My humble offering of VashMeryl!
I'm still working on my other ongoing fics for other fandoms, this is a fun bonus project. :)
It was a long road.
Meryl was starting to lose count of how many times they stopped to camp for the night. Or how many little towns they drove through for supplies. But there was a problem that tended to surface after a time, no matter where they were. His name was 'Vash'.
The number of people who recognized Vash as the Humanoid Typhoon was surprisingly small, yet enough to ruin any travel plans. And it wasn't long before Meryl made the executive decision for the group: Don't attract attention. Limit any time spent in towns. And, above all else: Don't get into trouble.
These rules had been bent, twisted, and thrown into a loop over the past few weeks of travel. But not broken. So far, anyway. It was a thought she couldn't help but consider as she sat staring at her glass of water. The bar was mostly quiet, as far as bars went- just herself, Roberto, the undertaker, and Vash, along with a handful of locals and a slew of kids. The Innkeeper was in the nearby 'lobby' around a corner.
Meryl watched as Wolfwood made himself comfortable at the bar with a glass of amber liquid. Vash had promptly been confiscated by the group of local kids, mobbing him in some kind of game. Roberto, sitting beside her, already had too much to drink.
She sighed. They were taking a risk, staying in the inn like that overnight. But it couldn't be helped, as their car had the audacity to refuse to run just because it was out of power. She glowered at her drink. "What kind of place closes their charging ports for the night? Who does that?!"
Roberto leaned back in his seat and downed the rest of his glass. "There's probably good reason. Something's got these people spooked."
She blinked, finding the thought completely new. A look around the modest, run-down room led her to look closer at the townspeople. The barkeeper was quiet, his shoulders hunched; unaffected by the undertaker's demands for another drink. The townspeople sitting across the room were similarly sober. They talked, chatted, and appeared dressed decently enough… But there was something hanging over them all. And a strange quiet to the way they spoke, as if they dared not raise their voices too loud. Vash's laughter could be heard over it all.
Meryl frowned. "Everyone's acting a little strange, I guess. But… why? This town seems perfectly nice. Quiet, too."
"Strange? Try scared, newbie."
"Stop calling me that!" She scoffed. "Why would they be scared? This is the nicest town we've found! There weren't even any creepy guys on the street like you usually see around bars."
He leaned over the table. "That's the problem. This kinda place is usually too good to be true. Probably the mafia. Or a gang. Somebody getting protection money."
The kids continued to play in the corner, laughing, completely oblivious to their somber-but-not-sober parents. Vash smiled, laughing alongside them as he tried to extricate his limbs from their grasp.
"That's ridiculous," she said.
Yet even as the words left her lips, she remembered the innkeeper as they hurried their group away from the charging station and into the building. She'd spoken in quick, hushed tones, watching the streets carefully. The… empty and quiet streets. Maybe it wasn't so quaint after all.
Maybe Roberto was right. But Meryl certainly wasn't going to admit it aloud.
She took a long gulp of water and set down the empty glass.
A small face appeared across the table. The young boy watched her with a suspicious squint.
"Hey, there…" she offered with an awkward wave. "What's your-"
"What do you do?" he said. His gaze was a borderline glare, as if she alone threatened their game of 'Sheriff and Robbers'.
"Huh?" she blinked. "What's that supposed to mean, 'What do I do'?"
"What do you do?" he repeated impatiently. He looked across the room, towards the bar. "That guy's an undertaker who buries dead guys." He nodded towards Vash, who was still being mobbed by the other kids in a nearby corner. "That guy's a gunman, with a gun and everything!"
Then the boy looked at Meryl, this time squinting again, much like a parent would after a cookie went missing. "So what do you do?"
She took a moment to collect herself and then remembered to be offended. "I-I'm a reporter with the Bernardelli News Agency, just like him," she gestured to Roberto. He let out a burp.
"Yeah, right," the kid snickered. "He knows what's what. He's a real reporter who smokes and acts mysterious and stuff."
Meryl knew that look. It was the same look her family gave her when she told them her post-graduation plans. The look her friends had when they learned she wasn't planning to just be an office worker, but a full field reporter. The quizzical stare as if she'd lost all sense of herself. "I am too a reporter!" Meryl hastily dug into her jacket, pulling out her reporter's ID badge. She wanted to see the look on the kid's smug face when she proved him completely wrong. "See?"
