Author's Note: Greetings, readers! This is my first Trigun fanfic, and I've been working on it for a few months. It takes place after the manga ends (yes, it's one of those fanfictions), and I hope it serves as a decent narrative to tie up any loose ends that Nightow left us. If I miss anything, or get any of the canon wrong, please tell me! I am open to critiques and any help with canon. I will try to post a chapter a week, but we'll see how that goes. The disclaimer is located in my profile. Thanks for reading! Enjoy!

The End

a Trigun fanfiction

PART ONE: EMERGENCE

I. END.

DECEMBER CITY. AF0154-04-13. 19:42 PM.

The bar was moderately busy, which was expected for a Wednesday night, but Jondo Brendon had been hoping for a larger crowd. He was bored as hell, as was usually the case when Wednesday night rolled around. Mondays were never busy, Tuesdays worse, and by Wednesday, Jondo thought he might go crazy from the lack of business. Jondo preferred crowds; they made things interesting. Jondo even looked forward to bar fights, because, even though they usually destroyed his bar, they were at least entertaining. Jondo liked to listen carefully to the talk in the bar, waiting to hear some belligerent ass hole that might start something he could intervene in. The damage wasn't really a problem; the new insurance company that had been set up in Bernardelli's wake was much more efficient about settling claims. Bernardelli had spent so much time and resources on covering a certain famous outlaw's tracks that anything not involved with the outlaw was difficult to resolve.

After the events two and a half years ago, however, the outlaw hadn't been a problem. He had been involved in some huge catastrophe involving several cities, flying ships, the Earth Federation (which had come in and taken over the administration of Gunsmoke immediately after the flying ships' arrival), and a mysterious entity called Millions Knives. Jondo thought the name itself was quite menacing, and it always gave him shivers. But no more shivers than the outlaw himself, who was rumored to have put the visible crater in the Fifth Moon and to have destroyed the first cities July, Augusta, and some small towns.

Vash the Stampede.

The Stampede had many other titles, mostly from Bernardelli announcements, but others were from folk gossip. He was called the Humanoid Typhoon, the First Localized Human Disaster, humanity's First Act of God, and, one of Jondo's favorites, Diablo. The devil himself. If Jondo ever met a man like that, he was sure to have some great story to tell afterwards. If he lived through the meeting.

The rumors about the Stampede were numerous and contradictory, so it was difficult to figure out what might be true. Sometimes people said that the Humanoid Typhoon killed everyone in July, others said there were no traces of the people left (like they had all walked away before the city was destroyed, or like there was nothing left to find), and yet others said that all of the people survived, but in the aftermath of the city's destruction, they ended up destroying themselves in the chaos.

It was always rather confusing.

Everything about Vash the Stampede was confusing. Even his appearance. Despite the fact that the outlaw's face was plastered on bulletin boards in every city and town, along with a description provided by government officials who had seen him, there was still speculation about what he really looked like. On the wanted posters, he was described as a tall blond man, around six feet tall, wearing a red coat, but the wanted posters had been outdated for two and a half years. No-Man's Land Broadcasting had caught the outlaw on camera six months after the incident at the city of Octovern. He hadn't had blond hair; it was black.

So the wanted posters were basically useless. They didn't even list a real age: Approximately 24 years of age. But it also said: At large, since the destruction of July, Year 104. So how could it be possible that the outlaw was still "Approximately 24 years of age"?

Then again, more rumors claimed that he wasn't human, so an ageless being might be entirely possible, and if he wasn't human, then that would explain how he was capable of enough destructive power to put a crater in the Fifth Moon.

Whatever he actually was, though, Jondo couldn't begin to fathom.

Looking around his bar and sighing, Jondo half-wished that the Humanoid Typhoon would walk into his bar, just to rile up some excitement around the joint. And looking that $$200,000,000,000 in the face wouldn't be too terrible either, though Jondo knew that a man with that size of a bounty on his head was definitely a lot of trouble. He shivered. All right, maybe I wouldn't wish that on my poor bar…

He went back to cleaning glasses – he was one of the few bartenders in the area who bothered, mostly because he couldn't stand boredom – and he was just about finished when the double doors of the saloon swung open. Jondo barely had time to react before the man that had burst in nearly ran up to the bar and sat down heavily on one of the bar stools.

"Whiskey, please," the man said, breathless, as though he had been running.

