Nicholas leaned against a post, gazing across the porch to the dusty road. The air relaxed his lungs, the
stagnant atmosphere surrounding Legato choked him, worse than a thousand cigarettes. He reached into the
inside pocket of his coat and pulled out a match and a cigarette.
The image of Legato and Midvalley pawing each other in front of the Gung Ho Guns burned into
his mind, replaying itself as though Legato was forcing it into his mind. But if that were so, it would be much
worse.
This debt is getting ridiculous. If I stick around much longer I’m gonna go nuts, just like the rest
of them. He took a long drag, filling his lungs with smoke till they burned. Leaving the cigarette in his lips,
he looked down at his hands.
Red.
I can’t take this. He stepped off the porch, pushing his feet through the dust and striding to his
motorcycle, the cross waiting for him.
“You can’t escape. Your duty to him will follow you where ever you go.”
“Butt out, OneEye.” He seated himself on the bike.
Dominique’s figure barely registered at his side before he was kicked off the bike.
“You know better than to challenge me like that, Chapel.”
He coughed as the dust settled on him, his cigarette still burning between him and the bike. Without
looking, he could see her standing over him, her dark hair waving below her pale hat, framing her white face
and single sparkling eye. Glaring with distaste and superiority. “You’re nothing without that cross of yours.
It’s the only thing that gives you strength. How amusing since you don’t even practice the religion you lean
on. You beat people with your crutch. Some holy man you are. A man of the cloth who’s stained that cloth
with the blood of so many sheep. You save them by sending them to a god that doesn’t exist. How can you
bear to be in the site of a cross when by your own law you should be nailed to one. You’re not fighting with
us, you’re fighting with yourself. It won’t ever stop. Your orphanage-” She stopped in mid sentence and
Nicholas finally looked up, searching her face. It was pulled back like a child’s, caught doing something
wrong and being scolded for it.
“Don’t listen to her. If you want to go somewhere, by all means go. I’d hate to hold you here
against your will. I’m not one to promote suffering.”
Nicholas pulled himself to his feet, feeling Legato’s eyes on him. Dominique stood her ground for a
moment longer, then, running her hand under the curtain of hair to slide a finger across the metal fixture, she
walked past him without a single glance. He remained with his back to the house, waiting for further
permission and whatever terms under which he was allowed to leave the blue haired man’s presence.
More killing.
“Turn around, Chapel.” The name was his biggest hold on him, rubbing his sins further in his face.
A priest should never have anything to confess.
He turned slowly, heavy footsteps marking Legato’s decent to meet him in the dust. He cocked his
head to one side, blue strands falling over the twin gold suns, then brought his hands up in front of him,
holding a small black strip between them.
Nicholas made no move to take the offer, a sliver of silver glinted in the sun.
Why didn’t it ever rain?
“Here, I want you to have this. It’s a present.” Still no reaction. “I promise it won’t kill you.” He
sighed and stepped forward, stretching it out in front of the priest, a silver cross hung from the velvet ribbon.
“I had it specially made for you. Would you refuse my present?”
“No.” His voice barely resisted in his own ears.
“Good.” He leaned forward, gloved hands brushing against Nicholas’ neck. His gaze trailed off to
Midvalley, leaning on one of the porch pillars, a grin spread across his womanizing face, one hand tucked in
his pink shirt. Nicholas dropped his eyes as he felt the cold fingers slide off his neck and down his chest, the
choker tied surprisingly gently around his neck.
“So do you like it?” Nicholas found his hand feeling the smooth metal now resting against his collar
bone. “I figured it was rather appropriate for you. Something to remind you of me while you enjoy some
time off.”
He looked up. “You don’t want me to do any job for you?”
“Do you think I always want something in return? Hardly. No, you are free to go where you will,
do what you like. You’ll return to me when I need you.”
Nicholas took the hint and turned, walking slowly to his bike.
“However...” He stopped, close enough to rest one hand on the clutch. “If you should happen to
find our friend the stampede...”
“I understand.”
“Very good. Midvalley?” Steps retreated into the house as Nicholas straddled the bike. Legato’s
footsteps up the stairs were drowned out by the start of the engine. He dug his shades out of his inner jacket
pocket and glared off at the horizon.
That’s where I’m going. I don’t care. He brought his other foot up as the bike lurched off into the
dust. Despite the wind in his hair, he could still hear the whine of the saxophone, chasing him across the
desert.
Millie looked over at Meryl. She was staring out the window as usual, paper work slightly
fluttering under her hands from the breeze. She sighed and dumped her head into one hand. Why’s she so
sad all of a sudden? We found Vash The Stampede, that’s what we came here for. Ever since she realized it
really was him, she’s been so quiet. I wonder why.
“Hey Meryl...”
“Yes Millie?” She looked over her shoulder to where Millie was sitting on the bed, her papers
scattered about her.
Millie searched her friend’s eyes, whatever sadness had been there was gone, now she looked like
the same partner she’d been working with for the past four years. “Um...” She suddenly didn’t want to ask
her question any more. “How much longer do we have to follow Vash, anyway?”
“Until Head Office no longer considers him a threat, I guess. Why?”
“No reason.” She turned back to her papers, the words running all over the page under her lack of
attention. “Meryl?”
“Yes, Millie?”
“Why does Head Office think he’s a threat? He seems like such a nice guy. Really good. I mean any
time there’s been trouble, Vash has done his best to help everyone. You saw it yourself. He has a good
heart.” She looked back to her friend.
“I don’t know, Millie. I just don’t know.” She faded away again, showing Millie the emptiness in
her eyes again.
“What’s wrong Meryl?” She couldn’t help but blurt out the question, even though she knew she
wouldn’t get an answer. She hated seeing anyone so troubled though.
“What do you mean?”
“You seem troubled. Like you’re worried about Vash.”
“Me? Why would I worry about that idiot? He can take care of himself. In fact I hope he does
cause some disaster, it might slow him down! That guy needs some brains in his head!” Meryl spun around
and furiously attacked the papers in front of her.
“You don’t like him very much, do you Meryl?”
She stopped and raised her head. “Why would I like him? He’s foolish and never pays attention to
anything. Any accidents he causes are simply a result of his clumsiness I’m sure.” Her head dropped again
and Millie knew that would be the end of it. “How are those SandSteamer reports coming, anyway?”
“Almost done.”
He didn’t care where he went. The farther away the better. Away from Legato. Away from the
damned Gung Ho Guns. Away from people. Away from life.
His eyes left the dusty horizon to study a passing cactus, three small holes rotting into its skin. It
looked like a face, round black eyes and a mouth, hung open in an eternal O. Looked like something
spooked it. Nicholas turned his attention back to in front of him, just in time to see the rock slide under his
front tire and hurl the entire bike sideways. He’d never seriously wiped out before, but he doubted the thin
suit he wore would be much protection from any fall whatsoever. His face contorted into a wince as he
proved his own theory.
After the sand eventually stopped him, he was lying flat on his back, one arm pinned under his
back. That probably should have been painful, but for some reason he couldn’t tell.
I wonder if my bike’s okay.
The white clouds refused to answer him so he rolled over onto his chest and looked back at the odd
black lump that was probably his tire sticking up above a crest of sand. Sometime before the sky got too
dark, he hauled himself onto his feet and limped over to inspect the bike. Managing to get it upright proved
to be a waste of time, by the time he could actually see the right spots to check for damage, it was far too
dark to see anything. He plunked down in the sand and riffled in his pocket for a cigarette. He found a
broken match head and struck it against the sole of his boot, lighting the mangled and crooked cigarette by
the time the flame reached his fingers. The spec of light fizzled out in the sands as he sucked on his singed
finger. He decided to pile up a mound of sand behind him and pretend it was a chair. Nothing left to do now
but wait till morning and be glad it never rained in the desert.
It was wrecked.
Sun glinted off the sharp edges that outlined the hole in the bodywork.
The pea green gas tank was about twenty feet away from the frame.
Bits of the engine speckled the sand between the rock and where his bike had come to a stop.
Bits that were completely unrecognizable.
Somewhere between the heat and the stress of the impact, various systems had exploded or given
out. He’d have to call someone to come and pick it up for repairs, but for now all it was good for was giving
the vultures something to look at. He bent over and picked the cross out of its impression in the sand and
slung it over his shoulder. For some reason he reached up and fingered the cold metal against his neck. No
reason to wear this... He shifted the cross on his shoulder and reached up to untie the choker.
It swung everso gently between his hands, glinting sunlight into his eyes. The velvet was soft as he
left it slip from his fingers, catching it again at the last second. He bounced it in his hand before pocketing it.
I met a lone man in the desert, a traveling priest. Nicholas D. Wolfwood. He smiled then he told
me I that I’m a troubled man. Faced with his all-seeing smile, there’s nothing I can say in my defense. Did
I meet this man because I was destined to, or was it simply by a small jest of god? The man’s name is
Nicholas D. Wolfwood, a traveling priest I met in the desert.
“Hey you!”
He snapped awake, and cleared his throat.
“Well, Praise The Lord! Hello!”
Imagine that. The first set of people I’ve been anywhere near for months, in the middle of the
desert, on some bus, and someone spots me. And not just anyone, the very man I was sent to find. Vash The
Stampede.
He was hardly what I would have expected from Legato’s ramblings. Sure he had the red coat,
black straps, Blonde hair, and drowning aqua eyes. But he was no one that I should have been wasting my
time tracking down. He was immature, whinney, self absorbed, and blatantly insane. But beneath what he
wanted others to see, was the man who hurt from something, something he would probably never tell me.
He didn’t deserve to be tracked down. Legato should never touch him.
“Well I’ll be. I’m actually surprised that you could smile like that.” Nicholas turned as the family
left, both children happy with the candy bars he’d given them, practically all the food he had left.
“Huh? What do you mean?” The young man’s smile turned into a question.
