by Jaina and Arafel
Authors' notes: This fic is semi-plotless and angsty, and we've aimed to keep it in character. It's rated "R" for a reason, and if thatt's not your thing, skip the link in the middle. That having been said, enjoy.
Meryl sighed as she looked out over the town far below. Part of her longed to go back and escape the penetrating cold of the cliff where she and Vash sat, watching the stars. It didn't make sense; the weather was mild, even temperate for this region at this time of year, but a chill rested in her bones that had little to do with the temperature outside. Meryl glanced up at the sky; the fifth moon had risen and the hole in it seemed to mock her with its barren emptiness. She looked away and glanced at her companion, shivering.
"Are you cold?"
Meryl blinked. She hadn't realized that Vash was even still aware of her presence. Silence had fallen after their few words, and his depression covered them like a shroud, snuffing out the brief spark of hope she'd felt.
She was cold, with more than just the perceived temperature. It was the knowledge that maybe this was all her fault, despite Milly's reassurance that it wasn't. Maybe Milly was right, but it didn't feel that way, and more than ever Meryl was sure that she hadn't done him any favors by following Vash. She had followed her heart, just like Milly said, but it had resulted in Vash being pushed to break his most sacred promise. So, she lied.
"I'm fine. It's not that bad. Are you?"
"I don't know what I am." Vash's voice was hollow, empty. The line of his shoulders shook in the moonlight, and his face was as pale as the fifth moon over them. She inched closer and placed a hand on his arm.
"Vash…"
He surprised her by placing his own hand, the real one, over hers. His grip was tight, almost painfully so, but she could feel an underlying tremor. She hadn't had a clue how to help him since he'd awakened, but Vash seemed to want company now. Small comfort though it was, Meryl vowed to give it.
It wasn't pity. It was worry and caring and an emotion that was far too dangerous to name now.
She scooted closer. It was still cold, but maybe she could pretend that it wasn't. Meryl glanced down at the hand on hers, her heart breaking. There is no part of this man that isn't scarred, she thought. Fierce anger overwhelmed her for a moment, anger at everyone who had only seen a face on a wanted poster and a head with a bounty on it, because they never would have thought that the great and terrible Vash the Stampede would be out on a cliff mourning over a sick freak who had pushed him further than anyone should have to go.
"You're not all right," she said, and she twisted her hand in his grip so their fingers laced together. Vash looked up at her, and his fingers tightened.
"I guess I'm not," he said, and fell silent again.
Meryl gazed out into space and wondered what to say. Should she even say anything?
The one thing that was on the tip of her tongue was wholly inappropriate for the situation.
There was no need to burden Vash with her emotions. He had enough to deal with at the
moment. She felt ashamed for enjoying his warmth against her, even a little.
Meryl glanced back at him and nearly jumped when she saw that he was still looking at
her. She blushed and looked away, but his gaze remained steady. Her stomach dropped;
maybe he didn't want her around anymore.
"I'm sorry. Do you want to be alone?"
"No!" Vash's grip tightened further. "I…I don't want to be alone," he said, and Meryl's heart broke all over again.
"You won't be," Meryl said softly, nestling against him. "It's going to be all right. I promise." Would it? She didn't know. It might never be all right. She petted his forearm with her free hand, trying to soothe away the loneliness with the simple physical contact. "I'm here."
She wasn't prepared for what happened next, and Meryl couldn't strangle a startled cry when Vash pulled her into an embrace, his head snugged tight against her shoulder. "Shhh, it's okay," she whispered, stroking his back in wide, gentle movements.
"It's not okay," Vash said, his voice muffled. "I let her down, I killed him, and I keep seeing it over and over…"
Meryl tightened her arms around him rather than wipe away the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. "It wasn't your fault," she whispered. But that wasn't what he needed to hear, was it? "We'll be here for you, both of us," she said. "As long as you need us."
She felt him nod against her, but he didn't move. It was getting late, but Meryl was more than ready to spend the entire night here with him if it was what he needed. And it did seem to be helping; his shudders were lessening as he grew calmer.
Meryl felt a shiver of her own when Vash shifted on her shoulder, his lips almost brushing her neck. She scolded herself inwardly; this was absolutely not an appropriate reaction, given the situation.
No. His lips weren't almost touching her neck. They were touching her neck, and Meryl might have pushed him away in shock except for the pure, paralyzing awareness of the light, fluttering touch that was moving up from her neck along her cheek. She sat frozen, eyes closed, her fingers curled tight around his shirt, until his lips touched hers in a way she was sure was no accident.
"V – Vash?" Meryl stuttered, her cheeks blazing. She pulled back and stared up at him, his pale eyes searching hers in the moonlight. "What was – why did you…" She put a hand to her mouth, still tingling with the remembered touch.
