Morning Sickness



Prologue

Mmmm... Vash the Stampede, notorious $$60,000,000,000 outlaw and widely feared Humanoid Typhoon, sighed as he shifted slightly in the bed, a goofy grin spreading across his boyish face. Still caught up in the semi-conscious stupor typical of the reluctantly awakened, he could sense the approaching dawn, but decided that he wasn't ready to open his eyes just yet. Not when the memory of the previous night's dream was still filtering pleasurably across his inner eye.

Unlike all of the other dreams of this nature he'd had in the past, this one had felt much more - there was no other word for it - vivid. If he concentrated, he found that he could still remember certain aspects of his lover with such detail that was surprising, even to him. Surprising, in that he had really no experience to base such details on. But that was beside the point.

He could use his imagination - something in which he had always excelled at - and recall his partner with ease, to dwell at leisure on all her finer points. Her soft hands gliding up along his chest, the weight of her delicate body pressing down lightly on top of his, her head curled against his neck...

Aaahhh... Meryl Stryfe, claims investigator for the Bernadelli Insurance Society and employee of the month, multiple times over, unconsciously cooed with pleasure as she pillowed her right hand under her head. Somewhere in the back of her mind she was sure her internal clock must have gone off - she had a knack for always knowing what time it was, even without a watch - and that she needed to be getting up, but...

Eyes still firmly closed, a languid half-smile curled up the left corner of her mouth. There was no need to rush the morning, not when there were much more... interesting things to focus on in the dark. She almost giggled as she shifted her weight a little more comfortably.

There was no question about it. Unlike all of the other dreams of this nature she'd had in the past, this one had felt much more - there was no other way to describe it - believable. In truth, she hadn't even thought herself capable of having such dreams, not having had the experience to go on. Which was something that made this one all the more enjoyable. If she concentrated, she still could recall several fascinating details of her partner's body. The many peculiar markings covering his long, lean form; his powerful arms wrapping tightly around her; the feel of his gentle hands sliding down along her backside...

Hmm... It was amazing, Vash thought fuzzily. He was almost awake now - at least, he thought he was - yet the dream was still quite tangible in his mind. He could swear he was really feeling the weight of his dream lover on top of him, could feel the warm breath against his throat, the concave slope of her back underneath his forearms, trace the tantalizing groove down her spine... Was such virtual realism really possible for a dream?

...A certain very firm roundness cupped between his hands...

Then again, does it really matter?

Ehh... How strange, thought Meryl. She had almost decided that it was time to finally wake up when she felt her dream companion reach down and start doing this to her. She didn't think she had consciously willed that to happen... had she?

Regardless of that, she found that she really didn't mind. It was rather a nice sensation. On the whole, not a bad way to wake up in the morning.

Still, something didn't feel quite right...

"Not so hard, honey," she murmured.

Whoa, thought Vash. This is so freaky. He could have sworn he'd actually heard that.

"Sorry, babe," he whispered. "This any better?"

This just seems all so real.

"Mmmm... much. Thanks, Vash."

"Anytime, Meryl."

A little too real.



Morning Sickness
A Trigun fanfic by Astra M.

Chapter One

Bowe's Flats, 325 iles SSE of December

Vash bolted upright so fast he accidentally knocked Meryl flat on her back against the foot of the bed. She was barely there a moment before she, too, had sprung back up on her knees to confront her unexpected bedmate. They stared at each other in mute shock, numbly registering their mutual state of semi-undress and general disarray while their jaws fell slack. Then Vash's gaze took a noticeable dip southwards, eyes growing even wider. Meryl reflexively threw her arms across her chest.

It was then that their tongues finally reestablished a tenuous connection with their brains, Vash's slightly faster than Meryl's.

"What-!?!"

"You-?!?"

"Here-!?!"

"Together-?!?"

"When-!?!"

"How-?!?"

"Last night-!?!"

"OH!!!" they screamed together, as vague half-memories of their nocturnal reveries suddenly came rushing back. As the full impact of these thoughts with all their attendant insinuations overcame them, they lapsed back into bewildered silence, Vash now crouched on his haunches, leaning forward heavily on his arms, Meryl with hands pressed over her pale cheeks.

"Last..." began Meryl.

"... night," finished Vash.

With that hanging thickly between them in the obscure morning air, they each slumped backwards on the bed to warily regard the other. As their confusion and disbelief mounted with each passing moment, they guardedly watched each other's glowing faces, searching for something - anything - that might reveal how such a thing came to pass. A minute of impasse that felt like eternity slipped by, when as if by Fate's hand a fragment of lucidity reached up from the pits of their churning stomachs and finally made a connection.

Then they both promptly leaned over the side of the bed and threw up.

Vash, recovering the soonest, tiredly wiped his chin with his arm as he watched Meryl heaving wretchedly beside him. He frowned worriedly as he observed her shaking form, a flood of disjointed thoughts running through his mind, wondering which of them was the safest to act on. Then as her motions subsided, he hesitatingly reached out to place his hand softly on her arm.

"Uh... you okay?"

At his touch, Meryl quickly jerked back up, one hand now firmly clamped over her mouth, the other holding the front of her blouse closed. Avoiding Vash's gaze, she almost vaulted across the bed and ran out the door without further comment.

Vash listened to her retreating steps in the hallway, staring forlornly at the open door. Finally turning away, he cupped his forehead in his hands and closed his eyes.

"Oh, man... mmmrph!"

*****

Meryl made her way back through the inn's corridors on a beeline for her room, almost at a run, effortlessly jumping over a man dressed in a frilly pink tutu who was passed out in the middle of a stairwell and just avoiding stepping on a stray black cat sleeping carelessly at the very top of the main landing. Feeling an increasingly pressing urgency start to overtake her, she was soon thundering down the hallway.

I'm not going to make it!

Hand still firmly clamped over mouth, she turned the last corner, very nearly running over a large person who was passed out against the wall, several empty ice cream containers nearby. Letting go of her blouse, she frantically fumbled with the doorknob, beads of sweat now breaking out along her brow.

Where are my keys?!? Where are my - oh no! I must have left them in Va- No! I won't think... I can't go ba....Oh no oh no oh no no no!!!

