Meryl lay on her back staring up at the stars. The tears that had blurred them had long since dried. It was cold on the roof and she was bone achingly tired. Sorrow, though dulled by exhaustion, ate at her heart. She wished Milly were there. Somehow seeing Milly's smile and having her simple faith in her always allowed her to pull herself together quickly. However, without being accountable to another, she wallowed in self-pity. The memory of his touch warmed her, and the agony and frustration of her hand grasping air instead of his coat burned with cold. She felt as though she was again coming down with fever. She closed her eyes, perhaps it was possible to die of exposure out here. She breathed out. It would be peaceful to be dead, no heartache and worry. The cynical side of her mind immediately kicked in pointing out that she had chased Vash for several months before finding him, and she would simply do it again. She scrunched her nose at the uncaring twinkling stars. That was the problem with being practical; she could never entertain a deep self-pity session.

It was then that she heard it. A meowing noise. Ugh. She had had enough of cats. Vash still had the scratch on his nose. Ugh. Why was she even thinking about that ungrateful man? Plant. Winged angel… aaagh. Not thinking of Vash, not at all. The noise came again. No. This wasn't a meowing. It was a higher mewling. She forced herself upright and stared at the bundle of clothes. He hadn't. She half staggered, half pushed herself across the flat roof to the bundle and lifted the edge of the towel. On top of her clothes, nestled across the typewriter were six kittens and a protective mother cat that hissed at her. She stood in a half stoop staring at the soft bundles of fur fighting for their place at a milk tit.

"Vash the Stampede." She breathed. She was furious. No, she was beyond furious. He had hugged her. Flown her to some strange town, no, city by the large cluster of globes on the ships arc. And had ditched her without an explanation and simply expected her to look after his pets. Ooh. This deserved revenge on a fine scale. Vash would not know what had hit him by the time she was through. No, scratch that. He would. She would find a way to etch "I owe Meryl Stryfe" onto his prosthetic arm. $$60 billion would not even begin to pay back the debt he owed her.

Fury lent her energy like nothing else. She swung herself onto the fire escape and staggered down it. Even with fury driving her she had to rest at each landing. She made it to the hotel's back yard and found a large beer crate that would be suitable for housing cats. She then walked around to the front of the hotel and up the steps. She had enough for a single room for one night. This was a city, there would be a branch of Bernadelli and she would find a more economical hotel in the morning.

The concierge stared at the crate but said nothing and gave her a room on the upper floor. There were no lifts. By the time she had found her room, fetched down the hissing and mewling cats along with her bundle of clothes, room service had delivered her supper. She put down food for the cat and ravenously ate the rest. She sat on the edge of the bed to take off her shoes, and with a sigh, collapsed sideways and fell asleep.

.

Vash woke three hours later. The rock had not become any softer as he had slept. He picked himself up stiffly and stretched out his wings. He felt better; if slightly less exhausted and empty from crying was better. He slung his pack onto his shoulders taking extra care, before remembering that he had left the nest of cats with Meryl. He smiled through the sorrow that wound through him. She had a protective nature, they would be well cared for. Perhaps it would help her not miss him so much - if he had correctly interpreted the heartbreak in her voice as she had called his name.

He took a deep breath, chasing the melancholy thoughts from his mind. There was more at stake here than a bruised heart. He grimly set his jaw and leaped out from the rock to glide into town. Gliding was quickly becoming one of his deep joys, much like walking the desert was. There was a knack to it, and once one had it; there existed a quiet peaceful place for the mind to rest in.

He landed on the boarding house roof and slipped back in to the house. He searched it thoroughly. Wolfwood had taken his Punisher, that was good. Milly's stun gun was missing too, that was better. They had had time to take their weapons, so there must have been some sort of warning. He returned the boxes of bullets he had discarded to his pack and picked up Meryl's bag. He returned upstairs, bypassing Milly's and Wolfwood's rooms, throwing what stuff he could see into Meryl's pink bag. He then stashed the suitcase in the attic and hid it as best he could. There would be looters through the town as soon as word got out, and perhaps they would miss their things.

He realised then that he was procrastinating. He had the choice of hunting his brother or finding where Wolfwood and Milly had gone. No, he would not find his brother by simply flapping around, there were bound to be other clues, but that sort of hunting took time. Time, perhaps, that Wolfwood and Milly did not have. He returned to the kitchen and ate doughnuts from the box that Meryl thought she had successfully hidden in the tin labelled laundry powder. He grinned as a warm flood of mischief and happiness invaded his fear and darkness. They never spoke of it, as that would spoil the game, but she seemed to like hiding such boxes from him, as she never scolded when she discovered them missing.

