To Canaan Land

Author: foxmagic

Disclaimer: I do not own. Biznatch.

(A/N) Ah! I'm so glad you put up that post, SiNicaLLY diSTuRbEd! I completely forgot about Knives' Day…D:

Sadly, I cannot think of anything good enough for a nice one-shot…but I've decided that in honor of this special occasion, I'm going to update my story. Yessir, you betcha. Lot's of wonderful plot-thickening, road trip-starting, KnivesMeryl goodness. Or at least a small bit.

Secondly, I have to say that out of every category I have written for, out of every different sort of anime or show -the Trigun reviewers kick everyone else's ass. Seriously, I don't know how you all do it, but reading your reviews always bring a smile to my face no matter how much my day sucked. Thanks a lot, really! I can only hope this next chapter doesn't disappoint!

Happy very belated Knives' day, all!

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Chapter Six

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It had been a good dream. Where Vash was quiet and well-behaved. Where she had finally been granted that promotion she knew she deserved, earning much needed respect, honor, money, and…

And Meryl yelped as she felt herself being kicked sharply in the leg. Blinking blearily, she felt the world shift as reality finally seeped in. Painfully, she might add.

"Get…" Someone rasped out next to her. "Get up…you stupid woman."

Her hopes deflated at the sound of that voice, almost dreading the focus of her vision on familiar blonde hair.

"Get up." He demanded again, but seemed to be pained in saying it.

Her next realization came as she took sight of walls, and a ceiling that certainly did not belong to any abandoned shack. That's when she leapt to her feet, clambering to get up, but finding it nearly impossible. Her hands and feet were bound.

"What -what?" She screeched. "Kidnapped again? How many god forsaken times-"

The last thing she remembered was settling down for rest while the sandstorm picked up. She had taken Knives there… Knives -her head swiveled over to eye him. He was in a similar state, if not worse off, and seemed to be having trouble breathing, possibly still sick from earlier. His eyes met hers briefly, and she had to force down a shiver. Just how sick? Sick enough to prevent him from invading her mind? To prevent him from torturing her? From killing?

Something whispered along her thoughts, ghostly and resolute. But before she could register what it was, he looked away and it was gone.

She was unsure of what he might do, but just lying there wasn't going to do either of them any good, so she quickly scanned the area while he remained unusually silent. Her efforts were rewarded when Meryl spotted a box cutter nearby, close enough to wriggle over to and grab with one barely-moveable hand. It took some doing, but eventually each rope was cut and she was freed.

That left you-know-who.

"I don't need your…your help." He stammered before she had a chance to pursue the thought. "I don't need a human's help."

She glared at him, even as he did the same to her. "Is that so…? From what I see, you're pretty sick."

"I am…not. I am still able to-" He strained, but the ropes wouldn't budge, head bursting into a colorful migraine. "Pain…" An utter.

And as much as she wanted to just leave him, there was no telling what he would do if their captors came back. The only thing she could do -the only possible route was getting him back to Vash. He'd know what to do.

"I'm going to cut your ropes, so hold still." She said, somewhat shakily. But to her credit, she put on a brave face. One by one they were tossed aside, and it was a tremendous relief that he was in too much pain to protest. That left their last obstacle -the door. Solid hardwood and sealed tight. No amount of tugging or coaxing was going to pry it open.

"Damnit." She cursed. Shuffling around the crates and boxes yielded little fruit, either, not even a crate big enough to break the door down with. Useless.

'Useless.'

Her breath caught.

There was a sharp click. Out of the corner of her eye -a crate of guns for export. One was missing.

"You can't kill me." She tried weakly.

"Oh? Do tell."

He was trying his hardest not to collapse from exhaustion, she could tell. And then again, her voice grew firmer. "You won't kill me." Turning to face him, she was slightly surprised to find him closer than first anticipated. His mere presence pressed her flat against the wall, though he was still a foot away at the very least. "I saved you. From the demolition team, and from the sand storm. I dragged you across the desert to shelter."

"And got me captured."

"And cut you free." Meryl supplied. "You…you owe me."

His gun lowered just barely, and she knew she had him then.

"I owe you nothing. It says more of your stupidity to help the enemy, then my graciousness to accept it."

"Even so…even so, I still helped you. I saved you. Will you kill me now, knowing that you'll forever be indebted?"

"Pathetic insect. You-" Knives recoiled slightly to cough into his hand. "Shut up-"

"And you'll always think of how I pulled you out of that collapsing house while you lay unconscious, knowing full well that if it wasn't for me-"

"Shut up!" He pressed the barrel of the gun tightly into her shoulder, digging into her old gun wound. He was satisfied when she cried out, unable to bite it back. He wasn't the only one who was unwell, it seemed.

"You know it's true…ah-" A wince. "You know-" But he seemed unmoving, silent, calculating with that cold stare.

"Very well." He withdrew the weapon, and her wide eyes flew up towards his narrowed ones.

What?

"I will grant you the right to exist. For now." The barest traces of a devious smile. "As it seems that I cannot let you die until such a disgusting debt has been repaid."

