The earliest rays of sunsrise fell painfully bright on Meryl's closed eyelids, and she winced and grumbled sleepily. She turned to hide her face in Vash's collar—
But he wasn't there.
Meryl managed to pry her eyes open, blinking against the rising suns, and glanced around in mild confusion. She was pretty damn sure she had fallen asleep curled up warm and comfortable in Vash's arms, but she woke up squished against the window with Milly asleep on her chest. The younger woman was snoring quietly into the front of Meryl's tunic and her long legs were sprawled across the shuttle floor and into the aisle.
"Milly?" Meryl spoke quietly, shaking Milly's shoulder gently.
No response.
"Milly? Milly. Milly," snapped Meryl, in a fierce whisper she hoped would wake the younger woman without rousing anyone else. She shook Milly again, harder, but all it did was add an impressive vibrato to her snoring.
Milly lay uncomfortably heavy on Meryl's chest, not quite making it difficult to breathe, but it was a near thing. Plus, Meryl couldn't quite feel her legs anymore, pinned beneath Milly's body, and she knew she needed to wake the other woman soon, or at least get out from under her (the latter of which seemed more likely at the moment).
After a few minutes of careful maneuvering, Meryl finally managed to wriggle halfway out from under Milly's bulk, shifting the woman sideways the few iches it took to free herself.
"Oh—no!" Meryl gasped as the younger woman's body suddenly slid further off the seat than she had intended. Milly rolled over and fell to the floor of the shuttle, the back of her skull meeting the plate metal with a ringing clang! Her head lolled sideways and Meryl stared down, aghast.
For a terrifying, breathless few moments there was only silence. Then Milly let out a deafening snore and rolled onto her side on the floor, still fast asleep.
Meryl sighed in relief.
"You brute."
The quiet accusation came from across the aisle and Meryl looked up to find Vash sitting there, frowning, with his arms folded over his chest. He shook his head disapprovingly as he tsk, tsk-ed at her.
"Just throwing helpless young ladies to the ground," he continued. "You ought to be ashamed."
"I—what?" said Meryl, still a little sleep-addled and entirely wrong-footed.
Vash just laughed at her baffled expression
"Come on, I'll help you get her back into the seat," he told Meryl, smiling now. He stood, gesturing for her to move out of the way. "Scoot."
Meryl had every intention of doing so, but her legs gave out from under her as soon as she tried to stand. Pins and needles stabbed at her body from waist to toes and she pitched forward.
"Awk—"
Meryl's squeak of distress was immediately muffled by the front of Vash's jacket as she fell face-first into his stomach. She grabbed him around the middle to halt any further descent and Vash caught her under the arms.
"Whoa, hey," said Vash, obviously startled. "You okay there?"
Meryl turned her face enough to speak, her words still half-garbled through heavy red fabric.
"M'legs're numb," she told him. "Milly's... heavy."
There was a low rumble of laughter under Meryl's cheek, and then Vash was pulling her arms free of his waist, lifting her just high enough to turn and dump her into his unoccupied seat.
Meryl tumbled backward and fell just short of striking her head on the window. She sat up and scowled, but said nothing. Everyone else on the shuttle seemed to have slept through Milly's initial crashing to the floor and Meryl didn't want to push their luck with any more noise, no matter how much she wanted to give Vash a thorough telling-off.
Vash managed to collect Milly from the floor (she still didn't wake), and he put her back down in her seat with much more care than he had afforded Meryl in the same task.
"I think she's got the right idea," Vash declared. "Still plenty of time to sleep."
He gave a huge, exaggerated yawn and slumped into the seat beside Meryl. She leaned back into the window and watched Vash settle in, arms crossed, eyes closed, head resting on the high back of the seat, just as he had done the night before.
For a moment Meryl considered asking him how she had woken up somewhere other than where she had fallen asleep. Or rather, why...
As if he could sense the question stirring in her mind, Vash's eyes opened a crack and he looked at her sideways from under long lashes.
"What?"
"Nothing," said Meryl quickly, shaking her head and glancing away again. Vash abruptly sat up, turning to face her with a frown, and Meryl realized too late that he wasn't really looking at her.
"What's that?"
Vash's hand cupped Meryl's chin and turned her face away toward the window behind her, twisting her neck painfully as she was forced to look back over her shoulder.
There was an awful crack! as several joints in Meryl's neck popped under the strain.
Meryl let out a gasping, "Ah!" of pain and quickly pulled Vash's fingers from her chin, wincing as her head spun around to face forward again (with several more crack! sounds as it returned to its usual orientation).
"Sorry," murmured Vash, grimacing. When he reached toward her face again Meryl withdrew, but with her back to the window she had very little room to retreat.
