Some Say Prayers
It was one of those cold nights, characteristic of a desert…. So horribly, unnaturally cold, for land did not hold its heat well enough and there was little to nothing a Plant could do about temperature; that was just a problem a shade too big for one. So, it was cold, as always and everywhere. But that didn't stop Millie Thompson.
She and Senpai were returning to Bernardelli, though she really didn't want to. In her heart, she knew that Senpai would rather find Mr. Vash again and see how he was doing, but there was still a sense of duty in her, no matter how much Vash meant to her. And Senpai was just too stubborn to admit in words what her heart wanted to say. It was dangerous, doing things like that; never speaking your heart….
Millie sighed deeply, and leaned on the open windowsill. Light from two of the moons that appeared that night, full, showered down upon her and surrounded her in a brilliant radiance, reflecting gloriously off her hair and making a halo of sorts, illuminating her skin and her eyes… and little liquid sparkles resting on her eyelashes?
She would not cry, not again. Crying simply wasn't enough, any more. Something had been ripped out of her, part of her heart, her very soul, the one thing she held closer to her heart, the one thing more precious to her than all others… it had been stolen from her so cruelly, and she had nothing left of it but beautiful, horrible memories. Those memories were so wonderful, they filled her with such joy that she thought she would burst from it… the times she had spent with Mr. Wolfwood, his smile, the way he knew she wasn't as dumb as she looked, that there was so much more to her than was obvious… the way his eyes spoke to her, volumes in every look, just to her.
But these memories, though beautiful, brought more pain with that splendor than could be conceived. Never, ever again would she see his smile, understand the silent words he spoke to her, never be with him again—never tell him what she wished she had, she now longed to hear….
'I love you.'
She knew it was true; she'd known it even before that night, before…. Since he'd said his very first words to her alone, on that bus, when they'd first met. No, not his first words—she felt foolish now, thinking of those. And how stupid, her response--! But that didn't matter.
"I've got my pride as a tradesman."
"A tradesman? What do you mean?" Oh, Senpai, if you'd left it that, then maybe he never--!
"I'm a man of the cloth." And he'd smiled, at the both of them, Senpai and herself. That smile, the first time she saw it.
"Do you, like, make pretty dresses?"
Oh, that seemed so long ago! She'd gone so far, seen so much, and she'd lost some of her childish innocence for it. Thinking of that almost embarrassed her, but there wasn't anything wrong with it, being like that. Maybe that was one of the reasons Mr. Wolfwood had loved her so much—she was really little more than a child, on the outside. Just maybe she reminded him of someone he knew, one of those orphans from his church, 300 iles past the city of December, the place where he'd--!
It wasn't his first words, not those at all, but the ones later that'd made her so uncomfortable and nervous that she didn't know what to do.
"Can I sit here?" He smiled again, a smile just for her, Mr. Vash looking out the window in the seat across the aisle and Senpai in the restroom—again.
"Go right ahead." A smile of her own, though not like his. And then—it almost made her blush childishly thinking about it, but not after they'd been together.
He'd leaned against her, resting his head against her chest, smiling again, and simply said, "You're comfy," in a low, almost husky voice, his eyes closed and a pleasant look accompanying that smile. Some frightened, nervous noise had probably come from her at that point, she was sure, but she hadn't protested—and that was the first time that she knew he would be so much more to her than anyone had ever been.
Mr. Wolfwood had—
Mr. Wolfwood.
First it had been 'Mr. Priest,' sounding so childish, and then later 'Mr. Wolfwood,' and even now. It seemed wrong, now that she thought about it, impersonal and detached. Distant, cold…. She had always spoke to him as politely as she could, like a child to an adult. And after they… after all they had felt for each other, was it right…?
No longer would Millie think of him as 'Mr. Wolfwood.' He would be Nicholas, if only in her mind and her sweet, bitter memories of him. Couldn't she do that, just that, even if he was gone?
Nicholas.
Suddenly, she felt a little of that hard pressure, that depression weighing on her heart, escape her. Just a bit, the slightest and tiniest bit. Now, she thought those words again, and maybe a bit more of that horrible feeling left her.
'I love you, Nicholas.'
That was one regret out of so many that she could always remember, but regret no more. With every fiber of her being, she believed that Nicholas was watching over her, an angel in the heaven he had taught of as a priest. He had done many horrible, terrible things in his life, he had taken the lives of many… but it didn't matter. Nicholas had been good and kind, somewhere within him she thought he felt a lot like Vash when it came to harming others. The only reason he had helped Knives had, after all, been to help the children he cared so much about… and he hadn't completely betrayed Mr. Vash, in the end. Nicholas had been a good man, and he couldn't have been anything else, no matter how many people he'd hurt in his life; he'd helped too many besides and been much too nice. So Nicholas was up in his heaven, and he was certainly watching her. For a moment, she thought, if she tried she could feel him… but that was just silly, wasn't it?
So, she had her own angel. Not an angel in the winged, beautiful sense, not as Mr. Vash or Knives, but her own little angel. Someone up in heaven, waiting for her, watching her.
If he was watching her, then maybe he could hear her…. Her thoughts, her words, her regrets, her wishes. And suddenly, she decided that if he could hear her at all, then she should try to speak to him. That's how the decision came about.
Millie let her soul cry out to heaven, and a wonderful prayer for her beloved Nicholas came to her lips, barely any breath at all behind the words when she clasped her hands and stared up at the stars. She prayed, she prayed for a long time, and she knew that Nicholas heard her.
Some say prayers. Millie Thompson says hers every night, for an angel awaits her arrival in Heaven.
I don't own Trigun or anything related (Vash, Wolfwood, Meryl, Millie, or Knives… I'd like to own Legato. Can I buy him?), that belongs to Yasuhiro Nightow and Young King Hours. I don't own the song "Dominion/Mother Russia," from which the title for this was taken, but The Sisters of Mercy, whoever wrote it, and I guess the label they have has a part in it, too. Of course, I haven't seen 23 yet, I just know about it… and Rakuen's been driving me wild every time I listen to it! I couldn't take it any more! So, there. "Some Say Prayers." I own the words, but not the things they talk about or refer to. It wasn't edited or reviewed much at all, so if there are spelling or grammar errors, then I don't care. But if you still wanna tell me, then, by all means, do, and I'll fix them.
Some say prayers
Some say prayers
And I say mine
I originally wasn't going to post this. I was suddenly struck with apathy. And so you get my major suckage. I'll probably get my first flames for this! Make 'em bad, folks, 'cus I've got a strooooong constitution!