No!

Meryl climbed down the ladder again as far as she could, hunkering low with her knees bent up almost to her chest. Cold water sprayed up over her from where it hit the man in red, forcing his chest into the side of the access shaft. Meryl clung to a rung above her head with her left hand and reached down with the other.

"Give me your hand!" she shouted over the sound of the water. She could see him glance up at her again and she was surprised to see no fear in his eyes, only determination.

His teeth were gritted tightly together and with a monumental effort he pulled himself up, the biceps of his skinny arms straining against the sleeves of the red jacket. One hand shot up and closed around the next rung. Another few iches and he'd be within her reach.

"Come on!" Meryl called desperately, wishing she knew his name. "Come on, you Idiot!" didn't inspire quite as much confidence as she would have wanted. "Just a little farther!" She reached her own hand as far as she could, imagining the joints in her wrist, elbow, shoulder stretching just a little more, enough to make her arm just a little bit longer. Come on! She willed her fingers to reach out farther, farther...

Grunting in his effort, the man in red hauled himself up again, slowly, fighting the steady pull of the water. Sharp green eyes met Meryl's and one hand reached up toward her, shaking, unsteady. Her fingers clasped at his, but the wet leather of his glove was slick against her skin and she couldn't keep hold of him.

No, damn it!

Meryl let her right foot slide off the ladder rung she stood on, bracing it against the wall below her and giving her just a little more reach as she turned her body out toward him. Her heart swelled as she caught his hand and managed to get a firm grip.

"Hold on," she called. "I've got you..."

A sudden surge in the water's flow pulled at the man in red and yanked him back down forcefully. Meryl's left hand was wrenched unexpectedly loose from the rung she held. Terrified, she slapped her palm down on the next rung of the ladder and caught it, but not before the man had slipped out of her grasp.

No, he hadn't slipped, he had let go. She saw it, his eyes had widened when her fingers came loose and he let go of her hand.

"No!" Meryl shouted. The man had caught himself on his arms again, but he was back down farther than arm's length away. She reached out again with an even more precarious hold on the lower rung. "Take my hand, damn it!" He was gasping, strength clearly waning. "Please—" You? Idiot? Man in Red?

Another sudden surge in the rush of water pulling him down knocked his hold loose, and Meryl watched him fall, vanishing into the coursing water below.

"Vash!" she screamed.

But wait—somehow his left hand had managed to grab hold of the last ladder rung at the last second, before he slid away entirely. The black-gloved fingers gripping the iron bar were all Meryl could see and somehow she couldn't really believe they were there. She was almost sure the force of the water must have just ripped his arm off entirely and swept the rest of him away.

It had happened too quickly, and though some rational part of her told herself repeatedly there was nothing she could do, the last few moments were playing on a loop in her mind. What if her hand hadn't slipped, if she hadn't—why did he let go?

And then suddenly he was there, again, somehow. His head reappeared, soaking wet blonde hair somehow still managing to be fairly bristly and not plastered completely to his skull. The man in red took in great gulps of air, his eyes wide, and his right hand shot up out of the water, reaching for the highest rung possible.

Meryl found she had been holding her breath and took in a sharp gasp. Throwing caution to the wind, she climbed down another two rungs and perched with just one foot on the side of the rung the man's right hand clung to, careful to leave him room for a good grip. She wasn't going to risk him letting go of a solid hold again and she crouched down and bent low to take a fistful of the heavy red fabric of his jacket's sleeve, near the shoulder.

The seams barely strained against her efforts but it seemed to be helping. The man in red pulled himself up another few iches, letting out a growl as his fingers closed around the rung near Meryl's knees. Meryl got her hand under his arm and put as much weight as she could behind her continual pull upward. Her aching left hand was going numb, fingers holding tightly to the iron bar behind her, and she prayed it would hold.

One more gargantuan effort and he pulled himself high enough to lift a knee out of the water and scrabble for purchase with one heavy boot on the lowest ladder rung.

"Yes," breathed Meryl, certain they were moments from safety. She managed to put her hand under his arm and around his back, barely, the tips of her fingers curling over his bony shoulder blade. "Come on—"

His boot slipped.

Time seemed to slow to an agonizing crawl; Meryl saw each moment in horrifying detail. The man's right hand had been tugged loose from the weight suddenly no longer supported by his foot. With Meryl's arm around his back he dragged her down too, her fingers yanked painfully from the rung above her head. As though in slow-motion, she scrabbled blindly behind her for some hold, anything, but found none.

Oh, god.

Meryl stared down at the man in red as she fell and was shocked to see none of her own terror mirrored in his face. Only determination.

He shouted a wordless cry that rang loudly in her ears and flung his free hand up. He must have connected with something because Meryl crashed into his chest without sending them both sprawling down into the rushing water waiting to swallow them up. Instinctively, Meryl just wrapped both arms around him and held on for dear life. One of the man's knees knocked into hers as he got his footing on the lowest rung and straightened, pulling her up with him.

Then he was flattening her, her back pressed painfully into the metal rungs. Her feet dangled, iches from the nearest foothold; he was holding her up, pinned to the ladder. Soaking wet and shaking, he kept gulping for air and his chest heaved against hers, making derringers and iron rungs dig into her spine. She could hardly notice, at this point. Water from his jacket was soaking through the front of her shirt and her sleeves as she gripped him tightly around the middle.

She turned her head to the side, pressing her cheek into the wet fabric of his jacket collar as she gripped him still more tightly, unsure whether she was trying to brace him or herself.

"Jesus fuck," she whimpered, suddenly realizing how close they had both come to drowning. She couldn't even swim, for christ's sake.

"Are you alright?" he asked, between panting breaths. She almost laughed.

