Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ After the Fall ❯ Hanabi ( Chapter 2 )

Title:After the Fall
Author:
Timeline:(a few days after Vash returns to the girls with Knives in tow), with a manga topping
Pairings:Millie/Wolfwood, Knives/wouldn't-you-like-to-know
Genre:mildly Hentai in later chapters
Rating:for violence, language, sexual content: you know, the fun stuff
Archive:contact me for permission.
Disclaimer:its characters and universe, are the intellectual property of their respective owners. I am merely borrowing for entertainment purposes. I make no claims of ownership, nor do I profit from my storytelling.
Summary: becoming apparent that Vash didn't have much of a plan as to how he was going to save Knives, apart from kicking his ass and lugging him back to the insurance girls. Hmm... maybe he should have kept that gun. Speaking of insurance girls, he didn't really have a plan for what he was going to do about Meryl, either. Oh, I'm sure it will all work out. I mean, all he has to do is reform his genocidal sociopathic twin, sort out his feelings for Meryl, save humanity, save the plants, and live happily ever after by the credo of Love and Peace... yeah, right.

A/N: Extreme gratitude to my beta, Alaena Night, who besides being a marvelous author, is a superb editor. Among her many talents, she is a human dictionary. Bet you wish you had one of those, huh? She keeps up with my break-neck writing pace, and answers delerious emails at two o'dark in the morning. And I've only known her for about five days. Imagine how deep my devotion will run by the end of the week.


Chapter 2: Hanabi


“...bleeding.”

“...'s in a weird spot...”

“...let me.”

A conversation in bits and pieces. A familiar masculine voice. A woman. Who? The rustling of fabric. Small feet padding across the floor. The smell of antiseptic. Impressions of feelings, emotions. His? No. Vash. And... someone.

Millions Knives was waking up.

He became aware of his growing consciousness just in time to hide the fact from Vash. Idiot. He should have been aware of the change in Knives as soon as he began to come to. Apparently, his brother was... distracted.

Knives was weak, and his body remained sleeping though his mind reached tentatively outward. He gently sifted through his brother's memories, careful to mask his presence, filling himself in on what had occurred since that bastard shot him down.

So, Vash had sought the assistance of his human companions. The girls Legato had informed him of. They knew what he was, what Vash was, and yet they agreed to help. The stupidity and self-destructive tendencies of the breed never failed to amaze him. Oh, Vash. You really are so naïve. What did you think bringing me here would accomplish?

Knives was slightly startled as his twin's heart rate suddenly increased. The girl had her hand on Vash's body. He could feel the thing's fingers, like the legs of a centipede, as if they were crawling along his own flesh. Vash liked the feel of the girl's hand. Fucking heathen. He shifted his concentration, listening in on the girl's thoughts.

Impossible. Impossible to bond flesh and metal and not scream in pain with each breath. How could anyone do this to someone? Let alone someone like Vash?... and still, he looks at humanity with the desire to protect them. How did he endure it? Why did he forgive?... Every member of the human race as his kin. Terrible, when we've no right to expect it, let alone accept it.

“Terrible.” The girl spoke out loud, and his idiot brother flinched, ashamed. He thought the girl was disgusted by his form. Oh, but she wasn't disgusted. She was furious. When she looked at Vash's scars, a flash of hatred boiled in her veins for the Gung-ho Guns, Legato, and of course, Knives himself. Presumptuous, bitch. You don't know anything about me. But bulk of her malice was directed at her own kind. At each hand and weapon, unseen and unknown to her, that ever rose against him. She felt an impotent rage against a time before she'd even been born, when a young and frightened world had carved proof of its most wicked imperfections on the living body of... It's so stupid to wish I had known you then, thought the girl, as if I would have been able to protect you somehow? Worse, her rage dissolved into sadness and she dared to pity Vash, and for some reason, this made Knives angrier than he could fathom. Her very being screamed out to his brother with sickening, sentimental affection. Her tenderness made Knives want to scream at her for touching Vash. He'd throw her across the room if he had the strength. Your race is not our kin! She had one thing right though: Her pathetic race was woefully unworthy of his twin's protection and mercy.

