A/N: Hello, hello. Okay first of all, I'd like to preface this story by saying that it's been some time since I've written fanfiction for any series, but Trigun has always been my favorite. I know there are quite a few folks out there who are pretty intolerant of the whole Vash/Meryl relationship tension thing, but it's something that's fascinated me. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little thing that I've cooked up, and I'd love to read & reply to your reviews if you'd be so kind as to leave them. This was a lot of fun for me to write. – RJF.

"Boy, you're gonna carry that weight – carry that weight, a long time."

-The Beatles

ATLAS

He had carried many burdens in his lifetime. He'd traveled great distances and had been faced with great confrontation more often than anyone should have ever had to, and his body was a testament to that. The scars that covered him head to toe were a patchwork of suffering inflicted upon him mainly of his own volition. His virtues made sure of that. He knew in his heart that it was better to accept the suffering of others on their behalf than to let violence go unchecked. There was no real reason for anyone to experience such pain when he could shield them from it, and so he did. For one hundred and fifty years, he did.

But something had broken.

No burden he'd ever carried had been as heavy as this. No pain he'd experienced had ever been as sharp and searing and unmerciful as this, and no sadness had ever been as deep and encompassing – but he knew exactly why. This time, there had been no one to intervene. There had been no one to stop it. He couldn't even stop it himself, and his mind warred endlessly with his heart to both forget and remember. He didn't want to see it, but when he closed his eyes, he recalled every sickeningly vivid detail. That solitary dull, golden eye staring back at him – taunting him. The girls' panicked screams of fear and desperation. The insurmountable anguish he felt when the sound of hot lead tearing through bone and flesh rang through his ears, and that repulsive smile of satisfaction on the dead man's face. He hated it so much, but his heart would not forgive him.

"No-!"

He woke up in a cold sweat, sitting bolt upright in bed. Balled fists clenched the soft cotton sheets mercilessly, and his chest heaved with every breath. Though his eyes were open now, the images lingered for a few moments and he shook his head to make them go away. Like smoke from a gun barrel, they seemed to waft apart and disappear. That was the second time tonight. Vash slumped forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he exhaled and inhaled slowly, trying to calm his thundering heart. He hated these nightmares. He hated how real they were. He hated having to re-live his grievous mistake over and over again every single time he sought rest.

"Just a dream…"

He had been trying to come to terms with it, but still, the knowledge that he'd ended a man's life hung heavy on his shoulders and his conscience, and no matter how hard he tried to rationalize it, the dreams would not go away. They were a constant reminder of Rem and everything she'd instilled in him as a child, and though he'd ran the incident over and over again in his head, he still couldn't come up with an alternative. He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd shamed her; that he had dishonored her memory.

Vash moved his hands away from his face and ran his fingers through his hair, brushing it away from his eyes. He heaved another sigh as he let his right hand fall into his lap.

This is the hand that killed him.

He scowled at it.

I ended a life. I used my own hand – my own free will to end a life.

He had tried so hard to make peace with himself over it. Legato was a bad man. He was a genuinely evil man. He wasn't even a spider. Spiders didn't kill for pleasure or amusement, and that is exactly what Legato did. Vash continued to stare at his hand angrily.

But if that's true – If Legato deserved it, why do I feel so guilty? Rem… I'm trying so hard…

"Damn it!"

In one swift motion, his right hand balled tightly into a fist and he swung it hard into the wall next to the bed, splintering wood through yellowed paint.

After a few moments of lonely silence, he heard footsteps coming down the hallway. They were quick and soft, and Vash knew exactly who they belonged to.

The bedroom door opened.

"The dream again?"

The voice was gentle and quiet, and very reassuring. Vash relaxed almost instantaneously when it reached his ears. It did bring him some comfort to know that even through all this, Meryl was usually just a bedroom away.

"…Yeah."

The moons lit her silhouette through the tall window, and she slowly made her way over to the bed. Vash didn't bother to look up. He knew she'd do this – she had been doing it almost every night for him for the last week or so. Sometimes on more than one occasion, if the dream refused to leave him alone. Despite the fact that she still had mountains of paperwork and legal documents to sort through thanks to her never-ending job, she still managed to find time and energy to come to him when he needed her most. In a way, she reminded him very much of Rem. Her demeanor wasn't always nearly as temperate, but she had a good heart and that was enough.

