Disclaimer: Trigun and Trigun Maximum and all their characters belong to the honorable Yasuhiro Nightow, who is gracious enough to allow fanworks based on his wonderful work. Bows

Professor Jonah Kipley is my own character, however. He's of no great importance - just a random character I invented for the sake of the fanfiction plot.

Notes: This is a manga-universe based fanfiction, and is, if you will, an "alternate ending." It was written for a contest on a Trigun fanboard. This piece, in fact, was the contest winner. I received a very lovely piece of art from Magnet-Rose as a prize. Spoilers for later manga are within, however, they probably aren't too bad.

It should be noted that I've only read up through the English releases of the manga (Trigun Maximum 7 as of today, I think I'd only read through Trigun Maximum 5 at the time this fic was written). I've read snatches of spoilers/translations and scans of some of the lastest Trigun Maximum manga that's come out in Japan, but only sparingly. I like spoiling myself for some things, but, overall, I like to leave most of the little details for when I have a translated manga book in my hands. Reading stuff online is fine, sometimes, but I am forever a lover of print. So, if there are some little details amiss, I do apologize.

This is, after all, an "alternate universe/ending." The contest this was written for was "write your own ending to the manga." - It wasn't even necessarily "what you think would really happen for a manga ending" – but a creative endeavor to "make a possible ending in your own style."

If the manga does actually end like this, I'll be honestly surprised. If it does, by some fluke, I'll have to demand prize-MONEY or something from Magnet-Rose! Haha!

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooO0Ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Whitefeather


It had been nearly a year since what people were calling the "Near Extinction" and the survivors were slowly rebuilding their lives. What was left of the rescue fleet from Earth was rendered small and in ruins. Only now had sufficient repairs been made to attempt a return to the home world. Even so, not every citizen of the Planet Gunsmoke wanted to go.

Some of the Lost Technology brought from Earth was allowing rudimentary terraforming to take place on some parts of the planet. Determined souls had made small tracks of desert bloom into farmland and had increased energy and water output from the remaining Plants without causing them harm.

Milly had gone back to her hometown to live with and to rebuild with what was left of her family. Livio had wandered off to parts unknown. Legato Bluesummers and Elendira the Crimsonail were dead. Meryl continued to report for and to write records of the Near Extinction for the Bernardelli Insurance Society. She chose to remain and live in Whitefeather.

Whitefeather… it was the perverse name given to the town that had cropped up nearby the Great Crater. The survivors named the place Whitefeather, because all that was left after the battle between Vash the Stampede and Millions Knives were a few blood streaks and thousands of long white feathers. Scientists had estimated the crater – a large, almost canyon-like scar in the raw bedrock of the land, to be just larger than the size of the crater in the Fifth Moon.

No one living would forget the terrible light that carved this feature. The rogue Plant with his absorbed collection of others, bent on genocide. The ships from Earth, trying to quell him with devices of Lost Technology. The brother, the infamous Vash the Stampede, attempting to stop the killing.

Some said that that it was a final act of redemption for Vash – a monster, plagued with conscience, the guilt of those he killed, seeking some last act. Only those that knew Vash really knew what was going on, and even then, they'd never known the whole of it. Knives had been destroyed. So had Vash. The crater was left. The only traces of the freeborn Plant twins to be found were long streaks of blood in the sand and stained into the rock, a few tiny fragments of bone, a few teeth, and thousands of soft, long feathers, scattered upon the ground and blowing in the wind after the light had vanished.

Most felt relief, after that. The threat was over, not only from Millions Knives, but from Vash, as well, should he had lost his mind and turned upon the human race. Nearly a year later, some people made pilgrimages to Whitefeather, to leave flowers and small, sentimental objects along the edge of the crater, people who had known and had their hearts touched by Vash, people who simply felt a strong need to honor heroes.


"So, you came here to learn more 'bout Plants…" said a strong old man with gray stubble as he smoked a cigarette.

Meryl followed him into the dark corridor leading into the workings of Whitefeather's hydroPlant. Cool wind hit her face, slightly damp. The small woman clutched a pen and alegal pad close to her chest. She was researching the physiology and abilities of Plants for a historical record of the Near Extinction, one of many attempts by Bernardelli and other interested parties to understand what had happened.

Professor Jonah Kipley was supposed to be an expert on such matters. He'd been solicited for interviews before, but had sharply declined. Only now did he show any signs of being forthcoming, and he's insisted on talking with Meryl Stryfe, and her alone.

