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Disclaimer: Trigun is not mine.

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Forgot to mention previously: Up to chapter 5 is already written out, and that’s where the reader opinions will come in. AngelDragon, I’ve never written for anyone other than Vash and Knives (and now Wolfwood), so it may be hard, but I can come up with a few ideas for Legato and Dominique already. =D

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You make it hard to breathe
It's as if I'm suffocating
And when you're next to me
I can feel your heartbeat through my skin
It makes me sad to think
This all could be for nothing
I wish there was a way
For you to see inside of me
I've never felt this way
About anyone or anything

-Stabbing Westward, What do I have to Do

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[Vash]

I love him. Plain and simple. Right now, that’s the only thing I know as I lounge, spread eagle, in the bed of the truck, eyes closed behind the yellow-tinted sunglasses that shield the light only slightly. I love the way he competes with me. I love the way he snaps at me when he’s angry. I love the way he calls me names with the slightest hint of affection showing through in his tones, "Needle-noggin" being my favorite. I love the way he smokes, and talks, and smiles. I love the way he looks at me out of the corner of his eye when he thinks I’m not looking. I love the way he ignores the fact that my skin is gnarled and grotesque underneath the many layers of clothing I wear. Most of all, though, I love the fact that he treats me like a human being, rather than a strange creature whose body seems immune to the effects of time.

Wolfwood doesn’t know it, though. He’d probably just give me that smile that can seem perverse and sincere all at once, nudge me in the ribs, and point out what a good joke I made. Either that, or be completely disgusted. He is a priest, after all. A very unorthodox priest, but a priest, nonetheless.

I hear him yawn and shift around in the truck, probably stretching. Turning onto my stomach, I prop my head up on my hands and smirk at him. "If you wanna lay down here for a while, you can."

He scratches at the back of his neck, giving me one of those ‘if I weren’t so mature, I’d roll my eyes’ looks. "No thanks. I don’t particularly enjoy sleeping in vehicles, much less truck beds where I’ll bang my head every time we hit a bump."

I shrug.

"You seem to be enjoying it, though."

Not really. I’d enjoy it more if he were down here with me. Not that it would be very comfortable. His giant cross is down here with me, taking up the majority of space. A while after we got into the truck, I remembered the cross, pointing out the fact that he had forgotten it. Of course, he blamed me for it. Said that it was my fault because he was trying to beat me to the truck. Oh well. I pull myself up to my hands and knees and crawl over to the spare tire that he is currently sitting upon. My back facing him, I settle myself onto it, as well, giving a moment’s thought before speaking. "Wolfwood?"

"Hm?"

"I... really am sorry about drinking the water out of your radiator." I have to try my hardest not to laugh while saying this, reminding myself that it is a serious matter. He actually believed me when I told him I did it. No sense in causing him to think otherwise by laughing at my foolish statement.

Wolfwood is the kind of person that needs someone to blame. He finds it difficult to accuse inanimate objects of bad luck. I know that if I didn’t let him attribute me to the breakdown, he’d blame himself for it, and that could lead to him being even more irritated, and possibly depressed, than he would be if he could blame me. What kind of a sick individual would drink hot radiator water, anyway? I guess he didn’t realize that it would be near impossible, given the fact that there were no hoses or long straws available.

"That’s okay, Vash. I know you were just thirsty."

I keep the smirk out of my voice when I say, "Sorry about your cigarette, too." Now that he could blame me for. Not for mentioning the fact that it was broken, but for breaking it. While riding on the bike, we hit a few bumps and in order to steady myself, I reached for the first thing I could, usually finding purchase on Wolfwood’s chest near the area that the cigarettes are stored. So, yeah, that’s probably my fault.

It’s strange, really, that it’s my fault when I had nothing to do with it and I go unnoticed when I did have something to do with it.

