Chapter 9

Vash had always possessed a love/hate relationship with hospitals. They did, by definition, save lives which could never be a bad thing. On the other hand he'd spent enough times in them, either half dead himself or watching those around him die, that they rarely held any good memories.

He only just repressed the shiver which trickled down his spine as he entered June's hospital. He was surprised at how clean and comparatively well built it was, but then the hospital must have been one of the first things to be rebuilt after the disaster. Back when a few crazy people thought that the city might recover.

He soon found her. She was awake, surprisingly enough, lying back in her bed, her grey hair, no longer in ringlets, spread around her like a monochrome halo. Her chest was covered in bandages, her skin was paper white. Her blue eyes glared at him darkly as he entered, tentatively taking a chair next to the bed. He couldn't help but notice how small she was, how wrinkled how… old.

'I suppose you've come here to tell me how we're even now,' she rasped, her voice frail and soft, 'I mean, you did save my life… thank you.'

Vash shrugged, 'it's not about that,' he said, 'it never was really, but you're welcome anyway.'

Rem sighed, 'so what are you here for then? To shout at me some more? To vent more of your rage? I'm tired, Vash and old. Please, if nothing else, leave me to die in peace.'

'You're not going to die,' muttered Vash, suddenly becoming overly interested in his hands.

Rem remained silent, neither confirming nor denying his comment.

Realizing this really wasn't getting them anywhere, Vash decided he'd have to make the first move.

He forced his facial muscles into the approximate of a smile; it wasn't one of his best. Usually the mere act of smiling made him feel better, when he smiled he could pretend things were good (or else why was he smiling in the first place?) right now he just felt as bad as before.

Still, there was no help for it.

'I just wanted you to know,' he said, trying his utmost to sound sincere, 'that… I accept your apology!'

The woman smiled up at him cynically, 'thank you Vash,' she said, 'but really, unless you mean it, it's not much comfort.'

Vash couldn't help but be shocked, very few people ever saw through his smiles or his acts. Granted, that hadn't been one of his best but still…

'How…?

'Whether it was real or not,' whispered Rem, 'I was effectively married to you for six months and I did grow to know you. You haven't changed much, Vash, I don't know why you haven't aged… I don't much care. You still use fake smiles to hide your feelings though, more than you did before I'd wager. You did it then, too… No, there's no point in accepting my apology unless you mean it. I just… I just want your forgiveness Vash… not false words.'

The gunslinger spent a moment looking at this woman, this strange, deceitful woman, small and alone upon her bed. He came to a conclusion.

'You know,' he said, 'I think I might be able to start to forgive you if you told me your name… your real name. I think I could forgive you if you told me why you did what you did. You owe me that, at least.'

The old woman looked up at him and sighed, 'well, I suppose I might as well, you're right, I do owe you some sort of explanation.'

She paused for a while, gathering her strength for the long tale, and then she began.

'My name is Sarah, the second name isn't important any more. Many years ago now, when I was a girl, I lived in a little town outside of July. My family was fairly wealthy and I lived in comfort but, sadly, I fell in love with the local Thomas Shepherd. His name was Christopher and he loved me as deeply as I loved him. Things were good for a while but, you see, my father disapproved of our match, thought he was below me. Christopher's family felt much the same way, that it would not be fitting for him to marry outside his station so, being young and impetuous, we ran away to July. We'd saved up a little money and took a house together, Christopher found a job cleaning at the local Plant and I took care of our home. Things were good; we were going to be married as soon as we had enough money. Then, about four months after we'd first come to July… you… it was destroyed.'

Vash looked away, unable to face her. He knew full well what he'd done on that day, knew that logically it wasn't really his fault but, every time he was confronted with it, it still hurt him more than anything.

'Of course,' continued Sarah, 'Christopher and I survived the initial blast, no one died in the actual… incident. But, the next day, he went off to find the sheriff and he didn't… he didn't come back. After a while I went searching for him and I found him, dead in the street, a bullet through his head. I'm not sure why they killed him except his grandmother's golden ring, the ring he was going to give me when we were married, the one he always wore on his finger, was missing. I can only suppose some robber killed him for it…' her voice faltered a little here, the grief evidently had never fully left her heart. 'So when I saw you, on that very same day, lost and alone in the ruins, likely in a similar position to me, I thought what was the harm? Especially when I learned you had no memory. I thought I was doing the right thing, something good but, in the end, I betrayed everyone. I betrayed you, I betrayed myself and I betrayed Christopher. I doubt he'll ever forgive me, in whatever paradise he's in now and I don't know if I can ever forgive myself but… but if you could forgive me, if you could understand just a little then… then perhaps when I die I can rest in peace.'

