SEVEN: real cowboys

Milly's duck sat on the counter next to her. Already her head was on the counter as she mumbled softly, chewing at a mouthful of her own hair. Meryl would have laughed if it hadn't looked so pathetic. She knew how many stares Milly had received since coming in. Meryl had been right; it was pretty amusing to see Milly and her plush ducky. Despite how pathetic the trio may appear, she was happy to have this man next to her. It brought peace to her heart to know that he was here.

She didn't feel much like laughing, anyway. She was busy staring down at the half-full glass in her hand, thinking back to how he had coaxed her into a drink.

Ah, come on, Meryl. Don't be a sourpuss. What could happen?

A sourpuss? Was that what he thought of her? Maybe that was what he saw in her whenever he was looking to have a little fun. Maybe that was what Milly saw in her. Well, not tonight. She had decided that she was going to have every bit as much fun as her companions. And so she had taken three drinks.

Way to go, Meryl. You idiot.

She groaned a little and pushed the glass away. She was going to regret this in the morning. Meanwhile, Vash downed one more glass like a pro. He plucked a few beer nuts from a nearby bowl and popped them into his mouth.

The best part of the whole thing, as far as Meryl was concerned, had been her toast for the evening. To finding old friends. Milly had glowed at that prospect and had almost violently tapped her glass to Meryl's. It was amazing that both glasses were still somehow intact. Vash had added his own bit of wisdom to her toast. "To new promises," she whispered, recalling his simple words. He glanced to her questioningly, but she didn't feel the need to elaborate. She simply smiled and grabbed a beer nut, looking away. All the while, she wondered exactly what new promises he had spoken of.

A high-pitched, slurred voice broke the muffled din of the saloon: "You see, Mr. Ducky…the world is…better place…Vash the Stampede… Would you…like to play…his kitty?" Everyone in the room gave the odd, drunken girl another stare. Meryl rolled her eyes, stifling a laugh with the back of her hand. She had lost count of Milly's intake, but it had been approaching ten glasses.

She had been ready to put an end to her friend's drinking when Milly fell asleep, right in the middle of an unintelligible song that lasted a grand total of five seconds. They let the big girl sleep, and Meryl and Vash continued to drink. While he could drink with the best of them when he felt like it, Meryl had only sipped on a few drinks, despite the fact that she had known it would be her downfall in the morning.

After a time, as Vash twirled last few chunks of melting ice in the bottom of his empty glass, he sighed and revealed a little of what had been troubling him since that morning. "I didn't realize the rumor would spread so quickly," he admitted. "I mean, I only saw one other person in the desert for four thousand iles. And that was nearly the span of a year. How one man could have possibly told anyone where I was headed is beyond me. I don't think I even told him that."

Meryl glanced over to him. Her smile withered a little, her heart aching a little for him. "People all need something to talk about. You were the hot topic for nearly a quarter of a century, Vash. It's no wonder why it hasn't changed over the past year." Slowly, she fingered the condensation on her empty glass, gazing up to him.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. It's just so damn hard sometimes."

He looked to the bottle and shook his head. Suddenly, he wasn't very thirsty anymore. He picked at a nook in the bar counter. The hot topic, he thought. He'd always hated the nickname dubbed to him—Vash the Stampede—but at the same time it had helped him to deliver safe conclusions to the people he touched.

He sighed. Even Knives had been touched, in the end. He told me that himself, right before I turned and walked away.

Meryl watched him quietly and took his hand in hers. He squeezed it and looked down at her. She could see his composure deteriorating before her eyes, and she felt powerless to help.

"You can tell me what's troubling you," she said. "I'm your friend. I'll be here to help you through thick or thin, if you'd let me."

He sighed, and then smiled. He was about to tell her that he would be okay when a far away sound came to his ear. It was a sound that was familiar despite its impossibility. He only knew he had heard it before. He quickly searched his memory for the origin of his recognition, and the realization that came to him made him stiffen.

SEEDS.

He relaxed and drew a deep breath. He knew Meryl couldn't hear the sound. No one here could. It was too distant, though he could hear it as if it were right here beside them. All that he knew was that if he heard what he was certain he heard, no good could ever come of it.

He pulled out a handful of coins and pressed them into Meryl's hand. "Here, get a room for three. I've got something I wanna check out."

Meryl blinked and nodded. She watched him leave, questions in her eyes, but she didn't follow. He had told her to ask for a room for three. That meant he was coming back. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply.

Our lives were greatly improved when that walking disaster finally faded away.

Was that what she had written in her diary?