Meryl sat on the edge of the bed, facing the blond man. Still, he refused to look up. His right hand had once again made its way to his lap, and he was staring at it defiantly.

"Vash…"

He sighed at her.

"I know that it… It couldn't have been helped. My head knows that, but my heart says I'm wrong."

"It's okay."

"I… I want to believe that."

Meryl's eyebrows knit, and she worried her bottom lip as she looked on at him. This poor man had been through so much. His patchwork canvas of a body was proof enough of that. At times, she found it difficult to comprehend the capacity for forgiveness that Vash must have. He'd allowed humanity to mark him in some of the most ghastly, unforgiveable ways for doing nothing more than trying to preserve life and peace, and still he smiled. Still, he fought against fighting. And above all that, he felt more grief for ending the life of one despicable soul than most outlaws did for killing hundreds.

There was only so much that she could say to him. After all, what good could words possibly do? They couldn't turn back the clock, and they couldn't change the circumstances. It was at times like these that Meryl felt a bit useless.

She let a gentle sigh escape her lips, and she stood up from the bed. Questioningly, Vash looked up at her. He blinked, following her with his eyes. Meryl couldn't help but smile at him. He was so innocent – whether or not he would agree to that was an entirely separate issue, but she saw him that way. Just like a misunderstood child.

"Here, scoot up a little."

He did as she asked. Vash moved himself a bit more towards the foot of the bed, leaving a little room behind him for the Insurance girl to sit down. She situated herself behind the gunman, and gingerly, she placed her hands on his bare shoulders.

The first time she'd done this, she had wondered if the scars still hurt him. She wondered if it would be okay to touch them – If anyone had ever touched them.

Slowly, she spread her fingers and let them run over the landscape of his back. The first time she had done this for him, she had a hard time holding back tears. Nearly every part of him had been marred by something. By someone. She silently wondered in her head what kind of cruel, pitiless people could do these kinds of things to such a sweet, kind-hearted man. She hated them, each and every one of them. If it had been up to her, she would have liked to find the bastards that made the scars, and have them all take a long hard look at the damage they had caused.

She worked her fingertips gently across taut muscle, listening to Vash as he made small sounds of appreciation. If this minor gesture made him feel even the slightest bit better, she would do it happily, as many times as he needed it. He whimpered with submission as her fingers and hands found their way all across his broad shoulders, over his spine and down to the small of his back, minding the dips and valleys the scars caused on the way. When she had reached his hips, she paused, then slowly and with a light-as-air touch, she moved her fingertips back over his spine and his shoulders, causing him to shiver a little.

"There." She managed a smile as she lifted her hands from him. "Did that help at all?"

"…Yeah."

For a while, they both sat in silence, neither of them moving. Meryl wished so desperately that she could do something more for him than just a simple back rub; she wished that she could say or do something that would ease his mind instead of just his body. For once, she wanted him to simply be at peace, but she knew full well how impossibly unobtainable that was for him. Again, she reached out to touch him. Her hand found its way to his back once more, and she spoke.

"You know Vash, I don't…" She paused. There was an uncomfortable knot in her throat, and she felt the tears well up in her eyes. "I don't blame you."

Still, he said nothing.

Meryl turned and brought her other hand up, then slid both of them around to finally rest on Vash's stomach.

"None of it was your fault."

She leaned forward to rest her head on his back and tightened her arms around him, pulling herself closer to him. That was all she wanted right now. She just wanted to be close to him – to let him know that she was there for him; to let him know that she wasn't going anywhere. After a century and a half of torment, ridicule and loneliness, the least she could do was to assure him that she actually cared.

"None of it was ever your fault, you hear me? Don't you dare think otherwise."