The comforting memory soon succumbed to the sinking pit of despair. He hunched his shoulders against the searing anguish that uncertainty and fear poured down his inner being. No. He could not cry again now. Even if he could never see her again, he would find Milly and Wolfwood, they would keep her company. He tried to ignore the nudge at the back of his mind that reasoned it would be comforting going up against his brother with a friend at his side. That was one of the very many reasons he really liked Wolfwood. The man also had serious dealings -a vendetta almost- with his brother. He threw the box in the trash and walked out through the broken front door. There were a few things he would need from this abandoned town before he could go on the hunt. And not in the least something to distract him from how very afraid he was.


The day before:

Wolfwood had his hands full, literally. He had tied his Punisher to his belt and it was dragging behind him in the sand. Milly's stun gun hung across his back by its sling, and he carried Milly over his shoulder in a fireman's hold. She was unconscious, and thus much less trouble than she had been. He had calculated the blow to her head and hoped she would not have too much of a headache later. He could not think what to do next and that was making him agitated. He had three cigarettes left and the potential lack was eating at him. However, the worst, the very worst, of the situation was that he had watched the people of the town walk out into the desert. Milly had followed them, glassy eyed and unresponsive to his calling. He had tried to grab her and she had rounded on him with her stun gun. He had dodged the first claw, and had knocked her senseless before she could fire a second. She was clearly not functioning with her own mind and neither were the people.

He had followed the people for half an ile, the distance between them growing more by the second as he had his punisher, Milly's stun gun, and Milly herself as baggage. He tried to keep up the pace, but fell steadily further and further behind. Then suddenly the sands shifted and a huge worm crested the dunes not fifty yarz from where he stood, then was gone under the sands again. He froze and stared around him in panic. No! Gah! This was worst than anything! He glanced around for Vash as this was his level of rotten luck. He gritted his teeth as he remembered that was why he and Milly had been out. Vash had flown off. Vanished somewhere, leaving them all behind.

He quite liked sandworms for how impressive they looked, arcing over the dunes in the distant desert. He did not like them less than fifty yarz from his person. They were so devastatingly enormous, yet rumour had it they could detect a toma chick strutting across the sands. He realised he had frozen. While standing still was a good defence, he could not remain so far out from the bedrock and in worm desert. His eyes settled on the nearest outcrop of rock, perhaps five hundred yarz away, he would have to head for that. He checked the distance he now had between him and the crowd of townsfolk he was following and his jaw dropped. He raised his sunglasses to see if he had really seen what he thought he had seen. The town's folk were gone. Vanished. He dared not walk out to the end of the trail, but he was willing to bet it ended abruptly with humps of sand disturbed by worms. Milly groaned. He heaved the heavy Punisher into motion; it was beyond time to get out of there.

Milly came to as he was slowly enjoying that day's ration of one cigarette. It was awful knowing he had only two left, but a relief to be smoking. He watched as Milly stared around, disorientated. There was something about her blue eyes and the way she wrinkled her nose in confusion that touched a soft spot inside him. He set his cigarette between his fingers then leaned over and kissed her. She scrunched up her face as she usually did when he kissed her while smoking, but smiled at him happily.

"Why are we out here?" She asked as she stood and stretched. Then she picked up her stun gun in a bewildered fashion as if puzzled to find it lying beside her. Here, was the rock he had found. He would not chance the worm infested desert sands without the option of being able to run. He explained what had happened. Milly stared at him with wide eyes.

"What about Miss Meryl!" She gasped.

"I had my hands busy with you!" Wolfwood exclaimed, he felt awful. He had completely forgotten about the short girl.

"Into that sand there?" Milly asked, pointing.

"Yup." He said around his cigarette.

Milly swung her stun gun onto her shoulder and leaped out of the shade and lightly ran down the dune to follow the trail.

"Wait!" He yelled.

She did not heed him.

He caught up to her as she made it to the trail end, his Punisher in rocket launcher mode and his teeth almost chewing through the filter of his cigarette with nerves. He jumped at the slightest shift of sand lifted by the erratic breeze.

"Just gone." She whispered hollowly.

"Sorry." Wolfwood said. It felt a very inadequate word to explain the depths of the apology he wanted to make. He had been so preoccupied with Milly that he had not thought to search for Meryl in the crowds.

Milly took a deep steadying breath.

"Then we must go and find Mister Vash." She said. "After all it is my job to follow him and report back to Bernadelli."

