Guess who doesn't belong to me! Trigun characters, yah!

I also do not own any copyrights to Beck or The Pretenders or any subsequent songs. Along these lines, the formatting for the lyrics is a tad screwed up-there's a whole line between each sentence, and I'm not completely sure how to fix it. I'm typing in Notepad (I write so much easier in it) so that might be part of the problem. It doesn't look like how I wanted it to, but oh well. ``Lyrics``

Sorry for the lack of updates...they'll become more steady once I'm in school.

*~*

As it went, Trieste's routine in life was undisturbed for almost a year after that. She didn't give Vash or anyone else a second thought after that long night, figuring Vash to be quite dead and the townspeople too inept and worried about their own lives to chase her for killing a stranger. She was somewhat concerned about Legato knowing where she was, but this wasn't urgent, either. Trieste knew she was heading towards his home territory. Before she had actually began her physical hunt years ago, Trieste had spent her time gathering information from law enforcers, bounty hunters, and the few early survivors of Legato's 'visits'. All of the research of far away victims was difficult, as long-range communication was nearly non-existent. But she had finally been able to trace people back to a region, albeit an extremely large and spread out region, of towns and cities that had been attacked at a much higher percent then the rest of the dusty planet. The area was thousands of miles wide, filled with nothingness and ghost cities, emptied by Legato's rage and insanity. Although these attacks had been earlier in his destructive career, Trieste was convinced that he lived somewhere around there, or at least had a stronghold he resided at. As far as she could tell, Legato hadn't made a personal appearance at his little war zones for a few years, but then again, some attacks left all witnesses dead; easily his work. Easily the most recognizable symbol of his beliefs, that life was pain and it was his duty to create more. He had started this practice with Trieste's family; she was the beginning of his murderous life, and Trieste was determined to finish it. It was a disgusting blood connection that ruined her very existence and turned an eleven year old girl into a hunter with the instinct to kill. And kill she did.

One unremarkable day Trieste trotted into a busy town around dinner time. Most people in the streets barely glanced at the hooded figure as she made her way to a tavern that appeared to have rooms to board up stairs. Dismounting and tying her horse to a post outside the bar, she realized that the place was a bit more upscale than she was used to, or possibly much lower than she preferred: the sign that read 'Live Entertainment!' could mean just about anything, from musicians to topless dancers. Walking in, she saw her first perception was correct, it was much nicer than she was used to; the bar was fairly quiet, mostly couples enjoying a beer or some snacks. She even saw a family sitting near the small, circular stage. On stage was a pretty young woman, in the middle of a piano accompanied song, one which Trieste did not recognize.

``Don't be ashamed to cry.

Let me see you through,

cause I've seen the dark side too.

When the night falls on you

and you don't know what to do,

nothing you confess

will make me love you less.

I'll stand by you.``

Trieste groaned silently inside her hood at the song. Glancing around, she saw the bar was fairly empty and dark, the barkeep idly cleaning glasses and arranging bottles of liquor. Sitting down at the bar, Trieste figured he was in his forties and noticed a wedding ring on his finger. Nothing fancy, just a small band of gold that adorned his finger.

'What'll it be, stranger?' he asked offhandedly, bracing himself in front of Trieste.

'The cheapest beer you got,' she replied. The bartender chuckled and produced a mug of amber-colored, crappy tasting beer that Trieste found too bitter and too thin, even for it's meager price. But she didn't mind it much, since it wasn't what she came for. 'Nice town,' she remarked casually.

'It's OK, we have our problems like anybody else.'

``Don't hold it all inside,

c'mon and talk to me now.``

'Any...bounty problems?' The bartender raised an eyebrow in interest.

'Possibly.'

``When you're standing at the cross roads

and don't know which path to choose,

let me come along cause even if you're wrong,

I'll stand by you...``

'What about a man by the name of Legato Bluesummers?' Trieste's voice barely carried across the bar, but the man behind it jumped as if she had shouted. Looking around the bar, he leaned in and spoke quietly.

'Legato is a dangerous man to talk about. This town hasn't had any problems but...' he trailed off as another man approached the bar. 'Name your drink, sir.'

'Five specials, please! The ones on the menu...' He smiled oddly, obviously having imbibed a few 'specials' already. Trieste was silent, listening to the end of the song as the barkeep mixed the drinks.

``And when, when the night falls on you baby.

You're feeling all alone, wandering on your own.

I'll stand by you

I'll stand by you.

I won't let nobody hurt you.

I'll stand by you.

Take me into your darkest hour,

and I'll never desert you.

I'll stand by you..``

As the woman trailed off, the piano man banged out a few pretty notes and ended. The audience burst into applause; the young woman wasn't half bad. Trieste watched at the man walked off with his drinks, walking somewhat sideways.

'Thank you much, you're a lovely audience!' The woman called out. 'That was I'll Stand By You, by The Pretenders, a band before our time. We are fortunate that their music has survived!' The audience clapped some more. Trieste turned her attention to the barkeep once more.

'Your town has been lucky enough to escape Legato. Count your blessings.' The barkeep nodded, the leaned in towards her again.

'I have a friend who knows someone who knew a guy who worked for Legato.' He paused as a group of people ascended the stage and announced they were going to sing a song by another group 'before their time'.

'He was actually a solo singer,' said the one man with a guitar. Another man and woman with a harmonica sitting down next to him nodded. 'So we'll be singing Bottle of Blues by Beck.' He laughed. 'I tried to pack as many b's in their as a I possibly could.' The audience chuckled. He began strumming the guitar and the woman started in on her harmonica. Then the two men began to sing pleasantly.