As if I’ve just reminded him of his needs, he reaches inside of his jacket and pulls out another cigarette. It’s broken, as well. Poor Wolfwood. He turns to eye me curiously, as if wondering exactly how it got broken. I shrug helplessly. "I’ll buy you some when we reach town." I’m such a lap dog.

He waves a dismissive hand in my face. "Nah, that’s okay."

"No, really. I want to. You’ve had a bad day."

"So? That doesn’t mean I can’t buy my own cigarettes."

"Well, I know, but I still feel bad about what’s happened."

"So you think that buying me cigarettes is going to make me less mad at you?" There is a slight smirk on his face.

I know he’s joking. I always do. In order to stick to my strange facade of total stupidity, though, I act as if I’m unaware and gape at him. "But you just said that you weren’t mad at me!"

"No, I said that it was alright that you drank my radiator water, because you were thirsty. I never said I wasn’t mad about it."

I frown at him. Not reacting to that, we sit there staring at each other. I wonder, for an instant, what goes through his head when we have silent moments such as these, where our eyes are locked onto each others. It usually happens after some sort of awkward comment made, like the time that Wolfwood mentioned that my genuine smile looked good on me. He quickly recovered from that, though, telling Millie and Meryl who we both knew were standing outside the door eavesdropping. That really killed the moment.

Either way, though, I know what I’m thinking. "You’ve missed this opportunity before. The only time you’ll have a chance is during these awkward silences. Do it. Do something. Why are you just sitting there like a bump on a log? Standing there like a twig while your heart’s desire is right in front of you! Move it!"

"We’re almost there," I hear from the front of the truck. Wolfwood blinks, causing the moment and my thoughts to quickly disperse, and turns towards the driver, thanking him. He turns back around, facing further away from me than before and lights his cigarette; a difficult task, given the wind blowing all around us.

I push all of my previous thoughts aside and yawn, stretching slightly and causing my spine to make a few loud popping sounds. I’m getting pretty good at that, lately. Not popping my spine... pushing my thoughts aside. It’s become a fairly easy task, since I met him. He gets my mind spinning in so many circles it’s almost frustrating. Had I not learned to shut them up, I could very well be insane right now.

I take a moment to shakily stand, using Wolfwood’s shoulder to keep me steady, and peer over the front of the truck. My eyes widen when I see what is ahead of us. Rather than the usual drab buildings the same color as the dirt, there are rather large structures, each of them a different color. As we make our way into the actual town, I notice that there are huge signs everywhere, each of them making strange statements such as, "The Luxor," and "The Mirage." Despite the fact that it’s daytime, every sign is flashing brightly colored lights. There are people everywhere, some of them dressed in some of the finest clothing I’ve ever seen, and others dressed in things that can only be described as rags. I peer around quickly, eyes wide. "What the hell kind of town is this!?"

The driver of the truck turns only slightly. "This is New Vegas. Some folks call it the City of Sin. Can’t understand why."

Judging by the massive amount of prostitutes standing near the buildings out in broad daylight, I can probably guess why. I raise my eyebrows and turn to Wolfwood. His cigarette dangles precariously from his open mouth before falling to the bed of the truck.

Okay, due to the fact that Wolfwood seems to be a little busy at the moment, it’s time to mentally weigh our options. We could stay here in this rather questionable town that quite frankly scares the crap out of me or we could continue on with this guy in a truck that could very well breakdown in the middle of nowhere, causing us to have to hoof it either back here or to another town. Considering that Wolfwood has very little money on him and I probably have even less, I don’t think it’s a good idea to stay here. We’d have to get jobs of some sort to quickly save up for another mode of transportation. I don’t think I’d particularly care to work in a place like this.

Option number two, then. I turn to Wolfwood, who still has his mouth hanging open as he looks around. Shaking my head, I turn toward the driver as he slows to a stop near a building that proudly proclaims, "Peep Shows."

"Excuse me, sir?" He turns to face me. "Could we maybe travel with you to the next town on your route?"

He shrugs nonchalantly and turns back to put the truck into gear. "Fine with me, but it’s a long drive to the next town."