"Milly!" Meryl screamed as she began to pound loudly on the door, unmindful of the disturbance she knew she would be causing the inn's other guests. "Damnit, Milly! Wake up! Please!"

No response. Meryl twisted back around, sheer desperation giving her a half-crazed look. Her glazed eyes scanned up and down the hall, covering every inch, looking for something, anything...

Like an empty ice cream container. Meryl all but threw herself on the floor to grab the nearest one when her eyes fell on the face of the unconscious person, who had apparently not been in the least disturbed by all her racket. The face of a very familiar person, actually.

"Milly?"

Milly Thompson, formidable strongwoman of the M&M duo and voted most likely to be on permanent janitorial duty by her fellow Bernadelli employees, lay propped against the wall, a decidedly contented smile plastered across her cheery face. Meryl could just make out a dribble of chocolate in the corner of her mouth. Dropping the container, she now grabbed hold of the larger girl's blouse and began to shake her.

"Milly, please, wake up! I need to get your room key. Milly!"

Her comatose partner giggled. "I'm sorry, mister, but I just don't do that sort of thing... I said I wanted pistachio nuts with my order!"

Letting go of her friend's collar, Meryl fought the urge to pull her own hair out - when Milly was like this, it would take the sound of a Sandsteamer crash to wake her up. And she was rapidly running out of time...

"Sorry, Milly, I'd wake you up to ask you first and find-out-what-the-heck-it-is-you're-doing-out-here-but this is an emergency." Quickly rifling through her coat pockets, Meryl yanked out the key and scrambled back to the door. Finally meeting with success, she hurled herself though and slammed it shut behind her.

The loud bang succeeded where Meryl had not in rousing Milly from her stupor. Blearily gazing up at her room door, Milly blinked in momentary confusion, then smiled languidly. "Meryl?... Izzat you? Where ya been? I had the strangest dream..."

Then she promptly rolled over and threw up.

*****

The sun had fully risen when Vash finally made his way along the hallway, reluctantly heading in what he thought was the general direction of the dining room. Sticking his head in a basin of cold water for a half hour had not abated his nausea nor bestowed any clarity to the unsettling events of that morning. If anything, he only felt worse.

My head... I don't understand... feels like it's splitting in half. And my stomach... I've been drunk before... but I... I never... what in the world happened last night? Did I lose... no... this hangover, never felt one like it... but I couldn't have... really lost it?

Did Meryl and I ... really..?

With that disturbing thought, Vash paused in the entranceway of the cafe. He would have wished anything, even facing his own brother, than what he knew he would soon have to deal with that morning. For a moment, he seriously considered living up to his purported reputation and really act the coward. Maybe he should do like he did in the past, just head on out of town without a word? He might even catch the bus to the next settlement before the girls were even -

"Good morning, Mr. Vash!"

Milly called out cheerfully to him, in the process drawing a few annoyed glances from several of the cafe's other patrons, most of whom did not look quite as pleased to be awake. Vash saw that the two women were sitting at a table near the window well away from everyone else, and appeared to have already ordered a (largely) liquid breakfast; Milly looking little worse for wear; Meryl, decidedly ill.

Swallowing hard, Vash made his way over. Pulling out a chair, he nervously ran a hand through his spiky hair and sat down, quickly snapping up a menu and propping it open in front of his face, out of either woman's direct line of vision.

"Er... good morning, Milly... Meryl."

"Morning," she mumbled softly, not looking up.

They lapsed into silence - unusual for their group, even if it was morning - and Vash made a show of being very interested in reading the menu while Meryl stared at the street outside, ignoring her coffee growing cold on the table. Unaccustomed to the lethargic display of her companions - she was usually the slowest one in the morning - Milly glanced over the rim of her teacup between the two. She looked thoughtful as she quietly studied their faces, then setting her cup down, decided that a little conversation was in order.

"So, how did you two sleep last night?" Milly asked brightly.

That brought them around.

"HUH?!?" Vash and Meryl fairly shouted at the same time, causing several other guests to turn around and glare.

"Last night," Milly repeated patiently, pouring herself another cup from a large, green bottle labeled Wilde Thomas Olde Tyme Tea Tonic. "How did you sleep?"

"Uh"

"Er..."

"We... that is, I-"

"Well, you see..."

"Fine, just fine, really..." Meryl finally managed to get out, in what she hoped was a casual voice.

"Yeah," Vash added quickly. "Just great! Ha, ha, ha! Couldn't be better! Ha, ha, ha! I should have more nights like tha- ...uh... ahuh, aha, ah, ha, ha, HA-"

"Oh?" Milly looked surprised.

"Why do you ask?" Meryl interrupted, as nonchalantly as possible while drawing her foot back from where she had kicked Vash under the table.

"I was just thinking that both of you looked somehow, I don't know, different this morning."

The two visibly paled as Milly took another contemplative sip.

"D-different?" Vash stammered. "How so?" Meryl stayed speechless.

"Well, you're both green for one thing. Aren't you feeling sick?"

They stared at Milly in disbelief, who only blinked innocently back at them, before simultaneously letting out private sighs of relief. Looking up, they accidentally caught each other's eye, and with the unspoken tension between them seemingly diffused, they began to chuckle sheepishly.

"What's so funny?" asked Milly, still watching them.

"Uh... nothing, really," said Vash, as he and Meryl both reddened slightly.

"Well, I'm happy to see that you two made up, in any case."

They stopped laughing. Made up?

Milly continued. "I'm so glad. I was really worried there for a moment. After what happened at dinner last night, I thought Meryl was going to slap you, Mr. Vash."

Slap him? Meryl was startled. I was angry with him? B-but then how.?

Meryl furrowed her brow in puzzlement. It wasn't the knowledge that she had allegedly been upset with Vash (that of itself was neither alarming nor surprising), it was that she simply couldn't recollect any of it. And what was more -

Come to think of it, I can't really remember anything at all since before. waking up this morning.

Meryl felt her heart begin to thump ominously as she shifted nervously in her chair. Questions that had been swirling around in her mind just before Vash had appeared at the table, throwing off her train of thought entirely, again clamored for her immediate attention.

I don't understand. I don't understand. This makes no sense at all!

There were two things that Meryl always prided herself on - her trust in her own senses and her belief that she could always be depended upon to act responsibly, no matter how events might spiral out of control around her, as they were often prone to in Vash's company. She was certain of this. It was the only thing that kept her relatively sane after all this time.

