Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Roots ❯ Roots ( One-Shot )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

A/N: I took some artistic license with Vash in this story; he's about 10% Manga!Vash and about 90% Anime!Vash. You'll see why. If it's all just a pinch out of continuity... well, we can all live with that, no?

Thanks to http://ein.itgo.com/index.html for the translation of the Trigun Bonus Track where I picked up Vash's nicknames.

Thanks also to Jaina and Grey for the beta read!
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The sun had barely risen a finger's width over the horizon when Vash the Stampede, also known as the Humanoid Typhoon, also also known as Rooster-Rouser, Sunday Kid, and the Man who Moves the Morning, cracked open one eye. By his internal clock, it was just about That Time to get up for the morning meditation and three-hour workout session. Most uncharacteristically, that same eye that opened to look at the morning shut just as quickly, and Vash buried his head back in the pillow, grumbling a little and pulling the blankets up.

The dark head on the neighboring pillow had more than a little to do with Vash's profound irritation at his internal clock for waking him up right on time. Even the legendary Stampede didn't deal well with not enough sleep, and considering the events of the previous night, he and Meryl both had gone to bed far too late. Or, perhaps, one might say that they had gone to bed early, which had led to falling asleep too late.

Not that Vash was complaining.

For a desert planet, the mornings sure were chilly, he thought. Then again, it probably didn't help that neither of them was wearing a single thread of clothing, so of course things were colder than usual. However, Vash had learned in the month or so since he and Meryl had become lovers that there were definite benefits to having someone else to warm the sheets with you. Aside from the obvious fun, there was another body to snuggle with when you were cold.

Meryl was sound asleep, and her shoulders rose and fell slightly with every breath. Vash pulled his pillow closer and nestled up against her, then worked an arm around her waist and settled her against his chest. She stirred a little but didn't wake up, and, contented, Vash fell into a comfortable light doze.

The next thing he heard was the unwelcome ring of an alarm clock, announcing that it was seven o'clock and therefore Time to Get Up. Next to him, Meryl groaned, and Vash reached out to smack the clock before she could wake up completely and decide to move. He felt very warm and peaceful and happy, and another thing he'd learned about the short girl next to him was that once the bell rang, it was, in her opinion, time to get out of bed. Immediately.

Vash had found ways to change that. Sometimes they didn't get up until nearly eight, if he was lucky. They weren't sleeping, but he wasn't complaining about that, either.

"Did the alarm just go off?" Meryl raised her head and blinked drowsily. "Vash?"

"Hmmm." Vash tightened his grip on her waist and nuzzled the back of her neck. "We don't have to get up right away, do we?"

Meryl wriggled against him and tried to slip away from his restraining arm. "It did go off, didn't it? Of course it did," she said, answering her own question. "Let go. It's time to get up and make breakfast."

"We don't have to. I can make breakfast for you and Milly. Stay here." Vash started to press light kisses against her back. She liked that, he knew. He liked it, too.

"Stop that." Meryl swatted ineffectually at Vash. "You're not allowed to cook any more. You can barely handle cold cereal!"

"Cold cereal is good, don't you think?" Light kisses deepened to an openmouthed taste of the skin on her neck.

"What are you do-... ahhh." Vash felt Meryl relax against him, and he mentally declared victory. His elation was short-lived as she redoubled her efforts to get away. "I know what you're up to, and you can stop it right now! We did it last night!"

Vash grinned at the memory. "Yeah."

"Twice!"

His smile got wider. "Yeah. But it's been a whole six hours!"

"You're insatiable." An elbow connected with Vash's solar plexus, and the air rushed out of his lungs in a whoosh. His arm suddenly went limp, and Meryl ducked out and away.

"You could really hurt someone like that," Vash groaned. He rolled onto his back and coughed. "A solid hit there can kill, you know?"

"I didn't hit you that hard," Meryl sniffed, with the air of someone who had no real concept of how hard she actually did hit. She scooped her nightshirt up off the floor and threw it over her head, much to Vash's disappointment. "It's your own fault for being such a layabout. Furthermore-"

"All right, all right, I'll get up," Vash sighed, hoping to stem the tide of yet another Meryl lecture. It was just as well, he thought, and pulled clean underwear out of the drawer. In his current state, all he was fit for was a long shower, and a cold one at that.

