Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ After the Fall ❯ Mad Love ( Chapter 4 )

Title: After the Fall
Author: Girl.Interpreted
Betas: Alaena Night & Sugar Pill
Timeline: Post-anime (a few days after Vash returns to the girls with Knives in tow), with a manga topping
Pairings: Vash/Meryl, Millie/Wolfwood (welcome back, buddy!), Knives/wouldn't-you-like-to-know
Genre: Drama/Sci-Fi/Romance/Action/Adventure/Perhaps mildly Hentai in later chapters
Rating: T- for violence, language, sexual content (okay, so, starting to get slightly sexy. Don't get too excited or you may find yourself a bit frustrated. We're talking sensuality and a suggestive situation. It's not a lemon, people. And there is quite a bit of swearing in this chapter, though I feel it's appropriate.)
Archive: Please contact me for permission.
Disclaimer: Trigun, 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. This chapter gets an extra disclaimer, because the manga topping just got extra crunchy. There are references, as well as a chunk of dialogue taken directly from Trigun Maximum. If you can tell me what the quote is and which volume it's from, my beta Alaena Night will provide you with a lifetime supply of chili-cheese dogs. (She's good like that.)
Summary: If you don't know by now, go back to chapter one :-P
A/N: Sorry for the delay. You must be used to me posting every few days, and I made you wait a whole week for this one. But there were extenuating circumstances, including, but not limited to, the fact that I lost heat and had to wear mitten inside (so not conducive to typing). This is a really long chapter though, so I hope you'll all be pleased. Nearly eight thousand (7,954) words! Bonsai!! Once again, I will take this opportunity to thank my betas. No matter how many times I thank them, it will never be enough. I'm honored that they take the time to offer their opinions and insights. The same to those of you readers who take the time to review. Sometimes I just can't get over it. Of all the things you could be doing, you choose to read my story and tell me what you think. Somehow a smiley is inadequate, but I will type one anyway: :-D


Chapter 4: Mad Love


Meryl sat in front of her typewriter, fingers hovering over the keys. It should have been making satisfying clacking and popping noises by now, but she was having trouble with this report. Unable to write, she'd been resigned to staring at the blank sheet, and drinking coffee. Six cups later...

Well, at least Millie was at work. Her reaction to Meryl's confession the night before had been nothing less than uncompromising sympathy and firm acceptance. And while a part of her felt relief at exposing her secrets, another part of her just felt, well, exposed. She was glad she didn't yet have to face her partner in the light of day.

She thought back, wincing at how ridiculous she must have looked. She had cried steadily for two full hours, which she was sure was some kind of a record. Not even Vash could beat that. How long had she been fortifying that dam? What did she expect would happen when it finally burst? Well, she supposed, she hadn't really thought about it. That was the point: If it bothers you, don't think about it.

It was a doomed plan from the start.

Now she was like one washed out to sea. One who'd never bothered to learn to swim. She felt utterly unequipped to deal with the consequences of nearly a decade of denial. Last night, after Millie had gone to bed, she really did have a panic attack. Lying on her bed in the dark, the invasive sensation of terror had stampeded through her awareness and every bone in her body. She hadn't had one of these attacks for years, not since she'd discovered the distracting power of work. She'd willed her mind blank by recalling claim numbers and company protocols, until the adrenaline exhausted itself and she fell asleep. More like passed out. The six cups of coffee weren't doing anything to ease her anxiety now.

Work. Back to work. A faithful companion and refuge. Despite her decision to allow the darkest truths of her life into the open air, work was something that could still offer shelter. Even if that shelter was inevitably temporary and fragile.

When she'd first run away from her father's home, work had been the only thing that kept her sane. She'd been all set to enter apprenticeship and become a plant engineer. Just like Dad. Of course that was before, and having left school, there had been no question of that remaining an option. Dad made sure her choices were limited.

She'd finally found herself in December, pleading her case to the human resources agent at Bernardelli. She'd been firm, even arrogant. “If you do not hire me today, I promise that it will be the single biggest mistake of your career.â€

And so, whether out of pity, humor, or admiration, the agent had given her a job as the assistant to the secretary of a secretary. Forget about the bottom rung, this was the dirt under the ladder. But it was all the opportunity a seventeen-year old Meryl Stryfe had needed.

She worked overtime, overnights, weekends, holidays. She did whatever she was asked and more, without additional pay or bonuses, without complaint. And Meryl, in turn, was grateful for her workload, a number of tasks that could provide distraction at any given moment. She thought about work in the shower, while making dinner, while trying to fall asleep at night. Anything to keep from thinking about... that.

