Note: I do not own Trigun / Vash "the Stampede": he belongs to the incomparable Mr. Yasuhiro Nightow.

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"Broken Memories"

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Chapter 3: Unknown

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Date: Unknown
Location: Unknown

Try as he might, that was the last thing which Vash could remember before he found himself waking up here... wherever "here" was. He'd been crawling away from Tonim Town, and then he'd collapsed in the desert under the combined light of the distant moons.

Going over such things in his mind brought him no nearer to understanding how he found himself wherever he was. It seemed as if he didn't have enough information to draw a conclusion. He opened his eyes, and frowned at the ceiling.

Perhaps he should get up, get his gun, and look out of the window to see if he could recognize anything about the place?

The softly whirring fans abruptly fell silent. Vash tensed reflexively. Any change in the environment might indicate something dangerous in process. He lay silently, alert to learn what might (or might not) be happening.

Almost reflexively, he glanced at the clock. Its display showed "1:22 am."

From beyond the door which did not lead to the bathroom, he could barely distinguish soft sounds suggesting someone walking with bare feet on a carpet. Fabric brushed against fabric. Then metal grated against other metal. A barely-heard sigh. More footsteps, and this time they were coming toward the door of his room.

A soft tap sounded at the door.

"Vash?" said a soft childlike voice, barely above a whisper. "Are you awake?"

Both tap and voice were so soft that they'd be unlikely to wake someone who was asleep. The person on the other side of the door did not appear desirous of waking him, if he were sleeping. So, did he wish to admit that he was awake?

He closed his eyes, tried to relax enough to persuade a casual observer, and carefully modulated his breathing to be deep and even... as if he were truly asleep.

The bottom of the door whispered softly against the carpet as it opened. He could almost feel someone peering into the darkened room. Then he nearly jumped as he felt the emotional echoes of warm affection reaching out to him.

The emotional echoes from a human were rarely even half that strong. A bulb-dwelling sister-Plant might welcome him with similar emotions, though. Why was he imagining such warmth from someone who walked outside of a bulb?

He could hear footsteps in the carpeting, moving toward the window. He sneaked a peek. Again, he needed to suppress a reaction as he watched a slender female gracefully opening the window.

Although she was slender, she had definite (if understated) feminine curves. He didn't know if that meant she was young and still in the process of "rounding out," or if it simply meant that she would always have a slender figure. She wasn't as short as most youthful females, but some girls naturally ran tall. Her back was nearly turned toward him, showing only the curve of her cheek and the silhouette of her pajama-covered body. Her long pale hair and fair skin showed silvery in the dim moonlight.

Her pajamas were consistent with the temperature. Loose-fitting pajama bottoms covered her legs to below her knees, and an almost equally loose-fitting round-necked top with short sleeves was covering her upper body.

Night breezes blew through the window, past her, to reach him. It carried numerous scents. There was white lilac, strong affection, slight concern, early feminine adolescence, and soap. Lesser in strength was a hint of what she'd eaten last, and an even fainter suggestion of feminine pheromones.

He'd learned from prior experiences that, in quantity, feminine pheromones could sometimes make him feel more "drunk" than alcohol ever did.

He clearly recalled the day when he learned that. He had seen an unhappy small child, in a women's clothing store, through a window. He'd only gone into the store to play with the child, and keep him entertained while his mother browsed nearby. Then someone decided to hold up the store. He had been held hostage in a small, enclosed storage room ... for about three hours ... with twenty-three nervous females (some of whom were the staff) ... until he successfully contrived an "accident" which had gotten them all freed.

He would never forget that strange, giddy, disoriented feeling. He'd been mildly dizzy, too, which had unsettled his stomach (not enough to feel in any danger of throwing up, but enough to make him feel quite uncomfortable). He felt uncomfortable just recalling it.

He mentally shook off those memories, and refocused his attention toward the girl standing by the window.

There was no detectable "human" scent coming from her. In fact, there was a scent similar to what he recalled filling his nostrils as he followed Knives through the desert... an indicator of a Plant, instead of an ordinary human.

He could also detect the background scent of the desert, and, if he wasn't mistaken, both grass and the variety of sand powder found near Seeds.

So, if his senses were not deceiving him, he was in a room somewhere in Seeds village... and in the presence of a young, affectionate, free-walking female Plant?!

Impossible!

This must be a dream. Either that, or else he was only partially awake and aware of his surroundings, and his subconscious mind was busily filling in extraordinarily unrealistic details. He closed his eyes completely, again, when he saw her begin to turn away from the window back toward the room.

He heard her footsteps come around the bed, and pause beside him.