"Don't," she growled in warning, but Vash's hand slipped behind her neck before she could stop him and a soft, "Ohh," left her lips as he began to massage the newly tense muscles there. Meryl slumped forward into his shoulder, boneless, and Vash gave a huff of laughter into her hair.
"Shut up," she mumbled.
Vash gave another soft chuckle, but made no other comment.
Meryl's whole body seemed to relax as Vash's fingers put just the right pressure in just the right places, but eventually he drew back and she had to resist the urge to follow, to just leave her nose tucked in his collar until she could fall asleep again with his hand still warm in her hair.
But she did sit up, albeit reluctantly.
"Better?" Vash asked. He was watching her face carefully, with impossibly clear green eyes and that gaze that gave her goosebumps and made it hard to breathe.
When Meryl nodded (she wasn't sure she could manage words), Vash gave her a small, honest smile that somehow made those eyes even more striking and it made Meryl's insides do something strange and gooey and acrobatic all at once.
"Good," he said, and that real smile vanished into a wide, Idiot grin. " 'Cause there's something out there and we gotta go look!"
"What?" Meryl asked, half-dazed and reeling from the sudden change in Vash's demeanor.
"Driver!" called Vash, leaping to his feet (hunching at the last second to avoid hitting his head on the shuttle's low ceiling). "We need to take a detour!"
"Vash, be quiet," Meryl hissed. "People are still sleeping!" She grabbed him by the elbow and tried to yank him back down into the seat. Vash just peeled her fingers away and took her hand, pulling her up and along behind him as he moved toward the front of the shuttle.
Unfortunately, Meryl's legs were still uncooperative and she faltered on the first step. Vash was eager to reach the driver, hauling Meryl forward even as she collapsed in the aisle. It left her with only one hand to break her fall, which wasn't enough to save her from the floor.
Meryl made a whuf noise as the air left her lungs and her cheek bounced off the dented metal sheeting of the aisle. She pulled her hand from Vash's grip and pushed herself up onto her knees, willing her legs to work, dammit!
When she managed to stagger to her feet a few seconds later, Vash was there waiting.
"Sorry," he mumbled. It sounded legitimately apologetic, but from the way he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at his feet, kicking the floor, Meryl was pretty sure it was the Idiot speaking.
Like a little kid, caught stealing sweets...
He looked up at her again with a wide grin, though it immediately dissolved into a puzzled expression as he stepped closer.
"You've got something..." Vash began, reaching up to sweep a thumb across her cheek—where it got stuck. "...gross." His thumb peeled slowly away from Meryl's skin and he looked down at his gloved hand in distaste.
Meryl tried to use her sleeve to wipe away whatever floor-gunk had stuck to her cheek, but it only dirtied her tunic, too. She made a face, and Vash made a break for it while she was distracted.
"Bonsai!"
Thankfully the cry was a whisper meant only for Meryl, but Vash was already halfway up the aisle, moving remarkably quickly for someone who had to stoop and rein in all his gangly limbs as he went.
"Vash! Dammit," Meryl cursed under her breath. She hurried after him, careful not to wake the passengers that had somehow managed to sleep through Vash's lumbering rush forward to reach the driver. By the time she caught up to him, Vash already had a grip on the smaller man's shoulder, shaking him excitedly.
"Driver, take a detour!" ordered Vash, pointing out into the vast desert with his other hand. "Over there, I saw something!"
"Hey!" said the driver, thoroughly surprised to find Vash suddenly looming over him. "Get your ass back in your seat!"
"Sorry, sir," Meryl said wearily, arriving at Vash's elbow. She grabbed a handful of his jacket and tried to pull him back toward the rear of the shuttle again, but Vash caught her wrist and stood his ground.
"No, listen to me, there's something out there," he told her, and suddenly it wasn't the Idiot saying so. He met Meryl's eye with an earnest, man-in-red gaze and his quiet voice matched the solemnity of his expression. For a short time Meryl just held that gaze, unsure if she should really indulge him in this request.
Eventually she sighed and released Vash's jacket. His hand remained wrapped loosely around her wrist for a few seconds longer than was strictly necessary, but his fingers withdrew as soon as Meryl turned to address the driver.
"Okay, look," she said, half-grudgingly. "If he says there's something there, he's probably right." Vash beamed at her with an absurdly pleased grin at her acquiescence. "And you're probably better off humoring him now," added Meryl. "Otherwise he's just going to bitch and moan and pester and whine and beg and cry and plead—"
"Okay, that's enough," interrupted Vash. He'd gone suddenly sullen and Meryl felt a little guilty about teasing. But only until she remembered basically every interaction with the Idiot, ever.