Last night. I only had a stupid dream. And. That's ALL it was. Okay. So maybe it was a little more. detailed than the average dream. All right, just a *bit* more. A lot more. But It Was A Dream. And so what if that pervert was in my bed.er, in his bed. in his bedroom. that I was in. So... Anyway, it's beside the point. It's not possible.that. Of course not. Ridiculous. I *know* myself. And besides, I couldn't just forget doing something like... that. I'd remember. I'm sure of it...

But then why can't I really remember.

Meryl felt her stomach churning.

NO. That can't be... I * know* I would never just... I wouldn't!

She snuck a covert glance at Vash.

...wouldn't I?

Unexpectedly, she felt her chest tighten.

*Wouldn't* I?!?

Hardly believing it possible, she felt herself grow paler.

Oh, heavens, what in the world *happened* last night?

Unknown to her, Vash was likewise confronting a few unpleasant thoughts of his own. Slap me? The gunman frowned. It wasn't the revelation that he had supposedly done something to anger Meryl (that was neither unusual nor particularly troubling), it was that he couldn't for the life of him remember any of it.

But there was something else...

"So Meryl was angry with me... what's unusual about that?" Vash laughed carelessly, while in the back of his mind warning bells were going off.

Milly swirled her cup idly. "Actually, Mr. Vash, what surprised me was what you did to provoke her."

Eh? Vash was taken aback.

"And then you two went and made that silly bet. It really shocked me."

"Bet? What bet?" Vash blurted out before he could stop himself, as Meryl raised her head to stare intently at her friend.

Milly only looked at back Vash quizzically. "Don't you remember?"


Chapter Two

~The previous evening~

The celebration had already been well underway when Vash, Meryl and Milly arrived at the hotel, the only one in Bowe's Flats, looking for that night's lodging. It had been a long, grueling trek across the desert for the past few days just to reach this small town, one of the more remote and isolated settlements in that region - though remote and isolated were hardly the words one would use to describe it at that moment.

It figures we would arrive in the middle of their annual festival, Meryl thought as she observed the throng of people milling about the streets. All she really wanted was dinner, a bath, and a nice, soft bed to collapse into and sleep off all her accumulated travel sores. On second thought, forget the dinner, Meryl thought as she was checking in a room for Milly and herself. Just a nice, long bath will do... if Vash doesn't do anything reckless tonight, she amended.

Smiling in anticipation with these thoughts, she walked back to her partner, who was waiting patiently with their baggage in the lobby. As she approached, Meryl saw that the tall girl was in a good mood, humming merrily along to a catchy tune that was wafting out from the inn's adjacent saloon. A sign reading Private Party hung over the saloon's entrance.

"Here's your room key," Meryl said, handing it off to Milly as she stooped to pick up her own luggage. She was already heading up the stairwell when she paused. Something was not quite right. She turned to look back around, and felt a small knot forming in her stomach.

"Milly, where's Vash?"

"Oh, he went to check out the party right after he got his room."

"He... he what?!?"

Dropping her bags, Meryl charged back across the hall and threw open the saloon's swing doors, obliviously ripping through the "Private Party" sign in the process.

No... I can't believe... no, he wouldn't! He must not have seen, or else he'd realize -

Then again, since when did * not* being intimately acquainted with the members of the party ever stop Vash before?

Sure enough, the gunman was standing just within, apparently in the middle of scoping out the room for a likely seat. Meryl almost ran into him.

"Vash? What are you -"

"Oh, hiya, Meryl!" Vash turned his head to grin down at her, an excited twinkle already gleaming in his eyes. Meryl felt a tremor run down her spine. "Come to join in the fun?"

"Join in the -?" Meryl frowned. Sometimes she couldn't believe audacity of the man. She grabbed hold of his arm. "We can't, Vash. We don't know anyone here! It would be impolite! You can't just barge -"

"C'mon, c'mon Meryl, it'll be okay!" Vash smiled sheepishly, waving his hand at her. "These people are just having a good time. They won't mind. Besides," he added, putting on his best conciliatory smile, "they're probably so drunk by now that they wouldn't even notice!"

"Vash." Meryl groaned.

"I think it sounds great!" Milly seconded, coming up behind them.

"Oh, Milly, not you too..."

"See? Even Milly agrees with me! Look, Meryl," Vash looked at her with hopeful eyes, "We need to eat something as it is, and the inn's dining room will be closed by now, so this is really the only place we can come to, anyway. So. why not make the most of it? Unless of course you wanted to go out somewhere else to find -"

Meryl smacked her forehead. "Oh, all right... just for a little while," she conceded, too tired to argue anymore.

And so, a "little" while and a full meal later (consisting largely of salmon sandwiches and assorted hors d'oeuvres), Vash seemed no more ready to leave than he had when they'd first sat down. If anything, Meryl noted darkly, he looked to just be getting started. But it wasn't until she saw him deftly lift a bottle of wine off a passing partygoer that she decided to finally put her foot down.

"Vash," she began in what she hoped was a cajoling tone, "it's really late. And you've been on the road for days now. Don't you think you should be retiring for the evening?"

"Nope, didn't even cross my mind." Vash worried the cork off the bottle, grinning self-satisfactorily when it finally shot off with a loud pop. He looked up at the two women, "Can you believe how lucky we are to hit this place during their festival? People out everywhere, lots to eat, lots to drink, everybody having a good time." he laughed, pouring himself a full glass. "Hey, who knew?"

Indeed, Meryl thought. She wasn't ready to give up, though.

"Yes, Vash, I'm sure the people here who have worked so hard and paid for all this deserve a good time but I'm not sure how far that goes in our case."

Vash cocked an eyebrow as he swirled his glass, watching her. "You know, Meryl, you would probably enjoy life more if you weren't so uptight."

"Uptight?!?"

"When an opportunity for amusement presents itself, you should take advantage it. It's only natural. So why not let your hair down and enjoy the festivities?" He lifted his glass at her. "And I can guarantee there's plenty more where this came from."

"My idea of fun doesn't involve getting so plastered I can't see straight!" Meryl huffed indignantly.

"No one said anything about getting plastered. I just suggested we join in with the rest of these fine people and have a little drink or two ourselves. No harm in that."

