Note: I do not own Trigun, "Vash 'the Stampede'" nor Doc, nor any of the other canon Trigun characters. They all belong to the incomparable Mr. Yasuhiro Nightow.
The story prompt, which led to this tale, came from JasperK. If I did well, then JasperK deserves part of the credit. If I did poorly, that's probably just me. - sheepish -
Since it was JasperK's idea, this tale is dedicated to JasperK. :)
There are mild to moderate spoilers (manga) if you don't know who Tessla was or haven't seen (or read about) the day of the Great Fall. I have tried to write this story so that fans of either version can be entertained by it.
This tale begins decades prior to the time of Trigun's anime / manga.
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Friend in Need
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Chapter 1: Bad News
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Star Year 0089, month 12 day 18, Great Melba Border Sand Ocean, near Seeds
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Vash held up a hand to shield his eyes from the brightness of the suns. The day had reached late afternoon. His destination was to the west, which left the lowering suns near enough to the horizon that he must shield his eyes as he searched for landmarks.
He shrugged his shoulders and adjusted the cloak he wore over his coat. His breath immediately formed a frigid mist in front of his face.
Even in late afternoon, the arid winter air was so chilly that the cold seemed to soak through all of his clothing. He had taken the precaution of adding a shirt and pants over his body armor and beneath his coat, but he didn't seem to feel any warmer from the extra layer. His face, and ears, and the three fingers which were not encased in leather, were all beginning to feel numb from the cold.
He switched which hand held the drawstring handle of his duffel bag, again, so that he could stuff his right hand into a pocket to warm it.
The other hand was nearly immune to the cold, but his shoulder would quickly grow sore if he always used that side to carry his duffel. Between the weight of the duffel, and the extra weight of the hidden gun (along with the mechanisms which concealed it), he was compelled to avoid using the left hand exclusively for carrying his duffel. So the best he could do was to occasionally swap sides, to keep either hand or shoulder from complaining too much.
The frigid air was hazy. Very little breeze stirred amid the haze. Sand powder filled the winter air thickly enough to make his eyes sting and water, even if he were not already crying. It had thoroughly coated his skin, and hair, and clothing.
At the moment, it felt as if he were suffering his own version of Tantalus' punishment. He wanted to reach Seeds village. Seeing and smelling that particular variety of sand powder was usually a welcome sign of drawing nearer to it. Unfortunately, today, it had blown farther across the Melba border sand ocean than usual. He'd been surrounded by this distinctive sand powder for several hours, but he had not yet reached the chasm which stretched between the sand ocean and Seeds village.
Far in the distance, he could barely distinguish a carrion bird circling. He paused to watch. Shortly, the bird moved to circle another area. The new circle was far distant from the first.
Vash sighed in relief. Since the bird continued searching, it had found nothing. It was not hopefully following any travelers in distress. He could continue his planned journey without interruption. He felt a little guilty for that selfish relief, but he pushed aside both guilt and relief... and walked on.
He always felt melancholy, at best, on this date. Most years, he spent the entire day alone in the desert. He remembered, pondered, and mourned. This year, instead of finding solitude desirable, he wished to avoid it. He had no idea why.
Today was the anniversary of a sister Plant's death. Tessla, an independent Plant like himself, had lived for less than a year. She had died 131 years ago, two years before he had ever existed. He never had an opportunity to meet her, or to know her. Yet her brief life had a profound effect on his own.
Vash hoped again that Rem had hugged Tessla often. But, of course, she would have - if the others did not prevent her. He hoped they had not prevented, as he felt more tears fall from his eyes and make their own tracks down his dusty face. He still suspected that Rem was responsible for the toys, seen in the pictures of Tessla, from when she was so small that she crawled because she could not yet walk.
He sighed sadly, mourning Rem, also, as he remembered her. Then, for the moment, he pushed all thoughts of the past aside. For unrelated reasons, his travels had brought him near to Seeds village. He chose to visit those friends, today, instead of spending the whole day mourning alone. Perhaps, in the company of his Seeds friends, his soul could find a measure of peace ... even if that peace was only temporary.
Yet much of the day was already spent, and he remained alone. The haze had obscured his vision enough to slow his progress. When he craved companionship so deeply, it was difficult to be patient with the process of walking across the desert. Instead of seeing and feeling the beauties of the desert, today all he felt was its relentless harshness.
