It was cold, but he didn't bother with the heavy coats by the door. He wanted to know everything just the way it was.
Knives hadn't been in a room like this in well over a century. He hadn't expected it to feel so…right. Was it the newly regained sense of freedom? Was it the nearly freezing temperature? Was it the concentration of plant energy in this place?
It couldn't be the never-ending rows of sleep capsules. And it certainly couldn't be their contents.
Could it?
Knives looked around through the fog of his own breath. What was he doing here? Was he testing himself? Did he still feel afraid? He sat down in between two capsules and breathed deeply. He saw expressionless faces shielded by hazy glass. He smiled ruefully. The best laid plans, and still there were survivors. He had to hand it to the humans: they did not give up easily.
What did he feel?
Nostalgia, sadness, loneliness, loss…and a strange tug in his chest. Ancient words echoed through his mind.
"We can work through a few little differences if we just talk to each other enough. We can come to understand each other." So much time had passed since Knives had said those words to his brother that it seemed like they'd been spoken in a former life.
Knives hadn't followed his own sage advice. He didn't talk to Rem. He didn't talk to Vash. He simply acted. Knives acted out of fear, and he killed. He forced others to kill.
He forced Vash to kill.
"There's no difference between people's hearts and ours." He'd really believed that when he said it.
Knives felt the cold seeping through his clothes. Was that still true? Why did he want it to be true? When he was little, he never imagined that things would turn out this way. Every day was new and exciting and fun. Every day held promise of the future…the future Rem wanted for Vash, for him.
Knives took that future away.
Vash was different from him. His brother could forgive. Vash could move on. If Knives was in his brother's position, there would be no way in hell he'd ever forgive the person who stole his mother away, stole that vision of the future.
Knives wanted that forgiveness so badly, but he knew he did not deserve it. He still held a grudge against the humans. He still hated them. Even the ones he'd hired he despised. They were a means to an end: getting his brother back.
Knives hung his head as he realized he would never feel any relief. He could not forgive the humans. He could not forgive himself.
He heard a noise behind him and he turned. The door opened. He heard voices.
"I told you he'd be in here," one of the voices declared.
"But we're gonna be in trouble!" the other voice whined.
"Don't be a chicken. The door was already unlocked, anyway."
"I'm NOT a chicken!"
A boy popped his head into the room. "Well, come on then!"
Two little kids made their way through the entrance…two human kids. They had on oversized coats. They were smiling and they were practically climbing over each other to get to him.
For the first time in days, Knives was terrified.
The bigger one shouted at him. "Vash! You're back!"
They were fast approaching. It was all Knives could do to sit still and keep his cool. These children were obviously products of a sub-par educational system. The fact that they couldn't even distinguish between his brother and him spoke volumes.
The little one reached him first. Knives had thought this one would be apprehensive about approaching him, but he was clearly mistaken. "Do you remember me, Vash? I'm Jimmy! I was four when we first met!" Jimmy held out one of his hands with his fingers and thumb extended. "Now I'm five!"
At least he can be trained, thought Knives.
The bigger one shook his shoulder. "Where the hell have you been, Vash! You didn't report for active duty. The captain is pretty pissed."
Knives was dumbfounded.
Jimmy's eyes went wide. "Umm mum mum!" He shouted warningly. He added in a whisper, "That's a bad word, Michael. I'm gonna tell Mom."
"Pissed is not a bad word, and if you tell Mom, you'll be sorry," Michael declared. The older boy considered Knives for a moment. "Where's your coat, Vash?"
Knives got angry. "I'm not--"
"Of course you're cold, Vash," Jimmy said. "You can have my jacket if you need it." He started to pull the oversized coat off of him.
His older brother stopped him. "Come on, Jimmy. He's a real man. He can handle the cold." Michael gave Knives a thorough look again. "Wait a minute. Vash…were you… Were you crying?" He turned around and laughed. "Oh, this is rich. Wait until I tell the guys."
Knives ground his teeth together. He had come here for some solitude and these kids were completely ruining it. He was trying to think! He was trying to have a breakthrough! And these little brats wouldn't leave him alone! "FOR THE LAST TIME, I AM NOT--" He was stopped when a warm little hand patted him on the shoulder.
Jimmy was looking at him. "It's okay, Vash. I cry sometimes." He leaned in and whispered loudly, "I even saw Michael cry a few days ago."
A "Did not!" barely registered in the back of Knives' mind. These kids really thought he was Vash…and they wanted to spend time with him. This was interesting. The loud scientific part of his brain wanted to see what a day in the life of The Stampede would be like. A much quieter, softer part of him didn't want to disappoint these kids. Standing there in those huge overcoats, the two of them reminded him of good times.
"Alright," Michael walked back, all bravado. "If you're feeling sad, I'll take you where real men go to feel sad."
Knives was a little baffled by this machismo mentality coming from what appeared, for all intents and purposes, to be a nine year old boy. "Oh…kay."
Michael started walking. Jimmy panicked and pushed off of Knives. "Come on. He'll leave us if we don't keep up." Jimmy turned toward his brother. "Wait for us, Mikey!"
"Don't call me that!" Michael shouted over his shoulder.
Knives stood up and followed. This was slightly bizarre. What kind of racket was Vash running? "So, um, guys, is it normal for your parents to let you hang out with strange older men?"
Michael cast a withering look at Knives. "Don't be a smartass. I'm a big kid. I don't need my parents to look out for me anymore." He turned around and kept walking. "But Dad said that if you hit on Mom ever again, he'll beat the shit out of you."
Jimmy began to protest his brother's language, but Knives didn't pay attention. What kind of racket was Vash running?
They got to the door and he waited for the kids to hang their coats up. The older boy hung his up quickly and turned to leave. The younger one scrambled to do the same. Knives felt the little one slip a hand in his and pull him along. The child didn't seem to notice the hand wasn't real. Maybe it was because Vash himself had a prosthetic.
All this was a little shocking to Knives. These kids trusted his brother. They trusted him because he looked like his brother. And while the older one was clearly preoccupied with distinguishing the boys from the men, perhaps to a pathological degree, Knives found himself struggling with the fact that this little one was really growing on him.