"—until you finally snap and do it anyway, and then you'll just wish you'd have given in sooner," Meryl finished. The driver looked back over his shoulder at her, still skeptical. "Trust me," she told him.
This earned her another sullen look from Vash, but the driver sighed and pulled off the sweat-stained old baseball cap to rub his forehead tiredly in a gesture Meryl was very familiar with.
"Fine," he muttered, pulling the cap down low over his sunglasses again. "Fine."
The driver reached down to tap the compass set into the dashboard, at first gently with the tip of his finger and then more sharply with two knuckles when it didn't budge. Meryl was glad to see the needle eventually jump and swing freely, and even more glad to see it was pointing the same direction both before and after the jump. She shuddered to think about heading out into the desert with a stuck or broken compass...
"So where is this thing, supposedly?" asked the driver, sighing.
"There!" said Vash, his dour mood gone in an instant, nearly bouncing in his excitement again as he finally got his way.
Meryl crossed her arms and leaned against the high back of the driver's seat to watch Vash point out into the distance, seemingly at nothing.
"Go left," he said. "No, left. More left. Sharp left, come on! No wait, too far left. Come back this way. Good."
Meryl could already see a muscle working in the driver's jaw.
"No, too far this way now, go back," Vash ordered. "Right, good. No, I mean correct, left was correct. Look, maybe I should just drive for a minute, it'd probably be easie—"
"No."
Meryl and the driver snapped it in unison and Vash deflated, pouting impressively. He continued to offer haphazard instructions but now Meryl tuned him out, focusing instead on the compass on the dashboard as the driver navigated the landscape of low dunes in hopes of keeping the shuttle on an even keel.
The compass kept irregular time, its needle sweeping one direction for only a few seconds before returning the way it had come, and Meryl found herself thinking of Vash. Not of the nearby Idiot giving terrible directions, but of the whole of him. Of how his nature seemed as variable as the shuttle's current heading, how his moods could swing back and forth as erratically as the compass needle.
Sometimes they were small changes that would be hardly a blip on a compass face, between silly grins and genuine smiles. Other times, that needle would swing wide; from the maddening antics of the Idiot to the solemn resolve of the man in red, or even farther—to that other man she had seen only once, possessed of so terrible a fury...
Meryl wondered if Vash even had a true north, where the needle would point straight and stay firm. She wondered what that Vash would be like, or if maybe she had met him already without even knowing.
A hand waved in front of Meryl's face, breaking her line of sight to the compass. She looked up with a distracted, "Hm?"
"You looked pretty zoned out, there," Vash noted with an Idiot grin.
For a moment Meryl was annoyed, but his expression relaxed into a smile that was small and soft and real, and when Vash's eyes met hers with that look again Meryl's insides did their gooey-acrobatic thing in reaction.
"Double-dollar for your thoughts?" he offered.
"Oh, I..." Meryl began, casting about for any reply better than an entirely unbelievable, 'Nothing.'
"Hey, you two," interjected the driver, before Meryl could answer. "We're veering off the flats now, you want to start paying attention again?"
Vash and Meryl both turned to look out at the landscape the driver had described. The meandering path of Vash's detour did seem to have taken them to the edge of the wide swath of flat land that vehicles rarely strayed from in any passage across the sands. Once the sand began to build up into high peaks and low valleys, no ground was guaranteed stable and a shuttle like this could easily take one wrong turn and end up sliding down even the shallowest of slopes to get stuck at the bottom.
"If we skirt the edge of the high dunes we'll be fine," said Vash. "It shouldn't be much farther."
"Well, it better be worth it," the driver muttered. "We put way too much extra time on this trip with this stupid detour."
Meryl could see the driver grow tense as he slowed, avoiding the steeper inclines of the dunes as Vash had suggested, staying well away from any possible valleys between them.
Time stretched on and Meryl glanced sideways at Vash, finally beginning to doubt his earlier enthusiastic certainty.
"Are you—"
"I'm sure." He didn't turn to meet her eye, but Meryl could read the conviction of Vash's expression in profile, and his voice was the same reassuring calm of the man in red.
But after five more minutes of silence and nothing out of the ordinary anywhere in sight, they had finally exhausted the driver's patience.
"Hell with this, there's nothing out here!" he snapped, angrily. "You just saw some stupid mirage!" His grip tightened on the steering wheel, clearly preparing to yank it around for a sharp turn back the way they had come. "We're going back!"
At the same moment, something caught Meryl's eye; something out past the next few dunes was glinting in the bright midday suns. She leaned forward over the driver's shoulder, putting one hand on the steering wheel to keep the man from turning around.
"No, wait," she said. The driver scowled up at her and tried to jerk the wheel from her hands, but Meryl ignored him and pointed toward whatever it was she thought she had seen. She called for Vash without turning: "There?"
