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Meryl has no idea how they got outside.
One moment, Knives was doing…something to Vash.
What had the doctor called it?
Memory manipulation, and assimilation?
Whatever it was, it wasn’t what Vash wanted, but Meryl had been helpless to stop it, kept away from Vash by the glass that separated them, even the bullets she had fired had done nothing.
Then, the Gate had flashed.
Light so bright it was blinding had overtaken everything, and Meryl could do nothing but scream as she felt what must have been the vines sprouting from Vash wrap around her and tug.
The floor disappeared from beneath her feet and there had been nothing to hold her against the pull that dragged her down.
Her heart had lodged in her throat, choking off the scream that had been the only sound beside the creak of the constricting vines that had coiled ever tighter around her.
As quickly as it had started it had stopped.
Her fall ended with her left in an inglorious heap splayed out across a dune that had been soft enough to kill her momentum, but luckily not her.
She had lain there for a moment, catching her breath, blinking at the fact that she was alive when in all sense she should be very, very dead.
Hah, story of her life since she met Vash.
That thought had brought her back to her senses enough to start looking.
The prone form lying in the sand next to her had been easy enough to spot, even in the dark, with his newly blackened form all but blending into the night.
She had tried to wake him.
Called his name, shook his shoulders, she did everything she could, but as before, nothing worked.
That’s how she ended up in this ridiculous situation.
“You, ugh…had better thank me for this when you wake up,” she gripes, as she grits her teeth and forces herself to keep placing one foot in front of the other.
Vash’s head lolls limply against her shoulder, silent.
A deep breath convinces her not to stop moving, but she does take a moment to adjust Vash on her back, jostling him up from where he has slipped, her fingers tangled in a death grip on his coat.
She can’t let him fall, she reminds herself, she can’t because if she does, she’ll never get him up again.
“You know, you really owe me for this, right? This and soooo much more, so when you wake up…” she pauses as she feels herself leaning too far to one side, but she corrects it quickly enough and continues, “when you wake up, I need a full in-depth interview, alllll the secrets, no holding back this time. Heh, I’ll even be nice and buy you a donut while we chat, so all you have to do is wake up, got it?”
Silence, only silence, but Meryl isn’t giving up.
“If my article does well, we might even get your name cleared, no more bounties, wouldn’t that be a load off your mind?”
The sand crunches beneath her feet and shifts with the long drag of Vash’s criminally long legs behind her. Even imagining the amount of sand she is accidentally filling his boots with is making her own skin itch in sympathy, but what else can she do!
“Argh, I swear if a worm tries to attack us now, I am going to go full Wolfwood on it, no mercy, no quarter!”
She chuckles at her own joke, trying not to let the looming depression that is just waiting in the wings get her down.
It’s hard though, and each new step is a herculean effort, but she keeps telling herself and Vash, “not too much further now, just watch, we’re gonna turn this dune here and there July will be, right there.”
She knows it’s a lie, if the city was anywhere close, she would see it, looming above them with a tower so high it dominated the landscape around it.
That said, there is something up ahead, Meryl can see light, a little dome of it that signifies the presence of civilisation in some form, at least that’s the hope she’s grasping onto with both hands.
“Come on, just a little further.” She leans back a smidge, trying to get more air into her lungs despite the dry rasp as the breath drags against her painfully dry airway.
The sudden give of the ledge she hadn’t realised she was standing on the edge of has her gasping and grasping onto Vash, but there is nothing to stop her fall.
Curling around Vash as best she can she does her darndest to protect him as they roll, tumble and slide down the unseen incline, pebbles and sand raining down around them pelting their skin as gravity latches onto them and refuses to let go.
Her eventual stop isn’t as soft as her crash from earlier, as instead of sand she falls into what feels and sounds like a pile of scrap metal before her back falls flat against packed dirt, knocking all the air from her lungs as she lies there with Vash’s still form half on top of her.
“C-can’t breathe…” she wheezes as she does her best to lever Vash’s dead weight off her, all she gets is the same limp response as before and this time, with him pinning her down and her arms already limp as noodles there’s no way to get him off.
She looks around for anything that can help her, only to blink widely as she comes face to face with a helmet of some kind.
Angular, with a broad jaw, a single horn on the forehead, and a long plume decorating the top, it looks intimidating.
It also looks very out of place, like something out of a storybook about chivalrous knights.
Her observation of the strange helmet is brought to an abrupt end by a hollow ‘thunk’ that sounds somewhere to the left of her.
Meryl tries to turn her head to get a look at what caused the noise, but she simply ends up with a face fool of Vash’s hair.
By the time she manages to control the coughing fit that mistake caused, she looks back to see that the helmet is gone and, in its place, stands a pair of metal feet.
