Okay, this is something I've been working on for a long time now. If you steal any part of this, and try to pass it off as your own, I will find you and pluck your still beating heart from your chest and eat it as your eyes glaze over in death… Got it? Thanks!

This is kind of different, it doesn't follow the real plot of the show, it's just… I don't know, you have to read it to understand.

I may have misused a certain term… bokushi, I believe it means priest, but I'm not sure. If I'm wrong… sorry.

Disclaimer: I don't own Trigun or any of its characters. :sobs:

The day he walked away was the first day he ever said my name. He had never done so before, never even once; but I suppose that day was very different. It was the day they came to collect him, his life. His so-called friend, his very own twin brother, it didn't matter who they were to him, business was business. And Vash was business.

What really leaves a mark in my mind though, was Vash's behavior the morning of that treacherous day. His usually smiling face was weighed down with a frown, his bright aqua green, beautiful eyes dark and half closed. And his hair… He put so much work into it. Brushing, washing, gelling, he loved to make his hair styled, spiked, and completely motionless. Today his gorgeous honey-blonde locks fell listlessly into his eyes. Death seemed to loom around this man, he seemed to realize it.

As the hours rolled on, painfully slowly, the clock finally reached five. At first he didn't seem to notice that I was sitting across from him as he slowly sat down at the kitchen table. After several drawn out moments, though, he finally seemed to become aware of me. He smiled a little, really it paled in comparison to most of his previous clownish grins, but I couldn't complain, at least he was acknowledging my presence.

He opened his mouth and said in a ghost of a whisper, "Hey there, Short Girl." Yes, I am a short girl, his short girl. I'm at least a foot shorter than him, my head barely even reaches his chest. I am his short girl, and I will always be his short girl. A friend, a roommate, a shadow, occasionally even a nurse, to him. But to me, he was more, so much more. He was my love, secretly of course, the man I admired from afar. To this day I regret not telling him how I felt about him…

I smiled back, it felt painful to smile at such a broken man, but for him, I would endure the most horrific torture and laugh. I would smile as they shot me, fall to the ground and die with the biggest smile on my face. Look Death right in the eye and laugh at Him. I would take on the whole world, for him. And I would gladly die for him.

"Hey there…" Broom-head. My mouth immediately formed the nickname, but as my eyes fell upon his extremely unkempt mop of hair, I couldn't bring myself to say the name aloud. It wouldn't have been right, it wouldn't have felt the same as before. It would have been a grievous mistake on my part.

I knew, as I stared at the empty husk of the man that sat across from me, beyond the massive oak slab of a table, that I shouldn't pry into his life, his business. After all, I was only his short girl, nothing more, nothing less, I meant nothing to him. Who was I to pry? But I couldn't help myself, the words were bubbling up from the deepest, darkest place inside of me, rising into my chest, rising into my mouth and springing forth. I couldn't stop myself from asking.

"Va-Ericks, are you okay?" I caught myself from fully saying his name, and he didn't seem to notice my little slip up. He hardly seemed to even notice my question at first, so I repeated myself again, this time remembering not to say his real name. I hoped that this time he'd respond. He was really starting to worry me, more so than usual.

His head snapped up from the table instantaneously, he looked mildly surprised, perhaps he had forgotten I was sitting across from him, and looked at me; truly looked at me. His eyes were probing my entire form and he seemed to be able to read my very thoughts! I was naked and exposed in front of the man I never should have even befriended, yet alone fell in love with.

The haunted smile returned to his visage once more, I was beginning to truly hate that look. It was more alarming than his doughnut-munching face, more upsetting than his face looked when he was crying. At least then he looked human, as human as a plant could at least. This new look was more than disturbing, it was chilling. He never looked so much like his brother than when he had that overly serious look on his face. It made him look decades older than he really was; which was quite the feat considering he was well over a century old.

"Me?" he questioned quietly, "I'm fine, just fine. Really, I am." He was lying. I knew he was lying, and he knew I knew! And even still, he kept that look on his face, lying to me straight faced. It felt strange to hear him lie so blatantly to me. It almost hurt. His words sounded so hollow, reverberating in my ears over and over again. Lie after lie, echoing until I couldn't handle it anymore.

"That is complete and total bullshit and you know it, Vash the Stampede." I had said it! I said his name. I watched his face meticulously to see if my words would have a negative or a positive effect on him. I knew he didn't want to be called that anymore, I knew the name Vash only held sorrow for him. But I couldn't help myself, Vash was his name, it was who he was.

