I don't own Trigun, I just had to get this down on paper. The idea came to me at work today, and I just couldn't shake it. Has this been done before? I don't know. I've actually never read a Trigun fic. I'm much more of a Naruto kind of guy. Still, I hope I did this well enough. Review, if you would. I would love you long time if you did.

The Confessional Filled with Mercy

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned." His words did not echo in the small chamber as they would have in the large stone main room of the church. Although large, it was a simple building, it's confessionals made up of wooden walls and cloth doors, with another piece of cloth separating the blonde man from the preacher. The blonde hesitated before his next sentence, a common occurrence in the old priest's line of work.

"What of your sins, my son? Do not be afraid. All of your sins will be forgiven by God, if you are truly sorry."

Indeed, he was truly sorry. He had never had more regret about anything he had ever done in his entire life. It wasn't the old man's words that gave him the comfort he needed to continue, but his soft tone.

Even so, he would still have some trouble. It was the one topic he had avoided above all others for the past two years.

"Father, I…" He trailed off, the familiar feeling of extreme sadness making his throat tighten.

"My son?" The old man prompted again.

"I… have killed, Father."

Ah, the old man thought. So THAT is what this is about. I had a feeling it was so. In this day in age, it was not uncommon to hear confessions of murder. It seemed like the ball of sand that they all lived on, with it's dry weather and unpredictable windstorms, caused people to be especially violent with each other, as life was hard and frustrations often ran high.

"Are you sorry for committing this sin, my son?"

"So very much, Father… I…"

The old priest frowned. "Please, my son. Tell me what you have come here to say."

"I only actually killed one man myself, but so many more have died because of me. I'm a gunman, but I had a pledge to never kill… but…"

The old priest's surprise was hidden behind the cloth that separated him from the young man sharing his confessional. A pledge to never kill? What kind of gunman pledges to never kill?

"That man, before I ki… before he died, he told me that all the people who died near me over the years died because of me. I thought about it for a long time. He… was right."

"That cannot be true, my son. It is impossible for one man to protect everyone."

"I refuse to accept that. There was a way. I just… I just didn't see it in time!" The old man could clearly hear the man's sobs from beyond the curtain.

The old man cleared his throat. "What about the people surrounding you now? How are they?"

Vash's sobs died down in his confusion over the sudden question. "I'm… I'm sorry?"

"They people around you now," he repeated, sounding faintly annoyed, much to Vash's astonishment. "How do they feel about you?"

"…Why does that matter? Does it change my sin?"

The priest sighed. "No, of course not. But it does change the way you will live your life from now on." The priest's voice had raised slightly, and sounded a touch younger and stronger. "God wants you to live your life for him, but also to live your life for others." There was a pause, and the sound of a lighter clicking was heard. "The man you killed," he begun bluntly, "Why did you kill him?"

"He… I… He had a gun pointed at the woman I love. Well, it wasn't him who had the gun, but had control over the one who… well, it's complicated." He took a deep breath, steadying his emotions. "The only way I saw to keep her alive was to end his life. There were other options… there had to be… there are always other options. I couldn't see them… I was blinded by my own emotions. I took that man's life because I couldn't see-"

"Shut up! You saved their lives that day, you know that." Vash was unnerved by the change in the old priest's demeanor. "Your job then was to protect as many as you could, and that's exactly what you did. You couldn't have been expected to a single thing more." The priest took a drag on his cigarette. "You shouldn't feel so guilty about things you couldn't control, especially when those things happened in the past."

"What… what do you-"

"What I mean is that you have to continue living your life for others to earn God's forgiveness. Can you do that?"

"For… Millie… and Merrill?"

"Millie, Merrill, everyone. Keep on with your noble non-killing oath, but remember not to let anything stand between you and what you think is right." He paused for another drag on his cigarette, then continued. "Do you feel like your guilt has left you, Vash?"

"Strangely enough… yes. I was never much of a Catholic, but the guilt has been eating me up, and I just couldn't find a way to get it to go away. I remembered an old friend of mine who tried to get me to confess my sins once. I turned him down. I figured that maybe now it was time to take him up on his offer. In fact, I would have gone to him directly for this… but… I'm afraid he was another of those who I wasn't able to protect."

"I'm sure he is happy for you for finally confessing, even if he is no longer here with us on this planet. May you go with God, my friend."

Vash stood and left the slightly smoky confessional, walking though the church with the feeling like a weight was lifted from his shoulders. Once he was out to the street, however, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Do you feel like your guilt has left you, Vash?"

How did he know my name? I'm sure I never gave it to him! Now that he was thinking about it, he remembered another strange thing that the old priest had said.

"Shut up! You saved their lives that day, you know that."

I thought I only told him that there was one person in danger that day. How could he have known there was more than just one person? He turned to look back at the church.

The suns were very bright that afternoon, and their heat beat down on the ground with a powerful intensity, causing the heat to visibly lift off the ground, giving the air a very rippled appearance. Though the hot air, he saw the priest leave the church. He had dark hair and still had the slightly bent cigarette between his lips. His yellow boots seemed a bit out of place under the navy-blue pants of his suit, and he wore a pair of dark sunglasses. He looked strangely young and frighteningly familiar. He walked off with his hands in his pockets as the wind began to pick up. The cool wind blew away the heat rising from the road, and, with his vision cleared, Vash saw the wrinkles on the preacher's face and the gray that streaked his hair. He walked a touch more slowly, with a small hunch in his back.

There was no cigarette.

Vash smiled a small smile. He had a feeling that he had indeed been forgiven, and that God sent the one person that Vash would have believed to tell him so.