Meryl nearly jumped out of her skin when Vash's chin suddenly landed heavily on her shoulder. She gave a start and pulled away but Vash had bent down behind her and now he grabbed her by the waist to hold her steady while he sighted along her arm, apparently to be certain of the direction she was indicating.
"Yup!" Vash chirped (loudly, and directly into Meryl's ear). "That's it," he confirmed. He straightened again and one of his hands trailed lightly across Meryl's lower back as he stepped away.
Meryl almost shivered at the contact and glanced up at Vash, startled by so great an impact from so small a gesture.
"So?" barked the driver, making Meryl jump. "Where is it?"
"At your ten o'clock," she told him, quickly. "Keep the heading north-northeast, as best you can."
"Ohhh," said Vash, eyebrows raised as the driver corrected his course again, now navigating via Meryl's much simpler instructions. "That would have been a much better way to do that, yeah."
Meryl looked out at the dunes again, still trying to shake off the strangely charged feeling Vash's fingers had left in their wake.
"How could you possibly have seen that?" she asked him, eventually.
"Didn't I tell you?" asked Vash, looking surprised. He pulled the yellow glasses from a jacket pocket and slipped them on. "These have a zoom function," he explained. His fingers made binocular-focusing movements along the round rims as he voiced the accompanying sound effects: "Zzzzzzzrt." Then he gasped and gave a sudden, exaggerated jump in surprise.
"Hey, wow! You have freckles!" Vash exclaimed, reaching out to stab a finger into the bridge of Meryl's nose.
"Ow!" squawked Meryl, staggering back under this unexpected assault. She tripped and fell into the lap of the old woman sitting asleep in the frontmost seat, who, remarkably, did not wake.
"Oooops, sorry," said Vash, "zzzzzzzrt"ing his glasses the other direction again with an Idiot grin. "Zoomed in, depth perception's tricky!"
"You jerk," growled Meryl. She scrambled out of the old woman's lap and advanced on Vash (who hurriedly backed away in alarm) but a hand fell on Meryl's shoulder before she could catch up to him.
"Wha-whaaaat's going on?" asked Milly. The younger woman had appeared behind Meryl, yawning broadly. "How come nobody woke me up?"
Vash looked up at Milly over Meryl's head and tapped one yellow lens over his eye, grinning.
"My glasses have a—"
"Vash spotted something in the distance, we're going to check it out," Meryl spoke over him. "I didn't have time to wake you before he came running up here to bother the driver, sorry."
"That's alright, Ma'am!" said Milly, smiling. "What did you see, Mr. Vash?"
"No idea!" he exclaimed, gleefully.
Milly glanced to Meryl, puzzled, clearly searching for some better explanation. Meryl didn't have one and she just shrugged wearily.
"I don't know," she said. "I barely saw—hey!"
Milly had suddenly frowned and reached out to cup Meryl's chin in one hand.
Meryl tried to pull away, confused, but Milly held firm and produced a handkerchief from her pocket. She wet it briefly on her tongue before starting to scrub determinedly at Meryl's cheek.
"What is this?" asked Milly, curiously. Meryl suddenly remembered the floor-gunk on her face from her earlier collapse into the aisle. She had completely forgotten about it in all the ruckus about Vash's detour and now she scowled at the memory.
"Hey, ow," said Meryl, flinching as Milly scrubbed harder at her skin.
"It's not coming off," Milly said, frowning.
"Ow!"
"Okay, stop fussing!" Milly relented, releasing Meryl's chin and putting both hands on her hips to look down exasperatedly at the smaller woman. She turned back toward their seats in the rear of the shuttle, muttering, "I'll get the rubbing alcohol."
"Stop!"
Meryl jumped at Vash's barked command, and the driver slammed on the brakes in apparent reflex. The shuttle lurched to a halt and Meryl would probably have gone flying through the windshield (or at least been splattered against it) if Milly hadn't reached back to wrap a hand securely around her elbow.
Other passengers were making varying noises of alarm, jarred abruptly from sleep or rest. Meryl turned to hiss angrily at Vash, but he was gone.
The shuttle doors were flung open and Meryl ran forward, stumbling down the steps and out onto the sand to see Vash racing down the long slope of the massive sand dune a few yarz from where the shuttle had come to a stop. She turned to call for Milly but the other woman was already at her side with a breathless, "Ma'am? What's going on?"
Meryl could hear other passengers voicing the same query behind them as she hurried after Vash. She couldn't hope to match his impossibly long strides (though Milly could, and the younger woman immediately outdistanced her) and instead Meryl took small, careful steps to avoid just tripping and tumbling down the sandbank.
