He was dozing on and off...not really sleeping. His mind was sharp as his body rested. Meryl was lying on the ground, using him as a pillow with her head on his uninjured thigh, in the concave of a scar that seemed perfectly carved out for her. She was facing away from him. He'd decided to feign unconsciousness in an effort to avoid any uncomfortable situations, but the longer they spent down there, the more he realized how comfortable he felt around her.
"I know you're awake." He barely heard her whisper in a way that guaranteed she didn't know if he was awake at all. "Are you still mad at me?"
He yawned and stretched his arms out wide. He scratched his head. "Me? Mad? At you? Why would I be mad at you?" He'd actually thought she was mad at him.
She rolled over and looked at him. "I just got the feeling...after what happened...and you getting shot..."
Oh, that's why she was being so quiet. "Oh, come on. You know that wasn't your fault. We got ambushed. I wasn't paying attention." He looked away. "I was worried, and I was in pain, but I wasn't mad at you." He looked back at her. "So don't sweat it, small stuff." He smirked down at her.
She cocked an eyebrow at the remark, but let it slide. She took a deep breath and sighed, dropping eye contact and instead looked at his chest. "I just don't want to be a burden... They say nothing but bad luck and misery follow you...and if I can do my part to prevent it..." She trailed off self-consciously realizing what she was saying, turning as she did to face the opposite wall. "But," she started proudly again, "if you're not mad, then I suppose I won't apologize."
He smiled a little. He was quiet for a moment. "You know...not everything that follows me is bad."
Meryl turned over at that, rolling her eyes at him. "Yeah right, mister. Like what."
"Well," he started quietly, thoughtfully, "there's you."
He could hear her sudden intake of breath. She propped herself up on her arm, getting closer to eye level, and that's when he saw it so clearly. That look in her eyes: she wanted so badly to believe him, but...couldn't? He doubted what he saw. Surely she must have known how important she was. How could she not?
Suddenly, something in his tired heart broke for her. She tried to stay so closed up, so under control, but that one look she gave him told him everything. At some time in the past, she had been different, trusting, and someone had ripped her tender heart out and given it back in a thousand little used pieces. He didn't know who had done it, be it a careless boy or a workaholic father or an insensitive mother or an overbearing boss, but it really didn't matter. Someone had hurt her deeply, to the point where she refused to put her trust into anything but cold, hard fact.
She pushed up and slid backwards to sit against the wall next to him, not touching him. She'd been leaning on him for hours, so the sudden loss of contact was a surprise to him (and it surprised him even more that he noticed at all). She was looking down at the floor. She propped her chin up on her left knee and hugged it to her chest, obviously conflicted over his words. And for some reason, seeing her like this, it made him incensed. They hadn't sent her after him: Vash, the silly skirt-chasing lunatic who let little kids clobber him and liked to consume equally large amounts of Wild Turkey and donuts. They'd sent her after "VASH THE STAMPEDE," the outlaw, the womanizer, the murderer, and everything else that entailed. They'd sent her to the Outer, most likely expecting that truly terrible things would happen to her, that she'd never return. And it wasn't that she wasn't capable, because she obviously was. He just didn't understand how anyone could have let a girl like her...go...
"Are you drunk?" she asked bluntly, quietly, in a flat tone.
Her words cut through his thoughts. "Me? What? N-NO!" he sputtered. His jaw clenched. He wanted to say something else, anything else, but his mind was blank. He just stuttered for a moment more until she started talking again.
"Vash...I..." She took in a deep breath. She knew it needed to be said. She spoke quietly, but her words felt heavy. "I'm...really...sorry." She kept her eyes on the ground, afraid to look at him. "I don't know why I would say something like that." She was quiet for a moment, and then continued, talking mostly to herself. "I don't even know why I treat you the way I do most of the time...just forget it..." She trailed off again, not really knowing what to say next. She didn't know what to do next. She didn't even know what his words had meant. She knew what she wanted them to mean, but as her father always told her, "to assume makes an ASS out of U and ME." It didn't matter anyway. She'd probably just ruined any chance of anything.
She heard a metallic object clink on the ground. She looked over. Vash picked something off the ground. He inspected it for a moment, rolled it around in his hand, and then said, "Hey, want a present?"
Suspiciously, she eyed him. She'd...actually...apologized, and he wasn't gloating or even really acknowledging it. Maybe he really had forgotten it. How dare that broom head finally start to follow directions now! Still, she was curious. "O...kay..." He held his fist over her and she held out her hand. A flattened, circular chunk of lead fell into it. She looked up at him, confused. "A spent bullet?"
"Yeah. It just worked itself out of my leg. Cool, huh?" She looked at it, startled, with sudden understanding and dropped it almost immediately. He smiled at her reaction. "See?" He ruffled her hair playfully, but stopped when she started growling. He laughed nervously. "No harm done...right?"
The tension was already lifting. He smiled to himself. They were getting pretty good at hanging out. This was starting to feel...well...normal. Now, if only he could wrap up this trouble with his brother...