“Are you okay?” asks an echoey young sounding voice from way above her current sight line.
Turning her head, she looks up and then just keeps turning it up as she slowly realises how freakishly tall this person is, only to be met with a concerned gaze from within the confines of the helmet that had previously been lying on the ground.
“Help,” she manages to croak out, and almost immediately relief is flowing over her as the weight on her chest that is Vash is easily removed.
Her lungs work to draw in the deepest breath they can and suddenly the world isn’t so dark around the edges.
She flops, getting her arms beneath her to try and push herself up, trying to get to grips with the sudden return of her full senses from behind the muffled veil of asphyxiation.
It’s as the cottony muteness slowly recedes from her ears that she hears it, a sound so unique and so vital to your survival when you live on a desert planet with no natural water sources.
The water in question is just there, out in the open, flowing out of a fountain of some kind as if it isn’t one, if not the most precious resource of humanity.
Meryl is up and running with a sudden burst of energy that she didn’t know she had left.
Foregoing cupping her hands, she dunks her face straight in the basin of the fountain, allowing one of the spouts to pour night cooled water directly onto the back of her head as she gulps down the thankfully clean water. The first swallow brings instant relief to her desert scorched throat, the second allows cool relief to flow through her veins, the third gets rudely interrupted as her screaming lungs force her to come up for air.
Shaking her head like a dog, she takes a moment to appreciate the lack of fuzz clogging her thought process as the impending dehydration that was beginning to throb at her temples is beaten back.
The creak of metal joints pulls her attention back to the armoured man who’s now holding Vash in his arms, one cradled at his back while the other holds his legs.
“You some kind of hunter?” Meryl asks, only to wince at her own bluntness.
Maybe her thoughts aren’t as clear as she hoped.
“A hunter? Oh! The armour? No, no, I’m an alchemist, I wear this suit as part of my training…yep, eheheh.”
After hearing the voice a second time, Meryl is again struck by how young it sounds and how incompatible it seems with the towering frame that must lie underneath the armour…unless.
Dread grips Meryl’s throat at the thought of this being another one of Knives’ soldiers.
“Heh, okay, makes sense,” Meryl chuckles nervously as she inches a bit closer, trying to play it casual, “thanks for your help, me and my friend will just…” she points her thumb down the road, silently communicating her desire to leave, before moving to take Vash from the…alchemist’s? Meryl has no idea what that is, hands.
She releases a deep sigh of relief as the armoured guy doesn’t resist or try to keep a hold of Vash, he’s even nice enough to help place Vash’s arms around her shoulders so he sits more securely.
Of course that doesn’t last, as soon as Meryl takes her first step away the boyish voice echoes from inside the recesses of the helmet, “um, is your friend okay?”
No, Meryl wants to scream, because Vash is very not okay! He hasn’t moved since they got here. Sure, the vines that had been growing from him may have crumbled away but the thick black casing that feels as cold and smooth as steel still covers him from head to toe.
If Meryl couldn’t feel his warm breath tickling the hairs on the back of her neck and her left ear, she would think that he was dead. Her eyes sting at the mere thought of that, after everything they have been through, all that they overcame…No, she refuses.
More gently she says in a strained voice, “we’re good, just gotta get on our way, sorry for the troub-uwah!”
Tripping on an unseen rock exposes her lie immediately as she tumbles to the ground again, pinned once more beneath the dead weight that is Vash.
She’s not left like that for long this time, Vash easily being lifted and set gently aside to lean against the fountain. Instead of lifting her bodily the armoured guy simply offers her a hand.
Reluctantly, she takes it.
Looking up at the helm she would almost think that the guy is trying to give her an encouraging smile with the way the sensor lights tracking his eye movements behind it scrunch up.
“My name is Alphonse,” the boy introduces himself, his voice light and friendly even with the deep echo that swallows it from within his armour.
“Meryl,” she returns, “and that’s Vash.” She bites her tongue too late; Vash’s name slips past her lips as clear as day and she can only mentally kick herself for the slip and blame her stupidity on the really long and traumatising day she has had.
Luckily, by some miracle, Alphonse doesn’t seem to recognise the name, he merely nods and continues, “there’s an inn just down the road, me and my brother are staying in it too, he likes it because of the hot springs, it’d be a really good place to get Vash cleaned up before you guys head out.”
“Hot spring?” Meryl asks, completely confused.
Alphonse mistakes her bewilderment for interest. “Oh yeah, Rush Valley, before it became the automail capital, was famous for them because of the benefits they have.”
He doesn’t start walking as she assumed he would, forcing her to follow.
What he does is far worse.
