One Left Behind
Disclaimer: I don't own Trigun or any of it's characters.
Chapter 1 The town was still. Only the shaking wind truly disturbed its serenity. Half a dozen of the village men worked in the center of tow. Their backs were stripped, skin glistening with sweat underneath the angry sun. They toiled away ceaselessly, hammering quietly away at the town well. Water shimmered at the brim of the stone structure they worked upon. Golden sand floated in on a gust of wind, speaking silently of the desert awaiting any who ventured from this little town. It glittered in the sunlight, striking the workers. One man stood from his stooped position, one hand shielding his eyes from the tempest sun. He saw her first, standing at the edge of the village, on foot still buried in the sun-warmed, golden, desert sand. She was clothed in sand covered cloths, wrapped loosely like a cloak around her small form. It covered her almost completely, only her piercing gray eyes glared out from above the collar. Her long black hair hung down her back, moving slightly in the wind. One pale hand was extended forward. The man motioned to his comrades as she walked toward them slowly, her steady and determined stride only interrupted by a well-hidden limp. She held a small black revolver in her outstretched hand, her white skin stark against it, appearing almost translucent. They stood, unable to move as this tiny figure approached them. She stepped up to the one who had seen her first, barrel pressed against his chest, slightly above her head. She was so small. Her eyes pierced into his and he trembled. They were haunted, those eyes. "I'm looking for Vash the Stampede." She spoke slowly. Her voice was soft, calm, and gentle with an almost childlike ring to it. But there was an underlying demand to it and, had her gun not been digging into his chest, the man believed he still would have had a hard time refusing it. He swallowed hard and pointed to a small house, just off the sandy street. She smiled, unseen by those who gaped at her. Her hand flicked backwards, the revolver spinning on her finger once, twice before she pocketed it, it's black surface vanishing beneath her cloak of rags. She turned and walked toward the house, her limping slightly more pronounced. The men watched her with terror shining through tears in their eyes. The door to the house was open, inviting, and she stepped through it cautiously. Her steely gaze caught first on the large wrapped crucifix that leaned against the nearby wall and she turned towards it slightly. A movement to her left caught her attention and she faced it, mind set, although her heart yearned to embrace the 'merciful' cross to her. Her glare fixed on a pale form lying in a bed to her left. She limped towards it, pulling away her cloak, leaving it to lie disdain and unwanted, on the floor. Her skin seemed to shimmer, pale white opaque from long years indoors, against her black clothing. She wore a shirt of black leather spandex that seemed to mold to her body like a second skin. Long, shimmering, silky black pants touched the floor as she walked towards the bed, her black spider web duster trailing behind her. The only touch of color to her was a small silver cross that dangled from a silver chain around her neck. She held the revolver once more in her pale hand, spinning it up, her finger resting on the trigger. She ground the barrel end into the forehead of the older man who lay on the bed. His eyes opened and he stared at her a moment from beneath spiked bangs that extended from his choppy silver-blond hair. "Vash the Stampede." She said, once again her voice calm and remotely childlike, but empty as well, and full of hidden pain. The man beneath her smiled cynical and for a moment, she found herself frozen.; Her eyes caught in mid-blink were blind. She blinked suddenly and stared out at the barrel of a large brown-black gun that had been thrust into her own forehead. She looked up at it once, her gun buried in the man's gut, and returned her steely glare to his own mad eyes. "Not quite." He said, almost laughing. A shot rang out and she dodged to one side, dropping to the floor. A gasp form behind her turned her back from her foe. A tall blond man in a red coat stood at the doorway, a donut in his mouth. He held a large bag of food in his hands, one which now sported a gaping, smoking bullet hole. She stared up at him. "Knives!" he yelled, swallowing his donut. Aquamarine eyes glaring at the form behind her, one which she now turned to face. The other man laughed quietly and scratched the back of his head with his gun. "Sorry Vash." He said quietly. She stared up at the blond man in confusion. "You're Vash the Stampede??" she demanded. He turned to look at her, smiling. "Yep! That's me!" he said happily. He shoved a donut into her face. "Want a donut??" he asked, eyes wide. He backed down slowly, the barrel of her revolver in his forehead. She glared at him, seething. "Answer me a question, Humanoid Typhoon. And I won't kill you and drag your body away for the sixty million double dollar reward. In truth, I don't care about it much." She said. He nodded, casting a glance to Knives. The other man was already bringing his gun to bear but Vash waved him off and looked at the girl before him. "What question?" he asked, aquamarine eyes locking onto her gray ones. She blinked, mildly surprised. But she pressed the gun to his head harder, glaring darkly. Vash closed his eyes, waiting, just simply waiting. She spoke slowly, carefully, voice calm yet there was danger in her lack of emotion. "Where is Nicholas?" she asked softly. He blinked up at her, Knives behind her bursting into maniacal laughter. Tears formed in Vash's eyes. "Why do you want to know about Wolfwood?" he asked slowly, trying not to let the betraying droplets fall. She cuffed him with the butt of her revolver. "I'm asking the question, Vash the Stampede! And you will address him by is proper name, Nicholas. My brother traveled with you. His cross lies there, against the wall. Now I'll ask you one more time. Where is Nicholas?" she demanded, eyes cold. He blinked up at her, confused. "Brother???" he whispered. "Nicholas was your brother???"
