~~~~
Oh here you are, there's nothing left to say
You're not supposed to be that way
Did they push you out? did they throw you away?

Touch me now and I don't care
When you take me I'm not there
Almost human, but I'll never be the same
[Long Way Down - Goo Goo Dolls]
~~~~

"TONGARI! What happened?!" The dark shadow of Nicholas' broad cross fell across Vash's face as the blonde cradled the fallen child in his lap, his face a mask of torn concern. The suns were raging overhead, and the heat alone was enough to drive most people indoors - the street was abandoned save for the dusty, bloody trio. Wolfwood wasn't sure what had happened to the girl, but as soon as Midvalley had left he had shouldered his weapon and dashed down the stairs to find Vash hugging Kira tightly, seemingly unable to move. "Is that Kira?"

"Y-yeah," the blonde whispered, looking up at Wolfwood with terror in his wide eyes, his expressoin mirroring the young, injured girl's. Her tiny arms were folded tightly over her stomach, but there was too much blood for the extent of the damage to be seen. "She came up screaming that Kern was gone and...the ring? Wolfwood, she's going to d-"

Flinching, the priest patted his shouldered cross (more to reassure himself than to make the man before him feel any better). Those innocent eyes made him nervous - the trusting way they seemed to believe that he alone could change anything... Just like the kids back home. "Look, Vash, get up," he cut the blonde off before he could panic the child further. "Take her to the nearest hospital, there's one three blocks that way - and hurry, she's losing blood!" Vash stood weakly with a nod, his pale face glimmering with tears. The sight of such brutal fear made Wolfwood's heart contract, and he narrowed his eyes slightly, pushing Vash in the right direction with an impersonal palm - he had to be careful when they touched, lest it distract him too much to effectively fight against this Ring, whatever it was.

"Wolfwood?" God, Vash sounded adorable when he said his name like that, all breathy and questioning... "...where are you-?"

"I'm going to find this Ring," the priest growled gruffly, "and take care of it." For a moment he considered leaving without another word, but then caught Vash's shoulder and spun him, lowering his own face down until he was level with the child. "Kira? Kira, can you hear me?"

The girl's head lolled, making Wolfwood scowl deeply rather than display his concern. Long ago he had learned that anger would intimidate an enemy, but fear was a weakness that would always be exploited. A scowl was something nobody would question, and thus it had become his automatic response when things went wrong - in a way, it was just like Vash's smile. Something safe to hide behind when the world became a little too scary. "Kira!"

"Ah..."

"Good, good girl. Stay awake for Vash, okay Kira?" Wolfwood asked in his most honest, 'big-brother-Nick-wants-to-help-you-out' tone of voice. Not only did the girl turn to look at him, but Vash also looked at him in surprise, as if he couldn't believe such tenderness could enter his friend's voice. "Can you tell me where they took Kern? If you do I can go get him. Do you know where Kern is?"

The child sobbed something hysterical and buried her face against Vash's trenchcoat, tiny fingers plucking loosely at the fabric. Wolfwood couldn't make out what she'd said, but Vash brushed his hand across her cheek gently, then looked up, a hint of determination returning to his eyes. "Warehouse district. A blue-roofed building?"

The priest nodded and pressed his midnight sunglasses over his eyes, flashing Vash a curious gaze from behind the dark lenses. "Okay. Get her out of here."

"Don't go in without me, Wolfwood," Vash called over one shoulder as he began sprinting for the nearest medical facility, though both knew that request would be ignored.

Wolfwood paused a moment before turning the corner, then slipped his hand up the side of the cross on his shoulder and unwrapped his weapon.

~~

The warehouse was just that, a long, squat building with blue-gray slate tiles on the room, the gaping windows were cracked and shattered by previous gunfights. Wolfwood stared at the facade and frowned - "Gotta find another way in," he muttered and began creeping around to the side. How many times had he done this, broken into a shabby building - or worse, how many times had he been on the other side, selling his soul for the innocent children he saw twice a year at best?