“You had me kind of worried. I noticed that you always smile and seem really friendly, but the way
you smile was so empty it hurt to watch you. You’re hurting like crazy on the inside, yet you grin and bear
it. At least that’s this man’s opinion anyway.
“That’s why I have this confessional!”
“DAH!”
“No matter what the worry I’ll listen to it! Just put a coin in here.” He pointed to the steeple of his
tiny church box.
“You’re really good at your trade!” Vash was a little less than impressed.
“I’ve gotta be to make a living. It’s not easy you know!”
Then the robots. The way he knew about the lost technology. Recognized it instantly. I had no idea
he’d try to save the child. Legato tried to play him up as some guy no one could stop. Hardly the same guy
who would face a herd of rouge robots to save one child, especially after being wounded by Brilliant
Dynamites Neon of the BadLads. He was everything and nothing Legato had said. He wouldn’t let a single
life be harmed.
And he was awesome to fight next to. Not only had I been able to go back to doing nice things for
people, but for some reason, with him by my side, nothing was impossible. It was hard not showing how
much I could keep up with him. It was even harder not teasing him. He was everything you’d want in a
partner.
Of course, I was still just pretending. And somewhere, deep down, I knew he could see that. We
both had our secrets. Something that would kill both of us.
It was necessary. But he still hated it. No one should know about him. No one could see his arm.
Especially the priest who was more than he said. Vash tucked the leather straps back into place,
remembering why this place was here, ignoring the smoke still curling past his elbow.
“There’s no one left to protect anymore.” And he let it die under his fingers.
The bus’ engine quietly rumbled across the sands under the moon and stars. “Boy that guy sure had
a lot of nerve. Actually he reminds me of someone I know.” Meryl returned from the bathroom, her seat
now occupied by the pompous priest, now nestled into Millie’s shoulder. Vash was hardly in the mood for
more of her complaining.
“Yeah, isn’t he horrible. I think we should tell him off, yeah let’s do that.” He stared out the
window, wishing Rem would appear as Nicholas had, a glimmering spot of light off in the distance.
Vash ignored the insurance girls’ whining, watching the clouds roll through the perfect blue sky.
“Thanks a lot for all the support Vash. It was a fun and interesting trip.”
“You’re leaving now?”
“I gotta get back to work, ya know.”
“Hey, PreacherMan!” He looked up to the top of the bus. The three men grunted with the effort of
hurling his cross down to him.
He caught it with ease. “Hey, thanks a lot.”
“Damn, that thing’s heavy.”
“That, my friend, is because it’s so full of mercy.” He turned and waved, beginning to walk away.
“See ya later! Try to stay out of trouble, Vash. Everyone around you will be a lot healthier for it, and with
any luck we’ll meet again soon. May you all go with God, my friends.”
And there went Wolfwood.
“And what are you doing here, PreacherMan?”
Wolfwood’s silly re-enactment of the child’s mother’s plight was nothing much more beyond
pathetic, but his smooth talking ways somehow charmed Vash into going along with it, entering May City’s
3rd QuickDraw contest. 50,000 double dollars would certainly appease Clair and her debt collectors, maybe
even score Vash a place in her good graces, despite Wolfwood’s pure good luck in getting there first. The
whole tournament would be a nice change of pace, some time for target practice instead of fighting people
that wouldn’t accept defeat without death. People are stubborn that way. Like the insurance girls.
Maybe if Meryl would have some faith in him.
“Who is it?” He refused to move from the comfortable position he was in, lying on the hotel bed,
boots and all.
“It’s me.”
“Door’s open.”
“Hey, you still awake?” Nicholas’ face appeared from around the door. “The lady gave us a
present! Care for a swig?”
He sighed as he poured himself another glass. “Sorry about all this. I didn’t really mean to force
you into it.”
“Come on, you planned it from the start.” Vash continued to hold his half empty glass.
“Well yeah, but I apologized.”
“The church.”
He looked up. “Huh?”
“You said earlier you that came from a church. Where is this place?”
His gaze fell back into his glass. “It’s 300 iles from the city of December.”
“You bring orphans that far out into the boonies?”
“It’s the only place I’ve got. Kids I’ve met on the way, with no where else to go. Either they’re
parents are dead or they abandoned them. But you know, there’s kids like Neil, I really don’t wanna take
him.” He finished his drink and looked up at Vash, sitting sideways on the chair, completely entranced with
whatever he’d just said. “There you go smiling again. It looks good on you.” He raised his voice. “Hey
girls,” Shuffling could be heard as they leaned off the door. Vash hadn’t wanted to say anything. “You don’t
have to listen through the door, come on in.”
Both giggled nervously as they crossed the floor.
“Well hello.” Wolfwood grinned at them.
“I apologize for eavesdropping, but at least now understand a little better, Mr. Vash.”
“Uh, what?”
“Since it appears that you were forced this time, I wish you...guh-”
“She means good luck, Mr. Vash! Give ‘em heck, all right?”
“Thanks guys.”
“Who’s drinking?” Nicholas waved the bottle.
“I am, oh yeah!” Millie laughed and ran to the table.
“Oh, hey! Don’t let her have too much, all right?” Meryl raised her hand slightly in protest.
“Hey, lighten up!”
There were a few things in life Vash could have lived without, and one of those things was seeing
Stun Gun Millie Thompson drunk. The girl liked alcohol, which would have been fine, if she could have
stayed sober after two glasses. Even that he could have tolerated, if, of course, she could have kept her
clothes on. This of course, amused the priest to no end and he egged her on as much as possible.
Some how, thank Wolfwood’s god, Meryl had eventually been able to throw some of Millie’s
clothes back on and drag her to her room, although she could still be heard halfway down the hall.
“Now that girl knows how to have fun.”
“You sure liked encouraging her. I was almost sick too early this time.”
“Don’t tell me you get sick when you drink.”
“Yeah, it’s not my fault!” He whined.
“Sure it is!”
“Huh?”
“It’s all a matter of mind control, kid.” He leaned back in the chair and tapped his forehead. “Mind
over matter, that’s all. Tell yourself you won’t get sick and you don’t. Piece of cake.”
“I don’t think I have that much control over my stomach.”
“Hey, that reminds me.” Vash watched as he got up and left the room.
Where’s he going? He studied the bottles they’d been able to empty by themselves. Wolfwood had
somehow found more booze than just the bottle of wine Clair had given them. That was probably a bad
thing.
The priest reappeared in the doorway, holding a piece of cake.
“What’s that?”
“Piece of cake.”
“I can see that.”
“Want some?” Wolfwood sat back down and put the cake between them, maybe about a quarter of
the original cake.
“I guess.”
“Oh shoot.”
“Huh?”
“I forgot some silverware. I’ll be right back.”
Vash’s hand shot out and rested on his wrist, stopping him in mid stride. “Don’t worry about it.”
Wolfwood studied the blonde’s face, parts of his deeper self shinning through his eyes.
They shut suddenly. “That’s why God gave us fingers!”
“Right!” Wolfwood sat back down.
“This sure is nice of you sharing the cake with me, Mr. Wolfwood.”
He sucked his finger clean then looked across the table. “Well I already ate the rest of it. And don’t
call me that. There’s no need for formalities here.”
“Then what should I call you, PreacherMan?”
“My name’s Nicholas.”
“And mine’s Vash.” He thrust his left hand across the table, his right still supporting a glob of icing.
“Since we were never actually introduced.”
“Oh, I guess we weren’t. Very well, it’s nice to meet you, Vash.” He took his hand.
“Nice to meet you, too.” Vash’s grip was firm but not crushing, just enough to show he meant it.
His hands were warm, unlike Legato’s.
“Nicholas?”
His eyes snapped up to meet the pair focused on him. He forced thoughts of the blue-haired
nightmare out of his mind. This guy’s too nice to be the one Legato’s after. Other than the six billion
bounty on his head, dead or alive, who would want to kill him? He wouldn’t hurt a fly.
“Are you going to want your hand back any time soon?” The aqua eyes blinked.
“Oh, yeah.” He pulled away and scooped another handful of cake into his mouth. “Ya know, you
sure are an interesting person, Vash.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, for one thing, you chase girls like you’ll never see another one, yet you have one right next
to you that’s falling all over you.”
Vash looked down at the wood grain of the table. He was sitting face on to Nicholas now and he
rested his head in his hands. “I just want people to be happy. If I can at least give them something to look
back on and laugh then I know I’ve given them something to smile about.”
“Then why not Meryl?”
“I can’t let her get close to me. Everyone that gets close to me gets hurt...” He trailed off, sad
memories showing through his eyes.
“I understand.” Nicholas reached out a hand to his shoulder, causing Vash to look up into the dusty
blue eyes. “The only reason you’ve been proclaimed the worst type of womanizer is cause you’re the type
that fails all the time!”
“That’s hardly fair!” Vash sat back up.
“Well you can go right ahead and make up some excuse that you want people to be happy, but
everyone cares about themselves more, deep down.”
“I don’t.”
“That’s not possible.” Nicholas shut his eyes, his face pulled serious. “You couldn’t have survived
this long if you don’t put yourself above others.”
“Life’s funny that way.” His voice was so quiet, Nicholas opened his eyes and studied his face,
wishing for a moment to know just what this legendary outlaw had lived through to get here. He caught
Nicholas off guard as he began to undo the buttons on his jacket. He stood up and threw the jacket onto the
hook on the wall. The end of his grey and black long sleeved shirt pulled up over his head to reveal a
patchwork of scars and metal plates, lining his stomach and chest.
Nicholas stood, coming around the table to get a better look at Vash. Lines, crosses, and various
types of stichmarks covered his pale flesh, varying shades of pink between old and new scars. The wound on
his left side was still red, still healing into another scar. More than one metal plate covered areas that must
have been severely damaged, even worse than the chunk missing out of his left shoulder.