He let the little boy drag him down the corridor. They were traveling to a lower deck. He remembered this hall from when Milly took him to the shooting gallery. He didn't want to go back there, so he was very glad when the older one abruptly changed course and stopped in front of an open door. The closer he got, the more noise he heard. It sounded…like a bar.
And that damned kid was tapping his foot waiting for Knives to catch up. Why did Vash put up with this crap? From kids, especially?
Knives finally arrived at the door to see a large stubborn man with arms folded standing in front of the one entrance. Michael snorted derisively and nodded towards Knives. "Can you believe this jerk says we can't go in?"
Knives was thinking that that made sense because he was with minors…until the stubborn man opened his mouth. "I don't care what you and Jimmy do, wiseass." He suddenly jabbed a finger in Knives' direction. "I said he can't go in." The man stared hard at Knives and slowly folded his arms again.
Knives suddenly wanted to make this asshole wish he'd never been born, but Michael stuck himself in between Knives and the bouncer before any killing could occur. "Show some respect. You're talking to Vash the Stamp--"
"I know exactly who I'm talking to, you little shit." The surly man didn't budge. "He's the asshole who destroyed July, killed all those people. He should be strung up and shot, and then set on fire for good measure." The man snorted. "What kind of demon would do that kind of thing? I've got half a mind to call in the feds and collect that $$60,000,000,000 reward myself."
So this is what Vash had to put up with all the time. Knives wondered how Vash could ever allow himself to trust any human. They'd do just about anything for money. He suddenly noticed Michael was standing up as tall as he possibly could.
"First off, Vash did not destroy July! Anybody who knows him knows he wouldn't do something like that! Second, there is no more bounty on Vash! Get with the times old man. And third, if you called the feds, you'd be in just as much trouble as him." The bouncer actually looked nervous, which made Michael grin dangerously. "Yeah, don't think people on this ship don't know about your gambling ring. And don't ever think you're one of us, outsider. We just let you work here because you can smell your own kind." Michael stared the gorilla down. "So back off of Vash!" he shouted.
This Michael kid was suddenly beginning to grow on Knives as well.
The bouncer looked like he was trying to form some sort of defense when a woman popped her head through the door. She looked around and her eyes quickly settled on Knives. Her face brightened when she "recognized" him as Vash. "Hey sugar! Long time, no see." She bumped the bouncer out of the way with her shapely hips. "Lloyd, why don't you stop…patronizing the customers…" She turned back to Knives and smiled. "I was expecting you to come around sooner. Come on, sugar, don't worry about him." She walked back inside, fully expecting to be followed.
Knives didn't quite know what to do until Michael jabbed him in the side. "I think…she likes you." Michael snapped his fingers together as if the best idea in the world had just struck him at that exact moment. "You want me to get the captain to draw up a new strategy? That last one didn't work so well…"
Knives was officially confused at this point. "What?" He used his entire lung capacity to articulate that one word.
Michael's expression turned cynical. "Vash, you're hopeless." He turned and started walking away. "Come on, Jimmy, we've got to go home."
Jimmy started to panic. He let go of Knives' hand and started running after his big brother. He turned around and smiled at Knives. "Don't forget to come and play with us later, okay?"
Knives waved, still quite confused. When the kids turned the corner, Knives dropped his hand and walked past the dejected bouncer. The scene he walked into, however, made just about as much sense as the one he'd just exited.
All the people in the bar were looking directly at him and smiling. They were all hooting and hollering, calling Vash's name. Everybody seemed to be an old friend.
He allowed himself to be pulled into the room by two women as a third slipped a tie around his forehead. Completely baffled, he was led to the bar, where the bartender produced perhaps the largest beer stein he had ever seen in his life and declared all drinks on the house for the night.
No wonder Vash had a drinking problem.
Vash himself was sitting in the corner of another bar in the middle of New Oregon with a very moderately sized beer stein on the table in front of him. Normally, he loved bars. It didn't matter who you were. As long as there was alcohol, everyone was a friend.
But today, it just felt so…wrong. He was the outsider, looking in at everyone else's celebration. He didn't feel like he was a part of the festivities at all.
Maybe it was because he wasn't really drinking.
He didn't know why, but that drink he'd wanted so badly in the first place didn't make him feel any better, and a second seemed pointless. He settled back in his chair and watched the people around him. Everyone seemed so happy. They were all toasting a job well done.
Meryl was somewhere in that mass of humans. He'd even seen her with a mug of beer, which made him smile a little. Even short girls had to let loose every once in a while, right?
People were getting pretty blitzed. Vash could tell because he kept hearing the same stories over and over and over again. The story of the rescue mission continued to get more and more epic with every round of drinks. Vash overheard from a few jealous compatriots that the true hero wasn't even in the bar. He was in the hospital. Apparently the collars were standard-issue government restraints, and one of the passengers who was kidnapped happened to be an army engineer. He was familiar with the design and the mechanisms and completely pulled out two of his fingernails prying the metal panel off of the collar.
With the help of the boy Vash had rescued earlier, the guy disabled the collar, walked across the desert without any food or water, and informed the people of New Oregon where the slave compound was. A rescue team was quickly put together with Meryl in the lead. Vash supposed they figured that if she could find him, she could find anything.
That was probably not too far from the truth…
He wanted to talk to Meryl so badly. She was right across the room, too. But somehow, she seemed so far away. He kept his eyes on her, but any time she looked like she was turning even remotely in his direction, he averted his gaze.
Besides, he couldn't think of anything to say.
He sat alone for a few hours, hunched over the table, and tried to absorb some of the good will that was floating around the place. One of the working girls sitting at the bar was making eyes at him. He smiled, but quickly looked away. The crowd was beginning to thin out. The barkeeper had been kind enough to grant free room and board for the night to anybody associated to with the rescue, so that meant he had a nice bed to sleep in whenever he wanted to go upstairs. Meryl was still talking with people, though, and he felt strange leaving her with all these men, even if she could take care of herself.