Tilting his head and making the lights behind the eye holes go as round as possible, his does the fully armoured equivalent of a puppy dog head tilt.
It should not be this effective, but somehow Meryl finds herself willingly walking down the road, allowing Alphonse to carry Vash as he guides her towards the inn.
Shaking off the last bit of fogginess that is clinging to her, Meryl takes both her hands and slaps her cheeks in order to get herself to focus.
As Alphonse promised, the inn is not too far, but it’s long enough for Meryl to have a quick look around and to learn that the water fountain is not the only curiosity here.
For one, it must be the middle of the night by now and yet the streets are still busy, not something she would expect of a middle-sized town that probably has two plants at most, hell, for a town of this size, this isolated, there should be an unspoken curfew as a means to save all the resources they have, but no, this town is living it up as though they have energy to spare.
Not to mention the fact that by this point, Meryl has seen three restaurants along this one road, all of them full to bursting with people spilling out into the streets, crowded around tables and chairs that look in good form despite the harsh conditions of the desert.
The people themselves are in good cheer, loud and bawdy in a harmless way that speaks of one too many drinks but not in the sense that they are actually trying to drown their sorrows.
It’s such a weird vibe and there’s something else that nibbles at the edge of Meryl’s mind as she continues to look around. What it is hits her with all the subtlety of Vash asking for a bullet, when her eyes glance over a billboard.
There are wanted posters, none that Meryl can recognise, which is weird, super weird, impossible in fact, cause Vash’s face should be plastered in even the dinkiest little backwater.
There’s no way a town of this size shouldn’t have at least three posters located not just on the notice boards but on the walls of the more popular watering holes as well to make sure they are seen.
“Meryl?” Alphonse asks, having looked back and seen that she was no longer following, concern weighing down his tone like it has been since they first met.
She looks at him, completely confused and sure that both she and Vash are very lost.
“Alphonse, where are we?”
…
Water.
Cold and all embracing, suffocating until it wasn’t.
Sharp pain, knives digging into his spine, connecting to his nerves in a way that wasn’t meant to wound him but to remake him.
Soft words and a joyous laugh.
“I’ve finally got him back.”
“Happy Birthday, Vash.”
“No!” Vash screams as he throws himself up.
Away from the knives imbedded into his back.
Away from the visions that slowly fade away like the fragile red petals of a geranium caught in the winds of a sandstorm.
Away from Nai and his soft words that pierce Vash’s heart deeper than any blade his brother can conjure.
He tries to stand, intent on running, only for his foot to catch on something and send him flying.
Hitting the floor, he tries to find his balance while also trying to escape whatever has a hold of his legs and ends up accomplishing neither.
“Vash!”
He cowers away from the call of his name, prepared to fight against the chain of blades that are about to wrap around him and hold him down, to stab into his memories and rip them apart until he has no memory of Rem.
When small hands grab him instead, he is not ready for it, nor does he register that these small limbs couldn’t possibly belong to his brother.
He thrashes, desperately and pointlessly, just wanting to run and hide like he always has because when it comes to Nai, he’s just not good enough.
“I did it all for you.”
No, Vash wants to deny, to erase and never hear again, it’s the one thing he would be willing to forget.
“What you believed was love, Vash, was just a bunch of excuses.”
“No!” he rejects this time, pulling back, and out of the hold of those small—kind—hands.
When they reach for him again, determined and hopeful, he doesn’t even realise that he strikes out.
The hollow clang of his artificial arm coming into contact with something metal is so out of place, so unlike the ringing tempered chime of Nai’s knives, that he opens his eyes.
A broad metal chest plate, now dented where his fist had met it, takes up his entire field of vision.
“Al!” the shout comes from behind the wall of grey steel that Vash cannot see past, followed by the sound of heavy, lopsided footsteps.
“Ed, I’m okay,” comes a child’s voice from somewhere above Vash’s head.
“No, you’re not, get away from him!” The vision of steel is replaced with red as a small back shields the broad chest of steel from his view, only to be replaced with sharp gold as it stares down at him from a set of very angry eyes.
“My brother helps you and this is how you thank him!” yells the young boy who stands before the armour, shielding him as if he needs protection.
Regret is a merciless mistress that hits Vash like a gunshot, it physically slams him back, the recoil is so strong he hits his head against the wall behind him, so hard that he knocks plaster free, or at least he assumes so as he feels something thin crack at the back of his head and fall as dust around his shoulders.
“Wait!” cries a familiar voice, and suddenly Meryl is there, standing between Vash and the rightfully angry boy. “He didn’t mean it, he’s been through a lot today, he’s hurt and confused, but I know he didn’t mean to hurt Alphonse.”
