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…Man, I love reviews…And they motivate me to write faster… --------------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER NINE: FRUITLESS DESIGNS The second sun hovered above the horizon, casting an orange glaze over Gunsmoke. A mini hummer purred over glittering sands. Vash took in every detail, lost in the beauty of the moment and fully willing to forget an argument. He and Millie nearly flew from the back seat as the hummer halted and its driver sauntered away. The two remaining passengers exchanged surprised glances and watched her plop onto her rear in the sand a ways off. "I guess we'll be camping out here," Vash murmured. He pitched the tents, and Millie cooked beans for dinner. Meryl remained alone, stewing out there as the suns fully set and the granules of sand lost their heat. Her body began to shiver, but was covered suddenly by a blanket. She turned to see Vash crouched behind her, holding out a hot cup of tea. Sipping it gratefully, she said nothing. "Whatever you're mad about, I'm sorry," Vash murmured softly. Meryl rolled her eyes at his shoddy apology. "I'm mad because you're…You're probably the most compassionate, lovable man alive, but you're a real bastard when it comes to love. I mean romantic love, not Love and Peace love." Vash thought it best not to reply to that. And so Meryl continued, better able to reveal her feelings after time spent angry. "I loved you. I really, honestly loved you, like I never loved anyone before. You didn't know that, did you..." He looked at her questioningly, only half certain of the past in this aspect. "I guessed not. Maybe it was all in my head. I figured, sure, regular people flirt and go on dates, and other people stay at home and avoid talking because there's a psychopath invalid upstairs," she recalled, chuckling bitterly at her mistake. "After all we'd been through, I was sure you'd want to settle down with me. I was sure of it!" "Meryl, I do care about you. But I think maybe you felt so strongly BECAUSE OF all the things we went through," Vash offered. "I've found that sometimes, high stress environments make people attach to each other too easily…" "You think that's what's the matter with me? Well, maybe…But what makes you think that things are any different with her? If that time you three spent together wasn't high stress, I can't imagine what it was! I suppose the isolation may've screwed with your head, but she's not for you." Vash frowned. "Now, don't bring her into this. This is about you, Meryl. Not Vanessa. It's unhealthy to project your…" "Ick!" Meryl interrupted. "Don't talk like a therapist, Vash, it's totally creepy. I'm just trying to say that I think you're brooding, and Vanessa's the problem. You should be clearing your mind and thinking out your next move, not developing a crush on the one person who has complicated matters worse than your brother! That meddling bitch." "Stop talking so badly about her; she doesn't deserve it!" Vash responded, his cheeks brightening to an odd shade of pink. "Geez, Meryl! Lay off! If you knew what she's been through…And she's selfless enough to throw aside her own freedom to accomplish my philosophy, whether she fully believes in it or not! I owe her so much…" For a rare moment, Meryl bathed in the embarrassment of her own words. Blinded by jealousy, she had overlooked the underlying sacrifice. "I'm sorry," she murmured, reaching out to hug Vash. "I'm sorry." Vash nodded in forgiveness, beginning to cry again. He accepted the embrace as well, letting Meryl's delicate arms envelop him for the time. They sat there for hours as Vash spilled his story in broken sentences. In detail, he explained his feelings and worries, both for humanity and for Vanessa. Dismal times were not unknown to him, but such close ties blurred his mind and thoughts. Knives obviously meant to keep Vanessa in the dark concerning all things. She knew at this point that asking him questions was a fruitless endeavor. The only answers Knives gave were vague or unspoken, and she began to doubt he had ever practiced fully satisfying a curiosity besides his own. His silence was uncanny. And though Vanessa had so much experience with long bouts of complete stillness, they were whilst completely alone. With a companion so sinister and mysterious, she was beyond frustrated. The future as she knew it hung in the balance, and the pendulum of fate swayed in directions she couldn't guess. What could be swimming in his mind? Worst of all was the anticipation of rape. He clearly desired to possess her, but thus far his only acts were stares and smirks when she bathed. Even when he held her at night and gripped her hand as they traveled, it seemed more out of comfort and control than lust. He was attentive to her needs, making sure to rest and eat frequently. Her fracture was checked daily, with gentle hands and an unfaltering patience. Those same gentle hands would force her to fulfill his needs one day, she reminded herself. The stress of this constant fear and danger, which was ever present yet without cue, was tearing into her sanity. It stole hours of sleep and ate at her confidence exponentially. "Why am I here? With you?" she whined, choosing to challenge his actions. "I don't understand…What am I to you now?" Knives' thumb caressed the top of her hand as he held it firmly. "You're my mate," he replied softly. Vanessa expected such an answer, and with great courage she searched for harsh, blunt words to spur clarification from him. "You're not man enough," she chuckled to herself, testing him. Knives whirled to face her, surprised and furious, face beet red. "I beg your pardon," he hissed. She resigned to keep her cool and press him a touch further. "Oh, nothing…just wondering why you're keeping me with you for no reason. I do you no good – this is just vanity on your part. The vanity of a man who chooses a 'mate' and tugs her along in this stupid desert…And you're NOT EVEN MAN ENOUGH TO-" Knives suddenly flew at her. He shoved her to the ground, knocking the wind from her, and crawled on top of her. Vanessa struggled with every ounce of energy she could muster, but there was no escaping this hold. He had his left arm across her right shoulder and throat, and his other hand was pinning her left forearm to the sand. His knees were at either side of her hips, his shins pressed hard into her thighs. And her broken arm was tied tightly to her chest and was still too sore to move anyway. Aside from the ability to wriggle her fingers and toes, she was paralyzed. She strained against his hold, but the laws of physics were against her, and her muscles began to cramp from this sudden overuse. Slowly, her attempts at thrashing abated and she pathetically guessed his next move. Her mind was abuzz with memories of those who had raped her before. 'But I thought it was different with Knives,' she thought bitterly. 'Somehow I didn't think he'd actually…I was just… Shit…Shit…This is it…' |
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