She wondered just what the hell she'd been thinking.

Next to her, Milly stirred. "I don't feel like going' to the circus today, Mommy." Somehow, she didn't wake.

Meryl groaned, and rested her head in her hands.

----------

Faye stared down at the town below as she flew the Redtail overhead. It was like something out of those old westerns Jet watched sometimes. Those are real cowboys, he insisted. John Wayne. Clint Eastwood. Jimmy Stewart. Whoever the hell they were. If a place like this was supposed to be the environment of real cowboys, Faye didn't want anything to do with them. They sure had pretty piss-poor living conditions. Not that it was so much better off on the Bebop, but at least a ship could go places that were better off.

She brought her ship around and picked a spot in the desert outside of town. Fearing that someone might take an interest in her private ship, she landed behind just beyond a groove where her ship was well-hidden from eyes that wandered from the town out into the expansive desert.

She cursed as she hopped down and sent sand shooting out in all direction. She certainly wasn't dressed very well for such horrible conditions. Sand could get anywhere it damn well pleased, and it seemed especially attracted to her shorts. She itched something terrible in places she couldn't scratch in public.

Damnit, if only I were a man, she thought, and made her way toward the town.

She soon found herself in the outskirts of town, shaking her head in disgust. She watched for signs of life, and decided that any real life couldn't possibly be made out here. "Well isn't this town a total piece of sh…" She was interrupted by sounds coming from a nearby building. She immediately determined that she had discovered a local bar. She smirked. "I guess in these here parts it'd be called a saloon," she said sarcastically, and started toward it.

She frowned as she spotted a man in the shadows, just outside the saloon. He stood there, long blond hair and a stubbled chin, draped in a long, brown poncho. A poncho, for Christ's sake. I feel like I've gone through a fucking time warp.

In her most sensual voice, and spoke to him. "Excuse me, but could you tell me where I could find some food and water? My partners and I crashed our ship out in the desert and we desperately need help." She continued to speak as she walked right up to him, hips swaying from side to side, and stood in a vulnerable position, making sure her skin showed in all the right places. "We…I would sure appreciate it if you lent us a hand."

As she had anticipated, he stared at her with his mouth opened. He closed his eyes. She smirked as she visualized him picked his jaw up off the dusty street.

"If you don't mind me asking," he started after a moment, his voice very low, very deep. He opened his eyes and risked another glance at the young woman, and was somehow able to keep from drooling all over himself. She arched her brow, finding the whole situation quite humorous. "What kind of ship do you and your partners have? I mean, you really don't look like you're from around here."

Faye blinked. The question surprised her. "Well, we're not. It's a spaceship, actually. What else could it be?" She smiled and moved a little closer to her, then feigned a yawn and stretched as tall as she could, her arms high over her head, giving him a deep view of wholesome cleavage. "My goodness, I'm so tired… I could really use a drink, ya know?" She sighed softly and dropped her arms, resting one on the swell of her hip, which arched toward that side. She slowly lay the other hand against his chest, looking him straight in the eye and smiling seductively. "Is there anyplace around here where a girl can get a drink? I'd be very, very grateful…if you showed me around."

He gazed at her, his breath quickened as he stared at her. He let her rest her hand against his chest and play her fingers against the brown poncho.

"A…d…drink?" he stammered. "Uh…I don't…well…" He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. She thought he might be gathering his bearings, a good sign that he might have fallen, hook, line, and sinker. Faye smirked.

But then he opened his eyes and fixed her with a piercing stare. Faye actually flinched. What the hell? Those eyes, those intense green eyes that had only a moment before been so helplessly entrapped by every sultry curve, every seductive word, held her in an all-encompassing, iron glare.

No longer feeling very sexy, having lost her strongest advantage in this strange world, Faye slunk away from him.

"Listen lady, I don't now where you came from, but there hasn't been a flyable spaceship on this planet since I got here, and that was a hell of a long time ago."

Faye paled at his words. "No ship?"

Oh shit.

She made a mental note to kill Jet when she got back.

----------

It had taken nearly fifteen minutes to get Milly into bed, and already Meryl wanted to join her in her blissful sleep. It had been a troublesome chore, moving a drunk girl nearly twice her size, but she had managed, in between fits of drunken sleep, and the one time she had actually awakened, she had attempted to drag Meryl right back to the bar. But Meryl was determined and eventually she had gotten her partner up the stairs and into their room. After helping Milly into her nightgown, the girl had instantly collapsed into the big bed and sprawled out across the entire mattress.