The workout never varied. Thirty minutes of warm-up and stretching exercises, then fifty crunches just to begin. One hundred normal push-ups, one hundred tiger push-ups, fifty one-armed headstand push-ups. Then, an assortment of concentration methods. Last, another set of crunches, this time one hundred repetitions, and a long cool-down. It wasn't always enjoyable, but being in top physical shape had saved Vash's butt more than once, and just because Knives wasn't in a position to chase him halfway around the world anymore didn't mean he was going to go lax.

Besides, sometimes he caught Meryl sneaking around in the hallway to catch a glimpse, and anything that encouraged her interest in him was worth taking up. One time, she had even come in at the end of his workout with a sly smile on her face, but once she had gotten close enough to Vash's personal space, she had frog-marched him into the shower and refused to join him. For a while, anyway.

Vash finished an extended stretch over one leg and flopped back onto the floor, exhaling in one long sigh. No Meryl today, unfortunately. She had said something over breakfast about needing to go into town, so perhaps she was out. It wasn't much fun to be looking for attention and not have anyone around to supply it. Pouting, Vash picked up his towel and went to wash off.

He skulked around the house for a while until Meryl came back, carrying two bags that were almost as large as she was. Vash appeared instantly and took the larger of the two bags from her. "You're back!" he said, doing his best to look like he'd been lonely. "Where were you?"

"I told you this morning that I had to go shopping," Meryl said, hefting the second bag onto the counter. "Don't you remember?"

"Mmph." As far as he could remember, he had been far more preoccupied with coffee.

"I'm not surprised." Meryl started to unpack while Vash poked through the bag he was carrying. "The Circle-J has been getting some better foodstuffs in since things have calmed down. Decent meat for once, oil, bread, pasta, and…"

"Donuts!" Vash yanked the box out of the brown paper bag, prompting a small shower of canned goods onto the floor. "Oh, and they're still warm!" He slid the second bag onto the counter and ripped the box open.

Meryl watched him with combined amusement and disgust. "Yes, donuts. You didn't think I'd forget, did you?" Vash beamed at her through a very large mouthful of powdered-sugar chocolate crème special. "That's just gross. Do you practice eating those things in one bite or does it come naturally?"

"Just talented." Vash started in on another donut. "You're the best. Look, honey-glazed… you remembered…"

Because it was something of a tradition, or because she was just herself, Meryl couldn't not pick on him when given the opportunity. "What you did to deserve donuts, I'll never know. I ought to find something for you to do."

Vash ignored the needling. He'd learned it meant close to nothing, and therefore he missed the sudden light of inspiration on his lover's face. "Ooh, cinnamon." He made cow eyes at Meryl as he munched on the pastry, and she rolled her eyes. "You know I'd do anything to make you happy. Especially if you bring me donuts."

A mischievous expression flashed across her face, and Meryl crossed the kitchen to lean on the table where he was seated. "Anything?" she said, her voice seductive and low.

Vash snapped to attention immediately. He knew what that tone meant, and his afternoon was about to get a lot more interesting. "Whatever you want," he returned, starting to rise from his chair.

"You know what you could do to make me happy..." Meryl purred, sidling closer to him. "It's very simple, and I'm sure you could do a good job if I showed you what to do..."

"Anything," Vash breathed, his mind already full of pleasant images. He would do just about anything, especially to see that look on Meryl's face just before she-

She was speaking again and leading him by the hand towards their bedroom. This was just getting better and better. "...just come in here, and do what I tell you."

Vash complied, blissfully. "So what do you want?" he murmured. God, he loved the way she smiled at him... and god he loved it when she was assertive. He traced the line of her jaw with one finger. Meryl tilted her head at him lovingly, but the corner of her mouth twitched.

The miniscule part of his mind that wasn't preoccupied with Meryl's signals was sending out warning bells. That smile... there was something very, very wrong with that smile. It wasn't quite the "let's get busy, you sexy thing" smile she gave him when he'd managed to flip the right switches that night. In fact... it was more like the predator's grin she used right after Vash had wrecked their car on the way to Jeneora Rock, and right before she told him that he'd be the transportation the rest of the way.

