Hey again guys! I'm posting again so soon because I'm going out of town for a couple of weeks starting tomorrow and most likely won't have a chance to update in that time. This new system is fantastic, because now I can see how many people are following my story but NOT REVIEWING! Come on guys, I want feedback! It doesn't have to be much, I just want to know why you like my story or hear about any suggestions you have. For those of you that are reviewing, thanks again, your comments are appreciated more than you know.

Sugar Pill: unless this web site suddenly disappears or the world explodes or something, I have full intentions of finishing this story. So you don't have to worry about that.

Sausuge: All I have to say is that I know you're really going to like this chapter.

LIVING MEMORIES

-A Trigun Story-

Chapter 11: Nineteen Years Older

Inhumanity. To some it is considered a gift. To be free of the weaknesses of mortals, their frailties and insecurities, it could be viewed as a marvelous opportunity. But to one that once held the characteristics of a mortal, one that was once a human, inhumanity is a scourge, a curse, worse than any conceivable disease. To have lost your human characteristics, to have lost joy in the simple things. To know that the only ones that can relate to you are the very ones that gave you your cursed existence. To not be able to tell anyone that cares for you the truth. To wonder what they would do to you if they knew. To carry that burden alone until the end of your days, assuming there is an end to your days. To not know anything of your fate, to spend your days wandering from place to place. To be haunted by memories of the only people that ever loved you, having left them behind long ago. This is the definition of the loss of humanity.

Some, a very select few, are able to escape this fate. The day she met Michael, Frey became one of those few. But those days ended, almost too soon to have really made a difference.

"You're awake."

Frey gained awareness of her consciousness as she heard the cold voice. So she wasn't dreaming anymore.

Her eyelids were heavy, her head throbbing. The voice was that of a man, one distantly familiar. She racked her brain for a face to match the words, but found none. She could remember nothing. Her brain told her arm to reach up and rub her eyes, but her arms failed to respond. She tried again. Nothing. She couldn't move.

The feeling was familiar, like the voice. She had felt this way before, helpless, lost, and completely without control. Then it hit her. She had felt exactly like this back in her room, when he had appeared . . .

Her eyes flew open, burning with fury.

"You!" she cried, as her eyes focused and she recognized the figure of Legato standing before her. His face was blank, just as imperturbable as usual. But his eyes, his eyes held a look that would have chilled her to the core if not for her rage.

"How can you be here!" she screamed at him, struggling to no avail against her invisible bonds. "Vash killed you nineteen years ago! He shot you in the head at point blank range! There's no way you can still be alive!"

He remained silent, watching her quietly with his chilling gaze. She opened her mouth to yell again, but a voice cut her off.

"I see the butterflies told you everything."

Frey's stomach twisted violently and her pupils shrank to mere dots as she laid eyes on the only man she had ever feared. Knives.

He smiled at her, an eerie smile that suggested joy for things other than her safe return. His piercing blue eyes penetrated her own, melting her fury instantly like a pail of icy water poured over a sputtering candle flame.

He walked up next to her, a hand reaching down and grabbing her ear. He turned it roughly to examine her earring.

"I see you still wear that hideous earring," he said, "I always hated that thing." He twisted it between his fingers, as if in an effort to pull it out. Frey pulled herself away violently. Knives moved on, uncaring.

"Tell me," he breathed, "did they tell you of the Gung-Ho Guns?" She found herself unable to answer, even though she knew Legato had completely released his control on her body.

Knives continued without waiting for her to respond. "Our numbers have grown greatly over the years, dear Frey, and more than one of our new Gung-Ho Guns has the ability to raise the dead. Many of our fallen have returned to us through them. You remember Rai-dei," he said with a devious smile, "he is one that has been revived, as is Legato."

Frey's eyes narrowed, though she knew her attempt to look unintimidated was failing miserably. Knives laughed.

"The Gung-Ho Guns have grown greatly in number and strength," he emphasized. "And now that your powers have had the time to mature and strengthen, you can become one of them."

At this suggestion, Frey felt her fear dissipate and rekindle in anger. "Never!" she spat. "You're the one that killed Michael's father, and my parents, and all of those innocent people back in Cerin City! I would never become one of your lowlife followers, no matter what the cost to me." Her voice had lowered as she spoke her last words, and it was obvious that she meant it.

"Ah," Vash's brother murmured, "so the half-spider learned to bite."

Not surprisingly, he seemed unfazed. His face took on a look of slightly amused contemplation.

Frey stiffened as he leaned over so his face was inches from her own. She was unable to turn away from his gaze. He smiled.