"Comin' right up," said Jondo, turning to get a clean glass that he hadn't used yet that night. He hated reusing recently cleaned glasses; what was the point of cleaning them if they were just going to get dirty seconds later? Still, he enjoyed the cleanliness of his workspace. He poured the man some whiskey and slid it over the bar. The man chugged it quickly and slammed the glass back down with a heavy sigh. He took a deep breath, and when he let it out, he let his head fall forward, his shoulders up to his ears.

"'Nother one, please," he said.

"Rough day?" asked Jondo, refilling the glass. He left the bottle nearby, just in case.

The man chuckled softly and then looked up and gave Jondo a half-smile with his eyes squinted.

"How could you tell?" he asked with another chuckle.

"Wanna talk about it?" asked Jondo, dying for some talk. No one had come up to the bar in a few minutes, since most of the men in the bar were sitting at the tables, playing cards and drinking from huge tankards. It was loud enough in the saloon that Jondo and the man at the bar could hold a conversation without being overheard.

"Not really," the man said, taking a large gulp of whiskey that would have made Jondo's eyes cross. The man had already drank a pint and a half of whiskey – Jondo could certainly hold his liquor, but this man was going to be gone rather quickly at this rate.

"Slow down," he advised. "You'll drink yourself into oblivion at this rate."

The man finished the pint, setting it down gently this time. "That's the idea," he muttered, rubbing his thumb along the rim. He sighed and put his forehead down on the bar.

"Hey, buddy, just so you know, I don't over-serve here," Jondo said. "If you're planning to get drunk and belligerent, I suggest you take it elsewhere."

"No, no, don't worry," the man said into the bar. "I just needed a drink." He laughed, but Jondo couldn't see what was funny. The man seemed rather depressed to him, and Jondo knew that depression and drinking were not a good mix. He wanted to take care of his customers, not let them kill themselves with alcohol poisoning.

"Hey, tell me something," the man said suddenly, lifting his head slightly. "Is there a NMLB station around here?"

"No, not around this part of the city," Jondo said, and the man looked relieved, but his face fell when Jondo continued, "but there's one in the western district."

The man groaned and then sat up straight and pushed his glass across the bar. "Another please," he requested.

"I'm gonna need to see that you can pay first," Jondo said, suddenly wondering if this man could pay. He was wearing a rather tattered coat that had probably been red at one point, but it was covered in so many dark stains and torn in so many places that Jondo wouldn't have been able to name its true color – or even its original shape.

The man nodded and reached into a pocket hiding somewhere in the depths of the coat. When he did so, he pushed part of the coat aside and Jondo could see that the man was packing some pretty heavy equipment. There was a large silver revolver settled into an old holster on the man's right side. The gun disappeared from sight when the man repositioned the coat and rifled through an old leather wallet, producing $$16, enough to cover his tab so far.

Jondo took the money, putting it in the cash register, and eyed the man's right hip warily as he poured the whiskey.

"I haven't seen you around here before," Jondo said carefully. "You here for business or pleasure?"

"Neither, really. Just passing through."

"Uh-huh," said Jondo, skeptical. He turned away and went to work arranging the glasses behind the bar in a straight line. When he turned back around, the strange man was looking around the bar, absently itching his right forearm.

"Something wrong with your arm?" asked Jondo.

The man turned around quickly and glanced at his own left arm. "H-huh? No," he said quickly.

"You sure? Looks like you were itching it," Jondo said, indicating the right arm. He couldn't fathom why the man had worried about his left arm when it was obvious that the right was bothering him. Jondo couldn't tell what was wrong; the man wore black gloves that disappeared into the depths of his long sleeves.

"Oh, right," the man said hastily, "it's nothing." He took another swig of whiskey, but Jondo noted that it was much smaller than the previous gulps. "Just an old wound," he said, breathing out heavily. He tilted his glass back and forth with one hand. "Thought this might help dull the pain a little."

"What kind of wound?" asked Jondo.

"Hey, barman, get us another round over here!" one of the men at the tables shouted across the bar. Jondo wanted to throw the whiskey bottle he had in his hand at them. He was in the middle of a very interesting conversation, with a quite possibly dangerous man. The size of his gun indicated as much.

