A/N: Hey folks, I hope everyone is staying safe and sane and healthy in continuing crazy times.

I apologize for not having this chapter posted earlier today, but I was really struggling to write this introduction. I had a really long, detailed passage laid out here, but it was getting too unwieldy and I decided it was probably best to just get to the point, so, TL;DR:

I have to abandon this project. It's absolutely gut-wrenching for me to do so, because I've got so much invested in this (and so do so many of you!), and it's been a real labor of love. I'm sorry it's so abrupt, and right after making plans to put out chapters on a regular basis, but there's just no way around it. I will go ahead and put that longer explanation in another A/N at the end of the chapter below, because I feel like you've all been so supportive throughout this whole crazy adventure and you probably deserve to know the whole story.

This has been just an amazing experience and a wild ride, and I'm so grateful for everyone who has come along with me, whether from the very beginning (12 years!) or as a new reader today. I'm glad I can at least wrap up this episode and not leave you on an awful cliffhanger. Thank you thank you thank you again, and I wish you all the best, forever!

Murder Machine, Part 5

Meryl came back to consciousness in the dark, disoriented but breathing freely. There was a hand stroking her hair and when she tried to sit up, that hand settled on her shoulder to steady her.

"Thank goodness, you're awake!"

It took Meryl a moment to recognize the voice, and then to reconcile it with the current situation.

"Milly? What are you doing here?"

"See? She's fine." That was Wolfwood, somewhere off to her left. "Stay down, Broom-head."

"I'm fine, preacher, lay off," sighed Vash. His voice seemed worryingly strained.

"What's wrong?" Meryl demanded.

"You came out unconscious," Wolfwood told her. "He came out not breathing."

"What?"

"I'm fine," Vash insisted, and the petulance in his tone now did make him sound more like himself (or at least, like the Idiot).

"He'll be alright, Ma'am," Milly assured her. Meryl felt long fingers thread through her hair, starting to shake out any sand trapped there. "He should still rest a little longer, though."

"Here," said Wolfwood. "I've only got a couple of these left, I was saving 'em for when you woke up."

Meryl squinted against the sudden flare of a match against the darkness. It cast dim, flickering light in a tiny circle, enough to show her Wolfwood's and Milly's faces but not much more of her surroundings. Vash was still somewhere out of sight, and Meryl glanced around in some confusion.

"Did the lights go out early?" she asked. Wolfwood frowned at her.

"No, they went out ten minutes ago. Big Girl found me just in time, and then we had to sift you two out of the sand in the dark." Wolfwood turned to Milly with a more thoughtful look, asking bemusedly, "How did you find me, honey?"

The match guttered out before the blush could fully bloom on Milly's cheeks, and Wolfwood didn't immediately light another as she began her explanation.

Meryl wasn't quite paying attention. She was still struggling to sort out the timing in her head. If she'd fallen off the catwalk with thirty minutes of power left, it meant she and Vash had been in that damn room for at least half an hour before Milly and Wolfwood had managed to get them out. They couldn't have spent more than ten minutes stumbling around in the dark before getting buried, but that left twenty minutes for them to suffocate to death, no matter how they tried to share oxygen. It didn't make sense.

A comment from Milly derailed this train of thought. "Wait, what did you say?"

Wolfwood lit another match from his limited supply just as Milly repeated, "I put a tracker in your boot."

"You lojacked me?" yelped Meryl. She heard the welcome sound of one of Vash's genuine laughs.

"Well, you're forming this habit of running off," said Milly, casting a mildly annoyed glance into the darkness toward the source of that laugh, as if to imply where Meryl might have picked up this particular habit.

Vash's face finally appeared in the tiny circle of light as he sat up, grinning. Meryl gave him a quick once-over and was concerned to see him looking so pale and gaunt. Then again, so did everyone else, in this light. She'd have to wait for a better look when she could see him more clearly.

