Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Life Thereafter ❯ Arctic Blue ( Chapter 5 )

Disclaimer:How I wish I owned Trigun. Sadly, I own it not.

 

A/N:I'm spoiling you guys. I actually got a little over 2000 words with this! Go me!

 

 

Arctic Blue

 

“Hey, baby!” a slurred voice said. Upon feeling an invasive touch near her backside, there was only one reasonable response...

WHAM!

Meryl Stryfe brought down the tray she was holding directly over the drunk's head. The man collapsed on the floor, moaning incoherently. Luckily (for him), no plates or glasses had been resting on the tray when he had attempted that little stunt.

Meryl stepped over the man's prone form, nostrils flaring, murder in her eyes. Her small form radiated such a “do-no-mess-with-me-or-I-WILL-hurt-you” attitude that men made way for her. As she looked down at the tray she had been carrying, she noted the huge dent in its metal. Her only regret was she had wasted a perfectly good tray on a scumbag like that.

She groused a bit to herself silently. That hadn't even been the first time this week that that had happened. If memory served, that was the third time in two days that she had been groped. Men never learned. For some reason, they seemed to have some bizarre idea that the end result would eventually be different from getting knocked unconscious. Of course, even a few weeks ago there had been more groping. Some of the smarter men appeared to be taking the hint.

“Bent another one out of shape, huh?”

Meryl set her now-useless tray on the bar before turning to face the one addressing her.

“Yeah,” Meryl sighed. “They just can't seem to get it through their thick heads that groping a woman is not the way to her heart.” She grimaced. “Sorry about the tray, Mr. Johnson.”

A short, portly man with short brown hair and twinkling blue eyes laughed. “How many times do I have to tell you to just call me Sam?

“Sorry.”

He smiled. “Don't worry about it, Meryl! You're the hardest worker here that I have. I'm not going to get bent out of shape just because you messed up a tray, although you do go through a lot. Nice shot, by the way.”

Meryl chuckled. It was true enough that she went through a lot of trays. “Thanks.”

Sam rubbed his chin. “You'd think they'd be more careful around you since you're Vash the Stampede's woman.”

Meryl gaped at him. She was Vash's WHAT?

Seeing the expression on her face, Sam looked at her quizically. “What? Is that not true?”

“NO!” Meryl spluttered. “He's just...we're just...”

“Ah, I see...”

“We're just friends!”

“Close friends?” he asked mischeviously.

“Yes! I mean, no!” Meryl spluttered again. “I mean... Ugh! I don't know what I mean!”

Sam began to laugh heartily, his pot belly shaking a little. “Hahaha! Meryl, I think you better stop before I have a heart attack from laughing!”

Meryl's face reddened a little. Why did her emotions always have to go haywire whenever Vash was mentioned? It was so aggravating!

Sam wiped tears of laughter from his eyes, still chuckling a little. “Well, young lady, you can't deny that when Vash first returned to this town, no man would lay a finger on you. But, since no one has seen the Humanoid Typhoon much at all, with you or even alone, in the past month, men think they can grope you all they want. The number has only been decreasing because you've been knocking them all silly!”

Meryl blinked. Was that why men had groped her very little when Vash returned? She had noticed afterwards that the number of gropers increased about a week later, then decreased in this past week. Did people really think she was Vash's woman? Why her? They could have just as easily picked Millie to be Vash's woman!

No, they couldn't, her other side said confidently.

And why is that?

You really are dumb if you need me to spell it out for you all the time.

Hmph. Fine, keep your secrets.

Oh, I will. In the meantime, you should concentrate on seeing what's right in front of your nose.

I can see just fine!

I'm not talking about physically seeing.

What?

“Meryl? Are you alright?”

She blinked. “Oh! Yes, I'm fine!” she said, a smile plastered on her face.

Sam scrutinized her for a moment before nodding, a knowing look on his face. “Well, it's just about 10 PM. Why don't you head home, Meryl?”