It hadn't been long before she was recommended for a promotion. And when the opportunity for fieldwork presented itself, she'd jumped at the chance. The company had a hard time finding agents willing to head off into the Outer, but Meryl loved it. Any reason to run, to escape into the anonymous void. Everyday another town, another set of faces that would soon forget hers.

She never slowed her pace. And if her assistants couldn't keep up? Well, too bad for them. They obviously had no business anywhere but behind a nice comfy desk. She'd about given up on the idea of a partner before they sent her Millie. That poor girl should have run for her life after their first introduction. Why Millie had agreed to go anywhere with her after she'd received such an icy preamble, Meryl would never know.

It was because of Millie that she'd started to feel less lonely. But of course, that meant she'd had to admit how alone she'd felt before. Despite the cost, it was nice to have a friend. Even if she did keep Millie at arm's length. Meryl could admit that now. It seemed that admissions were a bit of a chain reaction. Now that she'd started, she was afraid she wouldn't be able to stop.

Stupid bastard, this is all your fault! Goddamn, broom-headed, bane of her existence! If only that jerk had turned out to be the cruel, womanizing, city-destroying outlaw he was supposed to be, she thought with a sigh. Why did he have to be so damn cute, and make her laugh so much? She missed the days when he never used her real name, when he never would have asked her to dance or reached for her hand, threatened to kiss her in the dark. Yep, those were the good ol' days. Liar.

She rapped her fingers in impatient succession on the surface of the desk. What was it about Vash that affected every nerve in her body? For better or worse, she couldn't be sure. Last night, when the last of her tears were cried, she'd told Millie she wasn't sure if she was ready for this, to go through this.

“You'll never be ready,†Millie had answered, her eyes steady and sure. “You'll just go through it and that will make you ready.â€

Meryl had been running, and blaming it on her job, for a long time. And if she accepted Millie's advice, it was time to stop. Thus, the report she was about to write. In seven years she'd never been anything but completely honest in every report she'd sent home to Bernardelli. But, she was about to tell a lie, and a whopper at that. She was going to report that Vash the Stampede was dead.

Killed by an unknown assailant, and buried in the desert, the Humanoid Typhoon would no longer pose a threat to the inhabitants of Gunsmoke, nor the constituents of the Bernardelli Insurance Society. Considering the weight of this news, and the considerable effort expended on the pursuit of their charge, Meryl Stryfe and Millie Thompson would announce their permanent leave of absence.

This, of course, would mean the end of work. Beautiful, mind-numbing work. And Meryl would no longer be able to pretend that she followed Vash because she was employed to do so. She did it because anything that didn't involve her being at his side felt inexcusably wrong. And, of course, it would give Vash the opportunity for a fresh start. If anyone deserved one, it was him. Yes, fresh starts all around.

“I can do this.†She tried on a smile and set her fingers on the typewriter's keys once more. “I can do this. I can do this.†I can't do this.

Meryl pushed herself away from the desk with a growl. She didn't like this new honest-with-herself-and-those-around-her Meryl. She was a frazzled mess who drank too much coffee and talked to herself. Funny, how being honest required her to tell such an enormous lie.

What the...?

Suddenly she was on her feet, her legs moving and not through her direction. She could feel the panic rising in her gut, her confusion acute. Her mind was a tornado of plausible explanations. Until she saw where her feet had brought her, and as her hand turned the doorknob, she knew.

While Knives had been asleep, she'd marveled at just how closely he resembled Vash, complete with the little beauty mark beneath one eye. Like some beautiful mirror image. Now that he was conscious, she could see how wrong she'd been. The man who appraised her with disdainful eyes, was nothing like his brother. The features were all there, but they were twisted by disgust and malice. Familiar brows and cheekbones framed eyes that inspired as much warmth as a viper poised to strike. “Bring me water and something to eat. I'll need traveling supplies and a reliable vehicle. I expect us to leave within the hour.†He turned his face to the ceiling and closed his eyes.

Her throat was tight, and dry as sand, but she found her voice, “Vash...â€

“Is gone and won't be back,†he interrupted. “At least, not in time to be of any use in your current situation.â€

She opened her mouth again, but he stopped her. “My directions do not require you to speak. Perhaps we should get something clear between us: The length of your life is dependent upon two factors: How useful you remain, and how little you annoy me. Should the other woman return before we leave I will not hesitate to kill her. Either way,†he sighed and coughed weakly, “I honestly don't give a fuck.â€

Meryl's panicked brain was racing. What the hell could she do? Could he really force her to leave with him? She couldn't let Millie get hurt, but maybe she could leave her a note, or... “Idiot,†Knives' voice suddenly echoed in her head, “I could kill you where you stand without lifting a finger. You are still alive because I believe you may be a useful tool.†His eyes opened and turned back on her. “Was I wrong in this assumption?â€

She was sure that Knives had not taken control of her tongue, and yet it remained stubbornly glued to the roof of her mouth. Perhaps this had something to do with the fact that she'd never been so frightened. Knives grinned in malicious pleasure at the terror he'd inspired. “Good. Then you understand.â€

He closed his eyes again, signaling that the conversation had reached its conclusion. She felt his control loosen on her legs and they nearly collapsed beneath her. Only the overwhelming instinct to get as far away from him as possible kept her standing. She groped blindly for the doorknob and soon found herself in the hall outside, heart racing.