"We should probably get out of here," said Vash. He got to his feet (not quite able to stifle a groan), and added, "Oxygen scrubbers will be the next to go. It's all breathable now, but let's not risk it."

Meryl thought a whole ship full of air was plenty to last them, but she'd already nearly suffocated in here once and would be glad never to do so again. She stood up and the tiny flame in Wolfwood's fingers flickered out.

"Alright, this is the last one," he said, striking another match as he and Milly stood, too. "Let's get organized. Broom-head, you're up front, lead the way. Then Short-stuff, and then I'm going to put my hand on your shoulder, honey. Is that okay?"

"Ah—yes, Mr. Priest, of course." Milly sounded surprisingly calm, but Meryl thought she could feel the heat of her blush as Milly's hand settled lightly on her shoulder.

Meryl figured she was too short to hold Vash's shoulder without treading on his heels, so she just took a fistful of fabric at the back of his jacket. He immediately reached back and wrapped his hand around her wrist, pulling her fingers free. She wasn't sure what he wanted her to do instead, but when his grip slid down past her wrist to clasp her hand and give a gentle squeeze, her heart swelled with gratitude.

It was such a welcome, reassuring gesture that Meryl could have wept. She squeezed back, and when the match finally went out she was glad to let Vash lead her, even blindly in the dark.

They all made a strange, shuffling train in Vash's wake, each of them trying not to step on anyone else. After a moment Meryl asked, "Can you even see where you're going?"

Vash let out a low chuckle, and seemed to be rummaging through his pockets with his free hand. After a moment she heard a faint tapping sound, like a fingertip on glass.

"Didn't I tell you?" he asked. "My glasses have a night-vision setting."

Meryl burst out laughing. She couldn't help it. She laughed until she cried, and when Milly asked what was wrong, she didn't have an answer. Vash just squeezed her hand again and she kept walking.

For at least another half hour, Vash led them on a slow path through the ship, warning them of corners and stairs and walkways, guiding them carefully around the wreckage of any fallen creatures they came across.

Milly tripped over Meryl's heel once and frantically (and repeatedly) apologized when it brought the whole party down. At that point they took the chance to sit and rest for awhile, and Meryl was relieved that Vash never once tried to pull his hand from hers.

Eventually Vash brought them to a halt somewhere in the middle of a catwalk and he finally transferred Meryl's grasp to one of the handrails, saying, "This is it. Give me a minute to get the hatch open. And maybe stand back a little, in case any sand has shifted around up there."

Meryl hurriedly backed up into Milly, having had just about enough of sand today. There were a few minutes of metallic scraping noises and quiet sounds of exertion from Vash before a sliver of light appeared overhead. It was painfully bright in contrast to the dark Meryl's eyes had become accustomed to and she had to squint and blink against the light.

After a moment she was horrified to see Vash balanced precariously with one foot on each of the catwalk handrails, still barely able to reach the edges of the opening he was trying to pry apart.

"Christ," hissed Wolfwood, apparently equally horrified, hurrying forward to brace Vash's legs.

"Thanks!" said Vash, grinning down at the other man. "Gimme a boost?" Wolfwood moved to stand at the center of the catwalk and Vash climbed onto his shoulders (which was not much less horrifying, as far as Meryl was concerned). It only took another few seconds to get the aperture fully open and Vash hauled himself up and through and out of sight.

Head and torso reappeared as he leaned back down through the hatch, evidently lying on his belly in the sand above. He pointed and made grabby hands at Meryl.

"Hand her up."

"Wait—what?" Meryl hurriedly backed away when Wolfwood reached for her, but that just meant she bumped into Milly, who picked her up by the waist before she could argue. There was nothing she could do then except reach up to meet Vash, and they clasped forearms. Wolfwood made a stirrup of his hands for Meryl to step in and the two men hoisted her up and out with little effort.

Meryl flopped onto the sand next to Vash, finding herself at the bottom of a familiar, non-sandworm pit. She didn't bother trying to help him lift the others, knowing she'd most likely be more of a hindrance, and she watched Milly emerge next before turning to help pull Wolfwood out after her.

