A/N: POKE...anybody still out there? For some reason, I am feeling the TRIGUN LOVE today...so I wrote another chapter... ENJOY!

The smell of fresh coffee greeted Meryl as she woke up. Without opening her eyes, she reached out to grab an alarm clock, but there was no table next to her. Disoriented, she sat up and looked around the room. She was surprised to see Vash sitting at the table reading a newspaper, and then remembered where she was: in New Oregon, on a loveseat, over a saloon…

"Hey there," Vash said with a smile as he waved his fingers at her. "I made some coffee." He gestured towards the stove.

"Um, thanks," she said a bit nervously. She was halfway surprised that he was still there. It was kind of weird for him to be in her room first thing in the morning, but it wasn't an unpleasant kind of weird. She stretched and yawned, "What time is it?"

"I'd say…it's about 6:15," he estimated.

Meryl burst into motion, all weirdness forgotten. "Damn it, I over-slept!" She stood up and assessed the room and what she would need to do before boarding the bus later today. "I thought I set the alarm clock for six…" she muttered to herself.

Meryl saw Vash wince a little out of the corner of her eye. "Um…you did…but I figured you would rather wake up to coffee than to an alarm." He was folding the newspaper instead of looking at her. "Plus," he further justified, "you went to bed pretty late. I thought maybe you could use a little more sleep…I wasn't going to let you sleep for too much longer though…" He trailed off expecting a lecture, knowing she was a creature of habit, but all Meryl did was take a deep breath and continue what she was doing, although a little more slowly this time.

"Well," she started, "I guess I am not in that big of a hurry. I mean, my bus doesn't leave for another 3 hours…" She had mostly finished gathering her belongings and consolidating them near her suitcase. She looked around the room again, searching for something else to do. Without a task to occupy her, though, she didn't know what to say.

Vash seemed to be in the same predicament. He looked at her, but the silence was becoming awkward. His eyes darted around the room until he saw the cupboard. "Oh yeah, coffee?" he offered unsurely.

"Yes. Coffee. That would be good," Meryl replied, relieved to have something to do.

Vash pushed the newspaper away and got up out of the chair. He retrieved a mug out of the cabinet, poured Meryl a cup, and put it on the table. "Here, you can have this seat," he offered, not quite sure what to do with himself. Standing up, the room felt way too small for the two of them to be in it alone.

"Ah, thanks," Meryl said apprehensively. As she moved towards the seat, Vash walked around the other side of the table. He looked too restless for her tastes, like he was going to bolt at any moment. "So…" she started, trying to make conversation, but nothing came to mind.

"So…I thought…I would go…get some breakfast!" he finished with a victorious grin.

Meryl began nodding. "Right, that sounds great!" She expected him to leave, but he didn't go anywhere. He just stood there, looking completely out of place.

"Well, I just…" he started sheepishly.

Meryl looked confused. "…Something wrong?" she asked.

He scratched the back of his neck. "My wallet," he halted. Was he asking her for money? "It's in…my jacket…" He kept looking at her.

Meryl was confused until she looked down and realized she still had his jacket on from last night. "Oh, of course!" she blushed with realization as she shrugged the coat off. "I'm sorry, I just—"

As Meryl offered him the jacket, he reached for it almost timidly. "No, it's okay, I was just—" He pulled his jacket on and laughed a little to himself. This wasn't the manic, high pitched laugh Meryl was used to, though. It was a sound she had never heard him make before. It sounded…natural. It caused her to look at him, and she was surprised to see a small smile on his face. He seemed to be amused at the sheer awkwardness of the situation, or at least feel foolish that they were behaving this way around each other, and when he looked at her, she could see that there was a humorous glint in his eyes. This only made her smile, which caused her to try to stifle a laugh as well.

Now it was silent again, but instead of the awkwardness before, they were actually acknowledging each others' presence. In this moment, he wasn't driven or desperate and she wasn't pushy or enabling. They were just together, with no roles to fill, and they didn't quite know how to act around each other.

"I'm…a" he pointed at the door, "going to go." He turned, but abruptly stopped and looked at her seriously. "I'm coming back, though." He looked around the room. "See…I'm…leaving my bag here, so don't worry…or anything…"

Meryl was completely surprised by this. "Oh. Okay…of course! I'll…um…be here, I guess…" She smiled at him, and he smiled back. He held her gaze a few more moments, then finally left the room.

