Thanks again to all of my reviewers. Your comments are greatly appreciated!

ReadingWhiz86: Thanks so much for reviewing consistently and sticking with my story! Your feedback is always great.

Kenta Divina: You're questions should be clarified in this chapter. If not, just let me know and I'll do my best to explain everything.

Luna-Kitsune-Blu: Wow. That was amazing. I think that's one of the most flattering things anyone has every said to me. Thanks so much. I hope the rest of the story isn't a disappointment for you.

Disclaimer: Nope. I don't own Trigun.

LIVING MEMORIES

-A Trigun Story-

Chapter 14: Aftermath

"First July, then Augusta, now September. That man has to be stopped. My home is rubble now. I don't even care about the reward anymore. That man is endangering our homes, our families, our very way of existence. He has to go, for the benefit of us all."

"How many casualties?"

"We haven't found any dead yet, but plenty are injured."

"None dead?"

"I said not yet. That doesn't mean there aren't any."

"Hey, could we get a stretcher over here? I found someone, and she doesn't look so good."

"Is she conscious?"

"No. Come see for yourself."

"Oh, you're right. It doesn't look like she made it out before the blast."

"Hey, maybe she can tell us what happened."

"We don't need to know what happened. Vash the Stampede destroyed another city. What else is there to know?"

"I guess you're right. Well, let's get her out of here."

"Where are the injured being taken?"

"The calvary has some tents set up near the edge of the part of the city that was destroyed. Take her there."

"Wh-where am I?"

A large woman looked at Frey and smiled from where she had been wringing out a washcloth. She placed it back on Frey's forehead and smoothed out the corners.

"Don't worry, dear," she said in a warm, motherly voice, "you're safe now. You're in one of the hospital tents the calvary set up."

"The calvary? What are they doing here?"

"They got here as soon as they heard about the incident."

"What incident?"

The woman's smile faded slightly, her eyes taking on a look of pity. "Oh, poor dear, don't you remember anything that happened? It's no surprise, really. It's a miracle you even survived. You were in the middle of it all, after all."

"In the middle of what?"

"That bright dome of white light that destroyed half of the city."

Frey's body went numb as a rush of memories and emotions passed through her. Suddenly it all came back: Legato's appearance, Vash and Wolfwood running away, Michael being dragged, screaming, with them, and her arm, the arm that had destroyed half of her home town.

She bolted into a sitting position, causing the woman to jump in surprise.

"What are you doing? You need to stay in bed!"

Frey ignored her. She peeled the cloth off of her head and flung the tent door aside, walking quickly past everyone around her back to the scene of the "incident".

Her footsteps faltered and her eyes grew wide as she reached the area. Nothing had remained intact. Pieces of buildings littered the ground. It was one massive pile of rubble. She glanced at the spot where she had stood as the angel arm had fired. On the ground lay Knives' Long Colt.

Ignoring the calvary men that warned her to stay back, she walked to the spot, lifting the gun. She just looked at it for a few moments, taking in everything that had happened. Then, hatred burning within her, she chucked it into the destruction, as far away from her as she could get it.

I can't go back to them now. Not after this. I can't. Not now, not ever.

The black gun landed with a clink on top of a slab of cement, which was cracked and broken. A pair of almost silent feet, held within two light brown boots, walked to it and stopped. A darker brown gloved hand, fingerless and with silver studs on the knuckles, reached down, and slipping its fingers around the gun, quietly pocketed it and continued on.

"Michael, what are you doing! Get back here!"

"No! I'm going to find Frey!"

"Michael, we don't even know if-"

A hand on Wolfwood's shoulder cut him off. He turned to find Vash standing behind him, solemnly shaking his head.

"Just let him go." The priest nodded reluctantly.

"If you say so."

Michael stopped when he reached the site, breathing heavily. Several calvary members and a few citizens were there, but Frey was nowhere to be seen. His face fell and he sighed deeply.

So this was the power of the angel arm. Vash had told him about it, but he had never completely comprehended its full capacity for destruction. He had never seen July or Augusta. By the time he was born, they had been rebuilt, for the most part. This was beyond anything his imagination could have ever conjured.

"Him! He said he knew Vash the Stampede!"

Michael turned to see the very woman that he had stopped earlier pointing straight at him, speaking rapidly with several calvary members. Before he could react, Michael was on the ground, his arms being roughly pulled behind him and handcuffed. He remained silent, too dazed to rebel. A strong man shoved him into the back of a car, slamming the door shut and muttering curses at Michael under his breath. He just watched the man, his eyes empty and detached. The man shuddered.

"People like him don't deserve to live," he murmured to a comrade. The other man nodded, then just turned away.

"Yeah, let's get out of here," he answered, pocketing Michael's cross-shaped gun.

Frey dove behind what was left of a bar as a calvary truck drove by. She sighed in relief as they passed without noticing her, then left her hiding spot and continued on, though she didn't know where to.

