Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ The Night's End ❯ Who Wants Happily-Ever-After Anyway? ( Epilogue )

Disclaimer-Well...you've heard it all before. I'm done borrowing the chars for this story though, so all's good. In other notes, I don't own the lyrics to the song I'm quoting either. They're all Mary Cutrufello's, from the song Highway 59.

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Darkness.

Though she was surrounded by it, lightning still danced behind her eyes in liquid flashes of memories not hers.

She felt herself floating, buoyed by a guardian presence beside her, nameless and formless, shielded from the uncut emotions of the shards she came across.

Darkness, feather-bright.

This presence dampened the memories somewhat, allowing her to peer into the stream without experiencing the pain. It allowed her an objective edge... One she almost wished she did not have.

Darkness, feather-bright, against a spray of burning stars.

She saw her. Saw her silhouette edged against the pulsing light of flames, saw her shadowed by the sparks of a million lives. Saw her.

"Rem," she heard him whisper, and it was over... And she understood.

It was Rem. She was the one.

Soaring in darkness, Meryl understood something for the first time. She understood...and it made her wish that she was ignorant once more.

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He felt warm. It was a pleasant warmth, made all the more enjoyable by the fact that he knew, by all rights, he should be cold right now. Unprotected as he was, he should have been shivering in the still of the desert dawn. However, there was no denying the warmth that he felt beside him, no denying the steady pulse of heat against him. The pulse of life.

Life? What? His mind tried to wade through these thoughts, the fog of his sleeping mind impeding any attempts at coherent thought. Cold... desert... Light... Her... Light? Images flashed though his mind, not answering anything precisely, but instead clearing his mind of the sleep. He felt the most rested that he could recall...which was weird, because wasn't he supposed to feel tired? Why was he supposed to feel tired? What was going on? Why couldn't he remember?

>>A laugh, just beyond the edge of his conscience. A cold gleam from a silver gun and a feeling of vague disapproval.<<

An ache deep inside him told him what had happened though. What had he destroyed now? Whose lives had he ruined with that light that he now understood for what it was? Who else hated him now? Hating these thoughts and hating himself for being the cause of so much pain, he snuggled deeper, hoping to lose himself in the warmth.

A soft breath tickled his throat, sending unusual chills down his spine. In a shot, his eyes were open and staring in disbelief at what lay before him. It was the insurance girl--

Don't. You know her name, use it.

It was Meryl, and she was curled against him, her slender form fitting against him like... He didn't know how to describe it... It was like the part of him he'd never known was missing had returned at last from the cold wake of the grave. The only clock to mark this forever was the rhythm of her pulse against him.

How long has it been? When was the last time that someone held you this close? Not since Rem...and even then--

Snipping that line of thought at the bud, Vash curled protectively around Meryl's body. He was prepared to jump back if she awoke, prepared to smile at her anger if she found him next to him...prepared to return his face to that mask, the one that everyone saw as his everyday chirpy self...but for now...

...For now he just wanted to hold and be held until the suns rose to wipe his memories and cleanse him of his guilt...

Breathing in the soft violet scent of her hair, he smiled slightly. It was a sad smile, but then, most true ones are. It figured that the only time he'd be able to get close to her were when she was asleep. It also figured that the only time he knew what he was feeling and what to say would be when there was no one to listen. That was the way his world went. Always had, and probably always would.

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Millie Thompson woke up in bed fully dressed and with a splitting headache. "Ohh..." she tried to roll over and sit up, only to find her shoulder throbbing strangely.

She figured that she must have been drinking again. That was the only explanation for the headache and the queasy feeling in her stomach. But, as her big brother used to say, "Nothing cures a hangover like a cold shower and a big breakfast." Or at least that's what she thought he had said. Maybe it had been a cold shower and no breakfast. Maybe she'd be able to think straight if there wasn't a percussion band playing in her foggy head right now.

Rolling over onto her other side and sitting up groggily, she rolled up the sleeve to the offending shoulder to find out what was wrong. A rather nicely done tattoo of a cartoon black cat winked up at her mischievously, it's jade eyes dancing with inky merriment. She blinked in confusion, before her eyes were caught by an object on the nightstand next to her. The company credit card. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized that this could be very, very bad news.

Sempai does not need to hear about this... Her brain formed the words fuzzily, trying to think of a way to hide this from her partner. No ideas were coming, and she decided that the best solution was to follow her big brother's advice regarding hangovers. Anything to clear her thoughts. But for now--a glass of orange juice.

Swinging her feet over the edge of her bed, she stumbled downstairs, wondering if Mr. Vash and her partner were back yet. She hoped not. Well, that sounded bad. She hoped they were okay, but something told her that she need a little more time before her partner came back to town.

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The bartender looked up in disgust as he heard the newest stranger in town growl at another patron. What was it with these freaks? He'd thought that he'd gotten away safely after avoiding conflict with that big girl and the man (who had claimed to be the Humanoid Typhoon...heh, what a joke). However, here he was, with another dangerous weirdo in town. Honestly, he didn't know how the guy who worked the other shift survived. He seemed to enjoy dealing with the drifters and wasters who invariably made the bar their first stop in town. As he wiped down the counter, he wondered if he shouldn't consider another line of work. He just didn't think he was a people person. Sighing heavily, he flipped the Satellite on to catch the morning news.