"Ah, there it is!"
He nearly startled, when he heard his own voice speaking those words. It happened when he finally saw the desert-side cable-car platform in the distance. According to long-standing custom, the cable car was waiting on the desert side of its run, instead of across the chasm nearer to the village and the ship.
His steps quickened at the sight of that distant human-made structure. He also surprised himself by feeling an entirely spontaneous smile appear on his tear-streaked face. It had been nearly four years since his last visit. He must be missing the Seeds villagers more than he'd realized.
He reached the platform. He quickly climbed into the waiting cable car, and began his trip across the chasm. The car was such a fragile thing, much like a life. It would take so very little to send it hurtling to destruction...
He was crying again.
Vash shook himself and deliberately turned his thoughts toward the upcoming reunion instead. Musing on the surprised expressions of Doc, Leta, Dustin, Brother Reeve, and other friends, caused a fragile smile to appear on his face again.
Then, as the cable car drew near to the Seeds side of the chasm, it happened.
External emotions surrounded him. The impact of those emotional echoes was so great that it was nearly physical, as if a heavy wall had fallen on him and was nearly crushing his life out of him.
(Please God... bring Mama back!)
Vash gasped with the intensity of the other soul's pain, as his fragile smile vanished beyond recall. Fresh tears welled up in his eyes, soon spilling down his face and onto his neck and coat. Helpless against the onslaught of emotional agony, he sagged against the gondola seat and sobbed broken-heartedly.
Though extremely rare, this was not the first time such an unlikely thing had happened. It might not be the last.
Vash had learned, long ago, that his own senses were able to detect things which ordinary humans' senses could not. If he was near enough, and there was no contrary breeze (or no overpowering scents, which had happened a few times), he could easily catch the scent of the biochemical changes which human emotions caused. Over time, beginning with Rem, he had learned which scent meant what emotion. That information had assisted him in getting out of some very difficult situations.
On an average day, only Plants could rattle him with the intensity of their emotions. Thankfully, most of his orb-dwelling "sister" Plants, encased in their large glasslike bulbs, were generally content. They would seldom broadcast their emotions with this much intensity, unless a new individual was emerging... or else one was near death. When either happened, the echoes of their emotions could be nearly deafening.
He thought of all external emotions he felt as "echoes." Because, he reasoned, if it were a sound instead of a feeling, it would only be an echo of the emotion instead of the emotion itself. It wasn't his, it belonged to someone else.
Although it did happen, sensing emotional echoes from an ordinary human was distinctly uncommon. It only seemed to happen when it was an especially strong emotion, and, even then, it was most likely that he would sense it only faintly even if he were in the same room.
When Vash sensed echoes of an ordinary human's emotion(s), it was usually similar to the effect of someone speaking in a different room nearby. There were only murmurs, like voices muffled by distance and a wall, leaving details such as words entirely indistinguishable. A tone of voice could come through, and perhaps one could discern the gender of the speaker. Maybe it would be possible to sense whether the speaker was a child, or an adult. But that would be all. It could be challenging to discover from whom such emotions came.
Body language was his greatest ally in detecting the source of most external emotions he detected. It didn't matter if it was by scent or by "echoes," he had to watch people to see who was most likely to be radiating those feelings.
Far less frequently, an emotional echo might come with added information. A secondary emotion might help to define the first. Or, even less often, a vague concept might also be present. For example, if what he had just sensed were in the nebulous notion category, instead of coming with words, then he might, perhaps, have sensed the idea of "mother."
Although it might not even have been that clear.
If he were ever to attempt describing that situation to an ordinary human, he might say it resembled a hazy image of the suns, which one could only see dimly through an extremely dusty window (on a day like today, when the air was also thoroughly dusty and hazy). Or else he might compare it to an image of the suns reflected on a mirror, which was so extremely dirty that it was almost impossible to see more than a vague light and shadow. In either case, it might be difficult to see the lesser sun. Such nebulous, unclear concepts would still provide neither specifics nor details.