Of course, the other ninety-nine percent of his mind wasn't focused on the warnings at all. Vash leaned in closer, all too happy to hear what Meryl had in mind this time. "Here's what you can do," she said, just before her hand closed in a death grip on Vash's arm. Suddenly realizing he'd been caught, Vash tried to scramble backwards, but it was already too late. Meryl pressed a bucket and a brush into his other hand, and Vash felt his exhilaration drain away in a hurry.

"You can..." Meryl paused for effect, obviously enjoying the moment. "Clean the bathroom."

"What? Why?" Vash dropped the bucket on the floor, his pride smarting. "You're the one who does all the cleaning around here!"

"You live here too," Meryl returned, "and you ought to be helpful. It's not a big job."

"Why do I have to do it? You're the one who always makes a big mess in there, with all those powders and lotions and five bottles of shampoo and everything else! And then there's all the hair you leave on the floor when you use the blow-dryer..."

"Hair on the floor? You want to talk about hair on the floor?" Meryl's expression darkened and she folded her arms across her chest. "It's not all mine, you know. There's plenty of blonde in the drain, and since your hair's half black, I'm sure about a third of that stuff you think is mine is actually yours! Oh, and while you're at it, could you organize your extensive collection of hair gel along with my five bottles of shampoo?"

"Your hair isn't the same shade of black as mine," Vash grumbled, faintly uneasy at the reminder of the gauge of life and death exhibited in the usual mess of spikes.

"Go ahead, look!" Meryl said. She picked up the bucket and started to fill it with warm water. "I challenge you, Vash the Stampede, to show me the difference between my shade of black and yours. Make sure you collect all the stuff behind the toilet, too."

"You don't ever give up, do you?" Vash accepted the brimming bucket glumly. It had started out so well, dammit...

"Do you want me to show you what to do?" Meryl produced a bottle of soap and offered it to him.

"What, you think I've never cleaned anything before?" Vash huffed. "I'm not that domestically useless." Which was true; he had certainly done several lifetimes' worth of chores, most recently with Grandma Sheryl and Lina. Lina had been overjoyed to have someone to cut her responsibilities in half. At the time, the simple housework had been a comfort after the horror of Augusta. Now, it was just a pain in the ass.

"Good! I'll leave you alone, then." Meryl gave him a sunny smile. "I'll be working on that pile of laundry you helped to create. See you later!"

Laundry was worse than bathrooms - but not much. Vash splashed soap into the water, picked up the brush, and started to scrub. The acrid piney scent of the cleanser made him sneeze and the water was almost hot enough to scald, but at least he wasn't outside starching shirts.

After an hour, the bathtub and wall tiles were pristine white and sparkling. Vash reflected with some pride that they probably hadn't been that clean in years. He leaned back against the sink and tossed the brush back into the bucket with a splash, admiring his handiwork.

"Are you finished already?" Meryl peered around the door to the bathroom. Her waitress's uniform was draped over one arm. "It looks great so far. Don't forget the floor."

"I won't, I won't," Vash said, impatiently. "Are you going to work now?"

"My shift starts at two," Meryl replied. She loosened the buttons on her blouse while Vash watched with interest. "Stop it. Don't get any ideas." She turned her back on him and moved out of his sight range to finish changing for work. A muttered comment about men in general and overeager gunmen with itchy trigger fingers was faintly audible from the direction of the closet.

"When are you finished?" Vash lingered in the doorway, still hoping for a glimpse, but the closet door hid Meryl. "Will you be home for dinner?"

"Dinner is in the icebox. Milly can heat it up when she gets home." Meryl brushed past him and stood in front of the sink. She fished her brush out of a drawer along with a handful of bobby pins and started to pin her white headband in her hair. "Don't even think about doing it yourself. The general store doesn't restock their fire extinguishers fast enough."

"I'm not that bad," Vash muttered, without conviction. He watched Meryl fix her hair, and quietly admired again how pretty she was.

"You see?" A black hair drifted down from the brush and Vash snatched it up. "This is all your mess."

Meryl hissed exasperation through her teeth and set the brush down on the sink with a bang. "Give it a rest already! What else were you going to do today, loaf around? You're not bodyguarding any more."

