Chapter Eleven: Morning After, Pt.2
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Meryl stood in the bathroom, struggling to brush the dust off her clothes and smooth out the wrinkles. She gave her blouse a final shake, holding it up to the ceiling light. Grimacing, she made a mental note that white clothing, while cool and flattering, didn't hold up well to extended desert travel. She sighed in resignation, and then hurriedly began dressing so as to exit the unpleasant smelling area as soon as possible.
Pulling black tights up over her legs, Meryl's thoughts drifted to Vash. Did he almost just say what she thought he was going to say? Her heart fluttered for what felt like the hundredth time that morning.
If it really was… would he say it again? And, more importantly, if he did… what would she say?
Unexpectedly, a twinge of doubt entered her mind.
Yes, what would I – no, make that should – I say?
Meryl suddenly wondered if this wasn't all a bit too hasty. It wasn't even twenty-four hours previously that she had been struggling with making her feelings known to Vash – and now this? Vash hadn't even said so much as an "I love you." They'd never even been on a date. Actually, there were a lot of things he'd never done to her….
Meryl thought back over her strange relationship with Vash. For most of their acquaintance, Vash hadn't been completely open or honest with her. True, he had his reasons, but… hadn't she and Milly repeatedly proved their trustworthiness early on? And regardless hadn't he always ditched them time and again? During the interminable period following the disastrous Fifth Moon incident, when she'd spent countless hours wondering if he was dead or alive, had he ever once tried to make contact? Even after they were all reunited, it was disconcerting how little had changed – if anything, Vash was more deliberately elusive than ever. It took a tragedy before he finally told them anything about his past, and that because Meryl had finally demanded answers. And then… oh, what a disaster had followed.
He had only started calling Meryl by her first name just a month ago, right after he returned from his gunfight with Knives, and that was because she had bopped him on the head for calling her "Insurance Girl." Rarely sharing anything deeply personal, shutting himself off whenever he was upset, staring at her across a table in a smoke filled room… In many silent, subtle ways, Vash still kept her at a distance. How did he really feel about her?
Yes, Vash had come back after his fight – but then, he couldn't very well take off into the wastelands with the condition Knives had been in. And their town was about the only one left in that region not in total disarray. It was not specifically her that Vash had returned for. It was to take care of Knives – and knowing this Meryl had done what she could to put Vash's mind at ease. He was so worried, especially when Knives took his turn for the worse, and although Vash had seemed grateful, he never said very much directly to her about it. They had never gone back to sit on the cliff before they had to leave, and later aboard the SEEDS ship they had been under constant stress with the suspicious people and Jessica that there was little time for private moments.
But this morning, hadn't he been telling her "thank you?" And last night – Vash had said he wanted a relationship with her, right?
Right after he asked her what she wanted, a little voice whispered. Right after she came blubbering to him like a fool. What kind of man would he have to be to turn her away flat? She knew from experience that Vash could be too nice, give in too easily… more so when he was feeling guilty or sorry for someone.
Her fingers fumbled over the buttons of her blouse.
Not to mention completely irresponsible. It was so like Vash – too impulsive for his own good, never thinking anything through. She was still an employee of Bernardelli, albeit somewhat AWOL these past few months. At the very least she and Milly were due for a performance review; she could be recalled at any time. And then there would be the conflict of interest issue, should she join with the man responsible for an astronomical amount of the planet's property damage. And on top of that what would they do for a living, should they actually get married? Vash wasn't exactly a working man. She would be the breadwinner, and ….
Meryl yanked on a boot, growing angrier by the minute.
And what would Vash do? Gad about all day while she was stuck doing all the work? Freeload and snort donuts and not expend an ounce of energy on planning for the future? How in the world were they to manage a coherent Knives? And what about the welfare of their children?!?
Meryl paused in the middle of lacing up a boot, feeling both foolish and vexed at having that particular thought pop into her head. She was getting too far ahead of herself. And yet….
And yet…
Is that was this is all about? Was it all only because Vash thought she might be pregnant?
A nauseous wave set Meryl's head spinning, and she stumbled hard against the wall, before finally sinking down on the ledge of the bathtub. She blinked hard, watching the tiles swim formlessly before her eyes, waiting for it to pass.
"Meryl, are you all right?" Vash's voice broke through the haze. "I heard a bang."
Her head shot up, mouth pressed into a sad, angry frown. She would have it out with him right now. Unmindful of the half-laced boot, Meryl reached for the door and yanked it open.
"Vash, I – !"
She paused. Vash was standing before her half-dressed, hair in total disarray, regarding her with a slight crease on his brow. It was so hard to think rationally when he was looking at her like that.
"… It's nothing – I'll see you downstairs."
Meryl averted her gaze and scurried out the door, avoiding the confused expression on Vash's face.
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"Aaaah, Ma'am, isn't it such a beautiful morning?" said Milly, far too brightly. Before her was arranged a steaming platter of sausage, eggs and bacon; a basket of fresh baked bread and pastries; a bowl of fruit; a cup of yogurt; a tray of mixed spreads; and a small pitcher of syrup, which Milly was generously pouring over a short stack of pancakes.
Meryl watched irritably from across the table.
"Honestly, Milly – aren't you even the tiniest bit sick?"
"Well, yeah, I was a little queasy again when I woke up this morning." Milly reached for the butter. "But I feel just fine now."
Meryl watched nauseously as Milly cut a heaping slab and slathered it all over a roll. She frowned suspiciously.
"Did you take anything? Any tea?"
"Yah, I ahready had thum dis m'ning." Milly swallowed. "Right after I got up. Settled me right down. There's plenty more left – why don't you have some?"
"I just don't get it…," grumbled Meryl, who readily snatched the pouch and began to dump spoonfuls into her mug. As she stirred Vash came ambling in. He took one glance at Milly's breakfast, grimaced briefly (proof positive of serious illness to Meryl's mind) and slid into a chair. She pushed the mug towards him.
How in the world could she and Vash still be so ill? None of them had hardly anything solid to eat the previous day. She was sure the medicinal tea that Dolores had given them would work… for a brief while she thought it had last night…. And yet here they were the next day, sick as ever.
She looked suspiciously at Dolores's medicinal pouch, suddenly remembering the waitress' words.
Anyway, if I recall she used to treat people years ago. Or poison them.
An unpleasant thought shot through her.
Impossible, Meryl chided herself. They had been feeling sick since before coming into contact with Dolores. Shrugging off her suspicion, Meryl lifted the mug to her lips and sipped. Too bad it's not real Tea Tonic, she mussed. And then her eyes snapped wide open.
Suddenly it tasted noticeably bitter.
I don't believe it.
Unpleasant ideas flitted through Meryl's mind. She recalled the details of a mass poisoning case a fellow Bernardelli agent had once investigated, about a sad, bizarre plot undertaken by a disturbed homemaker to disguise killing her husband. But Dolores just didn't strike her as someone who would do such a thing: she'd been gruff, but hadn't she also been helpful? She had liked Dolores, and wasn't she a good judge of character? After all, hadn't she known Vash was completely full of it from the first moment they'd met…?
Oh, yes, you're an excellent judge of character, Stryfe.
But that of itself meant nothing. What motive was there? Hadn't the criminal housewife ultimately been trying to collect on a life insurance policy? So what exactly would Dolores have to gain by poisoning them? Or maybe it wasn't specifically her group….
So they're still calling me a witch, is that it?
"No… no… It's only in my imagination," Meryl whispered softly as she set her mug down, accidentally sloshing tea onto the table. She suddenly realized that her hand was trembling.
"Meryl? What is it?"
She looked up to see both Milly and Vash staring at her concernedly. Meryl hesitated, briefly recalling the visage of the surly midwife. And then she leaned forward to talk to them quietly.
"Guys, lis- ."
"YOU LIAR! WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE ISN'T ANY MORE?"
The dining room fell quiet as everyone turned towards source of the shouting: a man was leaning over the counter, grabbing a waiter by the collar. His face was a sickly yellow, though quickly purpling from rage. Meryl placed him from the crowd of people waiting to see Doctor Wilde.
"You told me yesterday that you'd have more in TODAY – why ELSE do you think I'd still be stuck waiting around in this STINKING backwardhick town?!"
"Sir, please, it's not our fault! The shipment never came in this morning!"
"So when WILL it come in?"
"It won't," a new voice broke in.
Another man was standing in the doorway, looking agitatedly around the room. There were murmurs among the clientele. "What do you mean by that, Clyde?" called out someone.
"I mean last night someone broke into the bottling factory and destroyed the entire shipment! There isn't going to be any more Wilde's Tonic for at least another week!"
This provoked a mix of shocked and furious outcries among the diners, and the room quickly erupted into a cacophony of arguments. Meryl glanced worriedly at the medicinal pouch now clutched in her hand, trying to gather her troubled thoughts when loud thump distracted her.
"Won't somebody please wake me up from this nightmare?" moaned Vash from where he had fallen against the table.
"Yeah, I've had to pinch myself a few times already. It's been getting harder and harder to tell what's real and what's make-believe these past few days," mussed Milly. "Especially when the hallucinations are so realistic that you're convinced it's really happening. But there's a trick on how to tell the difference, Mr. Vash, all you have to do is –."
"Milly, what the HELL are you talking about?!" interjected Meryl, when another interruption came.
A small man burst into the dining room, looking excited in spite of his sickly disposition. His watery eyes fairly shone through a veil of perspiration.
"Everyone – they just caught the culprit! They're bringing her outside the sheriff's office right now!"
"Who is it, Ellis?" demanded an angry man.
"It's that crazy midwife – the one who lives out in the canyon. Old Dolores Hawthorne."
For a moment, the room fell still in shocked silence. It was soon pierced by a shrieking woman's voice, which Meryl immediately recognized to be Mildred's.
"I just knew it! I knew it!!! Didn't I tell you, Harold? Didn't I always tell you that she was no good?!"
"Aye, woman, that you did," agreed Harold, who had suddenly lost his phlegmatic disposition. His eyes flashed with a hard flintiness – an expression shared by many others around them, Meryl noticed, horrified at how rapidly the atmosphere had taken an ugly turn. Fists clenched, Harold stood up and gesticulated to the room.
"Well, folks, what say you? Shall we go pay that Angel of Death one last visit?"
There was a roar of approval and a mass of people surged around him, quickly forming into an angry shouting mob as they poured out of the dining room into the street. A chant sprang up among the departing crowd.
"C'MON – LET'S GO BURN THE WITCH!"
"BURN THE WITCH!"
"BURN THE WITCH!!!"
"Oh, no!" Meryl quickly turned back to face the others. "Quick, we have to – ."
But Vash was already out the window.
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