By the time she reached the valley between the huge swells of sand, Vash and Milly were already halfway up the opposite slope. Meryl struggled up after them for a few yarz before she finally realized where Vash was leading them.
At the very top of the next dune, Meryl could make out the shape of a giant, shrouded cross, at least partially buried in the sand. What she could see of it was easily two yarz tall and a prone figure was slumped over in front of it.
With a burst of energy and a scrambled sprint with her hands in the sand for purchase on the steep slope, Meryl caught up with Vash and Milly only seconds after they reached the scene. For a moment they all just stared, dumbfounded to find such a spectacle this far from civilization.
The man they found sitting with his back to the massive cross wore a well-fitted black suit with a high-collared shirt. Dark sunglasses obscured half his face and a crooked, unlit cigarette dangled loosely from his chapped lips. The cigarette twitched just a fraction of an ich and Meryl realized he was still breathing.
"He's alive," she said, shocked. "Milly—"
"Here," said Milly, already unscrewing the cap of their canteen. She fell to her knees at the man's side, cradling his head carefully in her arm. "Drink," she told him, gently.
Slowly, the man managed to turn his head toward the water Milly offered and sunslight reflected off his dark glasses, momentarily blinding Meryl as it flashed directly in her eyes.
She sucked in a startled breath.
Was that what Vash had seen, from such an impossible distance? Light glinting off the man's glasses? They had been iles away!
Meryl turned sharply to face Vash, but he was looking down at the stranger with a troubled expression.
"How did you end up all the way out here?" Vash wondered. The man lifted his head, evidently ready to reply, but Milly pressed the canteen to his lips again.
"Not now," said Milly, firmly. "Just drink." She glanced up to Meryl, looking worried. "Ma'am, we have to get him back to the shuttle. He almost certainly has sunstroke and we need to get him cooled down as soon as we can."
"Of course," Meryl said, nodding. When it came to things medical (outside her own limited first aid expertise), she deferred to Milly without question. "Can he even stand?"
After a few more gulps of water, the man pushed away the canteen and nodded weakly. Milly helped him to his feet with some difficulty; his legs didn't seem to want to hold his weight, and eventually she pulled his arm over her shoulder and put her arm around his waist to help support him.
He was nearly as tall as Vash, and at least as heavy, if Milly's posture was any indication. She wasn't exactly struggling to hold his weight (Meryl didn't think she had ever seen Milly really struggle to hold anything), but it was certainly taking more effort than Meryl would have expected.
"We have transportation, this way," Milly told him, gesturing back toward the shuttle with a nod of her head. "It's not too far to walk, I think, and then we can get you sitting down in the shade. I'll need to have a better look at you, make sure you're alright."
The man resisted when Milly tried to lead him toward the shuttle, reaching back to point at the massive cross with one shaking hand.
"I'll carry it," Vash offered. "We can load it on the shuttle, too." The man nodded his thanks and turned back, leaning heavily on Milly as they made their way slowly down the sandbank. Meryl began to follow them, but she stopped and looked around at Vash's startled, "Whoa."
He had hoisted the cross from the sand, lifting it to stand on its end.
"This thing is heavy," said Vash, eyebrows raised in surprise. He glanced sideways at Meryl and grinned. "Here, see what I mean?" he asked, letting it fall toward her. "Catch!"
"What?" said Meryl, startled. "Hey, wait—whoa!"
It was heavy; she put both hands up to catch the arms of the cross and its unexpected bulk pushed her backwards. Unable to hold the weight—it must be solid metal!—Meryl tried to move out of its way and fell, quickly scrambling back on her hands to avoid being crushed. The top of the cross landed in the sand between her knees with a thud! and Meryl glared up at Vash.
"Oh, sorry!" sang Vash, not sounding sorry at all, and he retrieved the cross and settled it easily over his shoulder. "Now quit dawdling," he told Meryl firmly, turning on his heel to return to the shuttle without waiting for her.
Meryl stood and glowered after him, brushing sand from her cloak and leggings before following. The others were making good time down the sandbank, even with Milly half-carrying the stranger alongside, and Meryl took those small, stuttering steps downhill again, just to be safe.
Going up the other slope proved to be too much for the exhausted man to handle and his legs gave out before they could reach the top. Milly made a startled noise and nearly lost her balance as the man's weight dragged her down unexpectedly. Vash was only a few steps behind them and he hurried forward to catch the other man under the arm, holding him up until Milly could readjust.
"So what was—a corpse?"
Meryl heard the driver's shocked exclamation from inside the shuttle and then his hurried footfalls as he came down the steps. He stood at the doors to block Milly's entry, shaking his head vehemently and waving his arms in front of his chest.
"Noooo, no, no, no," he said. "You're not bringing a dead guy onto my shuttle, no way!"
