Author's Notes: Wow. Over 4000 words. o-o Let's just hope the quality equals the quantity. -sweatdrop- Thankee, reviewers! Sorry it took a whole week to write this chapter! x.x
;Standard disclaimer applies.
Chapter thirteen: Paranoia
Lavender stirred involuntarily in her sleep and hugged her white plush closer into her chest. A visionless dream began surging into her mind, a whirl of voices.
'It hurts,' she heard herself cry to the darkness, feeling sorrow beyond her understanding. 'He's done it before,' the void echoed back. 'I do not…nor do…I only wish…' The voices circled and reverberated off one another and she could not grasp what each was saying. '…my father's love…my father's…Lavender…Lavender!'
"Lavender, wake up!" Vash coaxed exasperatedly.
"Wha?" Lavender uttered sleepily, rolling over and out of her dream. Vash was shaking her vigorously.
"Lavender, wake up," he reiterated, now with an odd anxiousness in his voice. "You've gotta pack your things."
-
"Da-aaaaaaad," Lavender whined above the constant purring of the jeep.
"Yes?" Vash replied slightly irritably.
"Where are we going? You promised we'd never do any traveling on my birthday," Lavender said indignantly.
"We're going to New Miami, Lavender."
'New Miami,' Lavender repeated in her mind. Her heart jumped then fell back with a humiliating 'splat.' 'So he's finally coughing up,' she thought, folding her arms and slouching back into the leather tarpaulin. 'Bit late.' A bland eight years had past by since Vash's promise to reunite Lavender with her childhood friend. Lavender was now seventeen and as normal a teenager as any other. Thus, she believed she was quite the opposite of normal. During those eight years, her hair had become long, sleek and wavy, she was thin and, surprisingly, had grown taller than either Vash or Milly had inferred.
"It's about time," Lavender grumbled.
"Lavender! Be gracious," Milly reprimanded from the passenger's seat. Lavender rolled her eyes.
"Well, it is about time."
"Do what your mother says, Lavender," Vash said, not taking his eyes off the stretch of sand in front of him. Lavender scowled at the rear-view mirror and slumped down into the seat some more. She knew Milly wasn't her actual mother. She was smart, although it didn't take someone with immense intellect to do the math. Brown plus blonde don't make black, she had summed countless time before. No less did aqua green and blue equal lilac. The genes just didn't add up.
Lavender grabbed up her satchel of possessions and rooted around in the front pocket. She pulled out a small Discman and headphones. A belonging that had proved ultimately handy whenever Lavender's family traveled long distances such as these. Gazing at passing sand dunes the whole way only caused her to become restless. However, she very much liked music, she loved it in fact, and it kept her sane on these agonizingly monotonous sand planes. Besides listening to music, Lavender enjoyed playing it as well. A glossy, leopard-patterned electric guitar rested in the trunk of the jeep. Vash and Milly had pooled money together like Church mice and bought it for her on her fourteenth birthday, along with several guides and handbooks to accompany it. Being bright for her age, learning how to use the instrument had not been a problem for Lavender.
Another birthday present with a leopard-like pattern covering it gave a very anxious "miaaaoooow." Lavender glanced down at the cat carrier by her side and swiveled it around. Charlie, her fat but enormously lovable ginger moggy, was her gift at fifteen. Vash and Lavender had stepped out for a delectable lunch of ice cream and donuts when they came upon a box of kittens and a black cat, ostensibly the mother of the brood. Lavender took one look at them and instantaneously began to plead with her father. Vash had specifically made it clear that Lavender would not receive a present that year since the guitar had been so expensive. But how could he have refused such a sad face? The cardboard sign above the box bore, "Free to good home," anyway.
Charlie cried again, putting his paws up against his confines and splaying his claws through the wire. Lavender's face fell with sympathy a little and she petted his toes in a 'not long now' fashion. She set her headphones in and prodded the play button on her Discman. Nothing issued into her ears. She jabbed the button again, and again. Peering huffily down at the machine, she noticed the innocent flash of the red 'battery' light.
