Aaaah? This one was a boring chapter for me to write... mainly because I had to sit in front of the TV watching my DVDs and writing down all the lines, because I want this fic to be as close to canon as possible. So appreciate that! ^^;; Now that we've started in to the time period the episodes have already delineated, the fanfic will probably move a little slower. I'm not as happy about this chapter as I have been about some other ones, but the sooner it's done, the sooner I can get to to the ending...... So read, and do try to enjoy!

~Tomo

~~~~
Well someone told me yesterday
That when you throw your love away
You act as if you don't care
You look as if you're going somewhere

But I just can't convince myself
I couldn't live with no one else
And I can only play that part
And sit and nurse my broken heart
~~~~

"This is a typhoon..." Vash murmured, looking thoughtfully out into the winds, a faint smile o his lips. "It's been a while since I've seen her... one of these."

Wolfwood shifted on the bed and looked up from where he was polishing his guns, taking each methodically out of his cross, reloading, and oiling them. "You've seen one typhoon, you've seen 'em all. And you're a lot better for conversation than the one knocking on our doorstep," he grunted, tapping the bottle of oil and glaring at it when none was forthcoming.

"Thanks, I think," Vash grinned, his smile stretching from ear to ear - Wolfwood cringed at the utter falsity behind it.

He deliberated for a moment, loathe to apologize but seeing no other way to clear that weighted smile from Vash's lips. With a heavy sigh the priest paused in his cleaning and looked up, eyes shaded by dark bangs. "I didn't mean-"

"It's alright. Her name is Jacqueline," Vash told him, matter-of-factly, making Wolfwood raise a brow in surprise.

"Another of your friends?"

"A very old friend."

"Ah." How old was very old to Vash? Wolfwood wondered silently as the shutters clattered and rattled and the wind whooshed by the building with a soft whistle. Standing in the window's frame, backlit and almost-sad, Vash seemed much wiser than Wolfwood could ever hope to be, and much, much older... On a normal day he appeared to be about twenty five, twenty eight, maybe. Certainly not thirty, but how old was he in the years of his race? Or did they even have years?

Wolfwood knew Knives had called them something, something poetic and (he had thought) quite strange. What had it been....?

"I'm going to go see if the girls have anymore oil," Wolfwood murmured, standing up so quickly that Vash jumped in surprise.

"O...Okay."

With a calm demeanor, Wolfwood stepped out of the room and paused in the hallway, clicking the door behind him. As the winds rushed by outside he walked down the hallway of the hotel, his boots clicking heavily against the hardwood floor, a blank expression on his face.

There was a lot to sort out in his mind, so the priest lit up a cigarette and began a systematic search of the hotel, looking for a suitable hiding place. Number one, Vash's games that morning, with his burst of intimacy and then almost shockingly childish play that left Wolfwood feel warm all over. Number two, why he had been so insistent about this hotel and why he had been figiting next to the window all morning...? It was as if he was...waiting.... for what? Something was happening, the priest could feel it in his bones - and thus he stationed himself in a corner of the hotel's lobby in the edge of the lamplight, waiting quietly for Vash to make a move - and Wolfwood was sure that he would.

The room was musty, and any clerks that had been present had vanished when the storm set in - probably retiring to the game room with most of the other residents. Two cigarettes were lit and smoked with appropriately languid breaths and appreciative sighs - the way Wolfwood saw it, there was no way he would live long enough to die of lung cancer, so why not enjoy a little blessing while he had it? Vash hadn't said anything yet - **And won't, if I have anything to say about it.** Commenting on personal habits was a little too intimate for friends - Wolfwood snorted in self-contempt, then froze as footsteps echoed down the hallway next to him. As if anything could be more intimate than what they had shared only hours before!

What had that been, anyway? Vash had appeared so... so.... His eyes had been scared, and Wolfwood was sure the blonde hadn't really wanted sex. So why had he offered himself up like a piece of meat, knowing that Wolfwood would certainly not bother to reign in his feelings in a situation like that?

Gold hair, floppy white sleeves, and Vash was there in the lobby with him. Wolfwood, careful not to shift or breath too loudly watched as the blonde fumbled for his hotel key and unlocked the doors, the wind picking up every moment that he moved. Nervously he checked something in one hand and then gave the door a tremendous shove -

A howling wind immediately filled the lobby of the hotel, and Vash vanished a heartbeat later. No longer fearing discovery, Wolfwood shot back towards his room and slung the cross punisher over one shoulder - by the time he had thrown open the door to the outside, the wind was gushing harder, and Vash was almost out of sight in the roaring waves of sand.

It was difficult work, following him through the storm, but Wolfwood - eyes protected by his sunglasses and the heavy cross weighting him to the ground - steadfastly labored onwards. Sand was burning against his cheeks, and in ignoring the outside world, he very nearly blew his cover completely when Vash finally stopped.