There! Midway on the left he found a small door for deliveries, and tried the handle- locked, of course. Wolfwood pulled out a small pistol and shot through the metal twice, then tried the door again.

Inside the air was rank and sticky, smelling of sweaty bodies and stale bread, opressive. Wolfwood hacked a few moments, trying to ease his breathing before continuing, glaring around himself suspiciously into the darkened corners of the hallway he had entered. He wasn't really sure what he was going to find there - other than the boy Kern, how many children had this 'Ring' picked up, and what were their intentions? Wolfwood ran through possibilities in his mind - child slavery rings an uncommon but very real problem in the larger cities on Gunsmoke. Little Jersey, however, was not *that* large... It could be a drug ring of some sort, but that would hardly require children to support....

Voices echoed through the corridor to his left, Wolfwood hunkered down behind a stack of crates, his Cross Punisher digging painfully into his ribs as he shifted positions, listening silently.

"I don't think he can get that much for such a small one..."

"It's none of our concern, if his asking price is too high, then..."

The priest sighed as the two passed him, making note of the conversation. It sounded just like a slavery ring, bidding young things off to the highest paying customer... The thought made him wince. Another unpleasant childhood nightmare could be eradicated by bringing this ring to light... **If that's what they're doing, the kids will be held somewhere near the middle. I need to take out as much of the oppositions as possible or Vash will show up and ruin my chances...**

With a growl he burst from behind the crates he had been using as a shield, taking out the two men in the hallway with a grim smirk. The shots seemed unnaturally loud in the heavy air, and Wolfwood immediately began moving again, knowing his only chance in survival was to pick them off one by one while not allowing himself to be cornered. If it came down to a firefight, the enemy would undoubtedly have the advantages of both numbers and ammo...

Turning a corner, he shouldered his cross and reloaded one of his hand held pistols, gritting the bullets in his teeth as he slipped them into the weapon. "Here we go," the priest muttered, dive-rolling into the next corridor.

There was one gaurd who didn't even look up as Wolfwood entered, and the priest took him down with a swift shot through the head, painless and without honor. "Sorry," he whispered softly, brushing past the young man with a sigh, "but not all of us can die a hero's death." Scowling at his own sentimentalism, Nicholas ran thick fingers through the man's coat, fishing out what seemed to be an ID tag and reading down the information. There was nothing that clued him in on the name of the Ring or anyone involved, so he tossed the card aside and burst in through the door the gaurd had been standing at -

Damn. Wolfwood's eyes widened slightly as he took in long strings of tables and about thirty surprised bodies, all the faces in what could only be the mess hall turning and staring at him. "SHIIIIIIIIIIT!" the priest cried, hauling his cross over his shoulder and opening fire on the crowd.

It was quick, and after emptying his cross and reloading once, he shot a single shell into the smoky clouds of debris for good measure and got the hell out of there, alarms clanging in his wake as the whole area was alerted of his break-in. **Shit, shit, shit,** the dark-haired man scowled as he pelted down the hall, skidding roughly and whipping around another corner, **Of all the rooms in the building I had to break into the cafeteria! Why the hell were they gaurding that?!**

Things were getting darker now, the lights were flickering here and there and the air was even more stale, if such a thing was possible. Wolfwood began checking through doors, ducking down and hiding when swarms of men passed him by in search of the intruder. Most of the areas had chains welded to the walls or were storage rooms of some sort - the priest helped himself to extra ammo before continuing his search.

"There he is!"

Wolfwood gritted his teeth and spun around, facing off with three young men bearing long-nosed shotguns. The first began firing with a loud crack-and-hiss of shot piling against wood and metal. The priest ducked and spun to one side, cocking his gun and firing over one shoulder with gritted teeth, bracing himself against the onslaught of bruising kick-back and stinking smoke. A cloud of smoke rose up as his shell missed, and Wolfwood took the opportunity of distraction to jump in and club the three with his massive metal weapon. They crumpled at his feet and he punctuated his attack with three life-ending shots, smiling in satisfaction as the blood leaked out around his boots in a pooling red puddle.