He stared at the old worn table. Vash hadn't talked to Meryl all night. He didn't know what he was doing here. He didn't know what he was waiting for. He didn't know what he wanted. Whenever Vash got this feeling, he would generally just skip town. This time, however, it felt like he'd never be able to get away from this feeling no matter where he went.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the chair next to him move and he looked up just in time to see Meryl sitting down. "Hey," she said friendlily, her cheeks a little rosy. "Everything okay over here? You're awfully nondestructive for being around so much alcohol." She laughed a little as she looked around. She seemed pleasantly buzzed. "I mean, if you haven't noticed, everything is still standing."
Vash was a little shocked that he was so suddenly engaged in a conversation with Meryl, but he pulled it together and played along for her. "You're so cold, insurance girl." Vash looked past Meryl. "Why are you over here? The party seems to just be getting started."
She turned around and a disgusted expression graced her face. There were several men still drinking. "The party's over for me at least. I've got a bus to catch in the morning."
"A bus? Tomorrow morning?" He hadn't thought she would be leaving so quickly.
"Yeah…to December." Meryl turned back around. She seemed to be searching his eyes for something. She must have decided it wasn't there because she looked away and continued talking. "I have to show up since I don't officially have an assignment anymore or I could get fired."
He needed to say something or there was going to be silence and if there was silence, she might just leave. "I just thought…with the sandsteamer coming through town…"
"Jeez, Vash, The steamer is already here. It leaves at 8AM sharp." She looked him over. Even though he was going along with her jokes, Meryl couldn't shake the feeling that something was really bothering him. She tried teasing again to see if he'd lighten up. "Besides, I thought you knew me better," she said sarcastically. "Defeating thugs who want to hijack steamers might sound like a good time to you, but it does not appeal to me in the least."
Vash smiled a little as he ran his hand through his hair. "I guess I sort of forgot about that."
Meryl rested her chin in her hand and regarded him for a long moment.
She suddenly sat straight up. "Well," she said while looking around and bracing herself to stand, "I guess I should go get ready for bed."
Vash straightened up as well and tried his hardest to conceal his anxiety. "Already? I mean…so soon?"
Meryl laughed. "Vash, in a few minutes, it'll be tomorrow."
He looked at her, trying to think of something to say to stall her, not really knowing why he wanted the extra time.
The look in her eyes suddenly changed as she spoke up instead. "At least this time," she started cautiously, quietly, honestly, "you can say goodbye."
"Meryl." That was all he could manage to say to her. The guilt he had been feeling up to this point was nothing compared to the guilt he was actually feeling now. He reached out a hand towards her, but suddenly lost confidence and changed course. Instead, he rubbed his tired eyes. "I…I…" Who was he to touch her, to tell her not to go? Was that what he wanted? Did he want her to stay?
Meryl suddenly felt bad for catching him off guard. Vash hated himself for everything. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out he'd be broken up about this, too. She had the sudden urge to talk...anything to get out of this situation. "It's really getting late, forget I said anything," she replied quickly with a nervous smile on her face. She twittered on. "I mean, this is why I don't drink! I say crazy things." The smile worked itself slowly off her face. She suddenly looked him in the eyes. She was clearly debating whether or not she could use her slightly inebriated state as an excuse for the next thing she blurted out. "How about we meet up for breakfast tomorrow? I mean, my bus doesn't leave until 11."
He recognized a life preserver when he one got chunked in his general direction. "Yeah, yeah…that sounds good."
She gave him a hard look. "Promise not to leave before then?"
Vash shook his head up and down emphatically. "Then, this is…goodnight?"
"Yeah," she said quietly as she finally stood up. "Goodnight, Vash. I'll see you in the morning."
Vash watched as she turned and walked up the stairs. Then he slumped back in his chair. There was no denying it now. He was an ass. She knew he was an ass. He knew she knew he was an ass. And Vash felt even worse because he really was considering leaving town before tomorrow morning.
What the hell was wrong with him?
Vash leaned back and stared at the ceiling for…he didn't know how long. Finally, the sound of a half full bottle of alcohol hitting the tabletop caught his attention and he looked up. The girl from the bar was standing in front of him with whiskey and two empty shot glasses.
"Want some company, handsome?" She didn't wait for his reply. She sashayed around the chair Meryl had been sitting in and pulled it close to him. She arranged her lace and satin dress before she sat down. She arranged the shot glasses in front of her and poured two drinks. "Here you go. You look like you need it."
He didn't feel like he needed it, but he didn't know what he needed at the moment, so he picked the glass up and knocked it back. The girl did the same. When she slammed the shot glass on the table, she leaned forward, further violating his personal space.
She was too close.
"What's your name?" he asked dryly.
"Whatever you want it to be." She smiled coyly.
Vash rubbed his forehead. He didn't want to play games with a stranger. "I want it to be the one your parents decided you should have when you were born."
She cocked an eyebrow. "Um…Susan." This guy wasn't her normal type of customer.
He kept rubbing his forehead. "Hi Susan. It's nice to meet you." He let his hand fall onto the table. "My name is--"
"Vash, right?" she supplied with unbridled enthusiasm. When she noticed he had his eyebrow arched nearly to his hairline, she smiled. "The girl from before, that's what she called you."
Vash relaxed. The absolute last thing he needed was to have some sort of Stampede hysteria on his hands.
The girl was still sitting there. She was looking at him, waiting for him to say something. He didn't. She got restless. Most men did not treat her this way. "So, what did a nice guy like you have to do to get a nickname like that, killer?" she joked.
Vash controlled his dismay by clenching his jaw. "Why did you come over here?" he asked without venom. "Did you think you'd spotted a guy who looked tired, lonely, and easily parted from his money?"
She was a little taken aback by his frankness, but she recovered remarkably quickly. "Well, two out of three ain't bad," she laughed, "but at the rate you've been drinking tonight, you look hard up."
He looked her straight in the eye. "Then why are you over here?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "Look around: I'm compliments of the mayor."
Vash did look around and saw all the men who hadn't passed out were paired with their very own lady for the evening.
He gave her a hard look. "How old are you."
She smiled. She was glad he'd asked. "I'm almost seventeen," she said proudly. That was one of her best selling points, after all.