"Garr!" Lavender growled loudly and, if tangible, would have 'humphed' even further down into the seat. Instead she just glared jadedly again at the rear-view mirror.
"Dad," she puffed.
"Yes?" Vash circumspectly replied with a sideways glance.
"We're never gonna get there at this rate," Lavender proclaimed. "Put your foot on it."
-
"Airies," Knives called through the metal with an air of sincere regret. "Please let me talk to you." Airies cringed at his voice and swallowed back her tears. She screwed up her eyes and burrowed tighter into her safe corner, shutting her own and Knives' voice out. She didn't want to see him. Not after what he had done to her. The pain was still ricocheting back and forth through her body, prolonged by her violent shaking. He had acted so abruptly. Without warning.
"Airies," Knives probed again. Airies heard heartfelt emotion in his voice and willed herself not to spring forward and unlock her bedroom door. She wanted to understand. She wanted to be in his arms and feel the pain leave her and be replaced by reconciling love. Whimpering faintly, Airies rubbed the mixing blood and tears from her cheeks with the heel of her palm. She squinted slightly and unfurled her fist before her. The scarlet liquid trickled down her wrist and forearm, helped by the salty tears that made it even more fluid. Airies bit at her lip and closed herself away from the sight. Everything was making her weak. The salt and the wound it was upsetting and stinging it like venom; the sadness and the voices speaking it; the bond with her father near shattered like the bones in her shoulder. She could taste it all. The very air was making her nauseous.
-
Lavender gave her new house a questionable, lopsided grimace. She puckered her brow at the living room and gave it a little less than its desired credit. It was nicer than most of her previous houses, she would not call them homes, but since there had been so many of the aforesaid, she had trained herself into disliking all of them lest she get a little too attached and then have to leave when her father said so. And though this new house was comfortably large and dust and must free, Lavender couldn't help but dislike the fact that it was situated in a very pleasant suburb of New Miami that was completely opposite where her childhood companion used to live.
"It's nice and roomy, don't you think?" Milly said cheerily, setting a carry bag in the centre of the room. Lavender ignored her for a moment and continued to give the living room her once-over.
"Well…" she began judiciously, striding primly over to the staircase and observing its granite grandeur. "It's not bad," she conceded. Vash appeared next to Milly, Lavender's guitar slung over his shoulder by its strap and Charlie in his cat carrier in Vash's other hand.
"Come on, let's pick our rooms so we can dump everything and have lunch!" he intended, grinning.
"Yeah, I'm hungry," exclaimed Milly, returning Vash's grin. Lavender rolled her eyes. It was just typical that all they could think of was food. Then again, was there anything better to think of?
"You first, Raven," said Vash. Lavender regarded him with a slight nod then, none of the rooms she could see into bearing much appeal, made up the stairs. At the top, she had half expected to find there a small hallway with three or more doorways branching off of it. Instead there was a short landing and only a single door. She pushed it ajar, still relatively unimpressed. Them moment she set foot inside, her eyes were shot with sunlight and she quickly shielded her face. Both the opposite and neighboring walls were panelled with slightly tinted glass and allowing the midday sunlight to billow in. Lavender squinted and paced forward to the wall facing her. She rested her fingers on the cool glass and gazed down into the street below. None of the other houses had a view like this, she discerned with pride.
"I want this room!" Lavender shouted out blatantly, glancing over her shoulder at the door.
"Okay!" she heard Vash and Milly call back up to her from the rooms beneath. Lavender turned back to her view and grinned menacingly down at suburbia. Flipping one of the upper panels askew, she leaned out of the window and eyed the buildings. A cool breeze hovering above the city and not daring to grace the streets below drifted past and through Lavender's silky hair, throwing it about in the sunshine.
"Raven!" Vash's voice drifted faintly up to her. Lavender was about to reply when a familiar dwelling caught her eyes in the distance. The red rooftop of Syrell's home stuck out like a swollen thumb. Lavender's heart leapt and so did she, almost out the window.
