A/N: For those confused about the chronology, this is supposed to take place after "Hard Puncher" and before the gang runs into Wolfwood.

Dancing Mad

Part One

"You did what?"

Meryl Stryfe, premier insurance claims investigator – or so she would like to think of herself, as opposed to "Vash the Stampede's babysitter" – slammed both hands down on the table, fixed her charge with an incredulous stare. The outlaw's customary breakfast of half a dozen donuts overturned from the force of the blow, and they went tumbling into his lap. Picking one up and brushing it off on his coat, he whined:

"Oh, come on, you're saying I can't even have any fun now?"

"This isn't about you having fun!" she retorted. "This is about you bringing the entire March Grand Hotel down around our ears!"

"I'll be good, I promise," he said, before popping the donut in his mouth.

"Even if that was true – which I highly doubt – how are the guests going to react when they realize that Vash the Stampede is skulking about the ballroom?"

"Well they won't know that I'm Vash," the gunman protested. "I went to the mayor using one of my brilliant aliases."

Millie Thompson, Meryl's statuesque partner, spoke up cheerfully. "Would that be Mister John Smith, Mister Vash?"

"That's the one," he said proudly, and Meryl had to resist the urge to leap across the table and strangle him.

The reason for her ire was very simple. After an exhausting eighteen-hour bus ride across the desert, the group had finally pulled into March City in the early hours of the morning. However, rather than head for an inn and the comfort of a warm bed, as common sense would dictate, the short girl had instead been forced to acquiesce to the demands of her two traveling partners, who insisted that they were starving to death even when she had clearly seen them sharing the last bag of pretzels not even thirty minutes ago. Allowing herself to be dragged – literally – over the pristine city roads, she had soon found herself in a kitschy diner. The small girl attempted to console herself with a pot of hot black coffee and a newspaper, while Vash went to use the bathroom.

When he came back, he announced that he was now one of the guards for the March City Annual Ball, the most prestigious black-tie event within five hundred iles. If the coffee cup had been anywhere near Meryl's lips at that moment, she would have drank from it and spit on him just out of spite.

"C'mon, it'll be fun," Vash was saying now, somehow making himself heard over the buzzing headache that filled her skull like static from an ancient radio. "I impressed the mayor so much with my sharpshooting that he hired me on the spot! And he got me a free suite in the hotel, plus two tickets to the party!" He pulled out a pair of golden tickets and waved them about proudly. "So you guys can come to the party, and keep an eye on me!"

That did sound nice. Still, Meryl wasn't going to be persuaded so easily. "We don't have anything to wear," she said, lowering her head until her forehead was touching the table. "I can't just show up to a ball in a pencil skirt and a cape! And poor Millie – all she has to wear is that giant poncho!"

"That's not all I'm wearing," Millie said helpfully, and the outlaw had to duck under the table just then to hide the rising blush in his neck and cheeks. Rather than deck him for being a pervert, however, Meryl just sighed.

"I guess, maybe... we could go to the department store and get something."

Millie smiled broadly. "Yeah, that sounds like fun, Sempai! And maybe we could put it down as a work-related expense!"

"Maybe," Meryl said, but she doubted it.

Millie stood in a corner of the expansive ballroom, trying to be inconspicuous, but failing due to her rather conspicuous size. When a waiter passed by bearing a large tray of champagne, Millie reached for her third glass of the bubblie. She didn't want to admit it, but she was beginning to feel awkward and bored. Out on the dance floor, couples twirled and glided gracefully as the live musicians that had been hired for the party began to transition into a waltz number. To pass the remaining time, she smoothed out her dress, which had wrinkled slightly, and played a bit with her hair, which Meryl had put in an updo for her.

Despite Sempai's initial reluctance to go clothes shopping, she had certainly thrown herself into the task as soon as they had reached the department store. In no time at all she had found an absolutely stunning yellow ballroom gown, made with material so soft that both girls marveled at the touch. Meryl had been hesitant about buying it – it was $$300, half of what she made in a week! – but Millie swore she'd regret it forever if she passed up this opportunity. Sempai mumbled something about killing Vash later for this, but she couldn't hide the sparkle in her eyes as the cashier rung up her purchase.

