Glimpse
Meryl could hear the ringing shudder as the sands churned and she lost her footing- the Grand Worm's jowls punctured the ground in an alarmingly vast circle, ready to swallow her down whole …
And she woke up. For a long moment Meryl stared at the car window in confusion as her mind, half-buried in the nightmare, pieced back together where she really was. Inside the car in the dead of night. Their campsite. She had fought tooth and nail with the Undertaker to have the inside of the car to herself for the night, citing it was her right as a lady when deep down, she just didn't want him staring so smugly at her paled face any longer.
The events of the day had left Meryl fighting a constant state of sickness from being nearly digested by a worm. It was all she could do to calm her racing thoughts and remind herself where she was now, that she was, for the moment, safe. But her heart rate just wouldn't calm down, the memory of the Grand Worm's roaring approach still ringing in her ears.
Movement made her snap her gaze to the window above her head and the light of a glowing, green worm flitted into view and then inside- holy smokes, the car's windows were rolled down.
Biting back a squeal, Meryl ejected herself from the car the opposite way, toppling into the sand. She sat, grimacing, as the winged creature took its sweet time moseying around her sleeping area right where her head had just been. A chorus of snores from the campsite behind her told her that Roberto and Wolfwood were blissfully, thankfully, unaware of her cowering on the ground from a bug. A lighter snore drifted down from the top of the car and she lifted her gaze, glimpsing a slip of red material and a blue-green metallic elbow jutting in view.
Vash.
The worm in the car buzzed and Meryl barred her teeth, choking down a sudden rise of bile in her throat. Her disgust for the things had multiplied times a thousand thanks to spending time inside one and nearly dying in the process. Quickly, she scrambled to her feet and stalked off from the car, needing to put distance between herself and the invading worm. There would be no sleep anytime soon.
Merly collapsed with a heavy groan and let her gaze wander the expanse of blue-black sky and a dull horizon of sand dunes, her back to the campsite. For safety's sake she only put the distance of a house between here and there, the need to pout in peace unable to outweigh going too far. Survival was key, after all. Especially now, when they were trailing Vash the Stampede.
She had no sooner thought his name than footsteps announced she had company and the side of his boot entered her vision to the left. Muscled, lanky legs folded, his red coat fanning out gently as he sat right beside her. His face, full of boyish youth she openly made fun of during the day – "The grown ups are talking!" - watched her with calm openness from behind his round glasses. His left mechanical arm rested atop his one knee, metal fingers lightly gesturing her way. "Hey. You okay?"
Why did his kindly soft voice make her want to chew his head off? Heat was beginning to rise to Meryl's face, thought why she didn't know.
"Just … needed a change of scenery," she said dismissively.
Vash turned his gaze out onto the expansive horizon of nothing but sand dunes. "Oh. I guess anything is better than the inside of that car."
They sat.
Meryl turned her head, stubbornly refusing to have to look him in the eye. She wasn't about to admit that she had been scared out of the car by a bug.
Wind in the distance caused the sand dunes to shimmer and shift on the horizon, but Meryl froze, her gaze locked ahead. Were they shifting towards the campsite? And was that a low, shaking roar in the wind she was hearing? Was it wind? Another Grand Worm? No, she was being silly. She was imagining things, she was just worked up over some stupid dream-
Which had been real.
She had really been submerged deep in that worm, slowly digested alive.
"Meryl? Hey, you're shaking."
Gripping her own knees to her chest, Meryl ground her teeth and a sob of all things escaped her. Her heart felt like it was shoving its way upward, out of her throat. The feeling was both alarming and embarrassing, especially with someone watching. She forced herself to take deep breaths and, yes, to her horror, she was shaking.
"Stupid, stupid," she blurted, angrily wiping her sleeve across her face.
She was Meryl Stryfe, attempting to build a dutiable reporter's reputation. She didn't have room for a panic attack.
Vash shifted in the sand next to her and the next thing Meryl knew she was facing the man's chest; he switched to crawl-crouching in the sand in front of her, eclipsing the horizon. Without asking, Vash took her hands in both of his and Meryl felt a fresh wave of disgust with herself.
She winced and jerked her head away. "Stupid, stupid …!"
