COME DANCING

By Rubious

 

Rating: PG

Pairing: Vash + Meryl

Warning: AU, Romance, Humor, and WAFF.

SPOILERS: for the episode “Out of Time”

DISCLAIMER: Trigun © Yasahiro Nightow. This story is a work of fan fiction and is for entertainment purposes.

 

//thoughts//

 

Chapter 1: Making the Date

 

            At their zenith, double suns blazed intense heat in the cloudless sky, scorching the dry earth below as well as the broken soul of a notorious gunman. Vash the Stampede shaded his eyes from the glare with his left hand as he tried to discern the figures flitting about before him. In his right hand, he clenched a bottle of bourbon.

            The lanky blonde-haired man slumped against the bench in the midst of the village of New Oregon. He had sat there for what seemed like an eternity, but was actually just over an hour. His laughing eyes were tired and bloodshot; his face covered with stubble and his expression was haggard. The heat combined with a lack of sleep and a bout of binge drinking made Vash feel like a beaten man who had just lost his family.

            Was the glaring sunlight playing a trick with his vision? The shadows seemed to form vague outlines of those who had been murdered by the Gung Ho Guns aboard the ship. The ship had been his home, a haven he would return to like the prodigal son. But his last visit had caused irreparable harm and a numerous loss of life.

            The specters taunted him, “Vash, why didn’t you save us?” in a recurring mantra that seared into his alcohol-addled mind. “Vash, why did you let us die? Why?”

            He remembered the names of the deceased: Jones, Thomas, Penny, Ella…

Overwhelmed by the flood of emotions, Vash gulped the bourbon. He wanted to blot out the pain and sorrow. The bourbon burned his throat as his face contorted into a pained expression. His turquoise eyes bulged. Tears began to well, but neither the bourbon nor the box of uneaten honey-dipped donuts that lay beside him could alleviate the pain he felt.

            “Vash,” said a soothing voice.

The Humanoid Typhoon blinked. Was it Rem? . Her cheerful demeanor always made him feel better.

“Vash,” the voice repeated. Vash looked up to see a man dressed in black standing before him. The man had taken the bourbon from Vash’s hand and was taking a long swig from the bottle. He coughed, pounded his chest with one hand, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve after finishing the drink.

“Wolfwood, I…”

“Vash, you’ve dishonored the booze by drinking like a wimp. Yeah, you can’t handle your liquor,” Wolfwood chided. The minister sat down next to the sad gunman, leaning the cloth-wrapped Cross-Punisher against the bench. “Face it, Vash. You did all you could to protect them. Shit happens.”

“But they didn’t have to die,” Vash mumbled.

“Nobody controls Fate. There aren’t any books of destiny floating around foretelling history. Maybe this was their fate. They were defying Fate by insulating themselves in their cocoon on the sky ship and not living in the real world with the rest of us.” Wolfwood took another chug from the bottle and nibbled on a donut from the box.

“Want one?” he asked, offering the honey-dipped delicacy to Vash.

            “No thanks. I’ve lost my appetite,” Vash murmured.

            “Geez, you’re carrying more emotional baggage than a fully-loaded sand steamer. Don’t let those worries consume you. Deposit them right here in my handy confessional.” Wolfwood smiled, holding a miniature, church-shaped container with a slot in the steeple for donations.

            A faint smile formed on Vash’s lips. “Thanks for trying to cheer me up.”

            “As a minister, let me give you some friendly advice. I can tell you need to keep busy. A diversion from this burden you’ve placed on yourself. As your friend, I suggest a night out with the insurance girls and me. We’ll go dining and dancing. I hear JR Town has the best nightlife around. We’re not too far away from there.” Wolfwood washed down the donut with another sip of bourbon.

            “Hmm.” Vash mulled over the invitation in his mind. He would certainly welcome a break from the emotional turmoil he had faced recently. Rem would certainly have wanted him to enjoy himself. Happiness had been elusive for him these past few days. But if you’re not happy, happiness will find you, Vash reasoned.

            Wolfwood smoked several cigarettes in succession, dropping the butts in a growing pile at his feet, as he awaited the gunman’s decision.

            “Okay, when should we go?” Vash said, his tired eyes beginning to twinkle.

            “Let’s check with Milly and Meryl and see if they want to go,” Wolfwood answered.

            * * * *

            Stacks of paperwork awaited the attention of claims investigator Meryl Stryfe. Sent by the Bernardelli Insurance Society to try to curb the amount of claims filed because of damage wrought by the infamous Vash the Stampede, Meryl and her associate, Milly Thompson, had spent months traveling with the misunderstood outlaw.

            Sleeves rolled up and her skinny blue tie loosened, she launched into the mundane job of sorting the claims by date. The heat was stifling. The room’s ceiling fan whirring sluggishly, doing little to circulate the stuffy air. Meryl sipped a glass of water, swirling the ice cubes in the glass as she set it down on the desk.

            Trying to focus on the paperwork proved to be a losing battle. Her thoughts wandered to a grinning Humanoid typhoon. //What kind of man are you really, Vash the Stampede? In all the months I’ve traveled with you, I’ve seen almost every side of you.

Happy and sad, drunk and sober, angry and quiet, violent and gentle. But which is the REAL you?//

            A loud noise outside the boarding house interrupted the insurance girl’s musing. Meryl went to the window to see the bus from May City unloading passengers before going on to JR Town. Children scampered about, bouncing balls back and forth or playing tag.