"He's alive," said Milly, ignoring the driver's protests and pushing past the small man to carry her charge into the shuttle. "He needs our help."
"Now hang on a second!" cried the driver, watching helplessly as Milly began to pull the stranger up the steps after her. "This is my shuttle, you can't just—oh, well, fine," snapped the driver, giving up on what was clearly a losing battle. "But he has to pay fare!"
The driver began to stomp his way back up the steps, fuming, but Vash called out to him, "Hang on, you have to help me stow this thing!" Vash held up the giant cross and the driver looked bewildered.
Meryl hurried to follow Milly onto the shuttle before she could be drafted into helping, too.
As soon as she mounted the steps, Meryl made a face at the smell of it; having been outside the confines of the vehicle for even a short period of time made the contrasting sweat and stuffiness of the interior all the more noticeable.
Half the passengers on the shuttle seemed to be peering out their windows or craning their necks toward the front by now, clearly wondering what was going on.
"It's alright, everyone," Meryl called. She tried to keep her voice just loud enough to be heard by those who were actually awake and interested in what was happening. She hoped to not disturb the rest. "I'm sorry for the all the fuss, and for the detour. We found an injured man out there and we've brought him onboard for help. We should get back on track in a few minutes."
That seemed to placate all but the nosiest of the passengers, and the curious few who remained were several young men in a group at the rear of the shuttle and Meryl sure as hell wasn't going back there to try explaining anything else.
"Ma'am?" asked Milly.
"Yes?" Meryl replied automatically, before realizing that Milly wasn't talking to her. Instead, Milly was speaking to the old woman in the front seat, whose lap Meryl had fallen into earlier.
"My goodness," said the woman. Her eyes were wide as she looked up at Milly and the man half-draped over her shoulder. "What happened?"
"Would you mind changing seats with us?" asked Milly. "This man is hurt, he's exhausted, I don't think he could make it down the aisle in this state."
"Oh, the poor thing," said the woman. "Of course, dear!" She turned to shake the equally old woman sitting next to her, who was still slumped into the window and fast asleep despite the noise and commotion of recent events. "She's a bit deaf," explained the first woman, apologetically. "Sorry for this—ENID! WAKE UP!"
The other woman jerked awake (as did any remaining sleeping passengers) and looked around, bewildered.
"What? What? Where's—Esther, what is it, what do you want?" snapped Enid, irritably. "Who's the stiff?" she added, apparently unfazed by the prospect of a woman carrying around a dead body.
"I'm so sorry to wake you, Ma'am," said Milly. "This man is hurt, I was hoping—"
"Speak up, girl!" barked Enid.
"Enid, shush," ordered Esther. She stood and wrapped one bony, wrinkly old hand around Enid's bony, wrinkly old elbow and pulled her to her feet. "Come on, we're moving."
"Thank you, Ma'am, and Ma'am," said Milly, ducking her head at both women in gratitude. She set the man down in their vacated seat as gently as she was able, but he still landed heavily and his head hung low with his chin on his chest. "I'll show you to your seats in just a moment," Milly told them, gesturing toward the rear of the shuttle. Esther pushed Enid down the aisle, and Enid grumbled crankily all the while.
Milly spoke again and this time her Ma'am was addressed to Meryl.
"Get him to drink the rest of this," Milly ordered, pushing their half-empty canteen into Meryl's hands. She moved away to usher the pair of old women to the rear of the shuttle, and Meryl thought she heard Milly ask if either woman had a hand fan. ("A WHAT?" "Enid, shush!")
Meryl turned her attention to the exhausted man, wondering if he was even still conscious at this point. She put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently and asking, "Hey there, still with us?" When the man lifted his head to nod wearily, Meryl opened the canteen and stepped closer to help him drink. "Okay, bottoms up," she told him. "Doctor's orders."
She raised the canteen to the man's mouth but he managed to catch her wrist before it touched his lips and his eyebrows came together over his dark glasses in a frown. Meryl looked down at him, startled, and realized he was trying to speak to her. His voice was thin and raspy and entirely unintelligible and Meryl frowned, shaking her head. "What?"
His other hand gestured weakly for her to come closer, and Meryl hesitated. She didn't have any particular reason to mistrust the man, but she didn't have much reason to trust him, either. Eventually she did lean near enough for him to mutter something hoarsely into her ear:
"There's something on your face."
Someone gave a tremendous snort of laughter and Meryl turned to see that Vash had just climbed back aboard the shuttle behind the driver and must have somehow managed to hear the man's remark. She stood upright again and scowled at him.
Meryl had touched her cheek automatically at the man's comment, only to be disgusted all over again at the feeling of floor-gunk at her fingertips. She wiped her hand surreptitiously on the nearest seatback and when she looked at the stranger again he was grinning broadly.