Vash folded his arms across his chest and adopted an air of great injury. "I wasn't going to loaf around. The kids are waiting for me to come outside." The injured pose gave way to the Great Crusader Gunslinger Stance, which was somewhat less effective sans red coat and gun, and Vash continued. "They're waiting for me to teach them about the noble values of Love and Peace, the same way I've taught children all over this planet! How can you stand in the way of such an honorable pursuit?"

Meryl rolled her eyes, but a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. "Exactly how does letting the kids use you as a tackling dummy teach them about Love and Peace? They're in school now anyway, and I don't think you'll have any company till they get out. That leaves you plenty of time to finish."

Vash's shoulders drooped. "You're so cold. I can't believe what a heartless person you are."

"Knock it off." Meryl gave him a hard poke. "And..." Her voice took on a more sultry tone. "You of all people know I'm not cold." To prove her point, Meryl put a hand under his chin and pulled him down for a kiss. Vash responded eagerly and slid his hands down over her back to squeeze her backside.

"You could prove that to me right now," he suggested, pulling the fabric of her skirt up a little bit at a time.

"I still have to go to work." Meryl shooed his provocative hands away and straightened her clothes. "Maybe later."

"You are no fun at all."

"You like to eat and sleep, don't you? Money buys food and pays rent." She swept her mantle over her shoulders and gave him one more kiss. "I'll be home around nine-thirty. Don't forget to scrub the floor, please."

"I won't." Vash sighed and followed Meryl out to the porch. "Come home soon."

"I will. See you later." She waved as she walked away, dust swirling around her feet with every step. Vash squinted into the afternoon brilliance until he lost sight of her. Two o'clock and nothing to do, no one to pester - and the saloon wasn't open until five even if he did feel like whiling away his time in the most useless way possible.

"Bathroom," Vash mumbled, scuffing his feet along the hardpack floor as he went back inside. It was useless to resist. He could leave the job unfinished, but he had the feeling that Meryl wouldn't be too pleased, and that would have unhappy consequences. Specifically, Meryl's "maybe later" would turn into "not tonight."

The bucket waited patiently on the floor of the bathroom, the water cold now from hours of cooling. Resigned, Vash picked up the bucket and dumped its contents down the toilet, then poured in some more soap and hot water. Meryl was right in that he didn't really have anything else to do. Maybe it was time to start looking for gainful employment if his new job was going to be cleaning house.

Soon, only the floor was left. Vash dropped to his hands and knees and swept his hand over the old linoleum. As he'd argued to Meryl, an awful lot of the flotsam on the floor was short black hair, but as she'd argued to him, there was a good portion that was blonde. Remembering her gibe about whose hair was blacker, Vash rolled back on his heels and inspected the tangle he had picked up.

"It can't all be the same," he muttered, and held two strands up to the light for inspection. One was a little longer, but that was all. Irked, Vash picked out two more, and two more again, with the same result. This wasn't going to help him prove his point at all. He swept up a larger pile of stuff and pulled out another strand, unwilling to admit defeat.

"No...not that one... still alike...damn." Vash looked at his assortment of samples on the floor and drummed his fingers on the floor in frustration. He pulled another black strand at random out of the pile and had a good look at it, and what he saw took all the fun out of his lighthearted task.

The black strand lay across his palm, innocuous except for one thing - a half-inch of blonde, give or take, at one end. Vash looked at it with bitter amusement, his good humor dissipating at the implications of what he had found. "This is not the difference I had in mind," he said softly. Every bright hair gone dark was another step closer to death and another reminder of the energy expended in Augusta.

And now... Vash stared at the thin thread in his hand. The spread wasn't done yet, it seemed. He was still dying, a little at a time. How long did he have before the rest of his hair turned black? That half-inch of blonde showed, beyond doubt, that the process wasn't finished, and he felt a sudden mortality descend on his shoulders.

"I guess this is how humans feel, every day," Vash mused, rolling the black strand back and forth between his fingers. Maybe it wasn't so bad. Maybe the decay would be just slow enough that he wouldn't outlive Meryl after all. It seemed to be a romantic idea among mortals that they would live and die together. He'd already lived for nearly two lifetimes, so perhaps he'd already used up all his credit. The blonde end of the hair flicked back and forth, spinning in front of his eyes.