Meryl held tight to him, refusing to let go. This was all she could offer. She felt ridiculous and inadequate, but this was the best she could do for him. Suddenly, there was a cool sensation on her hands. At first, she wondered what it could be, but then…

Oh… that machine arm…

Meryl smiled half-heartedly and turned to rest her cheek on the gunman's back. There was something rewarding about having him reciprocate the affection she offered him, even if the gesture was small. She entwined her fingers with the cold cybernetic digits, and wondered to herself silently if he could even feel her hand at all. She supposed that he must, because he squeezed her hand gently in response.

"You're wrong, Meryl."

That was not exactly the answer she had been expecting.

"I'm not wrong, you idiot."

Slowly, she withdrew her arms from his waist and stood up from the bed. How could he even think to say something like that? It was just so like him. Even with all of the utter bullshit he had been put through in his lifetime, that fool would have shouldered the world, if he'd been allowed to. Meryl briefly considered changing his name to Atlas.

The raven-haired insurance girl was facing down the legendary gunman, Vash the Stampede. She had him in her sights and refused to let him go. She refused to let him actualize his guilt.

"I'm not wrong." She insisted, her violet-blue eyes flashing. "You're…"

What was he? That was a good question. She furrowed her brow at him not out of anger, but of concern. This man was many things.

"You're stupid. You're totally irresponsible, you're probably insane, and you're a complete baby, Vash. But…"

She stepped forward and reached out, gentle hands finding themselves on either side of the blond man's face.

Vash looked up at her, his perpetually child-like aquamarine eyes questioning. He felt helpless, and completely guilty. For a moment, he thought he'd actually made her angry, and he was half-expecting a slap to the face. He was pretty sure that being a perpetually apologetic pushover was not the most attractive quality a man could have, but that was just how he was, regardless. He knew he was lucky to have Meryl put up with him for as long as she did.

"…But despite all of that… you are a good man."

His brows knit upwards, and he couldn't respond. A good man? She thought that he was a good man? That couldn't be. It simply wasn't true. He was an outlaw… Man's first localized disaster. He was more like a harbinger of catastrophe than anything else, and he most certainly did not fit the bill for a 'good man.' Vash tried to understand. She had seen it with her own eyes. She had watched him shoot a human being in cold blood. She had witnessed the end of a life at his hands. It was such a contradiction to even attempt to equate the word 'good' with what he was. He was guilty.

"I… don't know how you can say that."

"What's there to know?" With a shrug, her hands fell to her side, and she sat back down on the bed, facing him this time. "You're a genuinely good man." She offered a smile. He did not reciprocate.

"I just wish I hadn't –"

"Listen to me. It doesn't define you."

He paused, a little confused. "What do you mean?"

"Vash, just because you make one mistake –" She hesitated to call Legato's death a mistake, but she knew how Vash felt about it. "It doesn't set the course for the rest of your life. It doesn't mean you're not good."

He didn't respond.

"You know, sometimes… sacrifices have to be made. You sacrificed your conviction… that's a very difficult and noble thing to do, especially for the greater good." Meryl took hold of his mechanical hand. "You've made… a lot of sacrifices."

"I know."

"You can't keep on trying to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders."

He sat there in silence, considering her words. He knew that she was right, and he really was trying, but it was so hard to let go of something he'd clung so tightly to for so long. If it were up to him, he'd be in every place at the same time to stop unnecessary violence from occurring. If it were up to him, he'd gladly take two to the chest if it meant keeping them out of someone else. He wanted the spiders and the butterflies to be able to live in peace. He wanted them to coexist without suffering or death. He wanted it so desperately and so naively that he had convinced himself for the last one hundred and fifty years that it was actually possible, and it frightened him on a level that he couldn't comprehend that just maybe he was wrong.

He tried to swallow the knot that had formed in his throat. He grit his teeth and looked down, wanting to hide his tears from Meryl.

"It… it isn't fair."

Vash helplessly slumped forward into Meryl's arms, and he buried his face in the crook of her neck as the tears came. He brought his arms up around her slight form and clutched desperately to her. Meryl responded without hesitation. She held him and rocked him in her arms, trying desperately to comfort him. He sniffled and coughed and made her nightshirt wet, but it was the least of her concerns. Still, she held him close and ran her fingers through his tousled blond hair, whispering to him that it would be alright.