Vash’s eyes snapped open as he felt a cool finger trace one of his scars. He looked at the slightly
shorter man, his eyes fixed on his body, mouth slightly parted as if trying to swallow what he was seeing.
Nicholas’ finger ran along the scar, which slid down his rib cage and past his navel, ending somewhere
beyond his waist.
“Nicholas...” His voice was a mere whisper. The dark blue eyes raised to meet his again. “That
tickles!” He squirmed, his arms still in his sleeves, with the rest of his shirt behind his neck.
The priest’s eyes shone, something Vash had begun to learn meant trouble. “Oh really! Well what if
I do...this!!” He grabbed Vash by both his ribs and assaulted his skin.
“Ah! No fair!” He squirmed under his restricting shirt.
“What, can’t fight back? Don’t think I’m gonna go easy on you!”
Vash tried to dodge out of his grip but the pepper-haired man was as quick as he was. He came
back around the table and danced across the floor, reluctant to free himself from the protection of his shirt.
He stumbled over one of Millie’s shoes, forgetting they’d been discarded half way through the evening, and
he lurched backwards onto the bed. Nicholas fell neatly on top of him, arms now pinned under Vash’s back.
The shirt had slipped back over his head, and was now inside out, lying on Nicholas’ back, still
clinging to Vash’s wrists. He seemed to be the only one that noticed.
“Whoops, sorry about that, got a bit carried away.” Nicholas pushed off the bed with his knee as
Vash arched slightly to release his arms. He finally noticed the shirt as it fell on the floor. He turned back and
grinned at Vash, eyes closed. “Now you have no excuse to hold back.” His eyes opened.
Vash felt his face grow hot as the other man’s eyes ran along his left arm. Metal from the shoulder
down, it only ended where his own hand still existed at the wrist. Tubes and wires randomly circled it, the
metal a dark black, almost iron. Few replacement limbs could be created now, little own any as advanced as
this, and there was a good reason for that.
Vash The Stampede.
He shut his eyes and turned his head. He never let people see his arm. They weren’t used to seeing
something so robotic grafted into the flesh of a human being. It sacred them away. One more way for Vash
to remain lonely. He sighed, the priest would have been interesting to get to know, but this time he probably
wouldn’t see him again.
Everyone leaves before I can say Goodbye.
Wolfwood’s eyes moved back to his face, now wrinkled up in pain.
“Vash...” This time it was Nicholas’ voice that was a bear whisper.
Vash winced again and pushed his cheek against the blankets. “You don’t have to say anything.”
“Vash.” Slightly louder.
But he didn’t care. He didn’t want questions. He didn’t want excuses. He didn’t want empathy or
sympathy or anything like that. What he wanted didn’t exist.
The floorboards creaked, telling him Nicholas had moved. Of all the people Vash had ever met, he
was one of the few Vash had trouble following. And one thing that Vash couldn’t stand was not knowing
exactly where people near him were. He opened his eyes and looked as far as he could without turning his
head, then looked to the other side of the room. The priest was nowhere to be seen, yet still in the room.
Vash sat up, then looked down in front of him. Crouched on the floor, Nicholas wore a smile that melted
Vash more than anything the raven-haired man had done before.
“I knew I’d get you to look at me.”
Vash starred with wide turquoise blue eyes, swimming with energy, completely innocent and
curious, like a child. His look alone broke Wolfwood from his position and he leant forward, placing a hand
on either side of Vash on the bed.
“Nicholas...” His face was so close, their breath tickled the smallest hairs on each other’s face.
“You’re Vash The Stampede, and nothing else matters.” With that he stood, his eyes shut and his
face cast down. Vash blinked up at him, then did the only thing he could think of.
Wolfwood’s eyes snapped open as he felt Vash’s arms wrap around his torso, his face pressed
against the button on his suit jacket. It was so odd, having a man’s arms wrapped around him. Yes, Legato
had taken his random indulgences out on Nicholas, but this wasn’t anything remotely like that. Never had a
woman’s arms even felt so...perfect.
He brought his hands down on Vash’s shoulders, sliding them over the mixture of soft skin and
scar. Vash nudged his stomach and leaned against him as Nicholas rubbed his shoulder blades. He brought
his hands over his shoulders and up his neck, pulling the blonde’s face up to his, bringing him off the bed.
Vash’s face grew hot between the preacher’s hands and he found himself caught in the dark, dusty blue eyes.
“Nich...” The rest of his voice died somewhere in his throat.
“I like that, Nik.” He leaned in and kissed the somewhat stunned gunman on the nose.
Vash’s whole body stiffened, refusing to move, then exploded all at once. His head raised and their
lips met softly, hardly pressed at all, yet deep inside it felt as though the earth had fallen away. Vash brought
his hands up the dark jacket and into even darker hair. Nicholas tasted like tart berries and cigarette
smoke.They must have left earth, sprouted wings and become angels, that was the only way Vash could
explain why he couldn’t feel the floor beneath them.
Wolfwood pulled him closer, the fingers on the back of his neck setting all the hairs on his body on
end. Slowly, he broke the embrace, feeling Vash’s head tilt forward after his, then finally the deep eyes
opened again, all the pain and sorrow beyond what Vash kept hidden seemed to vanish, leaving clear eyes.
So clear.
“Nik...”
“Yeah?” His mouth was dry and the word left his lips in nothing more than a whisper.
Vash leaned back, pushing down against Nicholas’ back, drawing him down onto the bed. He
stepped forward and put his knee on the edge of the bed, letting Vash pull him on top of him. Once Nicholas
had positioned his legs where he was comfortable, Vash wrapped his arms around his neck and brought his
mouth up to cover the other. Velvety and warm, their lips slipped over each other’s moving just far enough
not to break contact. Vash let his hands slip into Nicholas’ hair again, exploring the silken locks, letting it
slide through his fingers, so much softer than he could ever imagine. Wolfwood moaned and pulled his head
up, Vash’s eyes open and his hands frozen in his hair.
“Fuck...”
“What is it?” Vash blinked, afraid he’d done something wrong. He didn’t exactly know what he
was doing but he figured there wasn’t too many wrong ways to go about things, he wasn’t well practiced
but he was at least well informed.
“Never in a million years.” He abruptly caught Vash’s mouth again and shifted just so that his chest
was pressed against the other man’s bare skin. He raised one of his arms, trying to throw off the jacket while
still caught against Vash’s mouth. Vash opened his eyes and dropped his head to the mattress, reaching up
and pulling the sleeve off. Nicholas sat up, shifting all his weight to Vash’s crotch, and tossed the jacket to
one end of the bed. Vash felt himself reacting to the weight of the other man on top of him, and wondered
for a split second if it was because of the booze. He lost the thought as he watched Nicholas unbutton the
white shirt, his own flesh as pale as Vash’s. Before the shirt was completely off, Nicholas jerked slightly as a
second pair of hands began roaming over his chest, lightly touching bare skin, discovering a few of the
priest’s own scars. The shirt flew across the room and they were kissing again, this time Nicholas parted
Vash’s lips with his tongue, slipping into the warmth of the blonde’s mouth. Vash’s tongue curled around
the new presence in his mouth, before snaking into Nicholas’ mouth, running over the roof of his mouth and
stroking his tongue. Wolfwood’s bare chest pressed against his own, and Vash felt the other man’s erection
press into his thigh as arms wormed under his back and forced him to arch up, their abdomens pressing
together now. Nicholas shivered as the cold metal mesh on Vash’s chest began to warm against his pecs.
Every part of Vash’s body that was usually so damned ticklish was now insanely sensitive. His
breath was hitched as Nicholas’ mouth left his and traveled across his cheek, breath washing into his ear. He
ran his hands firmly over the muscles in Nicholas’ back as the mouth now closed over his earring, flicking
the metal hoop against teeth, causing his legs to twitch. The mouth moved away, pulling his earring slightly
between teeth before releasing it, then the warmth ran down his neck and he felt Nicholas’ lips just above his
collar bone. He arched even further against the body on top of him, begging for everything he could get. It
wasn’t a lack of companionship, it was a surplus of trust and comfort and everything else Vash had
forgotten how to feel.
His pants began to bother him and he shoved Nicholas beside him onto the bed. Dark blue eyes
fixed him questioningly as he rose from the bed. A grin seeped across the other man’s face and he stretched
out on the bed, watching Vash peel himself out of his strapped leather pants. He squirmed, entirely too eager
to wait going through all the buckles, and eventually tore the pants down to his ankles, kicking them and the
boots and his underwear off across the floor. He hopped back onto the bed on his knees, smiling as Nicholas
rolled onto his back and shrugged his own pants onto the floor. He leaned forward and their mouths met as
Nicholas moved to sit up on the bed, wrapping his arms around Vash, pulling him onto his lap.
Vash moaned softly into Wolfwood’s mouth, feeling his nipples brush against the other chest. Their
skin felt perfect together, and he wanted to cover every inch of himself in Nicholas. His hands slid over
Nicholas’ ribs and he brought his nails up to the front of his chest quickly. Nicholas gasped and dug his
fingers into the spiky hair, ruffling it under his hands. He could feel the blonde’s arousal rubbing against his
own and he began to grin their hips, sucking in air as Vash matched his rocking. He left his face drop against
Vash’s chest, and Vash raised his head to the cooler air around their bodies. He held himself up with one
hand and moved his legs behind Nicholas, grinding down on the other man, who let out another gasp and
shoved Vash down against the mattress, gripping his shoulders almost hard enough to bruise him. He
brought his legs behind him and forced his knees between Vash’s, spreading his legs. He moved one hand to
Vash’s thigh, roaming over his flesh teasingly and cupping his ass. Vash moaned louder and squirmed,
arching up against Nicholas, leaving a thin wet trail above the other man’s navel. Nicholas brushed his cheek
along the metal and scars, then ran a trail of kisses back to Vash’s mouth. The blonde’s hands tousled
Nicholas’ hair, pressing needly and trying to disguise the shaking body beneath him. Wrapping his free arm
under Vash’s shoulder, he moved his fingers from the tight butt to his opening, rubbing his palm just behind
his balls.
