Post manga, contains spoilers.

I do not own Trigun / Vash or Tonis. They belong to the amazing Mr. Yasuhiro Nightow.

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Stampeding a Legend

Year 0175 month 1 day 4

The late afternoon was sweltering in the Sheriff's office in May City.

Tonis limped to a window, and opened it. There wasn't enough breeze available to improve the air inside the office. Sighing, he wearily returned to his desk.

He nodded amiably at his co-worker, whose face thanked him for trying even though there were no appreciable results. Then the other man returned to filling out a lengthy report.

Tonis had been a sheriff's deputy for many years. Once, he'd been up for promotion to sheriff, but that had ended with his injury. A gunfight had gone wrong, leaving one leg slightly lame.

His slight, but noticeable limp largely locked him to the office. He could ride a Thomas as well as anybody, but he could no longer run quickly enough after a fleeing outlaw. Any hope of promotion had ended when his limp began.

Tonis found himself pushing back his own graying bangs and nostalgically opening the desk drawer where he kept his battered toy pistol. He'd played with it a great deal as a child. As he grew, however, he'd realized just how special it was. This was the very same gun that had once been used to preserve the lives of some overly zealous bounty hunters.

The real "Vash the Stampede" had fired it, many years ago. The legendary gunman had used its soft suction-cup darts to display his uncanny aim. It had worked, compelling the troublesome bounty hunters to surrender rather than risk trying his patience. They knew he had a real gun that fired lead bullets, too.

Tonis would never forget that day, nor the days that followed when he and the other children had played with Vash almost every day. He had permitted them to overcome him, regularly, while encouraging them to pursue peace and do good. The man had continually insisted that he was nothing special, but Tonis was persuaded otherwise.

His opinion on that matter remained unchanged. The imposters that kept plaguing various towns and cities around the world could not change his mind, either. He found it privately amusing that some vigilante had apparently taken exception to the imposters, and was quietly putting them out of business.

One by one, the false "Vash the Stampede" outlaws would find themselves (and often their gangs as well) trussed up in front of sheriffs' offices near to where they had robbed, plundered, and sometimes murdered. The bound outlaws would frequently have a note attached, something that mocked their false claims of being "Vash the Stampede."

Rarely, such bandits would be discovered injured but well-bandaged, bound, and left in front of a hospital or clinic instead of a Sheriff's office.

Eye witnesses had a way of turning up, too. Usually, not long after one of the criminals was discovered at the sheriff's doorstep, one or two witnesses would cautiously come forward. Then more would come, until there was so much evidence that the keys to the criminals' jail cells were figuratively thrown away.

Those witnesses had a lot to say about the activities of the criminals. When asked about the vigilante who brought them in, though, most either honestly had no idea or else they abruptly lost all interest in talking. A very few had been persuaded to mention a tall, lean, dark-haired man seen only at a distance.

There was no talk of spiky hair, nor of a red coat. Tonis wasn't sure what to think. He did recall the news cast, 60-ish years ago, that was supposed to be an interview of Vash... until Vash ran away. In that picture, which was still circulated upon occasion, the legendary gunman had black hair instead of blonde.

The reporter had looked like the same girl who'd been following Vash around when he was in town after the Nebraska people were captured (most of which was Vash's doing). If it was the same woman, she would know whether she was interviewing the real Vash or not. Tonis wondered if she would lie about that.

He shrugged. Vash had been laying low; maybe the man had dyed his hair to reduce suspicion. That might also explain the absence of the red coat. Tonis recalled the man's sense of humor. Those notes, they sounded like something he would write.

On an impulse, Tonis placed the toy pistol on the inner ledge of a window that could not be opened, right by his desk. That left it in plain view from the street.

He had no reason to expect the real Vash to venture this way, unless his instinct was correct. There was no hard evidence to back that instinct, but it kept tickling in the back of his brain nonetheless. He was probably only being an old fool.

However, if the humanoid typhoon did chance to pass this way, and if he also chanced to look into the window, and if by some miracle he recognized that particular toy gun... so many ifs. Yet it was the only message Tonis could leave, without risking his job. None of the others here would understand what the toy gun meant. Unlikely as it was, it remained slightly possible that Vash would understand he had a friend there.

Tonis opened a newspaper with more force than was strictly needed, carefully avoiding looking toward the wall with the wanted posters. If he saw that poster proclaiming the bounty on Vash's head again right now, he might do something he'd regret.

He thumbed through various pages, pausing at the sports section to peruse the outcome of some Thomas races. His late wife's cousin had an interest in a Thomas farm that bred racing beasts, and he was curious if any of those had figured prominently in recent races.

He wasn't foolish enough to place any bets, though.

His thoughts were interrupted.

"I haven't seen one of these in a while," a masculine voice said softly. "They stopped making this model at least half a century ago."

When Tonis looked up, he thought for a minute that he must have dozed off and been dreaming. Never in a million years would he have expected the sight that met his eyes. Not here, not today, not less than an hour after placing the message in the window.

Unbound shoulder-length black hair framed a narrow face with startlingly clear aqua eyes. A face he recalled clearly from many fond memories. That face had not changed at all in the last 60 years.

He dropped the paper and stood up. He opened his mouth to utter a greeting, but the taller man placed a finger over his own lips in a gesture for silence. Remembering where he was, Tonis closed his mouth.

He glanced at the clock, took a deep breath, and said calmly, "A fellow connoisseur of guns, eh? My shift ends in an hour. Maybe we could have a drink, and talk over some of our favorites?"

"I would like that." The reply came with a smile that was also intensely familiar. "I'll return in an hour then, if you find yourself still inclined at that time."