"Oh Vash," she whispered so softly, and so gently, that it was barely louder than the night breeze coming through the newly opened window.

When he felt her touch his head, though, reflex took over. Almost before he realized it, he had taken hold of her wrists, thrown her across his body to the middle of the bed, and rolled onto his hands and knees over her. The sheet, which had been over his legs, was now across hers. His knees were on either side of her thighs, on top of the sheet and thereby trapping her legs in place. His hands still held her wrists.

He felt her surprise, and then his own when she didn't struggle to get free. His right hand had slid up her wrist to her hand, and found it empty. He quickly checked her other hand, and found it empty, too. He returned his hand to its former position, feeling perplexed.

The dim moonlight shone upon her from her chin down to her toes, leaving her face in shadow. His eyes were adjusted only enough that he could clearly see what was in the moonlight. The soft, thin fabric of her pajama top conformed to her body well enough to inform him at a glance that she carried no weapons.

He was only holding her wrists. His knees didn't quite bump against her thighs (through the sheet and their respective pajamas) as he straddled her. Yet, even so, he was uncomfortably aware of her body and of that small amount of contact. Stupid pheromones! He blinked, and fought to clear his mind.

Chagrinned, he fell to his side and rolled off the bed. He reached out, caught an edge of the sheet, pulled it off her, and then caught her by her waist. He gently lifted her off the bed and set her onto her feet beside it. Her pajama top slipped up slightly during that process, causing the fingertips of his right hand to brush against her skin at her waist.

When she felt his fingertips, she gasped. "You touched my waist," she said, sounding so surprised that it was nearly fear.

"I'm sorry," he said. "You startled me, and I ... overreacted. I'm sorry."

"I'm not mad," she said, shaking her head and laying a gentle hand on his right forearm. "I just wondered... I was taught never to let a man touch my body. Touching hands, face or arms was okay, but not my body. But now you have. Does that mean... will I have a baby?"

Stunned by the ignorance implied by her innocent question, he was silent as he briefly considered what to say.

"I promise you, Vash," she said solemnly, "I'll take very good care of your baby, if..."

"That's not going to happen," he said, as gently as he could. He tried to conceal his surprise at her complete ignorance on the subject. "Nobody ever got pregnant from being touched only on her waist."

"Oh," she said, "I... I didn't know."

"You 'didn't know'?" he repeated, still surprised. "Surely you're old enough to know that much."

"No," she said softly, shaking her head. "N-my mother said I was not yet ready to learn about it, the last time the subject came up."

"Perhaps you should ask one of the other older women to tell you about it, if your mother won't," he said. "Some men would misunderstand it if you came into their room at night like that. You might find yourself... in a situation that could result in having a baby, whether you wanted that to happen or not. Some men are not gentle about it. You could get hurt, possibly even hurt very badly."

Though older, this child seemed as innocent as Tessla. He found himself wanting to protect her, much like he'd wanted to protect little Meg.

"I'd never go into any other man's room," she said, sounding like that idea was both shocking and unappealing. Then her tone returned to simple confusion, as she added, "You usually don't mind if I come into your room, as long as I don't lie beside you."

"I don't?" he said, feeling thoroughly confused.

Just how well did this girl think she knew him? Why would he 'not mind' if she walked into his bedroom while he slept? Apparently, he had at least protested against her getting into bed with him. That much was consistent, but the rest...

She stood silently, smelling as confused as he felt. He also detected a faint scent indicating that she was exuding more pheromones. He still couldn't see her face, for it was again in shadow.

"I think I'll take a walk outside," he said.

"If that's what you want," she said hesitantly.

"Yes," he said, "right now, that's what I want. Goodnight."

He needed to get away from those pheromones. Outside, there might be enough breezes to blow the blamed things away. Maybe then he could think more clearly.

He walked past her, out the door, and into the next room. The dim moonlight shining through its open window showed a sitting room with upholstered chairs, couches, and thoroughly filled bookcases. As with the walls in the bedroom where he woke, this room also had narrow stained glass windows arranged horizontally near the ceiling.

He walked across that room, and checked near the window. As he had anticipated would be likely, there was a door to the outside there. He opened it and went outside. He walked through a walled-in yard, out of it through a gate, along a walkway, and then down the steps to the grassy area.

He heard footfalls behind him. A quick glance informed him that his suspicion was correct: the girl was following. He redirected his gaze forward, choosing to pay no further heed to the sound nor to what it meant. The girl was, perhaps, curious. Since she was harmless (and probably only a dream, no more substantial than the moonlight), he had no objection if she followed him.