"You…make me feel," he said quietly. "I just want to feel something else, please…"
Meryl wavered for a long moment, wanting to know how and why, but then something clicked all at once, and why did not matter. It only mattered that she could help him. It wasn't very Meryl-like, and anyone who knew her would be shocked except maybe for Milly. Before Vash could respond or pull away, Meryl closed the gap she'd opened and kissed him back.
Vash responded hungrily, his mouth opening against hers. Meryl found that her eyes had closed of their own accord as she leaned into him. She felt a spark of shame within; all the times she'd imagined this, wished for this, she'd never wanted it like this, and wasn't it wrong to enjoy it now, in the face of such misery?
But Vash seemed to want it even more than she did. He pulled her against him so that their bodies were pressed against each other and kissed his way down her neck, nipping at the skin now and again, with an intensity that Meryl knew would leave marks. She found that she didn't care.
It had to be wrong that what Vash was doing felt as good as it did, in the face of what was driving him to do it, but she couldn't deny that her heart was racing and her body was responding with a need that surprised her. He had loosened the collar of her dress, and he sucked at the tender skin over her collarbone, laving her with his tongue. Meryl gasped, limp in his arms, and she let him lower her down to the stony ground.
At first, the sand and rocks under her back were an annoyance, almost lost completely in the frantic exchange of kisses and caresses. She ran her hands up under his shirt, pulling Vash down next to her, and he snaked one arm over her back and down her backside to press her close against him. His arousal was plain through his thin pants and her tights, and Meryl had the sudden feeling of playing with fire. Vash hooked his leg over hers, and they rolled slightly to one side.
Vash stopped and growled, lifting himself up. A few moments later, Meryl heard the crack of a rock hitting something a distance away, and she was forced to admit in a similar fashion that the stone protrusion poking her in the hipbone wasn't doing anything for the mood. The night air was growing colder, too, and her partially-exposed breasts tightened with the unpleasant chill.
Vash looked at her, and Meryl knew he doubted himself — whether this was right, whether he should do this with her. She spoke up before he could voice his doubts. "I think we can find a better place than this." It wasn't what she wanted to tell him. It wasn't about true romance, but it wasn't about pity, it was more, it was something she could do for him because she loved him and wanted desperately to heal him, make him not broken — but the words wouldn't come.
Maybe Vash understood anyway, because he helped her to her feet and led them down the hill at a quick pace. Their destination clear, Meryl wished they could just be back at the house already—why had Vash felt the need to brood so far away? Vash must have felt the same way, because halfway down the hill he scooped her into his arms and began trotting faster. She clung to him, not wanting to imagine what would happen if he lost his footing, but Vash's grip was sure and his feet steady. Vash's breath and his pace grew faster until they reached the tiny house that served as home.
He let her down at the threshold, since it was impossible to carry her and open the door at the same time. Meryl walked into their house, trying not to look too hard at the battered bed in the middle of the kitchen, even though she knew that was where they were going. It was impossible to go to her room, since she and Milly shared. Vash shut the door, and she sensed his presence behind her before his arms closed around her from the back.
"Thank you," he whispered, nuzzling her.
"For what?" Meryl answered, twisting in his arms so they stood face to face. She took a deep breath. "You're more than my job, Vash, I'm here because I lo – "
"Don't!" Vash said fiercely, silencing her. "Don't say it. Don't even think it." There was a telltale glitter at the corners of his eyes.
Don't cry, Meryl told herself. "I'm sorry," she whispered, stroking his cheek with the
back of her hand. Vash caught her wrist and kissed her palm, moving down the inside of
her arm. She gently disengaged him and started in at the clasps at her throat, each tiny
click sounding loud in the room. When her dress hung loose around her shoulders, Meryl
took his hands – both real and artificial – and put them on her.
If you prefer, they have a nice long talk now and drink tea. Otherwise, follow the link.
www. oceandreaming. com/ fanfiction/ coldcomfort. html (REMOVE SPACES!)
***
It was a long time before Vash moved, and for a few minutes Meryl thought he had fallen asleep on top of her. Then he rolled away onto his back next to her, his breathing growing slower. Meryl shifted over to see his face. Vash's eyes were closed and his expression was utterly unreadable. She doubted he was asleep. He wasn't moving, but something told her he was still awake and aware of her presence.
Maybe he was waiting for her to go. Maybe he was faking sleep until she got dressed and left him alone to brood over his failures. Tears pricked her eyes at the idea that Vash was still so despondent, that she had been unable to help him in the way that she so desperately wanted to, that he couldn't even look at her now.
She sat up, intending to slide out from the sheets and fumble for her clothes, but stopped at the feel of Vash's hand on her back. Surprised, Meryl looked back at him. The lines of sorrow were still graven deeply into his expression, but there was a softness now that hadn't been there before. His hand slid around to close around her arm, and she let him tug her over to rest her head on his chest.