How could he be awake? Vash promised. And where the hell did he expect them to go? Meryl didn't think he'd be able to even make it down the stairs in his current condition. But, weakened or not, he was dangerous. With Vash days out, the best thing she could do was get Knives as far away from other people as possible. At least then the only one he could hurt would be her. A chill wrapped itself around her spine at the thought. No, she had to stay hopeful. Vash would come for her, and this nightmare would be over. She just had to keep herself alive until then. And staying alive meant doing what Knives asked. She straightened her back and gave her head a small, dignified shake. Jaw set, eyes sharp, she headed for the kitchen.

<><><><><><><>& lt;>

The preacher man's uneasiness was a powerful contagion. It hadn't been long after their reunion that Vash had begun to doubt the wisdom of leaving Knives alone with the girls. He tried to reason that they were more than capable of watching out for themselves, and that Knives was deeply and helplessly unconscious. These arguments were becoming less and less convincing however, and by the time Wolfwood had liberated a jeep (he'd argued that no one in Carcasses would be missing it), Vash's anxiousness to be home no longer centered around finding out how badly Meryl had missed him while he was gone.

“Forget the guns, Wolfwood. I think we should go straight home.â€

“Nice to see that you've come to your senses, Tongari,†Wolfwood had replied. “However, I'm not getting within fifteen iles of your brother without a weapon.â€

And so, they found themselves returning from the desert with one over-sized and hastily wrapped cross, two colts, and one red duster (minus the right sleeve). Even with the pit stop, the ride home was considerably shorter, and they pulled up to the little house early the next morning.

“You should wait here, Wolfwood,†Vash said as they neared the porch. “I have to, um, prepare them.â€

“You didn't tell them you were coming back with me!?†Wolfwood had that look on his face that meant he was trying to remember he was a priest, and would therefore be out of line if he shot his friend.

“I wasn't sure I was coming back with you. I couldn't tell them. If it hadn't worked, it would be like killing you all over again.â€

Vash left his friend to pace the sand that served as a front yard. He supposed it would be wise to tell the girls about Wolfwood's resurrection before the ill-tempered priest ran out of cigarettes. But what exactly was he going to say? “Hey, remember when I told you that Wolfwood was dead? Yeah, well, that wasn't entirely, strictly the truth.†Or maybe, “Hey Meryl, you know how you're always saying what an idiot I am? Well, turns out I'm a liar to boot! Oh and, sorry, tall girl! Didn't mean to cause you all that grief.â€

He willed the air to enter his lungs in a steady breath. “Hey, girls? You home?†He rapped gently on the door frame. “I've got to talk to you.â€

He only had one foot in the kitchen before Millie collided with his chest. “Oh Mr. Vash! I've been so scared! I didn't know what to do! I got home and Sempai was gone and so was Mr. Knives and there wasn't a note or anything and I don't know where they've gone or...!â€

Vash gripped her shoulders and pushed her far enough away that he could see her face. “Millie, slow down! What are you...?†One look at her drawn and troubled expression set off the avalanche of dread that had been pushing at the surface of his mind. He released her, sending her spinning as he raced up the stairs. “Meryl!? Knives!†He found both bedrooms empty. Shit shit shit shit shit!

Wolfwood heard Vash's panicked voice and started for the porch, only to be met by the frantic blond as he stormed through the front door. “Vash! Whoa, what's going on?†He placed himself in Vash's path, blocking his way.

“Move!†Vash attempted to sidestep the preacher, but found himself blocked once more.

“I asked you a question, dammit!†A small, stifled cry of surprise turned Wolfwood's attention back to the front door. Millie had followed Vash outside, and from the look on her face, it was clear that he hadn't had a chance to tell her the good news. Her eyes were like dinner plates, fixed and afraid to blink. He felt suddenly awkward, the raging gunman temporarily forgotten. He hastily pulled off his sunglasses and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “Um.†He raised his hand, and the corners of his mouth, in what he hoped was a friendly greeting. “Hi, honey.â€

Millie made another small, sharp sound and collapsed her weight against the railing she was leaning on. He took the space between them in a few short strides, gripping her arm to keep her from falling. “Easy. You okay?â€

At the feel of his hand on her arm, Millie was suddenly upon him, clutching his arms and pulling him to the ground where she sat. Her hands moved in rapid succession over his face, his chest, his hands, as if testing their solidness, the corporeal reality of the man in front of her. Soon she was crying and laughing all at once, pulling him into her arms. He held her as close as he could, practically dragging her into his lap, one hand tangled in the hair at the back of her head, the other desperately gripping her shoulder. “I thought you were dead,†she gasped.