He was right. It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair that he'd been dealt this hand in life. Genuinely good people should not have to suffer like this, she told herself. It was so incredibly frustrating for her to have to sit back and watch him wander through his existence with such optimism and hope in his heart, only to have the very people he cared so deeply for turn around and offer a cash payout for his head. It was so unfathomably unfair that humanity existed the way it did, with all of its selfish recklessness. It was so unfair that a man like Vash could genuinely have hope for a species that was so fundamentally flawed. She hated that he subjected himself to this kind of abuse time and time again, and she wished there was something she could do to make it easier for him.

Meryl shut her eyes tightly, trying to prevent her own tears from coming, but it was no use.

"Please don't cry," She pleaded quietly.

It couldn't be helped though, and she didn't expect him to stop at that moment. Meryl held tight to him, and for the next few minutes, she just let him cry. On most nights, she'd had more luck with calming him down, but tonight was exceptionally bad. He'd walled it up for so long that he just couldn't hold it in anymore, so it had to come out this way. Slowly, the tears began to subside, and all that was left was a trembling, sniffling mess of a man. Still, he held on to her and refused to move away. He was so incredibly thankful that Meryl let him show this side of himself to her. Over the years, he'd gotten so tired of crying alone, and even though he knew that it would probably never stop, it was good to have someone to support him for the time being.

Gently, Meryl took him by the shoulders once more and gingerly pushed him away, just enough so that she could look at him. He hung his head in embarrassment, not willing to look up at her.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for, Vash." There was so much warmth in her voice.

She hooked a finger under his chin and lifted his head so she could look him in the eye. He was a pitiful sight. His cheeks had gone rosy and his nose was running, and he had the most doleful expression on his face. For just a moment, deep marine met violet blue, but he quickly looked away. There was so much guilt etched into his expression that it practically resonated from him; even his aura felt heavy.

Meryl brought her hand to his cheek and softly turned his head so that he had to face her.

"Don't look away."

Her eyes were smiling. She was smiling.

He obeyed. Reluctantly, he obeyed and allowed Meryl to survey him. He swallowed nervously again and waited for something, anything to happen. He wanted to get up and leave so badly, but something held him firmly in place. Something he couldn't explain. Almost reflexively, he leaned into the Insurance girl's touch as she brushed a thumb over his cheek.

"Please don't cry," She begged again. "Please. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You're not bad."

How can she say that? He wondered. How can she honestly think that way about me?

"What makes you so sure, Meryl?" The question was desperate, almost forceful. He furrowed his brow and sniffed again, looking at her with pleading eyes.

Oh, what a question.

There were so many ways to answer it. There was a laundry list of things he'd done – good things. There were so many sacrifices; so many things he had put up with. He had a strong heart. He had a pureness about him that she'd never seen in any other man. The list could have gone on, but it boiled down to one fact entirely, and it was something she'd been sure of for a while, now. She was more than hesitant to let him know, but she was certain of it. Meryl had thought she'd felt it in the past, but it could never have even possibly come close to what she was feeling right here, right now. She had been so afraid of letting herself come to this conclusion because of all the implications and risks, but she knew that caution had been thrown far into the wind a long, long time ago. It was time to just show him, because words couldn't possibly answer his questions now.

The gesture was quick and it didn't last very long, but it was sincere, and Vash certainly had not expected it. It took him a moment to register the fact that she was actually kissing him.

It had been a long time coming. There'd been opportunities in the past, but when fate opened its arms and beckoned this time, Meryl couldn't ignore it any longer. It would have been cruel to do so. She reveled in the moment, pleased that so far, he hadn't pushed her away. The kiss was nothing like what she imagined it would be, but she relished every second of it.

His lips weren't soft – they were slightly chapped from the wind and weather, and she was surprised to find that he wasn't exactly the most graceful or talented kisser. It came to her as a bit of a surprise. Barring his good nature, he had a bit of a lecherous streak in him, and Meryl hand wholeheartedly expected at least a little bit of skill. She didn't mind it, though. It was endearing in a way, and she certainly enjoyed it.