``I just found me a bottle of blues.

Some strange comfort for soul to soothe.

Ain't it hard, ain't it hard,

to want somebody who doesn't want you?``

'What do you know?'

He sighed. 'The kid's dead now, apparently he had bragged too much and Legato didn't appreciate it. He was murdered in his jail cell.' Trieste nodded almost imperceptibly. 'Said he wasn't hired by Legato personally, but by some doctor or something. He was taught the whole bit about life as pain and that horseshit.' He paused as a waitress walked up to give him orders for drinks and food.

``In a brothel of fake energy.

Put a nickel in a graveyard machine,

I get higher and lower.

I get higher and lower,

like a tired soldier with nothing shoot

and no where to loose this bottle of blues.``

'Any other specific information?' Trieste urged.

'Yeah, the kid was in Calia when he was first talking, said it was somewhere East of it. Don't know the area myself, it being so damned far away...' Trieste nodded and finished her beer.

``Egos drone and pose alone

like black balloons,

all banged and blown.

On the backwards river

infidels shiver at the stench of belief.``

'Thanks for the beer.' She pushed some money towards him, the payment for the beer and payment for his information.

'Anything I should know?' inquired the bartender as she got up. Pausing, Trieste stared at him for a few seconds, then shook her head.

'But I will give you some little known advice in return for your information. Watch for men with a feather stitched onto their clothes somewhere, usually the hat or back of the sleeve. It's Legato's trademark, the feather of some bird of prey he read about.' She paused, then added 'Not all of his men will have one, but if you see that symbol, I suggest leaving quickly.' Without another word, Trieste walked towards the door, deciding to stay in a different inn. Though she would never know it, that bit of information would save his life when he left the bar as angry looking men with feathers on their hats marched in and later on killed everyone inside.

``Like a tired soldier with nothing to shoot

and no where to loose this bottle of blues.``

A cheery harmonica saw Trieste out.

*~*

Over the same year, Vash had stuck around the town with Liana, discussing Trieste. Two months after her disappearance, they decided to go find her. Liana wanted to ensure revenge for the husband and wife that were killed, and Vash was still determined to stop Trieste from killing, since it was apparent she was so willing to do so. And he couldn't pass up a chance to travel alone with Liana, not like this. So they packed their Thomases, being unable to afford horses, saved some cash, and began their own blind hunt. They traveled from town to town, only staying for a few days. Vash suggested that they hit the bars, being that was where he had met her and they did offer chances of information. But despite this fact, no one they ever talked to seemed to remember the figure they described, which was extremely discouraging. They never mentioned Legato's name; Liana felt that would be a sure way to be killed. They traveled by pure instinct and luck, and even though they couldn't find Trieste, they were faring much better than they believed they were.

Liana proved to be a highly intelligent and skilled woman, knowing when she needed her pretty face and when she needed to show off her rather formidable marksmanship. She wasn't as good as Trieste, but she had skill that she used when necessary. Vash was impressed, surprised, and highly pleased with how their trip was turning out between the two of them, and how Liana's talents continued to show themselves each day.

*~*

Trieste silently gave herself a toast with the first good beer she had had in a year; it was June seventeenth and she was now twenty-six. It had been a couple of months since she stopped in that bar with the informative barkeep and she was a town away from Calia. It had taken her...almost three months. The terrain had been rougher than what she and her horse were used to, and it was just a God-awful long distance anyway.

::Why the hell do people build towns so far away from each other? It's insane, Jesus Christ.:: Even though she was almost at Calia, Trieste knew it could take literally years to cover the territory she was aiming at. It was huge, sand dunes hundreds of feet high, high frequency of sand storms, and low number of occupied towns. People were more scared around there, jittery, and she found herself being watched for the sole fact that she was a stranger. One innkeeper had even demanded she remove her hood before she could stay the night; her refusal led them to draw their guns. Throwing up her hands in frustration, she walked out and ended up sleeping in her horse's stall. Later that night, they had come in anyway to look under her hood and two ended up dead, the other wounded badly. She rode away before she knew his fate for certain.

The only place she knew would offer some shelter was the large city that was on her route, New Eire. It was fairly packed, there were plenty of families who actually owned cars-a rare commodity at that point-and probably oozing with information. Trieste planned to ride in two days, right now she was taking a break-and giving her horse a rest. She idly considered getting smashed that night, just to really celebrate her oh so wonderful life and perhaps would have if a sly, weasel-faced man hadn't slunk in. He banged the bar top for attention.

'Hey! Barkeep! I gotta question for you!' Trieste sighed inside her hood, casting the loud man a side-glance. That's when she noticed the gold feather stitched onto his sleeve. Narrowing her eyes, she finished her drink with a large gulp and watched the feathered man with keen interest.

::So Legato's men are hanging around? Well there go my drinking plans,:: she thought with a grim smile.

'What can I do ya for?' asked the bartender.

'I need a room, three nights, single with a bath if ya have them.'

'Of course we have them, sir.' The bartender went to a back room and came back out a few minutes later with a piece of paper and keys. 'Sign here and here, and that will be your nightly payment. I need your first payment now, please.' Legato's man fished around his pockets and pulled out some cash and change, laying it on the table.

'Lucky room number seven, can't beat it,' he said as he snatched his keys up. 'Listen, I'll pay you an extra night's stay if you send up some...entertainment later tonight. Thanks.' He sauntered away, not bothering to look at the bar keep, but by his disgruntled face, Trieste could tell he did not plan on sending him any entertainment.

::That's OK, you'll have me instead,:: she thought mockingly. ::Me and a gun that is.::

*~*