He didn’t, that’s the last thing Vash wanted.
If this was any other day, he’d be plastering on his goofy smile, flashing his peace sign and declaring ‘love and peace,’ with all the enthusiasm he could muster, but this was not any other day.
“I’m sorry,” he says in a small but sincere voice, begging that he will be believed even if an apology has never been enough.
“Ed, come on, I’m fine,” argues the chid in an exasperated echoey voice.
“How is this fine! What the hell kind of crazy automail can put a dent the size of a crater in this chest plate! I reinforced it, I even got Winry to advice on that lighter carbon steel alloy she wouldn’t shut up about…” the rant stalls for a moment, only to pick up again, a little more frantic this time, “we do not tell Winry about this, we shall never hear the end of it and once she knows, every automail mechanic in Rush Valley will also know and we will never make it out of here alive!”
“Ed, you’re being dramatic,” chastises the first voice in an amused if slightly still annoyed tone.
“I am not being dramatic Al, now hold still.”
Daring to look around Meryl, who has relaxed enough to lower her arms, Vash sees the young man with blonde hair and a red coat the exact same shade as Vash’s own…well, the exact same shade it used to be, as he discovers when he looks down and only sees black.
It covers everything, even his skin, thick and flaky, with the feel of bark that’s dead or dying.
It peels like dead bark too, as he rubs his fingers together, breaking off in little pieces that crumble to dust at the slightest touch.
It should be easy to remove, a few swipes and then a rub with a dry cloth, but he soon learns that this isn’t the case. If even a small patch of it remains then it just spreads again, flowing like ink and meeting up with other little patches until his skin is fully encased again.
The little sound of distress that escape his lips at the sight of it is enough to draw Meryl’s attention from the argument that still rages behind her.
“Vash, are you okay?” she asks, all concern, which turns into dread as she voices her next question a little more quietly, “do you know who I am?”
“Meryl,” he whimpers even as he tries to hide the grief, if doesn’t work, in fact it might make it worse, because trying to hold back the tears is simply making them flow faster.
“Vash,” she crows in relief as she wraps her arms around him and pulls him in close, it’s so similar to the way Rem used to do it that Vash can’t help but return it, even if he doesn’t deserve it.
“I was so worried, the professor said something about memory augmentation, and you wouldn’t wake up, I thought Knives…”
He had, Vash can remember now, the vision of his memories being erased one by one, until only Rem had remained. The feel of her slowly cooling body fading from his arms, but even that had not been fast enough for Nai. There was nothing Vash could do, there was never anything he could do against Nai.
“You’re okay,” Meryl is telling him over and over again, but he knows it’s a lie.
He’s about to say something, something that will make her see that she needs to get away from him, but just as the first words are about to leave his mouth, a reverberating clap and a flash of light overtakes the room.
He moves, reflexively and instantly, putting himself between Meryl and whatever is happening.
Only to see that the blonde-haired boy isn’t focused on him at all, his eyes are trained solely on the armour, which is mending itself, the dent shrinking by the second as lightning dances across its surface beneath the boy’s hands.
Lightning that appears to originate from the boy’s hands.
The Eye of Michael.
That’s the first thought that springs to Vash’s mind as he watches the metal beneath the boy’s hand yield to the lightning he conjures.
Meryl sees the way he stiffens, the way he primes himself to grab her and run, and tries to calm him, “Vash, we’re okay, we’re safe, I promise,” more quietly she says, “they don’t work for Knives, we’re safe.”
Are they?
Vash wants to believe her, he always wants to give people the benefit of the doubt, to trust in their humanity.
He watches the boy with wide eyes, waiting for the attack, for the trap to be sprung.
What he sees instead is a genuine interaction, care and consideration goes into every touch exchanged between the two boys…brothers?
Meryl sees it too, as she comments, “you really take care of your older brother, don’t you Ed.”
The atmosphere in the room suddenly turns cold again.
Ed is smiling, but his eyes are closed, and Vash can see a vein throbbing at his temple.
“Older brother?” he asks. The words stilted as though he is trying to hold something back.
“Yeah, I mean Al has to be a good few years older than you considering the height difference,” Meryl posits innocently enough.
Al moves, trying to grab his brother as Ed lunges, but he’s too slow.
Getting right up in Meryl’s face, and consequently Vash’s as well he starts to shout, “I can understand when little kids make that mistake, their brains are still forming so a little stupidity can be forgiven, but there is no excuse for a full-grown ass adult, ESPECIALLY ONE WHO’S MORE VERTICALLY CHALLENGED THAN ME, MAKING THAT MISTAKE! WHAT? DID THE DESERT SUN FRY YOUR BRAIN TO THE POINT THAT YOU CAN’T RECOGNISE THAT I AM STILL GROWING YOU BACK WATER DESERT IDIOT! EVEN IF I WASN’T HEIGHT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH WHAT ORDER SIBLINGS ARE BORN IN!”