Meryl had to smile, and then wiped the sweat from her brow. It was so god awful hot in this place. Well, it was probably the work, or maybe even the three drinks she had forced down her throat. A sourpuss. Hell yeah, and now I know why. She rubbed her temple, trying to soothe the beginnings of a headache that now started to pulse through her spine. She wouldn't be drinking again for quite some time.

She would have changed and joined Milly in bed, but there wasn't a place for her and now that Milly was comfortable—so comfortable that she was sawing logs like never before—Meryl would never be able to move her.

She looked about. The room was small for three people, but it would do. There was a chair in the corner that Vash could take. If she couldn't get into the bed with Milly she'd just find herself on the floor by the radiator. She'd slept on the hard floor before, and it should be warm enough there.

She brushed the sweaty strands of hair from Milly's eyes and gave the big girl a kiss on the forehead. Milly loved to be tucked in, and Meryl had gotten used to this sort of thing. It actually soothed her thoughts and her headache faded, if only for a short time.

She turned and headed for the door. She opened it, checking to see that the key was still in her pocket. It was.

Just as she was about to leave, she heard Milly stir from the bed. "Meryl?"

She waited in the doorway. "What is it Milly?"

The big girl's voice came in the form of a sigh, so soft it was barely audible. "Mr. Vash won't leave us anymore, will he? You won't let him leave?"

"I don't know, Milly," she replied, not even looking back. "I really don't. I hope he'll stay. I want him to, but we can't force him to."

Milly mumbled something else, but it was entirely incoherent.

Meryl sighed. "Good night."

And then she left.

----------

A soft ringing sound interrupted the brutal silence between the two, and the girl started to turn from him. She searched her pockets for something, looking somehow surprised, and pulled a little black box from her shorts. Vash watched, his face set in his most serious, stern expression.

She glanced at him, almost apologetically. "One moment, hon," she said sweetly. She flipped open the devise and pressed it to her ear. "What?"

Lost technology, he realized. She had dismissed him sweetly—the sort of fake, honey-sweet tone when in truth the annoyance and sarcasm is as thick as the sweltering heat of desert afternoon during the summer.

This was a little awkward. Hell, it was awkward to the extreme. This woman was obviously not dressed for the desert. She'd never fit in here. She wasn't from this place, like the people whose ancestors had made their way across space 132 years ago. There was no doubt she was human, probably even from that same place from where Project SEEDS had originated. Still, that didn't change the fact that he was concerned, both for the people who already lived here and the group this woman was affiliated to.

Who was this mysterious woman, scantily clad in yellow? Where had she come from? Most importantly, why was she here?

He found himself questioning if her ship had truly crashed.

The young woman was focused on whatever was being said over the phone. Whatever was being said had her excited.

"Great!" she exclaimed finally. She shot him another fake, honey-sweet smile and lowered her voice. "Where is this seed so we can get the hell off this rock?"

He heard the question despite her low voice.

SEED.

His eyes focused on her, though he didn't think she noticed.

She was too busy listening to the phone with a huge, shit-eating grin. "Yes, Ed did good! I'll get some food and come right back, all right?" She paused, and laughed. "Okay. See you soon." She closed the phone and returned her gaze to him. He returned his gaze to her chest, trying to mask his concern. This way, maybe he could at least play the part of the Humanoid Typhoon and hide his true concerns. "Now where were we?" she asked.

Vash crossed his arms, gazing at her. "You were about to tell me just exactly who you are and how you got here," he started. A huge grin exploded across his face and the childish womanizer in him popped free. "Then I was gonna buy you a drink, remember?"

In that moment, he sensed someone in the doorway behind him. "Vash?" When he glanced back, there was no one there. He could hear the delicate sound of boots padding softly away. Damnit, that was Meryl. I hope she doesn't have the wrong idea about all this. He shook his thoughts away and went back to staring at the woman before him.

She let the sly smile slide across her lips as she nodded. "Right. I'm Faye." She paused, as if deciding what she should tell him about her being here. "I'm in town for groceries. Know of any place still open?"

Ah, introductions! Vash stood tall and proud, his chin high. "My name is Valentinez Alkalinella Xifax Sicidabohertz Gombigobilla Blue Stradivari Talentrent Pierre Andri Charton-Haymoss Ivanovici Baldeus George Doitzel Kaiser the Third!" he announced. The look of shock that crossed her face was hilarious, but Vash could understand her confusion. "I'll be your chaperone this evening, Madame!"

