Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ After the Fall ❯ Blood ( Chapter 6 )

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, Knives/wouldn't-you-like-to-know
Genre:Deep Space Planet Future Gun Action
Rating:T- for violence, language, sexual content. Attention readers: This chapter is particularly gruesome out of the gate. In fact, Sugar Pill informed me that it made her lose her appetite for oreos, which I am assured is no easy feat. Please turn away if you are upset by gore.
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.
Summary: Last time: Knives sucker punched a girl! Then he tried to tell her that she was nothing more than an insignificant speck of not-Vash's-type. But did our girl stand for that? Hell, no! Screw that noise; she told Knives where he could (as Nightheart put it:) shove his pretensions. At which point, Knives was fully prepared to chop up some Meryl Champuru (try it with some wasabi, it's great!). Enter Vash! Who made a valiant effort at kicking his brother's butt, but after taking a bullet to the gut, had to change his tactics slightly: he begged. What's a conflicted psychopath to do? Simple: Step 1- Make sure everyone's unconscious. Step 2- Remember that leaving food and water for your helpless ex-hostage doesn't necessarily mean that you care (especially, if no one is awake to see you do it). Step 3- Get the hell out of Dodge.
A/N: This story is now past the 30,000 word mark! That deserves a 'woo' and also a 'hoo'. Hope you're all enjoying it. Thanks for sticking with me this far. Writing this story is a joy, but that joy is dwarfed by the even greater joy of hearing readers' reactions. THANK YOU!! You see that? All Caps, babies. That's how special you make me feel. Also, I love my betas. They are just so delicious that I can't properly describe them. Even though you all must tire of me trying.

Chapter 6: Blood

Vash touched her cheek, his fingertips wet with something thick and warm. Her eyes traveled down from his face to find his abdomen split open, coils of glossy, clouded insides falling into his lap. The sight of it, the smell, was more than she could understand.

'Eviscerated'-- her mind supplied the word she'd always found odd and never had the occasion to use. She tried to scream but found she couldn't. Instead her hands flew to his stomach, trying to push the spilling organs back inside.

He looked down in surprise. He drew his blood-wet hand back from her face and blushed. “Oops.”

He was sheepish, embarrassed, as if he'd spilled her coffee. As if his intestines weren't shiny and exposed, pushing past her oily, fumbling fingers. No. Oh God, no. Didn't he realize? Didn't he see he was dying?

Meryl was trembling. There was so much blood. So much. How could there be any left to color his cheeks? Her arms were slick with it to the elbow. He looked at her sadly, but he was still so calm. She had to make him understand before it was too late, but it was like she'd forgotten how to speak. Her mind found no words, her tongue was thick and drugged in her mouth. She stared into his eyes, willing him to recognize her distress.

“Forgive me?” he asked, his voice soft and unsure. How could he doubt her?

Anythingshe meant to say, Always, but he kissed her first. A mouthful of blood spilled past his lips, flooding over her tongue, choking her, salty and warm.

Meryl woke gasping. It wasn't blood in her mouth. She'd vomited while unconscious and was now dragging the thick fluid into her lungs as she struggled to breathe. She gagged, coughing violently and retching again as a large pair of hands rolled her to her side.

She was wretchedly disoriented. Her mind worked to catch up, remembering what had last happened before she blacked out, and trying to match that information with what her senses were telling her now. She felt hands on her back, a man's hands from the size and strength underneath the gentle grip. She could smell Vash.

“Vash.” She was glad to find that, while abused and rough, her voice still worked.

“Meryl? You okay?”

That wasn't Vash's voice. But she knew that voice, all the same. She turned as quickly as her throbbing head would allow, and looked at its owner. Instantly her eyes filled with tears. “I'm dead?”

Wolfwood frowned before he realized what she must be thinking. God, he was thick. What the hell else was she going to think, coming to after being passed out for God-knows-how-long, and the first thing she sees is a dead man's face? Ugh, where's Millie with that first aid kit?