A ghost of his former self floated just beneath the surface of his scruffy, unshaven face. His eyes seemed to flash brightly, looking just as they used to, for an instant. A smile started to tug at the right corner of his lips, and I smiled with it, encouraging it. What an improvement one little word can bring.

"Hey Short Girl, that's really a blast from the past. What made you think of that?" I tried with all my might, channeling my inner actress, who had disappeared after I had stopped taking theatre arts in high school, to shrug nonchalantly. I think he bought it, I hoped he did, and continued to stare at him, silently asking him to keep talking to me. "Well, it may very well be bullshit, as you so eloquently put it, but I don't want to worry you with my trivial problems. They're mine after all, not yours."

I got what I wanted; he had kept talking, only I wasn't smiling or pleased anymore. Truth be told, I was quite sick of him hiding everything from me, like I was a child, weak and needing his protection from the "grown up" problems of the world. It cut me deeply when I realized that even now, after all these years, he still didn't trust me. He still refused to say my name.

I turned away from him then, looking deeply at the wall right above his head, slightly to the left. I blinked the traces of tears from my eyes quickly before he could notice them. I couldn't stand the thought of him seeing me cry, I couldn't stand the thought of anyone seeing me cry. As I stared at the clock above his head, watching the seconds tick by slowly turning into minutes, I vaguely remembered it striking eight. Then I felt the table shake, heard a chair scrape against the cream colored floor.

"Are you leaving for good?" the question left my mouth before I even realized what I was saying. I prayed that he'd say no, that he was just going to bed early, that he was going for a walk, that he was going on a doughnut run, anything! Anything but him actually leaving me for good. I prayed to any and every god I could think of, begging each and every one of them to let him stay with me. Perhaps they had forsaken me…

"Yes." One word, one single-syllabled, tiny word that spelled the end of the world for me, the end of the entire human race for all I knew or cared. I knew I couldn't follow him this time, this time was different. I felt my eyes fill with tears once more, but this time I could neither hide nor stop them from flowing down my face. I couldn't turn my head away from him fast enough to prevent him from seeing me cry. At that moment I really didn't care though.

"Why?" I whispered, brokenly. Even though I knew it would hurt me immensely, I didn't care. Even if it killed me, stuck me dead as I sat her sobbing openly, unabashedly, what did it matter? If I couldn't have Vash here with me, then what did anything matter to me anymore?

"He's coming. I can feel him in the wind, taste him in the morning air, he's on the move, on the hunt. He'll annihilate anything that gets in his way, even you, especially you. I have to leave now, before he gets any closer, I have to find him and confront him now, before he gets too close… Because if he knew you were here with me, he'd slaughter you without even batting an eyelash. I'm sorry…" His voice tapered off to an almost silent whisper as I strained my ears to catch his words.

"Will I ever see you again?" My voice cracked much more than I wanted it to. And since when was my voice so shaky and unsure? He was making me weak, Vash was, and I absolutely hated it. I wanted to be strong, for him if nothing else. "Vash… Will you ever come back… to me?"

I heard him sigh deeply, and I felt my heart bust into a million inky black shards, each one falling, glittering dully as they clattered and collected around my feet. He wasn't going to come back. He didn't want to return to me. He had no intention of coming back to me once this fight with his brother was over. He didn't care about me, and it broke my heart.

"Oh Meryl." My breath caught in my throat as I heard my name whispered on his lips so tenderly. "I wish I could come back after this mess is all over. Start a life here, a real life, with you." My heart jumped up into my throat and stuck there, and I nearly fainted. Did he mean what I think he meant? "I wish I could spend the rest of my life, my entire life, here, with you. But I don't think it's going to be that easy. I'll try though, I'll try to find my way back to you, because I love you, I love you so much."

He strode over to the door and was gone before I could even form a coherent thought, before I could even blink. Love. He said he loved me. Me, little old Meryl Anne Stryfe. He said he loved me and we wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. He said such wonderful, magnificent, terrifyingly beautiful things to me, and I just let him walk away without saying anything! What if he thought I was rejecting him! What if he never returned? And he had even said my name…

I jumped up and flung open the door, and was met with nothing; absolutely nothing. The street was desolate, eerily quiet, and completely deserted. Nothing moved, no human, animal, or even my vanishing plant. I called out his name, quietly at first, my voice growing in volume each time I called out, my desperation rapidly growing, until eventually I was screaming his name out at the top of my lungs. Surprisingly, or perhaps not so surprising, no one answered me.

