July 2, 2004

Hey-o, minna-san! How's everybody doing? I hope summer vacation is going well for everyone. With all the training I've been receiving at work, I'm fast becoming a Jack (or Jackie) of all trades. While that means more money, it's also very tiring. I've been so wiped out I really haven't had much energy (or time) to work on any of my longer works.

Miss Chang Po – Tsk tsk... that's such a shame...

::gives her a look:: Hey, I haven't seen any updates from you either...

Miss Chang Po - Hey! I work, too, ya know! Or as Chichiri would say, 'No da?'

::sighs heavily:: Riiight.... Anyway, if you guys remember, some time back I wrote a Trigun two-parter entitled "Scars". In the author's note (at least I think it was in that one) I mentioned I had been working on another Trigun ficlet that had yet to really get off the ground. Anyway... in case you were wondering this is that fic. Again, it's kinda AU – it takes place after the dreaded episode 23 ("Sin" I believed it was called?... I dunno) and spans up and through "LR". Anyway, as always, I hope you read and enjoy. Reviews are always appreciated. )

LR

by Nataku-chan

Prologue

It had been Milly's idea to go after him. Out of the blue, she had ceased her grieving to emerge from her room looking more determined than I had ever seen her.

"Are you really ready to let him go, Sempai?" she had asked me.

I, to say the least, had been at a loss for words. Or perhaps Milly had just been impervious to my weak logic. Go figure. So what if he was a wanted outlaw who had just gone off in search of his megalomaniacal brother who was responsible for all of his suffering? If you cared about someone, you should let that person know, right?

In face of her reasoning, I could only nod weakly. Even in the face of such desperation, Milly still remained so resilient and headstrong. Far stronger than I myself, I thought woefully.

'Both Milly and Vash-san have just experienced such suffering,' I thought to myself. 'And yet they keep going... I just don't understand...'

It wasn't as if I wasn't also grieving Wildwood's passing, but the two of them seemed still so sure of themselves and the paths they had to take while I remained lost. Why couldn't I react with the obliviousness that they seemed to scrounge up so easily? Was there some sort of secret trick to it? How was it they managed to remain so steadfast? Could I ever find that strength within myself? Would I ever find it?

Wolfwood was dead.

His sarcasm and razor sharp wit that could slip through your defenses, like Milly with her startling perceptions and refreshing honesty, had been one of the few things in this sad world to succeed in wheedling a genuine smile out of Vash.

And now, he was gone.

I just knew it the moment said outlaw entered the room. There had been no tears, none of his hysterics or outlandish displays of emotion. In fact, his face was as neutral as I had ever seen it, his expressive eyes obscured behind his infamous orange sunglasses. While I had already feared the worst –come on, I'm not stupid, I heard the gunfight – the Cross Punisher he bore across his shoulders confirmed everything.

I can't recall ever feeling so powerless. Like someone had punched me in the gut and pushed me into a bottomless crevice, despair wrapped itself around me like a wet blanket. There was nothing I could say, nothing I could do to fix the problem. No manual, method, or procedure that would erase the events that had just occurred.

I could do nothing but watch Milly – dear Milly – shatter like a glass bowl as the realization dawned in her sky blue eyes. It was bad enough I was taking the news pretty badly myself, but the moment I laid eyes on my partner, the weight that had settled itself over my chest doubled. It's a feeling I strive to avoid – one I hate more than anything. There were no words I could say to prevent the girl- woman - from fleeing back to the solitude of her room. It would be another hour before the house would be filled with the sound of her heart wrenching cries.

To tell the truth, I wanted to cry, too, but Meryl Strife just does not cry; it's not within my capacity to do so – it just isn't. I wanted to be angry, but what would that prove when I didn't even know who to be angry with? Anger would not bring Nicholas D. Wolfwood back. It wouldn't bring the light back to Vash's eyes. If there were anything I could do, it would be to find answers. After all, that was in essence my job. Part of Risk Prevention was asking questions and finding out why things happened and making sure they didn't.

But still... could I bring myself to ask the questions necessary to get those answers? And if I did, would I like what I would hear?

It turned out I wouldn't have much of a choice in the matter. After yet another failed attempt at consoling Milly – how had I ever called myself her friend?! – I had stumbled across him in the hall. Still decked out in his red coat and tinted glasses, he had assured me that Milly would be fine in due time.

In due time? Who was he kidding? Wolfwood was dead! How could I be fine? How could he be fine? How would anyone be fine?

I have to admit my emotions had threatened to get the better of me then. Looking back on it I realize how childish I must have seemed. I stormed up to him stomping my feet, pounding listlessly on his broad chest, demanding to know what was going on. Why did trouble follow him so relentlessly? Why did all these bad things continue to happen to him? What could such a gentle man as him have done to warrant such suffering?

At first he had remained silent, allowing me to beat at him as he always does – as he must have relentless others. His expression remained still hidden behind sunglasses I wanted so desperately to snatch off and break. Why did he always have to hide from me? Why could he never just... if he dared laugh and write me off as being bitchy again...

But no, he had merely lowered my fists, and told me – everything. He told me about Project Seeds. He told me about Rem, his surrogate mother, and the beliefs she instilled in him. How she raised him, a now 130-year-old Plant – a being who existed outside of time – to value all life and the right they had to exist. He also told me about Knives. He told me about July, about Augusta - how his own brother was responsible not only for the death of the woman who meant everything to him, but also for the Great Fall that had nearly wiped out all of humanity.

He had explained all of this so calmly, seemingly unaware of the tears threatening to pool in my eyes. How could anyone endure all of that and remain the way he was? Even if it was unnecessary, even if it was unwarranted, unwanted, I wanted so badly to reach out to him – to help him, to, to...

He paused, taking a deep breath before turning away from me. He reached for his bag, slinging it over his shoulder so casually. How could he be so calm? I just didn't understand.

"Now, if you don't mind," Why? Why was he doing this? "I'd like to be alone right now."

He'd walked towards the door so casually, past I, as if I'd just finished asking him the time.

And then he left, just like that.

And just like that, I had let him.

I thought it had been the worse day of I life. Little did I know how soon I would realize how wrong I was.

Author's Notes –

(Sept. 21) Wow... so much for summer. As you can probably tell, I've been sitting on this fic for quite a while. To be completely honest, I felt a little bad writing another fic while I still have so many unfinished. However, rest assured this one will be very brief (I'm working on the last chap as we speak) and I will be getting back to work on my other pieces shortly. In the meantime, read and enjoy!

3 R's of fanfiction, guys... keep 'em at heart.