Authors Note:
I know his thoughts are slightly jumbled, sometimes I have a hard time organizing my own thoughts, and getting it to sound just right, so after many times reading and rereading, I'm pretty sure this is as good as its going to get.
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I'm one of the bad guys. Something I've just realised.

It makes me laugh to think that I caught on to such a blatant fact so late in my life. So how did I come to this realisation? It wasn't some random epiphany. I wasn't walking along one day and suddenly thought, Hey, maybe I'm not one of the goodguys.

It was a look. Her look. A look that is forever burned into my memory, deeper than that of anyone I've killed. It wasn't a look of disgust, a look of hatred, or even anger. It was a look of dissapointment, in the eyes of the last person I ever wanted to dissapoint.

Now I would do anything to turn back the clock. To have taken a moment and thought before
acting. To not have killed Zazie.. No, not because I regret killing him. His death isn't eating away at my mind the way it is with Vash, which only serves to reinforce that fact that I am a bad guy, but because I would do anything to forget that look in her eyes. It haunts my every waking thought, and most of my sleeping ones as well.

"Mr. Priest? Oh good you're here." She pops her head in the door, face painted with that beautiful smile of hers. "Meryl and I made some sandwiches, you can have some if you like.. You like your coffee black, right?"

This is yet another thing that tears me apart, a trend she started shortly after what happened with Zazie, acting as if the nothing happened, it kills me.

Why doesn't she just get angry at me? Yell at me. Anything. I can handle anger, if she was angry at me, then at least I'd know what was going on in her head. But she just goes about feigning carefree innocence, leaving me clueless.

She doesn't hate me though. I know that much, if she hated me she wouldn't bring me sandwiches. I love her sandwiches. Sometimes I almost wish she did. Hate me I mean. Then I wouldn't feel so guilty about being the type of person I am.

But what does she feel for me? God..I really wish I knew. For a while I thought she was starting to care, but I'm not so sure anymore.

I hear her bustling around in the kitchen. Goddamnit! How can she act so carefree? A little emotion would be nice. Even Meryl shows that she's upset about the whole thing, if only a little.

"Why don't you say anything? ... About the boy I killed!" No answer. But she heard me, she's stopped clinking around in the sink. Why did my voice have to sound so cold?

Dead silence, I can barely even hear her breathing. Oh please say something, the quiet is tearing me apart. I hear her breath catch, as if she is about to cry. No, God, please don't let her cry, I wouldn't know how to deal with it.

"I-I don't know what to say.." Her voice is so soft, scared almost. "What you said was right..And what Mr. Vash said was right as well. I don't like people having to die but-"

"What would you have done?" C'mon Milly...tell me who's right.. Tell me why he can think and live like that, but I can't. I need to know.. Give me an answer.

"I don't know.." Well that makes two of us..

"I don't know either, I don't understand him. How can he say such things in this time and place? How can he say them seriously?" She smiles and hands me a cup of coffee, as if all of the answers I seek are held in the black liquid.

"Because it's what he has always done." So thats it. Force of habit. He's always done the right thing, and I've always done the wrong.. "I know because I've been watching him, Mr. Vash has lived his entire life like that."

Here I am, staring into the hot coffee she gave me, waiting for the answers to come. I've lived a different life than he has..and used it as an excuse to be the person I am, but I'm not fooling anyone.

I've been ordered to protect him, to guide him, but those things don't matter anymore, I honestly wanted to save him. Even if it meant killing a child, I wanted to save him.

I have to choose one or the other, and even without thinking about it, I know which I'll choose, just because I know it will take me on a path to being more like him. Being more like the person I want to be, the person she wants me to be, and deserves to have.

So here I sit, staring into a mug full of coffee..crying.

"Its strange to wonder, where did I go wrong? I've...I've always tried to make the right choices...haven't I?" And now I want to know..when did I become a bad guy?

I drop the coffee cup on the ground, let my tears flow more freely, and suddenly her arms are around me, she's so warm.

"You smell nice.." She smells like laundry detergent and.. and what else? Flowers? A perfume? She doesn't seem the type.

"You should eat your sandwiches." Her voice is shaking, is she afraid of me?

No, not afraid, nervous.

"Only if you eat them with me." Now she's pulled me tighter into her arms, and is wiping the tears away, her hands surprisingly soft. And I'm looking into her eyes, she's looking at me with such an expression that nearly wipes away all memory of that look she gave me after I killed Zazie.

Her eyes are filled with such hope, I want to take her into my arms and hold her until the rest of the world is just a vague memory.

When did I start feeling like this? It just sort of creeped up on me. Of course I've always cared, well..most of the time. I care for them all, but since when did I care this much?

I can't even remember the last time I felt so much for a single person. Have I ever? There were girls before, sure, just nameless faces though, one night stands.

"Mr. Wolfwood?" It makes me laugh when she calls me 'mister'. She's the only person who has ever called me 'mister.'

"Milly, I'd rather you not call me that."

She's blushing now. Not sure why I expected anything different, she calls The Stampede "Mr. Vash" and I'll quit smoking when I hear her call Meryl anything other than "Ma'am." For someone as friendly as she is, Milly is very formal.

I reach up, touching the back of my hand against the heat of her cheak, and find myself
shaking. Why?

"Nicholas?" This simple act of her using my given name makes me smile, I'm rarely called anything but 'Wolfwood.' "You're trembling."

"So are you." She blushes again and looks away and I become aware of the tears running down her cheeks. Instinctively I wrap my arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace.

"Please..." I'm completely dumbfounded as to what to say, I'm rather lacking in the consolation department. "Why are you crying?"

She simply leans her head into my shoulder and cries into the lapel of my suit.

"Please Milly, Please stop crying.." I steal myself not to join her, but seeing her shoulders shake, feeling her hands clenching tightly on the sleeves of my jacket, I'm overcome.

The emotion overwhelms me. Too much emotion, as if seeing this normally strong woman broken down in sobs releases all the pain I've felt over the years, but never acknowledged. I cry again, and realise that this woman placed into my life by some oddly devine act of God has suddenly become more important than anything was before.

She, and her friends have changed me. I can feel it. I'm still a bad guy, I'm not denying it; but now I seem to have aquired a few redeeming qualities. I feel more than I did, and I'm not talking about her silken hair against my cheek. I'm talking about pure emotion.

I've been hiding behind my trademark sarcasm for so many years that the release of crying, holding someone in my arms, and sharing a true emotion makes me smile through my tears, and before I know it both of our sobs have stopped, and I'm beginning to wonder what it would feel like to kiss her.