“So did I,†he answered against her neck. “It's okay, though,†he quickly added, pulling away to look at her face. “I'll explain everything, okay?â€

She turned her face into the hand he held against her cheek and nodded. Vash reappeared through the front door. Apparently he had rethought his hasty and immediate departure, and had gone back inside for a few supplies. Millie and Wolfwood had failed to notice.

Wolfwood was quickly back on his feet and caught Vash's shoulder as he passed. “Where the hell are you going?â€

“Knives has Meryl. I'm going after them.†He violently shrugged his shoulder, dislodging Wolfwood's grip.

“Dammit, Spikey! What the fuck did I tell you!?†He retrieved his cross from where he'd dropped it in the sand.

“Thank you. I'm well aware of the consequences of my actions,†he said with a pained, tight expression. “Stay here with Millie.â€

“Like hell!â€

Vash spun on him with a growl, raising his gun. “I said stay here!†Wolfwood didn't back down. Vash contemplated the priest's resolute expression and determined posture. It would be tricky, if not impossible to convince him to stay behind.

Wolfwood laughed. “What are you going to do, needle noggin? You going to shoot me?â€

A shadow of a smile blew across Vash's lips right before the gun went off. The bullet took Wolfwood cleanly in the shoulder, knocking him backward to the ground. “SHIT!†Wolfwood covered the wound with his hand, trying to sit up. “That really hurt!â€

“Sorry, buddy. It's the only way I could be sure you wouldn't follow me.â€

“Sometimes I truly hate you, Tongari.â€

“Don't whine, you'll be fine in a few days. Jeez, you'd think you'd never been shot before.†He offered his friend an apologetic smile.

Millie seemed to wake from her stupor by the porch and charged Vash with a raised fist. He caught her hand before it could connect with his face. “I'll never forgive you, Mr. Vash! I can't believe you! That was a terrible thing to do!â€

If she hadn't known Vash so well, Millie might have described his expression as cold. But as it was, she could see how heartbroken and pained his eyes were, and for a moment she regretted what she'd said. “I'm sorry, Millie, but I can't put anyone else in danger. It's bad enough that Meryl's in trouble because of me. I'll bring her back though, okay? You just take care of Wolfwood. The wound's not that bad, I promise.†He smiled reassuringly and vaulted back into the jeep, tossing his bag in the back.

Millie crouched down to where Wolfwood lay in the sand, angrily watching Vash's departing taillights. “That idiot just has no goddamn sense,†he gritted as Millie helped him to his feet. “I have to go after him before I lose the trail.â€

“You're not going anywhere right now. Besides, I figured that Mr. Vash was going to try and take off without me, so I grabbed a tracker before I followed him outside. The chief at Bernardelli gave it to me a long time ago, so I wouldn't screw up like I usually do, and I slipped it in Mr. Vash's pocket before when I took a swing at him.â€

Wolfwood smiled broadly. “You really are amazing.â€

She returned the smile. “Are you okay?â€

“Yeah, fine. It's just a flesh wound. Anyway, joke's on him.†He gestured to the bloodied, black cloth sticking to his skin. “This is his shirt.â€

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Knives had had a hell of a time getting down the stairs and into the pickup. Even getting out of the bed had been a struggle. He'd been forced to accept the assistance of his brother's pet human. Thankfully, the diminutive creature had proven to be surprisingly strong. Even with part of his weight distributed on her small frame, it had taken all the strength Knives had to put one foot in front of the other. He'd gritted his teeth, feeling his wounds reopen, the unmistakable pain of tearing flesh. They'd driven all yesterday and through the night. Now, he was barely able to keep his eyes open. He was feverish, he knew. The suns had risen, and were gaining height in the sky, yet he shivered. His thoughts were a muddled mess in his skull.

“Knives!â€

He felt the very moment that Vash discovered the empty bedrooms. He heard his voice, barely able to knock it away. Knives hadn't been expecting Vash to reach out with such force, and he'd simply been too weak to deny his brother access to his mind. You mean, I've spent the better part of the last century trying to get him to embrace what he is, and he finally makes a show of power because I threaten this insect? He was still a good distance away, however. Knives would have at least a full day and night before Vash managed to catch up. The ghost of his twin's fear and rage stayed with him, even as he forced the connection shut with the last of his remaining energy. You blame yourself for my transgressions, dear brother? How very like you.