Meryl scowled at him, too, and pushed the canteen into his chest. He caught it in both hands and when his grip seemed strong enough to hold it for himself (she certainly wasn't going to help, now), the man raised the canteen a fraction of an ich in salute and downed the contents in one go.
By the time Milly had returned, medical bag in hand, the driver had the shuttle back in gear and tearing away at full speed back the way they had come. He was still muttering angrily under his breath and Meryl was certain she heard the phrases "not a hearse", "better pay up", and "goddamn goody two-shoes...".
The stranger had set the empty canteen aside and now he reached up to pull off his sunglasses, rubbing tiredly at his eyes for a moment before blinking semi-dazedly up at his rescuers. The skin around his eyes was much paler than the rest of his tanned face and Vash gave a single Ha! of laughter, pointing gleefully.
Milly slapped Vash's hand away with a reproachful look and bent down to meet the man at his eye-level.
"Follow my finger," she told him, moving her hand (with index finger extended) slowly back and forth close to the man's face. Meryl could see he was struggling to track it, blinking repeatedly. Milly continued administering various tests, some of which Meryl recognized from times of her own doctoring at the younger woman's hand.
Eventually Milly stood, finished, if not satisfied by the results.
"Definitely sunstroke—and dehydration, obviously," Milly diagnosed. She produced two lacy hand fans from a pocket in her cloak and handed one each to Meryl and Vash, who both looked at Milly blankly until she sighed, exasperated, and ordered, "Keep him cool."
Meryl began dutifully fanning the man and Vash joined her efforts, so enthusiastically that Meryl gained some benefit from their manufactured breeze as well. Milly helped the man out of his suit jacket and he slumped back into the seat again with a sigh.
"So, how'd you end up all the way out here, preacher?" Vash asked, conversationally.
Meryl turned, surprised. "Preacher?"
Vash tapped his throat and Meryl glanced down at the stranger again, finally noticing a white strip of starched cloth threaded through his shirt's high collar.
Oh.
"And the giant cross," Vash added, giving her a wink. She glowered at him.
"You're a priest?" asked Milly. The man nodded, and spoke.
"Name's Wolfwood," he told them. "Nicholas D. Wolfwood." His voice was low and gravelly and he coughed once to clear his throat before looking up at Milly with a lazy smile. He spread his arms wide, as much as exhaustion would allow, and ducked his head in a bow. "At your service, honey."
Milly went faintly pink and glanced sideways at Meryl.
Wolfwood hooked a thumb under the white collar at his throat and pulled it free, tossing it carelessly aside before starting to undo a handful of buttons at the top of his shirt. Milly looked worriedly down at the discarded collar for a moment but Wolfwood winked at her and said, "I don't think the big guy'll mind. Can't spread the good word much if I'm cooked, can I?"
Milly smiled now, nodding, and Wolfwood reached out to take the fan from Meryl's hand, fanning himself even more vigorously until the short strands of his dark hair blew away from his face, fluttering constantly in the rapid airflow.
Vash offered his fan as well, but Wolfwood just grinned and shook his head. "Nah, you're doing fine. Short-stuff over here just wasn't putting enough oomph into it, that's all."
Meryl was torn between annoyance at the short-stuff comment and delight at the affronted look on Vash's face as he found himself still relegated to his fanning duties.
"Anyway," said Wolfwood. "I got stuck out here when my bike broke down. About a hundred iles back, I'd wager. Walked as far as I could, and then—kaput! Legs went out from under me." He shook his head, sighing. "I really thought I was a goner."
"A hundred iles!" said Meryl, suddenly skeptical. She pointed up at the shuttle ceiling and the massive cross she knew lay above it. "With that thing on your back? It weighs a ton!"
"Well, I couldn't very well leave it behind, could I?" asked Wolfwood. He leaned conspiratorially towards Milly. "That," he said, in a very audible stage-whisper, "the big guy probably wouldn't forgive, eh, honey?"
Milly looked like she wasn't sure if she should laugh or nod solemnly, and instead she just became even more flustered. After a moment she seemed to compose herself again, though she was still blushing.
"Well, I'm very glad we found you when we did, Mr. Priest," said Milly, quickly. "You wouldn't have lasted out there much longer. You should drink more water, if you can." She offered him a second canteen, which he accepted gratefully. Milly turned to Meryl, explaining, "It's Mr. Vash's, I'll have to refill ours the next time we stop."
"What?" Vash yelped, looking stricken. The hand fan fell from his fingers, forgotten, as he turned to squawk at Milly. "You can't just take my—"
Vash's protest was cut short as Wolfwood abruptly choked, coughing and spraying half the canteen's contents across the front of Vash's jacket. Vash gave a squeak of great distress, no doubt as much at the treatment of his jacket as at the loss of his water.