"And suppose I could change that."

Frey's eyes widened. "W-what do you mean? Change what?"

"I brought back Legato and the others, I could easily bring back anyone else," he stated nonchalantly, not bothered at all at the thought of trying to play God. "Of course," he continued, "I would only be able to bring back one person, you for them, an even exchange."

Frey cringed as his motive suddenly became clear. He was just playing games in order to get her to agree to join him. Her gaze fell from his, her head drooping. A steady flow of possible names ran through her head, but one stuck out. She knew almost immediately who she would bring back. Her words were quiet, but final and lacking hesitation.

"Bring back Michael's father."

Knives shrugged. "Very well." Then he turned to Legato and nodded. The man stood and addressed Frey.

"Follow me."

Frey jumped to her feet, eager to remove herself from Knives' presence. She took a few faltering steps after Legato, glancing back at Knives, but then turned and walked on with feigned courage. The door closed behind her, and Knives grinned as shadows fell over his face.

"That's right, Vash," he whispered to no one, "you'll completely trust her after she brings back the priest for you, won't you?" He chuckled softly. "And you'll suffer even more when you watch him die again. They'll all die, even you, and all because of my dear Frey."

Frey sat silently on a bench in the back of a large white van. Across from her sat Legato, and beside him a hooded figure dressed completely in black. The hooded man hadn't spoken once, just climbed into the van after them as Legato had informed her that they were going to Tonim Town to get Michael's father, whom he had referred to as "Evergreen's apprentice."

Suddenly the van came to a halt. Frey looked up in surprise as Legato said simply, "we're here." She had expected the trip to take a few days. That meant they had been close all along. It was almost as if they were planning this . . .

The large doors of the van opened. Though it appeared as if they had done it by themselves, Frey knew it had been Legato. He and the hooded man stepped out of the vehicle.

"Stay here," Legato instructed. The only thing Frey saw before he closed the door was a small white church in the distance.

Frey pulled her legs up to her and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin on her knees. How was she going to pull this off? What would she tell Michael's father once he was back? He would probably have no idea what was going on. He didn't even know he had a son. How would he deal with coming back to life after nineteen years?

And what about Michael and Milly? How would she explain to them that he was back? She couldn't tell them the truth. If she did that, they would try to stop her from going back to Knives. But she had to. She couldn't risk hurting any of them by disobeying him.

Her face fell at that thought. She couldn't wait to see the looks on everyone's faces when they saw Wolfwood again, even though she had no idea how she would explain it. But that thought was overshadowed by the fact that she would have to come back to Knives. It was part of their deal. She sighed deeply. At least Michael would have a father. And if Michael just gained happiness out of her sacrifice, it was worth it.

She was shaken out of her thoughts as the doors on the back of the van reopened. A man dressed in a black suit was thrown by the hooded man into the van, landing on the floor. He was blindfolded and gagged, and his feet and hands were tied. Frey's heart skipped a beat. This had to be him. How Legato had gotten him past all of the people outside without raising suspicion remained a mystery to her.

Legato turned to the hooded man. "Your services are no longer needed," he said unemotionally. The man bowed slightly and then seemingly disappeared into thin air. Frey jumped at the sight, but turned away and tried to forget it. Legato climbed back into the van and sat down, the doors closing behind him. Then the van started on its way again.

Frey watched the priest on the floor helplessly as he squirmed uncomfortably. She hoped Legato would let him go soon. For a moment she considered psychically telling the priest that everything would be okay, but she caught herself. Her action wouldn't be missed by Legato. After all, he had the same powers.

After several minutes of eerie silence, the van skidded to a halt again. Frey cringed as Wolfwood's head flew into the wall with a sickening crack, but Legato seemed unaware of it. The doors opened for the third time, and a semi-dark alley was revealed to Frey's eyes.

"You have one week to take him back," Legato said, "if you do not return to our master within that time, the deal is off." Frey nodded, gulping, and clearly understanding the threat in his words. She jumped out of the van, then turned to pull Wolfwood out. At first she was surprised that he wasn't resisting, but then she realized that the force of his head hitting the wall had knocked him unconscious. With a little difficulty, she finally managed to get his body out of the vehicle and onto the ground. She glanced up as she realized Legato was watching her.

"Our master wishes you to take this with you," he murmured, extending his hand. Frey looked down. Her eyes widened in surprise. He held in his hand a gun. It looked exactly like Vash's Long Colt, save one difference. It was jet black. Bored with her staring, Legato lightly tossed it to her. She easily caught it, but only stopped staring at it when the doors on the van began to close again. She looked up as the van sped away, stirring up a cloud of sand behind it. When it was finally gone, she glanced back down at the gun, turning it over in her hands. Why in the world would Knives want her to have this? She had never even used a gun. She smiled wryly. That was one thing Aidan had over her.