Was he killing just because Vash would hate it? Part of Wolfwood guessed so - he didn't normally take so much pleasure in destroying the lives of another, and Vash's selfless morals made Wolfwood want to buck free and defy those damned sad eyes. Anything to snap tongari's shell open, even anger or hatred would be preferable to that false, emotionless smile. A taste of a true feeling, not a fake front...

Another half of his mind told him he was enjoying this simply because of his past, and what had been done to him. Because he liked the smell of gunsmoke, because revenge was sweet and pleasing... He shoved that half aside, disliking it as much as he understood it.

And then a bullet caught him in the bicep in his moment of distraction, and Wolfwood groaned, turning to see several gun barrels pointed at his forehead.

"Shit..." Slowly the priest dropped his two pistols and began lowering his cross, raising one free hand in a sign of surrender. For a moment he thought that was it - that was the end - then -

The explosion caught him completely off-gaurd and flung his injured body back against the wall with a sickening thunk. Wolfwood instantly recognized the following swirl and flourish of endless music, a sudden grin spreading across his face as he righted himself amongst the rain of falling plaster. There was only one saxophone player who could pull of a damned fancy turn-and-glis while sounding sarcastic and deadly all at once-

Several walls around him had been knocked out as well as a portion of the roof, though all of the gaping holes were filled with a foggy, dark smoke that made gauging his enemies whereabouts impossible. Wolfwood turned, half-expecting Midvalley to appear out of the haze and join him.

A bullet whizzed past his ear, making the priest jump and spin as wreckage crashed down somewhere to his left. Where *where* they, damn it? He whipped off his sunglasses and stared hard, trying to discern shadow phantoms from real attackers - was that one? He fired a few shots, but was greeted with the bouncing clangs of metal hitting metal.

Dadum. Dadum. Heart pounding, the priest raised his gun a bit higher in his own defense - and when something hit him from behind, slamming and rolling him across the ground in a flash of red, all Wolfwood could think was that he'd finally been taken down. Something sharp struck him in the back of the skull and soft hands caught his suit as the world turned from gray to fuzzy-red to black all in the course of a heartbeat, and the priest passed out against the floor.

~~~~
Long way down, I don't think I'll make it on my own
Long way down, I don't want to live in here alone
Long way down, I don't think I'll make it on my own
I never put you down, I never pushed you away
You're not supposed to be that way
And anything you want, there's nothing I could say

Is there anything to feel?
Is it pain that makes you real?
Cut me off before it kills me
~~~~

Gunfire. Hazy and far-away, though something was pounding in his head, going off right by his right ear. And there was a gold metal object across his ankles - probably the cross punisher, he guessed. Wolfwood took a deep breath and promptly choked on the dust coating his suit -

"Oh, you're awake? About time."

That voice...it wasn't Midvalley's. For some reason, Wolfwood had been expecting to see the musician, not the blonde gunman that was currently stradling his waist. He had expected eyes the dark brown of laquered mahogany and a proud smirk, not gentle, cool aquamarine that enveloped him like a soft breeze. H coughed twice and tried to get his bearings - the fight must have reached a stalemight while he had been asleep, that was the only explanation... Blinking the dirt from his dark lashes, Wolfwood groped around in his coat and fished out a cigarette, pressing it between his lips and fumbling for a light. Three attempts were made at the pockets of his suit, and all came up empty - "Lost my fuckin' matches," the priest growled in the way of a greeting.