"Yes?" she called loudly back to Vash after he beckoned her a second time.
"Come and get lunch!" Vash issued. Lavender took another pleased look at the corrugated a-frame then drew her eyes away and went back down stairs.
"I'm not hungry," she said dismissively as Vash opened his mouth to announce something. "I think I'll take a walk." And with that, she whipped outside and up the street. Headed in the general direction of Syrell's home, Lavender jogged up and down suburbs and then bustling city streets, peering around every so often for any signposts or familiar landmarks. She had very rarely visited this plane of New Miami in her time living here as a six-year-old but, despite that, she picked her way through the city and was coming breathily along the street of her destination in under half an hour.
Lavender dragged her feet through the thin layer of sand and came to a halt at the end of the boulevard. She put her hands on her hips in a triumphant stance and smiled up at the tessellated brick house before her. It was vaguely as she remembered. There was a bit of an odd cleanliness about the windows and some of the mould had been persuaded away from the walls but it was definitely Syrell's home. Lavender strode forward onto the elongated deck—funny, she didn't really remember it having a porch—and gave the door a sharp knock.
"Coming!" she heard. Within a few moments, a stout but friendly looking woman in a cooking apron answered the door. Straight away, Lavender's hopes of finally being reunited with her friend died away and a word of bitter understanding came to her: 'Oh.' Syrell had obviously migrated elsewhere, since Lavender had no idea who this woman was. She could not have been a friend of Syrell's family, either, since they had always kept to themselves.
"Good afternoon," said the woman. She gave Lavender a sweet smile. "Do I know you, dear?" the woman asked with affable politeness.
"Er…no," Lavender hesitated.
"How can I help you, then?" Lavender thought for a moment. Perhaps the lady would know where Syrell's family had moved to.
"Well, you see...I'm looking for a friend of mine," Lavender began.
"Do they live on this street?" the woman inferred.
"No, they don't. Or rather, they used to. In fact, they used to live in this house," Lavender added.
"Oh, I see now. What was your friend's name?"
"Syrell," Lavender said. "And he's about my age. Did he…um…do you know if he was living here before you?" she tried. The woman thought about this
"No. I don't think so, no. I bought this house off of a married couple, but I don't think they had children."
"Ah." Lavender looked crestfallen. The woman gave her an expression of genuine sympathy and said: "Never mind, dearie." This didn't cheer Lavender up much. She did mind and she didn't want to entertain a positive mind. Thanking the woman, Lavender left and trudged back down the road. A heavy heart weighed down in her feet and she didn't much want to return to her new house. And as she had dashed across half the city, her stomach now rumbled and protested against her doing it again. She was on the edge of a junction now and cars were purring up and down the streets. Glancing around, Lavender saw that there was a small complex of shops, and a café among them, across the road. She smiled and felt around in her pocket, pulling out a fifty double dollar note that she had received as birthday money. Vash had said to buy something that she wanted, and right now what she wanted more than anything was food. So she quickly crossed over and went into the café.
"Good afternoon, miss," the man at the counter, tagged 'Joe', greeted her cordially. Lavender gave him a wan sort of smile.
"Afternoon," she said, browsing over the assorted snacks behind the glass of the counter. She would settle for something sweet, she deduced. A delectable and moist piece of chocolate mud cake stood out dark and gooey with hazelnuts littered about the icing and at least an inch of crème filling in between layers. Lavender gulped back her fancy for it and decided on a custard tart and a small spearmint milkshake instead.
