DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

Their Life

The only music in the little bar was a lone guitar, its slow rhythm plodding through a never-ending tune with no words to break it up. The mood was quiet, the low buzz a far cry from the rowdier nights where patrons jammed in for their dose of alcohol and fistfights. There were a few card games going on, some people drinking and chatting, in the corners a couple illegal purchases that people carefully didn't see happening.

The dark-haired woman behind the bar filled two more beers from the tap and carefully set them down in front of the two men on stools at the side of the bar. The men nodded their thanks and continued their conversation. She listened idly as they talked about the jerk boss who had them on driving runs out this far, and the state of affairs in December. A long time ago, she would have cared about news from the place she had once been from; now, this little village was the place she called home.

She and others looked up at the sound of the swinging doors opening – keeping an eye out for danger wasn't a habit this far away from the cities, it was a way of life. But the one who entered was one of their own, no danger to anyone except his own pockets as he beelined for an empty seat at one of the card games.

The bar woman wasn't at all surprised when another man approached her, his tall presence casting a shadow over her short one. She'd been expecting his entry to be a quiet one, and she alone had seen him slip through the doors and up the side while the others were still focused on the man looking to have some beer and lose some money.

She looked up at her new customer with a smile. "Hey, stranger. What can I get you?"

The tall man cocked his head, seemingly in thought. He was dusty from the journey to this little hamlet; even his blond hair was down and gritted with sand. The trip out this way was not an easy one, and few took it who had any choice in the matter. "Beer," he said finally. "If you've got it."

The short woman cracked a grin. "It's almost all we do have. The two guys over on the side there, they're from our supplier and have fresh liquor in their truck, but they're staying overnight and it won't be offloaded until tomorrow." She grabbed a fresh stein and filled it for him.

He took a thirsty swallow. "Tastes good."

The bar woman chuckled. "Most people don't think so."

"Most people probably don't feel like there's sandpaper in their throats. When you've been out in the sandbox a while, this stuff seems like nectar of the gods."

"I'll leave out the sandbox part and just tell the owner you think our beer is the nectar of the gods."

The tall newcomer laughed and slid her a double-dollar note.

She slid it back. "You don't have to pay until you leave."

Nod. "I know. That's for you."

The woman looked at the bill's denomination – it was a large note. She pushed it back. "You don't have to."

He pushed it toward her again. "But I want to. Something tells me you need it."

She shrugged and relented, pocketing the money. "You're right. Tips aren't always that great around here. Money's not that great here, period."

"That doesn't sound good. Why live here, then?"

"There's more to life than money," she pointed out.

"Sure. Still seems like you've got it rough."

"I do," the woman admitted. "The only way to keep the fire going is to outrun the wind, and that's hard. But I've got my best friend, and she helps. And it's not as bad a place to live as you might think. People here are a little rough around the edges, but they're good at heart."

The blond man propped his head on his off hand. "That's good." Gave her a lazy smile. "You're pretty."

It wasn't completely obvious, but her cheeks did tinge light pink. "Thanks for the compliment."

"So what's a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?"

She smirked at him. "Oh, you know. Fell for a guy a while back, followed him hither and thither. Now I'm here, just serving beer for low wage and tips. You?"

His eyebrows raised. "Me? I travel around, take different jobs. Mostly I get shot at for a living."

The short woman snorted. "That sounds like a bone-headed way to make money."

He grinned at her. "It probably is. But I'm good at it, and it pays more than cooking. I've got a woman I have to take care of, you know."

"Oh?"

"Yep." He took off his right glove, revealing a scarred hand that bore a gold ring. "Inscribed and everything. Anyway, what happened to that guy you fell for?"

"I married him."

"Oh?"

The woman held up her left hand, the light glinting off her own gold ring. Winked at him. "Inscribed and everything."

"Here's a crazy idea," he said. "Let's see what the inscriptions are."

The short, dark-haired bar woman's eyes lit up as she smiled, knowing what was coming. She pressed her palm to his, delighting in the warm, rough texture as his fingers laced with hers.

"Near or far, always together," they intoned at the same time. It was their inscription, their reminder that no matter how far apart they were, they were still together.

A soft, sweet kiss was their first real greeting since he came in, the playful pretense of patron and server gone as they leaned across the bar to each other, tasting the delight each felt after so long apart.

She sighed happily. "Hello, broom-head."

"Hello, insurance girl. It's good to be back."

They spent the rest of her shift talking and catching up. He helped her clean up after closing time. Then they went home, wasting no more time in making up for the months he'd been away.

Afterward, curled in his arms, she asked the question she was afraid of the answer to: "How long can you stay?"

He shook his head. "Not that long this time. A couple days, then I have to go again." His heart panged at her frown. "You know I have to. Troubleshooting is the only job that pays well enough to keep sending you money, we can't make a living with anything else. And no –" He anticipated her protest before she could actually start it. "– you can't come with. Milly needs you here. Hell, I need you here, safe."

"I know all that, Vash. I know this is just how it is until we have a stake put together, and it won't be forever. But I still miss you."

Moonlight was streaming in through the window, and his finger tilted her chin up so he could see her face. He was quiet for a moment, memorizing how she looked so he could see her every night when he left again.

He placed his hand on her heart, feeling the soft beat. "And I miss you, Meryl. But I make it through every day because I know I'm coming back to you."

Meryl sighed and relaxed back into his gentle embrace. "Near or far, always together," she murmured.

Vash smiled as he began to follow his insurance girl into sleep. "Damn right."

It was a hard life they lived. But it was their life.