Pocketing the gun, Frey turned her attention to the priest on the ground. Pulling out a knife Alec had once given her, she quickly removed his bonds. The last thing she removed was the blindfold, and a genuine smiled covered her face as she did so. She was immediately beginning to like the man. He looked so much like Michael.

Later that night, in a dark hotel room, a man stirred for only the second time in nearly two decades. This time, however, he was actually able to move.

Wolfwood let out a long overdue moan. His head was throbbing, his wrists and ankles sore from his bonds. Not comprehending, he slowly opened his eyes. As he took in the scene before him, the chairs, table, and beds bathed in darkness, he bolted up, shock overcoming him.

"Oh my . . ."

He touched his left arm with his other hand, just to make sure it was really there. Then he ran his hands through his black hair and rubbed his eyes, laughing.

"I'm alive! I'm actually alive!" His laughter increased in volume, a disbelieving laugh that sounded like that of madman.

It immediately died as Frey walked into the room and switched on the light, carrying a tray of food. They stared at each other stupidly for several moments. Then Frey's face broke into a wide smile.

"Oh, Milly's going to be so happy to see you!" she said, suddenly overcome with joy. She walked to the table next to Wolfwood's bed, placing the food on it and pushing it towards him, grinning the whole time. Wolfwood looked blankly at the food, then back at the stranger in front of him. Hearing that name again had nearly sent him back to the grave. Suddenly he remembered everything that had happened before he had awoken in this bed.

"Milly?"

"Yes, of course. She's going to be so happy when she finds out you're alive."

"You . . . you know Milly?"

Frey arched an eyebrow, not sure how he could be missing such a simple point. She opened her mouth to answer in the affirmative, but he beat her to it.

"Look, I don't know what you freaks are trying to pull, bringing me back and all, but you stay away from her, understand? You can do whatever you want to me, but if you touch her, so help me . . ."

Frey's smile immediately faded. "What are you talking about?" Wolfwood looked up at her, his eyes clearly displaying his contempt.

"Don't play dumb. I know you're working for Knives."

Frey bristled. "What?"

"You were with Legato after all, weren't you? I could recognize his voice, even after being dead for . . . for . . ."

"Nineteen years," she said curtly.

The anger in Wolfwood's eyes faded, replaced by surprise. "Nineteen years?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yes," Frey continued. "The same Gung-Ho Gun that revived you today revived Legato a long time ago. I made a deal with them," she said indignantly, "that if they revived you I would join them, once and for all." She sighed, suddenly ashamed. "I guess I am working for Knives."

"Why do they want you to join them?"

"My powers." He raised an eyebrow. "I'm a psychic," she added, answering his unasked question. She looked back up at him, fully expecting to see pity in his eyes.

"You're an idiot."

Frey faltered, twitching. "Excuse me?"

"Why would you sacrifice so much for someone you don't even know? I don't deserve to live, I have nothing to live for. You've ruined your own life for a complete stranger's sake." Frey smiled. Despite his sarcastic and biting tone, she knew it was his way of saying thank you. He probably felt really bad, too.

"Why did you do it, anyway?" he asked.

Frey frowned, thinking it was obvious, but caught herself before she criticized him for his lack of perception. "That's right," she said, as if she had just realized something profound, "you don't know."

"Know what?"

"About your family."

Wolfwood shifted uncomfortably. "My parents are dead, kid. And I wouldn't exactly consider Milly family . . ."

Frey grinned widely, enjoying the moment. "That's not who I mean."

"Who, then?" he asked again, his curiosity truly piqued.

"You have a son."

His entire body went numb. "A-a son?" he asked weakly.

Frey just nodded as Wolfwood's face dropped so he was looking at the bed sheets. He gripped them tightly. "I . . . I'm a father . . . I'm really a father." He looked up. "How old is he?"

"He just turned eighteen."

"Of course," Wolfwood muttered to himself, seeing the stupidity in that question. "What does he look like?"

"Just like you," she replied, "but with Milly's eyes."

Wolfwood smiled, creating a mental picture of their only child.

"What's his name?"

"Michael Nicholas Thompson." Frey placed a slight emphasis on the middle name.

Wolfwood stopped. Milly had given her only child his name? That had to mean . . . she had forgiven him . . .