Disclaimer: I don't own Trigun or any of it's characters.
Chapter 1 The town was still. Only the shaking wind truly disturbed its serenity. Half a dozen of the village men worked in the center of tow. Their backs were stripped, skin glistening with sweat underneath the angry sun. They toiled away ceaselessly, hammering quietly away at the town well. Water shimmered at the brim of the stone structure they worked upon. Golden sand floated in on a gust of wind, speaking silently of the desert awaiting any who ventured from this little town. It glittered in the sunlight, striking the workers. One man stood from his stooped position, one hand shielding his eyes from the tempest sun. He saw her first, standing at the edge of the village, on foot still buried in the sun-warmed, golden, desert sand. She was clothed in sand covered cloths, wrapped loosely like a cloak around her small form. It covered her almost completely, only her piercing gray eyes glared out from above the collar. Her long black hair hung down her back, moving slightly in the wind. One pale hand was extended forward. The man motioned to his comrades as she walked toward them slowly, her steady and determined stride only interrupted by a well-hidden limp. She held a small black revolver in her outstretched hand, her white skin stark against it, appearing almost translucent. They stood, unable to move as this tiny figure approached them. She stepped up to the one who had seen her first, barrel pressed against his chest, slightly above her head. She was so small. Her eyes pierced into his and he trembled. They were haunted, those eyes. "I'm looking for Vash the Stampede." She spoke slowly. Her voice was soft, calm, and gentle with an almost childlike ring to it. But there was an underlying demand to it and, had her gun not been digging into his chest, the man believed he still would have had a hard time refusing it. He swallowed hard and pointed to a small house, just off the sandy street. She smiled, unseen by those who gaped at her. Her hand flicked backwards, the revolver spinning on her finger once, twice before she pocketed it, it's black surface vanishing beneath her cloak of rags. She turned and walked toward the house, her limping slightly more pronounced. The men watched her with terror shining through tears in their eyes. The door to the house was open, inviting, and she stepped through it cautiously. Her steely gaze caught first on the large wrapped crucifix that leaned against the nearby wall and she turned towards it slightly. A movement to her left caught her attention and she faced it, mind set, although her heart yearned to embrace the 'merciful' cross to her. Her glare fixed on a pale form lying in a bed to her left. She limped towards it, pulling away her cloak, leaving it to lie disdain and unwanted, on the floor. Her skin seemed to shimmer, pale white opaque from long years indoors, against her black clothing. She wore a shirt of black leather spandex that seemed to mold to her body like a second skin. Long, shimmering, silky black pants touched the floor as she walked towards the bed, her black spider web duster trailing behind her. The only touch of color to her was a small silver cross that dangled from a silver chain around her neck. She held the revolver once more in her pale hand, spinning it up, her finger resting on the trigger. She ground the barrel end into the forehead of the older man who lay on the bed. His eyes opened and he stared at her a moment from beneath spiked bangs that extended from his choppy silver-blond hair. "Vash the Stampede." She said, once again her voice calm and remotely childlike, but empty as well, and full of hidden pain. The man beneath her smiled cynical and for a moment, she found herself frozen.; Her eyes caught in mid-blink were blind. She blinked suddenly and stared out at the barrel of a large brown-black gun that had been thrust into her own forehead. She looked up at it once, her gun buried in the man's gut, and returned her steely glare to his own mad eyes. "Not quite." He said, almost laughing. A shot rang out and she dodged to one side, dropping to the floor. A gasp form behind her turned her back from her foe. A tall blond man in a red coat stood at the doorway, a donut in his mouth. He held a large bag of food in his hands, one which now sported a gaping, smoking bullet hole. She stared up at him. "Knives!" he yelled, swallowing his donut. Aquamarine eyes glaring at the form behind her, one which she now turned to face. The other man laughed quietly and scratched the back of his head with his gun. "Sorry Vash." He said quietly. She stared up at the blond man in confusion. "You're Vash the Stampede??" she demanded. He turned to look at her, smiling. "Yep! That's me!" he said happily. He shoved a donut into her face. "Want a donut??" he asked, eyes wide. He backed down slowly, the barrel of her revolver in his forehead. She glared at him, seething. "Answer me a question, Humanoid Typhoon. And I won't kill you and drag your body away for the sixty million double dollar reward. In truth, I don't care about it much." She said. He nodded, casting a glance to Knives. The other man was already bringing his gun to bear but Vash waved him off and looked at the girl before him. "What question?" he asked, aquamarine eyes locking onto her gray ones. She blinked, mildly surprised. But she pressed the gun to his head harder, glaring darkly. Vash closed his eyes, waiting, just simply waiting. She spoke slowly, carefully, voice calm yet there was danger in her lack of emotion. "Where is Nicholas?" she asked softly. He blinked up at her, Knives behind her bursting into maniacal laughter. Tears formed in Vash's eyes. "Why do you want to know about Wolfwood?" he asked slowly, trying not to let the betraying droplets fall. She cuffed him with the butt of her revolver. "I'm asking the question, Vash the Stampede! And you will address him by is proper name, Nicholas. My brother traveled with you. His cross lies there, against the wall. Now I'll ask you one more time. Where is Nicholas?" she demanded, eyes cold. He blinked up at her, confused. "Brother???" he whispered. "Nicholas was your brother???"