I don't own Trigun. You think that I would be foolish enough to let it only go one season? That I would make the evil bastard so kawaii . . . okay, that one I might have done. That I would kill the most kawaii character of all?! Not to mention the blue haired bishei?! Ah well, enough of this. The point is I don't own it T_T Alas! I never should have written 'The Impossible'! It has rekindled my love for first person stories . . .

**

~~Legato~~

Where am I? I can't move. My head hurts. Why am I still alive? I can hear something, someone talking. A man's voice, he's talking to me.

"It's a nice day outside, a lot like the day I found you. Hot, of course, what day isn't? But that's all right. I wonder if you can even hear me . . . Oh well, I'll keep you informed regardless for as long as I can."

What is he talking about? Found me . . . did he save me? I'm supposed to be dead. "We got another offer on the farm, but the misses wants to hold out still. She's getting sick again, you know." He keeps rambling on. I don't know why he's telling me all this, am I supposed to care?

I try to say something, open my eyes, anything. Nothing happens. The man keeps babbling on – something about his son. I try to speak again. This time I manage to make a raspy noise. The man is instantly silent. "Say, boy, you awake?" I rasp again, no more than heavy breathing, but it's enough.

I feel something cold and wet placed on my forehead. "It'll be all right, young man, I'm going to take care of you as long as I can. Relax, you'll be fine." I fall asleep listening to his gentle voice.

The days pass like that for a long time. The old man keeps me informed on what passes for news and how long I've been with him. 'One week since I found you.' 'Nine days since I found you.' 'Twelve days since I found you.' It was two weeks before I could open my eyes or speak, another week before I could move at all.

He came in early one morning, a strange gleam in his eye. "Day twenty-two, young man. And, lucky you, I've got actual news to report." I turn my head to look at him, only slightly interested. "There was a battle nearby. They say it destroyed a whole grove. Such a waste, there's so little green life on this planet. The interesting part is that they say Vash the Stampede was involved. But they didn't find any body, only a bunch of weird weapons, so they think both parties got away."

My eyes are wide now. "Vash . . .?" It's still so hard just to say one simple word.

He doesn't seem to hear my inquiry and just goes about feeding me and cleaning my bandages. After a moment he begins speaking again, as if he's afraid of the silence. "You know, young man, I never got around to asking your name."

I stare at him, feeling the tug of sleep at my mind. I close my eyes and give in to slumber, breathing my answer even as I drift off. "I am worthless." After all, I had failed.

**

I lean heavily on my cane. The old man had explained my injuries to me – he was some sort of retired surgeon. Vash's bullet hadn't killed me, obviously. It was lodged in the right side of my brain; he said I was never going to recover.

Funny thing though. The right side of the brain controls the left side of the body. I didn't know that until now. I can only move slowly with the cane, my left leg numb and difficult to move. I can't feel my left arm at all. The precious gift from my master is useless. I should be dead.

But I am alive and traveling again. I'm trying to find out what happened to my master, what happened in their battle. Vash . . . I was looking for the Stampede. Everything I've heard said he would be in this town – but where?

I fish in my pocket for the money the old man gave me to 'start my life again'. It was hard to balance, my good arm no longer clutching the supportive cane. But somehow I manage to pull out the bills and head once more for a food shop. I must look so pathetic, barely even able to stand.  And apparently I'm not the only one that sees it that way as a group of thugs approaches me, weapons drawn.

Hn, stupid spiders. I toss my cane up, grabbing it at the base, and slam the heavy handle into the man's head. Another approaches, and I repeat the process – lower. The others scatter, now convinced that I am not helpless.

But the skirmish has tired me and I lean heavily on my cane once more. If only they had all gone. One of the bastards sees my weakness and snatches the cane from my grasp, throwing it down the street. My support gone, I tumble to the ground and it takes no time for them to strip me of my money and pride. And so I am left alone in the cold street.

I try to stand or reach my cane, but my body simply can't do it. I spend ten minutes struggling to get up before someone comes along the desolate road. I hear his startled cry as he sees me and immediately curse my luck. So he is here after all.

I push myself up enough to look at him. Vash the Stampede. He looks like he's seen a ghost – well, he has, really. He runs to get my cane and quickly returns with it to my side. He raises me to my feet in silence, too afraid to speak. Why did he have to find me?

"You survived." I glare at the blonde. At least he notices the obvious well enough. "Can I buy you lunch? Please?" I don't want to accept his offer, but penniless and still starving, I have little choice. We walk into the shop and sit.

I stare blankly at Vash for some time. He seems unnerved by my presence. Good. Perhaps my survival can prove useful for irking the gunman at least. I order, not wasting any words. The blonde is afraid of the silence that I work to maintain at the table. When the food arrives, Vash continues to avoid my gaze, clearly uncomfortable in the situation. I reiterate – good. Eternal suffering, Vash the Stampede.

But now I am faced with a new difficulty. My left arm still hangs uselessly at my side, making even the mundane task of eating a difficult challenge. It isn't long before I can't take it any more and throw my fork down. I stand, knocking my chair over, and begin towards the door.

Vash jumps up behind me. "Legato, wait! Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving," I reply tersely.

"Wait, come back to my place. You're hurt and you can't just wander around out there."

I pause at his offer. Or rather at the thought it spawned. I had been looking for him after all, I'd nearly forgotten. Slowly I turn to look at him. "What happened to Master?"

He smiles slightly, seeing that he's won. "Knives? He's at my place with the girls. Please come." Reluctantly I nod and follow as Vash the Stampede leads me away.

**

Gah! I have broken my unwritten vow never to post incomplete fanfiction! The story is complete in my head, just not on paper. My muses keep attacking me and I'm in a lull right now. I figure feedback might force the story out of my mind, so here it is. You know, you always see Wolfwood getting resurrected by fans, but you never see the poor blue haired bishie come back to life. Man, I'm on a real Legato kick lately. Ah well, it's not exactly a bad thing ^_^ So should I keep this going? R&R or it might go into my personal collection.