Deep inside, frustrations were mounting for the Humanoid Typhoon. Every time something of great importance came up, Vash refused to allow himself to show anything of his true nature. If the world was on its last legs, he would be there, but he couldn't let the rest of the world know the truth of it. Narrowing his eyes, Vash determined that he couldn't let this woman out of his sight.

He grabbed Faye's arm and started to drag her down the street, intent on leading her to the nearest general store. He showed her nothing of his serious side, acting like a playful puppy whose only interest was the girl next to him. He refused to lend her any cause for suspicion other than the conclusion Meryl had drawn upon their first meeting: that he was a bona fide idiot.

"I'm sure the general store's open until dark. Let's go see what they have." He paused briefly, and glanced over to her. He could see she was struggling to keep up, using her free hand to brush her hair from her eyes. "You don't have any money, do you?"

Faye blushed. "Well, no. We have wulongs, but I'm guessing you don't deal with that kind of currency." His black stare was more than enough to confirm her suspicion. She straightened and offered a bright smile. She turned shoulder toward him, her left breast coming dangerously close to spilling free of her skimpy, yellow jacket. "But I'm sure we can work somethin' out."

Vash swallowed. "Yeah, I think I have some cash on me."

----------

Adjusting her jacket so it more properly covered her bosom, Faye made her way slowly through the aisles of the general store, grabbing what looked good and easy to make. Mostly canned goods. Soups and vegetables. There were some pastas and breads that caught her eye. Even some fresh fruits and vegetables. How they grew such things in a place like this was beyond her, but it was here and it looked good.

She considered the girl she had seen in the doorway of the saloon, where she had run into this nutcase. She had called him Vash, hadn't she? Oh well. She hadn't been around long enough for introductions, so it really didn't matter. All she knew was that she could leech off him for food. That was really all that was important, right?

What an idiot. What had been the deal with the huge name he'd felt obliged to share? Damnit, he was as annoying as…as annoying as Spike! So annoying she thought she might actually strangle him. Hell, she barely knew the guy! She wondered what dumb bimbo, if any, would be unlucky enough to get caught up in any type of a relationship with him. Why do I always get stuck in these situations? Damnit, I'm gonna to kill you, Jet.

At the front of the store, she heard his voice.

"Excuse me, sir? How much for–"

He was interrupted by the clerk, who turned to see him. "Uh…uh…uh…you're…"

"What? Come on, man, I just want a bar of chocolate."

"Take it! Take it and go, please!"

"Just hold your horses, will you?"

"But you're V…Vash the Stampede!"

"Oh, do you really have to shout? It'll just be a minute. My friend is over there shopping, and then we'll be on our way."

Faye watched the conversation from a distance, no doubt very curious. Why was the clerk so scared of this man? She'd seen nothing in him other than the complete idiot that he seemed to be. She took a deep breath and let her eyes follow the room. Something about this man seemed so…well…out of the ordinary.

She let her eyes go to a wanted poster on the wall she had noticed when she came in. Before, she really hadn't paid much attention to it, but now she did. She felt a shiver trickle up her spine when she read the poster. Wanted, Dead or Alive. Vash the Stampede. $$60,000,000,000 Reward. Slowly, her eyes went to the man at the counter. He was alone. Apparently, the clerk had fled.

It's him. She smirked. So there was hope for this shithole of a town, after all. Well I'll be damned. Wait till Jet hear about this one. We may not be taking off so soon after all. She could already hear the conversation back on the ship. Sixty billion? What the hell's a double-dollar? Who cares. They're sixty billion of them.

She bent down and picked one more item from the shelf and headed to the front. "Sorry, you know how us girls are. We just love to shop." She grinned up at him and set her basket on the counter. Her eyes darted past him to the sign on the wall. Yep. Definitely worth looking into.

Vash watched her eyes carefully, and then grinned back at her.

"So, where'd the clerk go?"

He shrugged. "Don't know," he replied. "But I seem to have that affect on people." He glanced at her groceries and determined what he considered a reasonable amount, pulling several wadded bills from his pocket. "Come on, he'll find it."

As they turned to leave, he reached out and grabbed for the poster, tearing it from the wall. He grinned over at her.

"Some people sure do have a lousy taste in art, don't ya think?"

She smirked as he tore the poster from the wall. One more piece of evidence that this was her bounty head. He doesn't look quite right. He doesn't act like a ferocious outlaw, either. But he looks close enough. Why else would he destroy the poster? That should be enough to turn him in for the bounty. Maybe Jet'll get off my ass for awhile.

"What can you expect in a place this small, right?"

He looked at her. "Right."