"But a 'drink or two' always ends up becoming four or more with you!"

"So who's counting?" Vash picked up the bottle and sloshed it around. "Well, what do you say? Anyone up for a little round?"

"I'll drink to that!" Milly cried.

"No, you won't," Meryl countered. "Don't you get it?"

Internally, she groaned; all she really wanted was to do her job, preferably with as little painlessness as possible. If people would only act more responsibly, wouldn't that make everything more pleasant? Life would be so much easier. She hated having to always play the heavy. But if she didn't...

"Look, Milly, you know as well as I that the ability to perform one's job is hindered by consuming alcohol. Even if Vash here" - she pointed rudely at the bemused gunman's face - "wants to get sloshed that's his business but you and I have a duty to make sure our job gets done and that means at least one of us stays coherent at all times and I -"

She was about to end and I want to go to sleep! when Vash interrupted her.

"Well, all right then... you drink with me, Meryl."

"What?!?" Meryl looked at Vash in open shock. "Are you serious?"

"I agree." Milly smiled encouragingly at her partner's incredulous face. "I think it would be a nice treat to let Meryl cut back and enjoy herself for once instead of us hogging all the fun."

"Have you even been listening to a word I've said, Milly?"

"Actually, I think she's hit the nail on the head."

The short woman turned to angrily confront Vash, but was stopped by something she saw in his eyes. She furrowed her brow in puzzlement, trying to discern the difference.

"Face it, Meryl. You can argue all you want but it's not really Milly's or my drinking that bothers you."

He was smiling as usual, and a stranger wouldn't note anything odd about the humorous grin on his face, but there was an uncharacteristic pointedness in the gaze that Meryl found disturbing. Then she felt her chest tighten as she suddenly understood the meaning of that look.

You can't hide from me.

Vash's eyes were fairly dancing now, while across the table Meryl felt her heart begin to race. In her mind, she suddenly had a vision, a familiar one that she wasn't particularly thrilled to recall at that moment: Vash, cocksure grin in place, fingers likewise hitched back in gun fashion, drawing a bead on her heart...

"It's the thought of your getting drunk that bugs the heck out of you."

...That disarming smile playing across his features, gee-golly don't-mean-nuthin'-by-it charm gone into overdrive, all while his eyes were telling her quite plainly Cheshire-cat style, I know what you're really thinking...

"You're just afraid of losing control of yourself in front of people."

...and I never miss my target.

"Especially in front of Milly."

Bang!

".and me."

It infuriated her.

"Aren't you?"

She was on her feet before she even knew it.

"VASH THE STAMPEDE!!! On behalf of the Bernadelli Insurance Society, I, Meryl Stryfe, challenge you!"

Not surprisingly, even in the din of the party, all conversation ground to a halt. Scattered murmurs of did that lil' lady just say Vash the Stampede? passed among the assembled crowd as everyone stopped their merriment to turn and watch as a petite young lady stood glaring across a table at a lanky blonde man.

"Oh, my," Milly blinked up at her friend in genuine surprise and concern. "A formal challenge."

Vash was taken aback. It was true, he had been deliberately baiting her, but he hadn't really expected this kind of reaction. He quickly stopped smiling as he realized that he'd pushed her too far. But for Meryl to say something like this? Blinking across the table at her in complete bewilderment, Vash tried to assess if she was joking or not. But he could see it in her eyes: she was dead serious, or at least, seriously angry enough to believe herself so. He knew she would not forgive him if he dared make light of the situation now. But to take her challenge threat seriously? Vash also knew that she was speaking more out of momentary anger than rational thought. if he could just get her to calm down.

That's right. Maybe the best he could do now was to go along with it, and hopefully gently bluff her out of this. Straightening up in his chair, Vash calmly composed himself, putting on his best poker face. He wished he had his glasses on - it was so much more effective that way - and looked her straight in the eyes. "All right. And what's the challenge?" he said evenly.

What the *hell* am I doing? Meryl's mind raced. She could hardly believe it herself, that she'd let her anger get hold of her long enough to take complete leave of her senses and actually challenge Vash - Vash the Stampede - and in front of a crowd of strangers, no less! And while she stood there mentally berating herself for acting like an idiot, there he sat, with that serious-as-death look on his face, acting for all the world as if he really meant to duel with her. What, is he planning on humiliating me now?

"I, uh, I challenge you to, uh..." Meryl couldn't think. And just what the heck am I supposed to beat him at, anyway? It only annoyed her further that she couldn't think of a face-saving way out of this ridiculous situation. "I challenge you to -"

"You challenge me to.?" Vash prompted in his most conciliatory voice. It only aggravated her further.

C'mon, Stryfe, think! Anything!

"Meryl!" Milly gasped.

"To a, uh, to an -"

What the hell were we even talking about before this started?

The whole bar waited.

"I ch-challenge you to..."

"Yessss...?"

Why you - That *does* it!

"I challenge you to a drinking match!!!"

There was an almost reverent hush throughout the bar as Meryl's declaration hung in the air... up until the moment Vash's eyes bugged out. And in spite of himself, he burst out laughing like a hyena. She stared in shock as the blonde man doubled over, holding his sides as he gasped for air.

"A... a DRINKING match? You? 'Sobriety' Stryfe? Against me?" Tears were pouring out of his eyes as he slapped the table. "Oh, that's a great one, Meryl! And here I was afraid you were actually being seri-" Vash looked up to see that Meryl's face had gone beet red. He gulped.

"Y-you mean you... were being serious?" he asked weakly.

Meryl couldn't answer. She felt her eyes stinging and her teeth grind, as she clenched her fists so hard her nails dug into the flesh. Her mouth opened as if to say something to Vash's stunned face, but instead jerked angrily away and yelled over her shoulder.

"Bartender!"

"Yes ma'am?"

"Did you hear all that?"

"Uh... well, everyone did, ma'am."

She felt her face would have colored even more were it possible but she determinedly stiffened her back. "Then what are you waiting for? Twenty whiskey shots - line 'em up! Now!"

"What?!?" Vash yelled.

"Will you settle for the house special?" the bartender asked.

"YOU HEARD ME!" Meryl was fairly screaming now. "This ... person and I are going to have ourselves a little drinking contest! So start pouring!!!"