She had no idea why she was running. She had nothing to run from. The people didn't suspect her. That had been obvious enough when she had awoken in a hospital under their care. But for some reason she just couldn't face them. The guilt was overwhelming. She knew what she had to do. But that was a lot easier said than done.

She ducked behind a boulder as another car drove by. As she watched this one, she noticed a person sitting in the back, almost like a prisoner. She raised an eyebrow. Who would the calvary have arrested?

"Excuse me, sir?"

A passing calvary man stopped at the sound of her voice.

"Oh, are you all right, young lady? You're not hurt, are you?" he added, noticing her various bandages.

"No," she replied, "could you just please tell me who that was in that car that just passed?"

The compassion on his face instantly evaporated, replaced with a hard, unmoving frown.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Oh, I was just wondering," she answered, as innocent sounding as she could manage.

"We caught him near the scene of the disaster," he replied distastefully, "a woman told us that he admitted to being affiliated with Vash the Stampede, the demonic monster that caused this mess in the first place." His voice was thick with bitterness, almost as if there was bile in his mouth.

Frey nodded gratefully and waited until the man's attention had been averted to something else, then continued slowly on her way. His explanation had made her cringe. The prisoner had to be Michael. There were no other possibilities. And this all meant that Vash was being blamed for something she had done. She frowned, mentally kicking herself.

This is all my fault. They're all suffering because of me.

Her footsteps halted. She couldn't just let them take Michael to prison. He was innocent. He would have stopped all of this if he could have. She sighed deeply, remembering the promise she had given Wolfwood shortly after they had met. This was her last chance to uphold it. And Michael had a right to know the truth.

Wincing on the inside, she changed directions. Her new path would take her straight to the jail.

How? How can she be a plant if she's related to Rem? Unless she isn't related to Rem at all. But that can't be. The names match, and she looks so much like her . . .

"Hey, Needle Noggin?" Vash looked up at Wolfwood.

"Yes?"

"Are you alright?"

The Stampede smiled slightly. "Yeah," he lied.

"What are you thinking about?"

"I just don't understand how Frey can be a plant," he answered with a sigh. He didn't bother explaining his own situation as a plant to Wolfwood. If Wolfwood had once been a subordinate of Knives, he wouldn't require that clarification.

Wolfwood glanced down guiltily, putting on his sunglasses so that Vash couldn't see his eyes.

"Um, Vash, there's something you should know about Frey." Vash glanced up at him, confused, but waiting silently for an answer. "It wasn't one of her friends that revived me," the priest continued, "it was a Gung-Ho Gun."

Vash stopped dead. Is he, is he implying that Frey is working for . . . Knives?

Wolfwood didn't miss the look on Vash's face, so he quickly continued. "Knives made a deal with her, that if he brought me back, she would join them. He wants her because of her powers." Relief flooded the Stampede's face. So Knives had a way to revive the dead. That explained Legato's appearance. There were probably plenty of other Gung-Ho Guns working for him, old and new, but at least Vash rested assured that Frey wasn't one of them, or at least not of her own volition.

"I don't know how she was able to use the angel arm, but it probably has something to do with Knives."

Vash looked up at Wolfwood again, a new question raising in his mind.

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I promised her that I'd let her tell you all about it when she was ready."

Vash sighed. "She was supposed to have returned to Knives by now, wasn't she? That's why Legato came after her."

"Yeah," the priest replied guiltily, "I'm to blame for that. I convinced her to stay with us. I just thought that we could handle whatever Knives threw at us, especially with the help of her and Michael and Alec." He shook his head. "But I never expected this."

"It's not your fault. I probably would have done the same."

Wolfwood replied with a bittersweet smile. "Wow, we're actually agreeing on something for once."

"Yeah. Funny, isn't it?"

"So what's the plan?"

Vash glanced sadly at the setting sun. "I don't know, Wolfwood. I just don't know."

Meryl's eyes widened in both relief and fear as she spotted a figure in the distance. It was Wolfwood, but he appeared to be alone.

"Milly, isn't that Wolfwood?"

The taller woman glanced in the direction Meryl was pointing, her face immediately melting into a relieved grin. She ran to him, followed closely by Meryl.

The priest glanced slowly at them as he heard their approaching footsteps. His look made Milly slow, then stop, a few feet in front of him. His face was blank, his eyes masked by a pair of black sunglasses. He stood leaning casually against a wall, his hands shoved in his pockets, and with an already half-used cigarette hanging limply from his slightly parted lips.

"Nicholas, what's wrong?"

His gaze fell from hers, the question and hurt in her eyes too much for him to bear.

"Where are Vash, Michael, and Frey?" Meryl interrupted.

"Vash went to find Sloan, Carly, Aidan, Alec, and you guys," he answered coldly.

"Why?"

"To tell you what happened, and then send you back to December, where it's safe."

"What happened? Where are Michael and Frey?" Meryl demanded, her eyes brimming with tears of agitation.

Wolfwood let the remains of his cigarette fall from his mouth, crushing the ashes under his foot. "Michael went to find Frey," was his next ambiguous answer.

"So where is Frey!"