Vash nearly cried out, wrapping his legs around Wolfwood and pushing into his hand. His vision
was swimming and he shut his eyes, his breath hitched as he felt a finger probe inside him, then two, rubbing
against the wall of his rectum.
“Nik!” He gasped, digging his nails into the other man’s back, burying his length between their
stomachs. Wolfwood looked up at him, catching his aqua eyes before he lunged up and clamped his mouth
onto Vash’s neck, simultaneously entering him.
Vash cried out despite himself, knowing the hotel walls were thin but he couldn’t help it. The pain
stretched into pleasure as Wolfwood’s thrusts hit parts inside of him that he’d never felt before. Stars danced
in front of his eyes before he shut them tight and bore down on Nicholas, who moaned into his neck and
began to bite into him. He was lost in a wave of pleasure as he felt a hand encircle his length and stroke him,
matching the pace of the thrusts. Finding what strength remained in his legs, he arced his back and bridged
what little gap remained between them, letting him deeper and deeper.
Nearing the end, Nicholas gave one final bite to Vash’s neck before bearing down on him,
vigorously pumping away, stroking him off at the same time, feeling his hands everywhere on his body,
hearing him moan and cry out, whispering his name in his ear. His stomach spasmed as he felt Vash release,
then he let go, loosing himself against the other as their bodies throbbed, lost in waves of pleasure.
Vash was dimly aware that his neck had been released, and the other body now lay on top of him,
breathing slow and deeply, the heartbeat racing against his chest. He wrapped his arms over Nicholas’ back,
every part of his body tingling. He shut his eyes and felt the warm glow that enwrapped them both. He
began to drift away, even as he heard Nicholas’ own deeper breathing, still deep within him.
Somewhere between dreams, Vash found himself in a sea of white, strew amidst pillows and sheets.
He looked up, lying on his stomach. Sunlight was creeping its way into his room through the curtains they’d
forgotten to close last night.
They?
Vash had no time to contemplate the thought. As he tried to stand his head thundered in protest
and he almost fell onto the floor, gripping the end of the bed until the room slowed down. He blinked as the
low light felt like a thousand suns.
What the hell hit me last night? I feel like I’m gonna die. He staggered to the window and shut the
drapes, clutching them for support until he heard a couple stitches let go. He turned, aiming his falling body
towards what he could make out as the mattress through whatever fog had taken over his mind. Climbing
back in amongst the sheets, he collapsed back onto his stomach and twisted his long fingers into the sheets,
clinging on for dear life. A part of the blanket felt oddly soft, and he rubbed it between his fingers. Slowly,
his thoughts came back to him as his stomach gave up the threats it tossed at him.
We?
He turned his head slowly, not wanting to wake up the pain in his temples again. Flashes of black
and blue waved through his memory as he made out a bump of skin wrapped in blankets next to him. A
shoulder. Reaching over slowly, he pulled a mass of blankets away, revealing a slightly messy head of black
hair.
Oh shit! Not Meryl! Anything but Meryl!! But as he continued to study the hair, he noticed it
wasn’t as shinny blue as Meryl’s was, more of a slate black. The shoulder blades also seemed more angular,
muscles wrapped the arm. The body was much bigger than Meryl.
More memories came back to him. Whispering. Clothing flying. A white shirt. Someone’s name.
Falling. Drinks. Lots of drinks.
What’s going on? He pressed his hand to his warm forehead and turned slightly onto his metal side,
twisting the blankets clutched in his other hand along with him.
“Nik?” The whisper was hardly recognizable as his own when the body next to him stirred.
“MmmPiss off...” Vash jumped, tucking his hand to his chest. “No...I didn’t.”
He was talking in his sleep. Nicholas D. Wolfwood was lying in Vash’s bed, with Vash completely
naked beside him, hung over from the bottles strewn across the table, and he was talking in his sleep.
Vash sat up slowly despite his head, unable to keep his gaze from drifting down the sleeping man’s
body, half covered by the same blankets he’d just been sleeping under. Pale flesh slightly pink against the
pure sheets, dark hair feathered out over the pillow. Long dark lashes fluttering above his cheeks. He
couldn’t believe what he was feeling. Images danced in his mind again. Soft kisses, like rose petals falling on
skin. Rough embraces and gasps for air.
He didn’t imagine it.
Nicholas had been so gentle with him, but rough as well.
All this time he hadn’t just been dreaming.
The way Nicholas had pulled him around, held him tightly.
Nicholas D. Wolfwood.
Every time he had looked at the fallen priest he’d felt something.
And it was real. Now it was real.
He pulled the sheets up over his lap, still watching Nik’s face moving ever so slightly in sleep.
But what if Vash was wrong. What if he’d just been so drunk, and he’d forced himself on Nicholas.
No, it wasn’t him who had made the first move. Vash had been submissive to the other man.
Hadn’t he? Where were the answers?
He brought his hand to his head, blanket and all, reluctant to let go of the only thing he knew was
real. Something cold bumped his forehead sharply. He opened his hand, the small strip of velvet uncurled
around its decoration, a silver cross that glinted even in the dark room.
Wolfwood. He clutched the necklace to his chest and dropped slowly back to the mattress, inching
carefully towards the soft back and the raven hair. His nose rubbed slightly at the skin and he dared place his
right hand on the valley of Nicholas’ side. His skin was so soft and warm as Vash cuddled into him, however
slowly he had to move to avoid waking him.
Even if he was wrong, if he had been mistaken, there was no sense in wasting a few moments to
pretend. Vash fell back to sleep next to Nicholas D. Wolfwood.
The laughter of children echoed through the window and Vash opened his eyes as a soft breeze
kissed his cheek. He stretched under the sheets until his body protested, aching from the previous night.
Memories of a hangover floated back to him and he rolled onto his back, blinking up at the ceiling.
Last night... Nothing came to him as he tried to remember. He stretched his arms, his left running
across the empty pile of blankets. He turned his head to the side too fast and slammed his eyes shut, only to
force them open again. His hand slid over the sheets, trying to gasp the fleeting memory of someone being
there. A dream.
No. He had been there.
He? Vash pressed his palms into his eyes as his head screamed against the effort. He hadn’t
dreamed the hangover.
Then the memory of the curtains... The curtains were pulled shut, waving gently in the breeze. He
rolled onto his chest, moving to the center of the bed. Something hard was under his arm, buried in the folds
of the blanket. He fished it out and brought it before his fuzzy vision. A small black velvet choker with a
silver cross charm on it.
It wasn’t a dream. He had been there.
Beside Vash.
Nik.
Then where was he now? Vash sat up gently under the protesting migraine and scanned the room.
His shirt was near the bed, and a pile resembling his pants were closer to the table. Bottles scattered the
table, glinting sarcastically in the morning sun. A small pile of white cake still sat molested on its plate.
Nothing else seemed out of place.
If it had been a dream then where did the necklace come from? He lay back on the bed, dangling
the strip of black between his fingers. Light hit the silver, highlights passing perfectly across the flawless
surface. Even the hoop, molded into the top of the cross, was flawless, looping through the edge of the
ribbon. A slight crease in each end proved it had been worn, tied behind someone’s neck. Tied behind
Nicholas’ neck.
He jumped when there was a knock at the door. Tucking the pendant into his pillow case, he pulled
the blanket back up to his waist and tried not to loose himself in the pounding of his head.
“Yes?”
The door opened and the dark figure stepped forward. “So you’re finally awake, Huh?” Smoke
curled lazily from Nicholas’ crooked cigarette, light reflecting off his sun glasses. He still held onto the door
knob, a package held in the other hand.
“Well, can I come in?”
“Of course.” Vash threw his arm over his forehead and looked towards Nicholas under his elbow.
He crossed the room and stopped at the bed, staring down at Vash.
“You sure look a mess, ya know that?”
“Gee, thanks for telling me.”
“We still have a tournament to enter, remember?”
“How could I forget?”
“This is all your own fault, Vash.” Wolfwood shifted slightly, the package still stilling in the crook
of his arm. He crossed over to the window and opened the curtains, tossing light at Vash’s protesting eyes.
“How the hell do you think that? You entered me in the contest, and you were the one who
brought the booze over!”
“So you remember last night.” Nicholas reached up to his cigarette, taking a long drag before
flicking it out the window. Vash stared up, trying to reach his eyes. “Want some breakfast?” He held the
package out to Vash.
“I don’t think that’s such great idea.” He rolled onto his side, cradling himself.
“Well you could at least get dressed.” He set the package down on the table then bent down to
retrieve Vash’s shirt. “I’m not letting you off the hook just cause you’re a wuss at drinking. You agreed to
this fair and square and we have a duty to that poor woman and her son.” He pulled Vash up, firmly but
slow enough for him to adjust to the new altitude again.
“You’re a really mean guy.”
“I’ll remember that.” He pulled the shirt over Vash’s head and dressed him. His hand brushed the
metal arm but he didn’t flinch or recoil at all. Vash tried to peer past his sunglasses to Nicholas’ eyes, but he
couldn’t.
“Now you’re old enough to put on your own pants.” He crossed back over to the table and sat
down.
“What if I don’t want to?”
“Don’t think I won’t drag you out looking like that. The infamous Vash The Stampede could use
an extra rumor or two.” Vash stood from the bed and crossed to the table, taking as long as he possibly
could so as not to disturb his hang over. When he finally sat at the table, Nicholas pushed the package over
to him, a box of donuts.
“You should eat something before we go.”
“Do I have to?”
“Fine, starve.” Wolfwood stood up and turned to the door.
“Don’t go, please.”
Nicholas stopped, Vash’s hand on his elbow. For a man with a hangover, he could still move fast
when he wanted to.