Vash clenched his hand suddenly around the black strand. It wasn't worth it to dwell on it. He took one last, long look at the bit of blonde over black and stopped dead on his way to the trashcan. Something was wrong with the end - it couldn't be right. The process only worked one way. It couldn't be... couldn't be right... but there it was, all the same. Vash raised the blonde end of the hair closer to his eyes for a harder look and went weak in the knees at the implication. It wasn't the end of his hair that was blonde.

It was the root.

It couldn't be right. But, oh God, if it was...

Vash scrambled onto unsteady legs and laid the strand on the sink, pinning it under the toothbrush holder. He laughed a little drunkenly and braced himself against the wall. "Stay there," he whispered, grinning like a fiend. There had to be a magnifying glass somewhere around the house, and that would settle the question of which end was blonde quite well.

Where to look... well, Meryl was the Queen of Organization; she had to have something. He was risking a goosegg on his head to be messing with her stuff, but hell, this was far too important. Vash dropped into her desk chair and yanked open a drawer, prompting a shower of pens into his lap as they were thrown from their neat little container inside. The drawer was full of such neat little containers, each filled with staples or paper clips or tacks, but it wasn't long before the tacks were contaminating the paper clip box and the paper clips were caught in spilled staples. Vash pulled his hands out of the mess he'd created and growled in frustration. Nothing there.

She's gonna be good and pissed at this mess, Vash thought, and tried to slam the drawer shut. It refused to close, thanks to a bright yellow pencil caught in the opening. Vash ignored it and moved on to Meryl's drawers. The neatly-folded stacks of pants and blouses yielded nothing, though he did get sidetracked in Meryl's underwear drawer, especially when he found something lacy and interesting hidden in the bottom. Another time, he thought, forcing his mind away from it. There wasn't anything in the bedroom - maybe in the kitchen.

Ten dishtowels, a pair of scissors, two metal spoons, a cheese grater, a can opener, a knife sharpener, and a handful of oddments later, there was still no sign of a magnifying glass in the junk drawer. The drawer of utensils was similarly unsatisfying, and Vash hoped they'd be able to find the rest of the forks later. Nothing in the colander, nothing hidden behind the knife block, nothing stuck in with the cutting boards.

Vash dropped to his knees to slide the door to the cabinet of pots and pans open, dumping its contents out as he looked. A sauté pan went sliding across the floor, rotating slowly as it came to rest. Vash wriggled his shoulders deeper into the cabinet and gritted his teeth, shoving cookware out as fast as he could. He would find one, dammit...

"Mr. Vash?"

Vash started in surprise and slammed his head against the underside of the countertop, causing his yelp of surprise to quickly change to one of pain. He scrambled out of the cabinet. Was it Meryl? Oh no, if it's her, I'm really screwed. No, Meryl didn't call him Mr. Vash anymore. "M- Milly! Don't scare me like that!"

Milly looked at him quizzically. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you!"

"It's okay." Vash managed a smile and willed his heart to stop beating so fast. "Did you just finish work?"

"Mm-hmm." Milly tucked her yellow hard hat under one arm. "What are you doing in there? Are you making dinner tonight?" A faint line of anxiety crossed her normally serene face, and she hunkered down next to him and peered into the cabinet. "Maybe I should help you if you are."

"I think Meryl would kill me for sure if I ruined any more of her pans." Vash chuckled and scooted out from under the counter.

"This place is a mess!" Milly picked up the errant sauté pan and returned it to the cabinet. "If you weren't going to cook dinner, why were you pulling out all these things?"

"Um... well... heh heh." Vash rubbed the lump on the back of his head. "I was looking for something. Maybe you can tell me where I can find it."

Milly giggled. "Mr. Vash, you have a dust bunny in your hair."

"What? …oh." Vash ran a hand over the top of his head and felt something light shake loose. "Is it gone?"

"You got it. Oh, another one." Milly picked a fluffy gray thing off his collar. "What are you looking for?"

"A magnifying glass. I thought Meryl would have one, but she doesn't seem to." He grinned, shamefaced. "I kind of made a mess of her stuff."