The hours crawled by, slowly evolving into days, which finally mounted up into weeks. It must have been three weeks, which felt more like three eons, before Nicholas returned. Cradled gently in his arms, as one would cradle an infant, was a length of bright red fabric, which at one point in its life was a trench coat. His coat. I only remember one instance when he wasn't wearing that coat, and even then, he never let anyone else hold it. Something was wrong, incredibly wrong.

Nicholas handed the bundle of cloth to me slowly, while whispering his condolences. "I'm sorry Shorty. I found this slung over a rock in the middle of the desert, miles from the nearest town. I don't think we'll have any luck finding his body though. Shit… I really am sorry…" His face was so deceptively convincing, his voice pained. I felt rage boiling deep in my stomach, bubbling, rising to the surface. Why was he lying like this?

"Traitor." With one simple word and a million different angry implications that went along with it, Nicholas's face fell, his sad mask shattered to pieces. "Traitor. Why should you be sorry? Wasn't it your mission to kill him? Bastard! I wish you had died instead of him! I hate you!" I screamed, grief making me say things I never would have otherwise. I clutched the coat to my chest, and I ran. I didn't even know where I was going, not even realizing the direction I was traveling in, tears clouding my eyes. I stopped to wipe my face, with his coat, when I finally realized where I was. I was at the cliff near our house, our special place.

Quickly I raced up the trail, ignoring my lungs as they shrieked at me to slow down, not use to such a strain. Upon reaching the top I approached the edge, remembering the last time I was here, the last time we were here. Vash had such a lovely singing voice; I was shocked. I never would have thought he could sing. I'll remember it always, until my last dying breath; I'll always remember this cliff, and him. I sat down slowly, my knees finally giving in, and submerged myself in my memories, subconsciously clutching the coat to my chest, wishing that he was still alive and would return to me someday, when an odd notion popped into my head.

I had to put it on, I had to put on his coat. If I couldn't have Vash to comfort me, then I at least needed this. To feel what he felt everyday, to feel what it was like to be a legendary gunman. The warm, worn, fabric against my naked arms felt heavenly. His scent literally surrounded me in a blanket of gunpowder scented warmth. Surely this was as close to heaven as I could ever hope to get.

Momentarily forgetting my reasons for putting the coat on in the first place, I slid my hands into the pockets, feeling very carefree, feeling very Vash-like, when my right hand hit something cool, sleek, and metal. I removed my hand incredulously, bringing with it his gun. I was holding Vash the Stampede's gun, while wearing his coat, standing where he did once. The only thing missing from my little charade was his orange tinted, round frame sunglasses…

As I stood there, staring at the gun in my hands, the rapidly setting sun's light glinting off the barrel, I did something strange. I laughed. I laughed so hard my sides constricted painfully. I laughed until the laughter turned to tears, and I cried. I cried until there was nothing wet left inside of me. I cried for the loss of a beautiful, merciful soul, who no one really understood. I cried for that beautiful man.

"He's gone. He's really gone! Gone, forever!" I cried out into the dusk. "God! Why, why did you have to take him from me! Why? Answer me! Answer me damn it! It's not fair…" I fell back down into the dusty gravel, exhausted. I couldn't deny it anymore. Vash the Stampede was dead. The Humanoid Typhoon was gone for good. I felt it in my soul, Vash was truly dead.

Suddenly I felt very stupid and very alone. I put his gun back into the right pocket hastily, and ripped the coat off. I grasped the front collar in my slightly shaking hands and gently kissed the front collar. It was the solace I desperately needed. It was as close I could get to kissing him… The material was soft and smooth, nearly perfect, just like its previous owner…

My feet moved of their own accord as I slung the bullet ridden coat over a rock and looked over the edge of the cliff. Under the guise of night, I couldn't even see the bottom. My heart screamed at me, demanding that I jump. My head told me not to be stupid. I was just promoted, I still had my health, and Millie was still there to be my support. 'But not Vash.' My head told me, 'You don't have Vash anymore, and you never will.'

"Maybe I should just jump…" I mumbled. Suddenly I thought back to the first time I had ever met Vash; I remember how he stood in front of another cliff, miles away, yet looking incredibly similar. I remember how he turned when some bandits accused him of being suicidal, and replied, "Actually, I disapprove of suicide the most!"

Just thinking about him, about times when we were together, put a smile on my face. I knew that soon that smile would disappear, replaced with a watery pout and tears, but I tried my hardest to resist the urge to cry. I knew crying would cause him pain, and the last thing that man deserved was pain.

