~~~~
Love and other moments are just chemical reactions in your brain
And feelings of aggressions are the absence of the love drug in
Your veins
Love come quickly
Because I feel my self-esteem is caving in
It's on the brink
Love come quickly
Because I don't think I can keep this monster in
It's in my skin

[Gunning Down Romance - Savage Garden]
~~~~

The most dramatic difference Wolfwood could feel during the course of the next few days was that the ordeal he and Vash had lived though changed absolutely nothing in their relationship. The simple fact that everything was the same, the way they glanced, the echoing, false laughter, the subtle sensation that neither understood - nor wanted to understand - indicated that honesty was far from present Neither of them wanted to change things, so each in their own turn chose to ignore the issue between them and pretend - or at least, seem to pretend - there had never been a parting of ideals.

The honest realization Nicholas came to while watching Vash move, brooding over the fact that neither of them spoke of it... The silence of the almost the almost-issue simply brought out the painful truth that there *was* no truth between them, that everything they had worked out was a delicately balenced lie, one they were comfortable with and did not know how to live without.

To Wolfwood, it was utterly, miserably, *completely* distracting, almost to the point that his hands shook visably when he neared the blonde. To Vash... well, how could he even begin to guess at what the blonde thought of the tense moments between them? During the day they road Angelina, silent as the dusty wind tore words from their lips, and they fell easily into a routine of stopping at dusk, eating quietly and bedding down at the same side of the fire, side by side as if nothing at all had occured.

Travel was tiring between towns, and when they did manage to stay in a hotel, they shared a room, bantering occasionally between themselves and arguing over which bar to hit first. When they were drunk things were easiest, the layer of alcohol buffering every action and making things safe. During the hours of sobriety, however, Wolfwood was constantly second-guessing Vash's thoughts and feelings.

"Your turn to cook," Vash merrily chunked his bags down into the sand, running fingers through his hair and smiling as Wolfwood groaned at the prospect of work. The night before, Vash had burned their dinner to a crisp and neither had been able to eat any of it, so tonight was officially Wolfwood's night to deal with their meal.

"Right, right," the priest grunted, surveying the area they had chosen for encampment. All day they had been following a thin, packed-dirt road along the side of a deep gorge, and all along the ridge before the sharp drop off there were large boulders strewn carelessly about. Selecting an area with several large stones for wind breaks, they settled down in the shade as the suns set behind them.

Wolfwood unrolled his bedding next to one of the stones and watched as Vash did the same, merrily unpacking his blue bedroll and flopping down on it, stretching out his cramped limbs. The priest pulled off his overshirt and began poking around the rocky terrain, pulling dry, dusty sagebrush up and using it for fuel. Halfway down the canyon there must have been a vein of water, because he managed to locate enough dry fuel to forge a decent fire and crawled back up to the campsite with kindling spilling out of his arms.

~~~~
Love and other socially acceptable emotions are morphine
They're morphine
Cleverly concealing primal urges often felt bur rarely seen
Rarely seen
Love I beg you
Lift me up into that privileged point of view
The world of two
Love don't leave me
Because I console myself that Hallmarkā„¢ cards are true
I really do
~~~~

Vash was sitting on his bag playing cards with himself, murmering noises of sucess or despair beneath his breath as the game progressed, his words, actions and expressions all carefully planned, part of his ploy to keep everything under control, to keep things from ever changing. Like a mask, his half-smile, parted lips full and teeth bare, white like bone - calculated just like the capricious angles of his skyward locks. Wolfwood emptied a few cans of soup into the pot they used for almost all meals - it was encrusted with remnants, but that couldn't be helped - and stirred it over the fire while his mind raced.

There had been something...something important that night, after he had broken down in his drunken state on *that night* - he remembered crying into Vash's shoulder, remembered the soft scent that clung to the other man with surprising clarity, given the alcohol he had ingested at the time. After that was a comfortable haze, blank in details but warm in emotion, as if there was something there he needed to recall but couldn't quite grasp. What had happened?

In a burst of bravery, Wolfwood dared to turn and watch Vash out of the corner of his eye while the contents of their meal bubbled warmly on the fire. The blonde was hunched over, his shirt hanging open and his glasses gone, settled next to his bag, a deck of kuroneko cards smeared out on the cloth before him. The illusion of a normal, happy man was almost complete; everything about Vash seemed utterly.... ordinary. It was almost spooky to see someone so alien, so completely inhuman wearing such a faultless mask. The way he laughed loudly, his fingers as they drummed on the soft padding of his bed roll - it was hard to believe he was such a peaceful fanatic, such a glutton for pain.