"Hm." Milly opened the icebox. "Meryl left dinner. I think I'm supposed to heat it up, right? She told me you weren't allowed within three yarz of the stove."

Vash blew an errant lock of hair off his forehead in annoyance. "It could have happened to anyone. Give me a break already! I didn't mean to set dinner on fire! Anyway, do you have one?"

"One of what? Ooh, may I have one of your donuts? They look really tasty!"

"A magnifying glass," Vash told her, trying desperately not to be impatient with Milly. "Help me find one and you can have allof them."

Milly closed the door to the icebox and stared at Vash in undisguised amazement. "All of your donuts? It must be really important."

"It is."

"Well... let me think." Milly absently pushed up her sleeves. "If I remember correctly..."

Some time later found the two of them sitting at the kitchen table with a sheet of white paper and a tiny, scratched magnifying glass that had come as part of Milly's utility knife. The box of donuts sitting on the table had long since been emptied as the two friends passed the glass back and forth to try and confirm what Vash had suspected. It was hard to tell anything conclusive given the condition of Milly's magnifying glass, but what they had seen was enough.

"I don't know, Mr. Vash, it looks like the root end to me," Milly said, carefully laying the hair down. "We've looked at it six times now and it hasn't changed."

"Hmm." Vash took the utility knife from where it rested in front of Milly and had another look at his prize. "I just don't want to be wrong about this."

"Wrong about what? What's so important about your hair color?" Milly laughed as a sudden thought struck her. "It's kind of like the ladies in the beauty shop. They're all getting black hair turned blonde."

"It's kind of hard to explain." Vash put down the glass and stared somewhere off into the distance. Meryl knew what the color change meant, but it wasn't something he wanted to share with anyone else. "It happened after Augusta. I don't fully understand why." Which was half-true. He understood what it meant - a measure of energy expended - but why it should be reversing itself now, or why it should reverse itself at all...

"You looked different after Augusta," Milly continued. "Meryl and I watched what happened to the fifth moon. Maybe all that energy... just burned you up, somehow."

Vash shook his head in amazement. "You have some interesting ideas, all right." Of course, being Milly, she'd hit the nail right on the head, but there was no reason to let on. He leaned back in his chair and fell silent, lost in thought. Milly busied herself with the dinner, and for a while, neither one spoke.

"Milly."

"Yes?" Milly turned around from the stove. "Is everything all right? You're so quiet."

Vash spun the hair back and forth between his fingers and looked up at Milly. "What would you do if someone gave you a second chance that you thought just wasn't possible?" Milly shook her head, not comprehending, and he tried to find the proper words. "Like if you had a sickness that couldn't be cured, and then the doctor told you that you were getting well again, but there wasn't an explanation for it. It just... happened."

Her blue gaze was suddenly penetrating, and Vash had the distinct feeling that his dissembling hadn't fooled her in the least. "I think I would live every day as if it were a gift. But that's how you're supposed to live anyway, isn't it? We're all pretty lucky to be here and to have one another. Go forward and don't look back."

From anyone else, it would have sounded trite, but she was utterly sincere. "You're something else, Milly," Vash murmured, oddly touched. "I guess I'm pretty lucky to have the two of you."

"Why, Mr. Vash, you're so sweet." Milly put her hands together and cocked her head to the side. "Are you ready for dinner?"

His stomach answered before he could. "I think that's a yes."

"Let's eat, then."

The evening passed quickly. Milly beat him twice at chess, which was nothing unusual even under circumstances where he was less distracted. Then, Vash tried for the nth time to teach her some of the finer points of poker, which he knew was a lost cause. Still, it was still entertaining to watch her try to pull a poker face - not that he was all that good at it himself. After several hands of five-card stud and the second game of Old Maid, Milly yawned and stood up.

"I'm going to bed. Work starts early tomorrow. Do you need anything else?"

"I think I'm all right." Vash smiled and gathered up the cards. "Sleep well."

"Mr. Vash?"

Vash stopped arranging the chess pieces and looked up. "Hm?"

"My middle big brother always said that things happen for a reason," she said, quietly. "And he said that things happen when it is time for them to happen. Maybe that helps." She disappeared down the hallway, and Vash heard her door close.