"Comin' right up," he shouted back instead. He filled a pitcher with the dark beer the men at the table had ordered and walked over, hoping that the strange man wouldn't go anywhere while his back was turned. He had the feeling that the man was very capable of disappearing suddenly, though he couldn't explain what gave him this feeling. The man had a strange quality about him, and it scared Jondo, but he was too eager for something to happen to heed the warning signs.

When he came back around the bar, the man hadn't moved, but he was itching his right arm again, this time a little more consciously.

"Must really be bothering you," Jondo pointed out, and the man stopped. "You should get it looked at. Itchiness usually indicates an infection."

"You a doctor?" asked the man with a toothy smile. The grin was somehow familiar, and Jondo felt a wave of déjà vu.

"No, but my ex-wife was a nurse," said Jondo, beginning to clean out the used pitcher of beer in the sink behind the bar. He wasn't really paying attention to the task, though; instead, he was watching the man carefully. He squinted at him. The grin had looked very familiar, but he couldn't place it.

"Say, have we met before?" he asked.

The man's grin stayed in place, but his face lost a little bit of color. "Eh? No, I don't think so."

"Hmm…" Jondo thought for a moment, his hands absently moving the dishrag round and round the pitcher. The man shifted under his gaze and Jondo looked away. "Just thought I'd seen you somewhere before."

"I get that a lot," the man said, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand. "I've just got one of those faces, I suppose. Hey, could you tell me where the church is in this city?" he asked suddenly, a strange change of subject in Jondo's opinion.

"The church? You a church-going man?"

"Aren't you?" said the man, indicating a crucifix hanging behind Jondo.

Jondo shrugged, only briefly registering that the man hadn't answered his question. "Yes. I just asked because…" He trailed off and eyed the man's right hip again. The man must have realized it, because his hand went involuntarily to his right side.

"Heh. Oh, well, this is just…" He didn't seem to know what to say.

"Just as long as you don't start any trouble," Jondo said.

"I never do."

Jondo thought that was a strange thing to say, but before he could ask, the man repeated his question.

"Oh, right," Jondo said. He pointed to the door and then to the right. "It's about four blocks down that way. That's the closest one, anyway, there are more all around the city."

"I'm specifically looking for one connected to an orphanage."

Jondo thought for a moment. "An orphanage? Haven't had one in this city in a year or so." The man looked disappointed. "Why are you looking for an orphanage? Got a long-lost son?" He chuckled. The man looked too young to have a son, but Jondo supposed one never could know.

The man grinned. "Nah, just a long-lost friend. Thought he might be around."

"Well, sorry I can't help you," Jondo said, sincerely sorry, because the man had looked so disappointed. "But," he added, "I heard there was an orphanage in a small town about three hundred iles to the south of here. The town's called Eagle Rock. Maybe you'll find what you're looking for there."

The man brightened and his smile widened. Jondo thought for the first time that the man was completely harmless, and he couldn't figure out why he had thought otherwise in the first place. Besides the huge gun.

"Thanks," said the man, "that really helps." He stood up, placing a wad of bills on the bar. "Well, take care."

Jondo glanced at the wad of bills and watched the man turn away and begin to walk toward the door.

"Wait." The man turned around and Jondo looked at him, still feeling like he'd seen him somewhere before. "Never got your name, buddy," Jondo continued.

The man looked over his shoulder and smiled a sort of distant smile.

"Between you and me," he said, his voice sounding far away, as though he was speaking from a long time ago, "my name is irrelevant."

The last Jondo saw of the man was his red coat flapping as the double doors swung shut behind him, his black hair bleeding into the night.

5 ILES FROM EAGLE ROCK. AF0154-04-18. 3:47 PM.

Livio hadn't looked for him for long. After two months of listening for rumors and receiving no new information for his trouble, Livio decided that he would have wanted him to take care of his own business. Nicholas would have wanted the same thing.

Still, his ears always perked up whenever he heard mention in town of Vash the Stampede.

The battle two and a half years ago had ended abruptly when Millions Knives and Vash the Stampede had disappeared in a flurry of feathers. No one had really understood what had happened, but a search for the two of them commenced immediately, and bounties were placed on their heads. Livio had been there, and even he wasn't quite sure what had gone down that night.

Truth be told, he didn't think about it very much anymore. He didn't really see the point, and it wasn't his business anymore. He had made sure of that by killing the Crimsonnail, the Last of the Gung-Ho Guns that might try to track him down and make him pay for betraying Millions Knives. After that, he was done. He had decided not to worry about Vash the Stampede anymore. If the man was dead, then there was nothing Livio could do. If he was alive, Livio didn't know, and therefore still could do nothing.

