LAST RITES
I followed the bloodtrail to the great double doors of the worn little church, dreading to step inside, but hoping...hoping that you merely needed my help.
I stare...I stare in the horror of what I see, you, lying there...not moving, not breathing, my premonitions come to life. God...this can't be happening. God, why him? Why now? Why does this happen to everyone I love? Why do people give their lives for me? Nick, oh, Nick! Please, don't be dead! I need you!
I kneel beside you and place my fingers on the paling skin of your neck. No pulse...Dammit, Nick, why didn't you just come to me? Was it pride? Did you feel that your wounds were hopeless? I look at you. Yes...I suppose you would rather come here than to let me and the girls try in vain to heal you and watch you die slowly.
I stroke your cheek. The skin of your face is still warm. I almost expect you to jump up and laugh at me holding a tomato juice bottle. "I pulled a fast one on you, Vash! Ha, ha!"
Get up, Nick. This isn't funny anymore. The joke's over. Get up!
No...what am I saying? You really are gone. Why do they leave me? Why do the ones I love always leave me? I am so tired of walking alone. Is it my destiny? My curse?
My face is wet and my eyes are stinging. Through blurry vision I see my tears mingling with your blood on the floor. You did this for me, didn't you? You chose not to kill, and walked away, didn't you? You gave into my philosophy, and now you're dead because of it. I never wanted you to be a martyr, Nick. If anyone should be lying here, it should be me, not you.
I look up at your Punisher cross as I hold your head in my arms. You're a priest; you would have wanted last rites, wouldn't you? I've believed in your God for a long time, but it's been years since I've been to any kind of church service, let alone a Catholic Mass. I really don't know how to go about this.
I search your pockets until I find one of your stale old Communion wafers. I break off a piece and place it between your lips. They're blue, Nick...your lips are blue... Great, I'm crying again. If you could speak to me right now, I'm sure you tell me to stop being such a baby. I'm sorry, Nick.
I trace an invisible cross on your forehead with my thumb and forefinger, and I pray. God, take care of him, please. I want you to give him rest, your perfect love, and your perfect peace.
I lay you back down. May you go with God, my friend.
I can taste the salt of my tears on my lips as I rise to go. I have to dig a grave for you. That's it, that's what I have to do. I don't want the town coroner to do it. He did not know you. I'll do it myself. Where to find a shovel...first I need to change out of this jacket...it's soaked in your blood...I can smell it coming off the cloth.
The light of the suns burns my eyes. I...can't walk...I stumble...I'm too weak to walk. I'm on my knees and a shadow comes over me. No...I don't want her to go inside. I don't want her to see...either of them to see...
"Vash?" ...Meryl's voice... "Vash, what's happened? What's wrong?"
I don't want to tell her. I don't want it to be real. I told you that I couldn't save the sniper...and you said that I would save someone the next time. I couldn't save you...
"Vash? Please, tell me what's wrong? Why are you so upset? Your coat! Vash, please tell me, are you injured? We have to get you somewhere safe quick!"
"N-No..." I choke. "W-Wolfwood..."
Her face goes pale. Then she notices the bloodtrail leading up the steps of the church. She accends the first step.
"No!" I cry. "Please, don't go in there! I don't want you to see...I don't want Milly to see..."
"Vash," she says wearily... "I have to."
I beg her not to, but she steps inside. A few seconds later, I hear her wailing.
S. Nordwall, "Shadowcat", '01
I followed the bloodtrail to the great double doors of the worn little church, dreading to step inside, but hoping...hoping that you merely needed my help.
I stare...I stare in the horror of what I see, you, lying there...not moving, not breathing, my premonitions come to life. God...this can't be happening. God, why him? Why now? Why does this happen to everyone I love? Why do people give their lives for me? Nick, oh, Nick! Please, don't be dead! I need you!
I kneel beside you and place my fingers on the paling skin of your neck. No pulse...Dammit, Nick, why didn't you just come to me? Was it pride? Did you feel that your wounds were hopeless? I look at you. Yes...I suppose you would rather come here than to let me and the girls try in vain to heal you and watch you die slowly.
I stroke your cheek. The skin of your face is still warm. I almost expect you to jump up and laugh at me holding a tomato juice bottle. "I pulled a fast one on you, Vash! Ha, ha!"
Get up, Nick. This isn't funny anymore. The joke's over. Get up!
No...what am I saying? You really are gone. Why do they leave me? Why do the ones I love always leave me? I am so tired of walking alone. Is it my destiny? My curse?
My face is wet and my eyes are stinging. Through blurry vision I see my tears mingling with your blood on the floor. You did this for me, didn't you? You chose not to kill, and walked away, didn't you? You gave into my philosophy, and now you're dead because of it. I never wanted you to be a martyr, Nick. If anyone should be lying here, it should be me, not you.
I look up at your Punisher cross as I hold your head in my arms. You're a priest; you would have wanted last rites, wouldn't you? I've believed in your God for a long time, but it's been years since I've been to any kind of church service, let alone a Catholic Mass. I really don't know how to go about this.
I search your pockets until I find one of your stale old Communion wafers. I break off a piece and place it between your lips. They're blue, Nick...your lips are blue... Great, I'm crying again. If you could speak to me right now, I'm sure you tell me to stop being such a baby. I'm sorry, Nick.
I trace an invisible cross on your forehead with my thumb and forefinger, and I pray. God, take care of him, please. I want you to give him rest, your perfect love, and your perfect peace.
I lay you back down. May you go with God, my friend.
I can taste the salt of my tears on my lips as I rise to go. I have to dig a grave for you. That's it, that's what I have to do. I don't want the town coroner to do it. He did not know you. I'll do it myself. Where to find a shovel...first I need to change out of this jacket...it's soaked in your blood...I can smell it coming off the cloth.
The light of the suns burns my eyes. I...can't walk...I stumble...I'm too weak to walk. I'm on my knees and a shadow comes over me. No...I don't want her to go inside. I don't want her to see...either of them to see...
"Vash?" ...Meryl's voice... "Vash, what's happened? What's wrong?"
I don't want to tell her. I don't want it to be real. I told you that I couldn't save the sniper...and you said that I would save someone the next time. I couldn't save you...
"Vash? Please, tell me what's wrong? Why are you so upset? Your coat! Vash, please tell me, are you injured? We have to get you somewhere safe quick!"
"N-No..." I choke. "W-Wolfwood..."
Her face goes pale. Then she notices the bloodtrail leading up the steps of the church. She accends the first step.
"No!" I cry. "Please, don't go in there! I don't want you to see...I don't want Milly to see..."
"Vash," she says wearily... "I have to."
I beg her not to, but she steps inside. A few seconds later, I hear her wailing.
S. Nordwall, "Shadowcat", '01