Millie had had a harder time of it, unfortunately. Back home her family had made all of her clothes by hand, and for a very good reason: it was almost impossible to find anything that fit her. Because of this, Millie didn't really like to go clothes shopping, despite all her outward professions of enthusiasm. She was happy for Sempai, of course – but she couldn't help feeling left out, all the same.

Sempai, bless her, had tried very hard to pretend that Millie's size wasn't a problem, and the two searched high and low for something that would fit her and not look like a tent. At last they stumbled upon an area that dealt solely in larger sizes for women's clothing, and also offered on-site hemming services. Millie felt herself gravitating towards an old-fashioned, but not inelegant, dinner dress, and Meryl waited patiently while the big girl put the dress on and then stood as still as possible for the benefit of the seamstress, who began to painstakingly take in the waist. When she had finished, both women stood back and admired her. "You look just like a princess, Millie," Meryl said. Millie had beamed.

She felt more like an ogre than a princess now. Three hours into the party, and no one had talked to her, let alone asked her to dance. Not that Millie knew how to dance, anyway. She did know a dance from back home exceptionally well, but Meryl had told her that the shag wasn't the kind of thing people did here. As for Meryl, the poor girl was being shuttled from one male admirer to another... but at least they were taking some kind of interest in her, even if their attentions were unwanted. Millie, for her part, only seemed to inspire fear in them. Every man who had approached the pair to ask Sempai for a dance had eyed the bigger girl with trepidation, as though she was some hulking bodyguard just looking for an excuse to tear them in half.

From within the circle of the arms of her latest dance partner, Meryl gazed out at Millie sadly. She hadn't wanted to take the men up on their offers, but the bigger girl had insisted she get out there and "let your hair down for once, Sempai!" Meryl's eyes met Millie's briefly, and her junior partner gave a huge smile and waved before Meryl found herself being swept into the crowd once more.

Millie drained her glass of champagne, which she realized left her with nothing to do except twiddle her thumbs until the waiter passed by again. She wondered if she should go to the dinner hall, but she wasn't really hungry, and besides, she didn't want to be needlessly taking food away from someone who might want it.

A familiar voice interrupted the monotony. "What are you doing here all by yourself?"

Millie looked up to see Vash standing there, regarding her with curiosity. "Oh, hi, Mister Vash," Millie said gaily. "Have you decided to take a break from your guard duties?"

"Heh, sort of," the gunslinger answered, placing a hand behind his head. "Actually, I'm so bored I decided to come out here. There hasn't been hide nor hair of any intruders so far." He laughed softly, then straightened up. "You look really pretty tonight, Millie."

"Thank you," Millie replied with a smile. "I think you look very nice too."

Vash looked confused. "But I'm just wearing the same clothes like always."

"Yes, and you always look nice. I thought now would be a good time to let you know."

"Oh..." The look of confusion melted away, to be replaced with one of gratitude. "Thank you. So what have you been up to?" he asked with a wave of his arm, indicating the entirety of the ballroom. "It doesn't seem like you to be standing on the sidelines like this."

"Oh, you know..." Millie's tone was light, but the gunman didn't miss the slightly crestfallen look in her eyes. "Drinking."

Vash frowned. "Drinking?"

"Yes, drinking."

"That's no good," he said. "I was going to ask you to dance with me, but if you're too sloshed..."

"It's just wine, Mister Vash," Millie said good-naturedly. "They don't serve hard liquor at these types of parties." That was something else Sempai had told her, which the big girl found disappointing.

Vash smiled and clasped his hands. "Great! In that case, would you care to join me for a waltz?"

"Gosh, I'd like to, Mister Vash, but it seems like you're asking because you feel sorry for me." He wasn't and she knew it, but the big girl feared making a fool of herself on the dance floor, and so she scrambled for any excuse to resist him.

In response, Vash turned on the charm – or at least, in his estimation, it was charm. Most women would have found his performance completely ridiculous, and not worthy of consideration. He bent down on one knee, held out his hands to her in supplication. "Non, vous j'aime, Mademoiselle! Voudriez-vous danser avec moi?"

Millie, for her part, wasn't most women, and she found the gunslinger's lack of charm to be oddly endearing. "Well, since you're asking so nicely..." She placed her empty glass on the floor, and her cheeks involuntarily flushed when she met Vash's enthusiastic gaze. "I guess I'll dance with you."

