DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

The window was nailed shut; that was against hotel rules, but it was amazing how money could inflict temporary blindness where rule violations were concerned. Meryl's bed was moved from her room into Vash's. Milly was free to tend to paperwork and grab some shut-eye, as the plan was to watch him in shifts. Meryl had first watch and remained cuffed to Vash; she felt bad about the window incident and absolutely would not allow him out of her sight if there was a chance, however slim, that he could have a head injury. Her job was to neutralize his risk potential, not get him killed.

Dinner was brought up by Milly, eaten on table trays from the pushed-together beds. Meryl enjoyed her meal, but Vash had specifically asked for salmon sandwiches and gotten tuna sandwiches instead. Also, he had asked for beer but was given root beer. He groused the whole way through. If Milly were a waitress, she would get no tip from him.

"Food is food," Meryl told him. "If you hadn't tried to run away from us, you would have been able to get your own food, so it's really your fault."

"Everything is my fault, according to you!"

Meryl shrugged. "Not everything. Just everything since I met you."

He sulked and chewed his sandwich. Swallowed. Bah – somebody went overboard on the mayo. "You did go out of your way to meet me. Not like it was the other way around."

Meryl dabbed her mouth with a napkin. "It was my job to meet you, just as it's my job to put up with you. The sooner you accept that I am now a permanent part of your life, the less things like being defenestrated will happen to you."

"What's defensed – demonstrated – what's that word you used mean?"

She sipped at her root beer. "Defenestrated. Knocked out a window."

Snort. "Those kinds of things wouldn't happen if you'd stop making them happen," he countered.

"Any time Milly and I cut you slack, you run away. That just is not acceptable within the parameters of our assignment. I won't give in, and neither will you. Unstoppable force, meet immovable object."

"Which one are you?"

"The one handcuffed to you."

Vash groaned, pushing away his tray and falling back on the conjoined beds. Meryl yelped as she was inadvertently taken with him.

She was about to scold him when he rolled over. His arm loosely around her waist silenced her retort and caused a blush she hoped he didn't see.

His breath tickled her ear. "Look out the window."

Meryl's eyes were used to scanning for threats. "I don't see anything."

"Because you're not looking. Just take it all in. The last little bit of sunset before it's dark. Fireworks you don't have to pay to see. Just look."

She did. The horizon was a bright blazing red, fading to purple a little higher, then the dark inky shade of oncoming night higher than that. Minutes passed, and the red color grew more intense – as though the lower the binary sunlight sunk, the more determined it was not to fade. It clashed with the growing twilight colors, bathing everything around in shades of red, orange, and violet.

Vash was right – Meryl was watching nature's own fireworks.

The light died, but not before giving its brightest red-orange flash over everything. Then it winked out. It would be a little while before the stars and moon gave their silver light; for now, it was dark, leaving just the flickering lights of the town and the dim lamplight of Vash's room.

"That really was amazing," Meryl murmured.

"Told you." She could feel his smug grin.

Meryl found herself settling back against him, enjoying the feel of his arm. This felt good, she thought dreamily…

Her eyes snapped open as she shook her head and threw his arm off. "We're supposed to stay awake all night." Twisted around to face him. "It's for your own good."

Vash had his head propped on his cuffed hand. He just looked at her. The intensity in his sea-green eyes made her uncomfortable. She looked away.

His free hand touched her chin, gently steering her back to his gaze. His eyes were so very intense as they locked with hers…

"Why do you run?" Meryl blurted.

"You saw the fireworks. Can't you tell?"

She shook her head no, still held by his eyes. Vash smiled as a thought came to him.

"Well, since you're supposed to keep me up all night – come with me and let me show you why."

Her head cocked in question. "Come where?"

He grinned as he jangled the cuffs and pulled her to sit up with him. "Only one way to find out." Proceeded to pull her off the bed and out the door.

"Where are we going?" Meryl demanded, curious enough to not fight as he took her with him.

"Have to stay up, right? We're getting some night air."

Not offering a chance to gather her wits and resist, Vash pulled Meryl downstairs, through the small hotel lobby, and outside into the fresh night.

"Feel that," he said.

"What?" Like when he had first asked her to look out the window, she couldn't pick up on anything.