And they were rather tasty, Lavender thought, as she nibbled on the shortbread crust of the tart, enjoying the coolness of the custard and the cinnamon taste complimenting the pastry. Sighing, she stared glumly from her table into the street outside. She wasn't looking forward to going home. Vash would only scold her for leaving so suddenly without a second glance and going off alone into 'such a dangerous city.' Lavender hated that about her father; he had 'such a hopeless case of paranoia,' as she often put it. Of course, she had never dared say that to him or her mother. It really did stress her being constantly non-settled in once place, though. There were a lot of things that annoyed Lavender about her parents. For one, they never slept in the same room. She knew why this was, but it bothered her nonetheless that they couldn't be more discreet about their charade. If one is to lie, then one might destroy evidence opposing one, Lavender often philosophised.
She sighed again and circled the dregs of her milkshake around with her straw. There were also a lot of questions in her life. And not just questions a simple and average teenager would ask. For example: Why did she sometimes get random bursts and pulses of energy? Lavender had even asked Vash this. He would simply say, "hormones," cover an anxious look and speak nothing more on the topic. And why was he always hiding the photo album and ogling it by night? Lavender also wondered why, ever since she was a child, she had dreams that involved her talking to herself and feeling emotion that almost seemed to belong to someone else. Though she had long since gotten accustomed to these dreams, it still perplexed her why she got them. Then she considered that, maybe, since her father was pretty paranoid, he had passed some mental incapacity on to her. It wasn't a very appealing explanation.
'Then again,' Lavender thought as she slurped down the last of the froth, 'maybe I don't want to know why.' She shoved her rubbish forward into the centre of the table and rested her chin lazily on her palm. She supposed now it was time to return home, but didn't warm up to the prospect, as she didn't fancy being lectured the moment she set foot in the kitchen. There was still a slight groan inLavender's stomach, too.
'Maybe if I…' she considered, thinking. 'I know!'
"Excuse me," Lavender called to Joe.
"Yes?" Joe looked at her with genial politeness.
"It just so happens," Lavender began prudently, "that today is my birthday."
"Congratulations," said Joe earnestly. "How old are you?"
"I'm seventeen," Lavender replied. "And since it's my birthday, I think I'd like to treat myself and my family to something."
"What a nice idea! What would you like?" Lavender left her table and came to survey the contents of the shelves again. It didn't take her long to decide.
"I want a cake," she said. "A mud cake. Like that one there." She pointed to the imperial mound of brown mire.
"So you want the whole cake?" Joe asked. Lavender gave him a customer's smile.
"Yes," she said happily. This would solve both the hunger problem and the sermon. A rich and gooey mud cake would reconcile and wrongdoing.
"Alrighty," Joe beamed, ducking away into the storage room and coming back with a white, square box. He carefully put it in a plastic bag and swapped it for the money Lavender gave him.
"Be careful on your way home," Joe warned considerately, putting the twenty double dollars in the cashier as Lavender made for the door. "You wouldn't want to drop it."
"I'll be careful. Thank you." Lavender left the shop and, with a considerably more cheerful mood, she strolled hastily down the road towards her home. There was no way Vash would have the heart to yell at her now.
'He's such a sucker for food,' Lavender thought, smirking and giggling to herself. What Lavender really liked about her father was how easy it was to impress him. She had once made him pancakes for breakfast and he had acted warmly to her for the whole of that day. And despite all the negative things that Lavender could conjure about Vash, the fact still remained that she did love him.
'I just wish he wouldn't—' "OOF!" Lavender grunted as someone collided with her out of the blue. She fell backwards onto the concrete, winded, her bag flying out of her hands.
"OH NO!" she gasped and scuffled forward momentously. Luckily she caught the delicate cake with her palms narrowly before it met the footpath.
"Ohmygod, I'm so sorry!" exclaimed themale who had smashed into her. Lavender's head instantaneously swiveled one hundred and eighty degrees and she gave him a look that could chill the very planet itself with the fire in her eyes. Her breath coming in bull-like huffs, she picked herself up and glared scathingly into the boy's eyes. For some strange reason, his jaw dropped and Lavender almost heard the 'clunk' of it meeting the pavement. Ignoring this, she burst out.