“You're so very beautiful, Vash.” She said it, feeling that his scars were a badge of courage and kindness, as opposed to what they really were: a lesson. A lesson Vash refused to learn. Homo sapien was methodically cruel. If Vash didn't stop them, they would carve away at his flesh until there was nothing left. Didn't Tessla teach you that? Didn't I?

The girl kissed him, and Knives felt his brother's grateful sob. Something tight and hurtful inside his twin uncoiled at the girl's touch, and Knives felt it. Love. He didn't know exactly who this creature was, but he knew what she was: Rem all over again. Maybe worse this time.

Knives had expected Vash to show up to their final duel hopeless and despondent. Broken from having killed, he'd be easy enough to convince. I was supposed to get my brother back! I was supposed to finally save him! But Vash had arrived vigorous with hope, as convinced as ever that the human race was worth sacrificing his own life. Worse yet, he thought to save Knives! As if either of them would be safe while a single human still lived.

He'd been so close to winning Vash over, but he'd failed his brother again. This girl was the reason why.

When she rose to leave, Knives could feel Vash's desperation. He wanted her to stay. He wanted to be close to her. His sentimental excuse for a sibling fumbled over his words, and made a general ass of himself trying to endear himself to the creature. Why, Vash!?

When the woman was gone, Knives felt his brother's attention turn to him. He pulled back, more careful to prevent Vash noticing he was awake. He was thinking about the woman, what her mouth felt like on his skin. “Oh man,” Vash sighed. “What the hell am I doing?”

Knives' body remained motionless, his face soft and complacent, but in his mind he was biting his metaphysical tongue. You're asking me, you fucking adolescent!?

Knives was livid, but he was also feeling something else. Something he hadn't felt in so long. He was afraid. For the first time ever, he doubted his ability to eventually reach Vash. What if I can't save him?

Knives banished the chilly, crawling feeling that accompanied the terrifying thought. There was no way he'd lose him. The life of a human was like a gust of air: sharp and cold and gone in a heartbeat. They, on the other hand, were eternal. Why couldn't Vash see that they were each all the other had? Standing outside of Time, he shared a place with Vash where no mortal could follow. Only, Vash kept dragging Rem's memory along; her foolish ideals plagued his brother still.

Vash's promise to Rem hung in the air, suffocating the space that should have been reserved for only two. It was at times like this he was sorry that Rem was dead. He wished he could tell the bitch she wasn't welcome. You are not my mother. Leave my brother alone. But, this latest woman to enter Vash's heart was very much alive. Knives would make certain she understood she was trespassing.

Knives couldn't lose him, because he'd never give up. No matter what it took, or what he had to do, he'd never give up on Vash. As long as he still had breath, he'd work to save him. He'd find the strength to go another round.

<><><><><><><>< ;><><><>


“Gee, thanks, Mr. Vash.” Millie grinned broadly as she accepted the section of pastry.

“Of course! Hey Meryl, you sure you don't want some?”

“No, thanks.”

“Come on.” He tore off another piece and waved it under her nose, while taking a bite of what remained in his other hand. “It's, like, the best thing I've ever had in my mouth.”

“Uh huh.” Meryl watched the aforementioned, stupidly smiling mouth, and hoped there wasn't enough light in the street for anyone to see her blush. “I've had funnel cake before.”

“Yeah, so have I.” He pouted. “But you can only get it on special occasions. It's better than donuts.”

“Fine. Gimme.” She reached for the piece he'd offered her earlier, only to have it held above her grasp.

“Shocking manners, Miss Stryfe,” he said in mock appall. “Say, 'pleeeease'.”

“Careful, broomhead,” she warned, and he relented. “Thanks. This is really good.” Meryl chewed her second bite thoughtfully and looked around the fair. “So, what are we doing now?”

Meryl noted both of her companions were trying not to laugh. At her. “What? What's so funny?”

“Nothing, Sempai,” Millie answered with overly sweetened innocence. Vash just laughed outright.

Meryl's fists found their way to her hips. “Seriously, what?”

Vash took a step towards her and lifted his hand, “Don't smack me.”

She shied away as he reached for her face. “Don't give me a reason to smack you. What are you...?”

He touched her cheek and ran his thumb down the tip of her nose. Drawing back, he absently sucked the digit into his mouth. “Powdered sugar.”