The temperature dropped as Meryl followed Kipley down into the facility. They passed computer consoles and strange machinery, robotic arms appearing as the skeletons of fell creatures in the dim light. Kipley took a long drag on his cigarette and took off his wide-brimmed cowboy hat. He motioned for Meryl to sit down when they came to two simple metal chairs.

"You contacted me about Plant life cycles," he said, "if I'm correct."

"Y-Yes, sir," Meryl answered nervously.

Jonah grinned broadly. He dropped his cigarette on the floor and stubbed it out with the toe of his boot. "You knew him, didn't you?"

"Huh? What?"

"I can see it in your eyes. You have such beautiful eyes, but they're so sad. You knew Vash."

"Yeah.. yes sir, I did…but…"

"He was my friend, too…. for a long time. I'd heard that you were assigned to follow him around to prevent disaster. 'S why I sought you out."

Meryl shivered slightly. She stared at the old man. Her muscles tensed. He seemed to know more about her than she had volunteered.

Professor Kipley was quiet for a long time.

"Plant life cycles…" he mumbled. "They never really die."

"Huh?" Meryl asked. "Of course they do. I've heard of Last Runs. And… Knives and Vash…"

Jonah smirked as he lit another cigarette. "They live on. It's not exactly in the form they had, but they live on. It's hard to explain. I'm not even completely sure what it is, myself. It seems like Plants live on as a form of energy or something… like ghosts, I guess. I hear them all the time, voices in the dark of old facilities where I've seen Last Runs. They can do no more than whisper. They're physically powerless, but they're there. They're around."

Meryl clutched her pad close to her breast. She'd feared this man was mad. He was a man who claimed to hear the voices of the dead.

Jonah glared at her. "You don't believe me, do you? Let me show you."

He grabbed her by the hand and pulled her down a set of stairs. "Listen," he instructed. "Listen. This is the inner heart. Plant AZ51X is here, and she's very much alive in the form that we are used to. She doesn't talk much, but it's a high-pitched, tinny sound when she does. Listen more closely and you'll hear other voices. You'll experience feelings, impressions. Those are from the Plants that have lived here before."

Meryl shook her head and started walking backwards, back toward the steps.

"Miss Stryfe, please, listen. I know what I'm talking about. It's actually common knowledge among engineers worth their salt. Our equipment detects anomalous energies… energy signatures distinctive to Plants we know who've died. Stay still. Listen. You'll hear their voices."

Songs came to Meryl's ears, gentle buzzing sensations to her head. Voices swam around her, whispers, random conversation, talk of freedom and of flight. Talk of the "sister in the bulb." Feelings overwhelmed Meryl, feelings of joy, feelings of sorrow, a few twinges of anger.

"Feel that?" Kipley asked. "Yeah, you do." He smiled broadly. "You know, a lot of my friends have told me, that in the center of the crater, they can feel a sense of malevolence. I've felt it sometimes when walking around the crater. I feel it sometimes in here. It's anger. It's impotent rage. It's disappointment. It's difficult to describe, and full of hate. We think it's Knives."

Meryl breathed deeply, in wonder at all of this, the feelings, the voices around her. "What…" she ventured, "What about Vash?"

Jonah looked slightly sad. He shook his head. "No… I haven't heard him and I haven't felt anything that'd I'd thought was anything like him."

"Then….?" Meryl looked down.

"Eh," Kipley said. "Vash is still around. I'm sure of it. You knew him. He loved this planet, its people. Knowing him, he's stuck around. Knowing him, he's somewhere watching over the world. Vash was too attached to this planet. He wouldn't leave it."

Meryl headed home. She watched the suns set in front of her, wondering about everything she'd learned and felt. She was filled with confusion. She had a hope in her heart, a strange hope, but also sadness. Vash was dead. He was gone. She'd come to accept that.

A billow of dust was kicked up by a sudden wind. She watched it dance and twirl, listless in the cooling, but still hot desert air. Something caught her eye, something in the dust cloud.

She looked, long and hard. There was silhouette among the dust, the form of a man. The form looked somehow familiar. Long coat tails. Hair that stood up spiked.

Before she knew what she was doing, Meryl found herself running toward the dust cloud. Could it be?

"Vash?" she called. "Vash? Vash!"

The dust cloud and the silhouette disappeared.

Meryl stood, staring at the place where they were.

Something fluttered in the wind, bright and soft. She reached her hand up and caught it - a long, white feather.

END.

Shadsie, 2005