And he had made a promise anyway. He wasn't going to obsess over the past and let it take over. He had things to do.

At the moment, "things to do" meant laundry. The piles of clothes and linen had gotten quite high in his neglect of it. Earlier that morning, several of the boys had woken up to discover that they didn't have any clean underwear left. That was the last straw.

Melanie and Kari volunteered to watch the kids while Livio did the laundry. Livio suspected that they were so quick to push the task on him because they were tired of doing household chores. Most of the time it was Livio who watched the kids, though Melanie did most of the teaching and Kari watched over the younger children. Taking care of the orphanage was a lot of work to split between the three of them, especially with a little under forty children under the age of sixteen to mind, but they managed, especially with the help of some of the older children.

One of the oldest children, Julio, had just "graduated" (as they liked to call it) from the orphanage the week before. He had moved into town to get a maintenance job at the radio station. He was seventeen and he had been with the orphanage since he was two years old, so every weekend he visited the place, driving the five miles from town to help out.

The orphanage was situated a little ways outside of town in order to make sure the kids didn't get into too much trouble. A town was full of distractions and places where kids could get lost, so they had built the orphanage far enough away that the kids couldn't sneak over but close enough that they could still reach the town in minutes if they needed to.

Over the past year, though, the town had been crawling toward the orphanage, because the spot they had chosen for the children's sanctuary just so happened to be right above a water vein. Livio had figured that this would happen. Melanie, who had been with the orphanage since he and Nicholas had been boys, said that she knew it would happen the moment they struck the water fifteen years ago.

When Livio had returned to the orphanage, Melanie hadn't recognized him. She had barely recognized Nicholas, too. They hadn't been teenage boys so long ago, really, thanks to the modifications to their bodies and the regeneration tonic the Eye of Michael provided for them. Unfortunately, these things made their bodies grow and age faster, so Livio looked much older than he actually was. Nicholas had looked to be in his late twenties when he had died, but he had only been nineteen years old. Livio himself was beginning to push looking thirty, though he had only been only seventeen years old when he arrived to help the orphanage. Sometimes he thought it was pretty ironic that Vash the Stampede and Nicholas were such good friends; Vash never aged, or else aged incredibly slowly, and Nicholas would age more quickly than his body could keep up. If he had lived, he would have died in ten years anyway. Livio wasn't much more hopeful about his own circumstances. He had stopped taking the tonic, but that didn't mean the modifications hadn't already taken their toll.

For Livio, ten years didn't seem like such a long time. It seemed too short for him.

He was halfway through the laundry when he gave up, his hands raw from rubbing and his back aching from bending over for so long. He went outside, putting a hand up to shade his eyes from the two suns blazing in the sky. The air was dry and hot; it was always dry and hot in the desert, which was all there was surrounding the orphanage. Desert. Desert, desert, everywhere, and not a drop to drink. Or something like that.

He followed the sounds of gleeful shrieks around the building to the field where the children were playing kickball. Livio had set up a fence with some of the older boys so they could play games like kickball and baseball in their free time. It seemed to hold up pretty well, despite being made of old wood and half-rusted metal.

There was a bench set up near the edge of the field, and Livio sat down to watch the game. Kari, a thirty-two year old woman who had begun to help Melanie seven years ago, had joined in the game, but Melanie was nowhere to be seen. He looked around for her, but she must have gone inside. Sure enough, a few minutes later she came out with a tray of glasses and a pitcher of lemonade. Some of the kids who weren't in play ran over to get something to drink. Melanie waved to Livio, inviting him over to get a drink, but he just waved back a refusal and watched the children swarm around her.

Nicholas… Look how far we've come…

He was smiling softly when he heard the rustle of cloth next to him. He turned his head slowly and jumped up from the bench, away from the man who had sat down next to him so silently that Livio hadn't heard him.

"Sorry for the surprise visit," the man said. "But don't worry, I won't stay long."

"H-how did you get here?" Livio choked out.

The man grinned. "Walking mostly," he said. "How have you been Livio? How are things around here?" He looked out across the field, a gentle smile on his face. Livio looked over toward the field too. The game had resumed. Leo, one of the younger boys, was at the base. Livio hoped that Jordan would roll the ball gently; Leo was prone to getting hurt.