"The house special it is then," the bartender murmured as he hurriedly began to set out the glasses.

Vash saw that this had now gone completely out of hand. He regretted his mistake, and realized that he had to act fast before it got any worse. Coming up beside Meryl, he grabbed hold of her arm and whispered in her ear: "Come on, Meryl, please. I'm sorry. Let's just forget abou-"

Meryl angrily pulled her wrist free. She coolly regarded the surprised man, and said with more bravado than she actually felt, "What's the matter, Vash? Not afraid of a little challenge, are you?"

"You'll lose," Vash said in a warning tone.

"Oh, you think so? Well, Mr. Vash the Stampede," Meryl countered in her iciest voice, "We'll just have to see about that!" Then turning her back on him, she stomped over to the bar and sat down.

Vash stood looking at Meryl's back, all traces of his earlier joviality gone. He regarded her quietly, growing more than a little annoyed with the recent turn of events. Okay, if you want to be stubborn about this...

"All RIGHTY!" Vash hollered in his most obnoxious showman's voice - the one Wolfwood once told him would scare hell out of a convention of evangelists - "Ladies and gentlemen, we have an amazing opportunity presented before you this evening. If there's a betting man among you, I'm sure you'll see this as a once-in-a-lifetime money-making venture so stupendously risk-free, it would almost be criminal to pass up! In one corner, we have the defender" - he gestured to himself while striking a bodybuilder's pose - "a healthy, handsome, strapping young man in the prime of his life, meeting the challenge of this" - he waved dismissively at Meryl - "puny little specimen of a girl." Sauntering over to the bar, Vash threw himself onto the stool next to his fuming opponent. Wagging his eyebrows roguishly at her, he called out an overly high, sing-song voice, "Anyone willing to place a bet on the outcome of this little game?"

"I'll bet on the blonde!"

"Me too!"

"Count me in!"

As all the bets were being placed, Vash smirked at Meryl, who glowered darkly at him.

"Well, Ms. Stryfe, you still sure about this?"

"Shut up! I'm NOT speaking to you!"

"Promises, promises," he taunted mildly, while jauntily toasting her with one of the shot glasses already set out. Get ready to kiss the floor, Meryl!

"This won't be much of a bet if no one backs the lady," the bartender said.

"I'll bet on Meryl," Milly offered.

"It's your funeral," Vash quipped.

Vash the Stampede, Meryl vowed silently as she reached out for the first shot, I *absolutely* won't lose to you without a fight!

~The Present~

"Oh, yeah... You meant that little bet..." Vash wondered if Milly was buying his bluff. "Well... you know... it was so long ago."

"It was only last night."

"I meant figuratively. So many things can happen in a night!. Er."

Meryl flinched. Vash began to sweat. Milly nodded sagely.

"That's true. But you know, it was sort of all your fault to begin with, Mr. Vash."

"Like I needed to be reminded of that," Vash muttered.

"Well, as they say, all's well that ends well," the cheery woman assured him, then much to both of her companions' discomfort, added with a strangely coy smile, "And it did end up pretty well, didn't it, Mr. Vash?"

The gunman was left speechless. "Can we please talk about something else?" Meryl pleaded.

"All right." Milly still had that thoughtful look on her face. "So what did you guys dream about last night?"

They began to choke.

"You know," Milly observed, "are you guys really sure you're okay? We could always go to see the local doctor."

"No, no, it's nothing," Vash mumbled, and seeing that Milly looked unconvinced, hastily added, "This is just a regular hangover! C'mon, you know me - I get these all the time. I drink like a fish to the point I never know what I'll end up doing."

He stopped himself as he felt an icy chill racing down his spine, sensing rather than seeing the piercing look Meryl was shooting at him. He made a mental note to punch himself in the mouth later that night. if Meryl didn't beat him to it, that is.

Milly giggled, pointing across his shoulder. "I think you're the only one in here who could joke like that, Mr. Vash."

Vash turned and looked around the café, noticing for the first time the pallid faces on many of the other diners, some of whom he vaguely recognized from the party. "Huh. I guess everybody had a little too much fun last night."

"Fun, he says," moaned Meryl, who had sunk her head against the table.



Chapter Three

In spite of Vash's continued attempts to downplay his nausea, two hours later (and six trips to the bathroom between him and Meryl) convinced them all that something more than a regular hangover was at fault. At Milly's insistence they left the inn and were soon walking - or staggering, if you didn't count the tall girl - down the main street on their way to see a doctor. Not that Vash was apt to complain by that point.

They hadn't gone very far when they came upon a large crowd of people gathered in the street. Many of these people looked ill; several were even sitting on the ground. The trio noticed that the crowd continued up the street quite a way.

"I wonder why all these people are standing here?" mussed Milly.

Meryl was astounded. "I thought the festival was over! After last night, I'd have expected everyone to be sleeping in today. Do you think there's something more going on?"

Vash approached a family standing at the back of the crowd. Tapping the gentleman on the shoulder, he put on the most courteous smile that he could manage and hoped the man wouldn't find his grimace demented. "Excuse me, good sir, but could you tell me why are you standing here?"

The man - a short, humorless fellow with a pronounced mustachio and dark bags under his eyes - turned to briefly consider the gunman. "For my health," he deadpanned.

"Ah." Vash laughed weakly, deciding that it would be best to just cut to the chase. "Then could you be so kind as to tell me which way is it to the nearest doctor?"

"Straight up this street, at the edge of town. You can't miss it."

"Thank you." Vash smiled gratefully, as he, Meryl and Milly started to walk on past the crowd.

Suddenly the man's wife, a short, heavyset woman with sharp eyes and deep scowl lines, leaned out to holler at them. "HEY! You three there! No cutting!"

They stopped, turning back to look at the woman in puzzlement. "Cutting?" asked Vash.

The lady gestured at the line of people. "Can't you see there's a queue here?"

"Eh?" Vash glanced briefly at the crowd. He then smiled apologetically. "Oh, I see what you're thinking. We're not trying to cut, ma'am; we're just going to pass on by and go see the doctor."

A little boy, the couple's son, now piped up. "But mister, this IS the line to see the doctor!"

"WHAT?" the trio blurted out. They turned to peer up the street again, where they saw the line stretch into the distance.

