What was she doing? What the hell was she going to do? How in god's name had she ever gotten herself into this situation?

Currently, she was curled protectively around a very distraught, very alone, and very scared gunman. The fact that she was so close to him was drowned out now by the alarm and panic that she tried to keep stuffed down inside her. Overreacting wouldn't help the situation one bit.

'Overreacting?' Meryl almost laughed at herself. She tried to stop her brain from producing ten news reel's worth of apocalyptic imagery.

If there had ever been a time where an over-the-top reaction would be excusable, expected even, then this would be that time.

'Facts. Cold, hard, logic.' This is what she needed to keep herself under control. 'Don't think about the consequences. Vash needs you to keep it together. Just keep an eye on the big picture. Don't think about the complications. Don't think about the death, the destruction, the impending doom…'

This tactic wasn't working either.

A slight movement from the man who had his head buried in her torso brought her attention to the present. He must have picked up on her anxiety because his body had become rigid again and he held on to her more tightly. She went on auto-pilot as her hands played with his hair in a small attempt at comfort. Her body curled so readily into his and her hands traveled over him like it was familiar territory. For a split second, she realized she was in a dark room, in someone else's bed, curled up next to the person most people thought of as "the most dangerous man on Gunsmoke." If only they knew the truth…

Yes, this was almost what she had been wishing for.

'Yes…it would be almost perfect,' she thought, 'except that MANKIND'S GREATEST THREAT IS JUST A FEW DOORS AWAY AND THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN CONTROL HIM IS CURRENTLY WHIMPERING LIKE A CHILD IN MY LAP AND DOESN'T HAVE ANY CLUE ABOUT HOW TO DEAL WITH HIM!'

She hoped she had only screamed that in her head and not out loud.

She realized now that when Vash left to do battle with his brother, she wasn't entirely sure how he was going to stop his brother, but she had trusted so completely in him that she was sure he had a plan. She was sure that he would come up with a way to defeat his brother. She was so sure…just like a child who was certain the change left under her pillow really was from the tooth fairy and not from her well-intentioned, yet deceitful parents.

Oh god…if she had known he was going into this blindly, she would have secretly tagged along and put a bullet in Knives' head herself.

But right now, she just tried to think of other things. She tried to think about Vash and not his genocidal brother who was only being kept unconscious thanks to a pin-prick full of sedatives given to him at regular intervals.

Her heart was racing again. She was pretty sure Vash was asleep, but if anyone would notice, it would be him, and she didn't want the jack hammering in her chest to wake him up.

Just two hours ago, she had been blissfully ignorant of Vash's current dilemma. He had been ignoring her for what had felt like forever, but had, in reality, been only a few days. He came into town with his brother and had assured Milly and herself that everything was going to be fine. Everything was going to work out. Nothing could possibly go wrong now.

Famous last words…

Oh, she would gladly pay a million double dollars to go back to the point where her biggest problem was deciding if/when she should confess her feelings to the stupid broomhead!

That night, she'd decided he had ignored her long enough and waited up for him that night. She rationalized it as something other than stalking, telling herself that he was still her assignment and it was unacceptable for him to hide things from her. She steeled herself to counter his evasive maneuvers, but when he stumbled out of Knives' room looking so incredibly lost, all her posturing dissolved. He quickly covered with a plastered smile, but she knew something was very, very wrong. He looked thinner than usual, if that was even possible. Even the old pair of jeans and the shirt he wore looked tired.

"Hey…what are you doing awake?" He looked between her and Knives' bedroom door nervously.

Oh no, she thought. He is not getting away this time. "Vash," she said sternly, "We need to talk."

To her surprise, he took a deep breath and seemed to acquiesce. "Alright. Let's go into my room. I don't want to wake up anybody else." He walked towards his door and she self-consciously followed behind him.