Vash sat up and brushed sand away from the edges of the hatch until he found what seemed to be a control panel. Meryl recognized a hexagonal button she had mistaken for a bolt when she'd entered here, and the hatch clamped shut now at Vash's touch. He stood, brushing sand off his gloves, and gestured at Milly.

"Hey, can I borrow that cannon of yours?"

Milly looked startled, and briefly confused. "You mean my stun-gun?" She pulled it from its sling under her shoulder and handed it across to Vash, who immediately started smashing the butt of the massive weapon into the control panel.

"Mr. Vash!" yelped Milly. "What are you doing?!"

"Locking the door behind us!" chirped Vash, cheerfully. He only stopped his attack on the panel when it was so warped as to be unrecognizable, crushed almost completely flat against the hull of the ship. He handed the stun-gun back to Milly with a grin. She resettled it in its sling, nonplussed.

Vash offered Meryl a hand up and she took it, letting him pull her to her feet. Part of her didn't want to let go again, but there was no need for his guidance in the light of day and she reluctantly released his hand. He led them up the steep slope to the top of the pit and for a moment they all stood at the edge, staring down.

"Should we tell anyone about this place?" Milly asked, hesitantly.

"No," said Vash, definitively. He kicked some sand down into the pit with one foot before turning away. "Let the desert have it. Let it be buried."

"What about these things?" asked Wolfwood, waving a hand at the broken creatures—machines—scattered around them.

"They won't be a problem anymore," Vash said, shaking his head. "There's no one left to protect." Meryl shared a worried glance with Milly, but she doubted Vash would explain more if asked.

"Well, let's get back to the shuttle, then," sighed Meryl. She started trudging tiredly forward, saying, "I don't want to be stuck out here when the suns go—"

Her toe caught on a buried piece of debris and she fell, hard, unable to even get her hands out in front of her before she collapsed in the sand, and suddenly it was all just too much.

Meryl burst into tears. Loud, noisy sobs that came wrenched from deep in her chest and threatened to choke her as she managed to push herself up onto her elbows.

"Ma'am!" gasped Milly. "Are you alright?" Meryl felt hands helping her sit up, but she couldn't even see through the tears, she just cried, and there was nothing else for it. She hurt everywhere, and she was so tired, and it had been just the shittiest day.

In a quick breath between sobs, Meryl managed to hear Wolfwood demand, "What the hell's wrong with her?" Tears suddenly dissolved into rage as she looked up at him in disbelief.

"What's wrong with—what's wrong with me? This is all your fault!" she shrieked. Everything that had gone wrong all day started pouring out of her mouth in an angry diatribe she couldn't hope to control.

"We're only out here because of you!" she shouted. "We had to take a detour to fish your dumb ass out of the sand, and that's when these damned machines showed up!" Meryl waved a hand at the wreckage around them. "Then you told the driver to leave without that family—"

"What? No I didn't!"

"—and I had to go back for them and get chased and shot at by those things, and then you," Meryl turned her ire on Vash, who stared back in bewilderment. "You should have left me behind, and you didn't, and then the girl got taken and you left me behind anyway! And then she came back saying you got eaten by a sandworm, because she thought they were actually real!"

Meryl paused for breath and Vash piped up, helpfully, "But sandworms are real."

"Shut up!" screamed Meryl. "I thought you were dead! I came all the way out here looking for you, just to fall into that deathtrap and get shot at some more! Found him and thought he'd killed you—"

"Wait, what?"

"—found you and you were angry, got knocked off a fucking catwalk and buried, almost suffocated, dragged around in the dark, and on top of everything else, I lost my derringers!"

That last word came out as a scream, cut off in a choked sob, and she burst into tears again. Meryl buried her face in her hands, wailing in abject misery, and could only barely hear Milly's lamenting, "Oh, Ma'am, I'm so sorry..."

