Desert Rose
By Sainte Matthewe
Author's Note: Vash the Stampede, and all other related characters or terms are copyright 1997(?) by Yashiro Nightow and 1999(?) by Pioneer. "Desert Rose" words and music are copyright 2000 by Sting.
I dream of rain
I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in pain
I dream of love as time runs through my hands
Rem…
A pair of wide, guileless, and tear-filled turquoise eyes opened as Vash the Stampede awoke with a gasp. He looked about, and sighed, relieved to see the barren little room instead of the sophisticated spaceship that had been the setting of his most recent nightmare. He closed his eyes for a moment, and let the tears run freely down his face.
After a bit, he sat up, and shook his head, hoping to shake off the last vestige of a nightmare woven with true memories. Unfortunately, he couldn't. Looking up at the fifth moon as it glared accusingly down at him, he stood, tired muscles protesting. While he walked to the window, each scar that twinged, and every bit of scar tissue beneath that made itself felt brought all his thoughts back to the dream, and, inevitably, her…
I dream of fire
These dreams are tide to a horse that will never tire
And in the flames
Her shadows play in the shape of a man's desire
As he returned to his bed, Vash really didn't believe he could get back to sleep or that the dreams would return this night. He was wrong on both accounts.
Ah, gods… Not again.
Although more than a hundred years separated him and the "rec-room" of that space ship, Vash found himself there, not as a boy, but as a man in the blood red trench coat he thought he destroyed. Gone was its green tranquility. It was replaced by leaping flames, which did not touch him, but cloaked all he saw. As this fire danced and devoured, two cool shadows appeared amongst them.
This desert rose
Each of her veils, a secret promise
This desert flower
No sweet perfume ever tortured me more than this
He calmly walked towards the closer of the two shadows. The flames parted before him, and showed the figure to be a kneeling woman of long raven hair.
Rem…?
He could not see her face, her dark mane hid it from him, but it seemed she was entranced by a flower reduced to charcoal by the fires that surged around her.
And as she turns
This way she moves in the logic of all my dreams
This fire burns
I realize that nothing is, as it seems
Vash blinked twice, and realized the woman was not untouched by the flames. Her hair was singed, her clothes were so much charcoal. Black skeletal hands reached out to caress the burnt flower, and clasped together in delight as it collapsed in a heap of ashes.
Rem?!
She turned to face him, and he was shown a blackened, grinning skull instead of a much-loved visage.
The second shadow made its approach, and Vash looked up to see darkly amused and cruel blue eyes, which blinked at him from a face he knew as well as his own.
You!
"Take care of Knives, Vash!" exclaimed the kneeling corpse, as the newcomer laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, causing her to go the way of that flower.
He blinked dumbly at the pile of ash, then raised his eyes to glare at the other figure.
REM!!
I dream of rain
I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in pain
I dream of love as time runs through my hands
I'll take care of Knives…
"I'll take care of Knives." Vash heard a voice mutter thickly, as the suns' light alit on his closed eyes. He peeled them open, and blinked at the ceiling. He knew he had spoken in his sleep.
With a heart-wrenching sigh, he stiffly removed himself from the tangle of blanks, and started his morning routine.
I dream of rain
I lift my gaze to empty skies above
I close my eyes, this rare perfume
Is the sweet intoxication of her love
Stumbling down to the inn's common room for breakfast, Vash noted a sideways glance a dark-haired woman in white was giving him over her cup of coffee.
Unbelievable.
He smiled, and straightened up before approaching her.
So much like her…
Sweet desert rose
This memory of Eden haunts us all
This desert flower, this rare perfume
Is the sweet intoxication of the fall
Shoving away the memory of the dream-woman crumbling, he claimed the stool next to the lady in white. "Hey. Long time no see."
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