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The man in the corner glared fiercely at one of the other customers, his grey eyes flashing steely as they eyed his hard-earned prize. After a moment of silent glaring, the other man dropped his eyes from his opponent's and turned back towards his drink with a sigh.

Noticeably less tense, Wolfwood released his death-grip on the pretzels and took another swig of his beer. Damn straight you're not going to take these from me. He smirked at the other customer's back before noticing that the man behind the bar was looking at him with disgust. It might've been for his Gestapo techniques regarding the pretzels...but it might also have been for the fact that the first thing Wolfwood had done upon entering had been to order a beer, asking for the Vatican discount. The bartender had only given in after Wolfwood had gotten down on his knees and begun to beg. And he hadn't found the portable confessional funny either. By the time that Wolfwood had gotten around to asking if he'd seen a guy in a red coat accompanied by two girls, the barkeep had flat out been ignoring him. Which didn't bode well for a second drink.

Nicholas D. Wolfwood, longtime shepherd to Our Lord's unruly flock ('Blessings or Bullets,' as his motto went), breathed a foamy sigh into his beer, wondering how far he could stretch this meal. He figured that he agreed completely with the Vow of Poverty he had taken when first becoming a priest...but this? Begging for beer? This had to be somewhere close to the limits of where the Church wanted him. After all, this was the third meal he'd had to beg for this week...and with the gas prices for his lovely Angelina? Surprising as it sounded, his luck had been better with that damned Tongari and those two girls. He wondered casually where they were right now...probably getting into all sorts of trouble...with Meryl beating the living daylights out of Vash at every opportunity. And Millie--

Poverty wasn't the only problem that Wolfwood had with his priestly duties. He also had a few problems regarding that whole Vow of Chastity. Ignoring the barkeep's renewed stare, he smirked into his beer once more, very unchaste thoughts running through his mind. Unchaste thoughts centering around a certain long-haired insurance girl--

"MR. PRIEST!!!!" A chirpy female voice interrupted his thoughts, blanking his mind and making his eyes widen to saucer-size. Whirling around, he was tackled by a large shape, and had just enough time to wipe the unpriestly thoughts from his mind before meeting Millie's eyes. "We didn't know you were in town, Mr. Priest!!"

"Hey, uh...honey, I was looking for you guys." He choked, still trying to blank his mind. It wasn't working. Damnable Holy Orders...

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It figured that the two weirdos knew each other, the bartender thought sourly as he watched the priest choke on his beer and the lady (who, according to the other bartender, had been quite generous last night in paying for drinks) pat him on the back and ask if he was okay.

Finally finishing his job, he snagged the morning's paper and flipped to the Classifieds. Hmmm...the sandsteamer Flourish needed a new cook...that was a job that couldn't possibly attract as much freaks, he noted, circling it with a red pencil.

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Meryl woke up tasting her own tears, which disgusted her because she prided herself on her control. She was crying for herself... For Vash... For the people who she'd killed in her attempts to make a better world... For the memories that weren't hers... For Rem, the lady who she knew somehow was connected to Vash... She cried for all of these, the tears seeping from the corners of her eyes to soak her hair and--and...

With a start she realized that she was not alone in her sorrow. Somewhere in her mind she had been aware that she was curled up inside Vash's embrace, but it was a deep recess...one that knew her far too well. This was what she wanted...but this is what she would never have allowed herself, and had she been up to her normal standards of alertness, this would have ended as it always did. That moment of touch, electical impulses dancing along nerves deprived of that sensation--

Had she jumped up first upon awaking all of this would be over and done. A hurt Vash would be looking up at her in confusion by now as she, embarrassed and angry at being seen in a weakened state, stomped off towards town. Like always. But since she had never jumped up in outrage, the chance for a simple escape had passed...and she would be forced to deal with something that she had put off for so long. Something that scared her.

Sighing softly, she caught a hint of sand and leather in the air, overlaid by the clean scent of a cool desert wind. The faintest of pinks traced the edges of the clouds overhead as dawn began to break the horizon. The tickle of the tatters of Vash's sleeve as the wind whipped them past her ear. It was these sensations that she focused her energies on. Immortalizing moments for her memories, she was caught off-guard by his voice when he spoke.

"You're awake," his voice rasped, an echo of its usual self. Still, the tone was not what she had expected, none of his usual antics and mocking gestures to accompany this greeting.

"Yes...is it over?" Oddly enough, neither pulled away from the other...somehow realizing the other's genuine need, and that moment sank into the stillness of the morning from breath to stone in a heartbeat.

There was a pause. "I think so," his voice was weary and he seemed to hesitate before continuing. "Are you alright?"

"Yes."

Another pause, this one backlit as a sun crested the horizon, casting their shadows to the west.

"Thank you," she said softly.