“Excuse me?”

“Powdered sugar,” he explained again. “You had it on your nose. It looked silly.”

“Sorry, Sempai,” Millie apologized, “it was just really cute. We didn't mean to embarrass.... Hey! Look at that!”

Meryl and Vash followed Millie's emphatic gesturing to a game booth. She was pointing at a stuffed animal that was nearly the size of her. Well, not quite that big, but it was approaching Meryl's proportions.

“It's a puppy!” Millie chirped.

“It's a St. Bernard!” Meryl exclaimed, awestruck by the toy's epic size.

“You want it, big girl? Consider it yours.” Vash sauntered heroically toward the booth, slapping a five double-dollar bill on the counter.

“YAY!” Millie cheered. Meryl rolled her eyes.

The operator of the booth appraised his newest player skeptically. “Two double-dollars gets you one play, young man. You have to shoot all of the star out of the target or else it don't count. Got it?”

Vash picked up the air-rifle as if testing its weight. About five yarz in front of him hung a paper target with a large black star drawn on it. “Piece of cake!”

“Are you really gonna win it for me, Mr. Vash?” Millie asked hopefully.

“Well, of course, young lady.” Vash's voice deepened as he straightened himself to his full height. He spoke into the air, to no one and everyone at the same time. “I'm Vash the Stampede, the Humanoid Typhoon, the most legendary of legendary gunmen, the...”

“Are you for real?” the booth operator interrupted.

“Um, yeah?” Vash offered a docile smile.

The operator looked around for confirmation, and Meryl nodded 'yes', her fingers massaging her temples. “Well, uh,” the operator lifted an eyebrow in the gunman's direction, “aren't festival games a little beneath you?”

“Um, no?”

The operator looked back up, and Meryl shook her head 'no', fingertips still massaging. “Okay then. You got fifteen rounds. Good luck.”

Fifteen rounds. Fifteen BB shots, each point four-six centimeters in diameter. And judging by the distance to the target, the size of the star, the approximate force with which the rifle would expel each round- each shot should leave a hole the size of... oh, well that wouldn't work, but... huh. Was this even possible?

“Huh.” Vash set the rifle back down for a moment and chewed his lip thoughtfully. He hadn't considered that the game might be impossible to win. Jeez, this could get really embarrassing.

“Problems, Mr. Typhoon?” the booth operator asked as condescendingly as possible, a satisfied smirk on his lips.

“Oh, no, mister. No problems, what-so-ever.” Vash looked down the sights of his 'weapon' and fired an experimental shot. It went high and to the right, hitting nothing but the back wall of the booth. Vash ignored the operator's derisive chuckle. After all, now he knew where he had to aim to shoot straight. Looking down the barrel once more, Vash squeezed the trigger, carving a circle of perfectly placed holes around the star. The star, however, remained in place.

The operator blinked a few times in surprise, but soon recovered himself when he realized that Vash had not actually won. “Well, that was a heck of a try, son. Better luck next time, just keep practicing.”

Millie was working very hard at not looking disappointed. “Thanks, Mr. Vash. That was a really great try. It looks like a really hard game...”

“Millie,” Vash cut her off, and lifted the rifle once more. He squeezed the trigger without looking towards his target. A single BB hit the star in the center, knocking it loose and sending it floating to the ground. He gave Millie a roguish smile and a wink. “I still had one shot.”

<><><><><><><& gt;<><><>

“Show off,” Meryl chided, catching the aqua eyes of the man sitting across the table from her.

The passage of twenty minutes found the insurance girls and their charge relaxing at Meryl's place of alternate employment. The bar was loud and animated. Drinks were passed around. The hum of people laughing and talking undercut the deleriously upbeat music of a live band.

Meryl tried to maintain a superior and slightly disapproving glare in Vash's direction, but it was just so difficult not to smile. Especially, with Millie so ecstatically happy over Pedro.

Pedro was, of course, an enormous stuffed puppy, who took up his own seat across from Millie, completing their four-seater table. Vash watched Meryl's junior partner warmly, blushing furiously as she recounted the tale of Pedro's emancipation to anyone who happened to walk by. Meryl didn't realize she was staring at him until he caught her, at which point she attempted (ineffectually) to school her expression to one of perfect, calm disinterest. He simply smiled at her knowingly, not saying a word.