"Oh, I will still be inclined," Tonis said with fervor. "Shall we meet at the bar on the corner?" He gestured in the direction of the specified establishment. "That way, if something comes up and I'm unable to leave precisely on schedule, you can wait in better comfort than is available here."

The man standing in front of his desk nodded, and replaced the small toy gun onto the window ledge with careful precision. "I'll see you then, Tonis," he said quietly.

Tonis smiled as he watched the tall man lower his head just a fraction, and then turn and leave. For daring, that man had no equal. Walk right into the Sheriff's office, why didn't he? No reason not to, aside from several billion double dollars' worth of bounty on his head...

Tonis chuckled and shook his own head. He picked up his dropped paper and did a better job of reading the Thomas races' outcomes.

...

The final hour of Tonis' shift plodded along slowly, but it finally ended. Then he stood to leave, putting on his vest as the day finally began to cool just a little.

Tonis had enough seniority to get off work before the other office-bound deputy, so he waved at that unfortunate as he worked his way through the office. Tonis palmed an extra set of handcuffs and pocketed them, when he was sure the other deputy wasn't looking. Then he left the office and limped to the bar.

It didn't take much looking to spot the tall stranger at the back corner table. He wore dull colors, and was bent over a meal, but Tonis recognized him instantly after seeing him again earlier that day. He greeted a few of the patrons, and then walked as normally as possible to the back corner table.

"Good evening," he said as casually as he could. He found his old heart racing with excitement. He'd not seen this man since he was a boy, and though he'd grown up and was even growing grey, the other seemed a picture of young adulthood still.

"Good evening," his companion said. "I took the liberty of ordering us some Thomas strips and fried potatoes. I hope that suits you?"

"That suits me just fine," he said, smiling, as he took a seat. In addition to the plates of food, there was a glass of water for each. He lowered his voice, speaking only a little above a whisper so it wouldn't carry. "Is this visit a coincidence, or are you here after a certain outlaw claiming that he's a legend?"

"Hmm, guess I need to be more subtle," he said. "You aren't the first to make that guess."

"I think only folk who've known you would suspect," he said.

The wanted man bowed his head. "And that number grows fewer with each passing year," he said sadly.

Suddenly Tonis caught a small glimpse of the high price of immortality. "Hey, man," he said gently, "I'm sorry."

Pain-filled aqua eyes rose to meet his gaze, and then a self-deprecating smile appeared under them. "Not your fault," Vash said softly.

"I brought something for you," Tonis said, hoping it would lighten the mood a little. "Given the reason you're here, you might find these useful." He pulled the spare handcuffs from his pocket, and slid them across the table on the side nearest the wall.

Vash raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting I should put these on, and come along quietly?" he asked.

"Oh, good grief," Tonis said, snorting, "No." He lowered his voice again. "They're for you to use on the bandit, instead of ropes."

Vash smiled bleakly. "Thank you," he said cautiously, "but won't my using them point to you being involved? I don't wish to cause you any difficulties."

"Those are a spare pair," Tonis said. "Technically, they're not even mine. Don't worry about me, big brother. I'll be fine."

"I hear rumors that say otherwise," Vash countered softly. "I hear you try to stand up for an old outlaw, saying his reputation is untrue. Some people think you're a bit off your rocker."

Tonis snorted. "They can think what they like," he said contemptuously.

"For whatever it's worth," Vash said, "Thank you. However, please bear in mind... if they won't believe me, it's not much more likely that they'll believe you. Please, don't dig yourself into too deep of a hole on my account. I'm a big boy. I can handle a few insults."

"I'll keep that in mind," Tonis said, sincerely grateful for the concern expressed. "I'll be retiring soon, though. After that, I'll run off at the mouth unhindered." He grinned widely.

"Congratulations," Vash said, smiling in a manner more nearly cheerful.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Tonis asked.

"I know where he holes up for the night," Vash said. "I'll just go in after he's asleep, cuff him, gag him, and carry him to the doorstep of the sheriff's office."

"With a note?" Tonis suggested. "I must confess… I enjoy reading the reports of what your notes say. Don't disappoint me!"

Vash chuckled softly. "Some aren't so great," he admitted. "In fact, I'm beginning to run short on ideas of what to write. Unless I want to start re-using ones I've used before, and I'd rather not do that."

"I'm sure you'll come up with something suitable," Tonis said, smiling.

With that, he dove into the provided food and saw Vash do the same. Neither spoke again until both plates were clean.

"I should go," Vash said. "I have a letter to mail before I wait for a certain criminal to fall asleep."

"Writing the girl back home?" Tonis asked, grinning. Something in the other man's facial expression had suggested the idea to his mind.

Vash looked at him and blinked, and then his eyes narrowed. "I suppose you could say that," he admitted. Suddenly the wanted man's fair complexion looked a bit sunburned.

Tonis remembered the early days of knowing his own wife, before they married. He also remembered how he'd grown accustomed to having her around, and failed to appreciate her in the days before she died. "Don't take her for granted," he said wistfully. "You may regret that later, as I have."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Vash said gently. "I'll do my best to remember your advice."

He stood and extended his right hand. Tonis stood and shook it.

"Take care of yourself, Tonis," he said. "Have a good retirement."

"I'll do my best," Tonis promised.

Vash nodded and left the saloon without another word. He did pause briefly in the doorway to wave and grin before he walked out of Tonis' life for the second time.

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Year 0175 month 1 day 4

The following morning, the imposter was discovered handcuffed to the front of the Sheriff's office. On him was a note that read, "I said I was a legend, but that was only in my own mind."