Meryl brought her hand up to the back of his head and twisted her fingers in the soft blonde locks, thankful that for once his hair wasn't defying gravity. She inhaled his scent deeply, her head filling with the familiar traces of spearmint and gunpowder, and she practically melted against him.

When they parted, both were left silent and breathless, both a little stunned and unsure of what to say.

Vash sat there in complete awe, looking for all the world like a lost deer trapped in the headlights. Where had that come from, he wondered? Not that he was complaining of course, but it had caught him completely off guard.

"You want to know why I'm so sure that you're not bad, Vash?" Meryl's eyes were cast downward, but a gentle smile was still lingering on her lips.

"It's because I would never fall for a bad man."

She looked up slowly, and met a very stunned, blushing gunman.

Vash wasn't entirely sure of what to say, and even if the words had come to him, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to say them. Had she just told him that she loved him? Was he even worthy of that emotion? He simply couldn't speak or respond at all, and his mind was nearly blank. He brought his right hand up slowly, fingertips just barely touching his lips. Had that really just happened? He was so thrown off-guard, that it was all he could think about. The previous thoughts of his self-proclaimed bad deeds had all but left his mind. Meryl didn't know it, but for the time being, that one little kiss had succeeded in banishing his inner demons. Even if it wasn't permanent, it certainly helped a great deal.

Meryl sat across from him, and cast her eyes downward once more.

Damn it. I shouldn't have said that. She didn't regret the kiss, but she wished desperately that she hadn't said anything about falling for him.

It had been something she'd tried to hide from herself for a while and having it come out so suddenly – and especially in this situation – she mentally cursed herself for not waiting for better timing. Now what was she supposed to do? What if Vash were to reject her? These late-night comfort sessions would have to end, at least from her point of view. It would be terribly awkward and pushy of her to continue coming to the aid of a man who didn't reciprocate her feelings. Her tiny hands balled into fists and she furrowed her brow, still refusing to look up.

Damn it, damn it, damn it… Meryl, since when did you get all sentimental?

It didn't take long for her to break out of her self-induced mental turmoil.

When she felt a weight on her shoulder, she looked up, only to find the scruffy-looking blonde smiling at her. His right hand was warm against her shoulder, and he gave her a soft squeeze.

That smile of his was really something else. It was hard to describe what Vash looked like when he smiled genuinely. It didn't happen often, but when it did – it absolutely lit the room. She had never seen emotion more sincerely written on anyone's face ever before. This was a man who truly wore his feelings on his sleeve, and that sincerity of his only fueled her love for him even more.

"Meryl…"

Vash leaned forward and slid both his hands up over the small Insurance girl's arms, over the sides of her neck, finally settling on the sides of her face. When his lips touched hers, everything else in the world seemed to melt away. He took her into a warm embrace and pulled her closer, letting his left arm fall and hook around her petite waist. She didn't resist – This was better than anything she could have ever asked for.

Instinctively, her arms went up over his shoulders and around his neck, and she gave in to him completely. Within moments, she was nestled comfortably in his lap.

This was all she ever wanted for him.

This honesty, this catharsis of love was all that she wanted for Vash. She empathized with him so much, but found it hard to express any of it directly. Meryl knew damn well what it was to get involved with a man like Vash, and her cautionary personality had warred constantly with her desire to help alleviate some of his pain. He carried such a heavy burden. It was obvious in everything he did from the way he walked to the way he talked, and the fact that he tried so desperately to hide it hurt her even more.

No more hiding.

He didn't have to shoulder all of the pain and suffering on his own, anymore. She could be there for him now, and no matter how much hit hurt – no matter how much pain it caused her to know that the entire world hated and wanted to destroy the man she loved; she would be there by his side. Nothing could ever change that.

When the kiss broke, she didn't push herself away. She held on tight to him, keeping her arms securely around his shoulders, her face nestled in the crook of his neck. She kissed the scarred flesh there, and spoke softly.

"You don't have to do this alone anymore, Vash." It was a promise. He never had to be alone again.

His hold on her waist tightened. He had to fight back the tears, again.

"…Thank you."