Meryl let out a deep breath. That had been interesting… He had never bothered to try to reassure her before. And just what had come over her? Why was she being so shy around Vash all of a sudden? And why was he being so unsure of himself around her? She sat in a pleasant daze as she thoughtlessly sipped at her coffee. It wasn't that she hadn't felt this way around him before, but usually it was in situations where he wasn't really paying attention to her. He was either catatonic or comatose or suicidally depressed or unbelievably drunk or half-asleep…or half-dead.

This was a change, and it was…nice. It was…fun. And it was…completely ridiculous! Meryl felt so silly thinking all these thoughts. She felt…giddy…and that wasn't a feeling she was accustomed to having! She hadn't felt like this in what seemed like ages. She looked over at his bag and caught herself smiling. She actually allowed herself to entertain the thought that he might ask her to go back to the ship with him.

She felt…really happy. Meryl downed the last of the coffee in uncharacteristic haste, then practically skipped into the bathroom to take a quick shower. She tried to caution herself against getting too excited, but she couldn't help it.

For his part, Vash was feeling quite dopey as well. He hadn't acted like that in front of Meryl ever. It was hard to deny, however, that he was in New Oregon for any other reason besides her. He hadn't ever been quite so transparent about his motives before. But maybe this was the start of something new. He felt pretty good about life at the moment, which was a needed change from the last few months. And he didn't have anything hanging over his head, no burden to carry, no apocalypse to single-handedly prevent. This was weird, and it was nice. He almost felt like he could characterize his present state as being "normal."

He hopped down the front steps of the saloon and walked over to a bakery across the street, almost in a daze. As he was waiting in line to make his purchase, he looked out the front window and watched the people on the street. Since the sand steamer was leaving so early this morning, the town was already bustling with activity. For once, watching everyone going about their business didn't leave him with a sinking feeling of isolation. He could be like them.

He…was like them…

Vash noticed the girl from last night, Susan, walk out of the saloon towards the bakery. He suddenly turned and faced the counter. After a moment, he heard the bell on the front door ring and noticed the atmosphere in the little shop grew a bit heavy. Even though the baker was helping another customer, he was watching Vash. He suddenly realized the customer who had just walked in was a federal marshal. When the man put a firm hand on Vash's shoulder, while expertly removing Vash's gun from his holster at the same time, he realized the marshal wasn't a customer at all.

The officer briefly patted Vash down looking for weapons. "Sir, please step outside," the marshal directed. Vash looked back over his shoulder and saw that the marshal had Vash's gun trained on him.

With a sinking sense of despair, Vash felt everything he had been hoping for had been ripped away from him. It really had been too good to be true. Just as his life seemed to be taking new shape, his past had to catch up with him. It didn't matter if he felt like he belonged or not, really. It didn't change what he had done or what others thought of him. Thousands of people were in July the day he blew it off the map. Whether or not he had meant to do it was beside the point. They were still dead and someone had to answer for those deaths. He hadn't been paying attention, too caught up in the warm fuzzies he was completely unaccustomed to feeling that he hadn't even noticed what was going on around him.

As he was led outside, Vash made eye contact with Susan, but she quickly turned away. His previous feelings of good will were being replaced with the hopelessness and self-loathing he was used to. The marshal told her to follow, and she fell in step with the men. Vash was led to a small jailhouse not too far away, where what seemed like a small army of federal agents was stationed. They had finally caught up with him. He wasn't paying attention and he got nabbed. He was pushed towards a desk where an officer of higher rank sat. The man looked at the girl. "This here the one? You find them 'identifying markers' on his person?"

Susan stepped forward, not looking at Vash. "Yes," she said loudly. "This man has identifying marks that match the description of the suspect." She looked nervous.

"Thankee miss for yer testimony. You may see Officer Wallace about the reward." This threw Vash for a loop. The bounty on his head had been removed since he blew a hole in the moon. He barely noticed when the man made a signal. Before Vash knew it, three men rushed him from the front as he felt a heavy mass surround his neck from behind. One of the men bolted the thing shut. Another man caught his hands in shackles. In a few moments, his ankles were shackled together as well. "Young man," the senior officer started, "you are hereby under arrest for participating in Vash the Stampede's gang, Ericks Saverem."