Thinking of him, I gingerly picked up him coat once more from where I had carelessly thrown it, and began my trek back home. As I reached the porch I saw Millie inside, a small grimace gracing her usually naively happy face. It was disarming to say the least. As I passed a window I saw my own face and was mildly surprised to catch a glimpse of the same grimace. The door swung open wildly, hitting the side of the house harshly as Millie rushed forward and gave me a bone crushing hug. Her heartbeat felt like the galloping of a whole herd of toma.

"Millie?" I questioned. Hearing her name seemed to give her just the push she was waiting for, the push she needed. Her composure slipped away, and in an instant I felt a wetness on my shoulder. Her stooping figure shook with every breath she took. Had she already heard the news? How long was I gone for?

"Oh Meryl! Everything's all wrong! I heard about Vash-san… Oh Meryl. I'm so sorry! Things weren't supposed to be like this Meryl! We were going to be happy! I always figured the four of us would stay together, forever. But now everything's all wrong! Bokushi-san left…" Numb with this new tidbit of information, I stepped back to look my best friend and partner in the eyes.

"What? How…" I felt my eyebrows knit together, where was he going? "Millie, he just… left? He didn't even tell you where he was going or why? He didn't even say goodbye?" She shook her head, her mousy brown locks swinging through the air madly. How dare he just leave her without even saying goodbye! I knew he was a spontaneous kind of guy, but I also knew he loved Millie. Perhaps almost as much as she loved him…

"I saw him around noon, he said he had already told you about… Vash-san. He waited while I cried, then told me that at least he had succeeded in his mission, Knives is dead too." Millie was tearing up again, and as I blinked slowly, I realized I was too. But at least the world was safe now… We had won, but it cost us the life of a god of a man. It didn't seem like a fair trade to me.

"Oh Meryl… I'm sorry, I forgot about how much you cared for Vash-san. This must be killing you inside." Her arms, which had never left my shoulders, suddenly squeezed me tighter. Looking into her eyes, I realized that she knew what I was feeling, to an extent. Sure Wolfwood was alive, but he might as well be dead, he wasn't coming back. I could feel it, he was never coming back, just like Vash.

"Millie… Oh God, Millie, I love him! I love him and he had to run off and die! I'll never see him again, I'll never get to tell him how I feel about him, I'll never get a chance to be with him! Oh Millie, I love him so much." This was the first time I had said the words aloud. They hung heavily in the air, making it feel stale and oppressive. His coat, forgotten in all the commotion, had fallen to the floor. It looked so forlorn, alone, crumpled, so broken. It made me cry all over again.

"I miss him Millie, so much. Oh how I miss him. It hurts to even think of him, to remember him, but I don't want to forget. I never want to forget him. I don't want to forget one single moment I spent with him, good or bad. I just miss him so much…" I dug my face deeper into the embrace, seeking the solace it openly offered. I tried desperately, in vain, to calm myself, to return my breathing to normal. It didn't work.

"I know, Meryl, I know. We'll get through this, together. And it's not like you'll never see him again. You will someday. Someday you two will be reunited, I know it. Until then, I'll stay with you. I promise I'll stay with you until the very end. After all what are friends for?" The look on her face was so sincere, how could I not believe her? I hoped she would stay with me for as long as she could.

And, true to her word, Millie did stay. We stayed together right until the very end. She never saw Wolfwood again, and no one else could ever compare to him in her book. She never even looked at another man the way she looked at him. I knew exactly how she felt. Sadly she died three days before her thirty-fifth birthday. She was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. Caught in the cross fire between some lowlife bandits and the cops. Two bullets straight through the heart, her death was almost instantaneous.

Life went on for me, a lonely, empty life. Everywhere I looked, I saw their faces, all of them. Mother, father, Wolfwood, Millie, Vash… They haunted every waking moment of my life, but it was a bittersweet haunting. If it wasn't for those ghostly visages haunting me, I would have very likely killed myself. But I didn't, I lived on, for them. I have no regrets, except of course never telling Vash how much I loved him, and for not being there when Millie passed on. Hers is the face that haunts me the most, I knew her longest, and was closer with her than with anyone else. But it's a haunting that I welcome, like a long lost friend returning for a visit and a cup of tea. I treasure these moments with my specters. After all, they are all I have left.

The End

Wow… I hope that made sense.Well, review. Tell me if I fucked anything up.