He looked up at the girl still standing next to his table, smiling patiently. And suddenly the true meaning of her sacrifice hit him with full force. She was doing this for Michael. She was doing this to make Michael happy. He had been able to tell she cared about him the moment she had said his name. She had said it softly, carefully. Wolfwood shook his head in disbelief. She was giving up everything for his son. She was willing to go to Knives, just to make his son happy.

"Michael is really lucky to have found someone like you," he said gently, smiling up at her. He took pleasure in seeing her blush, then turn quickly in a huff. She obviously was frustrated with the fact that her emotions had been so apparent.

"You should eat," she said before leaving.

"Hey kid, got a name?" he asked, ignoring her.

She paused, glancing quickly over her shoulder at him. "Frey," she answered, "and I'm not a kid."

"Frey . . ." he repeated, considering it for a few moments. "Hmm. Isn't that a boy's name?"

"You want me to shove that sandwich down your throat?"

Wolfwood smiled, slightly surprised at her threat. "Hey, I was just asking."

"It's short for Afreyla, if you must know," she said, wrinkling her nose.

"Holy crap. That's kind of girly."

"Tell me about it."

"I take it you don't like it."

She responded with a bittersweet smile. "Yeah, my parents hated it too, after a while." She sighed as she remembered cringing every time her father had called her by that hideous name. It had always meant that she was in serious trouble. It was ironic how much she had missed it when he was gone.

Wolfwood let the subject go, sensing painful emotions hidden beneath her only slightly saddened face.

"Well kid, goodnight." Frey looked up from her reverie, rolling her eyes. She walked to the door and opened it.

"Hey," Wolfwood said at the last moment. She turned. "I think we hit it off pretty well, how about you?" She smiled, but the expression of joy faded as she turned back around. He didn't realize just how short-lived any friendship of theirs was going to be.

Alec grunted softly as he heaved a heavy, cross-shaped and cloth-covered object. He wiped at his brow.

"What is that thing Michael's been hauling around?"

Neither Vash nor Aidan, who were helping load the car, bothered to answer. Tomorrow would be one week since the day Frey had disappeared. Of course, they knew nothing of her deal with Knives, or the fact that she only had four days left to get to them and back to Knives. They had stayed in Cerin City for so long expecting her to possibly return, but they knew the situation was growing hopeless. So they were going to find her.

Alec glanced at Aidan out of the corner of his eye. She was leaning against the side of the car, staring blankly out at the vast expanse of desert in the distance. He jumped as she jolted into a standing position, shading her eyes and peering into the distance.

"I see a car . . ."

Vash dropped what he was packing and joined Alec in following her gaze. Vash shielded his eyes from the sun and squinted.

"Meryl?" He rubbed his eyes in disbelief, then looked back out. "And Milly, and Sloan, and Carly!"

Alec glanced up at the Stampede. "Really?"

Vash nodded. Aidan put her head in her hands and began to moan. "Oh no . . ." Vash glanced down at her and then frowned. They weren't supposed to be here.

Within a few minutes they had reached the city, and since the hotel was so close to the edge of town, they immediately spotted Vash, Aidan, and Alec. They pulled up and skidded to a halt. Aidan did everything to avoid eye contact as Sloan exited the car, slamming his door and glaring at her. She didn't miss the disappointed look in her mother's eyes, though. They definitely weren't going to make this easy for her.

Meryl, however, stepped out of the car and grinned, directing it at Vash. He let his frustration and worry at their arrival fade for a moment, and smiled softly back. Milly was right behind Meryl.

"Um, Mr. Vash? Where are Michael and Frey?"

Immediately Aidan and Alec glanced at each other nervously. Telling everyone about what had happened wouldn't be easy. They both looked at Vash. His smile had faded.

"Michael's upstairs, Milly. Come on, I'll show you."

Meryl raised a questioning eyebrow at his answer, but followed Milly and Vash into the hotel.

Aidan raised her eyes to look at her father, chagrined. He was glowering. Her gaze fell again, this time resting on his steadily tapping impatient foot. She looked sadly at Alec, her eyes silently giving him the message to leave. Feeling incredibly stupid, Alec walked into the hotel and closed the door, glancing over his shoulder at Aidan as he left. He stood there alone in silence for a few moments before moving to the nearest window to eavesdrop.

Sloan exploded.

"Aidan, this is the most stupid, irresponsible, idiotic, and absolutely ridiculous thing you have ever done! Honestly! To think you would have the gall not only to run away from home with the likes of them, but to take my gun with you! What in the world were you thinking!" He paused, taking a few steps toward her, his face red and his chest heaving. "No, you weren't thinking, were you! Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you could have gotten yourself into! You just don't get it, do you! You could have died, Aidan!"