She watched as he moved closer to Knives. As she looked at the unconscious man, she found it hard to believe how jovial Vash still managed to be. If it wasn't for him, she'd be tearing her hair out. But this was her job. He was her assignment. She wasn't supposed to be comforted by his presence as much as she was. He wasn't supposed to act like he cared. And they definitely weren't supposed to enjoy each other's company. But...that's exactly what was going on...and it felt great. Earlier, he'd held her close, talked her down, and kept his arm around her for far longer than necessary. But...she was so unsure, and not just about him. She was unsure about everything: about whether or not they were even going to get out of this mess. Vash said there were airships on their way, but with his luck, she had to wonder...
She watched him as he picked up a vial and drew out its contents with a syringe. She felt like some invisible barrier between the two of them had finally been breached.
She told herself it was probably caused by being submerged in such a stressful situation. She'd always heard from other field agents that it was a recipe for...well...disaster, especially when business and pleasure collided. But it was just another hazard of working in the field. She remembered that as a young recruit, she'd scoffed at her superiors. Nothing like that could ever come over her...
He held the needle straight up, tapping the syringe a few times to coax all the air bubbles to the top, careful not to give his brother an embolism. She laughed at herself. Thinking about a love affair on the job...under these circumstances? Who was she kidding? And if stressful situations really drove people into one another's arms, well, then she and Vash had been in enough tight spots to fuel a small town with the amount of sparks they should have been giving off. She sighed deeply. It was a nice theory. Maybe something was wrong with her. Maybe something was wrong with him.
Suddenly she felt it: something really was wrong. She felt an oppressive presence fall on top of her. She would have puked if she'd had anything in her. She looked around, saw the confusion on Vash's face, and followed his line of sight to see a broken syringe and piercing icy eyes staring at her with unadulterated hatred.
Then she passed out.
Through the darkness of unconsciousness, she became vaguely aware of a strange sensation: it felt like her skin was crawling with electricity. The atmosphere was charged with it. She slowly resurfaced. She still felt pushed down by the heavy air, but she managed to prop herself up. She saw an incredibly eerie sight in front of her: Vash was huddled in a corner, holding his right arm; his face was twisted in pain. Knives was sitting across from Vash; small feather-like tendrils protruded from his arms which turned into thin blades before evaporating into the air with a static crackle. He looked exhausted, like he'd been trying to regain control of his body for hours. She suddenly realized she had no idea how long she'd been out.
She sat, silently terrified, and watched Knives as the protrusions got thicker and longer before evaporating. His body...it was changing... Vash hadn't told her about this. And then a truly scary thing happened: he formed one that didn't evaporate. Knives looked at his brother, the blade long enough to reach Vash. Meryl looked at Vash's huddled form. Had Knives already injured him? Knives brought his blade-arm back, as if to slice through Vash.
At that moment, her body made a decision that didn't have anything to do with her brain. She found herself limping, then jumping, then falling in front of Vash. She spread her arms wide in front of him. He sucked air in quickly in a gasp. Knives stopped his forward motion altogether and looked at her. And he...started...to laugh.
"Stupid fool. You don't even know who to fear."
She looked at him, confused. She turned around to see Vash, his eyes full of worry for her. Something was wrong with his arm.
"Meryl," he growled through clenched teeth, "get away from me!"
Get away from him? But they were in a hole, with absolutely nowhere to go...
Knives took in the scene before him, realizing the potential victory that had just presented itself. "Isn't this lovely?" he quipped. "You can take this trash out for me." He sighed. He knew his brother was close to losing control. "I've already been the recipient of the business end of your arm, and after all, I am very tired, Vash."
He leaned against the wall as if watching television.
"What's...what's...what's wrong with you!" Meryl screamed as Vash's arm began to glow and expand. Her ears started to pop. His arm was forming into...some kind of bark-like...gun structure. It was longer than he was tall. There were strange faces at the tip and a ball of energy contained between bark-like structures at the center. Long feathers sprouted out of the back of his shoulder.
He looked at her face and saw the terror in her eyes. You're a monster, someone else's almost-forgotten words echoed clearly through his head, and he hoped she wasn't thinking the same thing. He looked around. There was no place for her to be safe. She was too close. She was going to die. He was going to kill her! His body, which he didn't even know anything about, which he hated, which he couldn't even control, he was going to kill Meryl!
It was getting too hard to hold back the flow any longer. He was going to lose it at any second. He made a split-second decision that he hoped would work. He let go of his angel arm and pointed it at the sky. At the same time, he scooped Meryl up and held her against his body. He was desperate to save her. He never got hurt...maybe she would be safer close to him. Her eyes were open, looking straight into his, silently questioning him. What's going on? What are you? Am I going to die?
You're going to save me...right?
Oh god, Meryl, he thought as he looked at her, you trust me too much.
A/N: Hey people are reading this! And the awesome reviews I got just make me want to write more! Hopefully this chapter is up to snuff as well. Thanks Redcliff, Aine, Igbogal, and Angelstryke!
Wow...reviews DO make me write faster :)