Looking at his placid, contented face, Meryl noted that he seemed really, really happy. This, in turn, made her feel really, really happy herself, which made her smile like an idiot, which made her realize that he was watching her smile like an idiot, which made her feel like she was not only smiling like and idiot, but was, in fact, an actual idiot, and ohmygod I'm gonna have another panic attack.

Luckily, Rosana swooped in with a tray full of salvation. “Three beers, three shots. Stay as long as you like, kids. Drinks are on the house.”

“Rosana don't be silly,” Meryl protested.

“Yeah, Rosie. I told Meryl I'd buy her a drink. You don't wanna make me look like a jerk, do ya?”

Rosana set a pint and a whiskey shot in front of Vash. “I'm sure you'll figure out some way to make it up to her, sweetie.” She mussed his spikes of hair affectionately, which earned her a 'hey, careful!' from Vash and a giggle from Millie.

Millie raised her shot in the air, encouraging her friends to do the same. “To Love and Peace!” she proclaimed.

“To Love and Peace!” they echoed, tilting back their heads and snapping back their glasses. Vash smiled so broadly at Millie, Meryl thought his face was going to split in two.

“Hey, Miss Millie?” The three companions looked up as a young man bashfully approached their table.

“Hi, Jeremy! Mr. Vash, Sempai, this is Jeremy who works with me at the well. Jeremy, this is Mr. Vash and Sempai. Oh, and that's Pedro.”

Jeremy nodded nervously in turn to each occupant of the table. “Mr. Vash.”

“Hey, Jeremy! Nice to see you again!” Vash smiled brightly and Jeremy skittishly took his outstretched hand.

“Yes, sir. You too.” Vash frowned at being called 'sir', but Jeremy continued to say hello to the last (non-stuffed) occupant of the table. “Miss Stryfe, right?”

“Meryl.” She reached across the table and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Jeremy.”

“Likewise, Miss Stryfe.” Meryl noted that Jeremy glanced apprehensively at Vash as he shook her hand. Then she remembered that every man in town thought that Vash was her jealous, violent boyfriend. Apparently, Jeremy included. She shot the outlaw an acid-laced glare that she hoped promised future wrath. Vash squirmed uncomfortably in his chair, and Meryl smiled sweetly.

After the introductions, it was obvious that Jeremy didn't have eyes for anyone but Millie. He didn't even notice the nonverbal exchange between Vash and the black-haired insurance agent. “Miss Millie, I was wondering if, perhaps... that is if you'd, um... would you like to dance?”

“Oh, gee, Jeremy. Sure I would. I love to dance.” Millie rose from her chair, quickly polished off her beer, and told Pedro to be good. Jeremy took her hand and started a few awkward turns around the dance floor. It wasn't long, Meryl noted with a smirk, before Millie had taken over the lead.

“Well, alright then. I give up! You win.” Vash sighed theatrically, as if he were really put out.

“What are you going on about now, broomhead?” Meryl eyed him cautiously, not sure where he was going with this.

“Well, you have that look about you.”

“What look?”

“The one that says you want to dance. So, I suppose, if I have to...”

“What in our history together would make you believe I have a 'look' that means I want to dance?” she protested, but Vash was already standing, and drawing her to her feet by both of her slim wrists.

She closed her fingers around his prosthetic hand, noting that the latest replacement felt pretty real, though not as warm as the hand he rested on her waist. He moved them smoothly into the thick of the other dancers, keeping perfect time with the lively music. With a little push on her waist, he spun her out, twirling her before catching her deftly against his chest once more.

“You're a pretty good dancer, insurance girl.”

“Funny,” she smiled, “I was thinking the same thing about you.”

Of course, it really shouldn't have surprised her. She'd seen Vash fight many times, after all. And though she was usually afraid for his life or her own, she couldn't help but notice the grace with which he moved. His coordination in battle was so seamless that it appeared to require no effort. Vash was in perfect control of each and every muscle that made up his tall frame. And yet, he acted like such a bumbling klutz most of the time. She knew better though, it shouldn't have surprised her that he could dance like this.

