Author's Note: I guess it's kind of a requisite to have some sort of an author's note for fan fiction, isn't it? Well, here's the deal. I just couldn't let go of the idea of Meryl's backstory, because so far as I know there isn't a lot that people have done with it. So, here's my take on it. Hope you enjoy.

The general disclaimers apply, as usual. I do not own any of the Trigun canon characters, no matter how much I desire to. Apologies to Yasuhiro Nightow, who I'm sure is a really understanding guy who doesn't want to waste his time suing a broke college student like me.

Well, enough ado. On with the show.

~Silverarm~

~~~

Chapter 1: New Beginnings

"Is that the new agent?"

Along the corridor could be heard the growing sound of sensible heels clicking against the tiled floor. The woman approaching was dressed in a sensible suit, hair styled neatly but not overly elaborate, body held in a posture of, well, sensibility.

Heads turned as she passed, and the observing insurance agents wondered about this new employee. "She certainly looks like a proper, sensible young woman," they mused.

Meryl Stryfe, however, did not feel sensible at all. She felt like an idiot. "These heels are killing me," the young woman thought as she felt herself wobbling mid-stride. She was trying to make a positive first impression, as her mother had insisted she do, but it was so much more horribly tiresome than she'd anticipated. Maintaining proper posture with shoulders held back meant making her spine ache while simultaneously drawing attention to her chest area. Meryl could not help but notice that one of the insurance agents at the water cooler had let his stare become a little too fixed at an angle too low to be directing his gaze at her face. Her face burned in a silent fury.

"Perverts…" she muttered inaudibly, mentally giving the oogler a fist in the gut and knee in the groin. How she'd love to really show them what she was capable of…

But, no. The entire point of taking this job in the first place was to prove once and for all that Meryl Stryfe was not the family's failure. She could be just as responsible and reliable as her older brother, they'd see.

She'd actually put on pantyhose and heels this morning. She'd forgone mascara but compensated by adding a little bit of rouge on the cheeks. Hems were straight. Shoes were shined. Posture was so straight as to be confining. How could her mother object to this image she was projecting?

"Well," she thought a bit guiltily, "I don't suppose insurance agents really need to come to work armed…"

Concealed in her small, sensible handbag was a small, sensible derringer. Old habits die hard, and Meryl felt naked without some sort of a weapon at hand. And really, if they were going to be fair, her parents could not expect her to transform from a rebellious tomboy into a Bernardelli Insurance Agent overnight. A bit of a transition period was entirely acceptable, given the circumstances.

Fingers crossed, she made a silent prayer to any deity that might be listening: "Please, please don't let weapon searches be part of standard Bernardelli procedure…" The only thing more embarrassing than having to work in a dull, confining office for the rest of her days would be to be fired from said employment before receiving a single paycheck or even completing training. Her mother would shrivel up and die of shame -- and then come back as a ghost to haunt Meryl…

"Ms. Stryfe?"

The interrupting voice had come from a man into whom Meryl had nearly walked headlong. His somber, disapproving face peered into hers from a mere two inches away.

"Sir?" she managed hesitantly as she backed up to a safer distance. The man glaring down his nose was none other than her direct superior, Mr. Andrew Andrews (his parents must have thought this was a rather clever choice of name, but Meryl held little doubt that his unpleasant nature had a great deal to do with a lifetime of mockery for it). He was an older, gray-haired man with a permanently sour expression. He must have practiced intimidating glares in the mirror every day since childhood, because Meryl was suddenly hit with an uncontrollable desire to find a large rock to hide underneath.

"I was saying that today will be your first day of training," he said irritably, "so if you'll follow me this way, we can just get this started. I do have other matters to attend to this morning."

Shirking back slightly more, Meryl took a deep breath and steadied herself. He was only one man, however unpleasant, and hopefully she wouldn't be dealing with him on a day-to-day basis once training was complete. She could make it through today if it meant being relatively free of Mr. Andrews for a while afterward.

Andrews began to stalk off, wheezing slightly as he breathed in the manner of emphysema victims everywhere. Meryl trailed behind him at a safe distance as they made their slow and (in Andrews's case) labored way down three corridors, up a flight of stairs, and finally to the ominous looking doorway of a meeting room.

"You'll -wheeze- wait in here," he instructed as he leaned against the doorframe for momentary support. A minute later he had caught his breath enough to depart, though he gave the new employee a final suspicious glare before doing so. Watching Andrews's retreating back, Meryl felt her chest unclench a little and, after a moment or two, gathered up the courage to open the door and step inside.