She let him lead her out onto the dance floor, where he slid his arm around her waist and grasped her hand delicately in his own. Before they could get moving, however, Millie confessed: "I don't really know how to waltz."

"It's okay," he said implacably, "just follow my lead," and then they were moving, hesitantly at first, and then faster, as the music around them swelled and an ineffable feeling of lightness crept into her legs and –

The heel of her shoe came down on his foot, hard.

Vash's high-pitched scream of pain turned the head of every partygoer in the room. The musicians came to a screeching halt right in the middle of Tchaikovsky's Waltz of the Flowers, momentarily stunned. On the other side of the room, Meryl could be seen turning white and gripping the fingers of her dance partner so tightly it was a small miracle they didn't come off in her hand.

Once his screams subsided and everyone else had returned to their business, the big girl tried to pull away from him. "I'm sorry, Mister Vash... I'll just be going now..." She kept her head down so he wouldn't see the shame that burned plainly in her face.

"But we barely got started," Vash protested, holding her fast. "You've never waltzed before, so you can't give up just because you're not perfect at it."

"It's not that, Mister Vash," Millie said, still attempting to extricate herself. "It's just... I'm going to hurt you if we keep going."

"I'm fine," the gunslinger insisted, even though tears continued to leak out of his eyes from his foot's first encounter with Millie's formidable high-heeled pumps. "At least, let's keep going until this song is over, okay?"

"Well... all right," the big girl said reluctantly.

He began to lead her through the steps of the dance again. Even though he moved much more slowly this time, and Millie tried very hard to match the gunslinger's movements, she still found herself stepping on his feet every few seconds. To his credit, Vash only winced silently, trying not to show how much pain he was in. When at long last the song ended, he didn't loosen his grip on her. Knowing it would be pointless to try to escape, the big girl stood there silently, wondered what was going to happen next.

"One more," he said softly, his breathing labored from withholding exclamations of agony. "Let's just do one more song."

Meryl's current dance partner was nothing short of obnoxious. In addition to wearing a gaudy yellow tuxedo and top hat, his breath was terrible, and he seemed to take immense joy in expounding endlessly on subjects she couldn't care less about. Also, he seemed only able to repeat the same four dance steps over and over, so that the two had barely made any headway on the dance floor.

Not even pretending to pay attention to his prattlings, Meryl's eyes idly swept over the length of the ballroom, where they finally came to settle on the forms of Vash and Millie dancing. Even though Vash was taking a lot of pain for his troubles – the bigger girl's clumsy movements fell out of step with his own, leading him to getting frequently kicked or stepped on – he seemed to be enjoying himself, all the same.

The man, realizing that yet another woman he was attempting to romance was growing bored with him, suddenly interrupted himself. "Hey, why do you keep looking back at the guy in the red coat?" he asked, a look of injured pride in his face. "You don't like him more than me, do you?"

Meryl looked away quickly. Millie looked happy, so the shorter girl should be happy too. After all, it wasn't as though she were – jealous – or anything so stupid as that. In fact, when this was all over, she thought she was going to march right up to Millie and remind her of Vash's reputation as a "womanizer." But not right now. Right now (provided that the broomhead behaved himself), Millie should be allowed to enjoy her evening.

I'm just trying to protect her, Meryl thought. But somehow the sentiment rang hollow, and she bit her lip, feeling suddenly and inexplicably guilty. Meanwhile, with his insecurities seemingly redressed, the man quickly launched back into a speech about the Outer's most profitable exports.

Millie had settled into a natural groove over time, her body obeying the unspoken commands of the strains of music that filled the air. Strangely enough, the music felt incredibly close by – close enough that she could feel it tickling her ears, in fact. After a few moments, she realized it was coming from her dancing partner. Vash was singing.

"So, on the second celestial evening... all the children of their pebbles joined hands and composed a waltz..."

His voice was soft and mellow, a far cry from the usual boisterous edge it held at any given moment. Millie closed her eyes, drank it in. Plunged into darkness, she found herself in a world occupied by nothing but the sound of his voice and an accompanying feeling of weightlessness. Moments later she joined in with him:

"So, on the third celestial evening... all the children of their waltz rippled across the world's face..."

"You know that song?" he asked, prompting her to open her eyes and return to reality somewhat.