Ericks Saverem? That name alone was enough to sidetrack his spiral back into hopelessness.

"Officer," Vash started, honestly befuddled, "what are you talking about?"

The officer looked completely unperturbed. "Now son, don't try to talk your way out of this one. We have eye-witness reports that you were present and participated in gang activity in," the officer paused for a moment and snapped his fingers. "Now what in tarnation was that town called…" he said to himself as he looked through some paperwork on his desk. Finally, he stopped looking. "Well, the name has gotten away from me at the moment…might not even be an official town, persay…" he trailed off. "But there are eye-witness accounts of a heavily scared man stripping down right outside the saloon there and acting like a hound dog." He sat back in his chair. "There is a fake arm, which you have…a grate on the chest, which you have…and I am assuming a drinking problem, since no man in his right mind would take off all his clothing, outside, and act like a dog…"

This still didn't make any sense to Vash. "But how does all this amount to an arrest?"

The officer sighed. "Young man, what we have here is a series of coincidences. It is a coincidence that this young man, matching your description I might add, walked into that nowhere town where Vash the Stampede was apparently terrorizing locals. It is a coincidence that this young man was involved in a gang kidnapping, and then walked out of town calling himself The Stampede. Personally I don't understand that bit, but that's what people have told us. And finally, it is a coincidence that The Stampede showed up around these parts a few months ago and got mixed up with a local feud, and several folks around here swear that you bear an uncanny resemblance to this man." The officer looked at Vash. "Now, I can't say for sure what your racket is, and I don't know how you are involved with The Stampede, but the facts is the facts, and what we have here is a series of coincidences that lead me to believe that incarcerating you is not a bad idea. The higher-ups think you might know something about the outlaw. Hell, folks round here think you are The Stampede, but I figure that devil would be a might harder to get our hands on, don't you think?"

Vash didn't answer.

"Anyhow," the officer continued, "We have a good number of folks who have an interest in The Stampede's whereabouts. Now, I'll tell you one thing: since they took that bounty off his head, the case has been quite a bit easier to handle. We don't have the crazies coming out of the woodwork looking for a cut. But just because the bounty was dropped does not mean the law is null and void! The Stampede must still stand trial for what has been done! Don't think that money is the only thing that makes the world go round, no siree." The officer was talking to himself at this point. Vash wasn't paying attention anymore.

The officer gave orders to load Vash up on the steamer under maximum security. He was under the impression that the bureau in December would be better able to confirm the identity of his suspect. Vash allowed himself to be led away towards the sand steamer.

Meryl was getting a little anxious. She knew Vash was going to come back, but it was possible that between donuts and neighborhood kids, he had gotten himself sidetracked. She went ahead and packed everything, including his bag, in her suitcase. She walked downstairs and returned the key to her room. She heard a lot of commotion outside, but tried not to let it ruin her good mood. She figured it was related to the sand steamer: people trying to purchase a last-minute ticket.

She pulled her suitcase with her as she went across the street to check the bakery. If he was going to be anywhere, he would be there. She pushed the door open and didn't see him. She almost turned around, but the conversation in the shop caught her attention. There had been an arrest made in there.

Her heart nearly fell out of her chest. Without thinking, she pushed her way up to the counter. "Who got arrested this morning?" she demanded.

The baker looked at her with apprehension, but answered her question. "A tall guy, lanky fellow. He seemed nice enough, but a marshal came right in here and took him right out." The shop keeper looked around. "Now I don't want to be starting any rumors here, but they say that man might be The Stampede."

Meryl was shocked. Vash had gotten arrested? How had this happened? There wasn't even a bounty on his head anymore! She ran outside and made her way to the jailhouse just in time to see Vash being led outside, surrounded by solidiers. He had one of the same collars that the slavers had used. They were leading him toward, the sand steamer.

Just then, he made eye contact with her. He didn't try to mouth anything or send her a message. He just stopped for a moment and looked at her. He had that half-dead look in his eyes again. Finally an impatient soldier nudged him along and he soullessly complied.

There was no way this was happening. Her mind wouldn't let her feel the situation. She felt herself compose herself and force only logical thoughts. Meryl was going to have to figure out a way to get him out of this.

But he was in federal custody! And she only had about an hour before the steamer left for December!

She was going to have to work fast.