"Sorry about that. Your head hurt?" A round of gunfire, and then the soft question, Vash's tone cooly casual despite the situation, almost...cold? Angry? Wolfwood shifted his weight and groaned again, from both the shattering pain in his head and the sudden awareness of Vash's warm body sprawled across him. With a sigh, the priest shifted and tried to look up, merely earning himself a clear view of Vash's pale chin and warm neck inches away from his nose. They were so close he could practically see the fluttering pulse beneath the skin, could hear the gentle rustle of fabric as the other panted in the dusty air.

Something wet hit his cheek. "Vash?" the priest asked shakily, lifting his fingers and wiping it away, staring when it proved to be a droplet of blood. "Vash, are you alright?"

The blonde ducked, bullets whizzing over his head and embedding themselves in the wall behind him with several thin cracks. For a moment his upturned nose was mashed against Wolfwood's neck, his breathing hot against the other's skin, then he pulled back and looked Wolfwood in the eye. All down each of his cheeks were smears of crimson, salty stains that were garish on his pale peach-flesh... As unsightly as his scars.

Vash was *crying blood*.

And Wolfwood, with a sense of crushing shock, realized why. He had been so proud, so confident as he burst into the building and extinguished each life he came across... Vash must have followed him, passing each and every kill, stopping and touching the throat with trembling hands, waiting just long enough for the scanty pulse to prove itself gone, then moving onwards, wearing that damned look of desperation and tucking his coat tighter around his body...

The blonde gunman turned away, obviously unwilling to speak as he lifted his left arm and fired another round out of his second gun. Wolfwood's voice caught in his throat for a moment, the firefight forgotton, the tense, warm weight of flesh on his thighs pushed aside as he swore at his faults, for his mistake. For being himself. For everything.

**He's....because of me, he's...**

"You didn't need to." The voice was hurt, betrayed, as empty as the smile Wolfwood had picked apart the moment they first met.

"I know. I knew. I just..."

"You didn't need to, and you-" the blonde ducked again, pressing his red-clad body tightly against Wolfwood's side- the priest had to shift a bit to make sure certain portions of his anatomy didn't ruin the closeness of the moment. "-don't have the right to decide who lives and who dies. You believe in God, leave that up to him."

Wolfwood closed his eyes and inhaled the soft scent of Vash's golden hair, heady even beneath the overlaying taste of smoke and gunpowder. It was so difficult to put this adoring hate into words that wouldn't push him further away than necessary, but Wolfwood tried, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth as he battled for an answer... "I'm not like you. You're....good. You're perfect. How can you expect others to swallow you fractured logic, tongari-?"

The blonde's lips parted gently, and he whispered softly. "Don't call me that."

Wolfwood reached out and ran a thumb along Vash's cheekbone in something that was almost an apology and almost a caress, their noses only inches apart as their breaths mingled in the sticky, hot air. Closer, then, as he wiped the blood away gently and lifted his fingers to his lips, tasting the stuff - then licking it away. Taking it in. A tiny, salty portion of Vash's perfection that would have to last until he could figure out a way to take him in more completely.

Vash stared at the priest, saying nothing, while his eyes asked a thousand confused questions. Why? I thought we were friends? How could you? Why can't you understand me? "I can't say I'm sorry, Vash. I think they deserved it. But right now there are children to save...and I won't do it again, not where you can see it." A thin promise at best, but evidently enough to make Vash turn and shift again, standing slightly and reloading his silver sharpshooter. "....please.... Vash."

One second passed, then two, and aquamarine eyes tinged with blood softened and looked away, the mask slipping back into place even as Wolfwood watched.

"Get your weapon," Vash whispered, "We're going to have to haul ass from here on out."


~~~~
Long way down, I don't think I'll make it on my own
Long way down, I don't want to live in here alone
Long way down, I don't think I'll make it on my own
I never put you down, I never pushed you away
Take another piece of me
Give my mind a new disease
And the black and white world never fades to gray
Long way down, I don't think I'll make it on my own
Long way down, I don't want to live in here alone
Long way down, I don't think I'll make it on my own
~~~~