As I was walking through the desert, I suddenly wished that I hadn't left my coat behind when I brought Knives to be healed. The suns beat down on my head and shoulders mercilessly, and I had drunk the last drop of the water that I had brought hours ago; I held the canteen loosely by the short leather strap as was dragging it, my shoulders hunched

forward and mouth slightly opened.

I was happy to find a rock large enough that it cast a shadow for me to sit in. The sand was still warm, but it was less torturous than the sand in the full sun. I leaned against the rock and closed my eyes, and I suppose I must have fallen asleep because, when I opened them again, the moons had replaced the suns, and I was very cold. I looked up at the starless sky and smiled as I removed my sunglasses.

"How are you, Rem?" I said aloud. I shook my head and stood up; now I really wished I hadn't left my coat, because it was cold. I trudged on, the canteen slung across my shoulder. As I walked, I stared at the sand just in front of me.

"So unforgiving," I whispered, closing my eyes, as they grew too hot to keep open. I felt two large tears roll down my cheeks, and I reached up to wipe them away. As I drew my hand away, I felt two sharp pains, one in each shoulder; I looked over to the right to see a bullet piercing through my black shirt. I fell to my knees and watched the blood seep down my sleeves and onto the sand; my head swam with dizziness, and I collapsed breathlessly onto the sand as I lost all feeling in my arms.

As I lost consciousness, I heard the signature laugh of my brother. The sound made me feel sick to my stomach, or at least the smell of my blood mixing with the sand did. Knives rolled me over onto my back with his foot.

"Vash the Stampede," he whispered, chuckling to himself. "Who would have ever thought that someone like you would be humbled by his previously defeated brother?"

"You," I spat at him, though it sounded more like a cough than a retort. Knives stooped down and grabbed my shirt.

"Why didn't you kill me when you had the chance?!" I looked up at him, my eyes seeming to be in a vacant stare, and grinned stupidly. He brought his free hand up by his ear and slapped me across the face with, at least, half of his strength; Knives had always had a way of hitting me in just the right way that it made my eye feel as if it was going to come out of it's socket, and now was no exception.

"Why?!" he screamed again as my head slowly came back to its original place. I smiled at him again, but stopped as he moved his hand back.

"Because I'm not you." Knives snorted and hit me anyway, only this time he released my shirt; I fell face first into the sand, and that hurt worse than having his knuckles on my cheek. He grabbed the back of my collar and began to drag me across the rocky desert, and, after several blows to the head from small rocks that lay discreetly buried under the sand, my nausea and faintness passed, leaving me with a dull, throbbing headache. That, mixed with the numbness that was spreading from my arms to the rest of my body, was enough to make me wish I were dead.

Knives, undoubtedly, would take care of that, if nothing else.

I bit my lip as my left hand was sliced open on a sharp rock, and the pain lingered on until we reached the town that I had left a few hours before. By then, the cut had sealed itself, leaving only the tingling sensation in the tips of my fingers.

Hell, at least I could feel something…

"I see you took the time to honor your fallen comrades," my brother declared, pausing in front of our house. I didn't even look over my shoulder, because I knew they weren't dead; but Knives didn't have to know. I had only a moment to think of what Milly and Meryl could possibly be planning before being pulled to my feet and forced up the stairs. Knives pushed open the door and flung me inside.

"I'm sorry it had to end like this, Vash, but, you understand…" Knives pulled out his black gun and placed it against my head. Just then, a feminine figure, dressed all in black, jumped from the ceiling and landed on Knives' shoulders. He cried out in surprise before throwing her to the floor, and Meryl and Milly leapt at him from behind the door. They had him subdued in the few short seconds that it took for me to pull myself into a sitting position.

"What the hell?!" Knives spat, squirming in a useless attempt to free himself from the ropes that Meryl had tied around his wrists and ankles.

"What, are you surprised that you could be taken down by some girls?" Milly asked, some fury finding its way into her usual cheery voice.

"I swear, I'll—!"

"—Kill us?" Meryl finished for him with a laugh. "Oh, but you forget, Mr. Knives, that you already killed us. We're dead. Didn't you see the graves outside?" Milly laughed before hitting Knives upon the head with his gun; he was knocked unconscious immediately. The woman who had served as the distraction for Meryl and Milly rose to her feet with a hand rubbing her head. She extended her free hand to me, and I took it, allowing her to help me to stand.

"Aurora Jones at your service, Mr. Vash the Stampede," she stated, nodding her head in a sort of reverence. Aurora brushed some of her red hair from her face; she was beautiful, and I was in love.

Again.

"Ms. Jones is an ex-bounty hunter, Vash," Meryl explained as Milly tended to my wounds. "Without her help, we never would have been able to pull this thing off."

"Thank you, Ms. Jones, for assisting my friends in the saving of my life," I said to Aurora, my eyes sparkling in the dim light. She blushed as I flashed her my winning smile.

"No, thank you, Vash. I never thought I would ever get to meet you. You see, I was one of the many bounty hunters out to get you, but I am, I'm sure, one of the only ones who has ever actually found you."

"I had no idea that such beautiful women were hunting me down along with the usual ugly brigade!" I called out, only half-joking.

"Don't worry— I'm retired."

Milly yawned, and I took that opportunity to slink into my room. As I slid the lock into place, I began to think of ways to escape this bounty hunter. I knew who she was, and she was aware of that. Such a joint knowledge could be vital as well as deadly, but I knew that the infamous Aurora Jones wasn't retired, and definitely wasn't going to be easy to beat.