Wolfwood decided that he could have been happy there with Vash if it weren't for a number of things... *Honestly* happy to share his travels with another person so complex, so astounding that it made the priest's mind spin just to consider it. That thought numbed him slightly, and when he began to really think about it the concept made his whole being tingle, full of nervous pins and needles like a disused limb when set into motion again. Vash made him *happy,* in the backwards way a proud person is only happy when they are competing against another in a race of wills. Despite all of his quirks, his past, his family - Wolfwood was drawn to Vash inexplicably, and when they were together.... he could almost be happy. He could almost taste the possibility, though in his mind he knew nothing could ever come of it.

"Happiness," he breathed, not realizing he had spoken aloud until Vash's soft query greeted the word.

"Wolfwood?" the blond questioned, surprise in his tone.

The priest looked up through shaggy bangs and shrugged, smiling slightly as Vash sensed his serious train of though, knowing instinctively that Wolfwood was about to shatter the facade of peace that had clothed them for the last few days. "I was just thinking about how foolish the idea of happiness is, that's all."

"Foolish?" Aquamarine eyes regarded him lazily, cool and omnipotent in their depths. "Why do you say that?"

Because- Because it was true! Because happiness was nothing but a cheap ideal dressed up in colored lights by those with clean hands, who didn't understand that what little 'happiness' they had achieved was nothing more than an lack of pain. Happiness was undefinable in itself, hopeless and unattainable- you might as well say you wanted to fly, or try to describe the innocent color of Vash's eyes - it was equally impossible. There was no happiness in beauty - for that was mere expression - no happiness in death, nor new life - one less to care about, to love, or one more soul to feed, bathe, clothe, suffer. Even in the purest place Wolfwood could imagine - his own orphanage, where the children greeted him with outstretched hands and hopefully smiles - there was not one child there with true claim to happiness, for there was always more to the situation than met the eye, always someone in the past to taint the future. Always blood and dirt and tears that forged nations, partnerships, and money, that raised the next generation of hopeless parents and abandoned young.

So why did he feel that happiness was foolish, happiness being a simple concept, something far beyond the grasp of mortals? "Because I've been searching all my life for some form of happiness, and I've never found a trace of it." the priest grimaced and scraped the side of the pot with the ladel in his hands, sloshing the liquid around once more before pouring it out into two chipped ceramic bowls.

Vash thought about that for a few moments as he gave up on his cards and shuffled the deck away, then flopped back on his blanket and cupped a chin in one hand, regarding Wolfwood seriously for the first time in days, his meal untouched. The priest could almost see the way Vash grasped his words in the fleeting expressions of mingling sadness and denial that washed across his face. "That's because you're looking too hard," he said at last, his tone as thoughtful as his expression.

Looking too hard? Wolfwood jerked around and found himself staring into Vash's eyes, both of them surprised by the other's words, by the stark differences in their ways of life. It was a bare, open, painfully intimate moment - as if their hearts were brushing together gently beneath the setting suns - and the priest turned away first, finding it impossible to meet the conviction in Vash's face for any longer.

"You don't even know what you're looking for. I don't believe in dreams."

Vash looked oddly saddened by that, and Wolfwood cleared his throat, scowling at the way his blonde companion's eyes seemed to fill with tears that would not allow themselves to be shed. **It's an act,** he reminded himself bitterly, staring down into the bowl in his hands. All that innocence, vulnerability - it wasn't truly there. **It's not real at all.**

That thought should have given him strength, but instead it stuck within him and refused to leave his mind. Fake, false, a lie, the eyes of a liar, don't trust, don't believe, don't regret-

And here he was, hypocritical as ever, asking for honesty when all he could deliver was an equally thick passal of untruths... Of course it was human nature to take and never give, that was undeniable, but Wolfwood still felt a wave of shame sweep over his mind as he considered his position. Shame for himeself, who had never looked past his own purposes save for the sake of children. Why did this have to happen? How could Vash's simple gaze bare him so open, render him speechless and confused in a way he had never experianced before?

Vash's bangs were hanging in his eyes like a thousand glittering golden cobwebs, defining the aquamarine pools with gilted thread. Perfect lips opened and closed as he ate, and Wolfwood had to supress a smile as Vash managed to spill food down his chin, yipping softly at the burning stuff - **So young.** The illusion of an innocent was a good one, and for a moment Wolfwood could almost believe Vash was who he seemed to be - a wandering gunman looking for love - and peace - and nothing more. **Fool,** he thought almost unconsciously. **You should tell-**

Tell him? Hah. There was nothing to tell.

The sky was setting, layers of color peeling away from brilliant blue to a half-midnight shade, lighter than Wolfwood's jacket, though not by much. The priest scarfed down his food with single-minded concern, wincing at the bitter aftertaste of the stew as it burned it's way down his throat. "Well, it's better than last night's meal," he shrugged, and Vash laughed slightly, voice hollow in the dying twilight.

