The First Moment

Milly cried in her sleep.

Every night, when Meryl went to bed, she could hear her.

And every morning when they got up, Meryl asked her how she had slept, and Milly always smiled brightly and asked, “Fine, and you?” And Meryl would want to throw her arms around her and hug her so tightly that the pain would go away forever.

But she couldn’t.

And this man, this man before her, he was the one who had caused Milly this pain. He had killed the priest with another's hand.

And Meryl was helpless.

He faced the ceiling, back flat on the bed, eyes directly up. He had not answered any of her questions. She was knitting his sweater, blue and blue, day sky and night sky, his eyes and the priest’s eyes.

Milly’s eyes and the priest’s eyes.

She would make him talk. She had promised Vash to heal him. That included his heart.

“Why do you hate humans so much?” she asked quietly between the clicking of her needles.

There was silence for a moment and she feared that he would not answer even this. But then, miraculously: “You kill and kill. You destroy for your own needs. You act on your material desires without self-control. You are simply parasites.” He was still focused on that point in the ceiling.

The click of the needles was ceaseless. What could she say to that? He had seen the world. He knew how it worked. He was not stupid.

“You’re right.”

There was another long pause, his face expressionless. She halted her knitting and set it gently on her lap. The world felt strange, as if she were listening to the heartbeats of every person in the world, all at once.

“But we’re trying to fix that.” She raised her eyes to him, studying his features. He looked so much like Vash.

A derisive snort. He turned his eyes slightly toward her, away from that spot in the sky. She counted it a victory. “You are inherently flawed. Even were you in a perfect place, you would still be selfish. You would still kill for more."

She smiled faintly. “Again, you’re right.” Shifting her weight, she leaned forward slightly. “But how does that make us different from you?”

Cool, calculating blue eyed her, any emotion masked. How often had she seen this same mask on Vash? It did not faze her. “I rid the world of your plague.”

Ah, there it was. “But aren’t you yourself the same sort of plague?” His eyes narrowed as she spoke. “How many plants did you kill when you caused the Great Fall? How much blood of your own people do you have on your hands?”

Now his eyes widened, traces of emotion breaking through the mask. Anger, hatred… and was that despair? She was inordinately pleased and a great deal frightened. Her approach had elicited a response, but at what cost to her?

“Some sacrifice is necessary for the good of many,” he said, lowly and cold. She noted with a twinge of apprehension that his fists were clenched at his side.

“Your brother doesn’t agree with that,” she murmured, picking up the knitting again. Her needles were poor weapons.

“My brother is a fool!” He spat the words out like they tasted terrible.

She saw the first genuine expression on his face besides anger in the next moment as she began to laugh. He was surprised. He quickly recovered and changed it to suspicion with a dash of consternation.

“You’re right again, Knives-san,” she said, some cheer returning to her voice as she smiled at him. “Your brother is a fool.”

“Why is that amusing to you?” He frowned, distrust still lacing his eyes. This seemed another victory; he had directly asked her a question.

She cleared her throat, still bemused. “Because it’s so true. I’ve never met a man as honest and foolish as Vash-san."

There was a momentary silence as Knives watched her intensely, no trace of anything on his face, and then turned back to that spot on the ceiling. She smiled slightly at his raised face and continued on his sweater. It would keep him warm. She would make sure to take good care of him.