Meryl's POV
Awareness slowly returned and with it a feeling of complete satisfaction. Sunlight is streaming in the window of my room in this small house. As I roll over to escape the glare of the morning light, I notice the slight ache that accompanies my movements. With the morning, the memories of my actions last night come to face the full light of day. I sat up quickly in bed as the full impact of what I had done bolted through me. . .I slept with Vash the Stampede.
I groaned and fell back on the pillows, covering my face with my arms. what in the world possessed me to do such a thing? "You know why. . ." my inner voice whispers softly in my mind. I guess I do. . .I really love Vash the Stampede, the Humaniod Typhoon, the gunslinger worth $$60,000,000,000.00 dead or alive. I say the words aloud, but very softly, for the first time; "I love Vash the Stampede." I lower my arms from my face. The world hasn't ended, the ceiling didn't crash down on my head, and armed thugs haven't begun another shoot-out. . . Maybe, we can stay in this town for awhile, maybe we can have a life together, maybe. . . I guess I am getting ahead of myself though. I haven't outright told Vash how I feel about him. He sure hasn't admitted having any feelings for me. I frown as I wonder how to go about telling him I love him.
Sounds of movement from the next room shift my focus for the moment. It's Vash. . .rising from his bed, dressing carefully in his loose fitting clothes. . .I feel the blood rise in my face as I remember peeling those same clothes away from his body last night. Even with the array of scars, he is absolutely magnificant. I allow myself to snuggle deeper under the blankets, close my eyes, and begin to recall every small detail of last night.
In spite of the blistering heat of the day, the night really was cool and pleasant. Sitting here, on this high bluff overlooking the town, I was trying to come to terms with exactly what I felt for this mysterious being beside me. . . Vash the Stampede. Clown, saint, gunslinger. . . I've seen him wear all those titles. Some call him killer, but I haven't seen that side of him. Even when he killed Legato, he was searching for another way. That haunts him most. . . even July and Augusta didn't seem to have this effect on him. I wish I could help him realize that there was no other way to save Milly and myself other than to kill Legato.
The night glowed softly around us. Illuminated by a million tiny stars and the soft gleam of the fifth moon, I was struck by the countenance of the man sitting next to me. He was handsome as ever, but his eyes held a haunted troubled look that hurt me to see. "Oh Vash, I'd give anything to take away your pain." I thought.
His hair was longer and he needed a shave, but those were minor things really. It was a miracle he had survived that last shootout. His body was enough to make my mouth water even with the brutal scars that covered the majority of it. I could care for his physical wounds, but his troubled soul I could do nothing for. Just when I could use a priest, Mr. Wolfwood had to go and get himself killed.
Damn. . . life was so unfair at times. So as his body healed these past few weeks, Milly and I tried to remain cheerful and upbeat, caring for him as best as we could. I feel so helpless at times when it comes to dealing with this man beside me. Sometimes I used to think the troubles, which accompanied him, were well deserved, but the current situation. . . well, let's say I felt responsible for it. That haunted look in his aqua eyes was slowly breaking my heart. How could I mend his troubled soul? How could I erase that lost look in his beautiful eyes?
How could I bring that ridiculous grin back to his face? I'm still searching for those answers.
I shivered in the rapidly cooling night air. I forgot how quickly it becomes chilly out here on the bluffs. Vash noticed my discomfort and eased his battered body closer to mine. "That better?" He asked softly.