Vash laughed a sad laugh. "It's a school night. You should be in bed." He didn't look at her as he stood, picked up his bag, and began to walk away. "Thanks for the nightcap. Maybe it'll help me sleep."
She was flustered, but happy to be rid of that guy. She didn't even want to do this in the first place! She took the bottle and was about to walk back to the bar when a man caught her in his dark gaze. She walked quickly over to him.
"Did you get anything?" the man spoke in gruff, hushed tones.
"No, he was being evasive. He's a creep anyway. I don't think he's the guy." She tried to walk away, but he caught her arm.
"Listen, missy. You're not here to think. You're getting paid good money for a positive ID." He pulled her close despite her struggles and spoke to her alone. "I know you spent a lot of time tracking down your little sister. You want to wait until the price on her head goes up again?" He had her attention. She shook her head vigorously. "I didn't think so. Now go do your job." He pushed her roughly towards the stairs. She glared at him for a moment before gathering herself up and following in the direction Vash had gone.
He turned around and faced the bar one more time. His badge reflected in the light. He leaned towards the bartender. "You sure about this one, Frank? And is your girl up to it?"
He nodded. "Of course, Marshal. I heard that Meryl woman call him Vash several times today. I've never seen him around town, either. He showed up out of nowhere." He chuckled a little. "And don't worry about little Suzie. She'll get you what you need."
The federal marshal looked satisfied with the man's statement. He stood up and fished out his wallet, but the bartender waved his hand. "Don't worry, it's on the house."
The man smiled and pocketed his wallet. "Thanks, Frank. Let me know if your girl finds out anything." He waved and left the bar.
The tea kettle was on the small range.
The paper was on the table.
The pen was in her hand.
Even in a little hotel in the middle of nowhere, it was possible to maintain a little bit of order. The order made her feel better: more centered. She needed it after what she'd been through today. If she never saw another slaver compound again, it would be too soon. And she must have personally shot five people today. When she was a little kid, she never thought it would be normal for her to have to use that kind of deadly force on a daily basis. Her father knew it was a possibility, though, and made sure his little girl knew her way around a gun.
How frightening it must have been for him to trust a child with a firearm because he feared for her life.
Order helped her keep these kinds of thoughts at bay. If she'd had her typewriter, she might feel a little better, but it was hard to ask for more: a clean bed, a private bath, a small kitchenette. She'd stayed in far more primitive places…when she was following him…
Seeing Vash today was unexpected to say the least, but she was sad to see that his behavior towards her really hadn't changed. The last time she'd seen him, he didn't pay any attention to her. She just didn't have it in her to give and give without any potential for ever getting anything back from him. And she couldn't even derive some sense of satisfaction from being angry at him, what with that kicked-puppy look he had all night.
Even though it hurt, she knew now that going back to December was for the best. She could get her life back together there. That whole imprinting thing was a little worrisome... Vash had seemed devastated. Then again, the man was prone to hyperbolic reactions and Doc didn't seem to think it was such a bad thing.
If anything, it made her want to investigate her long-term investment options.
Meryl's buzz had worn off a while ago and she realized she wasn't quite ready for bed. Something still seemed unfinished. She'd decided to write Milly a letter. Meryl had jotted something down, but it sounded so cold when she read it out loud. Of course, Milly would be impressed by the effort alone, but Meryl wanted to send something that sounded a little more, well, friendly.
She was just about to restart her letter on a fresh page when she heard a scream...a high-pitched scream…a Vash scream…
She almost jumped out of her chair before she stopped herself. It wasn't her job to look out for him anymore.
Still…she was curious.
She quickly walked to the door and accidentally bumped into her suitcase, almost knocking it off of the nearby loveseat it was sitting on. She checked to make sure she had her room key, then opened the door and walked out of her room cautiously. She heard voices coming from around the corner. Silently, she crept along the wall.
Despite all her attempts to logically assess the situation, the sight in front of her simply made her want to die. Vash was pushed up against the wall and an absurdly young girl with a painted face and a pretty dress was leaning up against him. She was touching his neck, touching his face. She put her hand around his left bicep and squeezed.
"Oh!" she exclaimed innocently. "You've got a body of steel, don't you, Vash?" This girl…Meryl wanted to kill her.
"More like shrapnel," Meryl heard Vash say under his breath. He was looking straight forward, his whole body tense, ready to bolt, and Meryl suddenly realized how uncomfortable he was with what was going on.
That made her feel a little better, but didn't help to explain the situation at all.
The girl was making fun of him. "You're blushing!" she teased. "That's so cute." She looked him over with a predatory glint in her eye. "This isn't…your first time, is it?"
At that, Vash finally peeled her off of him by grabbing her shoulders and forcing her to stand at arm's length. "Please. I thought I made myself clear downstairs that I wasn't in the market for your services."
The girl suddenly changed tactics. She looked down and her voice was low. "It's a woman, isn't it? Who broke your heart? She…doesn't want you, does she?" she asked slowly, testing. The girl didn't see Vash's expression change, but Meryl did. Vash closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "She…doesn't…need you."
Vash dropped his arms to his side. "Please stop." He was practically begging.
The prostitute looked up at him and touched his face, rubbed his cheek softly with her thumb. "I need you." Vash kept his eyes closed and his face up, but he didn't move to brush her off of him.
Meryl was a) disgusted that Vash was allowing a child to manipulate him like this and b) quite impressed. Meryl gave credit where credit was due, and this girl knew more about the art of seduction than she ever would. Meryl's mind, however, refused to delve any deeper into the meaning of the conversation she'd just witnessed.
Susan used her unoccupied hand to unzip the front of Vash's jacket and slowly trailed her fingers from his neck down to his chest. So she'd been wrong. She'd seen his type all over the place: the hopelessly in love. They were easy sales. There was no way in hell this guy was involved with The Stampede.
So he felt like he had a prosthetic arm. So what? He was still too soft, too sensitive to be involved with a murderer of that caliber.
Susan knew she couldn't go too fast. Guys like him needed to be coaxed. As long as she controlled the situation, though, he'd be eating out of her hand. She especially liked providing her particular services to this type of man: they often turned into repeat customers and they were eager to please.
It made her job easier.