She entered the room and watched him turn on a lamp and rub his face with a calloused hand. In every movement and every gesture, she could tell that he was tired. He was worn out. He looked like a wreck, and the smile he had on was starting to look like a mask that was beginning to crack. Had she actually looked at him recently? She had wondered how he could have possibly become so rundown in such a short amount of time.

He sat at the small table in his room and told her to have a seat. She noticed the bed didn't look like it had ever been slept in. Had he been sleeping at all? She'd pushed the thought out of her mind.

"Vash," she started quietly, softly in a "middle of the night" voice, "what's wrong? What's going on with you?"

As usual, he had denied any sort of problem.

She'd shook her head and looked at the table as she adamantly said, "No, I'm really serious. I know you've been ignoring Milly and I know you've been ignoring me. I know it has to do with Knives, and I just wish…" She sucked in a deep breath to finish her request. "I just wish, you would let us know what's wrong so we can help you."

She looked up now to see even more cracks in his mask. Everything about him screamed that he was on the verge of breaking, but he still wore that smile, which was beginning to look more and more like a pathetic clown mask.

"You and Milly…you already do too much."

Sudden anger burned inside her. She had kept her worry and anxiety over him bottled up for too long as it was, and there was no way he would be able to pass it off as nothing this time. "Why do you always have to be so damned self-effacing! If you need help, then let me help you!" She tried to calm herself down, but the attempt was proving futile. "Why can't you just tell me what's wrong? I can handle it. I've followed you through thick and thin! I've followed you through everything! What is it? Do you not trust me?" She was speaking much more harshly than she had meant to, but she couldn't help it.

"Please…please understand…" He was starting to look desperate.

"How can I understand if you don't tell me anything?" She was trying to calm herself down.

He looked down and inhaled deeply. "Meryl, I just wanted to tell you that tomorrow…"

Oh no. Not again. She didn't want to hear what he was going to say. He refused to make eye contact. This was bad. Inside, she started to panic.

"…Tomorrow, I'm leaving with Knives."

Meryl hung her head low. There was no holding back the tears this time. She put her hands to her temples and took a few deep breaths to try to calm down enough to speak. She began quietly. "Then what…what was the point of coming back at all?" She hadn't felt this empty since Augusta. But Sad Meryl was quickly succumbing to Angry Meryl. "Did you just want to shove in my face the fact that you don't need me around?" How had that slip out?

She was feeling righteous indignation…until she looked at his face. She'd never seen someone look so desperately lost in her entire life. "No…no. Never. I never, ever meant to make you feel like that. Never." He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. "But I just can't stay here any longer. I have to leave." He took a deep breath. "And I don't think I'll be back."

"What!" She was near shouting again. Sure, she had just about accepted that he was never going to return her feelings, but this was too much of a blow at one time. "What are you talking about, Vash? Why won't you be back? Please!" Meryl realized at this moment that for all her posturing, she was not above begging. "Please," she whispered, "just tell me why."

He let out a small, desperate noise. It didn't sound anything like a dam bursting, but that's what it signified. "I've tried my hardest to keep you safe and out of harm's way. I don't know what more I could have done. I don't know. I just don't know anymore." He was running his hands through his hair nervously, searching for the right words. "But I wouldn't be able to bear it if you hated me. I just wouldn't be able to bear it."

Meryl was caught off guard by Vash's sudden change in demeanor. She moved closer to him and took one of his hands in hers. "Vash, why would I ever hate you?"

"Because!" He looked down, his whole body slouching. "Because of what I've done." His shoulders were beginning to shake.

"Vash…Vash…shhhh…" She tried to calm him down. "I don't understand. Tell me what's wrong."

All of the sudden, his entire body buckled, and his arms were around her waist and he was sobbing into her stomach. "Knives!"

She jumped at the sudden contact, but tried to keep her eye on the ball. She thought back to the last time she saw him. Had he died under Vash's watch? "Is he alright?"

Between sobs, he managed to reply. "He's getting stronger. Soon, he'll be conscious again."

