A/N: hello to everyone who has read this recently! i'm glad people are still interested in reading this story! so i figured i would update again!

Meryl automatically slipped into "Insurance Investigator" mode.

What was her goal?

What were the benefits of achieving this goal?

What were the costs of achieving this goal?

What were the steps she would have to take to achieve this goal while minimizing costs and maximizing benefits?

The goal was obviously to get Vash out of federal custody without sacrificing herself in the process. She couldn't think about individual benefits, since the very thought of him being taken to federal headquarters and being held accountable for the things his brother had forced upon him triggered strong and involuntary emotional reactions of anger and helplessness.

She decided that all she could do was take it for granted that the benefits outweighed the costs. These included having an innocent man take the blame for situations which were beyond his control, having the guilt of not doing anything to save him when she had an opportunity to do so, losing her job, being taken into custody herself as an accomplice, being charged with treason for withholding identifying information regarding Vash, losing her standing at her job, and losing a compatriot, friend, and whatever else they had recently become…

This tactic…just…wasn't going to work.

When she had to fight off a second bought of emotions, she realized how foolish it was to be running a cost/benefit analysis on the situation. It was what she was used to, but it was also completely and utterly unfit for dealing with this situation. This was Vash she was talking about! She was going to save him, and she couldn't bother with costs and benefits because there was nothing else she could allow herself to do. This didn't even seem like something she had the right to choose to do. She found herself compelled to act.

This went completely against her nature as an insurance agent and as an individual, but there was no other way to deal with the situation. Failure was not an option, so whatever it was she decided, she was going to have to throw much of her risk-aversion to the wind and just go with it. She was in no way interested in courting disaster, but she had to be committed one hundred percent to the task at hand and proceed as though success was the only possible outcome.

Meryl had never done something so rash in her life, and she didn't even have Milly to cover her. She had done brazen things before, but always with the support of her junior partner. This was brand new territory, and there was no way she could use her position as an insurance agent to attempt to finesse this into a slightly more legal situation. She was going to have to risk her job, her good name, and quite possibly her life.

Meryl knew she didn't have long: forty-five minutes tops. She would have to disguise herself, get onto the sand steamer, and find where they were keeping Vash, all while being as nonthreatening and unmemorable as possible.

She walked toward the sand steamer, looking around as she went. All the shops along the main street were open to take advantage of the presence of caravan drivers and foreign passengers loading up on supplies. Cash wasn't an issue, since she had been rewarded handsomely for her part in yesterday's rescue. She just needed a plan.

Meryl saw all kinds of people: gruff business men, laughing children, statuesque women, sleepy adolescents. She scanned the crowd for some sort of indication as to how to proceed. As she walked past a group of men talking, she overheard parts of their conversations.

"…heard he had two girls at the same saloon. That guy has got to be…"

"…wouldn't give to have just five minutes alone with that guy. When July…I'd just like to give him half the pain he…"

"…can't believe that he seemed so friendly. That bastard probably duped everyone in July, too. The devil, that's how he got so close…"

"…short girl, yeah with black hair. She probably knows something she's not letting…"

Startled by hearing about herself in the rumors, Meryl walked more quickly down the street. She ducked into the first clothing shop she came to. She was going to have to ditch her clothes. Everyone at the bar saw her uniform yesterday. If it wasn't by her height, they could identify her by her unique outfit alone. She walked up to the man running the store.

"Good morning! What can I do you for today, miss?"

Meryl looked around. "I need…something…the opposite of what I'm wearing now, and fast."

The man frowned thoughtfully as he sized her up. "Well, let's see. You're quite petit. I don't think I have anything off the rack that will fit you…" He walked to a rack with dresses and looked hanger by hanger at his inventory. Meryl started grinding her teeth, willing him to look faster. "Ahh…this one might work, if you lace it up good and tight. It has a corset, I hope you don't mind. And it's not the most fashionable color…it's from last year, in fact. And it's a little too long for you. I'll have to hem it up a bit."