You didn't worry about Vash, Alec, Frey, or Michael taking that risk. She almost said it, but caught herself. She didn't want to unleash his wrath even further.

When she failed to respond, Sloan threw his hands in the air, sighing in exasperation. He seemed almost like a wild bear. Aidan cringed as he turned back around, paralyzed with fear. It almost seemed as if her own father was going to strike her.

"Sloan, please-"

"Don't interrupt me, Carly! Aidan, we trusted you! But you've lost that now! You've lost all of your privileges! I'll just have to take some leave, and tell my superiors that I'm busy keeping my delinquent daughter under control!"

Aidan's eyes were growing wetter. She whispered in a choked up voice, "I was just worried about them."

"That's not a good enough excuse, Aidan!"

"It's a perfectly good excuse!"

Aidan and both of her parents turned in shock to the door. Alec stood in the doorway, appearing almost as angry as Sloan, if that was possible.

Sloan opened his mouth to yell some more, but Alec was faster.

"Do you have any idea what she has gone through to help us! She's been worried this whole time about how you would react! But she did it anyway, because she thought it was right. You should be proud of her and how brave she's been!"

"My daughter did nothing worthy of praise."

"She saved us from being robbed! She saw a group of bandits coming after us, and she shot out one of their tires! We heard it and realized what was going on, but if she hadn't been there they would have attacked us, and we would have had no warning. Do you call that unworthy of praise!"

"That's enough, boy."

Alec ignored him, and opened his mouth again. He was cut off, however, by a stifled sob coming from Aidan's direction.

"Aidan?"

"Just stop, Alec. Please. Nothing you can do will help."

Alec's eyes widened. Then he smiled impudently, his olive green eyes shining. He knew what she was doing. She just didn't want him to get involved.

"Come on, Aidan," he said, slipping his hand around hers. He ignored the shocked look in her eyes, and just pulled her into the hotel after him. He noticed with satisfaction that after a few moments she didn't hesitate in following him. He closed the door behind them, leaving a still fuming Sloan standing in the street.

Sloan spit angrily in the sand, then kicked at the ground and got back in the car. Carly understood the gesture as meaning that he wouldn't be going in. He was so stubborn sometimes. It was highly ironic that it was he that had brought Alec into Aidan's life in the first place. If it wasn't for him, Alec and Frey would have been left alone in the desert to die. Carly looked at him, sorrow filling her normally warm brown eyes. She glanced at the hotel her daughter had just entered, then back at her husband, sighing. This would be a hard rift to breach.

"Goodnight, Aidan."

"Goodnight, Alec," she murmured quietly as he began to close the door to her room.

She looked up just as the door was about to click shut. "Alec?" He stopped.

"Yeah?"

"Um, thanks." He grinned, winking.

"No problem." Then he closed the door and turned, letting out a huge sigh of relief. There weren't many people he hesitated in standing up to, but Sloan had been one of them. He was a force to be reckoned with.

He meandered downstairs. Vash, Milly, Carly, Meryl, and Michael were sitting at the table, Vash speaking.

"So we don't know where Frey is," he finished. Alec glanced at Michael. He looked just as dejected as before, his face dead. Milly and Meryl looked similar, but Carly still just appeared frustrated and depressed. She was probably still thinking about the fight between her husband and Alec. She looked up as Alec continued down the stairs, but the others remained in their previous positions, most of them staring at the table. He walked right past them and out the door, ignoring Carly as she asked where he was going.

On the other side of the street, sitting in the car, was Sloan. He didn't even acknowledge Alec as he walked up. His eyes were closed, his arms up behind his head, a toothpick sticking out of his mouth. Alec took a deep breath.

"Mr. Fallon, I just wanted to apologize for getting so angry." He gulped. He didn't think he had ever had to say anything that difficult. Apologizing wasn't something that bode well with his ego. "I'm not taking back anything I said," he continued, "because I still believe every word of it, but I shouldn't have done that in front of Aidan." Sloan didn't even grace him with a nod. Alec sighed and shrugged, having done all he could to attempt reconciliation with Aidan's father. In reality, he wasn't all that disturbed that Sloan refused to acknowledge him. He had only done it for Aidan's sake, anyway.

Alec stopped at the door as Sloan opened his mouth. "Let's just get one thing straight," he said, still without even looking at Alec, "you'll stay away from my daughter, understand?"

Alec smiled, glancing at the calvary man over his shoulder. "Not on your life."