He didn't know why so few "overheard" emotions, or emotional "echoes," came with added information. Perhaps the strength of the mind(s) in question made a difference. Perhaps it was something else. He shrugged. He dared not ask anyone, which left him with insufficient data. He might never know how or why he occasionally sensed something more than simply the strongest emotion from a few ordinary humans.
What he'd detected a few seconds ago was the very rarest of the rare. During the 129 years he'd lived thus far, he had only encountered it thrice previously.
He wasn't sure how or why it happened. He could only guess.
Those few, rare occasions when he actually overheard thoughts, the thoughts had always been heartfelt, desperate pleas. Perhaps those few people, when praying, willed so strongly to communicate that he had overheard part of their prayers. The desperately praying person had always been less than two iles away, when he overheard their thoughts.
He and Knives had been able to share thoughts with each other at will, as children. They had not used their telepathic abilities much, not since the Great Fall. He hadn't wanted such intimacy with his brother, after he changed so severely. Apparently, Knives had a similar disinclination.
When he and Knives had traded messages by thought, it was an agreed-upon, deliberate act for both of them. Each would concentrate to transmit thoughts he wished to share with the other, knowing those thoughts would be heard. Neither could "overhear" the other's thoughts, though it was possible to nudge at the other's mind and encourage sharing.
Overheard thoughts were very different. Each overheard thought had been intended to communicate... but not with him. Vash felt as if he'd accidentally opened someone else's mail. Which, he realized as he considered it, wasn't far from the truth.
Although he didn't know why he'd overheard, he did know that someone nearby was hurting worse than he was. Her wound was new. His soul's injury had healed into a scar, although that scar continued hurting and aching. Perhaps, if he found this child, he could comfort her, at least a little. Hopefully, enough to prevent her current circumstances from becoming an endless source of pain to her, as his had become to him.
Her? Yes. That information was somehow included in the emotional content connected to the overheard prayer. Somewhere, in Seeds village, a young girl's mother had recently gone away. Or, perhaps, her mother had recently died.
He knew it was presumptuous of him to approach someone who prayed, with intent to answer (if he could) any part of their prayer. He might not have wings as the bulb-dwelling Plants did, yet he could still try to behave as an angel might. **
He wondered... since anything was possible... had God wanted him to be part of the answer to that prayer? For all he knew, that could be the unknown reason why he'd changed his usual habit for the day. He hadn't planned to visit Seeds, until two days ago. As far as he'd known, it was merely a whim.
Yet it was a whim he could not explain. He wondered if that is truly all it was. Did God, perhaps, nudge at people's minds? Had he been nudged in this direction?
He shook his head, still sobbing helplessly.
Regardless of why he was in range, Vash was constitutionally incapable of hearing that cry for help without responding. He wanted to comfort the child, even if he could not cure the cause of her pain.
He would never forget the first time he'd overheard a prayer. It happened on the day of the Great Fall. That very first overheard prayer had been Rem's. She had asked that he and Knives would live, and walk "the same path." Vash thought she'd meant the same path as she had taught them. If so, most of her prayer had been answered. They had both survived the Great Fall. He did his best to walk a path which was as near as possible to the principles she had taught them.
Sadly, Knives had chosen a profoundly different path. All of Vash's efforts, thus far, to persuade his brother to return to following Rem's teachings... had failed, miserably.
He sighed sadly, and pulled a handkerchief from a pocket. He didn't feel equal to answering questions about why he'd been crying, so he tried to pull himself together and dry his face as the cable car drew ever nearer to Seeds' side of the chasm it crossed.
In time, the cable car reached the Seeds-side platform. He was still sniffling.
Vash wiped his face one last time, disembarked, and sent the car back across. As he did so, he was aware of a flurry of activity in the nearby guards' booth. They were certainly notifying the Council, and most likely a few others also.
They called greetings to him.
As he turned around, he managed to smile at them. It was an expression of gratitude, for their warm welcome. His burden of sorrow must not become theirs to bear. He was genuinely glad to see them. It was simply a joy diminished by the burdens of his own sorrows, and of the unknown child's anguish.
"How is everyone?" he asked.
"Most of us are doing well," George said solemnly. "But Vash, I'm sorry to have to tell you... Leta died this morning."
"Leta..." Vash winced. "I'm... very sorry for your loss. She was a remarkable woman. What... what happened?"
