Blue: ::Peeks out from behind her door:: Heh… Hi I know I haven't up dated in a while. I'm sorry… please don't hurt me! ::shields her face::

Ivey: Hey moron not enough people read this story to form a mob if you don't update in forever.

Blue: Oh… ::not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing:: Anyway I have been such a bad person lately! I haven't updated my Fruits Basket fic in a while either. With that in mind I'll go ahead and get to the reviews so I can work on it. hope-is-4ever- I hope not either (of course I know if it will or not, but never mind about that). I hope you enjoy this chapter! Snwbnny-Of course there will be some fluffiness! I'm a hopeless romantic.

Ivey: You're just hopeless… Aine of Knockaine-Of course it was excellent! I wrote it! This one is even better!

Blue: ::sarcastic:: Well at least you're modest… AnimeFreaks13-I know you wanted me to update my Furuba story first, but Ivey isn't giving me any inspiration for the chapter.

Ivey: I'm working on it! sephirothleo1-I wouldn't update, but then Blue would cut me off from sno-caps, which would suck. Inkydoo- Yeah Gram's pretty awesome. I based his appearance off of Irvine Kinneas from FF VIII. That guy is hot… and we still need to finish playing that game. His personality is based on my brother Evan, which Blue is responsible for. ::glare::

Blue: Ivey and Evan don't get along… Divinya9- I'm glad you like it! Jagaimo-Writer- I was hoping the journal thing would be well liked! To be honest I hadn't really given much thought to a Knives/Millie romance in this story till you mentioned it. I'm taking it into consideration and it's all thanks to you!

Ivey: Blue doesn't own Trigun. She used to own a personal CD player, but she broke mine so I've claimed it.

Blue: I said I was sorry! This chapter is dedicated to Reb aka AnimeFreaks13 who beta read this chapter when she really would have rather been watching Underworld. You rock!

Might As Well Be Strangers

By: Blue

Chapter Five: The Lure of the Unknown and Pancakes

Letting the scalding hot water pelt her face, Meryl closed her eyes and inhaled the steam. She had forgotten how sweaty and grimy riding a bus overnight made her feel. After storming out of the restaurant she found a cheap hotel and booked a room. The room was furnished with a small desk and chair and an old tarnished brass twin bed with a lumpy mattress by the window. It was rather shabby but it had running water and clean sheets and that was good enough for her. After putting her bag on the bed, she immediately went into the tiny bathroom and jumped in the shower.

Finally feeling clean again she turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around herself. Enjoying the feeling of the slightly cool air on her damp skin she dug through her bag in search of her little plastic comb. Standing before the cracked mirror in the bathroom she attacked the numerous tangles. Over the last year she'd neglected her hair, only remembering to get it trimmed when her bangs obscured her vision. The regular abuse with the comb and the lack of conditioner had turned her once meticulously neat, shiny raven tresses into a mess of dull, split end locks.

Pausing, Meryl looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her face had matured a bit, but was still free of wrinkles; she was only twenty-five after all. Her eyes though… the purple-gray orbs that stared back at her reminded her of her mother when she was still alive. Just like her mothers had, Meryl's own eyes looked tired… and empty. Frowning she went back into her room and put away her comb.

The morning suns peeked through many windows, gently waking the inhabitants of the dusty planet of Gunsmoke. On a poorly maintained bus several hours outside of December a tall, blonde haired man squinted his eyes in protest and stretched his back in an attempt to alleviate the stiffness acquired from sleeping sitting up for several hours. With a yawn he rested his chin in his hand and gazed out at the sandy landscape.

In a little backwater town, so to speak a self-possessed man watched the suns rise from a rickety old porch enjoying the feel of the breeze tickling at his face. Within the house, to which the rickety old porch belonged, a young woman lay in her bed drifting between wakefulness and light slumber. The warm sunlight inched its way across her pillow and her sky blue eyes groggily opened. With a sigh she burrowed under her cozy patchwork quilt and tried not to think of how alone she was now that her best friend was gone.

Catching the wake of the young woman's dreariness the man's eyes flickered to the screen door. After a moment of consideration he sent a flash of images into her psyche. Inside the brown haired girl smiled and pushing the covers back got out of bed to make a pot of coffee. 'I'm not so alone. Mr. Knives is here…'

Within the December City limits a petite woman had been up even before the suns decided to make an appearance. After several hours of fitful sleep she'd given up on getting a good night's rest and decided to get ready for her important meeting. She deftly buttoned up her white collared shirt, while sticking her stocking feet into a pair of black high-heeled shoes. With that done she tucked her shirt into her pinstriped skirt, put on her gold earrings (a gift from her elder brother on her sixteenth birthday and the only jewelry she owned) and appraised as much of her appearance as she could in the bathroom mirror.

Instead of the usual quick glance she took a moment to really look at herself. To be honest the only thing that'd really changed much about her since her youth was her choice of clothing. Were she to put on a jumper and a pair of Mary Janes she'd look like she was fourteen again. Even her short, boyish hair and tiny figure were the same. It wasn't hard to see the freckled young teen that'd tag along after her brother to the saloon where he worked evenings as a bus boy and sit in the back finishing her homework. The slightly shorter mirror image of her twenty-two year old sibling Jonathan-Johnny for sort.

