Disclaimer: All of the recognizable aspects of this fanfiction belong to
whoever owns the rights to Trigun. If you decide to sue, I'm broke. So
it's kind of pointless. Luv ya!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------
Chapter 1: The Stranger
The stranger woke from his sleep three days after my cousins, Roger and Michael, rescued him. He had been close to death and had lost a ton of blood. Frankly, as a nurse, I don't know how he was even alive at that point. God only knows how long he'd been lying in front of that altar. His piercing gray eyes roamed the room before staring deeply into mine.
"Wh...uh...gr..."
"Don't try to talk just yet, sir. You've lost a lot of blood. You shouldn't even be alive right now. Why don't you go to sleep again?" I smoothed his hair back. It was shaggy, like it hadn't been cut in months. This guy just doesn't take good care of himself, does he? He must live a very dangerous life to get this badly wounded.
"V...Va..." he tried to speak again. He made a coughing sound, and then continued. "Vas..."
"Sir, you really must try to rest and regain your strength. You've been unconscious for at least three days now. Look at you! You're as pale as a ghost. Here," I said, mixing a sleeping potion. I held the glass to his lips. "Drink this. It'll help you recover."
He grunted and turned his head. I rotated it back. "Now sir, don't make me force-feed you this medicine."
He grunted again, and then opened his mouth. "There's a good boy. Now, drink all of this up and go back to sleep."
"Do..dun..."
"Don't worry, I'll stay right here beside you." He closed his eyes slowly, his jaw relaxing as the concoction worked its magic on his badly torn body. I brushed his hair back again, and then made myself comfortable in the rocking chair next to the sickbed. I took up my sewing. The first thing to mend was the stranger's clothing. Huh? What's this? I wondered as I fingered the silver cross cufflinks. Does this mean that he's a priest? For the love of God! Who would shoot a priest? What is this world coming to? Oh Lord, please let them repent of this travesty, this...this blasphemy!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------
"Rachelle? Rachelle! Wake up!"
I opened my eyes. Roger was standing over me. It was late morning and, fool that I was; I had fallen asleep with my sewing in my lap, my hands still on my patient's cufflinks. I brushed my short red hair out of my eyes and stood up.
"Your patient is awake, cus."
"Oh? Oh, yes!" I scurried over to the bed. "Sir? Are you awake now?"
He opened his eyes. They have a hint of blue in them, I thought as he slowly raised his head. "He...hello," he struggled to say, letting his head fall back onto the pillow, his face pale from the exertion.
"Ah-ah-ah! Don't try to talk yet. Roger, get me some soup from the kitchen. And have Michael prepare a sponge bath for me. Now," I said, turning my attention back to the figure firmly tucked into the bed, "if you behave yourself, I might let you go outside this afternoon. Okay?"
"Sh...shu...sure."
"Now what did I just say about talking?" I said sternly as I held a glass of water to his lips. He slowly drank it. "Do you want more? Just nod for a yes," I added.
He nodded his head and I poured another glass from the pitcher on the bedside table. "Here you go. Ah, now here's the soup. Good, good. Rog, where's Mike with that sponge bath?"
"He's comin', cus," he sighed. "Geez, do you have to be such a nag?"
"Would you talk to your mother that way?"
"Never met her. You and Michael are my only family."
"Yes. Now, who took you in? Clothed, fed, and took care of you? Me, Myself, and I, that's who! Now get going. You may be seventeen, but I can still turn you over my knee anytime I want to!" I gave him a playful shove towards the door, and turned back to my patient.
"Wha...! What are you doing? You lay right back down, this instant!" I hurried to his side and pushed him back into a sitting position. "You just lost any chance of getting out and about, mister!"
"Thanks for the wonderful treatment and the water, ma'am. It really revived me."
I stepped back, astonished. How on earth did he recover this quickly? Is this guy even human? I wondered. "Ho...how? How did you do that?"
"Do what? What did I do?"
"Recover this quickly! Why, with the amount of blood you lost from those bullet wounds, you should've been immobilized for another three days, at least!"
"Bullet wounds? What bullet wounds?"
I glared at him, trying to shove him into a lying position. "The ones that are currently located all over your chest. Or don't you remember?"
He glanced down at the bandages wrapping his chest. "Praise the Lord! How did those get there? And where am I, anyway?" He looked up at me, a look of puzzlement in his entrancing gray eyes.
I looked deep into his eyes, mystified. "You mean you honestly don't know? You don't remember what happened to you?"
"Nope."
"Oh, "I laughed, relaxing muscles I hadn't realized were tense. "Well, why are you teasing me, you big sill-"
"I mean I don't remember anything."
"Hey, cus? Do you want us to give him this bath right now?"
"Just...just a minute...Mike. You're joking, aren't you? This is just some prank...right?"