The standard procedure with this type was to establish some semblance of intimacy, usually in conjunction with any number of hokey romantic phrases that boys routinely threw at girls. She had been shocked initially when she realized they worked equally as well on hopeless males.
Her plan was to place her hand on his chest, over his heart, and say something corny about his heartbeat. The plan was simple enough. When Susan began to implement the strategy, however, something she wasn't expecting happened: her finger got caught in his chest.
Her finger…got caught…in his chest.
WHY WAS THERE A HOLE IN HIS CHEST?!?!
Susan tried to keep her cool, but the only way she could get her finger out was to wiggle it and yank her hand back. He hadn't been kidding: this guy really was made of shrapnel! He didn't exactly match the description the marshal gave her, but he was sure close. He was tall and thin with longish hair. He probably was covered in scars. She slowly began to panic.
This could be the guy.
What had she gotten herself into? She took a step back, towards the door. "I…think I'll go freshen up a bit." She didn't take her eyes off of him until she had gotten the door closed between them.
Vash stared at the ceiling until he heard the door click.
For his part, Vash had been expecting a reaction like this. The surest way for him to run somebody off was to let them get close.
It didn't do much for his self esteem, though.
Vash slid down the wall and settled on the ground. He held his head in his hands. He didn't know where he was going to sleep anymore, and he was so tired. He'd been driving and worrying and sitting and agonizing all day long.
Susan was in his room, and considering past experiences, he was pretty sure she did not want him to join her. The hall was too bright.
Maybe it would just be better for him to head back to the SEEDS ship tonight.
He sighed deeply. Was he really that easy to see through these days? If Susan ever went back to school, she'd definitely have a bright future in psychology.
A door slammed down the hall and he looked up. He wasn't expecting to see Meryl peeking out from around the corner. He froze. She stood there for a moment, then disappeared.
It was a good ten seconds before he grabbed his bag, found his feet again, and went after her.
He heard her door close before he rounded the corner and realized he didn't know which room she was in. He estimated from the sound how far down the hall she was.
Now he just had to knock on doors.
"Meryl?" he shouted desperately at the first door.
"Fuck off." It was a man's voice. Definitely not Meryl.
He moved to the next. "I just want to apologize."
"This room's occupied," a woman answered. Most likely not Meryl.
The third time was supposed to be the charm. "Please, just talk to me."
Silence.
"There's nothing to apologize for."
Bingo.
"I'm so sorry," he said, a little quieter now, but still loud enough to draw complaints from the other rooms. "Just let me talk to you."
Her reply was muffled through the door. "You did nothing wrong." A pause. "Even if you had slept with her, you wouldn't have been doing anything technically illegal, and it's not like you've got a wife or girlfriend to worry about anyway."
He was starting to feel helpless. People were sticking their heads out of their doors and he was on the receiving end of dirty looks and impolite hand gestures. "I really need to talk to you. I need to talk to you." His forehead knocked against the door with a quiet thunk. "Just…talk…" he finished weakly.
"It's really late, Vash." A pause. "I'm going to bed."
He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to imagine that the angry patrons around him weren't watching him as he made a fool of himself outside a girl's room. He waited for them to quiet down and go back inside their rooms, then he turned around and slid down Meryl's locked door.
She wouldn't even talk to him.
He sighed. "You knew it would happen," he whispered to himself. "They all run away eventually."
Unexpectedly, the door fell open and he was suddenly flat on his back, looking at a furious upside-down Meryl. "Get inside, you idiot." She turned around and stomped into the room, leaving him unwatched as he scrambled to his feet. He was a little shocked to be allowed inside, but he tried to act cool and shut the door behind him.
Her room was small, but it was packed with stuff, making it seem even smaller. There was a tiny couch which was currently occupied by the infamous pink suitcase, a bed, a bedside stand with a lamp, a table, a chair, and a small stove. Meryl was at the stove taking a whistling kettle off the heat.
Actually, now that he thought about it, the room was perfectly sized for Meryl.
"Would you like some tea?" she asked him, not unkindly.
"Tea? Yeah, actually, tea would be great." He moved around the room looking for a place to sit. "I haven't had tea in a long time, maybe since before we left that last town…" He snapped his fingers. "Look at me. I can't even remember the name." Vash knew he sounded nervous. He was nervous.
Vash thought about sitting in the chair at the table, but it looked like Meryl was involved in something, so he set his bag down, took off his jacket and tried to look as natural as possible as he sat down on the side of the bed. She finally turned around and approached him with a mug of steaming liquid. "It's very hot," she warned, apparently not furious any longer. The handoff was uneventful.
She got her own mug and sat down at the table, tucking a leg underneath her. She sat in silence waiting for him to speak, but he was acting oblivious. "So," she started, barely containing a growl, "you wanted to…talk?"
Vash nodded and set the mug down on the bedside stand. "Yeah."
Meryl waited for him to continue, but he didn't. "Well, what about?" she prodded.
He sighed and looked around the room. "A lot of things."
Vash did not expound upon what those things were, however.
It was the same old silence she heard every time they were alone. Meryl was getting tired of it. "Why are you in my room, Vash? Why are you not sleeping with that…girl?"
Vash was glad he'd set his tea down. Otherwise, he was sure he would have dropped it. He ran his hand through his hair. "Um…I can tell you…Are you sure you want to know?" he asked a little nervously.
Wait, did she want to know? "Of course I want to know! I asked, didn't I?" She didn't want to know, did she.
Vash leaned back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He got that look in his eyes that he had when he thought nobody was watching him. She was almost convinced he wasn't going to speak again when he did start talking. "There are…a lot of reasons, actually." He sighed. "First off, she was really young. I mean, younger than you even."
Meryl didn't know whether that should have been taken as a compliment or as an insult.
He continued. "I know I kid around about being a lecher, but I can't stand the thought of somebody that young having to sell her body to get by. She should be talking to friends about boys her age and deciding what she wants to be when she grows up, not hanging out in bars and getting drunk so she can have sex for money."
Meryl hummed thoughtfully. It was easy to see how that could make a guy have unsexy thoughts.