The kid half-crawled across the table to get a closer look. He looked at the badge, then Meryl, then back and forth at the badge. He shook his head. "I don't see it."
"She's a newbie," Roberto grunted.
She scoffed. "Hey! I'll have you know-"
"Hey! Let's leave her alone, okay?" Vash laughed lightly, stumbling up to the table and leaving a trail of small children in his wake. "Meryl's a great reporter! She even found me, Vas-"
She clamped her over his mouth. "V-Van the gunman!" She nearly shouted, choking out an awkward laugh as an afterthought. After noticing Vash's surprised look, she quickly brought her hand away.
"Terrible name," Roberto muttered. Meryl shot him a deadpan glare.
The little boy's judgemental gaze didn't waver from Meryl; staring her down better than some criminals she'd recently met.
Then, he armed himself with a finger gun. He looked, aimed, and fired.
It only took a moment for the invisible bullet to strike. Vash flew backwards. His arms flailed, barely missing Meryl's head. He spun around one, two, three times. A startled cry passed from his lips as he was struck. His body fell to the ground in a heap of coat and limbs. Drink glasses rattled against wood.
Meryl rushed over to him. "Vash! Are you okay?"
Vash remained completely still. A hand slowly started to twitch. He finally raised a thumb.
Meryl heaved a tired sigh. One night, without attracting attention. That's all they needed. Surely they could go one night and not get into trouble. Just a few more hours, she told herself again.
Across the bar, the undertaker loudly called for another round.
They paid for a small set of connected rooms at the inn. It was covered by their business expenses, and they needed double rooms for herself and Roberto, anyway.
"There's room for you, too," she said, looking at Vash.
He blinked, pointing a finger to himself. "Me?"
"Well… Yeah, duh. There's plenty of room. You deserve a good night's sleep just like anyone else," she said, stating the obvious. They had two rooms and a shared living area. He'd have no problem fitting on the couch.
It took him a moment to respond. Then, hesitantly, he managed a small smile. It wasn't the excitement she hoped for. "Thanks… That's very kind of you."
"It's the company's double-dollars," she said, awkwardly looking away, as if the compliment might burn her. "You should get some rest."
He nodded his thanks with another smile.
"Hey!" the undertaker called from his seat, "What about me? You wouldn't leave a man of God out on the street, would ya?"
Meryl rolled her eyes and glared. "Oh? Are you still going to try and charge us for your 'services' again?"
To her frustration, he just smirked. "Come on. Have a little pity."
It would've been easy to say no. Vash just looked away, indifferent. He still hadn't forgiven Wolfwood for what he did in the windmill town.
But as much as she tried, the word 'no' refused to form. She let out a frustrated sigh. "Fine. You can sit in a corner, or something."
The long drive of the day was rapidly catching up to her. She waved goodnight to Vash and to a mostly drunk Roberto before heading up the narrow stairs. Their room was downright luxurious compared to camping in the desert.
Meryl unpacked some of her things. She draped her jacket over the small desk chair and brought out her notepad. She didn't want to waste the rare silence. But instead of reviewing her notes, she could only hear the tinny voice of a brat going 'What do you do?'
She pouted. The nerve of that kid. What did he know about anything? He couldn't have been more than nine, maybe ten years old.
And yet the question continued to plague her. His skeptical expression; his narrowed eyes as if expecting her career to be a joke.
She couldn't help but think about her place in their mismatched group. The other three were experts in all the ways that mattered. They'd been through impossible situations with terrible odds. Yet, they'd managed to survive in one piece. But it wasn't because of anything she did.
Vash was a confusing contradiction. It was hard to believe he was the 'Humanoid Typhoon', even after seeing the events with her own eyes. The destruction… The pain brought to innocent people around them. That boy Vash had met at the windmill town. The ruins of Jenora Rock.
But whenever she thought of Vash, impossibly, those thoughts were a distant memory. Instead, she thought of his smile, his warmth. How impossibly gentle he was. Especially with kids- a lot of guys didn't do that, she learned from experience. Something about having to look tough and strong.