"What in the world?" Meryl's jaw fell open as she contemplated the size of the crowd.

"It looks like the whole town is here!" Milly cried.

Vash was dismayed. "We have to wait this long? But it'll take hours."

The woman crossed her arms defiantly. "I've been waiting here myself since dawn."

"Aren't there any more doctors in this town?" Vash looked pleadingly at the couple.

The husband appeared momentarily thoughtful, then shrugged. "Well, if you're really desperate, there's always -"

"Don't talk nonsense, Harold," the angry woman snapped. "Stranger, there is only ONE doctor in Bowe's Flats, and whether you're desperate or not," she looked at Vash pointedly, "you'll have to wait in line with the rest of us."

"Um. okay."

So they settled down to wait.

*****

It was now midday. Long having given up on standing, Milly and Meryl were sitting back to back on the dusty plank walkway, with Vash sprawled out on the ground next to them. Milly had nodded off into a dull torpor, and Vash appeared to have died, but Meryl sat with knees crossed, one fist curled under her chin, quietly fuming. She could swear there had been no detectable movement for the past hour.

Finally she could stand it no more. "I can't believe this. How do people put up with it? We've been sitting here for hours! HOURS! Is this doctor so good that there's only one in a town this size?"

She looked at the people around her and made eye contact with the irate wife from before, who stared back impassively. But Meryl was too annoyed to be intimidated.

"For heaven's sakes, isn't there anyone else with any medical experience at all? Not even a nurse? Or a midwife? Or even a horse doc-"

This seemed to provoke the woman. "There is only ONE -"

"I know, I KNOW!" Meryl looked away disgustedly, and groaned in exasperation. She continued griping in a lowered voice, now more to herself than anyone present. "Good grief, even a boy scout would be something. Talk about irresponsible! All this time wasted waiting just to see the doctor, much less get a cure! And what if there was another emergency in the meantime? What would we do if someone comes in with a gunshot wound? Or if somebody has a heart attack? Or if someone is about to give birth? Or maybe someone -"

As Meryl continued to inventory the possible medical catastrophes that could momentarily befall Bowe's Flats, Vash's eyes snapped open. He sat up with a suddenness that drew Milly's attention.

"Need to make a break for the bathroom again?" she asked him tiredly.

"Something like that." the gunman murmured softly. He slid his sunglasses on with a calm deliberateness, and slowly got to his feet. After brushing himself off, he walked over to stand in front of Meryl, who was obliviously checking off disasters with her free hand.

Feeling herself in an unexpected shadow, Meryl looked up to see Vash towering over her. Lifting her chin up from her palm, she looked questioningly at the gunman. He had a serious, almost severe expression on his face. Reaching down, he suddenly seized her by the wrist.

Taken aback, Meryl felt her cheeks begin to redden slightly. "Eh? Vash?"

Without ceremony, Vash effortlessly pulled her to her feet, to stand before him while he grasped her firmly by the shoulders. He stared into her eyes intently, and Meryl felt her heart begin to beat wildly, conscious of the attention they were drawing from the crowd around them. She wondered briefly if he was angry from all her complaining. She opened her mouth, ready to apologize. Then -

"HONEY!!! I've stood here quietly for the past few hours, watching you suffer out of the goodness of your heart, waiting patiently in the heat and dust along with everyone else for your turn! But now I say enough is enough!" He drew a deep breath, then leaned in dramatically: "These are NO conditions for a PREGNANT WOMAN to have to endure for SO LONG!"

"WHAT???" several people sitting nearby blurted out, the scowling woman foremost among them.

G~yuhhh??? Meryl stood blinking up at Vash, floored so far beyond comprehension as to be rendered insensible. If it weren't for his grip, she was sure she would have hit the ground. As it was, she felt as if she were having an out-of-body experience: voices were jabbering incomprehensibly about her, bodies were in motion, disembodied faces fixating on hers - Vash's particularly so - things were spiraling out of control. She was vaguely aware on some level that she should be saying something to correct this absurd situation, but just couldn't.

Was perversely unable to, while caught up in that intense green-eyed gaze.

"Meryl!" gasped Milly, who was now standing at her side, staring at her friend in open shock. "I had no idea!"

The sharp-eyed wife leaned around Vash to peer skeptically at Meryl, who was still too dumbfounded to speak. "Pregnant? A little chit of a gal like yourself?" She proceeded to give Meryl a once over as if she was appraising a side of beef, and snorted derisively. "Impossible. She has no hips."

This did wonders for snapping Meryl out of her shock. She turned from Vash to stare incredulously at the woman.

"Oh, come now. You know it's not impossible, Mildred," said another lady sitting nearby. "Girls as small as her give birth all the time." The woman, an elegant matron with a long nose, turned to smile warmly at Meryl, who immediately felt a deep sense of gratitude for the lady's timely intervention. "Why, my daughter Rose gave birth just last Harvest festival, and she was always a petite girl. Of course, she had a much more delicate frame than yours, dearie."

Meryl took back every gracious thought she'd had.

"Huh. Well, I was just a slip of a girl myself before I had Jimmy." Mildred conceded, as privately Meryl shuddered. Then she felt a nerve in her head begin to throb when the woman leaned in again to inspect her stomach. "Hmm. Now that you mention it, Blanche, she does look a little thick about the middle."

"HEY!"

But Meryl didn't get the chance to elaborate on her retort as Milly quickly moved into the way. The tall girl caught up the smaller girl's hands, pressing them tightly between her own, and looked imploringly into her partner's eyes. "Meryl, I can't believe this! Why didn't you tell me?"

Meryl was aghast. She was ready to start screaming. At those snoopy women with their rude insinuations, at Vash - especially at Vash - for starting this mess, and now even at Milly, for actually believing such a thing. But one look at the plaintive expression in her friend's shimmering eyes gave Meryl pause for alarm. She tried to make its meaning out: an odd amalgamation of surprise, of concern, of. of.

What is it? Despair? Anger? .Jealousy?

Meryl opened her mouth uselessly, suddenly at a loss for what to say as she felt an inexplicable surge of guilt wash over her. She barely registered Vash hurriedly hugging her around the shoulders, pulling her in close. "Well, Milly, we weren't too sure ourselves until just recently. We've been trying to keep it a secret."