Meryl was beautiful when she let her guard down. Maybe it was the fact that she wasn't aware of how she looked. When she wasn't being so self-conscious she glowed with a lambent energythat made his chest a little tight and his knees a little doughy. Flushed and laughing, her sweat-damp hair sticking to her forehead, her eyes shining and crinkling at the corners... mmm. He should have asked her to dance sooner. Like, years ago.

“What are you thinking about!?” she shouted over the music.

He spoke close to her ear so she could hear him, “What do you mean?”

“You've got that look about you!”

“What look?”

“The one that says you're thinking about something, but you're not going to tell me what!”

Vash grinned at her perceptiveness. “Then why bother asking?”

She answered sweetly, “Never know when you might be feeling generous.”

“I was thinking...” he began, twirling her in place a few times before pulling her dizzyingly close, “that I really like dancing with you.”

She looked up from his chest and laughed nervously, fiddling with a button on his shirt. “Oh.”

The rythmic bellowing of a chant drew Vash's attention away from Meryl. Were there other people in this room? He looked across the bar to where Millie stood, gulping beer from an enormous mug. A crowd of burly looking well-diggers surrounded her, cheering, “CHUG CHUG CHUG!”

Millie slammed the empty glass on the bar, evincing a deafening roar from the crowd. “And still champion!” Millie proclaimed, fists raised over her head in victory. “And man, is it hot!” she added, stumbling a little as she pulled off her coat and began unbuttoning her blouse.

“And it's time to go!” Meryl announced, dragging Vash off the dance floor. “You get Millie, I'll get Pedro.”

<><><><><><>< ><><>


Vash stood in the insurance girls' bedroom, watching Meryl wrestle an unwieldy Pedro through the doorframe. “Need help?”

“Nope,” she replied, giving Pedro a final tug and stumbling back into the room. She sat the plush behemoth in the chair at her desk, before facing Vash. “How's she doing?”

Vash looked down at the woman in his arms. She murmured something, her head lolling against his bicep. “Oi, you okay there, tall girl?”

“I'm super! Bring on the punch and pie!” Millie exclaimed, while trying to lurch upright. Vash nearly dropped her, but held on tight. Moving to her bed, he set her down gently, keeping a firm grip in case she tried any more sudden movements.

Meryl moved to Millie's feet and began unlacing her boots. “Meryl?” Millie blinked in slow confusion at her friend.

“Yes, Millie.” She'd pulled off the left boot and was working on the right.

“Did ya go nuts on him yet?”

Meryl felt her eyes go wide, and her cheeks and ears felt like they were on fire. “Go to sleep now, Millie! You need your rest!” she said spiritedly.

“Nuts on who? What's she talking about?” Vash asked, curiously noting Meryl's reaction.

“Oh, who knows? Silly Millie, right?” Meryl answered, perhaps a bit too hastily. She forced a laugh and shrugged, adding, “Anyway, I'm gonna get her changed. Meet me on the porch and we'll go watch the fireworks, okay?”

He eyed her suspiciously, but nodded his assent and headed down the stairs. Meryl breathed a sigh of relief and jerked off her partner's other boot with a little less tenderness than the first.

Once Millie was safely tucked away, Meryl made her way down to the porch, where Vash sat on the rocker, taking a lazy pull from a whiskey bottle. “Ready?” he asked brightly.

She resisted as he took her hand and started to lead her through the street. “Where are you going? Town's in the other direction.”

“The cliffs,” he answered, not slowing his pace. “Better view.”

“But,” Meryl looked back longingly as they moved further away from the glow of the town's festivities, “there won't be anyone up there.”

“Yeah, so?”

“And it's a long walk.”

“We have time. You getting lazy on me, insurance girl?”

“No, but...”

“Okay. Pick up the pace then.” He tugged on her hand encouragingly, and she jogged a few steps to catch up. Three of the five moons were still completely dark, and the remaining two were mere slivers. She could barely make out Vash's white shirt as they began the ascent that would end at the top of the cliff.

“I can't see. I'm gonna trip.”

He rearranged her hand so that she had a firm grip on his arm. “I won't let you fall.” She could make out his teeth and knew that he was smiling. “I've got cat-like speed reflexes, remember?”