"That’s fine." Relieved that we don’t have to stay here, I sigh and turn back around, leaning back against Wolfwood, who seems to be catatonic. "In case you were wondering, Wolfwood, this isn’t our stop."

He does a double take at sign above where we had previously stopped and then turns to me. "Oh... that’s good." His voice sounds relieved even though his face still conveys a feeling of absolute confusion over the whole ordeal.

I wish I could say that I was just as confused, but I’ve been here before. Only thing is, back when I was here, it was much different. There were no prostitutes on the sides of the road or huge buildings with names that seem to have hidden meanings. Everything was fairly small. This was, however, a town very obsessed with the idea of gambling, which I never took part in. I was pretty much just passing through. Funny how time can change things so dramatically.

I’m just glad we don’t have to stay here, that we hitched a ride with such a generous old man. This place seems even more strange than it had been back then.

Sometimes I wonder if God hates me. I really do. Just as I think to myself how nice it will be to not have to stay here, the truck beneath us makes a horrible sound that resembles someone with a diseased cough, sputters out a huge plume of black smoke, and slowly but surely rolls to a complete stop.

The driver curses in a rather furious manner and jumps out of the truck, throwing his hat onto the ground and stomping on it. I sigh dejectedly and begin heft myself up over the side of the truck and onto the ground. I walk over to the side of the truck that Wolfwood seems to be glued to. He stares at me strangely. "Why did we stop?"

Scrunching up my face, one side of my lip raised and eyes squinted to give him one of the strangest looks ever given to a person, I state, "Wolfwood, we broke down."

He mirrors the look given to him and jams his foot into the large cross, giving it a hefty shove and sending it flying right out the back of the truck, breaking the small rickety door off in the process. My eyes widen at the cruel treatment of his most trusted possession. "Viva New Vegas," he mutters half-heartedly before jumping out the side of the truck and walking around to pick up his abused Punisher.

The old man, who had previously been throwing a temper tantrum over his broken down truck waddles over to me, looking rather angry. "Your friend broke my tailgate!" he bellows at me, jabbing a plump finger at Wolfwood, who is walking aimlessly around, the bottom of his cross making a path in the dirt behind him.

I blink rapidly at him, wondering why he’s yelling in my face when it wasn’t me who broke it. "I... noticed?"

"You damn well better pay for that to get fixed!"

I allow myself to slump a bit. Having to pay for this guy’s tailgate to be fixed is definitely going to cut into the money we have to save up to get out of here. "Okay, sir. We’ll be sure to do that."

He smiles sardonically and crosses his arms, nearly resting them upon bulging midsection. "Well then gimme your names and where you’ll be staying. I’ll make sure to find you to collect the money."

"I don’t know where we’ll be staying."

"Try the ‘Vortex.’ It’s cheap. Now gimme your names."

I frown and cast a wary glance at Wolfwood, who is now staring at someone who, judging by the fair amount of stubble upon its face, seems to be a man in women’s clothing. "That’s Nicholas D. Wolfwood, and I’m Vash."

I’d almost expected him to question me about any relation to Vash the Stampede. Luckily, he doesn’t. Maybe he’s lived under a rock his whole life. He nods and quickly disperses, walking across the street to a place that is more than likely a tavern.

I shake my head in dismay and glance back at Wolfwood, who has now grown bolder and seems to be stalking the previous man. Hunched over a bit and still dragging the cross behind him, he stealthily walks up to him and ever so slowly reaches out a finger, as if to touch his arm. The man grabs Wolfwood’s wrist. "You wanna play, you gotta pay, big boy," he says in a rather deep, husky voice. Wolfwood makes a strangled sound and pulls away from him, suddenly aware of his surroundings.

I look at him pathetically. He looks back. We stare at each other. He opens his mouth to speak. For a moment, no sound comes forth. Finally, voice a bit higher than usual, he says, "We have got to get out of here."

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