DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

Five years later, Meryl still hadn't managed to heed Vash's wish and forget about him. The closest she could come was remembering not to think about him.

The Bernardelli Insurance Society considered the case of Vash the Stampede closed. When she had argued with them, an internal investigation was opened into her past cases, comparing them with her reports on Vash, It was determined that she had become "emotionally involved with the subject of a company investigation." She was let go.

Meryl was surprisingly ok with that. Milly had come up pregnant by Wolfwood's doing, confirming Meryl's suspicions of what had happened the night before Wolfwood was killed. With child, Milly would not have been allowed to be Meryl's partner on insurance cases anymore. Everything would have changed too much. It was better this way, where they could stay a team and both have a say in their future.

She never came right out and said it, but secretly Meryl needed Milly's friendship. Other people snickered about two girls travelling and living together. Meryl had never swung that way, but even if she had, she saw Milly as her best friend and nothing more. When her son was born, his mother looked in his eyes. Meryl knew what she was seeing, and knew Milly only saw her as her best friend, too.

They didn't have time to care what the world thought, anyway. They were in a new town, where the best work they could find was a step down from the professional insurance world. Milly was able to find work as security in a local bar; the owner had hired her on the spot after she single-handedly broke up a bar fight. She had actually wanted to stay out of it – "Not my fight," she said when the bartender asked the big girl if she would help – then one of the participants spilled her tea. "Now it's my fight."

Meryl found work in a bakery. She started out as the cashier, but was promoted to baker one day when she threw the original baker out the door in a hail of derringer fire when one too many baked goods were not baked properly. She got a pay raise a little while later when, under her bakership, business more than doubled.

It was a tough routine for both of them, trying to balance work with raising a child. It was only natural that Milly had decided to name the boy Nicholas. He had his father's hair and his mother's eyes. He liked to wear a little cross around his neck. Milly was bound and determined that was as close as he would get to his father's habits; she kept him away from anyone who used tobacco, and swore he would never pick up a gun after seeing how well he could use a slingshot.

Meryl's routine, in particular, was hard. She went to bed late and rose early. But she was grateful, because it kept her busy. As long as she was busy, she didn't have time to think about…to miss…back to work!

One night, after a really long day, Meryl was walking home, eagerly awaiting getting her damn shoes off, having a glass of wine and a quick meal, and crawling into bed. Her awareness was overwhelmed by her fatigue.

She suffered the consequences of her lack of awareness when she passed too close by an alley. Rough hands reached out, clamping over her mouth, and pulled her into the darkness. Pressed up against a wall, she felt the thin sharpness of a knife blade against her throat.

"Purse. Wallet. Money. Jewelry. Give it up. Now!" The voice was a harsh whisper; she smelled sour breath, saw dilated pupils. Somebody was out of his mind on something. She hurried to hand over her wallet with all her money in it; she had never been one to carry a purse, which got in the way of drawing her derringers.

"What else? What else?" One hand still holding the knife to her neck, ready to cut if she screamed, the other roamed over her going places no hands should without permission. Meryl was afraid she knew where this was headed.

Her hand managed to pull out a derringer. All she had to do was pull the trigger, and it would be over…

Except she had never killed a man before. And the days of her fast reflexes, the days with Vash, were long over. She flashed on his face in her mind, wished he were here.

"Vash…" she breathed.

She shifted her aim, closed her eyes, and squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out.

The man howled in pain and went down, clutching at his bleeding crotch for something that wasn't there anymore.

Meryl looked at the smoking derringer. Did I actually do it?

She didn't see where her shot had just grazed him. Common sense took control. Meryl scooped up her wallet and ran for home. She hadn't wanted to kill the man in the alley, but she didn't have to save his life, either. Someone else could worry about that. Meryl would worry about herself at this moment.

Behind her, a silhouette in the alley faded back into the darkness as he holstered his heavy gun.

Eyes flashed a glowing blue.

Nobody hurts Meryl. Not while I'm watching over her.