Meryl barely noticed the plain gray color of the dress. "No time. I am about to leave on the—"

The man nodded, "Oh yes, the steamer is leaving this morning. Well, a crinoline would probably help with the length, and I have some shoes over there which might give you a bit more height."

Meryl shook her head. "Fine. Is there somewhere where I can change?"

The man looked at her questioningly. "I…have changing rooms in the back." He pulled a crinoline from the rack as well and handed the clothing over to her. "Think you can manage the corset yourself?"

"I'll be fine," she said as she walked towards the shoe rack, quickly located her size, and picked out the highest heeled ankle boots on the shelf. She then made her way back to the changing room.

Getting out of her clothes was a lot easier than getting into the new ones, but she managed. She fished her belt with the tools from yesterday out of her bag and fastened it around her upper thigh. She packed all of her old clothes into her suitcase, then shimmied into the crinoline. The dress laced up in the back and she tried to pull the thing closed herself, but actually did have to ask the man to finish lacing the dress for her. She put the shoes on and was about to pay and leave when the man stopped her.

"You're not even going to look at yourself before you buy?" He was smiling. This was definitely a very serious young lady.

Meryl turned around and was about to tell him she didn't have time for it, but caught a glimpse in the mirror and it made her stop. She had become so accustomed to loose blouses and draping mantles that she was surprised at how small she looked. The corset, the length of the dress, and the boots gave the illusion that she was even thinner than she actually was. And the corset gave her a semblance of cleavage. All in all, the image she was seeing was very foreign for her eyes. She looked like a completely different person and more than a little self-conscious.

The man interrupted her thoughts. "Might I make a suggestion?"

"Y…yes," she stuttered.

He pulled a small velvet box from the counter. "I think maybe some silver-toned jewelry would be more suited to this color." He opened the box to reveal two silver studs.

She looked in the mirror and touched her earrings. She never really took them off, but because of this, it was possible that someone from yesterday might see them and recognize her… She took them off as the man handed her the studs. Meryl put them in. They were almost too small to see. She pushed her bangs back and stopped.

With her hair up and with the dress, she looked like an unspecifiably young adolescent trying to pass as an older adult. She had been aimed for nonthreatening, but with her hair pulled back, she looked downright meek.

"Sir, you wouldn't happen to have any hair pins, would you?"

"Yes," he said as he looked around the counter, "as a matter of fact…here we are!" He handed her a few hair pins. She took them and pushed a few through her bangs to keep them from falling in her face. Once she had the hair secured, she pushed a few more in, just in case. These things came in handy.

She turned around and looked at the man. "How much do I owe you?"

He laughed as he walked to the register. "My, you make decisions quickly. Most girls come in and spend over an hour deciding what to wear. You've been in here for less than fifteen minutes." He punched some buttons. "Alright, you owe me $$220."

Meryl retrieved the cash from the front pocket of her suitcase and handed it to the man. "Thank you very much!" she said as she walked out of the store, her pink suitcase trailing behind her.

When she got out onto the street, she thought that she might have made a mistake. Instead of going unnoticed, it seemed that people were paying even more attention than normal. It was possible, however, that this was only because she was now directly in their line of sight, and possibly because she felt slightly uneasy in the dress. She made her way to the steamer ticket office, hoping that something was still available. She started to push through the small crowd, but wasn't used to wearing such wide clothing. The crinoline pushed up against the legs of the people in front of her and she found herself half-embarrassed and apologizing. She waited more or less patiently and was at the ticket window in a matter of minutes.

When she got to the front of the line, she pounded her fist on the counter out of habit. "What do you have available?!" she nearly shouted.

He didn't even look at her. "Sorry miss. We're sold out. Next!"

Meryl pulled out a $$100 note and pushed it toward toward the man. "What do you have available?" she said again with determination.

The man looked at the note, then looked at her, and was a little taken aback, but he regained his gruff composure quickly. "We're all sold out of first and third class tickets. If you want to ride, you'll have to take second."

