CHAPTER TWELVE:  EMIGRATION

     Vash reached for their cloaks and began to cover that which needed hiding.  Knives, who was laid across Vanessa and Vash's laps in the back of the hummer, had to be covered completely.  Vanessa was in too much pain to talk or move, considering her day-old wounds and the bumpy ride, so Vash also had the task of cloaking her entirely.  And since Vash the Stampede was just as wanted as his 'kids' now, Vash had to envelop himself in a cloak as well.

      "We're going to look pretty silly.  Those ships should distract people from us, I hope," Meryl muttered, squinting to see the moonlight reflected off the ships.  She yawned, and tried to nudge Millie awake.

     Exhausted, they all envied Millie for her gentle slumber, and even Knives for his drug-induced unconsciousness.

     Vash felt himself nodding off, but catching Vanessa's stiff pose in the corner of his eye brought him to attention.  Knowing not to touch where she was hurt, he reached over and traced the back of her neck.  He stroked the skin curve just behind her ear and softly described the ships to her.  "There's three of them, twenty stories tall and smooth metal.  Shaped like buildings, except rounded on the bottom.  I can't see what keeps them steady, but they might be hovering.  Looks like they landed right next to December, and they're already setting up what looks like really big tents.  Probably to house people before boarding.  There ought to be plenty of space for the population."

     Vanessa nodded, head tilting into his touch.  Checking Knives' pulse again, she was reminded of the need for a secluded place here, in this bustling city.  Knives was too dangerous; she couldn't let him ruin lives again.

     Once within December, Millie awoke and went about finding a place to rent.  She was the least suspicious, healthiest of them all at that point, and found a surprising energy.  In no time, she returned to the hummer with keys, informing them of a nice, little apartment complex basement the owner didn't care about.  "This way, rent's cheap, and Mr. Vash will have privacy and security to hold Mr. Knives," she reasoned, smiling happily.

     Thanking the girls, Vash rushed to get his fellow plant children and their supplies into that basement.  He helped Vanessa to rest on a cot, and laid Knives across another.  Wasting no time, he began turn the dank rooms into a temporary home.

     First, he found a mirror and arranged his hair and clothes such that he wouldn't be recognized.  Properly disguised, he headed out with a wad of double dollars into the dreary morning hours.  Some shops were just opening, and he rushed to find what they'd need.  He filled a backpack with cleaning supplies, bedding, and food.  At a discount furniture store, he arranged for all he could afford – one twin-sized bed (he had to chuckle at this, since it would be his twin's bed), one queen-sized futon, a small table, and a set of four chairs.  They would be delivered to the basement later that afternoon, so he hurried back to check on his brother and Vanessa.

     He found that Vanessa had already found her way into the bathroom, and was soaking in the tub.  Knives was still quite unconscious, so Vash worked in the kitchenette to prepare a small meal for two.

     But when Vanessa came out of the bath, dressed again in the purple dress, she walked past the food and made her way to Knives.  "Vash, come read this for me," she called from the next room.

     He prepared a syringe and filled it with the specified chemical.  But when he went to find a vein, Vanessa stopped him, insisting that she learn to do this sightless.  Vash led her to the vein and bit his lip as she performed the injection.  "The furniture will be delivered in a few hours; why don't you eat something and I'll get things cleaned up?" he suggested, lifting a blanketed Knives onto his shoulder and carrying him into the bathroom.  Knives would have to rest in the tub until after the movers had come and gone.

     Vanessa felt her way back to the other room and picked up a sandwich.  She'd forgotten how long it had been since her last meal.

     Turning back from the bathroom, Vash stopped and stared at her.  In this weak light, he had just noticed the long, dark rows of stitches.

     Sensing his pause, Vanessa swallowed the rest of her breakfast and explained.  "Took off those dirty bandages.  Let wounds air out for now.  Sorry.  I'm sure I look nasty," she apologized.  "I'll hide in bathroom when they get here, too."

