CHAPTER SEVEN: BROTHERS UNAWARE (cont2)

Hurt, she held back angst to reply casually. "He hasn't been allowed to enter my body in any way," she stated firmly.

"Well, good, but what about when he wants to? And you've let him touch at you all the time…It just…" He itched his head nervously, meaning well.

"Enunciate yourself, Vash," she asked. "It makes you feel what? Angry? Disgusted? Jealous?"

Even without replying, his face hinted at an affirmative response.

"Fine, but right now, can you put it aside?" she asked hopefully.

"How can I? This has gone too far already! I ought to stop being so selfish and stubborn and kill him!" he whispered in a fit of frustration.

"Don't say that," she snapped. "Don't let go of your convictions like this."

Vash looked at his knees. "But things as they are…When I look at you I see two things: a person I care for very deeply…and my brother's concubine."

Vanessa's face went hot, but she found herself without words.

Vash continued before she could've spoken anyhow. "I know you don't want to be; that you're doing it to save everyone. But come on – I know he's got to think that you're going to be THAT for him."

Her mouth hung open.

He looked up to meet her wide eyes. "Seriously, he is planning on using you for such a thing, isn't he."

She took a deep breath. "He believes that, but only after the humans are gone. But what is that, compared to the fact that those ships will touch down any day now! The important thing here is that he remains compelled to allow the ships to land and leave safely. And he's going to do just that. At this moment in time, everything is set up! The humans are in no danger. You and I are in no danger. And we have the next hours to either brood or be happy. What'll it be?"

"I wish I could slip into diversion for you. Really, I do," Vash answered. "But standing idly by when trouble's afoot just plain goes against my nature! All this time, I've been worthless. The sacrifices, the suffering – they're on YOUR shoulders. I want to take action, and save you from this crap…I ought to do something!" he insisted, flustered with compassion.

"The only sound way for you to save me," she offered, "is for you to give me hope. Things were bad before I met you, and they've been downhill since. I don't have much to look back on. I'd like a happy memory. Please."

"Tell me and I'll make it happen," he vowed.

Vanessa shook her head, smiling. "It's not a formula, it's got to be natural!" She took his right hand and held it softly. "Just sitting with you is good enough. You're the only one in a hundred years that I trust. You'll never hurt me, and I love that about you…There's something about a person who'd cry in perfect empathy for anyone." Studying his features, she grinned wider.  "And you're so adorable, it's not even funny."

Vash chuckled shyly. "No, I'm not; I'm Mr. Disfigurement," he joked, waving his robotic arm a bit.

"I always heard that scars are sexy on men," she retorted sassily.

"Ooh, then I'm a damn sexy man," he added, flashing his trademark goofy grin.

Vanessa smiled, but lowered her eyes. "And my scars…what would you think of them…"

"I'd feel sympathy, then anger, then depression, and finally acceptance," he listed solemnly. "But time constraints being what they are, I'll have to run through the stages pretty quick. A couple minutes, maybe. Or I can just ignore them," he suggested openly, a bit of eagerness shining through.

She smirked, appearing still a little uneasy.

Something more reassuring was needed. Vash drew her into a hug, made awkward by their positions in opposite chairs, and brought his mouth to her ear. "I doubt that anyone could cause you to look less beautiful. You say you were deformed at birth, but I'd say you got over that. And no matter what anyone's done to you, you'll always be an intelligent, charming lady." He drew away to see her reaction.

Her cheeks were a little red, kind of splotchy. She was smiling a bit, but her eyes darted from his gaze sporadically. "Thank you," she replied politely. 'He's seen so many women, I'm no more special than them,' she thought. 'He'd say anything to make me feel better; that's his personality. But just because he doesn't feel towards me what I thought he might, I shouldn't let myself feel disappointed,' she reasoned, forcing herself to smile wider.