“What?!” Meryl screeches clearly insulted. “Who are you calling short you gnome!”
She moves to step out from behind Vash, but luckily, he’s quick enough to grab her, although its not enough to stop the argument.
“Gnome?” Ed’s eyes darken as the aura of anger that had been smouldering beneath the surface catches fire. “SAY THAT AGAIN YOU SHRIMPY LITTLE WITCH, I DARE YOU!”
“Shrimpy? This coming from a pipsqueak that probably wouldn’t reach my chin if he didn’t have lifts in his shoes.”
“Meryl please,” Vash begs at the same time as Al tries to calm his brother.
“Brother, they’ve been through enough today.”
“I’ll show them enough when I break down this half pint into sand and scatter her back in the desert!”
Vash is about to say something, to try and calm the situation, but his breath catches in his throat when he looks down and sees the black that covers him begin to move.
The raised voices fade away as he watches in horror as roots begin to spread from his arm to Meryl’s, slowly wrapping around her jacket, tightening at a pace that is too slow to notice.
“M-Meryl,” he calls, his voice cracking with horror as he watches the unknown thing that covers him from head to toe ensnaring the reporter.
“Stop holding me back Vash!” Meryl demands, only for her eyes to widen as she tries to pull away from what she must have thought was Vash’s tightening grip.
“What the hell is that!” cries Ed as he too notices the dark roots.
Vash can barely hear the voices calling out to him though, not when his full focus is trapped by the helplessness that has him gripped by the throat. He doesn’t know what is happening, he doesn’t know how to stop it, all he knows is that he is going to hurt these people, hurt Meryl.
Suddenly, Meryl isn’t in his arms anymore.
He blinks, relieved as he gains enough consciousness to realise that Al has her, but the roots sprouting from Vash don’t seem to like that.
“Vash, calm down, we’re safe, I’m sorry—” Meryl starts, as Ed and Al both try to figure out what’s going on.
All their voices stop as Vash falls forward, hands wrapped tightly around his chest as he begs for it to end, for whatever this is to retreat, but he knows it won’t, the last time he lost control, it took Nai to stop him, and it cost Vash his arm.
What will it cost to stop him this time?
His hand moves, reaching blindly for his gun, hoping it will be enough.
The steel is cool as he wraps his trembling fingers around it.
“Don’t even think about it!” Ed shouts.
It’s all the warning Vash gets before the sound of clapping resounds like thunder in the room.
Hands brought together as though in prayer, Ed advances, nimble and unafraid as he dodges the out-of-control roots that have staked Vash where he stands, digging into the floor and the walls as though they intend to keep Vash here forever.
One of them lashes out, looping around Ed’s leg, or attempting to, it fails when Ed leaps, landing lightly on top of it with perfect form as he then uses it as a jumping point to get closer to Vash.
He can barely breathe as he watches Ed charge forward, heedless of the danger he is putting himself in.
A root, stabs forward, aiming with lethality to impale Ed, Vash wants to look away, to close his eyes and block out the violence that is about to unfold.
In response, all Ed shouts is, “eyes on me!”
Vash listens, watching with wide eyes as Ed slams down his hands on the root that is aimed straight at his chest.
The same lightning from before flows across the root, splitting it and disintegrating it, and Vash can no longer follow the order, he has to close his eyes.
He feels the moment the lightning hits him and tenses at the initial tingle, simply waiting for the stark pain of millions of volts running through him to strike.
It never comes.
He feels a rush of air against his skin, the relief of the constant itch that is only noticeable now that it is gone, and as he dares to open his eyes, he sees bare skin.
“See, what did I tell you Al, carbon based with traces of titanium, lignin, and tannins,” Ed boasts, looking pleased with himself as he dusts ash off his gloves.
That’s all that remains of the roots, ash. At least that is what Vash thinks until he glances down at the space between him and Ed and finds it is now occupied with a statue of an ugly gargoyle.
“Ed! What were you thinking?” Al lectures, as he releases Meryl, who in her haste to run back to Vash nearly trips over the statue.
Vash catches her and is once again lost in the release of being free of the power he has no control over. Meryl herself is lost in her study of Vash restored to his usual self, even his coat is once again the same vivid red that he has always loved, the colour of geraniums Rem cultivated.
“How…what?” Meryl stammers the questions Vash wants to ask but can’t.
“You never seen alchemy before?” Ed turns back to face them, a wide smile on his lips as he picks up the demonic looking gargoyle, that has more than a few elements in common with Al’s armour, if a little more—a lot more—excentric. “The science that makes you feel as though you’re magic.”