He must have dozed off not too long after, because he was startled awake by the door to the house opening. "I'm home!" Meryl announced, sweeping her mantle onto the rack beside the door. "Did you miss me?"

Vash yawned hugely and shook his head to clear the cobwebs. "Always. How was work?"

"Lousy. We were short on staff and one of the fry cooks quit, so the kitchen was even more backed up than usual. I could use a bath, that's for sure." Meryl pulled her headband out of her hair and tossed it onto a chair. "Speaking of a bath, did you get the bathroom finished?"

"Pretty much," Vash hedged, remembering that he hadn't finished the floor after all. "The tub and tiles are clean."

"Good. I could use some hot water." Before Vash had a chance to intercept her, Meryl set out for their room.

"Um, Meryl?" Realizing that the bedroom still looked like a bomb had gone off, Vash tried to stop her from going into their room before he'd had a chance to explain. "Before you go in there..."

Too late. "VASH!" she screamed, as he vainly tried to hush her. "What is this mess?" Meryl's eyes were blazing grey, and despite the fact that he had nearly a foot in height on her, Vash backed up before her furious advance. "What the hell did you DO? My desk is a wreck!"

"I can explain..." he proffered lamely, as Meryl stomped past him into the bathroom.

"Oh for crying out loud... you didn't even finish the bathroom!" Meryl was good and mad now. "I ask you to do one simple thing, and instead you make ten times the mess! Why is there a pile of stuff on the bathroom floor?"

"If you'd just listen to me for a minute..." Vash followed her around the bedroom as she picked up scattered clothes. "It's important."

"I just ironed these," she muttered. "Really, Vash." Her voice suddenly rose on a warning pitch and Vash braced for impact. "And why exactly were you rummaging around in my underwear drawer?"

"Don't hit me, don't hit me!" he yelped, barely dodging. Vash nabbed one wrist as she aimed for his shoulder and grabbed her other hand when she tried to break his grip. "Would you just calm down a minute and listen to me?" He marched her over to the bed and sat her down. An inappropriate corner of his mind was remarking that this sort of thing had serious potential, but he told it to shut up and wait till later.

Meryl was still smoldering. "This had better be good."

"Just stay there. Please." Vash dashed out to the kitchen and returned with the magnifying glass and the blonde and black hair. "Look at this and tell me what you see."

"Why do you want me to look at your hair?" Exasperated, Meryl peered through the glass. "It looks like a black hair! What, is this about the which is yours and which is mine thing?"

"Look at the end." Vash redirected the glass and forced her to look, and all the fight went out of her immediately. When she looked up at him again, her eyes were full of tears.

"It's not over, is it," Meryl said, her voice quavering. "You're still dying. How far has it gone?"

Vash patted her back and pulled her close, and she clenched her hands tightly. "That's what I thought too. Look at the end again. Trust me."

Sniffling a little, Meryl complied. "It looks..." she said slowly. "It looks..." Startled, she picked her head up. "Vash, this is the root end!"

"I know." A huge grin spread across his face, and Vash hugged her hard. "I can't believe it either, but it's true." She looked up at him, her face full of wonder and amazement, and buried her head in his shoulder. For a long moment, they held one another, absorbing the news together.

"How far does this go?" Meryl climbed up on the bed and knelt behind him, and Vash felt her fingers part his spiky hair. She leaned close, inspecting.

"Would you stop that?" he complained. "It feels like you're picking nits."

"Be quiet." Meryl pushed his head down. "Down here -" she brushed the nape of his neck and a bit higher - "you're still all black. But up here, close to the transition, there's a whole section of new blonde that's maybe half an inch wide." Vash wriggled, and she gave him a swat. "Are you listening to me? This is important."

"Scratch, scratch, scratch," Vash mumbled, pressing back against her hand. With an aggrieved sigh, Meryl gave in and scratched the back of his head while Vash made terrible faces of great joy.

"You're impossible." Meryl let her hand drop. "Let me see this again." She stared at his head again and Vash squirmed uncomfortably. "It looks like about a month's growth. What was special about a month ago? What happened then that was different?"

"I fought with Knives about three months ago," Vash mused. "Delayed reaction?"