But Vash knew the difference between her genuine smiles and the fake ones by now. He resigned to speak his immediate thoughts instead of pondering over compliments. "I'm sorry I drug you into all this…It seems you're much stronger than I could be, but you don't deserve this situation. Damn it, I wish things were different! I'd be able to show you a real kind of living; one without running and pain and sacrifices. I'm nothing but trouble…I can't give you the kind of hope you need," he lamented. Glancing up at her, his mind switched gears. "I'm such a bastard that even now, when I look at you, I'm thinking about what I want from you…"

"What's that," she whispered.

Vash hesitated, but since he had already opened his big mouth, he should surely continue. "I want to take you from him, but I also sort of want to make you my own. Kind of…I mean, not like he does, but because…I feel really close to you, and…um.." His voice grew quiet as he spoke, until it faded into a stutter. A blush crept over his face, redder than Vanessa's, and he regretted putting her in such a position of discomfort.

"That's okay," Vanessa said reassuringly. "If it were possible, I'm sure I'd like that."

    "Huh?" he asked, mystified. 

     Vanessa leaned in to him again, with her hands on his shoulders.  She stopped an inch from his lips, pausing to ponder the possibility of rejection a second time.

     Vash kissed her.  He wrapped his arms about her waist, kissing deeply and freely, happy to finally explain himself.  She seemed to melt into his arms and against his mouth, responding with every bit of enthusiasm and passion as he put forth.  Their actions became feverish sighs of relief; comfort on a level foreign to either soul.

'…Damn it…' Even with his ear to the door, Vash couldn't perceive that anyone was in Knives and Vanessa's room. After rushing to his room to retrieve a lock-pick from his backpack, he hurried to enter the room, pulse rising.

The sour smell of burnt paper met his nostrils immediately, directing his attention first to the ashen mess in the far trash bin. Vash rushed to this clue, but besides paper ash, the only obvious item within was a leather-bound book cover. His heart sank as he recognized the blackened thing as Vanessa's trusty volume. He lifted it, causing all the fragile pages to crumble into nothing - hundreds of meticulous sketches lost forever.

'My book? It's where I plot out my modifications,' she had explained to him. 'After I pore over the textbooks, I create these blueprints for regulating an action. All elements must remain controlled, or the subject will be mangled. For every isolated chemical I wish to alter in the mind, there are a thousand other details that must remain at set levels. This book, it's so many things now…the cure for many diseases, as well as the cause; the ability to alter sensory perception and affect emotional climate; and lately I've been dappling in genetics – a page on creating trisomy, another on defeating it, and more on the way for insertion as gene therapy…Each page took weeks, sometimes months, to complete…'

The wall clock read 8:17am. She had left his room last night, book at hip, around 4:50am. This book could've been burning for over three hours. A hasty search of the room revealed that their belongings were gone, the beds were unmade, and the bottle of rubbing alcohol apparently used as the accelerant for the fire had been purchased months ago, as said the receipt.

Wasting no time, Vash raced down to the lobby and rang the tiny service bell.

The friendly desk worker stepped out after a moment, and addressed Vash with a smile. "May I help you?"

"Yeah, um," Vash began, struggling to remain calm as adrenaline and fear coursed through his body. "They, er, my brother and Vanessa – did they check out?"

The woman shook her head with a confused look upon her face. "What, did they…They left?" she asked, growing flustered. "I was wondering…"

"…When they left, were they dressed for travel? And did they say anything at all? Nothing? Did she look hurt at all? Or upset? No!? Um…uh, okay…well…thanks," he stammered, finally turning to his room.

There, he opted to change out of his uniform into leather-covered jeans and threw aside his starchy shirt to reveal the leather vest beneath. The red coat was wadded up and packed into his travel bag.  After wrapping his old, crude cloak about his shoulders, he slung his bag over his shoulder.

But where…

He paused in the hall. 'Where the hell am I going?' he thought. 'The cave, his old base, another town, some hidden ship…Where? But…would she want me to follow?'

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