- Prologue -

The Lost Wander

The twin suns hung high in the cloudless sky. Rays of crushing heat shimmered over the rolling, wave chopped sand dunes. In any direction sparkling images of vast seas appeared, tempting weary travelers to wander from their plotted course and to their thirsty deaths. Nearing the crest of a dune was one such traveler, the heat of the glaring suns made worse by his black outfit and the weight of the unconscious man over his right shoulder and back. This man knew better. He knew that those vast seas were only mirages - tricks of the suns and harsh gritty sand. And yet, at time he still found himself mindlessly veering off towards them. Most times he caught himself and corrected his position due west.

His bright blonde hair hung limp from sweat, teal eyes squinting from the harsh suns' glare in spite of the round shaped yellow tinted glasses that reflected the dunes. With each step red pools were left, clumping in the sand before a soft breeze kicked up the gritty particles and covered them, hiding all trace of his passage. Stumbling, he righted himself with a pained grunt, not stopping in his forward momentum. He couldn't afford it. Three days in this flaring hot sun and two chilly nights, his wounded body was reaching its limit.

"Oi-oi-oi..." Vash wheezed, shifting the weight of his dying brother back over his shoulders after another stumble. "I really... should think... my plans through."

He may have defeated his twin in the battle that decided the fate of Gunsmoke's human population, but his plans to help his brother see why they needed them -or lack thereof- were pointless if they both died out here in the middle of nowhere. Not to mention, he had a promise to keep. With this thought Meryl's face danced in the dry air before him. She stood. No, more like floated before him. Those gray eyes with flakes of purple pinched with frustration. Mouth taut, pressed into a thin line. Her hands were crossed before her, looking as if she were about to scold him, and he could barely hear her voice drifting on the breeze, "How dare you die on us, Vash." Ah, her scolding never got old. He smiled lazily.

And of course there was Milly too. The giant woman -who stood an inch shorter than him- appeared, floating behind the other woman, dwarfing her easily. She stared back at him with her warm lax smile and sparkling brown eyes that noticed more than anyone else he knew. Would those eyes be sad now? Dimmed with Wolfwood's death? The two had grown close with the events prior to the fight with the last two Gung-Ho Guns.

He missed his insurance girls. They had a knack for finding him at the strangest times. What he wouldn't give for them to pop up suddenly and save his lousy hide now. Yeah, that would be great. He sighed. And some doughnuts wouldn't hurt either.

His thoughts drifted, wandering the parched memories in the shadows of his mind - a lost traveler flipping through old movie reels of his life. In his haze the suns crept along, orbs inching through the blue sky to the horizon's edge. It wasn't until a sharp chilly gust of wind blasted him, making him trip to the left and nearly fall over, that he realized day had given way to night and the five moons of Gunsmoke glinted in the starlit heavens. He looked around, bemused. I should have reached Eastwind by now. And yet there wasn't a soul in sight, nor the shine of light from a town in the distance.

"This is... no good," he murmured, only for the use of his voice to burn his throat and forced him to stop walking as he hunched over, a bout of ragged coughing quaking his body.

Once the fit ceased he licked his cracked lips, deciding it was best not to talk anymore and pushed on. Walking, and walking, and walking, his mind filtered through fragmented thoughts and memories, unable to hold on to much of any coherent thought. He knew not how much time had passed from the last time he consciously realized he was in trouble when his next step gave way with the slopping sand and he slipped. He managed to correct himself, running down the sand dune, his wounds complaining something fierce. Then his weary foot caught in the sand and he stumbled forward, throwing both him and his brother and they fell end-over-end down the slope. Each impact hurt, but not as bad as when the sand gave way to hard basalt.

Jarring. Rough.

It nearly knocked him unconscious. But he held on somehow.

Then the basalt disappeared, and he felt as if he hung in the air weightless for a lifetime. That was until gravity remembered itself and he found himself falling into... clouds. Through squinted eyes -his glasses long gone- he stared amazed by the swirling gray and dark blue clouds. Rain clouds? They were wet, charged particles that made his hair stand-on-end. He knew only of them from those vids Rem had shown him long ago on the SEEDS ship. The massive rolling storm clouds that could bring tornados and lightening flares. Nothing like them existed on Gunsmoke for the desert planet had no seas or huge masses of water to power them.

Seconds later he fell out of the bottom of the clouds. He stared up at the rumbling mass, startled by the droplets of water. Just above him he could see the hazy mass of his brother, falling with him. Wonder. Pure childish delight filled him. Only to plunge into water below, swallowing him up as he saw the dark murky surface disappear, giving into the cold world of darkness as he sank. The water pulsated, pushing him deeper as his brother entered.

Closing his eyes - he found it so easy, imagining letting himself give in. Letting him and his brother simply end here, in this unknown mass of water. Humanity would no longer have to worry. Knives would be gone. He would be gone. But just as easily he remembered his friends. Wolfwood. Lena and her grandmother. The children he played with. Gardenia, the woman he saved from slavery three -or was it four?- years ago. Milly... Meryl.

His eyes snapped open with her name. The lack of air was starting to pain him and he coughed. Barely managing to hold himself together, he used what little strength his weary body had left and swam awkwardly to his brother. He never realized how difficult it was, never having the need to learn. He gabbed Knives' wrist and jerked for the surface, struggling with their joint weight. Would he be able to do it?

His head broke the surface and he gasped for air - amazed that he had done it. Dimly he made sure his brother's head was above the surface before swimming for the shore he could see in the distance. Kick, kick, arm, kick, kick, arm. It was all he could think about, the edges of his vision blurring.

Reaching the bank -only God knew how much later- he flopped both of them onto land and panted, clutching the muddy dirt and plants. Next to him Knives' coughed, freeing his lungs, water splashing on the sides of his mouth. He fell silent, still unconscious. Drifting in and out himself, Vash laid there, about ready to give in. A sound, grass bending under a foot, drew his attention forward just before he slipped away and he looked up, finding a silhouette -and a flash of vibrant red tentacles fluttering in the darkness.