"Oh, yes," she affirmed happily. "It's one of my very favorites. My mama would sing it to me when I was little, every time me and my family drove out to the middle of the desert to go stargazing on clear nights."

He smiled at her. "It's my favorite, too. Every time I hear it I want to dance, just like this. But I never had anyone to do it with until now."

"Gosh, that's a shame."

"Nah, it's okay," he said with an amicable shrug. He was far too self-dismissive, the big girl thought. "Especially since I have such a nice partner to dance with now."

"I've hardly been nice," Millie said sadly, adding: "I think that foot of yours is going to need bandages before the night is through."

"It's a small price to pay," Vash said, giving her a hearty wink. The soft, ethereal – romantic, even? – atmosphere dissipated in that moment, as the band started up a particularly dissonant, staccato-driven section of The Soldier's Tale.

"Goody! It's time for the ballroom tango!" Vash exclaimed with a whoop of glee. "I think this will be more up your alley, Big Girl."

Millie knew he was right, but she was still going to miss the measured, orderly steps of the waltz, along with the gunslinger's singing. She really did love that song, and his voice had been so gentle... shaking her head to clear away these confusing thoughts, Millie quickly afforded herself a glance around at the other couples. Tango was a more free-form style of dancing, wasn't it? Maybe she wouldn't have to take Mister Vash's lead on this one. At least that way she could definitely avoid hurting him.

One of the couples, who had clearly grown sick of all the waltzing from earlier and were now throwing themselves into the new style of dance with wild abandon, veered dangerously close to Vash and Millie. As Vash gripped the big girl around the waist and lifted her up effortlessly to avoid a run-in, the man leaned forward and brought his partner into a dip. Millie thought that looked like fun. Once she was back on her feet, she wasted no time: slinging her arm around Vash's waist, she dipped him until his spikes were just barely brushing the ballroom floor.

"Whoa," Vash laughed as he went down. "I wasn't expecting that!"

Millie giggled and brought him back up to face her. "I'm starting to really have fun now, Mister Vash."

"Me too," he said, looking at her happily. "I – " He stopped just then, and for a fraction of a second a deadly serious expression crossed his face. Millie felt a shiver travel up her spine, but when she blinked, his customary smile had returned. "I'm sorry," he said. "Could you excuse me for a second?"

"S-sure, Mister Vash," Millie said, shaken. "But what is it that you need to – "

He was already halfway across the room by the time she had finished her sentence. "Je suis dèsolé, je vous prie de me pardonner!" the gunslinger called back to her as he raced through the throngs of dancers. "À bientôt, cherie!"

"Er... bye," Millie said awkwardly, holding up her hand.

Her other hand she placed over her heart, in an attempt to steady the rapid-fire pulse that rocked her chest; and she realized, just then, that it had nothing to do with the mood whiplash from seconds ago, and everything to do with the dance they had just shared. Her cheeks burned with a strange fever. She didn't want Mister Vash to go.

Being around him then, it felt... really nice.

Oh, my.

Seconds after Millie had brought him out of the dip, Vash had caught sight of something that disturbed him. In a darkened corridor several hundred feels away – but not too far away to escape the notice of his keen eyes – a small group of men were clustered together, as though waiting for something. To anyone else, they would have looked innocent enough – all of the men were dressed in sharp-looking tuxedos and wearing identical, highly stylized masks, as though dressed to attend a masquerade function – but their minute, slightly jerky movements suggested uneasiness. Vash instantly knew they weren't supposed to be there. Then a glint of steel shone briefly from the pocket of one of the strangers' tailored suits, confirming what he already suspected.

Robbers.

Dammit. And just when me and the big girl were really starting to have a good time...

He excused himself, made his way through the dancing crowd, straight towards the hallway that was currently occupied by bandits.

What the hell is he doing? Meryl thought, at once irritated and relieved as Vash suddenly departed from the ballroom, leaving Millie alone in the middle of the dance floor. The nerve of him! You don't just leave someone high and dry like that. Once again her attention had wandered away from the man she was dancing with, whose name, she had learned through some improbable twist of fate, was Fred. Fred, as it turned out, was just as bad at the tango as he was at the waltz, so after a few minutes of stumbling around like a lunatic he had finally just given up and stood there, boasting of a college pedigree as long as her arm.