Meryl said nothing, stepping carefully as they climbed. She stumbled twice, but true to his word, Vash held her fast while she regained her footing. Eventually, her eyes adjusted to the dark, and she found she was able to make out quite a lot by starlight. They reached the apex of the trail, and Meryl sat down in the sand next to Vash, a few feel from the edge of the precipice.

Vash took a drink from his bottle and looked out at the stars. Below, Meryl could make out the town, and the music of revelry drifting up on the breeze.

“What's your family like?”

The question caught her off guard. “My family? Why?”

“I've just been thinking, you complain that I'm secretive, but I don't really know anything about you. Millie's always talking about her family, but you never talk about yourself. I'm just curious.” He offered her the bottle. She took it and brought the mouth to her lips, rolling the shot around on her tongue before she swallowed.

“Well,” she began uncertainly, focusing on the comforting burn of the liquor as it travelled down her throat, “I don't really have a family.”

“You're an orphan?”

“No, I...” she paused. She rolled the whiskey bottle between her hands, feeling the chill glass warm to her touch. “I'm an only child. My mother died having me. My grandfather taught me how to handle a gun when I was ten, but he died not too long afterward. I grew up living with my father. He's a plant engineer, actually, for the town of Bellus. You know it?”

Vash shook his head.

“Well, it's a pretty small place, only one plant,” she continued. “It's where I grew up, just outside of December. I haven't spoken to him since I was seventeen though.”

“Why not?” It was dark, but Meryl could make out his features well enough to see sympathy. Besides, it laced his voice when he spoke. But sympathy, when it was directed at her, unsettled Meryl. This is why I don't talk about it. Hearing about my dead mom and my estranged father tends to make people look at me, well, like the way Vash is looking at me right now actually: like he just found an injured kitten all alone in an alleyway. Then again, the topic of her family made her generally uneasy, even when the only one looking at her was her own reflection.

“I tried sending him a letter a few years ago,” she admitted, “but I never heard back.”

“But why'd you stop talking in the first place?”

“Well...” Meryl took another deep swallow from the bottle. She felt a little dizzy, and there was a pleasant lightness in her limbs. It was helping to ease the hollow feeling in her chest that took root whenever she thought about her father. Vash was looking at her expectantly. She searched the open sky beyond the bluff and chewed a frayed cuticle.

Realization dawned on Vash's face. “You don't want to talk about this.”

“Not even a little.” She laughed and handed the bottle back to him. “Thank you.”

“So you're all alone then?”

“What? No! I have Millie and...”

“But you're not honest with Millie. I mean, you hold back with her.” He was as serious as she'd ever seen him. And he was really pissing her off. It was true that Meryl didn't have the kind of personal relationships where one offered up his or her heart. But there were good reasons for it, and many advantages to living the way she did. Where the hell would everyone be if they just plopped their hearts and souls down on the table? What would it accomplish, other than making a person appear weak and self-indulgent? And he was one to talk!

“Like you're one to talk!”

“But it's hard for me.”

“Oh, cry me a river! Like you corner the market?” She crossed her arms with a huff. When he didn't respond after a few moments, or even indicate that he'd heard her, she softened a bit and asked, “So, why's it so hard for you?”

“Because...” He stopped. She was beginning to think that was the end of his answer, but he finally continued. “Because everyone I know is going to die. And that would be okay, except that I won't. The people I come in contact with seem to keep meeting violent ends. And even those that don't, they grow up and age. I suppose it's disquieting to watch yourself getting older, and then you look over at me: I never look older than twenty-four.” He quoted the 'approximate age' listed on his wanted poster with a humorless laugh. “I never change. I just collect a few more scars. People are more comfortable keeping me at a distance, and I guess... I guess a part of me is more comfortable that way too.”

Meryl had thought about what his life must have been like. She'd been thinking about it since the day she learned what he really was, so nothing he said came as a surprise. It was the fact that he was actually saying it, out loud, and to her, that had her gobsmacked. She had no idea what she could possibly say in response to his confession. “Um, I think you look at least twenty-five,” she tried.