Then Knives stepped away, back turned to her, and she marveled. Had it been her words? Had she truly convinced him? Meryl studied his posture carefully -a tremble. The beginnings of a fever. She knew that it would have been best to bite her tongue, to accept what he had said and simply be on her way. She knew…but then again, logic wasn't one of the things that had gotten her into this situation in the first place.

"We should return to Vash as soon as possible. He should know how to help you."

He ignored her, raising a shaking arm at the door, taking aim.

"Knives!"

One shot, and the lock was taken clean off.

Was it a debt to be repaid? Was it mercy, weakness? Was it her own strength?

"Wh-" She sputtered.

He pushed the door open, turning down the hallway.

"Where are you going? Hey!"

Outside, the Sand Steamer plunged onward. Outside, Knives walked out on the deck, heading for the railing. Below them -an endless sea of sand.

"Where are you going? You can't -you need to come back…to Vash…" She tried, but failed to catch his attention. She slumped, exasperated. "Just what the hell do you plan to do now, huh?" No answer was expected, which was why she found herself surprised when he finally turned to her.

"I'm going…" His expression solid, eyes blinking back something unknown, something decidedly dark and impish; she felt herself caught in that gaze. Her wound pulsed.

"I'm going…to Canaan Land."

She was seized by the wrist, pulled, pulling with hands that were just as stubborn as hers, pulling until she was at the rail's edge beside him, overlooking the ground below. Her mouth went dry.

Oh no.

Oh hell no.

A plea -some feeble attempt at begging, even as his harsh grip left bruises on her skin. And then she felt her stomach being left behind as he leapt off the side of the steamer, dragging her with him. Eyes squinted shut.

A debt? In all honesty?

No, she knew the truth.

It was all just a game for someone else's amusement. And wasn't that just her luck.

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'Open your eyes'.

But I don't want to.

'Don't be stubborn.'

"Ah…" Meryl nursed a bruised ankle. That landing had been anything but graceful. But in a blink, it had been done -they had leapt from the apex of a rather large vessel, and somehow landed without much repercussion. Except now…

She looked over at him, sleeping fitfully on the sand while the sun beat down mercilessly. He was making himself out to be something of a god, she supposed, while he had obviously thought that he could make it out in the hot sun, sick with fever. It was clear now that this was no illness brought on by a gunshot wound. There must have been something else-

"Hey…" Meryl attempted. "Hey, are you…okay?"

He didn't dignify her with a response. Not that he really could, anyway.

Leave him, her mind screamed. Leave him here to die. Do humanity a favor.

But then she took in her surroundings, out in the middle of a god-forsaken wasteland -where was she to even go now?

"If I left you, Vash would never forgive me." She snorted. "Besides, who's to say you wouldn't spring back with a full recovery after I left, then decidedly slaughter everyone on the planet? Then I certainly would be unable to forgive myself."

That earned her even less of a response. She sighed. Great, now what?

"Why did you spare me, anyways?"

His fingers twitched, but she didn't notice.

"Since when…does a mass murderer honor promises?" Her gaze was fixed blankly at the sky. "I'll have to keep a close eye on him, no doubt he's planning something. Maybe a way to get back at Vash…?" She looked back down at him.

Only to find him staring right back.

"Ah!" A screech as she tumbled backwards, quite unlady like. "Wha -how long have you been awake?"

"Long enough to be bothered by your noisy chatter." He groused, lifting himself up shakily.

"Hmph! Well if someone hadn't decided to jump off the god damn-"

"While your species may be weak, I am certainly not."

"Then why did you drag me with you!" She pulled at her hair in frustration. "You don't make any sense! You're insane!"

He smirked then, and let out a long laugh. It carried quite an air to it -hardly jolly, and rather crazed. She shuddered when he stepped closer. "I may have spared your life, but that doesn't mean I can't find some use for you…"

Close enough now, to where she could see the circles under his eyes from lack of rest, from weariness despite his big words. He was doing everything he could to speak without giving that weakness away.

"I…I'm not afraid of you-"

"Then why are you shivering?" He asked.

She frowned up at him. "Why are you?"

The amusement drained from his features, and he threw his hand out to cover her face. Her eyes widened.

"What-"

Meryl felt her body grow weak as something invaded her mind, forcefully, but somewhat flickering. Knives could barely keep himself steady.

"My illness is hindering me." He began. "You will share the burden, so that can make it to my destination in one piece. Sickness does, after all, befit the human race -and you are more stubborn than the rest. I'm sure it won't kill you." A flicker of that grin she had come to fear above all others. "At least not too quickly."

It was not a request, nor a suggestion, and while his audacity would have normally thrown the woman up in arms, she found herself so suddenly entranced. The way he could worm his way into her being, into her mind -even while he was sick with fever…it was amazing, and altogether too terrifying. But her admiration was short lived as she felt a new sensation suddenly thrust upon her, bubbling and fizzing in the pit of her stomach.

Faintly -another laugh, far away and indistinct, his cold blue eyes boring into her as they moved closer…

And then everything faded to black.

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Continued

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Eh? Review, yes?

I bought a new set of steak knives to celebrate this momentous occasion.

foxmagic