Chapter Text
Meryl couldn’t tell which of them had started screaming first. All she knew now was that she couldn’t stop.
A shock of terror had seized her mind like a vice and awoken her from a dead sleep. Disoriented, she’d turned over to reach for Vash and instead grasped a handful of sharp needle-like feathers. With a pained gasp she’d jerked away and the realization of what was happening drenched her in cold sweat.
Feathers burst forth from Vash, ripping through the sheets and wrapping around her. His expression was twisted in a grimace of pain. Tears flowed from his blank eyes and ran down the glowing markings on his face. Visions and emotions assaulted Meryl’s mind, drowning out her screams with their own.
Meryl clutched at her head, as if doing so could ward them away. She clawed at her ears, but the screams continued. She shut her eyes until tears squeezed out, but the memories continued to burn behind her eyelids.
Not again not again not again…!
She was stumbling through July as it collapsed around her, broken bodies clawing at her feet as they cried for help.
She was begging for mercy as horrors beyond her comprehension whispered unholy revelations that shattered reality like glass.
She was crushed beneath the weight of a scorned god as Vash writhed out of control above her and the air pulsed electric with his raw fury.
Too much too much it was ALL TOO MUCH
Meryl gripped her head tighter and tighter as she shook it from side to side. The room closed in closer and closer and smaller and smaller, her breaths growing shorter and shorter. She was panting, hyperventilating, as the jagged feathers pierced all around her. Soon they would swallow her up, and Vash with them.
Wake up WAKE UP
She yelled in her head as loud as she could, adding her own panic and sorrow to the bitter memories bleeding out of Vash. She screamed at herself, at Vash, at the godlike power that twisted up the man she loved into something she couldn’t recognize.
She couldn’t tell if her vocal chords or her lungs gave out first. But the last memory of Vash’s blue eyes snapping awake to meet hers with mortified realization would be burned into her consciousness long after her thoughts finally went blank.
Meryl awoke feeling like she had the worst hangover. Her thoughts were gray and muddy and trying to connect them to form anything coherent just made her head pulse and ache. With a loud groan, she pushed herself into a sitting position. She started to rub her forehead, but pulled her hand away in surprise to find it wrapped in soft bandages. Her other hand was the same.
The space beside her was empty, the sheets cold and neatly pulled up as if she’d slept alone the whole time. The memory of last night hit her like a punch to the gut when she realized Vash had been gone long before she’d woken up. Apparently he’d done his best to set the scene as if that night terror had never happened–fresh sheets, quiet room–but it was his absence that made her heart run cold.
He’d seen the panic in her face. He’d heard her screams. That last image of fear overflowing from his eyes, not for his sake but for hers , made her clutch at her chest. The depth of agony and shame in his face was almost more than she could bear.
With a heavy sigh she pulled the blanket aside and slid out of bed. She padded over to the vanity in the corner of their room to inspect the damage to herself.
The mirror revealed dark circles and puffy red bruises under her eyes. No surprise, she remembered crying herself into unconsciousness. The thin scratches on her cheeks were a surprise, though. She grimaced, only now recalling the feel of her own nails clawing at her face in feral hysteria.
Good thing there’s makeup .
Next she unwrapped the bandages on her hands. Despite the gravitas of the situation, she couldn’t help but smirk. She’d recognize Vash’s haphazard handiwork anywhere. For a man that had lived over a century running from gunfight to gunfight, he was remarkably poor at treating wounds. The fondness that welled up as she imagined him worriedly wrapping layer after layer around her fingers pricked her eyes with tears.
They had to work through this. She had to find him after she’d cleaned herself up.
Her hands were hardly worth the effort he had taken. Paper thin cuts ran down her fingers and left palm, and red abrasions marked her wrists and forearms. Nothing serious; the skin was barely even broken in most spots. It looked like she’d just tripped and skinned her arms during a fall.
After applying a bit more concealer than usual, she slipped an old pair of gloves on, brushed her hair, and dressed for the day. She had meetings with several clients about insurance claims today, but she wasn’t going anywhere until she found Vash.
She left their little room above the local tavern and headed downstairs. Her eyes nervously scanned the quietly chatting patrons in the bar before she’d even descended the last step. Her heart thudded faster at each unrecognizable face.
Surely he hadn’t just left again… had he?
Panic started to squeeze her gut but she inhaled deeply and shook her head.
No more of that, Meryl, not now.
She made her way to the bar counter and the familiar old bartender she’d come to know over the last several weeks. At last, seated tucked away at the far end of the bar, she found Vash. Meryl exhaled a long, shaky sigh of relief.
As she made her way over, Vash looked up and gave her a smile she knew all too well. “Morning!”
She froze. Though his eyes were creased and his grin was plastered wide on his face, Meryl could see through that self-sacrificing facade he erected to shut down his feelings. His expression was as devoid of emotion as the suspiciously empty shot glass in front of him. It sent a cold chill down her spine.
He was still running away, even now.
“Morning,” she murmured.
The bartender, an old man with grizzled gray hair and eyebrows as thick as shaggy wams, gave her a warm nod as she sat down. “Morning Miss Meryl, it’s rare to see you rising so late.”
Was it later than she had thought?
“Oh,” she gave an awkward laugh. “I suppose I was tired today, that’s all.”
“Big day ahead? You look even nicer than usual!”
At least the makeup was working . She gave a strained smile. “Thank you! I do have several clients to meet later.”
Vash kept an easy smile on his face during the exchange of pleasantries, neither meeting nor avoiding her gaze. Meryl eyed the shot glass in front of him again. Was he really drinking? This early?
For a long moment neither said anything to the other. Meryl tapped her fingers nervously against her knees.
“Vash…” She glanced up at him, worry written plain on her face. “Hey, last night–”
“Hm?” He cut her off with another easy grin.
His overbearing, fake happy-go-lucky attitude was seriously unnerving her. Why was he being so obtuse?
Meryl took a steadying breath and tried again. “We really need to talk about–”
“Oh Miss Meryl,” the bartender suddenly interrupted. “Sorry, I was going to leave you in peace, but a client was here asking for you earlier and I see they’re here again.” He nodded over to the swinging saloon doors where a gentleman had just entered.
Meryl heaved an aggravated sigh. She glanced back at Vash, unwilling to leave things like this between them.
Placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, she said, “Look, we’ll talk when I get back later, ok?”
She wanted to wait for an acknowledgement, an agreement, any kind of feedback from him, but he just held her gaze with that same practiced smile until she was forced to concede defeat in this round of miscommunication.