Vash rewarded her with a chuckle for her efforts. He reached across the sand in the dark, and slipped his fingers through hers. “It's just safer on your own. You know what I mean?” Meryl did know. To let someone in, to trust and love them completely, was like handing them a knife and waiting for the day they decided to slit your throat. Meryl had thought that she was so strong, to prevent anyone ever gaining that power over her again. But sometimes, like now for example, a little voice whispered what that really made her. Vash gave her the saddest hint of a smile. “Guess that makes me a coward, huh?”

“People do what they have to, Vash.” It sounded lame falling on her own ears, and she desperately wished she had something better to say.

He shifted closer to her, and she could feel the length of his body, a warm line down her side against the chilled night air. His breath moved her hair as he spoke. “But it's lonely, right?”

A loud bang and a flash of light made them both jump about twelve feel in the air. Meryl made a small shriek and noted with amusement that Vash made a sound that wasn't too far off. She laughed at them both, and settled back on her elbows to watch the fireworks display.

Vash liked fireworks. A lot actually. Which is why it was odd that he found himself not paying very much attention to the sky in front of him. In fact, he couldn't seem to tear his eyes off of Meryl. The way each flash in the sky illuminated her profile from a slightly different angle. The way she jumped a little at each boom. The way she was smiling because she didn't realize she was being watched.

Eventually, she felt his eyes on her and turned her head. This would have been a good time to quickly avert his gaze and pretend he'd been watching the fireworks all along. Or, at least, he should have done something about the expression he wore, which was worshipful and obvious. But somehow, he didn't want to lie to Meryl, either outright or by evasion. Maybe, it would have been more correct to say that he didn't particulary have the strength to tell himself another lie either.

Vash didn't bother to analyze any of this. He was too busy pulling himself closer to her, looking into her wide eyes, and leaning in until he was as close as he could get before it became a classifiable embrace. She was frozen as if afraid the slightest movement could send the world crashing down around her ears. Her breaths were shallow. Her gaze darted from his eyes to his mouth and back again.

This was his chance to say something profoundly meaningful, and possibly clever, that would irrevocably alter the course of both of their lives from this point into eternity. Deep breath. Make it good. “You in love with me, insurance girl?” Of course, anything I could have said would have been better than what just came out of my mouth.

Just like he predicted, as the ill-planned sentence bypassed his brain-to-mouth filter and exited his throat, Meryl's reaction was immediate and severe.

“What?! No!” Her eyebrows crunched together in a deep V, her teeth clenched. He had only fractions of a second remaining before she hit him and marched away. Maybe, if he acted quickly, there was still a chance.

He caught her cheek in his hand, commanding her gaze, trying to let everything he was feeling play out on his face. Oh God, what was he feeling? What was he doing? Say something, you idiot! Vash licked his lips and tried again, “So, you'd probably be pretty mad if I kissed you then?” Like that's any better!?

Vash had expected to take a hand across the jaw, but Meryl responded so softly, her words were little more than whispers. “I'd be furious.” It should have promised a beating. Instead, it promised surrender. He took a breath of the air expelled from her lungs. She tasted like sugar and whiskey. She was watching him through half-closed eyes, expectantly.

Maybe it was because he'd been trying so hard to reach Knives, or it could be that her emotions were screaming in her skull, but suddenly Meryl's thoughts entered his mind unbidden. “Don't hurt me, Vash.” He heard her as clearly as if she'd spoken out loud, and he knew it was the final plea of the conquered. She'd lost a battle she'd been fighting with herself. He was one touch away from owning her heart, and there wasn't a thing she could do to stop him, to protect herself. All those things he'd been feeling before, and had chosen not to analyze, suddenly started wondering if this was the best thing for her, for them.

With his lips about to brush hers, he looked into her eyes, and hesitated. It was only for a moment, not even the length of a breath, but she saw it. It was long enough for her to feel rejected and mount a fresh defense. Both her small hands were instantly on his chest, forcefully shoving him backward. “Don't make fun of me, you bastard!”

She was on her feet, obviously intent on leaving as quickly as possible. While he expected her fury, he didn't understand her choice of words. “I wasn't making fun of...”

At the sound of his voice, she gave up her hasty retreat, and decided to stay and fight. “Are you crazy!? What? You think I'm some kind of easy mark!?”