It was too windy to hear what Vash said as he spoke to himself, but Wolfwood was suddenly *very* aware of the blonde's intent as he leaned into the wind, and tensed his legs, and - "SHIT!"

He had jumped.
He had fucking jumped! "VASH!" Wolfwood was at the edge of the cliff in a heartbeat, staring down at Vash's receding form, cackling in his loudest, most silly-sounding voice. Okay, the priest gulped, it was strange. But Vash was not a suicide person, and it would take something important to make Vash abandon the girls in a storm like this...

Legato had said to follow him, must mainly Wolfwood was just curious.

So there was only one thing to do, really.

He jumped, too.

~~~~
So lonely
So lonely
So lonely
So lonely

Now no one's knocked upon my door
For a thousand years or more
All made up and nowhere to go
Welcome to this one man show
~~~~


When Legato had first approached Nicholas D. Wolfwood with what seemed to be a clean-cut job for a character a little more shady than usual, he had not really been afraid. A little surprised that he would have been chosen for a mission that was obviously important to someone somewhere, but confident enough not to care about the details. When his target dashed around sand steamers singly poorly-thought-out tunes with a surprisingly nice voice, Wolfwood got disturbed, but not particularly frightened.... When storms arose, sweeping across the landscape with winds so sharp they burned, he could stick out a fight without a complaint.... But when Vash the Stampede began jumping off cliffs in such storms as were previously mentioned, Wolfwood began to get a little worried.

And yet somehow, that situation had gone from bad to worse. With gritted teeth and a smarting head, Wolfwood clung to the side of the massive metal chunk that seemed to be suspended in the storm and shouted over the winds. "I thought you were committing suicide!"

"Suicide? I despise that word the most..." The fact that Wolfwood was clinging to the side of his seemingly secretive escape seemed to suddenly dawn on Vash, and he looked over one shoulder, staring in surprise. "What are you doing here?!"

"First you cry your eyes out, then you run around jumping off cliffs. What're you after?!"

Vash looked away, expression slightly wistful, and his response could barely be heard over the howling wind. "I'm visiting the folks."

With a scowl, Wolfwood flipped himself over, cross and all, until he was standing somewhat unsteadily next to Vash, his sunglasses perched on the bridge of his peaked nose. "Eh? Come again?"

"I'M VISITING THE FOLKS!"

"Are you saying they built a house in the sky? I'm sick of your lies!" Of course, with Vash, such a thing was entirely possible, but Wolfwood's pride would not let him freely admit a thing like that just yet.

Wolfwood's jaw dropped as behind them, through the foggy winds, burst something out of his wildest dreams, a mountain of twisted metal jutting ferociously into the sky. Crags and valleys, violent upturnings, all licked by the racing wind - it was incredible. It was huge. It was ancient, a piece of the past, older and nearly sacred in the eyes of the priest... Wolfwood's jaw dropped open and his heart rate redoubled on itself as he stared. "....what is this?"

"What it looks like," Vash told him, a ghost of a smile spreading across his face, quickly washed away by what Wolfwood could only assume was a wave of bad memories as the blonde closed his eyes. "It's a ship that failed to crash 130 years ago."

"This is unbelievable..." Unbelievable, understatement of the year. Wolfwood gripped the metal bar so hard his knuckles were a pale white as he gazed at the astonishing sight. The very fact that something like this could exist had always been nothing more than fantasy to him - but it was there, and it was real. **Project Seeds.... Is this where Vash...**

How many secrets could one man hold? "Who knew the lost technology was still preserved like this?" That was enough to pass, though Wolfwood could not bring himself to speak for another moment, terribly glad his eyes were hidden behind the sunglasses he always wore. This ship, with the sun glinting off the bird-like statues at it's sides.... It was beyond incredible. Impossible, contradicting everything he had ever known.... With a dry mouth, Wolfwood whispered. "You said you were visiting the folks. Are you saying people live there?"