“Knives, are you okay?†The woman's voice sounded like it was underwater. He felt the truck slow. When they stopped, she placed a hand on his forehead. “You're burning up.â€

He knocked her hand away, but the motion rolled his stomach. He opened the truck's door and retched in the sand. The woman's small hand was on his back, moving in slow circles that he supposed were meant to be comforting. He spit the remaining bile from his mouth. “Don't touch me,†he managed to grind out.

“Here.†She continued as if she hadn't heard him, helping him to sit back in the seat, and lifting a canteen to his lips. He snatched the container away, and was disappointed that the gesture didn't have much force behind it. She turned in her seat and reached behind her for the first aid kit she'd tucked away. Soon she'd retrieved as small towel and took the canteen wordlessly from his hand. She poured a little of the water on the towel and laid it over his forehead. “With your window down, the air will cool the rag and help with the fever. You should take some aspirin too.â€

He laughed, too exhausted to resist her ministrations. “Concerned about me? You know, I think I was about to pass out. It would have been easy enough to kill me.â€

Her brow furrowed as she frowned. “I wouldn't do that. Not even to you.â€

That made him smile. “Even if it means your own life, fool? Or do you think me like Saint Vash?â€

“I've no illusions about your intentions, Knives. You are nothing like Vash.â€

“Thank you.â€

“It wasn't meant as a compliment.†She had crossed her arms and was looking particularly defiant. It had to be the fever, Knives reasoned, but for some reason it made him want to laugh rather than cut her throat. “What are you laughing at?†she demanded.

A fresh round of chuckles shook his shoulders. He turned away from her and spoke into the air. “Oh, dear Vash! Of course you took a pet. You always were fond of animals.â€

This seemed to make the human more cross. “Do you hate him so much?â€

The question instantly quieted his laughter. He turned his eyes on the woman, his gaze weakening her defiant posture into something more frightened and unsure. “Watch what you say, you vile parasite.†He grabbed her arm and dug his fingers into her flesh until he was sure that it hurt. The next words he spoke were low and dark, the hand that held her trembled with rage. “I suppose you believe that you love him? You cannot even begin to comprehend what that means. Vash is the only thing on this wretched ball of sand that I have ever loved. Everything that I have done has been solely for his benefit. How dare you question me?†He released her arm and collapsed back on the seat. “Drive,†he directed.

Without another word she turned to the steering wheel and put the pickup back in drive. He watched her for a moment longer, noting that tears had formed in her eyes and she was swallowing hard, but she did not cry. He retrieved the wet cloth from the seat where it had dropped when he'd assaulted her. With a sigh he placed it back on his forehead and closed his eyes.

They drove for another hour in silence. Knives attempted to gather his thoughts. He had to admit that the wet cloth and aspirin did seem to be helping. In about twenty minutes they were going to reach their destination, and Knives had to flesh out his plan. So far he'd completed phase one: Run. There were plenty of one-plant settlements in this area that he'd already driven the human inhabitants from. Most of his sisters in this region had been drained to the brink of death. At least he'd been able to save most of them. They were recuperating peacefully in their empty towns. But the second part of Knives' plan (and the limit of what he'd come up with so far) was to heal. He'd need a plant that was strong enough to offer some of her energy, and he knew of at least one that fit the bill.

Once they arrived however, he didn't know what he was going to do with the girl. It would be simple enough to end her miserable existence, but that would do little to serve his greater goal. He had been so certain, when he'd hunted down the last survivor of Rem's bloodline, that it would be enough to sever her hold on Vash. That particular course of action hadn't worked out as well as he'd hoped. In fact, it had been a disaster. Both he and his brother had nearly been killed. Vash would never forgive him if he slayed this pet of his now. And that would be something he could live with, if only he wasn't so sure he'd be creating another martyr to Vash's cause. No, if this woman died at the hand of a plant, it would only strengthen little brother's resolve.

He could give her back. As loathsome as the thought of allowing this abomination to continue defiling his twin was, surely it would only be a matter of time before the creature betrayed Vash. He could feel that she was frightened of Knives, and not just because of what he'd done, but of what he was. A plant. The same as Vash. Which meant she feared his twin's true nature as well. She was deluding herself, believing that she was in love with him. It couldn't last. Vash might be good at playing human, but it wasn't what he was. Once she figured that out, she'd break his heart. You'll never get close to them, Vash. They'll eat you alive if you keep trying. Just another lesson Vash would have to learn the hard way. And when he did, Knives would be there to clean up the mess.

Soon, they arrived. The woman drove the truck to the plant, just as he'd directed. He tried his legs and found that they weren't capable of holding his weight. If he didn't accept assistance from the human he'd be crawling inside. “Help me,†he ordered with as much dignity as possible.