"How much?" she demanded.

"$$300. Don't even try to hagg—" Before he even finished his potential bluff, she had the cash out on the counter, surprising the man considerably. At $$400, Meryl knew she was paying an astronomical amount for a ticket which should have been somewhere closer to $$150, but she didn't have the luxury of spending time to argue with the man. Plus, between her stipend and her reward money, this was something she could afford. The man quickly wrote up her receipt and handed her the ticket. She turned and with a "Thanks," walked toward the steamer.

She had about twenty five minutes to get on the ship, but she still hadn't actually devised a plan. She pulled her luggage out of the middle of the road and stood outside a shop to gather her thoughts. For a moment, she listened to the people as they walked by. A group of soldiers passed and she caught one of them saying something about being assigned to a prisoner on board the steamer. She instantly trained her ear on them and followed a few yars behind.

"Sounds like we've got ourselves a problem. How are we supposed to keep this guy under wraps?" one asked apprehensively.

"They say he's got the devil's luck," another added for good measure.

"Sounds like we've got ourselves a golden financial opportunity if you ask me," a tall soldier replied.

"What do you mean by that? We'll be lucky if we get out of this assignment alive."

"This guy can't be the Stampede. The whole planet has been gunning for him for years and we've never even come close to apprehending him. Today we easily pick up a guy, he doesn't struggle, he doesn't argue, and he doesn't fight. Plus, he's way too young. He looks to be about in his twenties. There's no way he would even be big enough to hold a weapon at the time July was destroyed."

"So you're saying he's innocent."

"Absolutely not. No man who is innocent is going to let himself be arrested without a fight. You know how they are: 'I'M INNOCENT! YOU'VE GOT THE WRONG GUY! LET ME OUT OF HERE!' They're a pain in the ass!"

"So you're saying he's guilty."

"Definitely guilty of something. But you've all heard the stories. Vash the Stampede is a cold-blooded and ruthless killer. He's not going to let himself be arrested that easily."

"Maybe he's planning to take over the sand steamer! And kill everyone on board! Ever thought about that?!"

"Nah, it's impossible. We've got him fitted with a choke cuff. Even if he got out of the holding cell, he wouldn't get too much further without suffocating. Plus, I talked to the girl who identified him. Even she had a hard time believing that this guy was in any way involved with a killer."

"She took the reward money, though!" At that, a few laughed.

"Boys, that is exactly my point!" The soldier looked around and Meryl quickly looked interested in a stand selling fresh fruit. He started to talk more quietly. "Everyone thinks this is the Stampede, right? And everyone thinks this guy was involved with what happened in July, right? The rumor that he's on the steamer has spread like wildfire, and I've already heard people saying they would pay to get a few minutes alone with him. And we'll be in charge of security. Catch my drift?"

There was a silent moment of understanding among the group.

"What…if…something happens to him?"

"Like I said, he is guilty as sin about something, so whether or not he is the Stampede, I'll have a clear conscience."

They were close to the loading entrance by now. Meryl hung back and watched the men check in for duty with a superior officer. She was scared and angry. They were actually going to let people hurt Vash for money. She had to admit, however, that this was a fortunate turn of events for her. It meant that getting access to Vash wouldn't necessitate her sliding through ventilation shafts with no clue as to what she was doing. She would just have to find him fast.

Now she had a plan and an identity. Her father and her brother were both killed in the Stampede's ruthless destruction of July. She wanted to see the man who could kill so many people and destroy so many lives and look him eye to eye.

Meryl had about fifteen minutes before she had to board the steamer. She opened her suitcase and stuck her hand in Vash's bag looking for…a-ha! With the objects in hand, she scanned the street for a hardware shop. As soon as she saw one, she made a bee line for it. She had seen this a few times before and hoped it would give her a little much-needed credibility.

A/N: and there you have it. REVIEWS! i love them!