He began to laugh in an overly high, nervous way while Meryl hung her head, sweating. Milly fell silent, glancing between them.

Mildred looked rather put out. "Oh for heaven's sakes, boy, why didn't you say something before? A pregnant woman's health is no laughing matter."

Vash stopped laughing, and glanced penitently around at the crowd. "Then would you all mind terribly if I escorted my.ah. wife up to the doctor's office now?"

Mildred snorted derisively. "Hmph. Get on with you. I'm not insensitive, you know." She shuffled off into the middle of the street, not noticing Meryl narrowing her eyebrows as Vash ran a hand through his hair sheepishly. Raising her hands to her mouth, the stocky woman soon had everyone's attention. "ALL RIGHT, EVERYBODY, LISTEN UP!!! MAKE WAY - PREGNANT LADY COMING THROUGH!!!"

The sea of faces turned around, parting neatly down the middle, and what seemed a thousand pairs of eyes zeroed in on the expectant couple. It was almost too much; Meryl felt her touchy stomach begin to churn threateningly again. As she stood there immobilized, she felt Vash link his arm through hers. Looking up, she felt him lightly squeeze her hand, a half-embarrassed grin upon his face.

"Well, honey, shall we?"

"Vash, I. I. *uuuurk!*"

Little Jimmy leaned around his mother's side. "Ooo. I didn't think she had that much room in her!"

*****

The lone doctor's office of Bowe's Flats was a small, unpretentious building that Meryl strongly suspected doubled for living quarters at night. A plain wooden plaque labeled "T. S. Wilde, MD" hung from the door outside. Inside, the waiting room - which was really no more than a narrow hallway with a bench and a coat rack - was so small that Milly, insisting she was fine, had opted to wait for them outside. So Vash and Meryl were left alone to share the bench in tense silence, Meryl with her head in her hands, Vash fidgeting nervously next to her.

"Aw, c'mon Meryl, it was the fastest way we could get in," Vash finally whispered.

"But why did it have to be that way?" she hissed back.

Just then the door opened. A neat, youthful-looking man with spectacles and a white vest stepped into the room. He looked tired and disheveled, yet he seemed pleasant enough as he silently beckoned the pair within. Meryl guessed him to be in his early thirties.

As they passed into a larger room, Meryl was struck by how unconventional this office was from others of her experience. Pausing just within the doorway, she gaped a few moments as she took in its decor. An oversize desk loaded down with papers commanded the middle of the room, while a threadbare couch stood against the wall opposite. Shelves of books with portraits and plaques hanging in the spaces between lined the walls. Assorted bric-a-brac was scattered throughout. It's more like a private study than an examination room, she mussed as she eyed old lace curtains filtering diffuse light into the room. Then hearing a soft cough, Meryl hurriedly seated herself on the couch.

"Good day. I am Dr. Thomas Wilde." The man smiled pleasantly from his chair behind the desk as he looked first from Meryl to Vash, who had taken up position leaning back against the closed door. "You appear to be visitors to Bowe's Flats. I don't believe I recognize you. Or else I've been cooped up in this office too long."

His gaze settled expectantly on Meryl again, who was distractedly examining a forming hole in the couch's fabric. Realizing she was being addressed, she hastily spoke up. "Nice to meet you, Dr. Wilde. My name is Meryl Stryfe - uh..." Oops, Meryl thought, too late. She had used her own name without thinking. Casting Vash a panicked look, she wondered if she had just ruined their cover story. But the gunman only casually glanced at her before addressing the doctor.

"And my name is Vash, Dr. Wilde." He smiled happily, adding with more heartfelt candor than he realized, "It's really great to meet you!"

"Vash? Unusual name." Dr. Wilde suddenly frowned. "Isn't that the same as that of the infamous outlaw Vash the Stampede?"

"Yeah, I get that all the time!" Vash laughed nervously as Meryl felt her stomach begin to knot. "I have no idea why!"

"Hmm. Well, in any case." He had turned to look at Meryl before twisting back towards Vash again, and finally sighed, rubbing his neck. "I think I'm getting a muscle cramp. Wouldn't you like to take a seat with your wife, Mr. Stryfe?"

Surprised, Vash nearly fell over when his foot lost its hold on the wall. "Er, yeah." Scratching his head, the gunman slunk sheepishly over to take a seat next to a pink-faced Meryl, who attempted to slide over as nonchalantly as possible without falling off the couch.

"Well, that's better. Now, as I was saying -"

Meryl, however, couldn't restrain herself anymore. "Just a moment! Excuse me for asking, Dr. Wilde, but." Her eyes focused on the mountain of papers. "Are you really all alone? Don't you even have a nurse?"

Dr. Wilde appeared momentarily taken aback, but then slowly nodded soberly. "As a matter of fact, I did, at one time. She was more of a partner than a nurse, actually. But she died." He templed his fingers as he leaned forward on the desk, smiling ruefully. "I haven't been able to find a suitable one since."

"Oh! I'm. sorry," murmured Meryl, feeling suddenly foolish. "I didn't mean to pry."

"It's all right. It's perfectly understandable that you should ask. And it was some time ago."

"But then." Meryl looked at him with mixed concern and confusion. "It's just that with all this work; all these people who need your help - aren't you feeling overwhelmed?"

Dr. Wilde chuckled. "I'm afraid you've been given a false impression! It's not always like this in Bowe's Flats - far from it! I'm proud to say that we are actually a very healthy community in normal conditions. I've made sure of that."

Wearing a satisfied smile, Dr. Wilde continued on in a self-assured manner as he got up to pace about the room. "In times past, Bowe's Flats had its share of ailments and outbreaks, much of it due to our own backward thinking and outdated remedies. We're a little isolated from the larger cities; we had to make do with our limited resources for a long time." His face took on a dark expression, "Because of this, many of our citizens have needlessly fallen victim to injury and plague over the years. But now with modern medicine and improved public health care we've overcome that." He stopped pacing, staring off at nothing. "With regular care, people can expect to live out their normal lifespans - not have them cut short because of inadequate medical attention and dangerous, obsolete practices."

Dr. Wilde turned to face them, and Meryl noticed that his faced appeared relaxed again. "Also, a lot of the people I'm treating today are visitors like you, not just residents, come in for the festival. I'm usually kept quite busy, but it's not more than I can handle."