"And then I got my Master's at Pilgrim University in December – that's the equivalent of Harvard back on Earth, did you know that? – and then – " He stopped, visibly perturbed, when he saw that the short girl was paying him not an iota of attention. "You were looking at that guy again, weren't you! What is it about him, anyway? He's not even dressed properly for this occa – "

"Help! Help! Robbers! I've been kidnapped!"

Men dressed in matching masks and tuxedos suddenly filed into the room, creating a circle in the middle of the crowd. Each man had on him a fearsome-looking pistol, and Meryl wasn't much surprised to see that one of them had Vash in a headlock, the barrel of his pistol pressed into the outlaw's temple. Vash, for his part, continued to cry large, noisy tears, broadcasting to the entire room that – yes – there were robbers, and – yes – this was an Emergency Situation.

A man as round as he was tall, with salt-and-pepper hair – presumably the mayor, and the man who had bought Vash's services for the ball – wrung his hands, stared at the robbers in disbelief. "But, Mister John Smith!" he cried out in consternation. "You were supposed to be our ace gunman! How could this have happened?"

In response, Vash cried: "I want my mommy!"

"Let's get out of here, Mary!" Fred said, tugging at Meryl's shoulder, but she ignored him.

"Damn! Why does this always happen when you're around, Vash?" she muttered through clenched teeth, and before Fred could react at the mention of the Humanoid Typhoon's name, the short girl had withdrawn a single derringer that she had secretly attached to her thigh while freshening up at the hotel room. As she could really only take one weapon with her to the party, Meryl had opted for a Remington model rather than her single-shot standard issue. At least if she missed her target the first time, she'd get one more chance.

Fred let out a rather girlish scream when he saw the gun, and he attempted to beat a hasty retreat, but was stopped by the sound of one of the bandits' guns going off. "Nobody move! This is a robbery!" he yelled, and before Meryl could point her derringer at him he had his own gun instantly trained on her. "You there, put that thing away, or you'll be the first to die!"

Meryl looked at Vash, whose tearful expression hadn't changed, but she knew the gunslinger well enough to realize that he probably had some sort of plan, and that it didn't include her getting shot. With an enormous sigh and a glare – not at the masked bandit, but at Vash – she dropped the derringer.

The man who had spoken – he seemed to be the ringleader of the group – remained in the middle of the circle, nodded at one of his cohorts, who strode up to the first line of couples and had them hand over their jewelry and wallets. Meryl felt terribly uneasy as the man's gun passed over each guest, prompting them to beg for mercy and place their valuables at his feet. Then she realized why:

Millie was in the front row of guests, exactly where Vash had left her.

The big girl trembled as the barrel of the robber's gun fell on her. "Hand it over," he said. "Cash, jewelry, whatever you've got."

"I... I don't have anything..." Millie kept her head down, and she barely spoke above a whisper.

"You're lying," the man said, but he sounded uncertain. After a moment in which neither of them said or did anything, the leader of the group spoke up.

"Search her," he said harshly. "And don't overlook any areas, if you know what I mean."

His cohort continued to hesitate. "But..."

"Just do it, idiot!" the leader said, waving his gun threateningly.

Slowly, shakily, the subordinate approached Millie. Still keeping his pistol aimed at her with one hand, the man reached forward with his other and began to awkwardly pat down Millie's body. At first he avoided Millie's "other areas," but when his boss gave him a dangerous grunt, he reluctantly placed his hand on her bosom. Meryl's fear and outrage became a palpable thing when she saw tears of humiliation shining in Millie's eyes.

Meryl turned to look back at Vash, who looked just as horrified as she did, but that didn't stop her from burning holes in him with her eyes. "You goddamn idiot!" she screamed at him. "If you're going to do something, do it!"

The robber holding Vash hostage, who mistakenly thought that he was the recipient of the short girl's ire, removed his gun from Vash's temple and pointed it at her. "Don't tell me what to do, you bit – "

His voice broke off into a choked gasp when Vash suddenly removed himself from the headlock with ease, wrapped his fingers tightly around the hand that was gripping the pistol. Before any of the other robbers could react – could realize what was even happening – he deftly swung the bandit's hand in a circle, squeezing the trigger every few seconds. With every shot that rang out, each robber gasped in turn as the weapon he had been wielding suddenly flew out his hands, clattering on the floor several feels away, far out of reach. Now disarmed and totally helpless, they turned to face Vash. The gunslinger released his hold on the bandit's hand, and said bandit quickly whirled around to point the gun in his face, squeeze the trigger –

It clicked, empty.