Wolfwood felt his mouth drop open.

"Whaaat? You're thinking about your job?"

"What else am I supposed to do?" Milly asked, her lip quivering. "Sit here and cry? Mister Vash is a very important assignment." She lifted her chin and walked back towards the town.

"This way!" Wolfwood called, and then ran after her when she did not respond. "Stick to the rock ridge! The worms don't often surface in rocky areas."

.

They had made it half way back to town when they spotted an armoured car driving towards them out of the desert.

"Yay! The Feds!" Milly leaped out into their path and waved with both hands.

"Why're you so excited?" Wolfwood grouched. He had dropped his cigarette somewhere. His body craved those final few breaths and it was driving him crazy to know he could have had them. "They can't help us with worms."

He checked that his Punisher was neatly concealed in its wrapping and drew up the smile and casual persona of a priest on hard times. He then saw the black armoured car had small white crosses painted on the doors.

"No!" He breathed as searing hot dread dripped through him. "Milly! Milly, stop waving at them!"

"Why, Mister Priest?" She asked, wide eyed. "It's a church car, see?"

"Milly, listen to me!" He growled, grabbing her arm and hissing ferociously at her. "Do not, on pain of death, mention Vash or Meryl. You met me in a bar and hired me as a bodyguard because you needed help getting home to, where's your home?"

"September?"

"To September."

"Why, Mister Priest..."

"And call me Wolfwood. Don't even mention the priest thing."

"What's wrong Mister – er Wolfwood?" She gasped, suddenly afraid. "Do we take them out?"

"What?" He gasped as she hefted her stun gun. "No! No, they're er a-, ah, warriors! They'll kill you before you can pull the trigger."

"Are they also Priests?"

"No!" He breathed as the car pulled up beside them.

"Would ya lookee here. It's Wolfwood and a woman!"

Wolfwood glowered up at the man peering out at the driver's window at him. He felt his gut twist up in disgust. He knew the man; he had known him when he had been a child a few years younger than himself. They had done a good deal more bionic augmentation on him than he himself had implanted in his own body. He stared up at the scull mask the man wore and had to cough before he found his voice.

"Livio, am I glad to see you!" He panted, as if heat and exhaustion were his only complaints. "The worms just took an entire town."

"We know. You know he has been looking for you?"

"Has he?" Wolfwood wondered who he was, he could think of many men who would be happy to find him, but the way Livio said the word, narrowed it down to two.

"Get in, and bring your woman, we've got a bit of a mess to clean up."

Wolfwood felt physically ill. That usually meant all out massacre. He noticed that there were at least five others in the back of the van. This was going to be tricky. He hoped Milly was as good an actor as he prayed she was.

.

Wolfwood slumped on the rear seat beside Milly, taking care not to fall asleep on her shoulder. The "bit of a mess", to his relief, was general looting of the town. They had taken several trucks and loaded them up with food, ammunition, weapons and all sorts of things a settlement might need. The others in the car had been delegated to drive, but Livio seemed not to trust him and had suggested that they drink and eat, and ride in the truck at their leisure. He sat and chomped the filter of his cigarette. He had stashed as many packs as could fit in his pockets, because where he was going he knew cigarettes were both good trading and luxuries. It was a very long and hot five hour drive, but they eventually pulled up outside a tall rocky outcrop with a single plant orb. Unusually there was no village around it, but that was in many ways, fortunate. Who in their right mind would want to live at the headquarters of the Eye of Michael?

"Oh, it's beautiful."

Wolfwood stared out of the window, his stomach a pit of churning horror. The tall black peaks were crested with elegant buildings, and the nearest was a tall church, though here they worshiped lesser beings than gods. Black clad people walked down the stairs, determined youngsters, their build not equal to their years.

"It's death, Milly." He whispered, trying to relay the sense of dread that he could not begin to explain. "They serve death here."

She opened her mouth then closed it as a frown appeared on her forehead.

"You know these people well, Mister Pr-er Wolfwood." She murmured her eyes troubled. "They wear black like you do."

"Yes." He admitted wretchedly. "I'm one of them. We're assassin's Milly. Please, stick to that story I gave you, or you might end up dead. Please?"

She shifted away from him, that slight gesture eloquent with the horror she felt. Wolfwood felt very dirty all of a sudden. What was he doing? He had turned his back on them; he had run away and stolen this assignment to get out. Yet, here he was, and now he was sure that the man wishing to see him was Chapel. He felt sicker at that idea than he could have believed possible.