As those thoughts crossed his mind, he realized he hadn't brought his revolver. Oi! Weariness, or else those pheromones (or perhaps both), were interfering with his thinking. Even at Seeds, he usually kept his pistol with him.

Ah, good. The large tree still stood where he remembered it, not far from the center of the grassy area between the ship and the cliffside dwellings. A number of smaller trees were growing off to one side, near one end of the field. Those were new. Odd that he would dream up more trees at Seeds. He returned his attention to the large tree with the hammock. It had been a good place to relax, and sometimes even nap, in the past. He would try to relax there, again, now.

He caught an edge of the hammock, to prevent it from swinging out from under him, as he sat. He seated himself toward the right end of the hammock, nearer to the tree's trunk, where he could swing his long legs around to a comfortable position for stretching out and relaxing. As he sat down, the girl came and stood in front of him - barely an arm's length away. He blinked in surprise as her warm affection wrapped around him again.

He managed to reciprocate somewhat. He felt too bewildered to reciprocate fully. If he knew her, he might. But, as far as he could remember, he'd never met her before.

She held a folded quilt in both arms, hugging it tightly against her upper body.

"I didn't want you to get cold," she said. "It's warm now, but it may become chilly before the suns rise."

"That was thoughtful of you," he said cautiously.

Would there be no end to the surprises from this girl?

"You had a nightmare again, didn't you?" she said with gentle sadness.

"I may have," he said cautiously. It troubled him that he didn't know.

"I think you did," she said. "After a really bad nightmare, especially if it comes when you're really tired, you don't remember me for awhile after you wake up. You can't remember me right now, can you?"

He looked at her, and considered. Her head was bowed so deeply over the quilt that, with the moon shining from behind her, he couldn't see her face. Again.

"No, I'm sorry," he said. "I don't recognize you."

"It's okay," she said softly. She sounded only a little sad. "You always remember after a few hours. You might need to spend some of those hours asleep, again, though. You were so very tired yesterday evening..."

"Yes, I probably should sleep," he said.

"Good," she said, a little more cheerfully. "I'll keep you company. You shouldn't be alone, not when you need to deal with bad memories. Even if you don't want to talk, at least you won't be alone."

"That's kind of you," he said, "but ..."

She sat by him as he spoke, and quickly spread the quilt across their laps. She also put her arms around his waist, and rested her head on his shoulder. She seemed to have complete trust and confidence that she would be welcomed. She shared her affection for him, again.

It was nearly overwhelming. The contrast between the bloodthirsty deputies and this innocent, affectionate young woman...

He could not finish what he'd begun to say, a request for her to go away. Under the circumstances, that would be too cruel a thing to do. He didn't want to hurt her, either physically or with words.

Instead, he simply said, "Thank you."

He felt her arms tighten around him, and he put his left arm around her to return the hug. He reminded himself that this was only a dream, as insubstantial as the moonlight - and as fleeting. He must not ease up on controlling his emotions. He must not...

He allowed his thoughts to drift, briefly. He looked at the stars, at Seeds ship and cliffside homes, and at the grassy area with its unfamiliar trees. Then...

"What a beautiful dream this is," he said, mildly surprised to find himself speaking some of his thoughts aloud.

"It is a beautiful night," she said contentedly.

She loosened her hug and turned a little, to better look at the night sky. Then she lay back on the hammock, staring up at the starry sky with her hands behind her head. She had leaned well away from him as she lay backward, for he sat nearer to the tree's trunk and she wanted to look at the sky. Her legs below her knees dangled over the side of the hammock.

The lone moon shone near the horizon, soon to set.

He looked down at her youthful face, which he could finally see. That face was wide at the forehead, and narrow at the chin, and framed by her pale hair. It was a plain yet pleasant face. That detail was almost too realistic. Wouldn't a fantasy female be beautiful in every way? Then she turned her gaze upon him, and again wrapped him in the mental equivalent of an affectionate hug.

To his mind, that was further proof. This was definitely a dream. It had to be. Nobody would ever be so fond of him, not even an innocent half-grown Plant girl.

"God forgive me," he thought aloud, yet barely above a whisper, "this one time, I'm going to enjoy the dream."

While this dream lasts, I'm going to enjoy imagining that I'm not completely alone on this world.

He slowly lay down against her side, and rested his head on her shoulder. He put his arm around her, and sighed contentedly. It felt good to have someone living and breathing beside him, especially since she seemed glad of his presence there. He gave her the mental equivalent of a hug, since she was still bestowing her warm affection upon him.

He felt her move her right arm, to begin gently stroking his hair. He felt her left hand on his arm. He smiled, from his heart.

Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep.