Meryl had never been late before, so when she was, Vash couldn't help but get a little nervous. His doctor was punctual, never canceling an appointment or making excuses to not see him.

"Maybe she got pulled over?" Wolfwood suggested while absently flipping through his small, black, leather bound Bible. It was almost nine thirty, the usual time in which the priest decided to meditate on the Word. "She seems like the type to speed. Or," he continued, sitting up a bit on his cot. "She could have been involved in a wreck!"

The thought settled heavy on the convict's mind. The priest could have very well been right. If that was the case, Vash had no way of getting to her to see if she was alright. What if she was in the hospital? What if she had been mugged? What if-?

Did he care that much?

He did. He cared for all human's well being. He wished nor misfortune on anyone.

Why did he care?

That question left him paralyzed and speechless. He didn't have an answer.

Vash ran hand through his hair, not comforted by his friend's words. He didn't know anything about how well Meryl drove, but he didn't see her as the speeding type. Still, he didn't want to think about her being in a wreck.

He needed to move.

Standing, he began to pace the small floor of his cell, until Wolfwood spoke again.

"I'm sure she's fine, Vash. That woman is too stubborn to let anything happen to her."

Vash had to smirk. That was true. Meryl was many things, including strong willed. At times, she could be hard-headed too and as stubborn as a mule. While those characteristics sounded anything but charming, Vash found them to be.

"Hey, Stampede, your doctor is here."

Vash stopped, relief visible on his face as he was instructed to move to the far wall of his cell. She was here. Maybe it was something minor like car trouble. Maybe she couldn't find her keys.

"Hands against the wall." Vash didn't recognize this officer. Maybe he was new? Must have been. All of the other security officers new Vash well enough to just ask him to turn around for them to cuff him. Vash shrugged and did as asked.

The officer closed in on him, roughly grabbing his hands and clamping on the cuffs.

"Hey, is that hostility necessary," He whined, but the officer only snorted in reply.

"Alright, you're set. March, Typhoon."

Vash began his march, nodding to Wolfwood, who gave a mock salute as he departed. He really shouldn't have gotten so worked up. Wolfwood normally had a good sense about things, so he should probably trust the guy more.

"How long has she been here?" Vash asked, not bothering to look at the man who was currently escorting him to his session with his doctor.

"You can ask her when you see her," Came the stiff reply.

Asshole.

The rest of the walk was boring and Vash didn't expect the man to say anything else, so he occupied his time with guessing what color shirt Meryl was wearing. He pictured her in many colors, green being his favorite, he chose to keep her in that. Normally, Meryl would dress in a black skirt and white blouse, but on occasion, she would turn up in jeans.

He liked that look better.

They stopped at the familiar white door and Vash inhaled deeply, not surprised to find her perfume still in the air. The light fragrance of jasmine wrapped around him, drugging his senses. It was still strong.

This was confirmation that she had just recently arrived.

The door was opened and Vash stepped through, eager to see her. To his delight, she was dressed casual today, wearing dark denim jeans that hugged her hips and legs in all the right places. Her shirts was a simple black shirt that matched the paint on her nails. Black pumps peeked out from under the bell of her jeans and he smirked.

Perfect.

"Meryl," he began, his eyes sweeping up her body once more. He did notice the blush that stained her cheeks. "Meryl, you're late."

For a moment she seemed to be in her own little world, before something clicked and she rolled her eyes. Her hands, which had been clasped in front of her, went to be firmly planted on her shapely hips.

Her lips set in a thin line as she eyed him down.

"Is that the greeting I get? I'll have you know you're the reason I'm late," She informed him with a nod.

He watched as she went to sit down at the chair behind the table, crossing her legs.

"Oh? How did I make you late?" He did love it when she blamed things on him. He found it cute because her reasoning never seemed to make logical sense.

She huffed, her eyes following him as he made to sit down across from her. He watched as she tried to sort out her story in her head; trying to relate how he had made her late to their session. She decided words could wait and pushed the little white bag(which he hadn't noticed until now) in his direction.

He lifted a brow at her before lifting his hands, showing her his cuffs. She sighed and got up from her spot , coming to his side of the table.

"I told them to remove these when I'm here." Her words weren't meant for him to hear, but lots of things Meryl said weren't meant for him to hear. Still he found it nice that she shared his irritation for the chains.