"Hey, hey. What's stupid?"
"That I'm so upset! I didn't die, but I …" Meryl's eyes popped back open. It wasn't even that she was particularly afraid to die on the job, but a death by bug? Her insides roiled against her. That was the worst type of death. It had come close to happening. She swallowed.
"Meryl." The sound of Vash's voice had changed from the light, caring cadence it normally was to one that was more commanding. The grip of his larger hands enveloping hers squeezed twice, calling for attention. "Hey, Meryl. Focus on me. You need to breathe."
She turned her head back to face Vash and let out a very un-ladylike gasp and did as he asked, realizing she had been hyperventilating. It took some time before her ragged gasps became even and clear with Vash reminding her to continue breathing. It was so strange. The concern in his voice reminded her of an adult- not that he wasn't one, but half the time she had trouble believing there was a reasonable brain in that spiky blond head.
Right when she was beginning to feel self-conscious of, you know, being two feet from the man's chest while they were holding hands, Vash spoke up softly.
"I went back, you know."
Meryl lifted her head. "Huh?"
The man's blue eyes looked back at her with warmth, framed by the tinted glasses he always wore. "Wolfwood thought I was a fool for letting the worm swallow me again, but I wasn't about to leave you and Roberto behind."
With a sharp intake of breath, Meryl suddenly understood her fear all the more- it wasn't just the disturbing way she nearly died … suspended alone in the bowels of a worm only to witness the organic walls of her living prison burst apart when the Undertaker sliced the behemoth in two. But that no one would find her. No one would know where her body was. Alone in the gut of a monster. A disgusting end.
Meryl observed the hands of the outlaw holding hers carefully, grounding her from the initial panic. Vash's mechanical hand gripped hers with the same gentleness as his flesh and bone one. Did she even want to know how that happened? This crazy gunman who was capable of attracting and causing so much chaos and destruction really held true to his peaceful policy, going so far as to help her. If he could arrange it, he would likely keep everyone out of harm's way, good and bad.
He made no sense. "Why … did you?"
The Stampede's smile was both caring and serious. "Because … you were worth saving."
He also made her head hurt.
A long, humiliating moment later and Meryl jerked her hands free, cheeks turning red. Again. She muttered a low, "Thank you."
Vash was all glad smiles as he shuffled and plunked himself back down to sit beside her, gazing towards the stars while Meryl rubbed at the side of her heated face. His scent lingered on her fingers. She furiously shoved her hand under her thigh, not wanting to think about something as silly as that. It was embarrassing enough he had been kneeling in front of her, consoling her like a little child.
Meryl blew a sigh through her lips to regain some composure. "Really, Vash. Thank you."
He let out the ghost of a chuckle and cast her a sappy grin, eyes shut. "I would never pass up the chance to help a beautiful woman."
He … he didn't say that.
"You must be sleepwalking! Ugh!"
Meryl shot to her feet, fists curled. "Weirdo," she growled, shoving Vash in the shoulder enough to catch him off guard; he flailed and toppled backwards in an awkward red heap. Meryl stomped her way back to the car.
She lost the battle of whether to look back or not and finally looked over her shoulder.
Vash the Stampede was watching her leave from his new perspective upside down in the sand. He blinked dazedly before smiling gently. Meryl returned to staring dead ahead, face aflame.
She ignored the wobbly feeling blooming in her chest.
Morning. The sun was already streaming into the car, turning it into an oven. Meryl groaned and stretched, wondering why she had ever needed a blanket in the first place when the heat always came back with a vengeance. She could hear Roberto's voice making brief conversation with Wolfwood out in the camp and Vash's tell-tale soft snores from the other side of the car door instead of up on its roof. She sat up and let out a groggy yawn, the blanket falling around her hips.
Wait. Blanket? What blanket? Staring, she pinched the red material between her fingers and lifted it before realization hit her like a thunderbolt. Her eyes widened.
Vash's coat.
In a flurry, Meryl wrested the coat from her body and shoved it out the open window. Right over Vash's spikey golden head.
"Dummy," she muttered to the sounds of his confused snore-snorting awakening.
Author's Note: We need actual Vash/Meryl scenes in the new season. Just saying.