Johnny and Merry… their parents had died when Jonathan Stryfe was only eighteen. He was hardly more than a child himself, but nevertheless he took it upon himself to raise his ten year old baby sister. Giving up his dream of being a plant engineer he took whatever job he could get to keep a roof over their heads, food in their stomachs, and clothes on their backs. They took care of each other and despite the lack of luxury in their lives they were happy. Eventually, though, they'd had a falling out. Things were said… and Meryl packed her things and left when she was eighteen. While she had written him on occasion they hadn't seen each other since. 'I should go see Johnny…' Taking a deep breath she smoothed her blouse, grabbed her purse and room key and was out to get her job back.

Vash was anxious… and bored. The bus was still over two hours away from reaching December and he'd tried everything to make the time pass more quickly. He'd tried to engage in a conversation with the man sitting across the aisle from him, but was ignored. Then he tried listening to his walkman, however, he'd neglected to check the life of the batteries recently and hadn't brought any extras with him and after fifteen minutes of listening pleasure it died on him. Next he used his index finger to draw rudimentary pictures on the dirty window (for someone of such superior intelligence he couldn't draw to save his life, but in his defense he didn't have much to work with.) Once he ran out of space on the window he was at loss as to what to do. Actually there was something he could do, but he really shouldn't. He really, really shouldn't…

A minute and a half later he gave into temptation and snatched Meryl's journal from its spot in his bag. Glancing around as if he was a little kid sneaking a cookie from the kitchen before dinner he unclasped the book and flipped it open once again.

'The most unexpected thing happened today on my birthday of all days! Millie and I have been assigned to the Stampede Case once again! It'll be nice to see Vash again, though I'm sure he won't be happy about having us on his trail again, but it's not as if we like being his babysitters either. Then again sitting at a desk day after day has gotten old. I should probably send Johnny a letter so he knows I'll be gone for a while.'

Vash racked his brain trying to figure out who "Johnny" was, but couldn't recall Meryl mentioning anyone by that name. He inwardly shrugged and flipped ahead. 'Oh well…She never talked about her personal life much.'

'I swear I'm never taking another sand-steamer as long as I live! Twice now we've ridden a sand-steamer and both times it was highjacked! On the bright side we caught up with Vash in New Oregon who was looking a bit worse for wear, but fine nonetheless. He even seemed somewhat glad to see us. It really is great to see him again.'

'I wonder if she'll be glad to see me this time…' Vash thought and then squinted to read the next part which was written in jerky looking cursive that could only be described as angry writing.

'Of course that jerk gave us the slip the first chance he got! He left us a note! (The note in question was paperclipped to the other side of the page). And just our luck it was during a real typhoon! We almost got blown away looking for him! But when we found him there was an incident. People died and Vash blamed himself. I wanted to say something… anything to him, but I couldn't. Last night I heard Vash and Mr. Wolfwood talking about it and then they said something about somewhere Vash still has to go. Someone he has to face. What were they talking about? I probably shouldn't ask it's none of my business.'

It was strange for Vash to be reading Meryl's journal. While most of it was just a basic account of events she'd put her musings and worries down as well. They were her private thoughts. Suddenly he felt very guilty about what he was doing. If the short girl new that he'd read her journal she might get violent. She wasn't called derringer Meryl for nothing.

Meryl walked stiffly out of the Bernardelli Insurance office looking angry and dejected. Her meeting with the chief could be described in one word- disastrous. The receptionist at the front desk, a plump gossipy middle-aged woman by the name of Ms. Wheaton, gaped when she purposely entered the front door and requested a meeting with the head of the department. After an hour of sitting tensely in the reception room she was shown to the chief's office.

"Well look what the cat brought in… Miss Meryl Stryfe herself! What can I do for you?" he asked with mirth. When she requested getting her job as a claims agent back he laughed in her face. Five minutes later she was walking out, willing herself to ignore the whispers of her former coworkers. With a sigh she sat on the concrete steps outside the office building and put her head in her hands. A clicking noise caught her attention and she looked up. 'Oh great…' she thought sarcastically. 'Just when I thought my day couldn't get any worse.'

"I'm guessing it didn't go well."

"You could say that. What do you want?" she inquired tersely as he lit his cigarette.

"To take you to breakfast," Gram answered after exhaling a cloud of smoke into the already polluted air of downtown December.

"Oh yes cause our last meal together went so well."

"Think of it as an apology. It wasn't my intention to make you so twitchy."
"I didn't get twitchy!" she protested.

"Seems I've done it again. I guess I'll have to do better than just plain toast. Come on then I heard about this place that serves great pancakes," he told her as he flicked the ashes off the end of his cigarette and walked down the street. Meryl stared after him for a moment incredulously and then, with an irritated sigh, she picked herself up and hurried to catch up with him. Had she known who would be arriving at the Bernardelli Insurance Society a mere nine and a half minutes later she might not have given in to the thought of blueberry pancakes so easily.

Blue: Thank you everyone for your reviews for the reviews. Don't forget to review this chapter!

Ivey: If you don't review then I don't have to write this crap anymore

Blue: You know you like it!

Ivey: Whatever…