The words seemed to be coming to him more easily now. "And a lot of girls who work like that are doing it to buy back family members. The law is very fuzzy when it comes to human trafficking. Some cities outlaw it completely, other cities encourage it." He stopped for a moment. "And to think that a girl would have to sleep with a guy like me to make enough money for that…it just feels so wrong. I wish they'd just ask me for my help instead."
Wow…he did need to talk. "You can't save everybody," Meryl offered meekly.
"I know," he said, "but I should be able to help. Somehow." He sighed heavily. "And in a situation like tonight, where someone had already paid the girl…" he trailed off. "I mean, you've got this girl, and she's expecting to…entertain a guy for the night, and he gets his clothes off, and…he looks…like me." He lingered on that thought a moment. "I don't want to make anybody feel like they're obligated to… I mean, if a girl…saw me…and then she didn't want to…you know…it's just that….I really wouldn't blame her." He sighed again, gathering his thoughts. "It would be wrong of me to impose myself on someone like that, even if I were paying her for a service."
Meryl was very glad that he wasn't looking at her because she had tears in her eyes. "That's not the way it is."
Vash laughed sadly. "You don't have to say that. It used to be different when I was younger…when I didn't look like this… But you saw the girl tonight." Meryl couldn't deny that. "I didn't even have to see her. I could feel the look she was giving me." He got quiet for a moment. "She was terrified of me. And she was a professional. What would a normal girl do?"
Meryl was losing control of her voice. "I mean, that's not the way it has to be! I know there's someone who will--"
Vash laughed genuinely, but kept looking at the ceiling. There was no point in arguing when she was worked up like this. "Thanks for the vote of confidence." He thought a moment. "There's another reason, too."
Meryl was almost afraid to ask.
"It wouldn't be fair to you, really, if I'd slept with her."
"What?" she squeaked.
"Well, you saved a lot of people today…a lot more than I did, and it wouldn't make sense if they rewarded me over you, now would it?" Vash propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look at her. "I mean, you might like a night with a pretty lady, but I wouldn't assume that kind of thing about you…"
She was turned slightly away. "Don't be silly. They just gave me a cash reward."
"That's not fair! I want money!" he joked.
"Don't be so loud," she admonished.
He looked at her seriously. "Meryl," he started quietly, "about tonight: I--"
She stood up abruptly. "I've really got to take a shower."
He noticed she was looking anywhere but at him. He suddenly felt unanchored. "Oh. Well I--"
"You can stay here…as long as you want." She went to her suitcase and got some clothes out of it. "Really, I don't mind." She walked into the bathroom before he could respond.
Vash lay back on the bed, confused about what had just happened, but too tired to really give it any thought. He heard the shower start. It was a relaxing sound. He listened passively as his eyes grew heavy.
Meryl was very happy to be behind a door with a lock at this moment in time. All the victories over her lacrimal glands that she'd gained in the last few days were completely lost in the blink of an eye. She found herself sitting under the shower bawling so hard that her throat hurt.
She was trying her very hardest to keep quiet.
It was times like these when she really had to take a good long look at herself. She tried to be strong. She tried to set boundaries. She tried to live by logic, deferring to emotion only under special circumstances. Two days ago, she was convinced that if she ever saw Vash again, she would rip him a new one. Two days ago, she almost had herself believing that she wouldn't even think twice about walking out of his life completely.
But now…right now…she knew she'd only been kidding herself. She cared about him. She cared about him more than she'd like to admit to herself. And he was here, and he didn't have to be, and it was totally screwing her up. She thought she could handle him being here. She thought she could keep her cool and just get on the bus and get on with the rest of her life.
She'd been so proud of herself for the way she'd behaved today. She didn't fall all over him when she saw him. She didn't start crying. She didn't launch into his arms, tackle him with a hug, or otherwise embarrass the hell out of the both of them with some flagrant show of affection. She didn't even give him that much attention at the party earlier and she hadn't really felt bad about it, either.
But now, after what she saw tonight…and that conversation… It was too much. She couldn't just pretend like it hadn't happened. And now she was sobbing in the bathroom and for all she knew, Vash was in the other room going through her unmentionables.
She tried not to get excited about the prospect that he had come all this way to stop her from leaving, but it sort of made sense. And the possibility that this was the case significantly reduced her urge to beat the crap out of him.
But, then again, he didn't even seem to know why he was here. Was she just leading herself on?
And even if he did ask her to stay, what was she supposed to do? Put her life completely on hold because some guy who had every chance to have her suddenly decided that that sounded like a nice idea?
Meryl stopped herself. She wasn't really being fair, was she? Vash had it rough.
It had been almost unbearable to sit there and listen to Vash talk about himself that way. And what was worse, she knew people had treated him like that. She had seen the prostitute today. She had seen bits and piece of memories, girls looking like they couldn't get away fast enough.
He felt so lonely. What killed Meryl, though, was that he didn't seem to see anything wrong with that. He'd just accepted that this was normal treatment and that it would never change. She wanted to protect him from these feelings he had, but she didn't know how to do that.
She was leaving tomorrow, for crying out loud. What was she supposed to do? Was she supposed to stay with him? Would he let her? Could she actually get on that bus tomorrow morning and leave him?
She didn't know. She needed more time! She needed to talk to him.
God, this wasn't going to be pretty.
Meryl stood under the water until she'd calmed down a bit, then got out of the shower, toweled off, and got dressed. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was sticking up, her eyes were puffy, her old night shirt was…old. She looked like hell.
But at least she looked like clean hell.
She took a deep breath and unlocked the door. She walked out of the bathroom towards the bed. Vash was still lying there.
"Vash?" she asked quietly.
No response.
She inched a little closer and leaned over the bed. "Vash? Are you awake?"
Still no response. The guy was sleeping like a log.
She sighed, a little disappointed, a whole lot more relieved. He was laying the wrong way on the bed with his legs over the side. She pulled him gently by his shoulders with a quiet, "come on," for encouragement. He followed her tug and moved so that he was aligned more comfortably on the bed. One of his legs made it onto the mattress. She carefully lifted the other one. Meryl removed his gun from his belt and placed it on the bedside table. She didn't know if he'd want to wear it or not, but it didn't seem safe to her. She stood back and gave him a once over.