Vash has no idea what Ed is talking about, but Meryl’s eyes are lighting up in that way they only do when she has found an exciting story. All sparkly and determined with an aura of I will get to the bottom of this if it kills me.
“It’s a science, so anyone could do this?” Meryl queries as she digs out her pen and paper, only for Ed’s face to go pale.
“Wait, you’re a reporter?” He sounds borderline disgusted.
Meryl pouts, unamused by the clear tone of distaste that colours Ed’s words. “You have a problem with my profession, short stack?”
The insult literally has Ed turning red with anger, steam practically pouring out of his ears, but prepared for it this time, Al is ready with a handy intervention to calm his brother. “Ed, I really think Vash could do with a long soak in the hot springs after all that.”
Ed deflates, looking between his brother and Vash, whatever he sees is enough for him to drop his hackles. “Fine, what are you going to do while we get cleaned up?”
In answer, Al claps his hands together and them places them next to the grotesque statue, lightning again flashes in the room, controlled and contained.
The statue shudders under the effects before beginning to break down completely, within seconds the statue in no more and in its place sits three piles of materials, that look like sap, dirt, coal, and metal.
“I’m going to take this to the scrap merchant in order to pay for Meryl and Vash’s stay here,” Al explains as he picks up the metre long bar of metal and heads for the door, “I should be back in about an hour.”
“Great,” Ed agrees, if a little less than enthusiastic, as his brother closes the door he shouts, “you know, you could have just sold the statue at the pawn shop, you would have got a lot more money!”
Al doesn’t even dignify that with a response, leading Ed to grumble, “nobody can appreciate great taste.”
Vash covers Meryl’s mouth before she can say anything against that.
Love and peace and all that.
“Come on, baths are this way.” Ed grabs the room key and holds the door open for them and then takes the lead again after securing the room.
They don’t have to walk too far, merely down a hall to a set of stairs that lead out onto a small courtyard, that holds a shed at the entrance to a small valley that cuts through the cliff at the back of the hotel.
Ed disappears into the small outbuilding but returns momentarily with his arms full of towels and soaps, he pauses for a moment to drop a few coins in a tip box nailed to the side of the shed before turning to face them once more.
“Think fast!” he warns, Vash doesn’t, too lost in his own head and gets a towel to the face for his troubles.
Meryl’s in the same boat, but the similar force hits her a lot harder, and she ends up splayed on the floor.
“You,” she growls, but Ed is already walking away, a victorious smile on his lips as he points to a separate path previously hidden behind the shed.
“Ladies hot spring is that way, don’t pass out and drown yourself.” Ed doesn’t even look back as he rounds the corner of the path that must lead to the men’s hot spring.
Vash is hesitant, looking down at the towel and the soap that was wrapped within it, this is already too much, to expect people to waste water on him as well?
Before his thoughts can get too trapped in that way of thinking Meryl literally slaps him out of it with the lightest touch to his shoulder.
“Hey, you doing good?” she enquires, all concern just as she has been since he woke up.
Somehow, he manages to drag up the smile that he wears to protect himself, but it feels lopsided and ill-fitting, a feeling that Meryl picks up on as she looks at him with pity that he has not earned.
He can’t bear the weight of that look right now, so he seizes the escape that the separate bathing areas offer him as he whispers a soft, “I’ll see you in a while.” Even as he knows that he does not deserve the comfort that comes from wiping the dirt and sand from his skin.
He walks away before Meryl can say anything else.
The walk up the slope to the hot spring is short and when he rounds the corner, he finds himself forced to stop by the sight that meets his gaze.
A pool of steaming, clouded water takes up most of the space, surrounded by natural sandstone that makes up the rim, the only break in the formation a set of wooden stairs that are the obvious entrance to the pool, it blends seamlessly with its natural surroundings.
The thing that holds Vash’s attention though is the Vast sky that opens up above them and seems to go on forever. Without the moon the stars hold all the light, and though individually distant and weak, together they create a deep canvas of allure, one that Vash could stare at all night.
“The views a lot better in the pool,” Ed says as he walks up to Vash, already undressed apart from the towel wrapped around his waist.
Vash finds himself taken aback when the map of scars that decorates Ed’s body is out on full display. Prosthetics aren’t unusual, whether from necessity or a desire for more power to combat the harsh conditions of the planet, lots of people have them, but lots of people aren’t a young teenager who’s lost both an arm and a leg in such a violent manner that the scars they leave look like the marks that would be left from torture.
“Come on, I’ll wash your back, then we can both head in,” Ed suggests, seemingly not even noticing the way Vash studies him, or not caring.