"It's been good," he said, at last. "Really good. I think this is what I'm supposed to do." He paused. "Where have you been, Vash?" he blurted, suddenly aware of how truly obsessed he had been with the question for the last two and half years.

Vash finally turned to look at Livio, a weary smile on his face, and Livio saw for the first time how black the Humanoid Typhoon's hair had gotten. There was only a slip of blond left sticking out from Vash's right temple. He reached out involuntarily to point, or to touch, he didn't know, but Vash stopped him, putting his hand on Livio's and pushing it back down.

"Yeah, I guess a lot has happened since we talked last," Vash said, grinning nervously. "But that's not what I'm here to talk to you about."

"You haven't answered my question," Livio said.

"Right." Vash rubbed the back of his neck, a familiar gesture that made Livio feel a little more comfortable. This was Vash. After all these years, Vash finally came back.

"Just around," Vash said. "I was hiding out for a while with this family about one hundred iles from Octovern. I left there about two years ago, though."

"I heard about that," said Livio, remembering the rumors of a Vash the Stampede sighting. He hadn't believed it, even though the people in town claimed they had seen him on the No-Man's Land Broadcasting Station. "So it was you?"

Vash chuckled uneasily. "Yeah, it was." He sighed and leaned forward, looking put out. "And now everyone knows I'm still alive and they're after the bounty again." He groaned loudly and grabbed his head. "Augh! Why does this always happen to me?"

"You're the one that came out of hiding," Livio pointed out.

"I had to. They were threatening the family that helped me." He thought for a moment. "They're still helping me, in a way," he continued quietly.

Something occurred to Livio, something that should have been in the forefront of their conversation. "Where is Knives?" he demanded.

Vash's head snapped around, and he looked up in shock at Livio's tone. Then his eyes grew sad, and he looked at the ground. "He's gone," he said simply.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Now can I ask you something?" he said, changing the subject.

Livio crossed his arms. "What?"

"Don't get so defensive," said Vash, waving his hands and smiling. "It's just a question, I'm not asking for too much."

"It depends on what the question is."

Vash sighed. "You always were too serious," he mumbled. Then he straightened up and looked serious, which Livio thought was pretty hypocritical of him. "It's about the Eye of Michael."

"Wouldn't be able to tell you a thing," Livio spat, turning away. Now that he thought about it, he was thirsty, and he certainly didn't want to talk to Vash anymore. He felt like the old days were coming back to haunt him. He didn't want to think about the Eye anymore. He didn't want that sort of trouble around him, and if Vash had come to him to involve him in some scheme about the Eye, then he wanted nothing to do with Vash anymore either.

He felt a stab of guilt in his gut for thinking this – it was Vash, for crying out loud, he was a friend – but for some reason, Livio felt a little betrayed. He was supposed to be living a simple, calm life now, and then Vash appears and turns his world upside down. He felt like Vash was doing it on purpose. He had spent a long time deciding not to worry about Vash anymore, and he would have liked it if Vash's fate had stayed a mystery. Seeing him reminded Livio of the old days, and he didn't want to have that desire to fight anymore. He wanted to curse aloud; leave it to this man to make Livio want to wander again. He supposed it was the fight in his blood, but he didn't want that life anymore. He wanted to stay here, to take care of the kids, for Nicholas. He had made a promise.

"Livio, wait." He heard Vash stand up, and the moment he felt Vash's hand touch his arm, he jerked it away. Vash stopped and Livio could sense the disappointment rolling off the outlaw in waves.

"Livio, I'm sorry. Never mind, okay?"

"Vash, what did you come here for?" demanded Livio.

Vash looked surprised, his eyes wide. He blinked and then his shoulders fell. "I'm sorry, Livio," he said, and Livio knew it was sincere. He felt his own shoulders relax and his hands unclenched from fists he didn't know he had been making.

Livio turned back to the field. Leo had made it to the third base, with Tanya's help. She was always helping. She reminded him of Jasmine.

"Well, I'll go now," said Vash, standing up. "I won't bother you anymore."

Livio didn't look back. He watched Leo begin to run for home, but then the boy fell down. Without thinking, Livio ran forward, realizing that he had left Vash behind and that he might never see the man again, but it was too late. He was halfway across the field. He had made his choice.