"You don't have to go," he said, softly. Tentatively, Meryl leaned back down and snuggled into his bare chest, trying not to think about the rough patches under her cheek. No, she didn't have to go, even as doubt tormented her. She didn't have to go, and Vash could live happily ever after with her and Milly in this no-name town, and he could come to her in the night for meaningless comfort that felt good to them both and meant nothing.
That wasn't what she wanted, not at all. But what was the alternative that would make everything all right again?
His fingers slid through her hair, playing with the short black strands. Meryl lay quietly on him in the dark, eyes wide open and staring into the kitchen, and a tear slid down her cheek. It had been pure hubris to imagine that she could cure the grievous wounds to his soul with only her body. That only happened in bad romance novels and she sure as hell wasn't living one of those. In stories, it was always beautiful lovemaking that ended with declarations of eternal love. It wasn't a desperate fuck and the sacrifice of the girl's pride in a futile attempt to help her lover regain his.
Vash's hand traveled up her neck, stroking softly, and Meryl bit her lip to hold in a sudden sob. When his fingers touched her cheek she turned her head, not wanting him to feel, but a tear dripped onto his chest. Meryl felt him hesitate and rolled over so that her back was to him.
"Meryl?" When she didn't respond, Vash propped himself up on one elbow, putting the other hand on her arm. "Why are you crying?"
He said my name, she thought dully. I've been waiting for him to say it, and now it just hurts. Meryl closed in on herself, drawing her legs up to her chest. "Because," she replied, her voice muffled. "Because I…" I wanted to help you, she wanted to say. I wanted you to feel better, and now it's a mess, and we've done something we can't undo and it wasn't the right thing to do with you. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Sorry for what?" he asked uncertainly. "Was it… not very good?" The hand in her arm retreated. "Did I hurt you?"
So it was possible to laugh and cry at the same time. Here she was, beating herself up over sleeping with Vash, and he was worrying that he hadn't been any good in bed. How completely silly. How completely… him. Scrubbing at her eyes and nose, Meryl turned over.
"You didn't hurt me," she said to his chest, still not able to look him in the eye. "It was... fine."
Vash tilted her chin up with one finger, forcing her to look at him. "But?"
"I just..." Meryl licked her lips. How could she explain that she'd wanted it to be so much more, so much better; that she understood it wasn't the time or place for such things, but it still hurt? "I just wanted it to be…different."
Vash was quiet for a long moment. Meryl wondered if she'd confused him further, but then he wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her close to him. "Me, too," he murmured.
There was nothing more she could do after that, but Meryl was warmed by Vash's touch and the words that he hadn't quite said. It was still a broken, wrong kind of evening, but maybe it was better than it could've been. Maybe that was what she needed to believe.
In that theoretical romance novel, the hero would have begged his lover to stay the night in his arms, but Meryl knew better. As warm and comforting as Vash's embrace was, it ended, and she knew it was time. "I should go now," she said, and though Vash would not have hurt her by outwardly agreeing, she knew that he thought so too. He had already closed in on himself again, withdrawing both body and spirit.
Meryl found her underwear on the floor and started to get dressed, throwing her unbuttoned dress over her head for the short walk to her room. Behind her, Vash shifted and rolled over, and she draped his pants over the foot of the bed. "I'll be by in the morning to replace your bandages, all right?"
"Hnn." His reply was impersonal, noncommittal, as if they hadn't just shared the most intimate thing two people could do together. Meryl couldn't suppress a quick flare of anger, even as she reminded herself that she could hardly have expected otherwise. What they had done wasn't about love, anyway.
It didn't change that she loved him, though.
Meryl picked up her boots and stuffed her tights into one of them. She dropped to her knees and ran her hands around the floor to make sure that nothing would be left as evidence that she had ever been there. No one needed to know, not even Milly, though the big girl would have understood better than anyone after Wolfwood. This was between her and Vash, and if he was through with it, then by god so was she.
On her way out, the soft voice from the bed caught her by surprise. "Meryl."
"Yes?" Her fingers were poised on the corner of the hallway, everything in her ready to leave.
Vash sat up in bed, and even in the half-light, the ridges and twists of his scars were still visible. "Thank you."
The anger left her in a breath. "You're welcome," Meryl said, turning to face him. Her next words came all unbidden, a mother's lie to a brokenhearted child.
"Things will be better in the morning."
No, it's not a sequel to A Whisper in Darkness, but our minds are always at work concerning ways Vash and Meryl would be together. This is our answer to "what-if" on the cliff during "Live Through." We're romantics, but we're realists too.
Arafel: [email protected]
Jaina: [email protected]