herself. "Is it a girl or a boy? Well? Vash? What…What's wrong?"

Vash didn't reply, but rather returned to staring down at the warm, blanketed mass in his arms. No words could explain to her the sheer horror he felt, a heavy guilt and fear that blurred his vision and took strength from his legs. He folded the blanket over the child's head, wishing the soundless thing were dead. Unfortunately, the poor thing was very much alive.

Vanessa's plaintive cries shook him from his stupor. "Why won't it cry? Give me my baby!" she begged, beginning to cry.

Pale and covered in a cold sweat, Vash turned to show her his serious expression. "You need your rest," he choked out. "I don't want you to get upset right now."

"Is it dead," she murmured calmly. "Tell me now."

Vash shook his head slowly.

Running a hand roughly through her mussed hair, Vanessa's glazed eyes shone with anger. "Give me my baby," she growled. Shaking, she pulled herself forward and attempted to grab the child from him. But she was too weak, and collapsed back onto the bed. Chest heaving, her voice became sharper and louder. "My baby!"

After a desperate moment of thought, Vash reluctantly rested the bundle beside her and seated himself on the bed nearby. "Please Vanessa, don't…You're…"

Ignoring his feeble words, she tugged the cloth from her newborn and at first seemed fine. Then, the shock melted into sobbing. Each sob was louder and caused a more severe trembling in her body than the last. Silently, she conveyed her thoughts to his mind, casting the accusation and bitterness like stones.

Keeping himself from reaction, he took in the transmitted blurbs. Frantically, she was telling him that he was never to touch her again, for fear that he might give her another child with such horrible deformities. She clearly blamed herself as much as him for this result, but the ultimatums directed at him were most pressing. They described how she never wanted to sleep with him again, nor live with him or see him. She further began to mention that this was punishment for past sins and destruction. When her thoughts turned against the heavens and God Himself, Vash broke down completely, sobbing alongside her even as she wished him to leave.

Gasping suddenly, Vash's eyes flew open and he found himself in the dark, still room. His cheeks were tight from dried tears, and his body was sticky from sweat. He sunk back into his pillow, turning to the wall as he calmed from the nightmare.

This time it had been born without a head, with tiny wings and a bulbous body, much like the growths the plant angels formed. Before, it had been anything from a limbless creature to a stillborn baby, with black hair, severe deformities, or gaping wounds. Once it had been born alive and as extensively scarred as its parents, and the other day it had even born an acute likeness to Knives, with a certainty to become the evil murderer himself.

But usually Vanessa wasn't awake in the nightmares. Usually she was comatose completely, fulfilling Vash's fear that she might hibernate in a plant angel state forever. If the child was to be born as deformed or tragic as in these dreams, Vash almost wished that Vanessa wouldn't awaken.

Images from the nightmares danced upon the blank wall. Vash sighed, carefully turning from it so he wouldn't have to relive the terrible possibilities anymore.

Closing his eyes, he forced a smile and reached for her. "Our baby will be fine," he whispered to himself, a mantra to ease his mind and perhaps hers as well.

His hands met nothing, and he scrambled to sit as he felt the warm spot under the sheets where she once lay. "Vanessa?" he called hoarsely, not expecting an answer. He stood and moved about the room, searching for her anywhere and everywhere without thinking to brighten the lights. Finally, his bare foot met a bit of cloth on the floor that didn't belong. Stooping to investigate, he found it to be her nightgown, still warm and smelling of her.

Vash gulped. "Crap," he mumbled miserably, gathering his senses for a moment. He rushed to grab a pair of jeans, preparing himself mentally for the crisis.

He decided he'd have to inform the authorities, to help him search for her kidnapper.

Tugging the leg of his pants on, a sharp pain rang out in his bladder. "Gotta pee," he whispered idiotically, dashing for the bathroom and pulling on the jeans. Without any remaining shred of patience, he mashed his hand against the entry pad.

The door didn't slide open like it should have.

He fiddled with the buttons a little, but still the door didn't budge. Vash began to curse this technology, longing for the simple wooden doors of Gunsmoke, which could be unhinged or busted if stuck. This heavy, metal door wouldn't reveal any clue, for through it Vash could neither tell if there was sound or light within. He only knew that he had known no door on the ship to behave in this manner, except when it was locked from the inside.

Eyes widening in excitement, Vash glanced at the abandoned nightgown before returning his gaze to the bathroom door. He preferred to think that she had locked herself in there than to assume that some stranger had kidnapped her. Before he rushed out to search for her, he decided to get this door open and see for certain.

Seeing her conscious filled his heart with a happiness that was weakened only slightly by her silence.

Vanessa remained crouched in the shower, panting and groaning from pain. She didn't speak to Vash, nor look at him, as he burst in and checked her vitals. When he grabbed her wrist away from her chest, she tugged it back defensively.

He even tried to clothe her a bit, but she recoiled, and resisted his attempts to move her from the shower. From the way she held her stomach and breathed, he assumed she was in labor. But she gave him no proof that she was aware of her surroundings. Certainly, she had been alert enough to walk to the bathroom, disrobe, and lock the door, but now she seemed completely opposed to his touch.

As if in a deep, meditative state, she strained her muscles and lungs rhythmically.

Vash hesitated to leave her alone, but exited the room momentarily, just long enough to call up the girls and ask for their help. He didn't betray the details, but merely urged them to help in the birth, which he was fairly sure would occur soon.

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