After a moment a gentle hand rested on her shoulder, and a quiet voice murmured, "I have them."

Meryl felt the slightest weight in her lap and her sobs stopped abruptly with a hiccupping breath as she opened her eyes. Vash was kneeling next to her, and her four missing derringers rested there against the indigo fabric of her leggings.

She couldn't even look at Vash. She was too shocked even to draw breath. He had found them, had brought them back to her—she didn't know how to thank him, to express how great a gesture this was, what it meant to her. It was just too much, and all she could do was clutch the pistols to her chest and start crying again.

Meryl could tell that the others were talking, but she couldn't really parse who or what or why and she didn't care anymore.

"Ma'am, can you walk?"

"I don't think she can even hear you."

"I'll carry her."

"You most certainly will not! You think I don't see you bleeding through that jacket, Mr. Vash?"

"I can do it, then."

"No. Thank you, Mr. Priest, but Ma'am is my responsibility."

Meryl vaguely registered being lifted effortlessly into someone's arms, but she just clung to her derringers and wept. It was a relief to just give up on being a functional person and let someone else worry about everything for awhile.

It didn't take long for Meryl to cry herself out, which left her with a headache and a stuffy nose and she just curled up more tightly in what she now recognized as Milly's strong embrace.

No one said much on the walk back to the shuttle (or maybe Meryl had just slept through it), but eventually Wolfwood was the one to break the silence.

"Well, damn," he said, surprise obvious in his voice. "I... honestly didn't expect them to wait for us."

Meryl managed to pry her tear-gummed eyes open for a brief moment. The light was waning as the second sun began to slip past the horizon, but she could still make out the shuttle just visible in the distance. Milly abruptly shifted her into one arm and dug around in a pocket with her free hand. Something jingled next to Meryl's ear.

"I took the keys!" said Milly, sounding thoroughly pleased with herself. Wolfwood let out a bark of laughter.

"Nice one, honey."

Some interminable amount of time later, Milly's voice came soft in Meryl's ear:

"We're back at the shuttle, Ma'am."

Meryl looked blearily around again, and when Milly asked, "Do you think you could stand for a bit, make your way to our seats?" Meryl nodded.

Milly set her down gingerly on her feet, and somehow Meryl managed to stay upright. She was even able to stow her found-again derringers without falling over. Once Milly seemed sure Meryl could handle herself, she climbed up the steps to the shuttle. She offered the keys to the driver, who glowered at her and snatched them from her hand without a word, jamming one into the ignition and turning it over so vehemently that Meryl worried he might snap the key in half.

The engine roared to life and Wolfwood hurriedly mounted the steps behind Milly. Meryl followed him, and Vash brought up the rear, putting a hand at the small of her back when she swayed as the shuttle lurched into motion.

Something fell from one of the overhead storage bins, dislodged by the rocking of the shuttle, and Meryl barely managed to duck out of the way in time. It landed in the lap of one of the old ladies in the front row instead, and Kuroneko purred loudly and butted his head against the woman's chin.

"Get this thing off me!" she shrieked.

"Enid, shush," ordered the other woman, plucking the cat from her companion's lap. She handed it off to Meryl, who was too startled to decline the offer, and then she was standing there with Kuroneko sort of bonelessly oozing out of her hands, still purring.

Behind her, Vash let out a soft chuckle. He reached around her—to take the thing, Meryl assumed—but he just collected the ooze into a more manageable ball and arranged Meryl's arms to cradle the cat against her chest.

Kuroneko's low purr thrummed through her ribcage and for once Meryl didn't mind the tiny pinpricks of pain as he kneaded his paws into her arm. She just trudged her way toward the back of the shuttle, annoyed to find that Wolfwood had already taken the seat next to Milly, slumping against her with his head resting on her shoulder.