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING? LOOK WHERE YOU'RE GOING WHEN YOU RUN, YOU DAFT IDIOT! YOU COULD'VE SQUISHED MY BIRTHDAY CAKE! I PAID THROUGH THE NOSE TO GET THIS MUD CAKE AND YOU WOULD HAVE RUINED MY DAY COMPLETELY!"
The boy said nothing and just stared incredulously at her.
"Well…?" Lavender demanded. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
"…Lavender?" he posed quietly, his eyes widening. Lavender was stunned.
"What?" she blurted.
"Is that you, Lavender?"
"Uh, do I know you?" Lavender asked reprovingly. She cocked a brow.
"Lavender, it's me! Syrell!" Lavender's jaw made its own 'clunk' against the footpath.
"Uh…wha…gah?" Lavender stumbled over her words. "My god," she said finally. She was bubbling up with glee inside. "Syrell! It's you! You've changed so much!"
"Hah!" Syrell hooted. He smiled and ran a hand over his slicked, auburn hair. "You haven't," he laughed. "Not a bit!"
"Rrrr!" Lavender growled, her face turning angry claret. Syrell broke into fits of laughter and deftly caught Lavender's fist as it made for his face.
"Don't laugh at me, you!" Lavender bellowed, scowling.
"Don't yell at me," Syrell countered, chuckling. He smiled warmly and Lavender smiled back, lowering her fist.
"Has it really been eleven years, Syrell?" she asked.
"Feels more like twelve," Syrell replied. They both laughed and smiled at one another again.
"I went to your house," Lavender stated, "But there's a lady living there now. She said that she bought the house off of a married couple."
"Yeah. Mum and dad," Syrell replied.
"Huh?"
"I moved out before them, see? I live on the other side of the city in a small flat now," he explained.
"Oh, I see! Mum, dad and I live on the other side now too. We just got here today!" Lavender was now beaming she was so happy. She had found Syrell! Nothing could have made her day better. Syrell saw the elation in her eyes and grabbed her by the hand.
"Let's do something together!" he proposed, beaming back at her. Lavender hid a blush and nodded.
"Would you like to come back to my place and have some cake?" she asked.
-
"Airies," Knives tried again ruefully. "Please." At that, Airies caved in and crawled weakly forward. She clasped a hand over her shoulder to stem the pain and winced blood out of her eye as she flicked the lock on the door. The door slid open and Knives promptly knelt down beside Airies, taking her in his arms as she began to descend.
"Airies, I'm sorry," he whispered, holding her close and gently. A noise both a whimper and a cry escaped Airies' lips and she clutched at the fabric of Knives shirt.
"I didn't mean to…" Knives mumbled.
Airies peered up into her father's eyes and her lips made a smile. The pain began to fade away.
"I understand," she said softly.
-
"Wow, it sure is late," said Lavender as she and Syrell wandered slowly towards her house. "We must have spent hours in that bar!"
"Yeah, we did," Syrell pointed out. The two of them had frittered away the rest of the afternoon in a friendly local, just chatting. However, it ended up being that neither of them had drunk or eaten a single thing while they were in there. Lavender had missed Syrell more greatly than she knew. She had missed his wit, his sky blue eyes that twinkled when he was happy, his manner, especially though, his friendship and she had been completely smitten with him during their time together.
"It must be…what, nearly ten o'clock? Dad will be furious with me!" Lavender laughed. Syrell gave an uncertain smile.
"Thank god you've got that cake to butter him up," he said.
"Yeah," Lavender chuckled. "You coming in?" she asked as her hand clasped around the doorknob.
"I think I better," Syrell replied. "It's my fault you're so late, so I should help you explain."
Lavender adopted smile that stretched between both her ears. Syrell was always so thoughtful, she realized. She pushed the door open and, to her surprise, spotted Vash almost immediately in front of her, looking very unhappy. He sat slouching in a throne-like armchair directly in front of the door, one leg folded over the other. He was stroking a purring Charlie in his lap and a defiant scowl was set in his eyes. Lavender stared and had to hold back a small laugh. Obviously enough, Vash had plunked himself down and just sat for hours, waiting and planning exactly what he would say and do when Lavender returned. This amused her. If Vash was attempting to appear the domineering father, he was failing miserably.