"The night, insurance girl. Feel how the breeze has cooled down. Feel how there's no four walls around you. Just take it in for a minute." He breathed deeply. Wondering what he was on about – it was night, for crying out loud, it tended to happen on a regular basis – Meryl followed, inhaling deep and blowing out.

It took several respirations, but she did begin to notice a difference. The open air did feel better than inside – cooler, a little more rejuvenating. It felt good.

"C'mon." She felt him tug her and lead the way.

"Where are we going?" she asked again.

"Anywhere," Vash said. "Everywhere. Quit worrying about where we're going, just take in where we are."

"In a street in a town at night," Meryl retorted.

He stopped, causing her to bump into him. "Quit stopping and starting, you big oaf!"

Vash turned to face her. Moved his booted foot on the ground. "Hear that?"

"No!" she snapped, feeling mildly foolish over this whole thing.

"Listen." He moved his foot again. "You can hear the rocks shifting underneath. Happens every day. People walk here, rocks shift under them. Over time, the rocks wear away, grind into sand. Move your foot, move a rock, take a few atoms off. Make the rock a little closer to being sand."

Meryl was getting impatient. "And?"

"Every step you take – every step anyone takes – changes the world."

Her impatience fizzled a little. She had never thought of it that way.

"Hear what happens when you move. Feel the breeze on you. Take a look at the sky."

She did. The stars had come out, already giving some light to the sky; moonlight was beginning to be added to the luminescence.

"You can't count all the stars. But each one of them is a separate thing. And somewhere out there is Earth. Who knows? Maybe other missions were launched, like the SEEDS ships that crashed here. Maybe out there, right now, there's a whole new world being built. You ever think that we don't have to be the last people?"

Meryl snorted in derision. "It sounds nice, but I have to live in reality."

Vash shrugged and continued her on their walk. Pointed at various buildings lit by street lamps, some windows lit, some not. "Over there – a family lives there, husband and wife, two kids. They've gone to bed early because everyone has to work in the morning, even the kids. But that one there, the father's asleep, but the mom stays up late helping her daughter study for school. This one, those two shadows are the kids staying up late – their parents would be mad if they knew, but they're pretending they're camping and reading ghost stories.

"That one we just passed – they don't have much, but every night before they go to bed, they thank God because they have each other and tomorrow's another chance to make it better."

"How do you know all this?" Meryl asked him, pulled in despite herself. Experience had proven he had a way of knowing things he shouldn't.

His grin was lopsided. "I don't. But there's what the world is, then there's what you make of it."

She was going to issue a sharp reply, but something else came forth. "Why do you wear the red coat?"

Vash blinked. "Odd question."

"Will you answer it?"

He pursed his lips, wondering how much to tell. "I knew someone whose favorite color was red."

"Who?"

He shrugged, waiting a couple beats while he thought. "She wasn't my mother. But she raised me."

Meryl filed that piece of information away. "Why a coat, though?"

There was a moment's hesitation before he told her, "There are things about me no one should see."

She nodded sagely and patted his shoulder. "It's ok, I see now. You have embarrassing tattoos."

Vash faked a short coughing fit to hide his laughter. If she wanted to think he had bad skin art instead of what he was really covering up, why stop her?

"So what about you?" he asked when he was done. "Any souvenirs?"

"No."

Her answer was a little too quick, and he couldn't hide his smirk. "What are they?"

He felt a harsh pull on his wrist, a reminder that he was not the only one who could play handcuff tug-of-war. Decided not to push the matter.

But Meryl took his silence for a waiting pause and presently said, "There's just the one. It's – it's on my lower back. What's so funny?" she demanded at his chortle.

"Miss Professional has a tramp stamp!"

There was another pull on his wrist, even harder this time. "It is not a tramp stamp. It is – well, it was very tastefully done. But it was a mistake, and has since been blacked out."

Meryl hoped he didn't feel her grow warm when he took her hand in apology.

"Sorry if I was a little cavalier. People tend to take tattoos lightly. You know, there was a time when they held great significance, marking events or loved ones or status. Now, every wannabe tough guy has one."

"Your apology is accepted." She was a little surprised to have heard him apologize.

"One other question – where'd you learn how to use handcuffs the way you do?"

That was a little more like the jerk she was used to. He caught her blush as she said, "Shut up."