Tanya was cradling Leo in her arms when Livio reached them in a few short seconds.

"Hey, hey, Leo," Livio said gently. "You're okay." He reached over and Tanya loosened her hold to let Livio see. Leo had heavy scratches on both of his knees from the fall. His hands were scraped, but not too bad. Still, Livio imagined they stung. He reached down and picked up Leo. The boy slung his arms around Livio's neck, bawling.

"Shh, it's okay. We'll get you cleaned right up." Livio looked around for Melanie, but she was already running over with the first aid kit. He took Leo over to one of the benches near the fence and set him down, careful to avoid touching his wounds. Melanie arrived with the kit, and Livio took out a square of clean cloth and poured some of the antiseptic on it.

"This is going to sting, but it'll help you get better," he told Leo. Leo sniffed and nodded. Melanie took Leo's hands and began to clean them with another cloth, while Livio started on the boy's knees. Leo whimpered, but when they had slapped some bandages over him, he seemed calmer.

The other children went back to playing the game, but Leo stayed sitting on Livio's lap, hugging his neck and watching the game quietly.

"Who was that man you were talking to?" asked Melanie.

"An old acquaintance," he said, dismissively.

"Hey, that hurts."

Livio nearly jumped. He kept his grip on Leo and swiveled around to find Vash standing behind them, looking insulted with his hands on his hips.

"You!" Livio nearly shouted. "I thought you left."

"I still have some business to attend to."

"What's that?" Livio muttered through his teeth.

"I wanted to see him," said Vash, with emphasis on the him so that Livio would know who he was talking about.

Livio nodded, turning back around. He felt Vash's hand land on his shoulder, but he didn't flinch away this time.

"Wolfwood would be proud of you," said Vash quietly. "You're doing a great thing for these kids."

Livio nodded again. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Melanie looked confused. He turned to her, sighing.

"Melanie, this is Vash," he said. "Vash, Melanie."

"Nice to meet you," said Vash, grinning and holding out his hand. Melanie took it numbly.

"I think we've met before," she said. "Or else, I've seen you somewhere before."

Vash laughed nervously, and Livio realized why. They had met before, and at the time, Vash's arm had been half-transformed, covered in white feathers. "We may have met, but I don't think we were properly introduced." He straightened up. "Right, well, I'll be going then."

"Stay a night," Livio grunted. He heard Vash turn back around on his heels, but Livio didn't look back.

"Are you sure?" Vash sounded uncertain, but Livio felt fiercely sure.

"Yes. Stay, and you'll be able to give him a proper reunion."

Vash was silent for a moment. "All right," he said.

He snuck out at night, trying to make as little noise as possible, which was difficult in such an old house. All the floorboards creaked, and the door hinges desperately needed oiling. It was rather frustrating. After six months of evading society in a quiet household, he really preferred that quiet life. Though he had always supposed it would never last long.

Vash was never very good at being quiet.

He headed out toward the edge of the orphanage property, where Livio had said the man was resting. Symbolically only, since it hadn't been possible to transport the man's body all the way to the orphanage. Still, it was the sentiment that counted.

Vash found the gravestone on a high ledge, sticking out of the ground in one of the nicer patches of dried weeds and grass that grew around the area, probably due to the water vein that ran under the orphanage grounds. Vash thought it rather appropriate placement; Wolfwood would have liked it. When Vash looked back, he could see the whole orphanage from the small rise that they had put Wolfwood's marker on. It was as though Wolfwood was still watching over them.

He knelt down in front of the grave and examined the weathered stone, already bleached badly by the twin suns. There was a single inscription: Nicholas D. Wolfwood. There were no dates, which disappointed Vash, because he had wanted to know how old Wolfwood really was. The Eye of Michael manipulated their members' bodies too much to be able to tell accurately. His stomach twisted in regret. There was so much he hadn't known about Wolfwood, even though he had considered the man his best friend.

He knew one thing about Wolfwood, though, for sure. He reached into one of the pockets of his coat and produced a large bottle of Wolfwood's favorite whiskey.

"Sorry, it took so long, buddy," he said, pulling out the stopper with a pop. "You know how it is, though. Work, work, work, right?" He took a sip of the whiskey, to test the flavor, and, satisfied, he poured the rest of it over the dirt. It soaked in slowly, as though there wasn't a lot of dirt there to begin with, just stone.