Vash slowly raised his hand away from Charlie and pointed stiffly at the clock on the wall next to him.
"You are late," he said calmly, repressing the anger in his voice.
"I didn't say what time I was coming home," Lavender countered. Vash suddenly looked livid.
"Where HAVE you been?" he demanded. Charlie jerked awake and promptly scampered off Vash's lap and into the darkness. Vash didn't look so comical now.
"I said I was going for a walk," Lavender corrected, determined to remain composed though she trod back a little. Syrell peered over her shoulder then carefully stepped around her.
"Good evening, Mister Eriks," he said friendlily. Vash's eyes snapped to Syrell. If he had been fuming at Lavender he looked as though he were about to erupt on Syrell.
"Who are you?" Vash shot at Syrell, looking him over. Vash's eyes suddenly widened to the size of tennis balls and with the fury of a charging sandworm. "What have you been doing with my daughter?"
"Nothing dangerous or questionable, I assure you, sir," Syrell replied, a tranquil, earnest smile gracing his lips. Vash opened his mouth to question him further.
"Dad!" Lavender injected, stepping in front of Syrell again before he was subject to Vash's lava flow. "Dad, this is Syrell! I bumped into him on the way home and we got talking and we completely forgot about the time and I really didn't mean to stay out so late. It just sort of…happened," she explained feverishly. Vash narrowed his eyes darkly.
"And I wonder what other things just sort of…happened," he said, eyeing Syrell. Lavender's cheeks went slightly pink and she glared at her father.
"For goodness' sake, dad!" she shouted.
"Don't talk to me like that!" retorted Vash.
"What's going on in here?" Milly had just surfaced from her bedroom in her pajamas, looking haggard.
"Lavender's finally home," Vash told Milly simply, glancing at her then turning back to his daughter. "I'm very ashamed of you, Lavender," he said, shaking his head disapprovingly. "Going off like that into such a dangerous city…" Lavender rolled her eyes and snorted.
"Come off it, dad," she said derisively. "I'm seventeen. Not three. Why can't you stop being so bloody paranoid once in a while?"
In a flash, everyone in the room was silent. Vash was looking breathy, Lavender had a hand to her cheek and Milly and Syrell were so stiff with shock they were in danger of freezing over. Vash suddenly realized what he had done and stepped forward.
"Lavender…" he murmured, reaching out.
"Mister Vash," Milly interceded.
'Vash?' Lavender's eyes amplified in a mixture of confusion and anger. She struck Vash's hand sharply away before it could connect with her.
"Don't touch me," she spat, glaring down at her feet. Vash's bottom lip was pursed between his teeth in uncertainty. Lavender ignored the fact that all other eyes in the room were placed on her. She knelt down and discreetly took up the photo album beside the armchair. Righting herself, she opened the book at a random page and pored over the images. For a long while, everyone was deathly quiet as Lavender turned the pages. After minutes of this routine, her brow suddenly knotted in anger and her hand flared up and began ripping the photographs and pages out with volatile force. She bared her teeth, scrunching up page after page and throwing them at Vash who shielded himself and watched hopelessly as Lavender desecrated the book. When Milly made forward, Lavender decided it was time to make her exit. Her anger fueled, she lobbed the album at Vash and rapidly whisked out the door and up the street.
Half an ile, five streets away, Lavender ducked into an alleyway and leant against the wall, catching her breath. Vaguely she noticed that there was still a photo creased up in her hand. Stepping shakily into the moonlight, she unfurled the paper and held it up. As she stared at it, her blood chilled.
'It can't be…'
But there was no mistaking it. The man in the photograph was Vash the Stampede, and the woman standing in front of him…was Lavender's mother.
Long chapter. :0 Again, sorry for the delay! x.x