"Vash?" managed Wolfwood, coughing the last of the water from his throat. His eyes were wide in alarm and disbelief. "Vash, as in, the Stampede?"
Meryl shared a startled glance with Vash; no one had ever made that connection quite so swiftly. People rarely even made that connection at all, unless some disaster popped up—and then it seemed like the discovery of Vash's identity was inevitable, as was the accompanying mountain of paperwork for Meryl.
Milly had apparently missed this exchange entirely, because she just smiled delightedly.
"Of course!" she told the preacher, looking between him and Vash curiously. "Have you met?"
"Uh," said Wolfwood, eyes still wide as he stared up at Vash.
Vash was staring back down, equally wide-eyed, though his gaze was solely for his now-empty canteen.
"No, I... never had the pleasure?" Wolfwood managed. He collected himself again and held out a hand to Vash. "As I said, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, at your service."
Vash returned his attention to the preacher and took the proffered hand, though he didn't give a name in return. When they clasped hands, Meryl watched each man's grip tighten—and continue to do so, each evidently squeezing the other's hand with as much force as he could muster. Meryl looked from Vash's face to Wolfwood's, alarmed to see mirrored expressions of slightly narrowed eyes and a cold, calculating, almost dangerous gaze, until Wolfwood's grip seemed to prove the lesser and he released Vash's hand and grinned.
"Well, anyway," said Wolfwood, jovially. "Hard to believe I'd find the legendary gunman out here in the middle of nowhere." He made the shape of a pistol with his thumb and forefinger and mimed the recoil of firing it, saying, "Imagine if I shot you dead and collected the $$60 billion bounty! That'd make for a really interesting journey..."
Meryl was instantly on edge at just the suggestion, and though she was certain she gave no outward sign of it, Wolfwood noticed. He glanced sideways at her and for just an instant there was that same calculating look in his eyes, now in stark contrast to the amusement in his voice. Then his face split in a ridiculous grin that could rival even the Idiot's finest, and he put up both hands to wave them quickly in front of him.
"I'm just kidding!" he said, with a booming laugh which, like the grin, seemed to Meryl to be as forced and fake as anything from Vash's Idiot-persona. "Besides, I'm not dumb enough to try going through your bodyguards, here," he added. He gestured at Meryl and Milly, and the younger woman laughed.
"Oh, we're not Mr. Vash's bodyguards," she explained. "My name is Milly Thompson, and this is my partner—"
"Meryl Stryfe," Meryl said flatly, grudgingly playing her part as she tried to get any kind of accurate read on Wolfwood, or his intentions.
"We represent the Bernadelli Insurance Company," Milly continued.
Vash, who had heard this litany at least a dozen times already, tried (and failed) to suppress a snort of laughter at the role reversal, though his expression abruptly turned glum when Milly finished, "Our task is to monitor Mr. Vash the Stampede at all times!"
Wolfwood seemed bewildered by Vash's less-than-enthusiastic reaction.
"What's the matter with you?" he asked, elbowing Vash in the ribs. "Who wouldn't want to be monitored at all times by these two lovely ladies?"
He flashed them another Idiot-caliber grin and Milly turned bright pink (again), but Meryl had seen Vash wince when the other man's elbow struck the gunshot wound still healing on his left side. Vash spotted her frown and he caught her eye, shaking his head wearily in a brief gesture that was clearly meant to say, it's fine.
Meryl wondered if it really was fine, but Vash was back to playing the Idiot immediately and she might never know.
"Hey now, it's no picnic with those two," warned Vash, with an overly severe expression. "Trouble follows them everywhere!"
"Us?" Meryl demanded, incredulous. "Follows us?"
Vash began to list any number of sticky situations he had gotten them into (with frequent help from a delighted Milly on the details), and Meryl watched Wolfwood laugh uproariously at each of them with that same stupid grin on his face.
Eventually, even finding Wolfwood out in the sand was somehow Meryl's fault, and thus was the draining of Vash's canteen also her fault. A frantic struggle suddenly ensued for the canteen in question, which left Milly laughing gaily at the childish and high-pitched arguing that followed.
Meryl stayed silent, watching their antics with mixed disapproval and unease.
She didn't like it.
She was put off by Wolfwood's insincerity—hell, she wasn't sure she even believed he was really a preacher. She didn't like how easily he had read her reaction to his threat (be it joking or no), she didn't like that first strange interaction with Vash, and she particularly didn't like how quickly he seemed to be trying to ingratiate himself to their party.
Even if the two men were just playing Idiots and laughing it up and wrestling absurdly over the very last drops of water from Vash's canteen, she didn't like it.