There’s so much to you. Just when I think I’ve seen all there is...
The green blue eyes held him a second too long and Vash swayed, lurching away from the table.
Nicholas swooped to catch him, the blonde hanging limp in his arms. He pushed the hair from his forehead
and felt his face, worry twitching at the corner of his mind.
“Vash?” His eyes were closed, breath coming raggedly through his open mouth. “Vash!” He tapped
him on the cheek, pale against his own skin.
“I’ll be fine...” He gulped. “...as soon as the room stops moving.” Nicholas wrapped his arm under
Vash’s legs and brought him up softly to his chest, carrying him over to the bed. He moved to the dresser,
bringing a dish of water and a cloth to the edge of the bed. Vash sighed as he draped the cloth over his
forehead. He smoothed the long blonde hair, so odd to see it down.
“Have you gotten anything out of your system yet?”
“No, not if you mean what I think you mean.”
“Well it helps.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” Vash’s jaw clenched suddenly. “On second thought...”
Nik was absolutely sweet. He held back Vash’s hair, rubbed his back, kept his head up. As he lead
him back to the bed, Vash studied his face. He wondered what had taken the gentle soul and hardened it so
much. Where had his pain come from?
“Look, you get some rest and I’ll come back in an hour or so. We still have plenty of time before
the contest starts.”
“Don’t leave.”
“What’s with you? A little needy lately, aren’t you?” He sat in mid protest, as Vash slid over, giving
him more room on the bed. “Well I guess someone should keep an eye on you, just in case you’re faking the
whole-”
“Faking?!” Vash stiffened, rising off the mattress.
“Calm down.” He leaned over and stretched across the bed, pushing Vash gently back down. “You
won’t get better acting like that.” Propped up on his elbow, he kept his hand on Vash’ chest, moving in slow
circles down to his abdomen then back up across his chest.
“Last night really happened then.”
“Get some rest.” Nik’s soft voice was the last thing he heard as his eyes shut and fell asleep under
his lover’s hand.
Nicholas studied the blonde as he slept. The lost arm was hardly a surprise given what he’d heard
about the Humanoid Typhoon. It wasn’t hard to look at though, which was odd. A mass of grafted metal
and wires sitting where a man’s arm should have been wasn’t one of those normal things everyone had. But
it didn’t bother Nicholas. He reached out, running his finger along the metal, almost warm, till it ended at
Vash’ actual wrist, his real hand still perfectly attached.
What’s happened to you? He leaned over Vash, tracing his skin with his eyes, pleading his slightly
parted mouth to speak, tell him his story. Instead, it reminded him of the previous night. The smell of alcohol
drifted between his lips, and Nicholas felt a pang of guilt clutch his stomach. Vash shouldn’t have drank so
much. It was his fault, no matter how much the blonde hadn’t protested. He might not even be able to shoot
straight.
We’ll find out today, won’t we? We’ll see what makes Vash the Stampede so legendary. And
maybe, just maybe, Nicholas D. Wolfwood might admit something to himself, something he’d forgotten for
a very long time.
He kissed the sleeping face lightly on the cheek and leaned back to the pillows, watching him sleep
till he forgot to stay awake.
“Here, take this.” Nicholas held out a bottle of ketchup. Vash looked dumbly from him to the bottle
and back again, his arm frozen halfway up his sleeve.
“Huh?”
“Just take it. Trust me.”
Vash reached out for the bottle. “But it doesn’t have a cap.”
Wolfwood just narrowed his eyes as he tucked a matching bottle into his jacket.
“So, shall we go?”
“Please keep your voice down, my head really hurts.” Vash made an attempt at a whine, not
enough to make his head throb anymore than it already did. They were standing in the middle of the street,
people staring at the staggering couple. One hand was clapped over his eyes while the other was slung over
Wolfwood’s broad shoulders. His hand was cradling Vash’s ribs, and he really wished he was feeling better
so he could actually enjoy the half embrace disguised as Nicholas holding him up.
“You’re really a wuss, Vash, can’t even handle a few drinks.”
“That’s wasn’t a few drinks. That was more like a few dallons.”
“Whatever you say.”
Vash dropped into the chair like a sack of flour, hoping the drop in altitude would calm his
stomach. Despite his hangover he still destroyed the competition in the opening round. This wasn’t his day.
A cool hand clapped his shoulder, softly squeezing even under everyone’s eyes. The surprise that
was Nicholas D. Wolfwood didn’t seem to end.
“You’re Vash The Stampede all right.”
“I’m standing out too much.”
“Nah, it’ll make the going that much easier, Vash. Keep knocking ‘em dead out there.”
“That goes for you too.” Vash raised the gun and holster back to Nicholas.
“Huh? Me too?” Vash felt his hand slip from his shoulder to the back of the chair as the announcer
called for Nicholas to step forward.
He grabbed Vash by the shoulders and yelled in his ear. “What the hell did you sign me up for?”
“Well if we both compete it’ll improve our chances.” He pointed towards Neil and his mother,
waving at them from the crowd.
“What?”
“Good luck out there, Mr. PriestMan!”
“Eh great. Hm?” Vash raised his hand to Nicholas.
“For love?”
He took it and squeezed. “And peace.”
Despite Vash’s initial reaction, he began to enjoy the one on one competitions in the first
quarter-final matches. It gave him even more time to practice some of his rustier techniques. After all,
there’s only so many ways you can defeat people without seriously hurting them. Besides, his mind was too
preoccupied pondering what Millie had said, and how her suggestion at Nicholas’ past as an ex-gunman had
bothered the raven-haired man so much.
Wolfwood relaxed in the chair, the insurance girls floating over him. The time that he wasn’t facing
down the other idiot contestants was time he could spend studying Vash. The tall blonde gunman easily stole
every shred of his attention. He was glad, however, that he didn’t have to face the backwards man. Vash
would have been upset when Nicholas killed that snake. The very thought that he would try such a trick,
especially on Vash, made it hard to stay in his seat and not hunt him down.
“Well, time to get this whole thing over with.” He stood up, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“What do you mean, Mr. Wolfwood?” Millie’s voice tugged at some irritation in his mind.
“Not that it’s particularly important but I thought I’d bow out of the final match.”
“You mean you’re going to let Vash win? How nice of you!”
“Eh.” He groaned and brought his hand to his forehead. Definite irritation. “It doesn’t matter who
wins now, so why bother?”
“I’m sure Vash would agree.” Meryl’s voice was as cool as it always was around Wolfwood. And
frankly, he didn’t care.
“Just give the prize to the other guy, all right?”
“I can’t do that.”
Wolfwood’s smug grin faded in surprise as he looked down at the squat mustache man. “What?”
“Look.”
“Huh?”
He pointed at a window, where Neil and his mother were being held at gunpoint.
“Well then, that’s how it is.” He shut his eyes, slowly working out how he could get behind the
gunman.
“Nicholas you really are very good. Would you consider eliminating Vash The Stampede with your
superb gunmanship.” The fat man’s words sounded nothing like a question. “If you do as I ask, I will
guarantee you the safety of that family. And I’d even be willing to raise the prize to 30 billion double
dollars.”
“You mean, 50/50?”
The brown-haired man laughed. “I like a man with a head on his shoulders.”
“Gentlemen the final round will now begin.” The announcer’s voice echoed over the sand.
Vash’s feet stopped, the dust blowing over his boots, his jacket flapping gently against his legs. He
gazed questioningly at the dark blue figure 20 paces away from him. What the hell is going on? What did
Meryl mean, then?
“Didn’t you go over there to withdraw?”
“Here’s the big money question: Tell me, what do you see in the window of that building over
there?” Vash followed his gaze to where the three figures still stood. Vash’s face narrowed. “And that just
about sums it up.”
“Ready, Go!”
Wolfwood’s bullet swiftly followed the announcer’s voice, slicing the fabric over Vash’s right
shoulder, the first and last warning shot. Vash dashed to the right as Wolfwood failed a few more times to
hit him. Bullet casings scattered the ground as Nicholas re-loaded as he chased after him.
“It’s for the good of that family. Just resign yourself and die!” Was it all a game of shirades then? Vash thought.
He jumped behind a low concrete wall, remnants of an older building, narrowly missing three more
of Wolfwood’s bullets. He was actually aiming for him. “Come on now, get serious!” Are you actually
going to kill me? But....then what are you saying?
“I’m saying that we all have to make a few sacrifices.”
“Can I make a different one?” Vash pointed his gun over the wall and fired towards Wolfwood,
hoping he hadn’t moved that much. I thought...
The first bullet Vash had ever fired at him sliced his cheek and he groaned. “Now you’ve done it!”
“So this what you got me so plastered for yesterday!” Vash wasn’t enjoying the game anymore,
something welled up inside of him and he tightened his grip on the hilt of his gun. He sent a random bullet
above the preacher’s head, now hidden behind the other side of the dead house.
“You really think I’d try something that cheap?!” He sent his own shot over Vash’s head.
“Yeah, I do, after you went and signed me up without asking!” Gunshot.
“You did the same to me!” Gunshot.
The argument was pointless, he’d almost let himself forget. How could feelings this strong be
bothering him? They both jumped out from behind their hiding spots, running along the sand, starring at
each other from behind their guns. A few steps and they stopped.
Gunshot. Matching smirks. Then they both dropped forward into the dust. Red spread from under
their bodies. People gasped from the crowd. Millie and Meryl were on their feet. No...Vash! Meryl couldn’t
move, she was helpless to stand beside Millie and stare at his unmoving body. Some fat guy behind a desk
was yelling orders and a group of men in odd pointy hats moved forward onto the field.
Gunshot.
Wolfwood, crouched up onto his knees catching his gun, a small dent in the hilt from where it had
been shot. Vash watched him from behind the smoke of his gun, trying not to idolize his partner’s position,
his ass stuck up in the air.