"Yeah, isn't it? How much sake do we have left?" Vash asked hopefully, a grin on his face - all traces of his previous thoughtful demeanor wiped away by that ever present smile. Wolfwood shoved his bowl towards the fire and grinned back, the happy expression painfully difficult to yield. The moment between the two of them was gone - to say anything now would only earn him a look of confusion or a round of weak laughter and sorry cover-ups. Better to leave it at this, better to pretend the temptation had never occured and survive a little longer at his side.

~~~~
I'm gunning down romance
It never did a thing for me
But heartache and misery
Ain't nothing but a tragedy

Love don't leave me
~~~~

When Wolfwood first awoke, he wasn't sure what had dragged him to conciousness. All around the night seemed to be normal, filled with the soft hum of sand-cicadas and the gentle sound of wind whistling through stone. The fire had died long before and even it's remains had ceased their breathy crackling beneath the globe-like moons above, lending the night an almost spooky sense of perfection.

The priest sat up, running a hand through his hair, and turned. Vash's sleeping bag was empty, his shirt and shoes gone - heart in throat, Wolfwood turned and made sure his bike was still present. It was, and the priest breathed a sigh of relief, rubbing at his eyes sleepily. What had made him wake?

Something brushed the back of his mind, a sense of foreboding that loomed like a thunderhead. Instinctively Wolfwood reached for his gun, but as his hands clasped around the soft trappings of the cross punisher, the world seemed to explode in a shower of dirt and stone.

Nicholas D. Wolfwood was slammed into the boulder behind him and scrabbled around for a weapon as the entire campsite tilted to the left and then was half-buried beneath the bursting earth. When a shadow crossed the moon, Wolfwood looked up fearfully and recognized his attacker-

"SAND WORM!" the one called Chapel choked back his terror and leapt to his feet, his side aching where it had struck the stones. "SHIIIT!"

Looming overhead was the massive wedge-shaped skull of one of Gunsmoke's most deadly predators - one of the few native animals that resided on the planet. Hairy, sticky with residue and mud from deep underground, the worm's segmented body slipped left and right, cutting through the air loosely as it tasted the scents on the wind.

Moments later Wolfwood narrowed his eyes, swallowing back the shock that was bubbling about in his mind and making rational thoughts impossible. The worm above shifted and turned it's head, then let out a second bellow, one that Wolfwood could recognize. It was calling to keep away others, staking claim to it's meal - and that meal was Wolfwood. What did he know about worms?

A number of things happened at once right then, as the worm writhed overhead. From somewhere a shot rang out and the worm leapt backwards, tenticals whipping overhead as it howled in pain. As it moved, light fell on the site below, and Wolfwood caught the reflection of moonlight against the buckles of his cross-shaped weapon - he dove and retrieved it, whipping the wrappings off as quickly as he dared without attracting the worm's attention.

Vash had fired, and he momentarily appeared at Wolfwood's side, his trenchbillowy white shirt and slacks flapping in the night breeze, his gun cocked and trained on the worm above. "We have to get off the ground," he told Wolfwood softly, under his breath. "They hunt by searching for sound and heat through the ground below."

The priest nodded grimly, cocking the Cross Punisher with a deft twist of his hand. The sharp clicking made the worm's head swivel with monstrous grace, it's multifaceted eyes glittering in the moonlight. "Don't move," Vash whispered softly, so quietly that Wolfwood couldn't even detect the movement of his lips. "When I count to three, we run in opposite directions," he added softly.

"One....two..." Wolfwood bent his knees fractionally as the worm's hot breath skated over the sand and stank up the air - at last Vash's voice came to three, and each man bolted, running parrallel to the cliff at their side. For a moment the worm seemed confused, then it picked a direction, soaring after Wolfwood with disturbing grace. The priest spat out a swear and vaulted over a boulder, the worm's massive body slinking out of it's hold and over the desert sand.

Vash must have stopped fleeing, because shots rang out in the night, first five blasts at even intervels, then a barrage of metallic clings as the bullets of the man's false arm rained against nearly-impenetrable metal scales. Wolfwood grimaced as the worm didn't even blink, but kept on in it's attack, hurtling through the night towards it's target. Without missing a beat, the priest whirled his weapon around and fired a shell into the beast's gaping mouth. The worm creened as it was struck in the back of the throat, and then there was a blossoming explosion, and the creature fell to the ground, it's head completely disentigrated. Wolfwood allowed himself to relax fractionally, taking a deep breath to clear his head. Where was Vash...?