“Are you sure, sir? My shift doesn't end for another hour.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “I think it's the least I can do for my hardest worker. Now, shoo!”

Meryl smiled as she untied her apron and hung it from her hook on the wall. “Goodnight, Mr. Johnson! I'll see you tomorrow!”

“Goodnight!” he called back from the bar. “And call me, Sam!”

Meryl stepped out into the cool night air, savoring it. The day's heat had melted into the night's refreshing cold. She pulled her jacket a little closer about her, feeling a slight chill.

As she walked, she pondered what her boss had told her. He wasn't the type to lie or deceive. He had been kind enough to let her keep her job, even after discovering who Vash was. He was kind to her in almost a fatherly manner. She appreciated his kindness greatly.

Sam Johnson was an understanding man, to be sure. He didn't even deduct it from her pay when she damaged his trays hitting men over the head with them. He merely laughed, saying they deserved it. He often complimented her on how good a hit she made. He liked to tease her, too. Still...

The cool breeze slipped through her black hair. It had grown in the month since Vash had returned. She ran her fingers through it absently. Since settling down in this town, there had been no need to cut it regularly. Of course, she still reported to the Bernardelli Insurance Society, but they were content to let her stay and watch over Vash the Stampede, even though he seemed to have turned over a new leaf.

“Better safe than sorry,” they had told her.

Meryl sighed, her feet silently marking the dusty road to the house. Vash's return seemed so long ago. A month wasn't such a long time, though. Things had changed somewhat, too. Millie wasn't working at the well anymore, though. She now worked in the fields with other men. It saddened Meryl that several men had asked Millie out, but she had politely declined each one. It would seem that her friend still dwelled on her lost priest.

Vash, of course, was the same old Vash. He still scarfed donuts, whined, and made a general racket around the house. Yet, he was spending an increasing amount of time in the bedroom with his brother. He slept there, spent most of his day there, and even took his meals in there. And each time he DID come out of the room, he seemed so solemn. Naturally, he tried to cover it up with his goofy nature, but Meryl was convinced that was just a cover.

He doesn't want us to know he's worried, Meryl thought.

It was true. Vash seemed to be preoccupied with something whenever he ventured out of the room. It didn't take much imagination to guess what was wrong.

Knives, Meryl thought darkly.

It was true. Knives had not woken yet. A month since his defeat, and still no response. His wounds had nearly healed (after much dedicated care from Vash, of course). The wounds in his arms had all but disappeared. His leg wounds, however, were healing at a much slower pace. At this point, even if he woke up, he would not be able to stand.

Plus, despite her refusal to sit in the room with Knives, Meryl had helped Vash with the bandages on occasion. It made her uncomfortable, though, because each time she entered the room, Knives would smirk. Not a large smirk, but he would still smile in a way that made her feel uneasy. If Vash noticed, he didn't say, but he did try to make sure that she left the room as soon as possible.

Meryl unlocked the door to the house and stepped inside. The lights were off, casting the room in shadow. Meryl jumped a little when she felt something brush up against her leg. She smiled slightly as she saw Kuroneko rubbing up against her. The cat seemed to be the only non-moody one in the house.

Meryl tiptoed up the stairs towards her room. Millie's door was closed so she assumed her friend was asleep. The only light came from underneath the crack underneath the door to Vash and Knives's room. Meryl frowned slightly, wondering what Vash was doing up.

She cracked the door open slightly to get a better view. Vash was slumped over Knives's bed, asleep and snoring softly. As she pushed the door open, she did so as slowly as possibly to prevent it from creaking.

As Meryl edged her way through the slightly open door, her eyes took in the room. It was a mess. Clothing (probably Vash's) was strewn all about, making it difficult to find a place for her to walk on the wooden floor. Also, first aid items such as bandages were also draped all over the place. The only non-cluttered space was the bed itself.