"Maybe, but from what you told me about the fight, it would have made your condition worse, not better."

"Good point." He folded up Milly's utility knife and put it on the nightstand. "So then what? I came home with Knives, and we all live happily ever after?" Meryl snorted and made a desultory comment about his brother under her breath. Vash ignored it. "What happened a month ago that was so different?"

Meryl shrugged. "Something you haven't done in a while?"

"A month ago..." Vash thought about it and Meryl settled next to him.

"A month ago," she echoed, and then almost simultaneously -

"Oh." Vash blushed to the tips of his ears, and her face was almost as red. Two and a half months ago, he and Meryl had started a shy courtship that very quickly escalated into learning to express the tension they'd built up together over two years in very pleasant ways. Vash didn't know if Meryl had been half as frustrated as he'd been after some of those intense, wonderful sessions that left both of them feeling like horny teenagers, but it had been nothing short of torture.

And then, about one month ago, Meryl had shown up at his bedroom door in her nightshirt and nothing else, and the resulting night had nearly taken the roof off the house. How Milly had slept through it, Vash would never know. Or, maybe she hadn't and was just too nice to say anything about it. Meryl had mentioned once that towards the end, Milly was just about ready to take her by the scruff of the neck and shove her into Vash's room. "But Milly's always seemed to know what was on my mind before I did," Meryl had confided, sometime during the aftermath.

"Well. Um." Vash rubbed the back of his neck and wondered whether it were possible to spontaneously combust from embarrassment. "I mean... it was a great night, but I didn't expect..."

Meryl had recovered some of her aplomb, and she quirked an eyebrow at him. "Only great?" she teased.

Vash blushed even more fiercely. He had been a lot of things that night, but reserved wasn't one of them, and if Meryl had complained that he never said her name before then, he had certainly made up for it. "Incredible," he mumbled. "It was... incredible." He managed to look up at her, and Meryl smiled and kissed his nose. "I still don't understand why that would reverse... I don't know. This." Vash waved a hand at his hair.

Meryl's cheeks were still a little pink, he was happy to see; he didn't feel like such a blushing virgin when she was embarrassed too. "I don't know either, Vash," she said, twining her fingers with his. "But... I can't think of anything more life-affirming than loving. Giving, receiving, sharing... being with you."

"Me either," he said, stroking her hand in return. "It was so different... to want to be there in the morning when you woke up. And I do want to," Vash said earnestly, catching her chin in his hand so that he could look straight into her eyes. "I want to be there every morning when you wake up. I even think it's cute when you snore."

Her eyes narrowed, but Vash could see the sparkle of tears in the corners. "I do not snore," Meryl growled. "Milly would have told me if I did."

"It's only a little snore, and it's adorable when you do it. Come on, don't be like that." Vash seized Meryl's arm as she tried to get up and leave him, and when he tumbled her down onto the bed next to him, she was smiling too.

"You know me too well," she complained.

"Not well enough. I think I need to get to know you more." Turning his attention to her waitress's uniform, Vash began to work on the buttons in the front, cheerfully ignoring her attempts to bat his persistent hands away.

"Hey! Did I say you could do that?" Meryl squirmed ineffectually under his body weight.

"No." Vash pushed her collar open and went to work on her neck, and her breath hitched in her throat. "Should I stop?" he asked, knowing full well what the answer was.

"Mmmm... no," she breathed, and tilted her head back. Vash grinned and continued to undo buttons. "But honestly, Vash," Meryl continued, summoning enough self-control to lift her head, "Is this all you ever think about?"

Vash left off his investigation of where-was-the-clasp-this-time to give Meryl a stricken look. "You don't want me to DIE, do you?"

"Of course not." Meryl wriggled out from under him and sat up, and Vash blinked in surprise. "But I might have to kill you if you don't let me at least have a shot at your shirt."

Vash let her push him down onto the pillows as she pounced on him. Between increasingly hungry kisses, he managed to say, "I expect at least another half an inch by next month. I'm making it a challenge."

Meryl fixed him with a hard stare. "Then I'll just have to do my best. Provided you're up to the task, that is."

Vash just laughed and let her find out.

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Arafel: arafel@oceandreaming.com