She tucked her shoulders under his arm without complaint, wrapping a small arm around his waist. His feet all but dragged along the ground as she hefted his cumbersome weight towards the bulb. He slumped to the ground, laying his forehead on the bulb's surface, breathing hard with the exertion. “Sister...†he called out silently.

When he reached her, he was startled to find the plant was enraged. She rushed out from the center of the bulb and slammed her fist against the glass. Her pupil-less eyes were furious and dark, glowering with frightening intent at Knives. His brows creased in silent confusion and hurt. “I don't understand. Why...?â€

“You!†The plant seethed. She flooded his mind with images, her memories.

He was inside the bulb, a mother and child on the other side of the glass. “She's pretty isn't she?†the mother asked.

The child's small, pudgy hands were pressed against the invisible divider. He stared with wide, curious eyes. “Why is she in there?â€

The mother smiled, her hands resting gently on the little boy's shoulders. “She's working. It's thanks to her that you and mama and papa can live. She makes our meals, as well as many other things. Let's say thank you together.â€

The two forms bowed respectfully. “Thank you. Very much.â€

The child looked up again and pointed with an excited finger. An animated smile lit his small face. “Mama, look! She smiled!â€

Knives felt tears prick his eyes as the vision faded. He'd felt her emotions as if they were his own, the devotion, pride, even love. He met the furious gaze of his sister, and felt his heart ache with distress and confusion. “You... you're angry with me?â€

“You hurt them! You sent them away!†she accused.

“They were hurting you, sister,†he reasoned. “I had to make them stop.â€

“NO!!†Her fist beat angrily against the glass dividing them once more, and Knives winced.

“Please, I need your help. I'm hurt. I'm sick.†He pressed his palms against the surface of the bulb, and silently pleaded. He felt the plant's awareness drifting hastily over his body, taking inventory of his injuries. “Please, my sister.â€

Her expression softened slightly. The anger melted, leaving only a deep sadness behind. She was going to help him. He could already feel her energy gently beckoning him, her hands on the glass had begun the transmutation.

“What's going on?†Vash's pet spoke. He'd almost forgotten she was there.

He didn't spare her a glance. His energy was focused on the seemingly solid surface of the bulb. “It's none of your concern. Go. Do whatever you like.â€

Before Meryl's eyes, the glass between the hands of the two plants rippled and shifted, becoming less substantial until their fingers intertwined. Knives closed his eyes as the plant angel drew him into the bulb, the glass reforming behind him.

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As heartbreakingly beautiful as his time in 'heaven' had been, Wolfwood had to admit that being alive had its advantages. When Vash had first pulled him from the bulb, he'd felt a strange sadness, even a sense of loss. Reuniting with Millie had made him feel more than he had thought himself capable. Still, he initially felt odd. They'd just had that one night together, and his death had been one hell of a morning-after. He just wasn't sure what to say to her.

Of course, Millie had none of the same qualms or insecurities. It was like he'd always been there, that they'd never been apart. Her comfortable presence had soon set him at ease. He found himself falling into place like a formerly lost puzzle piece. It was just so damned natural. Him. Her.

She'd helped him bandage the new hole in his shoulder, and asked him if he wanted eggs. Yes, please, scrambled and dry. Tabasco? Why, it's like you can read my mind. He'd been eager to set off after Vash. The gunshot wasn't bad, and had stopped bleeding, after all. But Millie had suggested that he might want a bath first. And noting that the plant juice, or whatever it was he'd been covered in, had dried stiff and sticky, making his skin tight and hair crunchy, he'd been obliged to agree. Might as well rinse off the residue of rebirth before racing off to meet his death once more.

And so, he found himself in a large metal tub. The bathwater was pleasantly cool against the heat of the day, he had just lit a fresh smoke, and he was drinking a glass of water with, honest to God, ice in it. Living couldn't be sweeter.

“Hey,†Millie pushed the door open. She carried a bucket, and was wrapped in an over-sized robe that made her shoulders seem narrow in comparison. “How's the water?â€

She emptied the bucket of fresh water into the tub, and he felt suddenly shy, which was ridiculous considering, but still... “Uh, water's great.†He was pleased that his voice sounded even and casual. “What are you do...?â€

The words trailed off into silence as she untied the robe and let it slip to the floor. Had she always been this bold? Yes... and no, he remembered. He'd made the first move, but she'd never hesitated. Never regretted or played coy. He realized he was staring. Despite the ice water, his mouth felt very dry. She quirked an eyebrow at him and grinned. “It would be a waste to use all that water for just one person's bath, don't you think?â€

“Didn't you...†he groped for something coherent, “didn't you just tell me that you hit water at the well?â€

“Of course!†She slapped her forehead in mock-realization, picking her robe up off the floor. “I completely forgot. You're totally right. I'll just come back when you're done. Bye now, have fun!â€

She made as if she were going to leave and he stretched an arm over the side of the tub, catching her wrist. “Oh no, you don't!†She laughed and screamed as he pulled her into the water, sending waves crashing to the bathroom floor.