Not Vash. He didn't care about that. He was strong, obviously, but…
She frowned. It was like he wanted to do the opposite. Something about that made her chest ache. 'I don't deserve to cry,' he'd said, with that terribly empty expression that hurt her the more she thought of it. It was wrong.
Meryl shook her head. That was beside the point. A true analytical journalist, she started to form lists in her head of how everyone contributed, looking at everything in the past few weeks. It was hard to remember everything.
Vash had the ability to make friends with seemingly anyone, all while being a spectacular gunman. (When he remembered bullets, at least.)
Roberto had his keen observations and knowledge.
Even the undertaker knew how to handle himself in a fight and help them out.
Meryl drove the car.
She'd hit a person with it, too.
She slumped over the desk.
The look on Tonis' face hadn't left her since that fateful day. At night, she often remembered his cries after the destruction- all because she couldn't keep ahold of him. What good was she?
It wasn't a new thought. It wouldn't do her any good to dwell on it, as much as she might have wanted to. Slowly, she managed to start reviewing her notes. It was the perfect refuge from her emotions. The countless records of their journeys and of Vash were enough to keep her occupied for hours. It was like she was back in school in November, staying up late, reviewing for an exam or finalizing a research paper. It was comfortable. And it made her forget everything else around her.
Dimly, she recalled Roberto stumbling into the room and into one of the bedrooms. She continued working even after Vash came up and wished her goodnight. She barely turned from her work, and muttered a quick reply.
She didn't know how long she worked. Just that her eyes were fighting to close and the words before her had started to blur. Meryl yawned, stretching her stiff arms. She turned off the table lamp, blearily stumbling through the dark and into the bathroom. Roberto had gone to bed in his own room hours before, probably drunk.
She did the minimum to get ready as tiredness mixed with laziness. Then, in her own room, she stripped down to her leggings, socks, and tank top, leaving her other clothes scattered in a trail leading to the bed.
Sleep was quickly claiming her. Finally under the blankets, she pulled the duvet close to her chin- or, she tried. Frowning, her eyes still closed, she tugged again. The blanket wouldn't move any further. Meryl yanked, again, harder.
There was a sound to her right. An engine noise. Engine? No, that wasn't right, she thought, despite the fog of sleep. Snoring. It was snoring. That made sen-
Her eyes flew open. Panicked, her head flew to the side- and saw a mess of blonde hair with the glint of glasses.
Meryl yelped. Her body flung itself off the bed of its own accord, nearly crashing against the wall. The blankets were tangled in her legs. Reflexively, she covered her tank top with her hands.
Vash was shocked awake, all semblance of sleep forgotten. He shrieked. He yelled. He flew off the bed, frantically spinning. The blankets, now pulled taut, caused him to hobble as his balance left him despite his flailing limbs. He hit the ground.
"W-What are you doing?!" Meryl managed, her face on fire. "Get out! Pervert!"
He was babbling. His voice squeaked. "I-I'm sorry! Ah- I didn't mean- I thought-"
"Just- Out! Get out!"
Frantic, words still failing him completely, he hopped and jumped to free a single foot from the blankets. "S-sorry! I'm sorry!" His face matched the color of his jacket. Then he practically teleported out of the room.
Meryl panted, her heart still racing as her mind struggled to catch up with it all. She gritted her teeth, holding herself. What was that?! How did he think-
A door slammed shut.
Blinking, she peered out into the living area. The front door was closed, a framed picture hanging next to it swinging slightly. His bag was nowhere to be seen.
Her eyes widened. He didn't think she meant… She gaped.
"Wait! Darn it…" She rushed out the door, running down the stairs and skipping half the steps.
There was no sign of Vash in the small lobby. A quick check around the corner showed him nowhere in the bar- the undertaker was there, still slouched over his drink- and it only added to her panic. An insult wanted to bubble up past her lips. But the worry overwhelmed everything else.
She found him outside, on the street, several buildings away. He had his pack thrown over his shoulder. Meryl let out a frustrated sigh of relief. "Vash! What are you doing?!"