She'd expected the room to be empty. In a manner of speaking it was because the only other occupant appeared to be off in her own private world.

She… Meryl assumed it was a she. The long hair and the effeminate face indicated someone of the female gender, but Meryl had never seen a woman of such large stature before. She was seated up to a conference table so that only her profile was visible from the doorway, and her face and shoulders were hunched low over her lap. Apparently something of extreme interest was being concealed by the woman's light brown hair and the table.

Curious, Meryl stepped closer. From a slightly different angle, she could see what was occupying all of the woman's concentration. She had string wrapped around her fingers in what Meryl could only presume was some pathetic attempt at a Cat's Cradle.

The gigantic woman must have finally noticed movement out of the corner of her eye, for she then looked up at Meryl with a surprised and delighted expression.

"Hello," she said brightly, tugging her fingers. They appeared to be completely ensnared in the string. "Would you help me, please? I think I might be stuck."

Meryl's jaw involuntarily dropped. She simply could not *believe* this was happening. Was it some sort of a test, she wondered? A quick scan of the room indicated that there was no one else watching, nor any visible cameras. Well, it was hard not to feel a bit sorry for this pathetic creature with her fingers tied up in knots… Meryl shuffled forward and awkwardly reached out to take a look at the tangled mess.

"How did this happen?" Meryl asked, wondering if she even wanted to know the answer.

"Well," the young woman replied cheerfully, "I was trying to learn a Cat's Cradle so I could teach it to my niece." She smiled. "My little niece is going to be five years old this August, and she just loves games and I think she'd like to learn this…"

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry I asked." Meryl had already begun to slip her tiny fingers into the tighter portions of the knot and had loosened it a bit. "But, don't you need two people to play Cat's Cradle?"

"Oh!" The gigantic woman looked surprised. "I hadn't thought of that!"

"Why does that not surprise me?" Meryl muttered beneath her breath as she tugged open a large knot that freed the other woman's hands. The string fell to the floor in a pathetic little heap.

"Would you like to help me learn Cat's Cradle?" the overanxious woman asked.

"Huh?" Meryl seemed to have missed some crucial part of the conversation.

"Would you?" The other woman seemed a bit anxious. "Only, you said it takes two people, and maybe this time I wouldn't get all tangled up…"

"Maybe later," Meryl said quickly. She quickly shifted her gaze away and toward the horrifically blank walls of the conference room. Really, this wasn't the most aesthetically pleasing room she'd ever been in. She turned back to the woman. "So, is this the right place for training?"

The woman's crestfallen face perked up once again, and she grinned vacantly. "Yep. That's what I'm here for. My parents said I should join Bernardelli because it would make me responsible."

Meryl raised her eyebrows. She severely doubted that anything could make this nutcase responsible. "Is that so?" Well, she supposed that it made sense. After all, that was really why she was here as well…

Meryl's childhood had been measured in scraped knees and bruised elbows, stubbed toes and broken dishes. Young Meryl had been no mere child, she'd been an uncontrollable force of nature, like a sandstorm or the like. She'd spent her early years running around with the local boys, scuffing up her nice shoes and tearing new dresses while climbing fences. Her favorite hobbies had been anything involving danger (or at least the danger of being caught and scolded severely by her mother), and when all the neighborhood boys were getting their first guns, Meryl did whatever she could to make sure she got a turn shooting tin cans off of posts. She'd been rather good, too, despite the staunch disapproval of her parents. Meryl had wanted to be a sheriff in some distant town, somewhere far away from home where she didn't have to deal with her family's constant complaints. Her parents wanted Meryl to stay at home and become a teacher in the local school. They'd found a sort of compromise; joining the Bernardelli Insurance Agency was a respectable job, sufficiently boring for her mother to be satisfied, but it was several hundred iles from home, which was good enough for Meryl. The way she figured, if the whole insurance thing didn't work out, she could always pool the rest of her money together and buy a sand steamer ticket to some distant town and start over fresh.

Meryl blinked and snapped back into the here and now. The other woman was staring at her with a rather knowing look, and Meryl got the terrible impression that she knew exactly why she'd been sent here. As idiotic and naïve as this woman looked, she apparently was a bit shrewd after all.

"What did you say your name was?" Meryl asked, knowing that she hadn't mentioned it at all.

"Milly Thompson," the other said warmly.

"Meryl Stryfe. Nice to meet you."