The room was silent for a long time after that, neither of the two knowing exactly what to say.

Eventually, Sarah, taking Vash's silence for some sort of scepticism, added, 'if you don't believe me then look around my neck, you'll see a locket. Inside it is a picture of us, a paining done shortly after we came to July.'

Vash reached over her and soon spied the small, silver chain of the locket. Carefully unhooking it from around her neck he soon held it in his hands. He opened it and, within, he could see a small painting of two smiling people. One instantly recognisable as Sarah, the other a tallish man with golden hair, similar to Vash's except shorter and not as spiky. Christopher, presumably.

The miniscule portrait blurred in Vash's vision and he realized that he was crying, large tears dripping down his face to fall upon the tarnished metal of the locket.

It was true and it was nothing worse than he'd ever done.

He wondered how Lina must have felt, when he'd revealed his true identity to her. She'd forgiven him, though, hadn't held any kind of anger towards him, despite the lies he'd told her.

He'd done it for the best, he always did, and it wasn't a sin.

Vash the Stampede never lied, he made stories, he pretended to be and feel things that weren't necessarily true, but that was different. Everyone did that. Right?

He wondered… was it any better?

Probably not but, after a life time of pretending, he wasn't sure if he could stop, if he even knew who he was any more, if he dared stop.

He didn't think so, not now at least but, if he was going to keep on playing pretend then he couldn't hold other people it. He understood that now.

'Sarah,' he said, 'I'll tell you what, I'll forgive you, but only if you forgive me. Deal?'

'You mean it?'

'I do.'

'Then yes, of course,' laughed Sarah, her face finally breaking out into a real grin, 'I forgive you Vash! Though I doubt you deserve it as much as I do!'

Part of Vash begged to disagree, but Sarah's smile made her look years younger and he'd hate to break or diminish that.

So he grinned back and put his right hand in hers, squeezing it lightly, a simple but tender gesture.

She frowned though, looking puzzled, 'say,' she murmured at last, 'what happened about your arm? Last I remember it was… ah… missing?'

'Yeah,' chuckled the Gunslinger, 'got me a new one! It's artificial but does just as good a job as a real one!'

'I'm glad,' said Sarah, 'but please, if you can, will you tell me your story? I'd like to know who the real Rem was… and about Knives and what you did after you ran away. I was so scared I'd killed you, you know? That you'd run off to die somewhere.'

Vash gave a small laugh, 'I'd never do that, Sarah. I can't tell you the full story, but I can answer some of your questions, if you'll let me?'

Sarah nodded and, settling into her pillows, waited for Vash to begin.

He told her an edited version of his story, leaving out many, many details but quenching the bulk of her curiosity.

When that was done they talked a little of small, inconsequential things until, at last, her voice faded away completely and the succumbed to her body's need for rest.

He left then, asking the doctor to relay any news of her condition to either him or Wolfwood.

As he stepped through the doors of the hospital, back into the open air, he felt lighter and happier than he had since arriving at July. It wasn't much of a forgiveness, wasn't much of a redemption but it was a start.

Authors Notes: Sorry for such a short chapter, the next one will be longer though. I promise!

Review Replies:

Stonehart: Thanks!

Mangaqueen13: Sorry about giving you the chills, I hope you warm up again soon! (:

ChibiSess: No prob, and to be fair it is a bit mean to call someone fat. But anyhow, I hope this story continues to please!

Keiko Sonoda: Always good to see a new reader! I hope you find your way back to this fic and enjoy more of it.

LeDiz: I'm very happy that I got Vash's emotions right. And I hope the reasons given in this chapter are good enough. Oh… and do you feel sorry for her yet? (:

NEXT TIME: So… what will the fate of Sara be? The loose ends are tied up and we prepare for the final curtain call.