He turned, looking at her with earnest surprise. "Meryl? I thought-"
She let out a huff, still trying to catch her breath."I didn't mean 'leave the inn'." Her voice lowered as her earlier panic finally subsided. "I just meant for you to leave my room. That's all." She frowned; the dejected look of his made her feel sorry for him again. Which was silly, really, because she still should've been angry. "I meant there was room for you on the couch."
Understanding dawned, visible like a lightbulb. "Oh!" He let out a weak, awkward chuckle. "Right…"
"We only got two rooms. Roberto took the other…" She shrugged. "I wasn't going to kick you out. I meant what I said, you know? You deserve a good night's sleep. Now, come on."
After a moment, he offered a grateful smile. "Thanks, Meryl," he said in a way that hurt her to see, somehow. She realized it probably wasn't the first time he'd been kicked out from somewhere like that.
Had he been in that same situation before? She wondered if he'd been caught in any other woman's bed- but she shook herself of the train of thought, and was thankful the dark street hid her blush.
Then, the chilly night air made itself known to her. She also realized she was only half-clothed. "A-anyways, get back inside, will you? It's cold out here." She wrapped her arms around herself, still clad only in her tank top and leggings.
Vash's attention shifted to something behind her, and his smile vanished.
"Ya'll better watch yourselves out here," a voice drawled. Two other voices chuckled lowly. Three men strode casually up the street toward them. They were dressed in mismatched clothes, worn and dirty, yet there was the glint of a nice watch or metallic chain necklace. They grinned, watching them knowingly in a way only criminals could.
"Yeah. This town's really dangerous at night," one of them said. The men were blocking the route back to the inn, which was still some distance away. The guns holstered at their sides gleamed in the moonlight.
Meryl took a step backwards instinctively towards Vash. He was already standing in front of her, his hands raised, with an uneasy smile. "That's okay… We can take care of ourselves."
"Maybe. Still, wouldn't hurt to be sure," the leader shrugged, grinning. "We only charge a small fee. Then you'll have nothing to worry about. For protection, and all that."
Meryl found the situation itself very bad, and very concerning. But what was worse, she realized Roberto's assessment of the town was completely right. She'd never live it down.
She frowned, peering around Vash's form. "Protection from… what?"
The man shrugged. "From… something."
Meryl raised a brow, squinting. Then she remembered their guns. She let out a forced chuckle and a brittle smile to match. Her voice was almost a squeak. "We're okay, really! We'll just… go back to the inn, now…"
"Fifty double-dollars," the leader said.
"Okay, okay," Vash said. "We don't want any trouble, guys. Right?" he smiled.
A brittle laugh escaped her lips. "Right! Of course. Let me just-" she reached for her wallet, only to find it was missing. Along with the rest of her jacket.
She turned to Vash, staring, wide-eyed. "Uh…"
He returned her questioning look with a forced laugh and a shrug.
"Don't tell me you don't have any money?!" she gaped.
"No money?" The trio exchanged glances, taking a single step forward in unison.
Vash repositioned himself in front of Meryl. His feet shifted, just slightly, in a way she'd seen him do so before just before a fight. "Sorry! This is really embarrassing!" he laughed. "How about you let her go back and get the money? I'll stay here as collateral. It'll be fine!"
The leader shook his head. "Yeah, right!"
"No money, no protection."
Vash waved an arm dismissively. "Maybe we could send a check somewhere? You know, an IOU? Cut a guy some slack, will ya?"
The men stopped, exchanging glances. "We don't do that, right?" the shorter one asked.
"Do what?"
"Give IOUs," he said thoughtfully. He frowned. "What's an IOU?"
Vash started to discreetly move backwards, away from the men, pushing Meryl back as well.
The leader scoffed. "No! We don't! Why would we do that?!"
They had made it three steps away.
"I don't know… It's polite-like, right?"
The third man considered. "I suppose it would be."
Five steps away.
"Hey!" the leader bellowed. His eyes locked on Meryl and Vash, a hand grasping at his holster. The closest goon was faster, rushing towards them. Vash swiped his prosthetic arm in a downward arc, bashing the man's nose. The man reeled backwards. Droplets of blood flew in the air as he cursed.
Vash pushed Meryl towards the nearest alley. "Run, Meryl!"