Vash chuckled at having pushed her buttons and continued leading her through town.

"Do you have any place in particular you're taking me?"

"No," he replied. "We're just out walking. You wanted to know why I run, maybe you'll get an idea while we're out. That tattoo – bad memory?"

"It's complicated." She changed the subject. "You talked about a woman who wasn't your mother. Did you know your mother?"

It would be nice to have someone he could talk with about things, someone he could really be himself around out here. But with Knives waiting, it was too dangerous to let anyone know too much.

"No," he said guardedly. "I have a brother, but we haven't seen each other in many years. Things are –" He borrowed her phrasing. "– it's complicated."

"Vash the Stampede has a brother," she mused. "How interesting. Is he anything like you?"

Sigh. "No. We have fundamental disagreements over some very important things. I wish I could get him to see things my way, but the last time we saw each other…things got heated." To put it mildly.

"Family can be tough," Meryl agreed. "But I've found in the end, they're always there for you. Even when you're not there for them."

"Speaking from experience?"

"Yeah." Her voice was somewhere in the past.

The gunman was quiet for a bit, letting the insurance girl have her thoughts. She eventually realized they were still holding hands.

"The tattoo," she said at last. "There was a guy I was with, but my parents didn't like him. He was wild and reckless and called no man 'sir', and I was young and stupid. They could see the truth about him, but I just knew underneath everything was a diamond. When he asked me, I said yes and we ran away."

"How long did it last?" he asked quietly.

"Two years. If I was as smart as I thought I was, it would have lasted less than a minute. There was no diamond there; just a heart blacker than any coal."

"How'd it play out?"

"He had this derringer he liked to call his odds-evener. One night, I took it and woke him up. Put it in his mouth and told him I was done, and if I ever saw him again I'd kill him with his own gun. I took it with me and went home. My parents should have been mad, but you'd have thought I'd just been away at school, they were so happy to see me. What they did after that made me even more ashamed I'd treated them so callously."

Vash waited.

Eventually she said, "The Bernardelli Insurance Society won't hire you unless you have an insurance license. Even Milly had to get hers before she was hired."

"Ok."

"Not ok." Her voice was just above a whisper. "I treated my parents like they were less than dirt by running away; but when I came back, they paid for my training, and they paid for my licensing exam. My father had to nearly break his back to earn the money for it, but they gave me everything I have. It still bothers me so much I can't bring myself to write home as much as I should."

Vash glanced over, saw tears forming. But he turned his gaze back straight – some things you left alone.

After a minute or so of silent walking, he glanced over again. Her eyes were dry.

"Has there been anyone since?"

"No," Meryl stated, steel in her voice now. "The job comes first. And I learned my lesson. I'm nobody's punching bag, nobody's plaything. I won't be hurt again."

"No offense, but you seem kind of young to be so old."

"I told you, I live in reality. When I ran away, I was fourteen. My eighteenth birthday present was taking the exam for my insurance license. I passed, was accepted into Bernardelli, and have been there ever since."

"And how long is that?"

Snort. "Quit trying to figure out how old I am."

Vash laughed softly. "I'll quit trying to figure you out when you quit trying to figure me out."

"Touché," Meryl conceded. "But I've told you enough about me."

"Not really. Why insurance? It seems pretty boring for someone who wears a cape full of guns and chases me here, there, and everywhere."

Her eyes unfocused as she thought it over. "People think insurance is boring," she said finally. "But it's order in a chaotic existence. And it's help – somebody loses everything they've got, having insurance helps them put their life back together. That's a good thing."

"Still boring."

"Everything has its boring side. But you get out in the field, working investigations and risk prevention – there's something about being out on the sharp end. You swear you hate it, but deep down you love it. You feel…it sounds odd to talk about insurance this way, but when you're in risky situations, you just feel…"

"Alive," Vash finished for her with a quick grin. "I can't really explain it, either, but you're right, there's something about it that's unlike anything else. More than an adrenaline rush, more than a cheap thrill. Some people are just born to run toward the danger."

"Born to it," she reflected. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm just naturally drawn to danger." As she looked at the most dangerous man in the world.

Vash's grin widened. "I'll say this for you, insurance girl – underneath the bitchiness, you're not such a pain in the ass, after all."

"You still are." But Meryl said it with a smirk.