"I know you're not really here," he said quietly. "But you get the idea."

There was a long silence. All Vash could hear was the whooshing of the wind as it passed across the desert. There would be a storm in a few days. After one hundred years, he had gotten a sort of sixth sense for these things, though it was more like recognizing signs subconsciously, and he knew that. He just wished that it was more due to a sixth sense than the fact that he had been around so long. Long enough to lose a lot of important people. Though this person, not actually lying below his knees but hundreds of iles away, had been one of the most important.

"I miss you," Vash whispered. He put the bottle down. "We were a good team. With the girls, too. We had something good." He felt a tear roll down his cheek and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. "Damn it, Wolfwood, what am I supposed to do now?"

Livio had heard Vash leave – he wasn't very sneaky about it – but he didn't move. He lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. Vash probably needed some time alone with Nicholas. They had a strange friendship, but it was a friendship nonetheless. Livio was sure that Nicholas got frustrated with Vash often – Livio knew he certainly did – and Vash probably felt frustrated about Nicholas, too. Their ways of thinking about the world had been so different, at least until the last years. Nicholas had changed after meeting Vash, and the rest of the Gung-Ho Guns had noticed right away.

He lay awake for a long time. He didn't know how long, but eventually he heard Vash come back in, the outlaw's heavy footsteps making the old house shake. He wished Vash would be quieter; he was going to wake the children. Livio sat up at last, groaning, and went out to find Vash. The outlaw was sitting at the small table in the kitchen, drinking out of a bottle of whiskey that Livio was sure the orphanage didn't have in stock.

"You are so loud," he accused.

Vash turned and grinned at him. "Sorry. Did I wake you up?" He waved the bottle at Livio. "Want some?"

"I don't drink," Livio grunted.

Vash put the bottle back down. "Sorry," he said again. "I guess only Wolfwood did."

"He did a lot of things that weren't good for him. Like smoking." Livio sat down at the table in the chair opposite Vash. "Chapel told him that it would mess with the modifications, but Nicholas didn't listen."

"He never listened very well," mused Vash, taking another swig. Livio could see in the dim kitchen light that his eyes were a little red. "You know he entered me in a quick draw once, without telling me first?" he said, pointing his finger at Livio accusingly, as though Livio had done it. "That guy…" He trailed off and shook his head. His hand left the bottle on the table and Livio saw him begin to scratch the inside of his right forearm.

"He was a great guy," Vash finished, and the scratching stopped. He reached over again and took a long drink. When he put the bottle back down, he sighed.

"What are you going to do now?" asked Livio.

A look of distress passed over Vash's face before it was replaced by a calm blankness. He shrugged. "Keep wandering, I guess," he said.

"Search for Love and Peace?"

Vash grinned, the first real one Livio had seen on his face all day. "Something like that," he said.

"How's that going?"

Vash put his head on the table and groaned, saying something that sounded like, "damn bounty." Livio laughed and reached over to clap Vash on the shoulder.

"You need a vacation."

"Wouldn't that be nice." He put his chin on the table and pouted. "Don't outlaws deserve a break every once in a while?" he whined.

"I don't know if people would agree with that."

Vash narrowed his eyes, still pouting, but he didn't argue. There was a long pause.

"Why did you ask about the Eye of Michael?" Livio asked at last.

Vash's pout dropped. He thought for a moment. "Something has been bothering me about the way the Earth Federation is acting," he said at last. "I have a feeling they didn't put that bounty on my head just to ask me for information, but I'm trying to figure out why. And the Eye of Michael…" Vash sighed. "I dunno. It's been bothering me. And you're the only one left who would know anything about it…"

"I'm hurt," Livio said. "You didn't just come by to say hello?"

Vash blinked and looked guilty. Livio laughed.

"I'm joking, Vash," he said with a grin.

"I have been wanting to come by," explained Vash, "it's just been difficult… And I thought you might be mad at me," he added, sheepishly.

Livio raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

"Well, you didn't seem too happy to see me."

Livio looked away. "It wasn't that… I just…" He sighed. "I spent so much time worrying about you, and I finally decided to forget it." He shrugged and looked up again. "You were missing for so long. No offense, but I gave up on you."

Vash chuckled. "Yeah. I kind of hoped everyone else would have done that, too."

Livio laughed. "Sorry it didn't work out that way."