Giggling childishly at the bandit's disbelief, Vash picked up one of the wayward guns, fired a single shot into the ceiling. There was a precipitous creaking sound, and in a flash Meryl understood why Vash had waited so long to act: during the heist, the bandits had slowly but surely tightened the circle they made in the center of the room, seeking safety in numbers, until finally they were huddled against one another's backs.

Directly under the ballroom chandelier.

The robbers screamed and tried to run for it, but it was too late; in seconds the extravagant light fixture had come crashing down on their hapless bodies. At the same time, many of the masks peeled off of their faces, revealing countenances of varying degrees of ugliness. They began cursing with pain and struggling to free themselves from the wreckage, but were soon shrieking in terror when they saw Vash casually amble up to them, take back the silver revolver that he had allowed the lead bandit to steal from him in their initial scuffle.

All of this happened in the span of thirty seconds. The entire room was shocked into silence. Even Meryl was speechless: no matter how many times she saw him perform incredible stunts like this, she could never truly get used to it.

"Vash..." she finally managed to say, but Vash was already making his way over to Millie.

Millie couldn't seem to stop shaking, try as she might. The big girl had been stunned into paralysis at the appearance of the robbers, and their subsequent attempt to search her for valuables. She wiped at her eyes, which continued to water, and sobbed quietly. She could feel the eyes of the other guests on her.

Then strong arms were suddenly wrapping themselves around her, and she retreated into Mister Vash's warmth and scent, heedless of everything but the small, dark space between their bodies. Her knees buckled beneath her, and he gently guided her to the floor. She felt his hand cradling her head, stroking her hair, and she cried into his chest.

"Millie," he said softly. "I'm so sorry. I should have acted sooner..."

Millie didn't say anything, simply let herself be held. For what seemed an eternity they stayed like that, until finally Meryl's voice pierced the fog of oblivion they had wrapped around themselves:

"Vash, one of the robbers – he's getting away!"

Meryl smiled slightly as she watched Vash comfort Millie. The niggling feeling of jealousy – all right, I know when to call a spade a spade! – she'd been experiencing all evening was nothing compared to her overwhelming relief that her friend was going to be okay. Lost in these thoughts, the short girl didn't notice when the irrepressible Fred stole up next to her, and she yelped in surprise when he suddenly said, in a nasally whine:

"See, Mary, that guy doesn't even like you that way. He's obviously enamored with the large woman. So I say we get out of here, forget this whole ordeal, maybe find ourselves a nice hotel ro – "

Meryl's fist automatically shot out in response, caught Fred in the nose. She'd had more than enough of this moron for one night. The yellow-clad man reeled backwards, clutching his injured face, and began to unleash a litany of bizarre insults (among them "you insufferable harlot!") before running away sobbing.

Meryl reached down for her Remington. I will not shoot I will not shoot I will not shoot –

Before her fingers could close around the handle, however, a gloved hand suddenly shot out, snatching the gun away.

"Don't move," came a voice from above her. It was the man who had been forced to search Millie. In the confusion, he had managed to quietly free himself from the wreckage that had pinned down him and his comrades.

"You bastard," Meryl whispered, but she obeyed. There was a sound of footsteps trailing away from her, followed by the frightened moans of the guests. When she guessed that the man was safely out of earshot, she raised her head and sounded the alarm to Vash.

Vash wasted no time. With a final reassuring squeeze of Millie's shoulder, he was up on his feet and chasing the robber within seconds.

Bastard! I won't forgive you for what you did to Millie!

Anger and adrenaline fueled the outlaw's movements as he went tearing out of the ballroom and through the hotel's lobby; eventually he found himself outside in the frigid desert air. Barely taking notice of the cold, Vash turned his furious gaze in all directions, trying to make out which way the robber had gone.

"There!" Out of the corner of his eye, Vash spotted the robber attempting to surreptitiously sneak into a nearby bar. When the man realized he'd been spotted, he gave up on trying to disappear into a crowd and bolted behind the building. Vash followed him.