The small group didn’t stand a chance against the crazed looked in Wolfwood’s eyes. He even
managed to take out the kidnapper before anyone really knew what was going on.
Vash stood, fishing the open bottle of ketchup out of his jacket. He glared at the priest, far too
good of an actor, a patch of red standing out against the blue blazer. It’s your own damned fault, and you
better apologize to me.
Wolfwood just stared at Vash, a look of shock and anger twisted his face as he dropped his own
bottle to the ground. What the hell were you doing?!
The fat man yelled something and the whole bloody town seemed to open fire on them. Gunmen
perched on every rooftop, spraying the dust at their feet with bullets, and consequently the men that had still
been alive a moment ago.
Vash and Wolfwood bolted out of the way. “Millie! Meryl! Throw me my luggage!” Vash stopped
running as he watched him catch the cloth-wrapped cross effortlessly that Millie had sent flying across the
sands with her gun. He slammed it into the sand. “Thanks!”
“Hey, don’t kill them.” It was a unique weapon the priest carried, and Vash was still curious as to
exactly how it worked. Wolfwood hid his thin frame behind it. Vash yelped as another spray of bullets rained
down on them, bouncing off the cross.
“I’m amazed you can say that at a time like this.”
“Hey, whatever happened to thou shalt not kill?” Vash skidded across the dirt and shielded himself
with his left arm. He watched helplessly as Wolfwood released the straps on his cross. The cloth fell away to
reveal the metal contraption, the left arm of the cross opened to reveal six guns. Vash couldn’t let himself
think of the resemblance, or the fact that there was obviously more to the cross than just a gun rack, as he
watched the guns in Wolfwood’s hands mow down the men. His scream carried over the gunfire, his anger
transforming him into something Vash couldn’t recognize any more.
“I won’t let any more children suffer! Never again!”
Nik, please stop. You told me...you promised..
Children.
“Hey Vash! Look what I found!”
He looked up, the smaller blonde running towards him.
“What is it?”
“Look!” He gasped for breath from running so fast like he always did. Vash peered past his
brother’s fingers, hesitant to open his hands all the way lest the prize get away.
A small moth lifted its wings, white powder covering the skin around it.
“Why did you catch him? He should be free.”
“It’s just a bug!”
“Not it isn’t.” He pulled the hands open more, the small moth too dazed to move.
“Hey!” The blue eyes glared down at him in protest.
“Look, you’ve ruined his wings. All that powder came off and now he can’t fly.”
“Sure he can. Watch!” The moth was thrown into the air. It flapped and struggled, but tumbled to
the grass, flicking its wings against the blades in protest.
“See?” Vash reached out his hands to retrieve it.
“Okay, I’ll squash him.”
“NO!” Vash cried, throwing himself in front of the moth, the foot coming down on his back.
“What are you doing? I’m gonna put it out of its misery!” He huffed, putting his hands on his hips.
“No, don’t you understand? No life should ever be wasted. No matter what. She would cry.” He
lowered his gaze from the cool blue eyes to the moth, still distressed in the grass. “Maybe Rem can help
you.” He carefully pushed his hands under the moth and brought it up from the grass.
“You’re weird, Vash.”
Vash’s memory drifted away, leaving him under the sun, amongst the moans of all the other gumen.
“I don’t understand, why did you have to go and injure so many of these people? What kind of a
churchman are you?”
“What’s the big deal? Nobody’s dead, I kept my word.” He stalked off towards the fat man, still
sitting dumbly at his desk. He listened half-heartedly as the two argued, Wolfwood obviously winning. He
was paying more attention to his feet as he walked, following Millie’s coat and tuning out their dull prattling
and praise of his performance.
Vash looked up, barely noticing the man in the black pants, black suit jacket, and pink shirt
watching Wolfwood. He narrowed his eyes, for once glad he’d stuck with the insurance girls, who had gone
into some shop, leaving him in the shade of the porch. Somehow, the raven-haired man hadn’t noticed Vash,
or if he had he didn’t look at him again. He turned and walked back along the roof and out of site. Vash
wondered if he should tell Nicholas.
“What a day, Huh?” Wolfwood sat at the table, deciding somehow that they should celebrate in
Vash’s room. The insurance girls hadn’t stuck around very long.
“Sorry you two, but we have work to do.”
“But Meryl-”
She cut the taller girl off. “Some of the other contestants are known to the company. We’ve got a
long night ahead of us. Come on, Millie.”
“But I wanna stay!”
“We’re going, or do you want us to loose our jobs?”
“You’re no fun at all.” She said as they left.
“Well I’m glad you had fun.” Vash threw himself on his bed and crossed his arms, his back to the
table.
“So what, you’re going to sit over there and sook?” Wolfwood sat up and stared at the back of the
blonde head. “Fine then. I’ll just help myself to your shower.”
“Hey!” He remembered the sticky feeling on his own chest, left from the ketchup still soaked into
his shirt. “Don’t you have your own room?” Running after Nicholas, he stopped in the doorway, half
surprised to see the other man already throwing off his shirt.
“What?”
“Well...It’s my room!” He whined.
“You’re kidding me, right?” The dark grey eyes locked with Vash’s. “You’re still mad at me?”
Vash’s eyes fell to the floor.
“What did I do that was so wrong? Save us both from a gang of merciless bounty hunters? You
sure have a lousy way of saying thanks.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared into the dusty mirror,
glaring at the new scar on his cheek.
“I thought you wanted to kill me.”
Nicholas’ face was puzzled as he looked at the sad aqua eyes, cast to the floor. “You thought I was
going to kill you? Is that what’s bugging you?” The tiled floor was cold on his bare feet as he stepped
forward. Wolfwood always threw off his shoes when he was inside. Bare feet just felt so much more
comfortable.
Vash felt stupid all of a sudden. He’d gone and blurted out his feelings, and now Nicholas probably
thought he was an even bigger wuss. Hands cupped his face, snapping his eyes back to the steel blue pair.
“I wouldn’t hurt you, Vash.”
In the silence as they stared at each other, something tickled at Vash’s mind. It ran over and over
again, the idea playing itself out. Then he couldn’t help it. Nicholas released his face as Vash unbuttoned his
jacket and flung it back into the room, then pulled the collar of his shirt down.
“Well that kinda hurt.”
Wolfwood’s mouth parted as he stared at the purple bruise on Vash’s pale neck. He hadn’t
remembered biting him that hard. “Well you already paid me back for that.” His finger tapped the line on his
cheek.
Vash stumbled. “I...I wasn’t even looking!”
“Are you kidding me? You could have killed me!”
“You almost got me!”
“It’s a gunfight! It’s supposed to look real!”
“Well you could fill me in on things once in a while!”
“How could I? Your brains were as good as mush this morning.”
Vash felt his blood pressure rising rapidly. “And who brought the damned wine?”
“Wine? You want to talk about whining? ‘My head hurts! I drank too much! Waa waa waa!’”
Wolfwood’s voice bit into Vash and he shoved him backwards into the tub.
“You want a shower?”
“HEY!”
Vash’s arm shot out and turned on the tap. “Take a shower!” Cold water shot down on the two of
them.
“AG! I still have my pants on!” He grabbed at Vash, his shirt stretching as he pulled on his
shoulders. The shirt slid off and Nicholas fell back into the tub, hooking his foot behind Vash’s knee. The
blonde fell forward and grasped at the wall. Hands shot up and hauled him by the waist under the stream of
water. He screeched and thrashed, trying to slip out of the iron grasp, but only succeeded in falling further
into the tub. Laughter echoed off the bathroom walls as the water finally began to warm up. Under the wet
locks, Vash glared at Nicholas, a grin spread across his face, black hair plastered to his forehead. The two of
them sat facing each other in the tub, Vash closer to the taps. The laughter faded into a sigh.
“Well, since I’m in here...” The raven-haired man stood, placing his feet between Vash’s legs. He
looked up as the dark grey pants were unzipped and dropped into the shallow water in the tub. Vash gazed
open-mouthed at the naked gunman.
“Hmm?” Wolfwood looked down. “Well are you gonna get out of the way?”
“Huh?” Aqua eyes blinked. “Oh yeah. Hey wait! It’s my shower.” He stood indignantly.
“Not this again,” Wolfwood’s hands sat on his hips. “It’s not your shower, it’s the hotel’s shower,
and even if I wasn’t in your room I’d still be using the water. Now are you going to stand there and be a
sook or what?” Vash just blinked. “Fine, I’ll choose for you.” He picked Vash up by the waist and turned in
the tub, placing him at the end. Backing up under the stream he titled his head back and let his hair fall under
the water. “So?”
A lump caught in Vash’s throat, and suddenly he was acutely aware of his pants again. The water
left dark trails over Nicholas’ skin. Within moments his body was completely wet, his hands sliding over
himself, scrubbing at the pink stain on his chest. Without thinking, Vash reached over and picked up the
soap, stepping forward and bringing it over the other man’s chest.
He stared, letting him wash the ketchup off him, then grabbed his wrist. “Isn’t water bad for
leather?” He pointed at Vash’s paints, the blonde looking at himself in a daze. Sighing, Nicholas looked at
the ceiling for a moment, then in one fluid motion he ripped the leather pants down to his knees.
Vash gasped. “Hey!”
“If you want something done around here, you have to do it yourself.” He took the soap and
scrubbed his arms.
Vash bent over and tried not to slip as he pulled his boots and pants off, half leaning on the wall.
“Really?”
“That’s what I’ve learned so far.”
“Fine then.” Wolfwood barely had time to look up before Vash’s mouth captured his. His gasp was
muffled by their kiss, the soap slipping out of his hand. Leaning against the wall, Vash’s hands slid slightly
on the wet tiles behind Nicholas, feeling his feet against his in the water, wanting to feel everything of his
against every part of the other man.
Hands slid over Vash’s chest, splashing water over him and traveling to his face. Nicholas pushed
Vash’s cheeks back and their mouths parted, their gasps echoing under the water.