Vash wants to say no, but the protest is quiet in his own skull, and he’s been given a clear instruction, so his body ignores the voice in his head screaming that he doesn’t deserve this, that he hasn’t earned this comfort as he robotically removes his coat and the rest of his clothes, before tying a small towel around his waist like Ed has.
Ed doesn’t say anything about the scars that layer one after the other on Vash’s body, about the prosthetic that now feels more a part of him than his original arm did.
He just does as he said he would after Vash sits down on the provided stool.
The swipes from the warm cloth initially make him want to tense up, to pull away, or better yet, stick his clothes back on and run, but he doesn’t want to disappoint Meryl and Ed is being so kind. Besides, the process doesn’t take all that long, and soon enough Ed is handing the washcloth to Vash, who hates to admit how much the simple non-threatening touch has eased his worry.
“You should be good to go as soon as you rinse off,” Ed notes as he steps down into the hot spring, sinking up to his neck as soon as he sits down into the moon stone white water with a long-relieved sigh.
Eyeing the wooden bucket that has been left beside him for the purpose of rinsing off, Vash cannot help but raise a brow, it seems like such a waste of clean water, but then in comparison to the bath…
Again, the need to follow a clear instruction, to not cause trouble or to be a burden wins over his own fraying thoughts and Vash dips the washcloth into the bucket and begins to scrub.
“You know, it’d be a lot faster if you just dumped the bucket over your head, just saying,” Ed interrupts.
Vash looks between the boy and the bucket for a moment, back and forth on loop, stuck between the need to comply and the fact that his brain is screaming at the waste.
“Heh, you don’t need to if you don’t want to,” Ed compromises with a laugh.
Vash is so eager to take the out that he ends up fumbling the bucket and spilling half of it over himself.
“I’m s-sorry.” He stumbles over the words that come so easily, that are always primed on the tip of his tongue.
The sound of splashing water announces Ed stepping out of the hot spring. “Hey, Vash, right?” Ed confirms as he holds out a hand as though Vash is a spooked tomas about to bolt.
Vash nods, already trying to calm himself.
“Come on,” Ed instructs, soft and easy, the exact opposite of his attitude towards Meryl when they were arguing earlier, “the water will help, it’ll soak out all that stress in no time.”
Vash doesn’t believe that for a second, not when his last experience with water still leaves him shaking at the mere thought of it, the mere sound, but the quicker he goes in the quicker he will be out, right?
With a steadying breath that is a trembling mess, he sticks his toe in.
It doesn’t feel the same, it doesn’t smell the same, that all helps, but it is the warmth that draws him in.
He hadn’t realised how cold he was until he touched something genuinely warm.
Before he can stop himself, Vash is slipping into the pool and taking a seat on the opposite side to Ed on the submerged stone bench, that must be carved out of the natural basin but has been worn smooth over time by the continual flow of water and minerals contained within.
Fully sat, the water manages to reach his upper stomach, leaving Vash’s shoulders and upper chest exposed to the cold, but he hardly notices it given the rising steam from the hot spring which makes the air feel heavy with every breath.
His mind begins to sink into a haze as stress drains from his muscles, untensing as taut nerves unravel one by one.
It all comes to a crashing halt when Ed shouts, “how is that you sat down!”
Vash jumps, all the relaxation gone in an instant as he’s kicked straight back into fight or flight mode.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Ed pleads, hands up in a placating manner as he sits back down and looks at Vash with pit—Vash blinks for a moment, caught off guard by the fact that it isn’t pity he sees reflected in Ed’s eyes, but understanding.
“Sorry, that was my bad, just a reflex, Al’s always getting onto me about it, normally it gets a laugh out of people,” Ed explains as he slowly sits back down, as though he’s half expecting he might have to leap forward to grab Vash before he can run off.
He’s not far off there.
Seeing that Ed is giving him his space and time he needs to make his own decision, Vash slowly sinks back into the water, a lot further this time, to the point that his shoulders are almost submerged.
Ed relaxes as well, placing his arms on the outer rim of the pool as he leans back and looks at the sky. “I always love how clear the skies are here,” Ed notes conversationally once a few minutes have past, “especially at night, the stars are never this clear in the big cities and towns.”
Vash is only listening with half an ear, his thoughts still racing a mile a minute, not really able to take in what’s being said, even though it’s nice, the ebb and flow of Ed’s voice like the drift of clouds across the clear desert sky he’s describing, lazy but at the same time determined.
He follows Ed’s gaze and sees that he is right, the endless black provides the perfect canvas, allowing the galaxies to be seen so clearly, trails of diamond dust that look like they’ve be sewn for the sole purpose of being beautiful to look at.