Meryl let his words sink in. "Wait. Do you mean to tell me…"

Vash cut in. "I don't know! I don't know what to do with him! I thought it would be obvious after we fought, but now, now…" He held Meryl tighter. "Now I don't know what to do!"

Instantly, her blood turned to ice. Her brain stopped processing for a moment. She decided to deal only with facts.

Vash was telling her the problem: Good.

Knives was the problem: Bad.

Vash didn't have a plan to deal with said problem: Bad. Double bad.

She tried to get control of her panic. She started taking deep breaths. She was still alive. There was still time. All they needed was a plan.

Eventually, she made her way back to the present and realized Vash was still holding on to her, apologizing over and over again. It took all her self control not to flip out right then and there. Somehow, she kept the anxiety in check as she put her hands through his hair and tried to calm him down. "Come on," she said as she tried to lift him up. He was reluctant to move, but he sat back up anyways.

He looked at her, his eyes full of guilt and desperation. "Meryl, I am so sorry to have involved you this far. I just…I just didn't want to disappear without seeing you again. I just wanted to feel like I belonged for as long as I could, and I've risked so much." He scrunched his face in a look of pure disgust. "I am so selfish."

She stood up and pulled him with her. She led him to the bed. He sat down. They were right about at eye level. "It's going to be ok. You're taking so much responsibility onto yourself."

"Aren't you scared?" Meryl had to remind herself she was talking to a 130 year old man and not a seven year old child.

"Of course I'm scared." Oh man, that was the biggest understatement since the Fall. "But we'll take care of Knives. We just have to make a plan."

"But, I can't—I can't—" He started to stutter.

"Stop," she commanded. He looked at her silently with guilty eyes. "You've got to get a hold of yourself or you won't be any good to anybody." She looked down slightly before saying, "I need you to get through this."

She had no idea whether he had caught the subtle ambiguity in that statement or not, but he did look to relax a bit. Orderly Meryl took over. She motioned for him to take off his boots. He complied silently. She pushed his shoulders down toward the bed. She turned to cut off the lamp, but Vash caught her arm. His eyes looked so horrifyingly sad and lost. He looked absolutely sure she was going to leave and he wouldn't be able to do anything about it. Was this the face that he was always hiding under that smile?

"I'm just…going to turn off the light," she managed to say. No one had ever looked at her this way before. He didn't relax.

She found herself immobilized by that look in his eyes. She was instantly weakened, instantly vulnerable. He was asking her to stay with him, and she didn't know how that could be possible since he wasn't saying anything at all. Maybe it was just her imagination, but she thought she had heard his voice, deep and pleading. She somehow broke eye contact and made her way to the table. She turned off the light and pulled a chair to the side of his bed. She felt intensely guilty for leaving him all alone after Legato's death, and she promised herself she would never let her cowardice hurt Vash ever again. Besides, since Vash was the only one who had ever successfully fought Knives without dying, she did feel a little safer with him, even if he currently was an emotional wreck.

She had intended to watch over him as he slept, but he pulled her towards him in a sudden crush. She had forgotten how strong he was. After a few seconds, she found herself on the bed with her knees tucked into his chest and his head nuzzled into her torso. After the initial shock wore off, she curled around him and found her hands automatically smoothing his hair. In the moonlight, she noticed that the roots of his hair had gotten darker. She thought it odd, but wasn't about to ask.

In the darkness, she could feel his body finally relax and drift into sleep. Only at this point did she allow herself to begin freaking out. In the silence and the stillness and the darkness, she put two and two together and the realization hit her like a punch to the gut: Vash hadn't had a plan. Ever. She felt sick as intuition told her that if she hadn't stopped him from leaving, she really never would have seen him alive again. She had seen that desperate, suicidal glint in his eyes before.

She tried to clear her mind. Vash had finally admitted that he needed help and she was going to do everything she could to help him. She would need sleep if she was going to be able to form a plan of action in the morning.