“I dropped the soap.”
“When did I say I wanted to be clean?” Vash caught his mouth again, pushing his tongue past their
lips and leaning against his chest, hot wet skin meeting his own.
One of Vash’s hands held him up while the other slid down Wolfwood’s ribs, his nails slipping over
the wet skin, making the shorter man gasp into their kiss again. His own hands traced along the scarred
back, exploring plates and old wounds, trying to memorize everything that marred the soft white skin.
Sliding up his neck, his fingers wound into the blonde hair, hanging down from the water. Their mouths
parted, and Vash ran his tongue over Nicholas’ top lip, then across his cheek to his chin, up along his ear
and down to the hollow of his collar bone, biting into the soft skin. Wolfwood’s hand clenched his hair,
tugging his head up. The aqua eyes danced and silently pleaded with him, something new floating in the clear
pools. His grip relaxed and he continued to run his hands through the blonde scalp as his head lowered, lips
and tongue tracing a line to his nipple, reveling at the small pink flesh. Wolfwood’s head slipped back and
rested against the tiles, the stream of water hitting Vash’s back. His eyes rolled back in his head as his skin
was toyed with. His erection ran against Vash’s thigh as he released the nipple, running his teeth down
Nicholas’ ribs, stopping to chew gently at the sensitive skin. Nicholas brought one hand from Vash’s head to
his own, smoothing his hair back on his head, then returned it to the scared back.
Vash looked up at his friend, flushed and breathing deeply. Something deep in his stomach curled
and vibrated like a sleeping cat. His body ached still, and he wrapped his arms around Nicholas’ waist,
kneeling down in the shallow water. He squeezed tightly, feeling the priest’s hands massage his shoulders.
His metal arm suddenly thrust itself into his thoughts and he pulled the prosthesis away, only to have his left
wrist encircled in Nicholas’s hand, the fingers brought up to his mouth and licked. He drew them into his
mouth, one by one, his tongue sliding between the fingers and over the knuckles. Vash shut his eyes and
kissed around Wolfwood’s navel, slowing working his way down to his hips.
The fingers slipped from his mouth as Nicholas felt Vash’s breath on his erection. He shut his eyes
and pressed Vash’s hand to his cheek, kissing and sucking at his palm. Vash’s mouth hovered over him, then
he ran his lips along the length, pulling away as Wolfwood involuntarily bucked forward, releasing his hand.
He hung in the air, his breath washing over the head, sparkling with water. The smells invading his nostrils
were familiar yet foreign, musty and tangy, truly male. He flicked out his tongue and tasted the very tip,
looking up as Wolfwood gasped, his hands still on Vash’s back. He let his hands massage Wolfwood’s
thighs as he licked the underside of his cock. Wolfwood moaned as Vash’s mouth slid over his head, sealing
it from the air. He lost himself in the warm mouth as it sucked gently, slipping further down, then pulling
away, only to come down further again.
Vash tested himself slowly on how far he could take Wolfwood in his mouth. He had to restrain
Wolfwood’s hips as he tried to thrust deeper down Vash’s unprepared throat. Gagging wasn’t what Vash
intended to do as he pulled his mouth from Wolfwood, running his tongue over the small opening and over
the top, circling the slick flesh. A moan escaped deep within Wolfwood’s throat as the blonde’s tongue
flicked over him. He longed to push back into his mouth, but Vash held his hips back. He swallowed, licking
his dry lips as Vash’ kisses traveled down his shaft, his nose brushing his stomach, his tongue slipping over
one side and running over his sack. A broken cry escaped him this time as Vash’s mouth enveloped his nuts,
one hand releasing his hips to grip him, moving at two different paces.
“Fuck!” His abdomen contracted and his knees felt like they were melting. He released Vash
completely, needing both hands now to hold him in place between the shower rod and the wall. He slipped
from Vash’s mouth as the blonde ran his tongue back up to the tip and slid half his length down his throat at
once. He bobbed down till his nose met the pink skin of Nicholas’ abdomen and the raven haired man cried
out, arching his whole frame. His back was now against the wall and his waist pushed Vash forward despite
his best efforts. His free hand traveled to his balls again, rolling them around before moving behind and
stroking his opening.
Vash was loosing his breath and he pulled off, lapping at the head while he inserted one wet finger
into Nicholas, who also gulped for air. A second finger joined the first, probing against the tight channel.
“Vash..Fuck!” Nicholas’ moans hardly sounded real as Vash pulled his mouth away, capturing the
priest’s mouth, arching over his bent frame. He pushed his hips into Vash’s, pulling himself up with the
curtain rod, catching Vash’s own erection under him. He rested his cheek against Wolfwood’s chest for
moment, before reaching under him and positioning himself against the stretched opening. He gripped
Wolfwood around the ribs and pushed him against the wall, thrusting deep inside him. He shut his eyes, lost
in the pleasure of just entering him. Legs wrapped around Vash, Nicholas pulled himself up in the shower
curtain again, pressure building within him. Vash gave in and pushed into Nicholas, sliding up and down
with greater ease each time. He rested his forehead in the crook of Nicholas’ neck, the shower running over
his shoulders.
Their moans fell into synchronization, both panting, blood pounding in their bodies. With every
thrust the tension built, coiling their bodies tight around each other. Nicholas could feel himself slipping,
sandwiched against Vash’s abdomen, and he clenched down tightly on the blonde, knowing true satisfaction
as his lover’s body spasmed, releasing deep within him, Vash’s cry echoing off the tiles. As his stomach
contracted, Nicholas felt his own release, knocking his head back against the tiles again, bending up into
Vash’s arched form, release coating both their stomachs.
He let his legs slide down and slowly he pulled his hand off the shower rod. Vash slipped out of him
and leaned against him as they both rested against the wall. Wolfwood found the Humanoid Typhoon’s
hands around his waist, fingers lightly rubbing the small of his back, chin curled into his neck.
“Nik..” He breathed against his neck. The word caught in Nicholas’ mind, wrapping itself around
his heart. He ran his hands to Vash’s hair and began kissing his cheek, slowly moving his head so he could
reach his mouth.
Exhausted, Vash allowed himself to be pushed under the stream of warm water, hands reaching up
to his forehead and washing away the sweat gathered on his brow. He brought his hands to Nicholas’ face,
cleaning his lover at the same time.
Lover, do I have the right to that name? Vash searched the dark blue eyes for the answer, but
found only the same exhaustion he felt.
They toweled off and wandered back into the main room, Wolfwood leading Vash by the hand.
They spread out on the bed, curled the blankets around each other and fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Vash woke, something trailing along his ribs, tickling him. He woke again to the site of Wolfwood
beside him. He pushed his face in his hands, rubbing away the sleep and fuzziness of waking up. His eyes
focused on the sleeping image of Nicholas, lips parted slightly, eyes still fluttering in a dream. One arm was
under Vash and twitching ever so slightly, fingertips randomly brushing his skin. He suddenly felt wrong.
Was he using the priest? Filling his emptiness with hollow contact? Was it real? Did he need this or
was he lying to himself? After all, they’d only known each other for a short amount of time. Was the priest
using him? He’d been drunk the first time.
He sat up swiftly, the blanket pooling in his lap. Wolfwood arched up and moaned, his eyes
flickering open, blinking against the sunlight that streamed into the room through the curtains, forgotten
again.
“What’s up, Blondie?”
“Hey.” Vash’s voice was quiet.
“You feeling all right? Yer not still hung over are you?” He grinned.
Vash slid to the edge of the bed and pulled the blanket with him, leaving one other blanket covering
Wolfwood. “No, I’m fine.” He walked quickly into the bathroom to retrieve his clothes, though his clean
clothes were back in the room. Blinking into the sliver reflection, he stared at the mirror, the pale face, flat
and hollow. Something thickened in his throat and his stomach felt emptier than just morning hunger. He
gripped the edge of the sink.
“What’s up?” Wolfwood stood in the doorway, startling Vash. His nude figure proceeded into the
small space and he placed a hand on Vash’s back.
The blonde jumped back and slid from under his touch. “Nothing.”
“You’re lying.” His tone was still lighthearted.
Vash grabbed his clothes and slipped between the black haired man and the doorway.
“This silent treatment isn’t winning you any brownie points.” He turned, facing the bigger room,
watching Vash buzz around the room.
He couldn’t speak, no words would come to his mouth, his mind wouldn’t let his voice react.
Nothing sounded right anyway, not even in his mind. He jumped as a strong set of hands seized his arms,
hard enough to bruise his right arm.
“You’re scaring me, Vash.”
He blinked against the cold blue stare, feeling completely stupid.
“What’s wrong?” Nicholas shook him slightly. “Say something.”
“I’m.....just tired.” The blue eyes narrowed. “I...didn’t sleep well, that’s all.”
“Well I guess no one can sleep well with me next to them.” His grip relaxed.
That wasn’t true. It was the most comforting feeling in the world to lie next to the priest, hear his
breath pass between his lips, feel his heart beat against his own.
Vash pulled away and moved to the closet, digging out a pair of black jeans and a long black
turtleneck shirt. He dressed quickly, under Wolfwood’s confused gaze. As he raised the shirt over his head,
hands caught around his chest, pressing his back into Nicholas’ body.
“Nicholas...”
“I know, I know, you can’t get dressed with me stuck on you. But who needs clothes?”
Vash ducked through the circle of his arms and threw the shirt over his head, crossing the room to
the dresser and began combing his hair. The blonde locks stuck up with relative ease, and Nicholas realized
he hadn’t once wondered how he kept his hair like that without gel.
“Natural spiky-ass...” He whispered under his breath. Vash turned and fixed him in his gaze, the
aqua eyes floating on something new. Something pulled at Nicholas, knowing full well his lover was
troubled. “Vash please, what’s bothering you?”