Milly sat there, frozen, evidently unsure how to handle the situation. Wolfwood let out a sigh as his eyes fell shut, and when he mumbled, "You're comfy," Milly looked up at Meryl with such a blindingly pleased smile that she couldn't help smiling back. She just shook her head and slid into the seat across the aisle.

Vash plopped down next to her, disturbing the cat, who leapt from Meryl's arms to Milly's. She turned to frown at him—the thing had scratched her—but Vash gave a huge, exaggerated yawn and flung his arms around her middle.

"You're comfy, too," he assured her, cuddling in closer to her side.

On a different day, Meryl might have tried to peel Vash's arms away, hissing dire warnings about which bits of him she would remove from the rest of his body if he didn't let go right now goddamn it.

Today she was just too damn tired. She just sighed and tried halfheartedly to shrug him off.

"Come on, Vash, let go."

To her surprise, he did. Vash seemed to recognize that she wasn't up for his usual shenanigans, for which Meryl was incredibly grateful. Though he still crossed his arms with an Idiot pout and complained, "You're no fun."

Meryl just shrugged an apology. She noticed a red smear across her elbow, standing out in sharp contrast to the white of her tunic, and glanced down at Vash's side with a jolt of alarm.

"Oh my god, are you still bleeding?" The dark stain on his jacket had spread, at least twice the size since last she had seen it.

Vash looked down, confused, and then touched her arm in dismay. "Oh no, your sleeve! I'm sorry, I—"

"I don't care about that, Idiot!" snapped Meryl. She reached for the front of his jacket but Vash batted her hands away.

"Hey! Quit trying to feel me up, will ya?" yelped Vash, indignant. Meryl glanced up, scowling—this was serious!—but she was startled to see none of the Idiot in his expression. Vash looked back at her, cool green eyes meeting hers as one corner of his mouth quirked up. "I'll get the wrong idea," he murmured.

Meryl's breath caught for a moment and she felt her eyes go wide at the low, silk-smooth tone of his voice. Her insides went all gooey for an instant, but she managed to quash the feeling and scowled again.

"I'm serious, Vash!"

"I'm fine, now," Vash promised, his voice mercifully back to normal. "Things got pulled a little loose in all the running around, that's all."

"How?" demanded Meryl. "Milly's stitches don't tear easy, I would know."

"Oh, these aren't hers," said Vash, flapping a hand dismissively.

"They aren't—you mean you trusted a steamer surgeon?" asked Meryl, shocked. "They're hacks! No wonder you're falling apart!"

"No, of course not," Vash assured her. "I did it."

Meryl was decidedly not reassured.

"You did it?"

"Why not?" he asked, shrugging. Meryl thought it was meant to sound casual, but she could hear a defensive note there, too. When he added, "I can take care of myself," there was a tired resignation to his words that made Meryl's heart hurt.

After a long moment, she said, "You don't always have to, though. You know that, right?" When Vash looked confused, she told him, "You have help, here, if you need it."

Vash's expression changed to something close to wonder, and Meryl realized that this had never even occurred to him, that he could ask for help. And why would it? For god knows how long, everyone Vash ran into was trying to kill him. Having allies (even those thrust unwillingly upon him) was probably a new experience.

He was still staring at her in that same wonder and he seemed to be trying to find something to say when Kuroneko landed heavily in his lap. The cat started kneading at his legs and Vash squeaked in distress as tiny claws punctured his precious jacket. He yanked the cat free and dumped him in Meryl's arms.

Across the aisle, Milly and Wolfwood were obviously asleep, which apparently meant that Kuroneko needed a new source of attention. She and Vash were some of the only people left awake, so Meryl sighed and settled the cat in her lap, secretly glad of the distraction that had broken the strange tension building between them.

"Well, it's been a long day," said Vash, finally. He yawned broadly, and this time Meryl wasn't sure if it was affected or not. He produced the yellow glasses from somewhere in his jacket and slipped them on, crossing his arms as he settled back into his seat. After a moment he offered her a whispered, "G'night!"