“No, not dead,” he hurried to explain. “You're not dead. I'm not dead. No one is dead.”

Meryl's brow creased against the headache, and more so the confusion. The blanket wrapped around her was actually Vash's duster. That must have been why she could smell him. “What about Vash?”

“Well, he might be dead,” the priest considered honestly. At her look of abject horror, he amended, “but I doubt it.”

“Oh, Meryl!” Millie dropped to her knees next to her friend. She noted her fearful expression and gently brushed the hair from Meryl's eyes. “It's okay. You're safe. How are you feeling?”

Meryl caught Millie's hand as her fingertips grazed her forehead. She clutched it in both of hers, pressing the skin against her cheek. She was still so terribly confused, but part of her recognized it was safe to let go. She allowed herself the luxury of tears, even though it was selfish. She didn't know what had happened to Vash. She didn't have time to spare on this indulgence, but the few quiet tears she cried now couldn't be helped. She could only keep so much frustration, anger, fear, and relief inside before it forced its way out.

Millie gently tucked Meryl beneath her arm. She was usually so tough, and well, loud, that Millie sometimes forgot how small she really was. Her shoulders were so narrow. The little hands that gripped Millie's shoulders were half the size of her own. “I'm so happy to see you, Millie,” Meryl gratefully sighed.

With one last little squeeze, Meryl pulled away from the embrace. Millie recognized this as Meryl's way of letting her know that her display of vulnerability was over, and that they would never speak of this again. Meryl's eyes turned back to Wolfwood, as if she'd only just remembered it was strange for him to be there. “I don't understand. How are you...?”

“It's a very, very long story...”

“He got healed in the Carcasses plant bulb!” Millie chimed in.

“Apparently, not that long,” Wolfwood sighed.

“Oh,” Meryl responded lamely. Suddenly her head popped up as she realized, “You're what Vash was going to pick up!”

Wolfwood touched his nose. “Bingo.”

“That jerk!” Meryl brought her hand to her mouth, a sharp pain cutting through it as she attempted to yell. Why...? Oh that's right, she'd been punched in the face. Split lip. Missing tooth. Oh and, really bad swelling.

“Careful, Sempai!” Millie dampened a square of gauze with antiseptic and gently dabbed at the corner of Meryl's mouth. It came back red and brown with dried blood.

Meryl had never been in pain like this. Besides her mangled jaw, there was the pulsating pain that seemed to be originating in the center of her skull. She supposed that being choked to unconsciousness could have that effect on a brain. Then, there was the nausea, which wasn't helped by the fact that the inside of her mouth tasted like puke and old blood. Her throat was so sore that it practically screamed. She was sure there was a nice bruise in the shape of a hand across the front of it as well.

As the fog of confusion began to lift, she realized there was really only one question that had any importance whatsoever, “Where is Vash?”

Wolfwood lit a cigarette. And though she hadn't seen him in over two months, Meryl quickly recognized it as a gesture he used to mask his distress. “Dunno. Not here. The jeep--”

“-- the stolen jeep--” Millie added.

Wolfwood quirked an eyebrow, but continued undaunted, “--is still outside though.”

“Didn't you come with him?” Meryl asked.

Millie answered, “Gosh, no. In fact, Mr. Vash shot Nicholas just so we wouldn't follow.”

Meryl turned to the priest with a gasp. “Bastard,” Wolfwood groused as confirmation.

“But I put that old tracking device in his pocket before he left and it led us to you,” Millie finished.

“Is there a pickup truck outside?” Meryl asked.

“No, but there are tire tracks leading north,” Wolfwood said.

“He must be with Knives then. We have to go after them.” Meryl tried to rise from the ground, but Wolfwood stopped her with a firm hand.

“Not happening. Satellite says there've been sandstorms cutting back and forth across that whole area for weeks. Even if we risked it, I'm sure the tracks are already covered. Besides,” he pointedly looked at Meryl's swollen and discolored face, “you need a hospital, and a dentist.”