Wolfwood sighed deeply. "I don't know, Meryl. That's why Michael went to find her."

Meryl frowned, her face burning with indignation. She grabbed Wolfwood by the collar, pulling his face close to her so that he had no choice but to look directly at her.

"Meryl-"

"Be quiet, Milly! Listen Mr. Wolfwood, I want to know what happened! Just tell me what's going on! Was it Vash! Was that light . . ." she broke off, her shoulders slouching and her face falling away from Wolfwood's. "It was him, wasn't it. It happened again."

Wolfwood continued gazing at her with his apparently indifferent expression. "I think Vash should tell you," he answered quietly.

"This is for my home! And this is for my daughter, who you nearly killed! And this is for-" the man dressed in a calvary uniform continued with his blind justifications, accompanying each one with either a swift kick or a hard punch. Vash received the ruthless beating without objection.

"Why won't you fight back!" the man demanded. "Why won't you let me kill you with a fair fight! Curse you! Why won't you listen to me!" He caught Vash in the jaw, sending him flying onto his back, a thin trail of blood running from his nose.

"I'm sorry, sir, for what happened. But there was nothing I could do to stop it. If it's of any consolation, though, you can do what you wish with me."

"That's not good enough! You're supposed to be suffering! You're supposed to be suffering for what you've done!"

"Stop it!"

The man looked up, but Vash didn't. He knew the voice. It was Meryl. With her were Milly, Wolfwood, Aidan, Alec, Carly, and Sloan. After finding everyone else and failing to find Vash with them, she, Milly, and Wolfwood had led the search for the Stampede.

"What are you doing!"

"I'm going to kill this murderer," the man replied, his voice dripping with enmity.

"But he's not a murderer," Meryl quietly protested.

Wolfwood stepped forward, grabbing the man by the collar and shoving him backwards. "You'd be wise to leave now. Vash the Stampede has friends."

"Don't," Vash said weakly from his position on the ground, "don't get yourself or anyone else involved in this. It won't help Frey if we all get blamed for what happened."

The man fell back a step. "F-Frey? Frey Buskus? You know her?"

Wolfwood slipped off his glasses, his steely gray eyes locking on the man's weak brown ones. "This did not happen," he said, his voice cool and clipped. "You don't know anything about Vash the Stampede, or Frey Buskus, or any of the rest of us. You saw nothing. Understand?" He gave the man a quick glimpse of a pistol hidden in his jacket to emphasize his point.

"I'm not leaving," the man answered stubbornly. "Kill me if you want, but I'll get that monster first, if it's the last thing I do." He pointed to Vash.

"You will leave, young man, even if I have to drag you away by your pants. And that's an order."

Everyone but Vash glanced at Sloan.

"You have no right to order me around like that. This is none of your business, so just shut your big trap and get out of here."

Sloan stepped forward, towering over the younger soldier. His face was hard, but barely expressing the anger that was obviously there.

"I have every right to order you around," he said, glaring daggers at the man as he pulled something out of his pocket. "I'm going to count to ten, and if you aren't gone like a scared puppy with its tail between its legs in that time, I'll have your sorry carcass court-marshaled for disobeying a superior officer."

He held something up in front of the other man, who's face instantly paled drastically. He immediately stood erect, his arm raised in a salute.

"Yes, sir, forgive me, sir. I understand, sir." He turned and walked away, his steps quick and bordering on a jog.

Alec glanced at the man out of the corner of his eye. "Wow." Vash smiled.

"Thanks, Sloan."

"Don't get used to it. I won't make a habit of helping your kind."

Vash smiled wryly, wondering what Sloan would think about "his kind" if he knew the truth about him.

Meryl fell to her knees beside Vash's recumbent body. She ran her fingers through his spiky blonde hair.

"Are you okay?"

"You should know better than to ask that."

She nodded quietly, then held a supporting hand behind his back as he sat up slowly. Vash glanced at her, then Wolfwood and Milly, and finally the rest of the group, who were completely oblivious to everything that had happened. He sighed.

"It looks like I've got some explaining to do."

"Someone, help me! Help me, please!"

Two calvary officers turned their heads toward the source of the voice. A hand was visible, clutching a dilapidated wall amidst the rubble. It moved.

"You check it out," the superior of the two said, "I've got to take care of something over here."

The younger soldier nodded, then made his way to the body. He stepped over the wall to view the condition of the victim. It was a woman. He immediately bent over, trying to turn her and make her more comfortable.

"Don't worry, Miss, we'll get you out of here, you'll be fine." She opened her chestnut eyes and smiled.

"Wait a second," the man said, a look of confusion crossing his face, "you're already bandaged. Why are you out here if someone already helped you?"

Frey lifted a hand and rested it on the man's shoulder, her smile fading. "You're right," she answered. "I'm really sorry about this." She gave a specific point between his neck and shoulder a quick squeeze, and the man fell to the ground unconscious before he could even begin to formulate a protest. Frey sat up and sighed, quickly beginning to remove the man's gray jacket.