"You know they'd never allow that, Meryl," he whispered as she reached for the bag. She paused, her fingers curling around the paper as she let his words sink in.

"They shouldn't chain you like that. It's not right. I can talk to the director or—"

"What's in the bag? I don't see how you being late is my fault."

She sighed. He always did that when they were talking about something he didn't want to hear. She would allow it this time.

"Donuts," she answered.

He sat up a bit straighter, his eyes lighting with a smile.

"Really? For me?"

She nodded, pulling one out.

"I can't eat them on my own. The chains won't allow me to reach that high." His mouth twisted with irritation, but it quickly returned to a smile. "Meryl, feed me."

Meryl faltered, completely caught off guard by his forward request. Her breathing seemed to catch in her throat and she couldn't seem to remember how to exhale. Her face heated, a delicate pink hue staining her cheeks as her mind raced to think of an answer. He couldn't be serious. It was completely unprofessional for her to feed a patient.

Vash seemed unaware of her flustered state and simply smiled gently at her from across the table. He

rapped his fingers against the table rhythmically as he waited for her reply.

"Please, Meryl? I'm hungry." His lips puckered into a pout and Meryl sighed, not sure if she could deny him his wants. "Please?" He asked again, sounding more pathetic than the last time.

Meryl sighed and pushed up from her chair to move around the table over to his side. It was aggravating how he manipulated her like that, but she supposed it couldn't be helped. She shook her head at him, a slow smile curving her lips as she reached inside the doggy bag for his treat.

"Alright, but we get down to business after this, okay?"

He nodded, his eyes following the movement of her hand as it left the bag and presented a powder doughnut. Meryl broke off a piece and held it in front of his mouth, sprinkles of powder marrying the front of her blouse.

"Okay, open up."

Vash did as requested, opening his mouth as he allowed Meryl to feed him the sugar coated cake. Meryl held her breath as his lips closed around her fingers, drawing them inside the heat of his mouth. She shuddered, pulling them quickly away.

"Good?" She asked, a bit shakily. He nodded, smiling happily as he swallowed and then asked for more. She broke off another piece and again lifted it to his lips.

"How's Wolfwood?" she asked, trying to take her mind off what she was doing. This was insane. She shouldn't be doing something so…intimate with him.

He shot her a bewildered look.

"Um…fine, I guess. Why?"

She shrugged, presenting him another piece, which he again took without realizing his affect. She could hit him for being so dense.

"Just because."

He lifted a brow, not convinced.

"You don't like him though." Meryl rolled her eyes and gave him his last piece, but he caught her elbow before she could remove her hand. "You hate small talk, Meryl," he reminded.

Eyes glued to his, she watched as he finished the piece in his mouth before licking the powder off the tips of her fingers. Meryl inhaled sharply, as his sinful tongue removed the last of the sugar.

This had to stop. Right now.

It wasn't that she didn't want this attention from him…it was that she couldn't have it. Not as his doctor.

"How did you sleep last night? Nightmares again?"

He froze, his eyes lowering from hers until they met the floor.

Yeah, that was a way to ruin the mood. Nice one, Meryl. But it was her intention yes? Then why did she feel so…guilty for mentioning it?

He released her hand and Meryl brought it close to her as she watched him struggle for words.

"I'm not…hungry anymore. Thank you , Meryl."His tone, which had been so warm before, was now cold, distant.

She wanted to apologize, but this was her purpose here, yes? To counsel him…to heal him.

Standing, she moved around to the other side of the table, settling back in. She picked up her pen and started to write.

"Was it one dream?" She knew he hated to talk about his dreams, but he needed too. It was good for him.

"Yes, just one." Came his stoic reply, while his head fell back to rest against the chair.

Meryl nodded, continuing to make notes.

"What were the colors like."

His hands gripped his pants, his knuckles turning white as he answered behind clenched teeth, "Red. Blood red."

She paused in her writing, but tried not to make it noticeable.

He noticed, but continued. "Lots of screaming. It was mostly shapes, sounds—"

"What kind of sounds?"

"Gun shots, broken glass."

"Do you recall any faces?"

For a long time he wouldn't look at her, just kept his eyes up at the ceiling.

"Vash?"

He swallowed, shutting his eyes.

"One face. Only one I remember clearly."

Meryl let her ink flow. "Who?"

Another pause.

He lifted his head, blue eyes full of anger, hate and remorse.

"My brother's face. Knives."

Meryl dropped her pen.