“Like hell, I do!” Meryl knocked away his hand as he tried again to prevent her from standing. She managed to get to her feet, Vash's duster hanging like a tent over her small frame. “I'm going after him, and if you're too chicken-shit, you can stay here or go home, or... or... go to hell, for all I care!!”

She turned on her heel with a huff, gathering the dragging tails of the coat with as much grace as she could. “Come on, Millie!”

She hadn't walked more than two steps before she found herself tossed over a broad, black-clad shoulder. “Put me down, you jerk!”

Her arms were bound by the duster, so beating on his back or hitting him in the head was out of the question. She had to settle for kicking, which proved difficult considering the priest had an arm wrapped strongly across the backs of her legs. She looked up to see her junior partner following. “Millie!”

“Sorry, Sempai.” Millie said meekly. Wolfwood kept walking as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

“Traitors! Dammit, I said put me down!” All this squirming and bouncing around was making Meryl feel sick and lightheaded.

“Hey! Knock it off!” Wolfwood commanded as one of the small feet kicking near his waist came dangerously close to more delicate anatomy. “You have any idea what Vash would do to me if I didn't get you to a doctor?”

“You should be more worried about what I'm going to do to you! You chain-smoking, cowardly, undead...” She broke off suddenly with a moan. She was going to be sick.

Wolfwood seemed to anticipate this, as he immediately, and smoothly, set her back on the ground. He soothed a hand back and forth between her shoulder blades, in a gesture that was startlingly tender considering the source.

With her stomach truly and utterly empty, Meryl paused to catch her breath. She was bent at the waist, her head hanging forward, hands resting on her knees. Wolfwood's hand stilled comfortingly on her shoulder. He leaned in close and spoke gently. “It's killing me too,” he told her, “but there's nothing we can do for Vash right now. And we've got to get you fixed up one way or another.”

Meryl wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. “What if...”

“Don't start thinking like that, Sempai.” Millie offered Meryl a canteen to rinse her mouth. “I'm sure Mr. Vash will be just fine.”

“You can't know that.”

Millie considered her response carefully. She didn't know the details of what had happened to Meryl since she'd last seen her, but it had obviously been brutal. Her partner needed reassurance and a hospital, not a headful of 'what if's. The truth was that Millie was not at all sure that Mr. Vash would be just fine.

Millie and Wolfwood had followed the tracker signal without much difficulty. Thank goodness the device had one heck of a range. Bernardelli might have been stingy when it came to traveling expenses, but it turned out that their equipment was top of the line. When the signal had stopped moving, they were still hours away from its location. By the time they'd reached the plant, Wolfwood had been strung as tightly as a bow, and Millie's stomach had been turning somersaults. When they'd finally gone inside, it became apparent that all their anxiety at facing a conflict was for nothing. They'd found Meryl, and a pool of blood. No Knives. No Vash.

Although Meryl would have bled from her injuries, there was no way a split lip and a missing tooth were responsible for the amount of blood they'd found. Couple that with finding Vash's jacket, and there weren't a lot of attractive conclusions to be reached.

Wolfwood had moved Meryl. She was still unconscious, but breathing steadily, and he hadn't wanted her waking up and seeing half of the blood in Vash's body splattered on the ground. Of course Millie had been worried about her partner, and felt that she should be attending to her, but she hadn't been able to move. She'd stared at the thick red puddles, trying to make sense of what she saw, hoping against all odds...

“What do you think?” Millie had asked the priest when he reappeared at her side, knowing she probably wouldn't like his theories any better than her own.

“Well...” He'd paused, taking a moment to fish his pockets for a cigarette. “We didn't find a body.”

Millie had suspected he'd meant that to be encouraging; she hadn't found it to be so. She'd wished he'd take off those stupid sunglasses so she could see his eyes. He was hard to read when he chose to be. “Nicholas?”

“Hmm?”

“What else are you thinking?”