"Complications during childbirth," Sam said sadly. "Her little son didn't survive, either. Our medical staff tried, but he was almost three months premature."
"How's Dustin?" Vash said.
Dustin had doted on Leta, since they were very young. The two had always been close friends. Prior to their courtship, each had confided to Vash a fondness for the other... along with worries of their own inadequacies. He'd nudged the two to speak to each other, and their mutually bashful affection (and delight) had been a joy to behold. As far as he knew, nobody had been surprised when the young couple wed. The only surprise had been that they waited until his next visit, because they wanted him to attend.
Doc had helped his niece and her intended husband, by sending a radio message encouraging Vash to visit. He had included the reason why.
Vash had happily tied up his business elsewhere. He stood beside Dustin, as Leta walked up the aisle in her wedding gown. It had been a beautiful wedding. Vash had shed many tears of happiness for them, and enjoyed many doughnuts at their reception.
"Dustin and Lu are both devastated." Sam said. "Doc is hurting, too."
"Of course he would be," Vash said sympathetically. "She was his niece, and they'd always been close. And... Lu?"
"Dustin and Leta's daughter," Sam said. "You wouldn't have met her, yet. She was the baby Leta had barely realized she was expecting, during your last visit. Lu is nearly three, so young to lose her mother..."
"I see," Vash said sadly.
He did see. Lu must be the child whose prayer he'd overheard. The mother had not simply gone on a journey, as he'd initially hoped. Nor was it a divorce, as he'd known was a sadder possibility. Either of those situations could be mended. Death could not.
"I'll go to them," Vash decided. "I can't restore Leta, but I can mourn her with them."
"I'm sure they would appreciate that."
Vash nodded to the guards, and then walked away toward Dustin's house.
He considered detouring to the ship, to clean up. But he decided against that. He wanted them to know he came straight to them, as soon as he'd arrived. He found a place, only a few steps from the most direct path to Dustin's house, where he was unlikely to be observed. He shook himself, and brushed off as much dust as he could from his cloak and coat. He bent over and shook his head, too, and then ran his fingers through his hair in an effort to set it to rights. That would have to do.
When he had nearly reached the house, his control slipped briefly. He had to pause, to wipe at his eyes again. As he was stuffing his handkerchief back into his pocket, he saw Brother Reeve coming away from the bereaved household.
"Vash!" the aging clergyman said, sounding pleased even though he wasn't smiling. He came closer, and shook Vash's hand. "It's good to see you, though I could wish the circumstances were better."
"I heard about Leta," Vash said softly. "She will be sorely missed."
"Yes, she will," he agreed.
"How are your brother, and his family?" Vash asked.
"Oh, they're all thriving," Brother Reeve said fondly, "though mourning Leta along with everyone else. The grandchildren are a little young to really understand, though they are subdued by the solemnity of the adults."
Vash nodded, and then thought of something less sorrowful to discuss.
"The last time we spoke, you mentioned seeking someone to take on as an apprentice, of sorts," Vash said. "You hoped to find someone who would begin learning to do your job, and who might continue after you retire. Did you find someone?"
"One must be wary what they say to you," Brother Reeve said, smiling briefly. "You always remember! Yes, I may have found my 'apprentice.' The youngest Garcia boy is interested. He's been showing interest in becoming a clergyman for the past two years. He's only fourteen now, so a little young to begin serious training. However, in another year or two, if he's still interested..."
Vash tried to smile in return. However, he was too worried about the little girl to smile fully. He could still feel echoes of her pain, though he was controlling himself enough better that he was no longer sobbing. His eyes held unshed tears, though.
"Your burden is similar to mine," Brother Reeve said, gently acknowledging what he saw in Vash's eyes. "You want to help them, even though you can't restore the one they lost. Go to them. I know your presence will be a comfort to them."
"Take care of yourself," Vash said, nodding in a manner that was nearly a bow.
"God bless you," the aging clergyman responded, using a similar nod.
They passed each other, without another word, in mutual friendship.
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** Note: This chapter comes decades before Vash's feathers (or wings) would have manifested, according to the manga, in Star Year 104. He probably already knew that bulb-dwelling Plants could have them. However, he might not have known that he could - at least, not yet.