The blonde turned back and replaced the comb. “Like I said, nothing!” Vash spun around and
flashed a smile with his eyes shut. Nicholas bit his lip.
“I’m going out for a bit, okay?” He swept down and picked up his jacket, throwing it on.
“Where?”
“Just over to see the insurance girls.”
“Won’t you at least stay and have breakfast?” He motioned to the box of donuts on the table.
“They’re a day old.”
“They’re perfectly fine.” He stuffed a powdered donut into his mouth, sugar falling on the fine
black stubble speckling his chin.
“No thanks.” Vash turned and left, shutting the door as Wolfwood dropped into the chair, the cold
wood felt strange under his bare ass. The donut tasted gross first thing in the morning, and he threw his vain
attempt at keeping Vash around back in the box.
If you love something...
He was completely baffled. The same man who had fucked his brains out the previous night was
now so distant. He hadn’t said anything that could have upset Vash, nothing had happened. Sure, their
relationship was progressing quickly, damned quickly, and they never had much of a chance to talk about
things, but he’d never forced himself on Vash, any response had been by his own free will. The sudden
distance worried him. He cared too much now to just let Vash push him away.
I care? It hadn’t occurred to him that he actually felt strongly about the maimed blonde. Sure, he’d
slept with him, lost himself in the other’s company, but it was just so comforting, it felt so...right. Okay, so
he was clumsy, flamboyant, insane, downright intolerable at times, but it was all layers of Vash, walls he put
up to protect himself, and yet he was so innocent, not caring what others thought. He’d let the local kids
beat him up, crawl all over him, but he won their respect, as he won that of the people he saved. Anyone
who was touched by The Humanoid Typhoon was better for it, they’d regained their self esteem, self
respect, in a world where it was so damned hard just to find a reason to get out of bed. Nothing to live for in
the pile of dust known as Gunsmoke.
Nicholas suddenly felt very alone in Vash’s room, sitting naked in front of a box of donuts. A cat
meowed behind him, perched on the windowsill. He glowered, pitching his half-eaten powdered donut out
the window after the cat. Tail tip flashed out of view and he was alone again. He rose from the chair,
dressing quickly and heading towards Millie and Meryl’s room.
...Let it go.
“What are you looking at, Mr. Wolfwood?” Millie’s reflection appeared beside his in the smoke
shop window.
Nicholas shifted slightly and tossed his nose toward the velvet display case. “That cigarette case.”
“It’s very nice.” The silver crome shone in the window, the double suns heating the air even in the
shade. Vash looked over his shoulder at the trio peering in the window. He was leaning against the railing,
arms folded over his chest, staring into the dusty road. The insurance girls had pleaded for a shopping trip
and Wolfwood had insisted they all go. It would have been too much if he’d said no, so, once again Vash
was dragged along. They hadn’t even gone a store away from the hotel before Millie found something
interesting in the smoke shop’s display, some antique pipe like one her grandfather used to have.
“Mr. Wolfwood!’ Some bellhop hollered from the hotel steps and ran over to them, Nicholas stood
up and looked curiously at the young man, bearly a teenager on further inspection.
“There’s a call for you...” He let out a small gasp. “At the front desk, Mr. Wolfwood.”
“Thanks.” Wolfwood leaned back and slipped his hands in his pockets. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
The bellhop left as fast as he’d come, and Vash turned to study the priest, his eyes hid by his
sunglasses.
“Well I guess I have to cut this short, sorry girls.”
“That’s okay, we can go shopping tomorrow.” Millie always seemed happy about everything.
“Have fun, Vash.” He raised his hand in farewell as he walked back to the hotel. Vash watched him
leave, sensing something in his movements.
“So Vash, where to next?” He was suddenly aware that he was alone with them again.
“Ah, where ever you girls want to go.” He reached one hand behind his head.
“Okay then, this way!” Meryl took the charge. Vash turned one last time as Wolfwood disappeared
into the hotel. His long middle finger pushed his glasses up his nose. He hadn’t meant to be so awkward
around Nicholas, but he didn’t know how else to handle things. He’d never felt like that, never let himself go
so easily, especially not for a guy. He sighed, following the two girls down the sidewalk.
After two hours of watching them try on every dress in the whole city, Vash finally found his limit.
“Sorry you two, but I’m going back to the hotel.”
“Are we talking too long?” Meryl paused, putting a shirt back on the rack.
“No, you guys take as long as you want, I’m just kinda tired today, that’s all.”
“You know Vash, if you want to talk-”
He laughed nervously, cutting her off. “What would I need to talk about? I’m Vash The Stampede!
People fear me! Right, Mister?” He loomed over the short dress shop owner. The man shrunk on his stool
behind the counter.
“Sure, Vash The Stampede, wh-whatever you say.” Vash doubted the guy believed he was who he
said, but he’d made his point, and with that excuse, he quickly left the shop.
Walking brought his mind back to Wolfwood. He was being silly. Nothing was wrong. This was
just paranoia, it was all so new to him. Maybe it would be okay.
Just one person.
Almost to the hotel, he stopped in front of the smoke shop, looking at the display, then headed
inside.
The man at the counter wrote out the slip for Vash’s order, then took his money.
“Oh, and when it’s ready, can you just leave it at the hotel’s front desk?”
“Sure, no problem!” He handed Vash the receipt and Vash smiled back at him.
“Thanks!”
“Yer welcome, buddy!” The bell chimed as the door swung open into the hot air. Vash looked
towards the hotel, then decided to go for a walk instead. He’d seen ruins at the edge of town and felt
compelled to check them out.
He was midway through an alleyway when he suddenly realized he was being followed. Wondering
how skilled his opponent was, how long it would take him to realize that he knew he was being followed,
Vash kept his pace. His questioned was answered as he felt a body land behind him, a hand reaching up to
stuff a cloth over his mouth. Vash struggled for a moment, then relaxed, dropping his breath, faking a faint.
As the man lowered him to the ground, he lay for a minute, then caught him off guard by jumping back up
and dashing down the alley. Something tripped his ankles and he crashed hard against the ground, hands
bearly coming up in time to save his chin.
“Wise guy, eh?”
“Gee, Mister, you sure are a pain in the ass, whoever you are.” Vash knelt and reached back to free
his legs. A boot connected swiftly with his jaw, sending him sprawling into a pile of boxes. He was dully
aware of a shadow over him as a fist drove itself repeatedly into his face, crushing his nose and splitting his
eyebrow, unrelenting in it’s quest to mash his face to pulp. As his consciousness gave out under him, he
thought obscurely for a moment if Nicholas would like his present. The sliver faded into black and his pain
swallowed him.
The room 5 doors down from Vash’s was no where near as interesting, and Nicholas cursed himself
for locking the door behind him when he had left. There were no ruffled sheets in his room, no places where
the lean blonde had lay down, where his pale flesh had left the slightest trace of his scent.
Nicholas was acutely aware of his obsession and he moved to the window, letting his gaze follow
the light blue sky, thinking how it would soon slip from blue to yellow to orange, like the sunglasses Vash
wore. He pulled his fingers through his black hair, tugging hard enough so the pain would wash away his
thoughts. The sunset was still hours away.
There was a knock at the door and his heart flew.
“Come in!” He turned from where he sat on the sill.
“Mr. Wolfwood?” Meryl’s face appeared in the doorway, Millie’s floating above it. “We were
wondering if you and Vash would like to join us for supper later?”
“Where is he?’ Millie’s eyes searched the room.
“Vash? He’s not with you guys?”
“He said he was going back to the hotel. But that was a while ago.”
Nicholas’ mind instantly dropped to the call. “Well we have to find him.” He stood quickly, almost
to the door before he remembered his shoes.
“What’s the matter? Vash goes off by himself all the time.”
He looked up, studying Meryl’s eyes. “Well,” He stopped himself, stumbling as he rose to full
height, slightly above Millie. “He wouldn’t want to miss supper.”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Meryl folded her hands across her small chest.
“He told me he was especially looking forward to it though tonight. I’ll go find him.” Wolfwood let
himself walk calmly towards the hall and turned, waiting for them to leave his room so he could pull the
door shut. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Sure.” Meryl watched as he walked away down the hall and around the corner.
“What was he lying about, Meryl?”
“I don’t know Millie.” Her brow furrowed. Wolfwood seemed to know more about Vash than they
did, and his concern worried her. Vash was more than capable of surviving anything, but... “It’s probably
just some stupid guy thing. Come on.” She turned back to their room.
“Hey Meryl, can we go swimming before supper?”
“If you want.” She couldn’t think if a good excuse not to, besides, it might work out a knot or two
in her back.
Nicholas ran as soon as he came round the corner, flying up the stairs and kicking wide the
emergency exit that opened onto the roof. He ran to the edge, looking blindly over the city. Buildings
stretched off in every direction. He was completely lost and for a moment he couldn’t even remember which
way they had gone shopping, till he realized that probably didn’t matter since the girls had probably dragged
Vash all over the city before he’d left them.
Why did I call? Damn the stupid motorcycle. It wasn’t even important. He could find another one.
Okay so he couldn’t and it did mean a lot more to him than it should, but it wasn’t worth this trouble. He
should have had it sent to another town where someone would have recognized it and called the right people
for him. It was far too late to work out smarter plans now. Now it was useless.
Vash....
His eyes stung as he dug his thumbs into them, trying to clear his mind. The wind rustled his
clothes, pushing his hair around.
What does he need?
A place to stay.
Food.
Supplies.
A way to Legato. His mind clicked. The next sandsteamer out of the city wasn’t for another four
days. Surely he could find Vash by then. Surely. They couldn’t pack him and leave him waiting for the
steamer, he’d come round out of any drug by then and scream, or starve to death. There was enough time.
Wolfwood picked the shortest way to the edge of town and ran for it, leaping across rooftops.
I’ll find you, Vash, don’t worry. Just hold on.
TBA