“It really puts it all in perspective, doesn’t it?” Ed continues, or perhaps he never stopped.
Vash takes a moment to wonder at those words, at the truth of them, and soon finds that he agrees.
Here, warm, away from the rush and the pain and the pressure that had been dogging his every step for months now. Given time to simply stop, to look up at the sky and not have to worry about the bullet he won’t see coming.
“It’s nice,” Vash finds himself saying, so quietly that the breath from the words barely disturbs the steam that curls around him.
The smile Ed shares with him after that is wide and genuine.
Vash doesn’t know how long Ed allows him to simply sit there and soak, at once it feels like an eternity and no time at all, but then Ed’s flesh hand is gently shaking his shoulder, pulling Vash from the light doze he hadn’t even realised he had fallen into.
“Come on, any longer and you’ll pass out,” Ed laughs, and Vash nods dumbly as he rubs tiredly at his heavy eyes.
Getting out is a bigger struggle than he thought it would be, the cold air hits him instantly and with a cruelty that makes him want to slink back into the water and never get out, but it’s banished soon enough when Ed hands him the single fluffiest object Vash has ever encountered, in the form of a bathrobe.
“Oy! Short stack! Did you drown yet? Or are you ready to head back!” Ed shouts at a wall that Vash soon realises is the divider between the men’s and women’s baths when Meryl shouts back equally as loud, “I’m fine, unlike some people my feet can easily touch the bottom.”
Ed’s expression darkens but his retort is swift. “Yeah, mum’s often take their toddlers with them in there so of course it’s shallower!”
Meryl’s response comes in the form of a thrown bucket that barely skims the lip of the wall before tumbling back down whence it came, much to Meryl’s apparent horror and injury given the hollow bonk and squeal that sounds from the other side.
Ed laughs uproariously, only to stop when Meryl expertly lands her second throw, beaning Ed right in the forehead.
The small puff of air that escapes Vash’s lips could barely be classed as a sound let alone a laugh, but Ed interprets it as such.
“Ah, so you do have a sense of humour,” Ed chuckles as he rubs his head and tries to take the sting out of the bump that’s forming on his head.
“Sorry,” Vash says, knowing it was rude to laugh when Ed and his brother have been so generous.
Ed shrugs it off as he collects his clothes and walks back the way they came. “No worries, I’ll get the little dwarf back later.”
Vash follows bundling up his own clothes in his coat, and they find Meryl and Al waiting for them at the base of the stairs leading to the inn.
“Brother? What happened?” Al asks as he points to his head.
“Ask the mangey wild cat you picked up in the desert,” Ed accuses without venom and Meryl simply sticks her tongue out.
They make their way up the stairs and Al shows them to a room that he booked for them, it’s the same layout as the brother’s room, two beds with a table, a dresser, and a window that looks out on the street below.
Al’s also gone to the trouble of ordering some food for them and it sits there warm, ready, and waiting. A hearty serving of stew with a roll and a bowl of rice on the side.
Vash hadn’t noticed he was hungry until the smell hit him, but now that it has, he can feel his empty belly rebelling against the void.
Ignoring it, he places his coat on the bed and thinks of curling up under the covers and simply sleeping through it.
He takes one step towards that plan before Meryl takes him by the elbow and guides him to the table. “It’s rude to refuse kindness,” she admonishes with a knowing smile the reminds Vash too much of Rem, gentle, understanding, and filled with such faith in him.
The first bite is taken robotically, the second is taken ravenously as instinct takes over.
“Okay, see you guys later then,” dismisses Ed as he moves to leave, “oh, before I forget, there’s a washroom for your clothes on the lower level, if you ask the inn keeper, I’m sure she’ll have your clothes done by the morning.”
With that, Ed retreats to his own room with a large yawn and a stretch that would have his fingers skimming the ceiling if he was a bit taller.
Al lingers for a moment, hesitant as he looks between his brother and the two of them.
“If you need anything…” he offers.
Vash knows what he needs to say.
“Thanks.” It’s the first words he’s consciously spoken since he woke up here, lost but not alone, and Al deserves to hear them, so does Ed but he’s already gone.
Al smiles, at least Vash thinks he does, its hard to tell behind the helm, and yes Vash really is curious about that, but now that his belly is full the tiredness is hitting him like a giant sandworm on a rampage.
He thinks Meryl is the one that helps him to his bed for the night and tucks the covers around his shoulders as she runs fingers soothingly through his hair.
All of this combined with the soothing effects from the hot spring leaves him asleep within minutes, the terror from before a distant memory that can’t touch him as he dreams of warm arms and a loving embrace amidst a field of red geraniums.