He still had his boots on.
She smiled as she remembered the first time she'd taken those things off by herself. Meryl had actually gone through the trouble of undoing every single strap. After Vash regained consciousness and returned to normal, she could see that he was not pleased, but he didn't say anything about it. He just showed her the two snaps that really mattered for boot removal.
That being said, it still wasn't easy to get the boots off. She still had to know exactly where to push and what to turn at the same time before they would release Vash's feet. Finally, she did succeed in her battle against the footwear and she placed the boots on the floor by his bag. She looked at his face to make sure he was still asleep before she massaged his feet gently. She would die if he caught her doing this, but she just…wanted to do something nice for him.
Meryl almost laughed at herself. Two days ago, being nice to Vash was the absolute last thing on her mind.
Her eyes cautiously flitted to his face as her hands worked. Through his socks, she could feel a huge scar on the top of his right foot. Every time she saw that scar, she wondered what kind of crazy acrobatics he'd been doing to get shot like that. And Meryl had always been a little envious about Vash's socks as well. They were perfect for travel: a very durable, wicking fabric. She wished her uniform was made out of something like that. She would have to ask Doc about them when she saw him again…
If she saw Doc again…
Meryl reminded herself sternly that it wasn't time to play house. It was time to go to sleep so she could catch a bus in the morning. Every bit of her was reluctant to move, but she still stood up. Carefully, she reached over Vash to get the comforter. She pulled it around him sort of like a sleeping bag. Meryl snagged the extra pillow and looked around the room for a place to sleep. She spotted the loveseat and moved her suitcase out of the way.
Meryl needed a blanket. She went to check the linen closet in the bathroom, but all she could find was an extra sheet. She sighed, grabbed it, and turned off the bathroom light. She clicked the lamp off next to Vash. Meryl stumbled over to her suitcase and grabbed a pair of leggings. She put them on and walked over to the loveseat where she folded the sheet in two and laid it on top of her. It was getting a little cold, but she snuggled into the pillow and tried to get some rest anyway.
Milly was a wreck. She'd been searching for Knives for hours. She'd looked everywhere.
Vash was going to kill her. Maybe not kill her, but he was definitely going to make her feel very, very bad.
He left her with one request. Just one request! "Will you be his guide and babysitter? I know you can do it."
It sounded so simple. She wasn't sure how to be a guide, persay, but she was pretty sure she had a good grip on the babysitter part. And now Knives was gone.
Oh, it made her nervous. No amount of window washing would fix this!
Milly informed Doc of what was going on and went back to the twins' room just in case Knives decided to show up. She knew it was late, but she couldn't even think about sleeping. That's what had gotten her in trouble in the first place!
The problem was that she didn't really know Knives. She didn't know where he would be most likely to go. She just had to wait until Doc or someone else found Knives, which was an uncomfortably passive role for her to take. It was necessary, though. Milly simply did not know her way around the ship as well as the residents did.
It was the middle of the night, but the chime on the intercom was music to her ears.
"Doc?"
"Hello, Milly. We found your ward."
"Oh you did! That's fantastic!" She was basically jumping for joy at this point.
"But I need someone to carry him."
Carrying? That didn't sound good. "Is he alright?"
Doc laughed. "Of course. He's just had a little too much to drink. Can you go down to the bar? It's part of the newer construction, a few decks down."
"Um…Sure! I'll be right there!" She disconnected the intercom.
Bars were full of people. That seemed like an odd place for Knives to be…
She made her way down to the bar as quickly as possible, jogging most of the way. She wanted to make sure everyone was alright. Knives seemed to be changing, but she would still feel terrible if he had hurt someone because she had dozed off.
She spotted the entrance and ran for it. She burst in and was simply shocked by what she saw.
Knives was crying, hugging the bartender, and telling him what a great guy he was. He was holding on to Vash's mug, which was odd, considering nobody got to drink out of that except for Vash.
Scratch that. Nobody could survive drinking out of that except for Vash.
This was just not normal. She gaped at the scene for a moment. The bartender finally caught her eye and mouthed to her: GET HIM OUTTA HERE.
She hopped into action. Milly went to the other side of Knives and tapped on his shoulder. "Hey there," she said, getting his attention.
Knives had the goofiest grin on his face. She almost started laughing. "Milly, I don't know if you've met Paul." He looked at the bartender. "Have you met Paul, Milly?" He looked back at Milly.
Milly was smiling. "No, I do not believe I've met him." She extended her hand. "Hi! I'm Milly!"
The bartender was about to crack. "Hi, I'm tired, and I've still got to mop the floor and restock inventory. Can you get this guy off me?"
Milly's face took on such an apologetic expression that the bartender instantly felt guilty. "Oh, right. I'm so sorry," she said. She turned back to Knives. "Come on, let's go." Milly pulled his arm around her shoulder and looped hers around his waist and pulled him up, lifting most of Knives' weight off of the bartender. "It was nice to meet you Paul. If he wants to come back down here, I'll be sure to accompany him."
Paul looked relieved. "That sounds like a good idea, miss. Goodnight, you two."
Knives seemed a little annoyed that he was suddenly responsible for moving his own legs, but it didn't really alter his current mood too much. "Milly, why didn't you ever tell me about these…bars…? They're great! Especially that Paul guy. He just keeps those beers coming."
Milly laughed. "I really didn't think you'd like to go out to a bar, but now that I know, I wouldn't mind going myself!"
Knives trudged along with Milly's help. "You know, I feel great. I think I might have made some rash decisions about your kind before, but right now, I'm feeling really good."
Uh oh. Milly needed to get some aspirin and coffee before Knives woke up in the morning. If his newfound love for humans really was correlated with the effects that alcohol had on his body, there was no hope for anyone in the morning.
Okay. She had tried to get to sleep for forty-five minutes, and giving up her warm, comfy bed so that a poor, lonely gunman could have a bit of respite was all well and good, but damn it! She needed to sleep, too.
It was freezing in this place. The jerks at the front desk must have turned the heat off at some point because Meryl didn't remember it being this cold earlier. She'd already put on two pairs of socks and folded the sheet she had into fours.