To the outlaw's increasing frustration, however, his quarry was equally motivated to stay out of his reach. Innocent passersby were shoved aside as the man ran in a zig-zag pattern, no doubt thinking that this would help throw off his pursuer. Vash was forced to catch the townspeople before they could crash painfully to the ground, wasting precious seconds in his chase. All the while, he never took his eyes off the robber. At long last, the man had no recourse but to abandon the crowd that he had been using to delay Vash and disappear into a more abandoned section of town.

Vash rounded another corner, beginning to despair that he would ever catch up in time, when Millie's voice suddenly rang out out of nowhere:

"TAKE COVER, MISTER VASH!"

Without understanding why, the gunman instinctively ducked, only to gibber in comic disbelief when he saw the big girl standing on a nearby rooftop, expertly balancing her concussion gun on one shoulder. She cut a rather gorgeous figure as she stood there, still garbed in her ravishing blue dinner dress, but the outlaw didn't have time to appreciate the image as a metal cross suddenly shot out from the gun, straight towards her former assailant. With a yelp of fear and surprise, the man went down.

"That's for taking advantage of an innocent maiden!" Millie said in a voice that was disturbingly cheerful.

"Thanks, Big Girl!" Vash called up to Millie, who shot him a thumbs up by way of reply.

Unfortunately the man was fleet of foot, and he quickly regained his bearings, clambering to his feet and breaking for an adjoining alley. As Vash drew closer to where the man fell, he saw that his mask had fallen off when he had been struck by Millie's unique brand of ammunition. Seconds later, the outlaw was joined by both of the insurance girls, whom he motioned to stay behind him as he followed into the darkened alley.

There, at the alley's end, they encountered the robber, attempting to make one last stand with the stolen derringer. "Stay back!" he screamed, keeping it trained on them, albeit with a trembling hand.

"Vash," Meryl said, her voice hitching with surprise. "He's just a kid!"

"Huh?" Vash looked closer, and found that the short insurance girl was right. The robber had short, sandy-blond hair, and the pupils in his bright blue eyes constricted with a mounting sense of panic. He looked barely out of his teens. What in the world was he doing trying to rob a hotel? Vash wondered.

"Stay back, I said!" In response Vash quickly disarmed, letting his Colt fall to the sand, and he nodded at Millie, who did the same. The stun gun made a rather impressive crashing sound as it struck the ground, spooking the young robber, but not enough to make him either drop his weapon or start shooting.

With his hands held high in the air, Vash looked at the boy for a long time, his gaze gentle yet unwavering. After a moment, he began to take a few steps forward. The boy gasped, but said and did nothing.

"You don't have to do this," Vash said gravely, advancing slowly but surely towards the young man. "You don't look any older than seventeen. If you give yourself up now, I'm sure the judge will be lenient – "

"NO! I'm not going to jail!" the boy screamed, and this time he did fire the gun. Millie and Meryl both flinched, but Vash remained completely still. The bullet ricocheted harmlessly off the wall next to him.

"You have one more shot left," he said. "Do you really want to harm me or these young ladies, just to avoid jail time?"

"This isn't about me," the young man said through gritted teeth, his eyes narrowing with a resolve none of them could place. "If I have to kill all three of you, I will. Now let – me – through."

Vash was growing angry now. "What the hell is your problem? I'm offering you a peaceful way out of this. If you'd stop being a stubborn brat and just listen – "

"It's my wife!" the young man suddenly burst out, his voice taking on an edge of desperation. Vash blinked, stunned.

"Your wife? You're... married?"

"I can't let myself be taken in," the boy said, and now all three of them were shocked to see tears pouring down his face. "If... if I go to jail now... my wife...

...my wife will die!"

A/N: Whee, to be continued! I scripted this out like an episode of the show in my mind, so just imagine the eyecatcher and catchy guitar riff going here, haha.

Also, I shirked homework to write this, so please review if you liked it. I know the fandom is pretty much on life support right now (if not totally dead), but there must be at least a few Vash/Millie fans out there, yes? :D

Oh yeah, some translations for the French:

"No, I like you, milady! Would you like to dance with me?"

"I'm sorry, forgive me! Until later, darling!"