"You didn't have to kill it," the blonde whispered in his ear, making Wolfwood twitch in surprise. Growling, the priest lurched on his feet and glared at Vash, simultaniously feeling irritated at being snuck up upon and thanking whatever Gods might happen to listen that Vash had survived. The blonde was holding his good arm at an akward angle, though his face betrayed no pain whatsoever.

"Better it than me," Wolfwood whispered softly, then frowned. "Your arm?"

"It's tail caught me on the way down. I didn't expect you to...do that to it..." the blonde shifted and his cybenetic hand whirled for a moment, clicking back into it's normal guise with a soft hiss. Wolfwood lowered his weapon and shook his head in disbelief.

"At least we're alive-"

For the second time that evening, priest and gunman found themselves flung into the darkened sky as the earth beneath them churned with life. Belatedly Wolfwood recalled the defenses the first worm had put up - staking it's claim - against *others* of it's species. **Damn it,** he gritted his teeth and fumbled with his cross as he sailed towards the ground, **Gotta hurry-**

The worms burst out of the ground - three of them, and one immediately began feasting on the fallen corpse, sending splatters of gore skittering across the sand. Wolfwood landed at the edge of the gorge and looked left and right, seeking Vash's support -

Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of the blonde, but when he turned Wolfwood's heart leapt into his throat. Vash's figure was falling, one hand outstretched as if he was grasping at the cliff edge above - "VASH!" the priest shouted, stumbling forward in his haste. For a moment he teetered at the edge of the cliff, eyes wide as Vash's brilliantly colored body was swallowed by the dark shadows of the deep cleft, then shoved himself backwards with all the force he could muster, eyes flashing with fury.

One worm struck, and the priest rolled desperately to the side, his mind reeling as the thick scales slammed into his left arm and sliced into the muscles of his shoulder through the white cotton of his dress shirt. Groaning, Wolfwood hauled his weapon around and blasted the creature, though the bullets he fired were not nearly as effective as his bazooka-like attack. Aiming quickly, he blinded the first worm and then dove, flipping his cross around as he moved and firing again, catching the monster in the unprotected throat. With a burst of ichor-like liquid, the thing fell limp against the ground, sending stone and dust hailing down into the canyon.

All Wolfwood could think of was Vash as he had last seen him, falling downwards, face framed by billowing red and gold, aquamarine eyes reflecting the moonlight overhead like beacons of faith in the night. Somewhere down below while he fought for his life, Vash was laying amidst rubble and blood - dead? No. *No.* Wolfwood absolutely would not believe that something like this could steal the breath from Vash the Stampede's lips - with a feral growl, he leapt at the second worm and dealt with it quickly, firing two shells and rendering it into nothing but a pile of twitching, slime-covered entrails. The last worm didn't even look up, and the priest closed his eyes a moment, unwilling to regard the grisly sight of worm eating worm as his stomach heaved and twisted with belated fear and nervous tension.

"Vash..."

Dashing to the edge of the chasm, Wolfwood peered downwards, gritting his teeth in frustration. There was nothing he could do but climb down there, and that would be dangerous enough. What was more, their campsite was gone - and thus would all their food be missing, as well as their transportation. Even if he found Vash, how would they get out of this alive, stranded in a field of sandworms with no food or water between them?

Unbidden, a thought came to mind. **At least you'd die at his side.**

"Shut up," the priest whispered to that irritating little voice in his mind, singlemindedly slinging his cross over one shoulder and wincing as his left arm protested with a vehement stab of pain. There was no course of action available but this, and with a heavy, tension-filled heart the black haired man descended to the floor of the canyon.

It was easy in the beginning, where the walls didn't slope so sharply and there was almost a trail created by sandfall over the years. The ledges were slick with blood and damp sand that bit beneath Wolfwood's nails and refused to relinquish their place, making his fingertips ache after only a few moments. Halfway down the cross punisher became an unruly weight between his shoulderblades, and as the way down became rougher, Wolfwood considered dropping the deadweight.

But no. Vash was somewhere down there, and dropping heavy objects would not be a good way to insure his friend's safety. At last the stones that slipped and fell beneath his feet began actually hitting the ground, a sound that made Wolfwood breath with a little more ease. Up above the sky was gradually lightening, becoming a darkened shade of charcoal that proceeded the birth of the day and cast a bit of light into the dark hole. Just when Wolfwood thought he was truly going to fall, the aching in his shoulders and wrists to heavy to deny, his foot met something hard, solid, and undeniably stone.

If he hadn't been searching for the remains of the man he.... the man he l....

The remains of his target, Wolfwood would have laughed outloud in relief.

But now - where was Vash?

~~~~
Take these broken wings
I'm going to take these broken wings
And learn to fly
And learn to fly away
And learn to fly away

I'm gunning down romance
~~~~


Trigun Fanfiction