“Nicholas! You're making a mess!†she protested.

“You made me soak my cigarette.†He flicked the extinguished and soggy roll of paper across the room.

“Good.†She settled herself against his chest, carefully avoiding the injured shoulder. “You're mopping this up later, dear.â€

His laughter rumbled against her back. “Of course, honey.†She laid her head back, offering her mouth for a kiss, which he gratefully accepted. Anything this woman offered him was more than he deserved, but he wasn't about to turn that much goodness away, deserving or not.

She rolled over, the water taking some of her weight. She interlocked her fingers behind his neck, her expression turning serious, as she looked into his face. “You can't ever die again, okay? I don't think I could... do it twice. Lose you, I mean.â€

For a moment, he had a glimpse of her grief, and wondered how anyone could mourn him so deeply. Poor Millie, she had terrible taste in men. In fact, Meryl was probably the only woman alive with worse. “I'm so sorry.†He pushed a wet tendril of hair off her cheek. “I should have been more careful. I will be more careful. From now on.â€

She smiled, any hint of sorrow dissolving like a soap bubble. “Good! Then you won't have any objection to me coming with you after Mr. Vash.â€

“What?†His brows knit together. “That's not what I...â€

She pulled away from him and crossed her arms. “Meryl is my best friend. If any rescuing is going to happen, I'm going to be involved. And someone has to make sure you don't get yourself killed, and Mr. Vash has all ready proven inadequate at that particular task.â€

“Millie...â€

“Don't even try it.†She swatted his hand away as he reached for her. “It's my tracking device, and I'm going, and you should be glad I'm letting you come!â€

“Fine! Okay, you win! Just come here, alright?†She smiled triumphantly and settled back against him. Wolfwood scowled. “And for the record! It is absolutely against the rules to try and get your way when either of us is naked, but especially you!â€

She sighed and ran her fingers in lazy trails along his arm, the bath water beading and falling from her fingertips. “And why is that, dear?â€

“Because, honey,†he gritted, partly in frustration, and partly because he was stifling a groan at the gentle circles her fingers were tracing on his shoulder, “it's distracting.â€

She laughed, a deceptively girlish sort of giggle, and curled her hand in the damp hair at the nape of his neck. Her lips were nearly as soft as the legs that grazed his. Yeah, forget heaven: living couldn't be sweeter.

<><><><><><><>& lt;><>

When Meryl had first spotted Vash, on that morning when water had burst forth from the ground, showering her with the closest thing to rain she would ever see, she'd been so overwhelmed at the living, breathing sight of him, that she'd nearly broken an ankle in her anxiousness to close the space between them. She probably wouldn't have been able to stop herself from leaping into his arms, except for the fact that she'd realized he was holding something. Scratch that, holding someone.

In the days following, Vash had done a lot of explaining. You can't just spring the kind of stuff he had (not human, genocidal brother, over a hundred years old) on a girl, run out, and not expect to have a lot of clarifying to do. To his credit, he'd shared the information easily. She'd asked why he never told her before.

“Didn't want to get you involved, but it's a little late for that now,†he'd answered. While she didn't think he was lying, per se, she suspected that his secrecy hadn't just been for her protection. It had been for his, too.

“You could have told me, Vash. I would have understood.â€

He'd smiled, one of those rare ones, the one that reminded her of how children smile in their sleep. “I know that now. I just didn't... before.â€

And so, he'd told her: his childhood with Knives, how Rem had meant to keep them hidden, to take them into cold sleep with her until the ships found their new home. He'd even told her about Tessla, how Knives had changed, and the Fall had occurred.

It was a lot to take in. She was still having trouble with the part where Vash wasn't a human being. She'd grown up the daughter of a plant engineer. She could remember looking into the bulb as a child, seeking out its inner form with eager eyes. She'd thought that the plant angel was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. Maybe even more beautiful than Mom's face in the pictures she had of her. Her child's mind had thought that the angels the minister talked about in church, and the angel behind the glass were the same thing, and wondered how one could have gotten so far away from heaven. Trying to accept that the ethereal creature of her earliest memories, and Vash, were in fact the same species, was proving to be a bigger stretch than her mind wanted to truly accept. Having just seen Knives swallowed up into a bulb was, however, helping this reality settle in.

Knives hadn't killed her. In fact, he was letting her go. So, why wasn't she running for her life, putting as much distance as possible between herself and the greatest danger ever known to mankind?