"Am I—?" She stopped short when she looked up, seeing his eyes. They were those other eyes again and though the look he gave her was severe, it wasn't dangerous. It was concerned and relieved at the same time, and it was intense. "I'm fine," she whispered. Again, inanely, she noted the smell of donuts as his breath came in quick gasps, blowing down on her face in rapid puffs. "Are you alright?" she asked him in return.

He only nodded, then let his eyes fall shut as he rested his forehead briefly on the rung above her head, breathing heavily, collecting himself.

And then he was looking down at her again and that maddening sparkle reappeared in his eyes.

"You called me Vash," he said, grinning.

"I did not!" Meryl shouted, shrilly. She pulled her feet up behind her until she found the next rung and hooked the low heels of her boots over it, letting go of her hold on the Idiot's torso so she could push him away—carefully—enough to stand. He laughed at her, letting his arms go straight, leaning back to give her room. Meryl turned around within the circle of the Idiot's arms, facing the ladder and scrambling upward as quickly as she could. She could still hear him giggling below her and she ground her teeth together so forcefully her jaw ached like mad by the time she reached the surface.

Milly was near hysterics.

"What happened?" she demanded, hauling Meryl out of the pipe by the scruff of her neck and patting her down all over as though making sure her partner was still in one piece.

"I'm alright," Meryl assured Milly, though she didn't elaborate. She walked a few paces and then just plopped down on the sand, trying to catch her breath. The fiery glow of the desert sunsrise was already starting to dry her out, but adrenaline was still making her body shake slightly.

The Idiot emerged from the pipe and collapsed onto the ground next to Meryl, flat on his back, arms and legs flung out wide.

"Whew," he said finally, breathing out in a sigh. "I'm never taking a bodyguarding job again."

Glancing to her left, Meryl saw that Marianne-the-marshal had Schezar tied up again. Milly had done a more thorough job of caring for Marianne's shoulder during the time Meryl and the Idiot had been stuck below and the marshal looked as though the injury was no longer bothering her at all. Milly always did have a healing touch, Meryl was quite aware...

"Would you look at that," said Milly. The younger woman sounded almost awed and Meryl looked back over her shoulder without standing up. She could see now that they were at the top of the giant shallow bowl carved out of the rock where the town lay, looking down on the deserted homes and buildings below. Meryl stood and walked to the edge, looking down.

All the houses were submerged in water, up to the second-story windows. The whole area looked like a vast lake, the likes of which Meryl had never seen, or even heard of. It seemed incredible to her that so much water existed, could exist, in one place at one time.

"My god..." Her words escaped on a breath as she imagined herself and the man in red swept through the great pipe and spit out somewhere down there. Dead.

"It's alright," said Marianne, evidently thinking Meryl's comment was in reference to the destruction below them. "All the dammed water overflowed all at once, that's all. It'll return underground and make the town prosper again." Fierce pride seemed to glow in the woman's eyes. "I'm sure everyone who left will come back, when they hear."

Marianne turned to face the Idiot.

"Thank you," she said, sounding genuinely grateful. The Idiot beamed, but deflated slightly when Marianne continued, "You're an idiot, but you did save my life." Meryl smothered a grin and looked down, conveniently distracted by the need to brush some sand from her leggings.

"It was just a series of incredibly dumb luck," Meryl commented, glancing up again. The Idiot's eyes met hers for a moment and instead of being angry or hurt—or near tears, as she imagined—they seemed to smile down at her. She was unnerved.

"And the bullet-dodging, that was dumb luck too?" Marianne asked, wryly.

"Heh," said the Idiot, giving a big, fake-innocent grin and rubbing his neck self-consciously. "More like... a fluke accident."

"Hmm," said Marianne, nodding, thoughtful. "If you knew what you were doing, I'd probably be convinced that you were Vash the Stampede."

Milly giggled and Meryl's eyes widened.

What?

"And if I was?" asked the Idiot, smiling lop-sidedly.

"I'd arrest you," Marianne dead-panned.

The Idiot sighed heavily.

"I have to thank you two as well," said Marianne, turning to address Meryl and Milly. "If you hadn't come along, I'd still be bleeding on that floor. Er," she stopped, looking out over the drowned town. "Or down there somewhere."

"I'm glad you're alright, Miss Marianne," Milly said, nodding. Meryl did as well.

"You must be glad your job is done," she said, trying not to sound resentful. "We're back to square one." She glanced at the Idiot, who had wandered off several yarz and couldn't seem to decide on a single direction to wander further.

Milly rested a hand on Meryl's shoulder and squeezed. "Don't let it get to you, Ma'am," she said, comfortingly. The taller woman smiled down at her partner.

"Are you leaving, already?" Marianne called after the Idiot. He appeared to have chosen due south as his heading and was walking away.

"My work here is done!" he called back in an overblown and rather pompous voice. He waved a hand without turning.

"Hmm," said Marianne, again, watching the Idiot's retreating back. Meryl watched a smile tug at the corners of the woman's mouth. "The nameless bodyguard," Marianne mused, raising her eyebrows slightly. "He isn't bad. A girl could fall for him."

Meryl nearly choked.

"What?" she said, gaping open-mouthed. "But he—" is an idiot, irresponsible, saved my life "—how—what?"

"You have no eye for men," Marianne told Meryl resignedly, laughing slightly as she shook her head.

"Excuse me?" Meryl sputtered. The other woman patted her on the shoulder.

"Someday, you'll see. I get that feeling," she said, smiling wryly. Her gaze seemed to glance up over Meryl's head. Meryl turned to see Milly inexplicably wearing the same expression, inclining her head a fraction of an ich as a nod to the marshal.

"Don't let it get to you, Ma'am," Milly said again, her smile dangerously close to a smirk.