"Yeah, oh well," said Vash, grinning and taking another swig of whiskey. "Well, it is nice to see you again. And I'm glad everything's going all right."

Livio smiled. "Yeah. It's been a long time." He sighed and leaned back. "Honestly, it's been nice, having a break from you," he continued. "You always make things complicated."

Vash frowned. "Thanks a lot."

"As for the Eye of Michael, you're right, there's no one left," Livio said, ignoring the disgruntled look on Vash's face. It hadn't been a compliment, after all. "However, the cult still exists."

Vash blinked and sat up. "Cult?"

"You didn't know? The Eye of Michael started out as a cult, for Plant worshippers."

The man across from him shifted uncomfortably, and Livio could understand why. Vash didn't have anything to worry about though; Livio had never been a die-hard Plant worshipper. He was just a lost kid, taken in by the wrong crowd. He hadn't known what he was doing; he still wasn't quite sure what he had done.

"So it still exists," Livio continued, shaking his head, "but it's just a cult. Only our branch practiced actual Plant-Human experimentation, and it was kept a secret."

Vash sighed. "That's good to hear, I guess. No more lunatics like Chapel scooting around."

Livio snorted, imagining what Chapel the Evergreen would have done if he heard someone say he scooted around on his wheelchair.

"Anyway, if you're looking for information, I would suggest you find them." He thought for a moment, wondering if he should make the joke or not. He chanced it. "Hell, if you tell them you're a Plant, they'll probably give you everything you want on a goddamn golden platter. You know, alongside someone's head."

Vash blanched and looked like he was going to be sick. "Do they really do stuff like that?"

"Maybe it was just for Knives. He seemed to enjoy human head. Oh, jeez, I'm just kidding!" Livio amended at the look on Vash's face. He laughed, slapping the table.

"It's not funny," Vash whined. Then he frowned. "And there's no way I'm spreading around the fact that I'm not human," he said warningly.

Livio put his hands up in surrender. "Neither am I, don't worry," he said. "Besides, I can't say much about myself being human anymore," he added.

Vash frowned. "You're still human, Livio," he said seriously. "The Eye of Michael didn't change that. Don't think that they can ever take that away from you."

Livio looked away, staring at the table. It had some terrible moisture rings on it, but he supposed it didn't really matter. They had a wooden table, which was rare enough as it was. Did it matter if it was damaged?

"I feel old, Vash," he said wearily. "Like, deep, heavy in my bones. Do you know what I mean?"

"No."

Livio looked up again. Vash wasn't looking at him; instead he was staring out the small window at one of the moons. Livio couldn't tell which one.

"No, I don't suppose you do," Livio murmured, and Vash looked down and sighed.

"I'm leaving in the morning," he said, standing up. He picked up the whiskey bottle.

Livio stood up too, feeling tired and sore. "Where are you going?"

Vash didn't answer for a moment, just looked out the window. "July, I think," he said.

Livio raised an eyebrow. "Really? Is that safe?"

Vash shrugged. "Probably not. But I think I have some business there, too." He smiled at Livio, a rather apologetic smile. "Someday we'll be able to hang out, without any trouble going on," he said.

Livio snorted. "Are you kidding me? You're Vash the Stampede. Trouble follows you wherever you go."

Vash could only laugh along with him, but it sounded forced and sad, and Livio regretted saying anything, and for a moment, he even hoped that maybe they would be able to sit down and maybe even be friends, without having to face a war or the end of the world the next day.

Vash was true to his word; when Livio got up in the morning, he was gone.

"Where did that man go?" asked Kari, looking disappointed. All through dinner last night, Kari had made eyes at Vash, but he seemed to be avoiding her gaze. Livio had remembered the rumor that the Humanoid Typhoon was a womanizer, and he wondered why Vash didn't jump on the chance. Kari was pretty and available, so why not? Then again, Livio thought, even though he hadn't really had a chance to get to know Vash very well, that didn't really seem like a Vash thing to do.

"He had some stuff to take care of," Livio answered. "Had to run early. He wasn't originally going to stay the night anyway."

Kari pouted. "Do you think he'll come back?"

Livio chuckled, surprising Kari.

"Oh, yeah, probably," he said. "He'll probably come back to throw the world upside down."

Note: Thanks for reading! I'll try to post the next chapter by next Friday. And hopefully it will be more exciting than this one. Heh heh.