It's still an unusual arrangement, though, Meryl thought. "But even so." she hedged, unable to repress a nagging curiosity, "why haven't there been more doctors attracted to Bowe's Flats besides you?"

"Well, I guess that might be a bit my fault. I suppose it may be because other doctors have found it hard establishing practices here. I have a very loyal client base."

"Wow," said Vash, finally piping up. "I'm impressed. You must be some doctor!"

"Just popular, I guess." He shrugged nonchalantly. "But enough about that. Aren't you here because of your condition?"

Vash immediately perked up. "Yes, yes, of course we are! Dr. Wilde, we've been feeling sick since we woke up this morning and -"

"Ah yes, let me guess - splitting headache, bouts of nausea, interspersed with vomiting and diar- "

"Er, yeah," Vash hurriedly interrupted him. "So you heard about it?"

"It's been going around," Dr. Wilde commented wryly. "Not uncommon after a day of festivities. Especially for those who have indulged perhaps a bit more than their systems could take."

"Um, r-right. So. got anything for it?"

"Yes, of course, but before we get to that - what about your other condition?"

They looked back at him in confusion. "What other condition?"

Dr. Wilde frowned in puzzlement. "I heard a bit of a commotion outside just before you two came in. Something about being pregnant?"

Meryl noticed out the corner of her eye that Vash had immediately turned aside to casually examine one of the assorted medical instruments lying on a nearby shelf. She felt a nerve begin to throb in her head. Again.

Vash, you big, dumb, gutless. IDIOT!!!

"Oh! That! Aha ha, well, it's just that my." - Meryl gritted her teeth - "husband made a mistake and got a little carried away. It's. it's just." she felt her throat suddenly go dry, as her voice dropped to almost a whisper. "It's really too soon to tell."

Meryl heard Vash fumbling with something, then felt a strange object land against her feet. The gunman made an odd strangling sound. She looked down.

A pair of forceps.

She felt the fabric tearing slightly beneath her fingernails.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that. You'd be surprised at how quickly a pregnancy can progress." He gave them both a reassuring smile. "Tell me, when was the last time you.?"

"UH! Well, I. we." Meryl flinched, feeling the blood in her face racing up the thermostat, as next to her Vash appeared to have gone rigid. She could hardly believe she was having this conversation. How could she say, Well Dr. Wilde, to be perfectly honest, up until yesterday I would have said it was utterly impossible, but today I'm not even sure if anything. happened. She stared down at the floor, wishing for a hole to magically open and swallow her up. And take the big mute lump sitting next to her, also.

Dr. Wilde observed the agitated pair with mild astonishment, noticing that both had gone the exact shade of the gunman's coat. He smiled slightly. Newlyweds. Turning away to fondly contemplate a lithograph on his desk, he remarked, "Well, I'm sure you both know the answer to that. What's important is that you're aware of the possibility and are taking precautions to ensure a safe pregnancy."

Meryl was startled when Vash vocalized her next question. "But c'mon, Doc, what's the big deal? Isn't this kind of fuss all a little. premature?" She could tell by the slight tenseness in his voice that the gunman also seemed to be searching for reassurance.

Oddly, that annoyed her even more.

Dr. Wilde began to pace again, clearly warming to his subject. "We have a motto we've been trying to impress upon the public - pregnancy begins before conception. While it may seem a little extreme, it's because people just don't realize just how critical the first few weeks are. It's true that we haven't yet regained all the medical advancements of our ancestors, but we do know a lot about the early stages of fetal development. Even as early as a day."

As Dr. Wilde droned on, Vash clinging to his every word, Meryl found her thoughts drifting off.

Pregnant. It was not something that she was prepared to think about. Pregnant was for. well, for women who knew what they wanted with their life and where they were going. Not for confused girls chasing hopelessly mixed up guys across an eternal wasteland, both of them searching for. for God only knew.

She sighed.

And yet. what would it be like to have a baby?

She could remember holding and comforting countless children on their travels - Vash had a knack for attracting them - and recalling how surprisingly good it made her feel. Wanted. Needed. Maternal. It had astonished her how easily she took to that role. What would it be like having one of her own? What would it be like carrying. Vash's?

She could almost imagine something moving inside. pushing. clamoring for attention. Eh?

Meryl realized in horror that while she was distracted, Vash had moved to kneel on the floor next her, the side of his head pressed firmly against her stomach. He had a look of bewildered wonderment on his face as he listened to Dr. Wilde with rapt attention. "Really? You guys can tell all that so soon?"

Meryl hurriedly knocked Vash away as Dr. Wilde turned back to face them. He fixed them both with a grave expression. "Pregnancies are nothing to take lightly, Mr. and Mrs. Stryfe. The first months are the most critical. And the earlier you know, the better."

He leaned over to open a desk drawer and pulled out a large, green bottle, which he passed to Meryl. She turned the bottle over to read the label: Wilde Thomas Olde Tyme Tea Tonic.

"Wilde.?" she murmured.

"Bottled right here in Bowe's Flats. My own secret cure-all remedy. It will clear up your nausea and revitalize your body. Mind you, that's the last one."

Meryl looked over at Vash, who was eagerly staring at her with huge puppy dog eyes. She could practically hear him mentally screaming at her: Take it, Meryl! Take it and let's get the heck out of here!!!

She smiled gratefully. "Oh, thank you so much, Dr. Wilde! I'll be sure to drink it as soon as I get back to my hotel - "

He frowned. "Oh, no, I'm afraid that won't do. You need to get some medicine in you right away, young lady. Now please, drink up."

"But." she glanced worriedly at Vash, who seemed to be on the verge of a heart attack. "What about our nausea? Don't you have something for that?"

"For that you should be sure to get plenty of rest and fluids. I would also give you some tonic, but as this is the last bottle I have in stock, I insist that you take it, miss." He looked over at Vash, "For the sake of your unborn child's safety. I'm sure you understand."

Meryl sighed and drank it all, carefully avoiding Vash's shock-ridden face.

Dr. Wilde appeared satisfied. "Good, good. Now, if you please - I have other patients to attend to."

"So. cruel." Vash whimpered, as Dr. Thomas quickly ushered the perplexed pair out the door.