"Goodnight, Vash," Meryl murmured in return. She leaned into the window, absently rubbing Kuroneko's belly, and tried to get some sleep.

What felt like just moments later, something fell heavily against her, startling her awake. Vash was cuddling into her side again and Meryl was close to shoving him away when she realized that this time, he actually was asleep.

The yellow glasses had gone askew where his cheek pressed into her shoulder and she could see Vash's closed eyes behind the round rims. Occasionally his dark eyelashes would flutter minutely as his eyes moved rapidly behind his eyelids.

Meryl remembered how he had let her rest against his side like this the night before, and she decided she could return him the favor.

But god, he was heavy.

After just a few minutes Vash was practically squishing her against the window. Meryl turned to squeeze back into the corner and Kuroneko jumped down from her legs, unwilling to share her lap as Vash fell sideways into it.

The yellow glasses went crooked again where his cheek came to rest against her leg and now the zig-zag frames were digging into her thigh. She put a hand beneath his head and turned his face up toward hers, just long enough to pull the glasses free.

The frames got caught on one of his ears and Meryl froze, but he seemed to sleep through it without noticing. She paused for another moment, glad of the opportunity to see Vash like this, again, when his face was calm and without any pretense of the Idiot. She smiled despite herself and brushed aside a few stray yellow hairs that had lost their usual bristle.

Even this tiny gesture dislodged some sand still trapped in his hair and Meryl was forcibly reminded of how it had gotten there. For a moment she was trapped in a panicked flashback, unable to breathe in the crushing sand and overwhelming darkness, even though there was plenty of light and air available in the shuttle around her now.

No, she had been able to breathe then, sharing with Vash, what little air remained in their lungs. But maybe not sharing equally. Maybe Vash had somehow given her all the oxygen, and essentially died in the process...

Meryl tried to put it out of her mind. She didn't have the mental capacity or emotional wherewithal to revisit that particular nightmare yet.

Vash shifted in her lap, and it was a welcome distraction. He rolled away from her to settle his cheek against her thigh again and Meryl felt him wrap one hand loosely around her ankle, which she found oddly endearing. Like she was some kind of comfort object; a blanket or a stuffed animal he clung to in slumber.

For lack of a better place to keep them, Meryl hooked Vash's yellow glasses over her ears and let them sit in the hair above her forehead. She lay her hand on his shoulder and leaned back into the corner.

Fewer than ten minutes passed before someone tripped over Vash's long legs, which were splayed out across the aisle. The man swore under his breath and whispered a quiet apology as he stepped more carefully over the obstacle Vash posed.

Vash groaned sleepily and rolled over in Meryl's lap. She gave a start as his face burrowed under the flared hem of her tunic.

"Not my fault," he said, his voice muffled through fabric as his cheek nuzzled farther and farther up her thigh. "Doing it in my sleep."

"Hey, come on," said Meryl, sighing. "I thought we weren't doing this tonight." He just nestled even closer until his long nose was digging into her hip and she was unwilling to make any real effort to push him away, in case he managed to accidentally face-plant somewhere even more inappropriate as a result.

On a different day...

No. Today.

Meryl found the shell of Vash's ear through the fabric of her tunic, seizing it between pinched fingers and twisting sharply.

"Ow!" squeaked Vash, all limbs flailing as he searched blindly for her arm with his free hand, trying desperately to tap out on her elbow. "Owowow!"

Meryl released him and he rolled onto his back again, pouting up at her as he emerged from under the tunic. She flattened it over her thighs again and frowned down at him, too tired even for her usual scowl.

Vash's pout turned into an Idiot grin as he reached up to pluck his glasses from where they rested in her hair. He slipped them down into place on her nose and Meryl's vision went yellow in the last dying glow of the setting suns.

She gave him a withering look, but Vash just laughed quietly and sat up again, not bothering to collect his glasses as he settled into the seat next to her. Meryl quickly pulled them off and thrust them into his chest. He grinned and slipped them on again, leaning back to rest his head on the top of the seat with another whispered, "G'night."