Simple answer? It didn't feel like the right thing to do.

The last night she'd spent with Vash, that crazy night with the whiskey and the fireworks, after they'd both made a terrible mess of things, he'd finally gotten her back home in one piece. “Well, goodnight, Vash,†she'd said. They were just inside the house.

“Hey, can you wait here for a second? There's something I want to show you.â€

“Now?†It was late. She was exhausted.

“Yeah, just wait here. I really want to show it to you.†His eyes had taken on that big, childish look. Meryl was sure that the expression caused a chemical reaction in its viewer that made the utterance of the word 'no' physically impossible.

“Yeah, okay,†she'd relented. With a smile that was in and of itself reward for agreeing to whatever he asked, Vash had gone upstairs and returned with something in his hand. He'd undone a carefully wrapped, soft piece of cloth, revealing what looked like a photograph. “This is really old, so be careful.â€

He'd gingerly handed her a Polaroid. She'd recognized the format, her grandfather had kept a lot of old pictures that were like this. The photograph Vash had given her was well cared for, but he'd been a wanderer for a long time, taking his few possessions everywhere he went. The corners had looked a bit chewed and worn, but the colors were still bright. Meryl had gaped at the image. Two little boys stared back at her from the frame. They couldn't have been older than five or six, obviously twins. They looked into the lens of the camera with large eyes, deep pools of blue and turquoise. Their little bow mouths smiled sweet and unguarded.

Vash had looked over her shoulder at the picture. “Weird, right?â€

“No, I mean, kind of, but... oh my God. Vash. You're the most beautiful child I've ever seen.â€

He'd rested his chin on her shoulder and pointed to the little boys. “That's me. And that, is Knives.â€

The child he'd pointed to stood slightly behind his brother, as if comforted and protected by his presence. Vash had spoken softly, “He was the sweetest kid, Meryl. Kinder and more generous than I was. He used to drag me into the cold sleep chamber nearly everyday. He'd make up stories about the people asleep there, what their lives had been like, and what they'd do when we got wherever we were going. I think... I think that's why it was so hard for him when we found out what had happened to Tessla. It was like he'd given his whole heart to humanity.†His eyes had been wet as he took the photograph from her hand. “He wanted their acceptance more than anything.â€

It was difficult to correlate the gentle child Vash had described with the plant who'd just stepped into the bulb. Knives was cruel, brutal, and so angry. Meryl had never met anyone whose entire being screamed out with such rage. But she believed in Vash, and it was what he'd told her after he'd put the picture away that kept her from running now.

“I tried to kill him once.†Vash hadn't been able to look her in the eye as he confessed, his voice thick with tears. “Just after the Great Fall. I was going to bash his head in with a rock while he slept. But even... even knowing what he'd done, I couldn't. I couldn't do it, Meryl. I know, with everything he's done, all the people he's hurt or killed, that it must sound so stupid. But... it's not who he is! I know it's not.â€

Meryl hadn't known what to say. Impulsively, she'd wrapped her arms around him. She hadn't been able to find a comforting word, but she could hold him. And that's what she did while he cried his shame out on her shoulder.

Vash would never be all right until Knives was taken care of. He'd never have a fresh start, he'd never have a chance to be happy. If she walked away now, and Knives took off again, Vash wouldn't be able to rest until he saw this to its end. And God forbid, if Knives hurt anyone, Vash would never forgive himself for allowing it to happen. Logically, she knew there was nothing she could do to stop Knives. It was likely that he'd kill her the first chance he got. Still, she felt she had to be there. Giving up on Knives was like giving up on Vash, and she just couldn't bring herself to do that.

So, she waited. She was tired and hungry and thirsty. When Knives had forced her out of the house, she hadn't had time to change into proper traveling clothes. She was still wearing the tank top and thin cotton pants she'd had on when he'd first seized control of her muscles and forced her to his room. Driving through open desert under the suns had given her a terrible burn, and as the sky grew darker, she found herself shivering. She slept fitfully in the truck, and stood watch by the plant bulb for half of the next day. Finally, Knives emerged.

His clothing was gone and he was soaked in a liquid that looked thicker than water. It seemed to take a few moments for him to recognize his surroundings. Eventually, his eyes found their way to where she was now standing. His gaze fixed on her and his features grew dark. As she winced beneath eyes that made her flesh want to crawl away from her bones, Meryl was afraid she'd made a terrible mistake. He stalked toward her, fists clenched, voice an angry bark. “Why the hell are you still here?!â€

<><><><><>&l t;><><>
...to be continued...
<><><><><><> <><>
“Now review, spiders!†Quiet, Knives.... sheesh! They'll review if want to. “They'll do it if they know what's good for them.†Seriously, dude. Don't you have a species to eradicate or something? Give it a rest.