He hadn't looked at her, just stared at the ground. It'd been hot, even though they were out of the suns. He'd batted a fly away from his face, a stray from the buzzing swarm around the blood. He'd turned, walking back in the direction where he'd moved Meryl. “Nothing,” he'd said dismissively. “Go get that first aid kit, will ya? I'll see if I can wake her up.”

Millie had let it go at the time, and he'd pretended he didn't know she was letting him slide. He'd been protecting her, Millie realized. Knowing just how concerned he was wouldn't help her or Vash. Better to try and be positive. And though she abhorred lying, Millie was about to extend the same merciful deception to Meryl now.

“How can you know he's alright, Millie?” Meryl asked again.

Millie put on her best smile. “Sempai! This is Mr. Vash we're talking about! He always turns up sooner or later, and all our worrying turns out to be for nothing, so I'm just not going to worry at all this time!”

Meryl smiled weakly, still worried out of her mind, but beginning to see the wisdom in medical attention. “Okay,” she relented. “Hospital, then we find Vash.”

“Deal!” Millie hugged her friend, smiling triumphantly. “Besides, the three of us are old pros at tracking down Mr. Vash. He couldn't lose us if he tried!”

“Which he has,” Wolfwood smirked, “repeatedly.”

Meryl offered him another wane smile. He offered his arm, but she shook her head, walking towards their vehicle on her own two feet. At least, that had been her intention. As soon as she stepped away from Wolfwood a wave of faintness took the strength right out of her legs.

“Has anyone ever pointed out what a stubborn, pain in the ass you are?” Wolfwood asked conversationally as he scooped her up.

Meryl sighed heavily. She hated this. Hated being this useless. “I just want to get this over with so we can go find Vash.”

Wolfwood helped her into one of the jeeps outside. “Whose car is this?” Meryl asked.

“The McLeods',” Millie answered. “Mac was awful nice about lending it to us. How'd you get here with Knives?”

“I, um... sort of stole a pickup.”

“Meryl!” Millie exclaimed as she slid into the driver's side. Wolfwood laughed appreciatively from his seat in the back.

“Knives told me to get a vehicle and I didn't know what else to do!” She defended.

“So, shorty,” Wolfwood raised a questioning eyebrow above the frame of his glasses, “how's it you know how to steal trucks in the first place?”

Meryl sunk down into the jacket, willing herself to disappear. “There is no power on this planet that will make me give you the details of that story, Wolfwood.”

“A story, huh?” He leaned forward, grinning wickedly. Meryl grumbled and tried to ignore him, taking several of the painkillers Millie offered her. “Are you sure? I bet it's a good one. I still got that confessional if you have sins to unload, my child.”

Meryl whipped around in her seat. “No Power On This Planet!!” The fast turn and the yelling brought on a new agony of pain. She groaned.

“Okay, I'm sorry,” he soothed, raising his hands appeasingly between them.

He noted Millie was giving him a mean look in the rearview as well. 'New subject!' her eyes said.

Wolfwood cleared his throat, “Anyway, what I need to know, is what happened back there.”

Millie's eyes rolled as he watched them in the mirror. “She'll tell us later,” she said firmly, “after she sees a doctor.”

“No, it's okay, Millie. I'm okay.” Meryl leaned her head back, enjoying what coolness the moving air offered. “I'll tell you now.”

<><><><><><><&g t;<><>

At the very moment Meryl woke up, and found herself looking into the face of a man who was supposed to be dead, another man was coming to in a pickup, about fifty iles north, and wishing he was. Vash tried to look around, but found himself unable to focus his eyes. He closed them again and tried to assess his current situation using his other senses.

He was in the bed of a truck. He could tell by the movement and the feel of the surface beneath his back. It was daylight, but what day, he couldn't be sure. He heard the slide of a window above his head and tried to open his eyes again, catching a glimpse of Knives before the light forced them shut.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Knives called over his shoulder from the driver's seat, with mock-pleasantry. “And how are we feeling?”