     With an awkward chuckle, Vash moved to the sandwiches.  He grabbed one for himself and a second for her, and leaned against the cold, stone wall alongside her.  "You don't look nasty.  You just invoke a lot of pity like this," he replied sweetly.  "I still like you, no matter what."

     Vanessa lowered her head, shook it slightly side to side, and began to laugh.

     Vash frowned.  "Hey, I'm serious," he whined.

     She sighed and turned to him smiling.  "You're darling, Vash.  Really the sweetest thing."  Reaching out with her sore right arm, she tried to find his shoulder and missed.

     He grabbed her hand and gave it a little squeeze.  "I was so worried about you.  There are a lot of things we need to talk about."

      "There most certainly are."  She flashed another genuine smile and bit into her sandwich.

     After helping Vash to wash the thick layer of grime from the basement, Vanessa hid with Knives in the bathroom while the furniture arrived.  Once the men had departed, she came back out to pull the linens into place, trying to memorize the rooms' space as she went.  Finally, Knives was placed onto his bed in the side room.

     Vanessa wandered into the room and began to arrange their medical arsenal onto a crude shelf.  "Where's your bed, Vash?" she whispered.

      "Um…oh, sorry, I couldn't afford another one.  That sounds like a lie, doesn't it…?"  He stopped pulling the sheets into place and scratched the back of his head.  "I'll sleep way over on the side; you won't know I'm there!"

     She laughed softly.  "Sure."

      "Plus, it's kind of cold down here," he mumbled, turning to maneuver a warning device.  He rigged the heart and brain monitor to electrodes on Knives' chest and forehead, and wired a little device into the main room such that it would let an alarm if his vitals dropped or rose beyond the specified bracket.  If everything was fine, it would sound a white noise; if the device received no signal, the sound would stop completely.  Thus, they decided they could close Knives into this room once in a while and be assured safety.

     The rest of the afternoon was spent planning out their lives in this basement.  Knives' health would deteriorate after time, since this constant flow of drugs would weaken him.  So, Vanessa suggested he be allowed to come to consciousness once a day, at night, under Vash's watchful eye.  During this time, they could feed him a main meal and chat, though obviously it would be dangerous.

      "When the ships leave," Vanessa explained, "I can medicate him such that he'll be out for 72 hours solid.  This is sufficient to be gone from the atmosphere before he's awake.  But things could still go wrong, so we'll need my back up plan."

     Vash shook his head, catching himself in the futility of the action.  "I'm not leaving you here alone.  That's just ridiculous.  If it happened that one of us would stay, it'd be me.  Not you."

      "I don't like the humans.  Not like you do," Vanessa reminded him, leaning back against the hard chair.  She flinched, and bent forward again.  "Um…So if one of us leaves, it'd be you!  I'd rather stay here than go to Earth without you."

      "Well, I'm not leaving without you.  No way – not alone with him," Vash asserted, wondering again just what his brother had done to her thus far.  "You know what he'd do with you if you stay."

     She nodded.  "I wouldn't worry about that so much.  Not in the long run."

      "Huh?"  Vash looked at her, confused.  But facial expressions couldn't convey much to she who was sightless.  "That plant army he wants you to provide?  What makes you think-"

      "Impossible," Vanessa declared, voice growing quiet.  "As the saying does, one cannot draw blood from a turnip.  Damage of the past rendered me unable to…The doctor said so."  She bit her lip, mouth drawn together as she rethought her revelation.

     Vash opened his mouth to reply, but then the reality of it set in.  He watched a few tears fall from the creases of her reddened eyelids.

     "Sorry I lied before.  I didn't think it was your business, and…You know, it's the one thing that gives me leverage against him, and…um…Well…"  Her voice was cracking and she truly wished she could see him now, to analyze whatever reaction Vash was having.

     He scooted his seat from the table and walked behind her.  Folding his arms about her shoulders, he leaned forward and kissed her unharmed cheek.  "It's okay.  Really.  It's okay now."  In truth, a part of him was crushed.  'There goes my chance at fatherhood,' he thought, instantly feeling the guilt of his own selfishness.

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