            Meryl sighed and sat back down at the desk, leafing through the documents. This pile of claims reminded her of another dangerous situation Vash was in the middle of. //Damn you, Vash. Instead of always saving the world, isn’t it time to save yourself from a life of loneliness? Beneath that happy-go-lucky façade is a vulnerable man. You’re a jigsaw puzzle with some pieces missing. You need someone to be the missing pieces, but….//

            “Meryl, I brought some lunch. I hope you like chicken salad sandwiches,” said Milly Thompson, entering the room with a tray filled with food. She placed it down on the desk. Her blue eyes and bright smile exuded a cheerfulness that many found contagious.

            “Thanks, Milly. Chicken salad is fine,” Meryl replied, her mind distracted. “I’m having some trouble with these claim forms.”

            “Can I help?” Milly asked.

            “Sure. Take some of these and get them ready to be sent to the home office. They want them by the end of the week.” Meryl felt relieved by the comforting presence of her partner. With her co-worker around, Meryl wouldn’t be bedeviled by thoughts of Vash the Stampede.

            The pair ate lunch silently, the only sound being the shuffling of papers and the clacking of typewriters as the stacks of forms gradually diminished. Meryl leaned back in her chair, giving a sigh of relief that the tedious task was finished. Closing her eyes, she again saw the image of the smiling outlaw munching a donut.

            “Tell me, Vash,” the exhausted woman mumbled under her breath.

            “Ma’am, is something wrong?” Milly asked, worry creeping into her voice. The taller woman reached over and gently touched her friend on the shoulder.

            “No, no. I’m fine,” was Meryl’s hasty reply. The senior investigator felt a little embarrassed at the slightest hint of losing control in front of others.

            “Thinking about Mr. Vash?” I heard you say his name,” Milly said, good-naturedly. She had experienced teasing from her older sisters if she dared mention the crush du jour of a teenage girl.

            “Hell, no,” snapped Meryl. Her blue-gray eyes flew wide open to glare at her friend. “How dare you imply I have feelings for that lousy man?”

            “He is kinda cute,” remarked Milly.

            “Milly!” said a slightly dismayed Meryl. “Everything I do with Vash is a business concern. Our job is to make sure that walking disaster zone doesn’t cause any more trouble,” she stated firmly.

            The response didn’t ring true to Milly Thompson. She sensed her co-worker was dealing with romantic feelings for the Humanoid Typhoon, but wouldn’t admit it. That combined with doing paperwork in a stuffy room made Meryl seem more aloof. “Meryl, you need to relax. How about we join Mr. Vash and Mr. Priest for dinner? I’ll go find them and see what time they’d like to go. Do you have any preferences for the restaurant?” Milly offered, cheerfully.

            “Uh, sounds great. Anything is fine with me,” replied Meryl, not giving it a lot of thought.

            “Okay. I’ll be back soon.”

            “Milly…” Meryl called out.

            “Yes,” the younger woman answered, stopping before she departed on her search.

            “Thanks again for all your help. You’re a good friend.”

* * * *

            Nicholas D. Wolfwood dropped the wrench in disgust. His motorcycle needed a major overhaul and he didn’t have the time or the tools for the job. The vagabond path they had followed recently had taken its toll on the cycle. Every few days they’d have to pack up and head to another town after confrontations with foolhardy bounty hunters or a psyche-wrenching meeting with the Gung Ho Guns.

            “Ah, there you are, Mr. Priest,” a familiar voice called out from behind him.

            Turning around, he saw a tall woman standing before him. His blue eyes regarded her with a steady gaze. During their travels, they had established an easygoing rapport. Beneath her charming naiveté was a strong female to be reckoned with, as evidenced by the large stung gun she toted as a weapon.  “Hey, Milly. What’s up?” the preacher greeted the insurance girl.

            “Well, Meryl and I were wondering if you and Mr. Vash would join us for dinner tonight,” she asked, happily.

            “You know, Vash and I were thinking the same thing. That is, if you ladies would like to go out for a night on the town,” Wolfwood responded.

            “Isn’t that a coincidence?” Milly commented.

            Wolfwood leaned against the motorcycle and pulled out a cigarette. Before lighting it, he remarked, “Vash hasn’t seemed himself lately. Always moping around. He’s been that way since the Seeds ship crashed not too long ago.”

            “Meryl hasn’t been too happy either. She’s daydreaming a lot. Maybe the two of them could cheer each other up,” the woman said.

            Wolfwood nodded in agreement. Winking, he took a drag on his cigarette, and spoke in a mischievous manner, “Maybe they could spend some quality time together.”

            Giggling at the idea of playing matchmaker, Milly wanted to see her friend have a good time. //Meryl needs to loosen up. I’m sure she and Mr. Vash are great dancers.//

            “Mr. Priest, could we go to a place that has dancing?” the tall brunette asked.

“There is a club in JR Town known for its entertainment. It’s called Noir. Let’s call ‘em up and make reservations for dinner,” Wolfwood suggested.

            “Request a special song too,” Milly added.

            The two conspired to have them meet Vash and Meryl outside the boarding house in the late afternoon, but they would arrive fashionably late, to allow the pair to spend some time alone together.

            “Sound like a plan to me,” Wolfwood mused, revving the motorcycle. He glanced back over his shoulder to see Milly leaving as he roared off in search of Vash.

** **

To be continued…