"I wish it was. I only remember two things: the words priest and Vash."
"V...Vash?"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------
Chapter 1: The Stranger
The stranger woke from his sleep three days after my cousins, Roger and Michael, rescued him. He had been close to death and had lost a ton of blood. Frankly, as a nurse, I don't know how he was even alive at that point. God only knows how long he'd been lying in front of that altar. His piercing gray eyes roamed the room before staring deeply into mine.
"Wh...uh...gr..."
"Don't try to talk just yet, sir. You've lost a lot of blood. You shouldn't even be alive right now. Why don't you go to sleep again?" I smoothed his hair back. It was shaggy, like it hadn't been cut in months. This guy just doesn't take good care of himself, does he? He must live a very dangerous life to get this badly wounded.
"V...Va..." he tried to speak again. He made a coughing sound, and then continued. "Vas..."
"Sir, you really must try to rest and regain your strength. You've been unconscious for at least three days now. Look at you! You're as pale as a ghost. Here," I said, mixing a sleeping potion. I held the glass to his lips. "Drink this. It'll help you recover."
He grunted and turned his head. I rotated it back. "Now sir, don't make me force-feed you this medicine."
He grunted again, and then opened his mouth. "There's a good boy. Now, drink all of this up and go back to sleep."
"Do..dun..."
"Don't worry, I'll stay right here beside you." He closed his eyes slowly, his jaw relaxing as the concoction worked its magic on his badly torn body. I brushed his hair back again, and then made myself comfortable in the rocking chair next to the sickbed. I took up my sewing. The first thing to mend was the stranger's clothing. Huh? What's this? I wondered as I fingered the silver cross cufflinks. Does this mean that he's a priest? For the love of God! Who would shoot a priest? What is this world coming to? Oh Lord, please let them repent of this travesty, this...this blasphemy!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------
"Rachelle? Rachelle! Wake up!"
I opened my eyes. Roger was standing over me. It was late morning and, fool that I was; I had fallen asleep with my sewing in my lap, my hands still on my patient's cufflinks. I brushed my short red hair out of my eyes and stood up.
"Your patient is awake, cus."
"Oh? Oh, yes!" I scurried over to the bed. "Sir? Are you awake now?"
He opened his eyes. They have a hint of blue in them, I thought as he slowly raised his head. "He...hello," he struggled to say, letting his head fall back onto the pillow, his face pale from the exertion.
"Ah-ah-ah! Don't try to talk yet. Roger, get me some soup from the kitchen. And have Michael prepare a sponge bath for me. Now," I said, turning my attention back to the figure firmly tucked into the bed, "if you behave yourself, I might let you go outside this afternoon. Okay?"
"Sh...shu...sure."
"Now what did I just say about talking?" I said sternly as I held a glass of water to his lips. He slowly drank it. "Do you want more? Just nod for a yes," I added.
He nodded his head and I poured another glass from the pitcher on the bedside table. "Here you go. Ah, now here's the soup. Good, good. Rog, where's Mike with that sponge bath?"
"He's comin', cus," he sighed. "Geez, do you have to be such a nag?"
"Would you talk to your mother that way?"
"Never met her. You and Michael are my only family."
"Yes. Now, who took you in? Clothed, fed, and took care of you? Me, Myself, and I, that's who! Now get going. You may be seventeen, but I can still turn you over my knee anytime I want to!" I gave him a playful shove towards the door, and turned back to my patient.
"Wha...! What are you doing? You lay right back down, this instant!" I hurried to his side and pushed him back into a sitting position. "You just lost any chance of getting out and about, mister!"
"Thanks for the wonderful treatment and the water, ma'am. It really revived me."
I stepped back, astonished. How on earth did he recover this quickly? Is this guy even human? I wondered. "Ho...how? How did you do that?"
"Do what? What did I do?"
"Recover this quickly! Why, with the amount of blood you lost from those bullet wounds, you should've been immobilized for another three days, at least!"
"Bullet wounds? What bullet wounds?"
I glared at him, trying to shove him into a lying position. "The ones that are currently located all over your chest. Or don't you remember?"
He glanced down at the bandages wrapping his chest. "Praise the Lord! How did those get there? And where am I, anyway?" He looked up at me, a look of puzzlement in his entrancing gray eyes.
I looked deep into his eyes, mystified. "You mean you honestly don't know? You don't remember what happened to you?"
"Nope."
"Oh, "I laughed, relaxing muscles I hadn't realized were tense. "Well, why are you teasing me, you big sill-"
"I mean I don't remember anything."
"Hey, cus? Do you want us to give him this bath right now?"
"Just...just a minute...Mike. You're joking, aren't you? This is just some prank...right?"
"I wish it was. I only remember two things: the words priest and Vash."
"V...Vash?"