DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Few things mean more to me than to be regarded as a standup guy. A standup guy is a man of honor – among other things, he carries his weight, keeps his word, and can be trusted to have your back even when life deals you aces and eights. One of the most standup guys I know is named Chris Johnson. It's an honor to be allowed the use of your name, brother.
Vash was just buttoning up his coat, doctor's examination of him finished.
"What were you doing leaning out a second-story window?" the doctor inquired as he let Meryl and Milly into his office's examination room.
"Not intending to get pushed out by a flying door," Vash stated dryly, scowling at Milly. She flushed with color and looked away.
"Never mind the how," Meryl said. "It happened, we're at the doctor's office now, the only thing of importance is, is he going to be ok?" It was not concern for him, she told herself; a hurt Vash meant more paperwork, was all.
"There's no major physical damage," the doctor pronounced, "which is amazing in and of itself. But considering that Mr. – Johnson, was it? – that Mr. Johnson landed squarely on his head, there is a possibility that he could have a concussion or similar condition."
"How big of a possibility?" Meryl asked, wearing a trace of a worried frown.
The doctor shrugged. "In most people, I would say it's very likely. But again, there are no signs of any serious injury – from the fall, at least. The amount of damage from previous –"
"Just the facts, doc," Vash cut in, eyes sending a warning to the physician. Meryl made a continue motion with a wave of her hand, but the doctor heeded the warning with a clearing of his throat.
"My point is, from the physical evidence a concussion does not seem probable, but with head injuries caution is always wise. Normally, I would keep the patient awake and under observation for twenty-four hours. However, given that the patient seems in good health – and since I have a date tonight – I'm going to let Mrs. Johnson here –"
"I'm not his wife!" Meryl interjected at the same time as Vash blurted, "She's not my wife!"
The doctor looked back and forth between them. "Then why does your paperwork list the patient as Chris Johnson with spouse of Meryl Johnson?"
Two glares were directed at Milly, who found something interesting to stare at on the ceiling. If Meryl had known her partner would pull something like this, she would have handled the paperwork herself.
"Ok, fine, I'm his wife. /Ok, fine, she's my wife," came the dual mumbles.
The doctor sighed and wiped his glasses with a handkerchief. "Regardless of who actually is whom, I still have a date to get ready for, so the young lady here will need to watch the young man here for the next twenty-four hours. If he makes it to morning without needing any further treatment, including pain relievers, then it's my professional opinion that he won't have to come back here and can go about his business. Remember – don't let him fall asleep, and watch for any erratic behavior."
The last sentence caused Meryl to roll her eyes. Vash the Stampede was the most erratic man she knew – an annoying imbecile most of the time, yet with the light of kindness in his eyes; yet when the situation called for it, the most coolly dangerous man she had ever seen.
"Most importantly," the doctor continued, "don't forget to pay your bill before you leave." With that, he hustled them out of his office.
Out in the street, Vash was debating whether to make a break for it when he heard two crrrrk sounds and felt something tugging at his wrists. He looked at Milly on his left. Looked at Meryl on his right. They each grinned and held up a hand they had handcuffed to his.
"You heard the man," Meryl told him. "You're not going anywhere but back to the hotel, and you're going to stay there where we can keep an eye on you until we can be sure you don't have a head injury."
He groaned at the denial of his freedom. "Aw, man!"