“Meryl, be careful.”

“You know, they warned me that you were some kind of notorious rake! What an idiot!”

“Meryl, look where you're pacing.”

“I can't believe I let myself get dragged up here and fed half a bottle of whiskey and...!”

“Meryl, STOP!”

The urgency and authority in his voice stopped her dead in her tracks. As the finale of the firework display lit the sky to near daylight, she looked down to see her feet precariously close to the edge of the cliff. She tried to move backward and the soft earth began to crumble beneath her toes. Between the booze in her system, and dizzying drop in front of her, Meryl felt the world spin. Her voice came in a small, terrified tremor, “Vash?”

“It's okay, just don't move.”

“Help.”

“I'm moving up right behind you. On the count of: One. Two. Three!” A long arm snaked around her waist and pulled her back in a single swift movement, as the ground dissolved beneath her feet. She landed with a light thump in Vash's lap as he skidded to a halt.

Meryl allowed herself to exhale her relief before fighting against the arms that held her. “Get your hands off me, lecher.”

She hastily stood and started knocking the sand from her clothing. Vash followed her to his feet, annoyance evident in every feature. “Lecher!? Please. Like you didn't want it?”

Vash then found out what it meant to have the taste slapped from one's mouth.

Meryl stared at him with wide, surprised eyes, the violent appendage covering her mouth. He took a stunned moment to gingerly touch his swelling cheek before attempting to explain. “When I said 'it', I didn't meant it it, I meant...” he sighed heavily. “Look, this got out of hand... Is that really what you think of me, Meryl? You think I brought you up here to take advantage of you?”

“No, but...”

“Don't you trust me?”

“Yes, but...”

“Well, good. Because I've always trusted you and I'd hate for the feeling to be one-sided. Now,” his eyes narrowed into an expression that Meryl thought looked deeply impatient and vaguely threatening, “will you please shut up and take my goddamn hand before you fall on your ass?”

Vash had never been angry with her, Meryl thought as he led her away from the cliff. He'd pushed her away, he'd yelled at her, but he'd never been angry. Before now. Well, why wouldn't he be? She'd over-reacted and accused him of being an ill-intentioned pervert. She'd slapped him as hard as she'd ever slapped anyone in her whole life. And why? Because he was right. Because she had wanted it. Wanted him. And that scared her worse than any life-or-death situation she'd landed in over the past few years. She really was a coward. She'd mistaken her ability to get by without anyone else as strength. Now she was just pathetic, and being led through the dark like a child. You will not cry. You will absolutely not cry. You will not cry.

“I'm leaving.” Vash's voice shattered her mantra.

“Of course you are.” At least it's too dark for your crying to be seen. Try and be quiet about it. “When?”

“What do you mean, 'of course'? I'm not bolting on you two, or anything. I'm going tomorrow, but I'll only be gone for five days, seven tops. I need to ask you and Millie to take care of Knives.”

“You're leaving Knives?” Meryl stopped, jerking Vash to a halt. “What if he wakes up?”

“He won't. I promise. I just have to take care of something. I won't be gone any longer than I have to.”

“What are you going to do?”

“If I told you,” Vash looked at her seriously, “I'd have to kill you.”

Well at least he isn't angry anymore. laugh was edged with a sniffle, and he inspected her face more carefully. “Are you crying?”

“No,” she responded, humiliated as a hiccup uncovered her lie.

“I'm sorry.” He gave her the second honest-to-goodness hug he ever had, only this time it didn't disintegrate into spinning and bone-crunching. “I'm a broom-headed idiot.”

She laughed against his chest. “I know.”

It was nice. Being held like this. She closed her eyes, relaxed her muscles, listened to his heart beating beneath her ear. Quiet, brain. “You do realize that it's my job to keep track of you? You really won't tell me where you're going?”

“Can't. Not because I don't trust you. I just... can't.”

“Will it be dangerous?”

“No, nothing like that. I just have to pick something up.”

“Good. Because if you got yourself killed, and abandoned Millie and me with your brother, I'd kill myself just to track you down in hell and beat the snot out of you.”

“Meryl,” he smiled into her hair, “you know I disapprove of suicide more than anything.”