DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.
Lyrics to "Hold On, I'm Comin'", by Sam and Dave
Flashback
A truck ground its way along a dirt road that could more properly be described as a trail. The radio gave a soundtrack to the lonely experience that was a long haul.
The driver slowed as he spied something in the road ahead. He wasn't one to care about sparing the life of some dumb animal, but he did care about making sure his vehicle didn't get damaged in any way. This truck was his livelihood, and he wasn't about to risk damaging the tires on some carcass way out here.
He eased up on whatever it was. As the truck got closer, he saw it was a man. A man who was still alive, crawling on all fours. It looked like he was determined as hell to get somewhere.
The driver grabbed the short-barreled shotgun on the seat next to him. He didn't have an intimidating build, and he'd been held up on a run just once, but once was all it took to teach him not to take chances. The shotgun went on every run with him, always loaded. He pumped a round, took the keys with him, and hopped out to investigate. Walked up behind the crawling man, shotgun ready.
"Just hold it right there," he commanded. The man on the ground stopped crawling and turned to look at him. His clothes were hanging loose on him, by the looks of it from loss of water weight. Blond hair hung loose around his face, which was drawn and looked like it had been run through a dust storm twice.
The right thing to do would be to help the poor bastard. On the other hand…
The driver walked right up to the man and kicked him onto his back. Planted a boot on his chest and stuck the shotgun right against his skull.
"Anybody out there," he called loudly, "you come out right now or you'll be short one headless man!" He waited for a full minute as silence reigned. The man he was standing on remained silent through the whole ordeal.
"Reckon you're alone," the driver said. The man held out his hand to be helped up, and the driver nudged it away with the toe of his boot. "Alone don't mean clean."
He knelt and frisked the stranger quickly. Took the heavy six-gun from its holster. Only then did he help the stranger up, letting the man lean on his shoulder as they went to the truck. He boosted the stranger inside.
"Sorry," the driver said as he climbed in and started on his run again. "Can't be too careful." He gestured. "Water in that canteen and jerky in that bag. Look like you more'n need it."
"Thanks," the stranger said in a hoarse whisper. He drank and ate quietly. "You happen to be going through December?"
"Yeah," the driver said. "Supply run. Drop off, refuel, pick up, out. That where you're headed?"
The man nodded. "Someone I have to see."
"Must be pretty important to have you crawling along back there."
"Most important person there is." The stranger twisted in his seat to try to rest.
The song playing on the radio echoed the fervent prayer in his heart.
"Just hold on, I'm comin'
Hold on, I'm comin'
Just hold on, don't you worry
I'm comin'…"
End Flashback –
The truck driver, after finding out he was crawling through the desert for love of a woman, had insisted on giving Vash enough money for a change of clothes and a few meals. "Won't do no good to show up looking like twice-baked death."
Everything had needed replacing. He was now wearing jeans and a denim work shirt, suede gloves, new boots. Hair was freshly styled. A couple of good meals, combined with the rest he got in the truck, had returned his vigor. He wasn't completely recovered yet, but he looked like Vash again.
He had made one call to Milly as soon as he hit December – Knives was still unconscious but stable, she and the other not-nurses were taking good care of him. No worry there, but yes, Vash could check in daily if he wished. Please, if he could, bring Meryl back soon. Oh, and some of her favorite brand of pudding! Thanks.
He resumed his mission.
He had to wander around a bit and walk his way through mixed-up directions, but eventually he found himself at Meryl's apartment complex. Marched up to the number written on the address he'd gotten from Milly. Got rid of the breath-freshening mint gum he'd been chewing and straightened up a little.
What should he say to her? How would she react to seeing him?
"Oh. It's you. Get the hell away from me."
"What part of 'don't look for me' don't you understand? Eat derringer!"
"Oh, hi, Vash! You're just in time. Meet my new husband!"
The last one made him wish he had a bottle of antacid.
Trying to plan this out was foolish. He just had to speak his heart to her.
He knocked on her door. It opened a moment later.
There she was. Freshly showered, from the clean look about her. Dressed casually in a pink t-shirt and jeans, bare feet. The scent of lavender surrounded her.
Their eyes locked for a long moment.
She was here. He wasn't too late. He wanted to reach out and pull her to him, hold her just to prove to himself she was real and not just a vain figment.
"I have something to say," Vash told her.
Meryl closed the door, shutting him out.