Vash tried to speak, but could only manage a muffled, unintelligible croak.

“Talk like this, dullard,” Knives said telepathically. “It won't hurt.”

Vash begged to differ. His head was killing him. “I'm going to kill you.”

Knives laughed. Apparently he liked the sound of his own voice too much to keep it in his head. “Of course, brother. Anytime you'd like to try. You want me to pull over now?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that's just stupid. Even for you. You can't even move.” He sounded less amused.

“Pull over and watch me.”

“If you don't mind, Vash,” Knives said, his voice carefully conversational, “I'm trying to outrun a sandstorm at the moment, so why don't you rest up for awhile and you can kill me later.”

Vash tried to sit up, to look out the back and see if there really was a storm. The moment he so much as tried to twitch a muscle, however, every nerve between his neck and groin screamed in protest.

“I'm not bandaging that wound again if you open it back up,” Knives threatened. “You can bleed to death for all I care.”

Vash groaned but lay still. “I hope I do.”

“What?”

“Bleed to death.”

“Ingrate.” Knives looked straight ahead. Vash could feel the truck accelerating. After a moment Knives added, “I didn't kill her.”

A little flame of hope sprang to life in his chest. “What?”

“Your human pet. Not dead.” At Vash's sigh of relief, Knives made an annoyed snort. “You still want to kill me? You still want to die?”

“Where is she?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know? She was still breathing when I left her. What else do you want?”

Vash didn't care if his guts were on fire. He was going to choke the life out of his brother. “You abandoned her in the desert!?”

Knives rolled his eyes. “Calm yourself. If she can't get home with food, water, a vehicle, and that fancy coat of yours, she deserves to be dead.”

Vash wasn't sure he'd heard him correctly. “You left supplies for her?”

Knives ignored the question. His voice reflected his mounting irritation. “It's her own fault anyway! You know I let her go? She could have been long gone by the time I got out of that bulb!”

Vash didn't know if he was more surprised that Meryl hadn't run, or that Knives had given her the opportunity to in the first place. “Why, Knives?”

“Shut up and go back to sleep, moron! I can't concentrate with your babbling!” Knives began to speak telepathically to save himself yelling over the whistling pitch of the wind. Vash noted that the truck seemed to be moving at an even greater speed than before. They probably were running from a sandstorm. “You know, when you shot me, I didn't complain the whole way out of the desert.”

Vash laughed and wished he hadn't; it hurt like hell. “You were unconscious!”

“An attribute I wish you'd strive for.”

Vash waited a beat. Then he asked, “Where are we going?”

“I told you to shut up!”Knives roared, his patience clearly spent. “One more word and I'm dumping you. You can take your chances with the sandstorm!”

Vash would have liked to argue more. In his current condition, annoying Knives was about the only vengeance he could extract. And he really wanted to know what had happened to Meryl. Was Knives telling the truth? Why would she stay if he'd let her go? He was exhausted, though. His body was practically commanding him to sleep. That deep sleep that came on whenever he was seriously injured. Talking telepathically, trying to focus his mind and thoughts, had worn him out as well. He tried to stay awake, but it was too much. If the sandstorm managed to catch them, he probably wouldn't even feel it.

The last thing he wondered, before darkness overwhelmed the edges of his mind, was what Meryl was doing.

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

“So, how 's our girl?” Wolfwood asked Millie, as she slipped quietly out of Meryl's room. He'd been chased out by a nurse nearly an hour ago, but somehow Millie had weaseled her way into being allowed to stay. Damned, puppy-dog eyes. All she had to to was say, 'please,' while his attempts at charming the nurse had landed him a spot on a bench outside.

“Well, she's got an IV in. She was pretty dehydrated. She's banged up, obviously. But the doctor says she mostly just needs some rest.” Millie sat down tiredly on the bench beside him. “She thinks that what happened to Vash is her fault. That if she'd just run when she had the chance, he wouldn't have gotten hurt.”

He eyed her cautiously. “And how do you feel?”

