A soft hand on her brow woke her from her doze. Her eyes shot open, her heart racing as she tried to place where she was. A pair of concerned green eyes swam into focus before her, and she relaxed infinitesimally as she recognized Vash. She closed them again as the adrenaline rush had made her head swim.

"You shouldn't be out here," he chided. "It's cold still."

"Couldn't get back," she croaked. She cleared her throat and continued. "So tired."

"I'm not surprised. You did some amazing things yesterday. Those would tire anyone out. Why, most people couldn't do what you did at all."

She shrugged, uneasy under his gaze. This was Vash the Stampede, for crying out loud. She knew him, and yet didn't know him at all. It was an uncomfortable feeling. This planet was getting to her, doing things to her mind. Trying to hide her discomfort under a layer of irritation, she sighed and glared at him.

"Not amazing," she managed. "Just did it."

He shook his head slightly, eyes never leaving hers. "I saw what that blast did, out in the desert. There's a big patch of glass out there where it hit." He paused, inviting a comment.

She didn't say anything, willing to let him ramble on. He did.

"That was a lot of energy. I didn't know anyone could deflect something like that. I thought it was just, boom, you know? And dead?"

She stayed silent.

"I wanted to thank you for saving Meryl's life. I appreciate that. I'm sorry that you and she don't seem to have gotten off to a good start. She's really nice when you get to know her, she is."

"She shot me."

"It was an accident. She's very sorry."

"It would be nice if she said that." Idly, she realized that it was odd to conduct an argument lying flat on your back. Made things harder. She tried to sit up but couldn't quite manage on her own. Vash leaned over and lifted her upper body, tucking her against his chest and supporting her with one arm around her.

She couldn't help but be aware of the warmth and closeness of him. Very few men had ever held her close over her life, and this one was Vash, which made the feeling even more weird. Heat seeped into her and her head naturally sagged back against his chest. A long, slow sigh escaped her as she relaxed against him.

Then she stiffened again, as the oddness of the situation and her aversion to close personal contact overwhelmed the pleasure she took. She struggled against him, and he let go.

"What?" he asked, a confused and hurt look in his eyes.

She shook her head, looking for words that wouldn't come out too harshly. "I just don't like to be touched," she finally managed. She ended up sitting hunched over her lap, her neck lolling forward a bit as she rocked with the beat of her heart.

"I'm hungry," she finally managed, looking for anything to say that might break the silence between them.

"Donut?" he asked brightly, painfully eager to please.

"Sure," she said, not so much wanting a pastry as wanting to make him feel better.

He jumped up and ran off, back at her side in less than a moment. He offered one slightly squished donut on an open palm. She took it daintily and devoured it in a bite.

The started look on his face was priceless. She laughed. He looked at the empty spot on his palm then at her, his eyes sad, then he laughed as he met her eyes again.

"You are hungry," he commented, a grin splitting his face.

"Incredibly," she affirmed.

He scampered off and came back quickly, dragging his pack behind. He would take out an item of food, lay it flat on his palm, and goggle at the speed with which she devoured it. She could feel the food as it digested quickly, imagined that she could feel her blood sugar level rising, could feel her body sucking calories and nutrients out of her stomach. After almost ten minutes of devouring food she sat back, replete. Some color had leeched into her cheeks, and at some point she had even managed to sit up straight.

Vash looked at her bemusedly, then into his bag with a lost expression on his face. "There's not much left in here."

"Sorry," she said, flushed.

"Don't be. If I didn't want you to have it, I wouldn't have given it to you," he said, slightly serious.

"But I ate all your food," she protested.

"Then I'll get more. Food is not difficult to replace," he told her, mock sternly.

She sighed, too full to want to argue. "Thank you," she said simply, remembering her manners like she always did: a minute later than she really ought.

"No, thank you," he said, suddenly serious. "You… I can't say I understand much about you, but you saved my wife's life. That means a lot to me."

"It was nothing. Habit. It wasn't anything special." She protested the gratitude, not feeling worthy of it. She hadn't done anything that she didn't normally do. It wasn't like she had saved Meryl because she knew or liked the woman. It was just because she was there, and then danger was coming at her… She wished she could find the words that would put her action in it's proper light, but they escaped her.

"It was very special to me," he said, grasping her chin and forcing her to meet his eyes. She glanced at them, then darted her gaze away, suddenly finding the mole by his eye fascinating. He waited a moment, but she kept her eyes averted. Releasing her, he sighed, then stood.

"You shouldn't act like what you did means nothing."

She looked at her hands and waited until after he had left before she whispered the only wisdom she had at them.

"It did mean nothing. Everything does."