He started to say something, stopped to reconsider...and then, held the moment close before continuing with a shrugged acknowledgement and a question, "Can you stand okay? We'd probably better get going before it gets too hot. The big girl's still in town, and she's probably worried by now." He felt like a jerk for bringing it up, but it was true. Much as he didn't want to get up, the world continued on despite the protests of its citizens.

"Yeah, let's go." Overhead, the clouds gathered and rumbled ominously as they untangled themselves. Meryl stood and dusted herself off, watching as Vash adjusted his gunbelt and did the same. She noted that he consciously avoided looking at the shredded sleeve of his shirt, where the light had come from. It pained her to see him like this, unsure and uncomfortable...and obviously feeling intense guilt pangs. "The town is this way." She pointed and took a step, feeling an odd crackle as she stepped on the desert sands. She was in a shallow crater of glass, she realized, the layer of glass so thin and the crater so shallow as to be barely visible to the naked eye. Containing the urge to shiver, she glanced back at Vash, noting how he stared blankly at the desert floor.

He will understand. Don't worry, Meryl. A voice whispered in her mind.

Steeling herself, she heeded the voice's advice and turned back to him with a gentle smile. "Are you coming?" She held out her hand. Eons passed before he looked up at her. She felt like a fool, but was rewarded as he smiled--

A genuine smile, one that reaches and lights up his eyes.

--And accepted her hand.

Walking hand in hand, through the glass field, they climbed the walls of the crater slowly, only reaching the crest after both of the suns had risen and been covered by the growing cloud banks. Stopping at the top, they looked back down. Any trace of the ship had been obliterated...and gone with it was any physical evidence of her greatest mistake. All she had to live with now was herself. Not that that wouldn't be enough of a problem in itself. But at least the problem had been solved...in large part by the greatest disaster known to man, the man standing next to her.

She couldn't help herself. Despite the situation they had just survived, despite the problems they would face in the future...the irony of what had just happened and the joy of just being alive and not alone caused her to grin uncharacteristically. And she couldn't stop it. The grin grew to a small laugh, which grew to a giggle, and from there into a full-blown laughing fit. Vash watched her bemusedly for a moment before catching the fever himself and collapsing on the desert sand gasping for air and wiping tears from his face.

Sometimes it was just good to 'be.'

"Well, we'd better get going. I have a feeling that Millie won't be alone when we reach town." Vash paused to wipe some grit out of his eyes before pushing himself off of the ground once more, this time with a lighter step and a brighter look in his eyes.

"And why is that?"

"Oh, I heard a motorcycle pass about an hour ago. It had a familiar...ring to it you might say."

"Oh no..." Meryl's resigned sigh caused Vash to grin.

As they walked back towards town in the damp cool of the morning, he casually turned to her with a smile. "Did I ever tell you that you remind me of someone?"

"No, who?" She tried unsuccessfully to keep the curious tone out of her voice.

"Her name was Rem. She--she was a lot like you. In fact, up until recently I thought that I was only seeing you as her, and not completely as yourself. This worried me...until-"

A second's pause, caught and carried by an almost hesitant query, "Until?"

"Until I realized," he turned to her with a merry twinkle in his eyes and a stupid grin on his face, "That you're a lot meaner."

"WHA-A-A-A-TTTT??!!!!" She managed to knock him to the ground, hit him on the head, and stomp off, leaving him to rub his head in pain.

"OWWWW....SEE? SHE NEVER WOULD HAVE DONE ANYTHING LIKE THAT!!" He whined in that shrill voice that he reserved for her punishments. Unknown to the other, their grins were mirrored as they made their way. Everything would be alright.

Far behind the joking complaints and the good-natured banter of the two companions on their journey back towards the town, and those who awaited them there, a lone drop fell from the heavens. Cooling rapidly in the atmosphere, it fell as a single jewel from the clouds onto the parched earth below. Soon after, another fell. And then another, followed by more. Quickening, the drops became a shower and then a downpour, falling upon the glass crater to slide to the bottom in a growing pool of the clear liquid.

Every journey is a circle...and every end is a beginning of something new and different.

And from every disaster, there is always at least one good thing that comes. It is only up for those who remain to find it.


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(Let it rain) let your love
(let it rain) let your love
(let it rain) fall over me

(Let it rain) let your love
(let it rain) let your love
(let it rain) come set me free

(Let it rain) let your love
(let it rain) let your love
(let it rain) fall over me

let it rain
let it rain

I'm not sure I'll feel like this tomorrow
when I can stand alone again
so please don't tell her that you've
found a new direction
and I won't tell her where you've been

my feelings all my thoughts betray
I can't believe I feel this way

let it rain
let it rain

Somewhere, Rem smiled.

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Author's note: *deep sigh of disgust* Okay, there's a reason I don't do fluff...or romance for that matter. My friends tell me that I don't really have a romantic bone in my body. So...THIS--This thing is the result of me angsting over how best to end the story and appease all of the V/M followers who were asking for a happy ending. The W/M ending I didn't mind...but it sucked trying to end off the Vash and Meryl's story. Now, on to that other fic. *Deep sigh.* Ick.