Meryl shook her head. Vash really could be quite a slob. Then, she began to tidy the room as best she could. It took her about half an hour, but she did manage to make the place look more presentable. Putting all the first aid items and Vash's clothes away had certainly improved the place. Yet, as she scrutinized the floor and furniture, it was clear that someone would have to sweep, mop, and dust.

She straightened, brushing herself off. From his seat, Vash stirred a little. Meryl looked at him, feeling a slight nudge to her heart for him. He looked so haggard. Well, maybe haggard was too strong a word, but he still looked a little worn. His hair, usually spikey, hung limply in his face. His face was a bit pale and drawn, and he had bags underneath his eyes. Clearly, watching over Knives and awaiting his awakening had cost Vash some sleep.

Meryl felt a twinge of sadness for him. He showed such devotion to his brother. He really did. Yet all his brother seemed to do was cause Vash grief. First by causing the Great Fall and killing Rem Saverem, then by causing the destruction of July and Augusta, chasing after him with the Gung-Ho Guns, and then, finally, by forcing Vash to break his vow to never kill by giving him no other choice but to pull the trigger on Legato Bluesummers. And now Knives was causing Vash grief by refusing to wake up!

It made Meryl's blood boil. This monster, this evil monster was the one who deserved to suffer! Not Vash! Still, Vash continued to cling to his hope that Knives would reform. And honestly, Meryl knew that it wasn't her place to tell Vash otherwise.

Meryl sighed. Looking at Vash, she made a decision.

She shook his shoulder gently. “Vash?”

“Nnngh...” he said.

“Vash,” she said again, this time a little more forcefully.

“Huh?” He looked up at her with sleep-blurred eyes. “What is it, Meryl?”

“Listen, why don't you go get some rest? I'll...I'll watch Knives tonight.”

Vash blink. “Are you sure you want to do that, Meryl?”

She took a deep breath. “Yes, Vash. Now go to bed.”

Vash yawned and stood, stretching his tall frame. “Alright then, Meryl. But if you need me,” he intoned, a dangerous glint in his eye, “you call me. Ok?”

That wasn't a request... “Of course, I will, Vash.”

Vash nodded before exiting the room.

Meryl pulled the hard, wooden chair back a bit from the bed and sat down, watching Knives warily. He wasn't smirking. In fact, he looked quite serene. It was sometimes difficult to keep in mind that this man...no, PLANT was capable of destroying civilization. When he was like this, it was hard to hate him, especially because of his resemblence to Vash.

A frown marred Meryl's smooth features as she sat back in her chair, arms folded over her chest. She disliked him. She disliked Knives. That went without saying, despite his looks. She couldn't explain it, but he just seemed to radiate malice. Even his handsome features couldn't mask it.

She yawned. It was getting late. Still, she had to stay awake. She had to watch him.

She yawned again. I'll just rest my eyes for a minute...

Meryl's head jerked up. Sunshine was beaming through the window. She rubbed her eyes. Then, she realized what had happened.

She had fallen asleep in Knives's room! Was she insane? Did she have a death wish? Who cared if he hadn't woken once in a month? Who cared if he was still injured? She had to be out of her mind!

Meryl stood up hastily. Yet, something kept her from fetching Vash. As she surveyed Knives, she noticed that one of his bandages had come loose. She bit her lip, debating whether or not she should do something about it.

I supposed it couldn't hurt...

As she bent over to tighten the bandage, she suddenly felt something clamp over her throat! It tightened, determined to cut off her air supply. Her eyes widened fearfully as she saw it was a hand.

She looked up, only to see Knives, his face twisted in a snarl, his eyes boring into her.

They were arctic blue...

 

 

Muahaha! A cliffhanger! Don't you just love `em? Anyways, Knives is not here with me today because he is now in the story. I'm all alone...

Vash: I'm here!

Hurray!

Vash: How am I here, though?

Well, when you are in the realm of the subconscious, you may speak with me, the omnipotent authoress.

Vash: HUH?

Nevermind.