Meryl just sighed and turned to lean into the window again, hoping she might finally get some rest. The shuttle never really went quiet, and it constantly bumped over the sand, rattling the glass under her cheek, but she could hear Vash's even breaths keep a familiar, eight-count time, helping lull her to sleep. The window was cold against her skin but her eyelids felt like lead, and exhaustion finally came to drag her down into welcome unconsciousness.

"Hey, Broom-head, you still awake?"

Meryl had been one breath from slumber and she almost groaned in displeasure at this new interruption from Wolfwood, whispered though it was. She assumed everyone else would have passed out by now and was annoyed that the preacher had woken her in trying to wake Vash.

"You're really sticking with Broom-head?" Vash whispered back. Meryl hadn't expected him to still be awake, either, and she did her very best to feign sleep and hope the real thing would kick in soon enough to save her from this unintentional eavesdropping.

"Fitting, though, isn't it?" asked Wolfwood.

Vash gave an incensed huff.

After a moment Wolfwood went on, murmuring, "You know, you're not as dumb as you look."

"Oh?"

"You surround yourself with good people. The girls?"

"They follow me," Vash corrected him, but Wolfwood just gave a soft snort of laughter.

"Right. No way you can shake them, huh?"

Vash sighed. "I suppose you're right," he allowed.

"Short-stuff over there is fierce," Wolfwood noted, and Meryl felt her face burn. She wondered again if he was going to tell Vash about their earlier confrontation in the ship. "You should have seen her," he began, but Vash cut him off with a quickly stifled laugh.

"Oh, I've seen her," he assured the other man.

For a long while Wolfwood said nothing, and Meryl hoped that was the end of it, but eventually he spoke again.

"You're a good match." Then he gave a quiet huff of laughter. "I think she's more than a match for you, even, your woman."

This time it was a miracle Meryl didn't just jump right out of her skin. She forced her breathing to remain even despite the sudden racing of her heart, and the traditional, "His what?" sat on the tip of her tongue and yet iles away from leaving her lips.

"Well, she's..." Vash paused, seemingly searching for the right words. Meryl felt his weight shifting on the seat and she was certain he had turned to look down at her, though she was probably just imagining the laser sight boring through her temple. Meryl kept her eyes closed and stayed very still, trying to keep her breathing steady enough to convince Vash she was actually asleep. "She's certainly something," he murmured finally, settling back into the seat again. "But not mine," he added.

Wolfwood just gave a cryptic grunt, which apparently signaled the end of the conversation.

Things finally fell quiet again and Meryl was aching for sleep when a warm weight suddenly settled over her legs and she gave a start. She tried to turn the movement into a casual readjustment in her seat, something done in her sleep, and she faked a sleepy, "Hmm," before settling to stillness again, hoping she hadn't given herself away.

After another few moments that same, slight weight shifted over her, and Meryl realized Vash had draped his jacket across her lap. Now he drew it up higher over her body and gently tucked the fabric around her sides. It enveloped her in the borrowed warmth from his body and Meryl could just catch that familiar scent of Vash on the collar, gunpowder and grease and something strange and sweet and soothing, just a few iches away from her nose. When she took a deep breath to fill her lungs with it, the contented, "Hmm," that came on her exhale was entirely unfeigned.

A/N: April Fool's! You're stuck with me, folks. When I decided to update quarterly I did not consider that it would mean posting on April 1st, and then it was just too good to pass up (sorry). Let me assure you again, I'm not giving up on this story for any reason short of cataclysmic apocalypse. And even then the internet will probably endure and I'll just have to fistfight other survivors for food and spare laptop batteries.

I also have to say, holy cats! You wonderful people have been super generous with my Buy Me a Coffee page (/SWPPlus), I can hardly believe it. Thank you so much for the kind messages too, they are greatly appreciated :)

See you in July for the next chapter!