Her normally smiling mouth was turned in a slight frown. “I keep thinking that I should have been there. That I should have done something when I first found she was gone. This shouldn't have happened to her.” Wolfwood huffed irritably, and Millie turned in confusion. “What?”

“She feels guilty. You feel guilty. Hell, I feel guilty because I didn't go after Vash right away. And I know it's terrible, but I'm relieved as hell that Knives didn't take you.” He raked a hand through his hair, sending the dark strands into disarray. Millie suddenly realized how exhausted he must be.

“That's not terrible.” She smiled gently. “Seeing what this is doing to Meryl makes me grateful that you're okay, and that I have you here with me. And this isn't your fault.”

“No. It's Vash's fault.”

Millie's brow creased. “Don't say that.”

“And why not? It's true.” He finally turned to her. His words were angry and damning, but his eyes gave away his concern. “I'm gonna beat the piss out of him next time I see him.”

Millie smiled knowingly. At least he was talking about next times. “You wanna tell me what you're thinking about?”

He pensively put a cigarette between his lips, but stopped before lighting it, as if he'd only just remembered they were in a hospital. “When we found Meryl... someone wrapped her in that duster.”

Millie nodded. “And there was food and water right by her feet. Someone left it for her.”

“So... the sixty billion double-dollar question...”

“Is 'who'.”

“And 'why'.”

“Do you think it was Mr. Vash?”

Wolfwood shook his head. “At first, I thought that was a possibility. I figured Spiky might've beaten Knives and decided he had to take him somewhere safe, away from other people. So being the dumbass that he is, he left some supplies for Meryl and took off.”

“But you don't think that anymore?”

“No. I never really believed that. Just kind of hoped. Needle noggin' that he can be, Vash wouldn't have left Meryl like that. And from what she told us, Knives had him beat. That blood we found was Vash's. And that injured, I doubt he was even conscious. So that only leaves Knives to take care of Meryl, and that just doesn't make any sense.”

“Do you think Mr. Vash is still alive?”

Wolfwood rubbed his eyes. “I honestly don't know. Knives is unpredictable. I mean, he assembles a team of the most capable assassins in the world and sends them after his brother, but then he hires me to make sure they don't actually succeed. He kidnaps Meryl, then lets her go, only to bash her face in later? And if he is the one who left those things for her... I just don't get it.”

“Well, I don't think Mr. Knives would kill him.” The conviction in her voice made him turn, curiously studying her expression. “Mr. Vash told me that he was going to save his brother. And I still believe him.”

Wolfwood blinked incredulously at her certainty. She smiled warmly. “How do you do that?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“All the things I can't, like it's no big deal.”

She laughed and lifted his arm, cuddling closer to him beneath it. “I don't do the things you can't, silly. I just do the things you haven't tried.”

He tightened his arm around her, resting his cheek on the top of her head. “Well, stop it,”he scolded fondly. “It's extremely irritating.”

She reached an arm across him to catch his hand in hers. She gave it a light squeeze before asking, “So what now? How do we find him?”

“We wait. The minute we hear of a sighting, or any sort of lead, we check it out. That's how I found him the last time I lost him.”

“Yeah, that's usually how we find him too.” She disentangled herself enough to look up at him. “What'll we do while we wait?”

“Distract Meryl? Though, I don't even know if that's possible. Once she gets her mind set on something...”

“Preaching to the choir, Father,” Millie interrupted with the voice of one who had long-suffered. “I know all about it.”

“Yeah, I'll bet,” he laughed. “I would like to see about my orphanage though. I've been away too long.”

“Where is it?”

“Some crummy town at the edges of the Outer. Unfortunately, it's the best I could manage at the time.”

Millie sat up straighter and smiled brightly at him. The look in her eyes made him a little nervous. “Millie? What are you thinking?”

“Ever thought about moving the orphanage? I know a place that would be perfect!”

“Where?” he asked guardedly.

Her eyes practically sparkled. “Have you ever been to September?”