She absolutely refused to cuddle up next to Vash. Not only was it unprofessional, but if she accidentally woke him up, Vash would probably take off. And she didn't exactly know why she'd rather be cold than make Vash leave, but for some reason, that was the way it was and it was way too late tonight to question.
She couldn't use her mantle unless she removed all her derringers, and if she did that, it would be noisy and time consuming and she'd have to put all the guns back before she left tomorrow morning. She'd already snuck into the bathroom again just to make sure there weren't any more sheets, and the towels were just glorified washcloths.
She sat up and looked around the dark room. There was an unutilized jacket lying on the ground next to the bed. She would normally feel bad about using other peoples' stuff without asking, but Vash was in her bed, so she figured it was probably even. She snuck over quietly and picked up the jacket, knocking over one of Vash's boots in the process. It didn't make a very loud noise, but it sounded deafening to her.
She heard Vash make a quiet gasp and stayed absolutely still. She held her breath. Maybe he didn't wake up and he wouldn't think she was a stalker. Maybe he would just turn over and go back to—
"Meryl?" she heard Vash speak in a slow, gravelly voice.
Damn it. She turned around with a ridiculous smile on her face. "Hi there!"
Vash looked confused. "What…are you doing in my room?"
Her embarrassment was spontaneously converting to anger. "Your room!? This is my room!"
He propped himself up and she saw the instant when everything came back to him. He suddenly had the most contrite look on his face. "Why…" He rubbed his face. "…didn't you wake me up?"
By this time, Meryl's toe was tapping uncontrollably. "Believe me, I tried."
He sat up and swung his legs out of the bed. "I didn't mean to fall asleep." Why were his boots off? "I'm sorry. I'll get out of your hair."
He started to lean down to get his boots, but she stepped close to him, a sudden pang of compassion coursing through her. She put her hands on his shoulders just to make sure he didn't try to stand up. She spoke quietly. "I was mostly kidding. You should stay here." He looked at her and it made her nervous. "It's just that…I hate staying in these hotels by myself. Milly would always be with me. I don't really like traveling alone."
Vash sat so that they were at about eye level. He seemed to be weighing what she'd said. "Are you…still leaving tomorrow?" he asked in the same tired voice.
Alright. The compassion was starting to evaporate as well and sarcasm was waiting in the wings. She was cold, she was tired, she was irritated, and Vash was making it out like leaving was all her idea. "Well, it's not like anybody even asked me to stay, is it? Between you and Milly, I'm surprised you guys didn't buy my bus ticket for me. And Knives…" Meryl accidentally let out a growl.
He dropped his gaze. He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "Do you hate me? I mean, for everything that's happened?" He didn't look at her.
Meryl realized they obviously weren't on the same page. "Why in the world would I hate you?"
"I couldn't." He stopped. She felt his arms come around her loosely. She tried not to let her surprise show too much.
She waited a moment before she spoke up. "You couldn't…what?"
He sighed again. "I couldn't…keep you safe. I couldn't take care of Knives and keep you safe at the same time." He pulled her a little closer. "I think about it all the time. I think about what I could have done instead so that you wouldn't have been there when Knives woke up." He finally looked at her. "I know there had to have been a way…to keep you from getting caught up in it. But…I didn't know…and I was afraid that if I didn't pull you close when my arm…I was afraid you would…die. I promise I didn't know what it would do to you."
Meryl didn't know what to say. All she could do was try to counter his fears. "I…I…Doc checked me out and he says I'm healthy. You didn't hurt me, Vash. Just…stop thinking about it. And stop using what happened to me to feel bad about yourself. It makes me feel like a jerk."
He looked away again. "But your lifespan… You don't know what it's like. You don't know what kind of curse it is to be like this…"
Meryl sighed. This could go on all night. "Well, I'm not going to know that until I get there. And…and…I'm still mortal, after all. There are myriad ways I can still die, so--"
She suddenly found herself wrapped up in quite a fierce embrace. Vash's cheek was pressed against hers. "Don't." She could feel his shaky breath on her skin. She closed her eyes and listened to him. "Don't say that. Please."
"I didn't mean to…" she whispered, but didn't have time to finish the sentence.
"I was so worried about you," he blurted out. "Doc got a dispatch. It said the caravan had been attacked."
Damn it. She knew she should have written a letter or something.
Vash continued. "When I heard, I left immediately. But…you had everything under control…so I didn't…" He held her close to him. "You're safe. That's the most important thing."
Suddenly the way he was acting made some sort of sense. "I didn't mean to make you worry, but…I'm glad you're here."
"Really?" he asked weakly.
"Yeah." She finally relaxed against him. His arms loosened, but he still held her closely. She didn't know what all of this meant exactly, but it felt good.
They stayed like that for a long time.
Meryl was just about to consider going to sleep again when she felt Vash's arm slowly slide down her back.
She panicked. What did it mean?
She felt his hand venture slowly from back territory to butt territory.
"Vash?" she asked, nervous.
He stayed silent as his hand kept moving slowly…until finally, it fell off of her completely. It hung limply at his side. Vash didn't move it at all.
She suddenly realized he was asleep.
She almost laughed out loud. She knew for sure she was blushing. Gently, she arranged him back on the bed and under the blanket. She picked up his jacket and pulled it around her. She looked at him.
So he had come for her.
That was good to know. She lingered a moment more by the bed before going back to the couch and trying to get some sleep. She pulled her knees up under the jacket and covered herself with the blanket.
This might actually work.
She rolled over slightly and a mass in the jacket suddenly poked her. She fished around until she found the pocket that was containing the offensive matter and pulled out its contents. She stared dumbly at it for a few seconds before realizing what it was: Her missing handkerchief.
She thought back to the last time she'd given it to him. He'd kept it? It meant something to him?
She folded up the square of cloth, put it safely back in its place, and tried to get some sleep.
A/N: whew! that WAS a doozy! longest thing evar. THANKS TO MITAI for beta-ing and the encouragements! yay!
sorry this update took so long. i hope i still have some readers out there. read and review:)
NEXT CHAPTER...well, it's gonna be a doozy as well... STAY TUNED!