Vash's smile turned on again like a light, flipping into brilliance with the flick of a switch. Leaning back against the railing he looked up and smiled almost thoughtfully - "I think you'll be their first houseguest in twenty years....


~~~~

The ship had a mechanism that somehow was contrived to lower it's passengers down into the depths of the ship, the only sign of motion being the passing slabs of metal that grew more and more monotonous as time wore on. Wolfwood alternated between staring down in fascination, trying to get his mind around the fact that such a place could exist (who ever heard of a moving floor, in a massive ship twenty times bigger than any plant he had ever seen?) and listening to the conversation behind him.

"You're Brad, aren't you? You sure have grown!"

Damn, Vash sounded adorable. And sad. But adorable, none the less.

"By the way, who is he?"

"I'm not quite sure of that myself."

Part of Wolfwood wanted to laugh out loud at that, and part of him wanted to cry - he felt a grin spread across his face as he watched Vash's expression in the glassy surface of the wall, stealing Vash's theory that a smile was the best defense. **No, Vash, you have no idea.**

Brad's brows knitted together darkly, and Wolfwood sighed as the voice answered sharply. "I don't mind you wandering around here, but don't bring outsiders!"

The priest settled a hand on Brad's shoulder, trying to sound as warm as possible. "Oh, don't be like that..."

As the platform stopped, Brad shrugged his hand away and flashed him a dark glare before continuing into the hallway. With no small amount of surprise, Wolfwood watched people that seemed more abundant that he could ever have guessed as they ducked back into the side corridors, peering fearfully through heavy metal sliding doors. A mother and a group of young children cringed as Wolfwood's hidden eyes flashed across their doorway, and the elder woman immediately began shooing her flock away from the open hall. "Don't stare...inside, now..."

"That's how it is," Brad spat, his voice contemptuous.

"All right, I'll behave."

~~~~
Just take a seat they're always free
No surprise no mystery
In this theater that I call my soul
I always play the starring role

So lonely
So lonely
So lonely
So lonely
~~~~

"VAAAAAASH! VAAAAASSSSSSH!"

Pigtails and a blue dress appeared, charged, and clung so quickly that Wolfwood nearly dropped his cross in surprise as a soft face and pale skin wrapped itself around Vash's body, squealing in delight.

"This is all rather sudden, young lady! I may be easy, but even I need a little warning!" Wolfwood couldn't help but snicker at that comment - Vash *was* easy. But...he shifted, noting the anger building in Brad's eyes, and the way Vash's face seemed to have a rather large sweat drop dribbling down it. For a moment the blonde hugged back, then settle the girl firmly on the floor, his hands on her arms. There was a moment of silence, and then his eyes widened, and his expression grew doubtfully joyous. "...Jessica?"

"That's right!" The girl's smile was like sunshine bursting through on a cloudy day, and Vash's immediately matched hers, for once honest and true. "You remembered! Wow, wow," she bounced, hands clasped before her, "this is the coolest!"

Wolfwood raised an eyebrow, the questions filling his mind too numerous to be asked all at once. He settled for a safer option that asking questions, leaning heavily on his cross and flashing Vash a sly grin. "I didn't know you had such a cute girlfriend! You lucky devil you!"
Vash's expression immediately went from amused to nervous, and he favored Wolfwood with a weak grin. "Shh, shh!"

"What's this," Wolfwood said, relishing the moment of absolute normality, "you showing off to your girl?"

Brad was getting close to some sort of explosion (judging by the brilliant red of his face), and Vash edged away from him, his spiky hair standing higher on end if such a thing was even possible. Wolfwood had to suppress his laughter as the blonde settled for patting Jessica gently and excusing himself in the politist way possible. "I'm sorry, I have to talk to the Doctor."

"Aw," Jessica responded, her voice sulky and her hands balled into soft fists of annoyance. "No fair!"

"Jessica..."

"Come see me after, okay? Immediately after! If you don't, I'll hate you!"

Vash waved his fingers tiredly in agreement as the small doctor at his side palmed open a door and entered. "All right, all right!" He said wistfully, then turned the full force of his haunted eyes at Wolfwood once again. "I'll just be a second."

The priest stared hard after Vash as he exited the hallway, questing racing through his head - there were so many things he didn't know, couldn't know!

**'You'll be their first house guest in twenty years...'** Twenty years? When was the last time Vash had been here? Wolfwood knew his exact whereabouts for the past three or four years, but before that.... When he had been given his assignment Legato had proudly displayed maps of endless sand criss-crossed with red markings, some old and dry, some new and bright blood red - the trails Vash the Stampede had been traveling for years.

That was when Wolfwood had realized that there was more to his mission than met the eye. How long had Vash been traveling? Long enough for him to not remember Jessica - with that and the fact that she obviously worshiped him like a childhood hero, Wolfwood construed that it had indeed been many years since Vash had been on this ship.

And they treated him like family! When Vash had walked in, he had not been shied away from, indeed only when people noticed Wolfwood did they pull their children away and hide. So Vash was a common enough site, despite his infrequent visits, that people did not regard him as an outsider....

That irony of that was not lost on Wolfwood. Vash the Stampede, the only planet-side resident these people trusted!

"I haven't introduced myself yet," the priest murmured in his kindest tone, lifting his fingers and slipping the dark sunglasses he wore off. "I'm..." The words, though, seemed to remind Jessica and Brad that he was not from their world - **Must be the accent,** Wolfwood mused - and in mere moments the girl was cowering as if she feared being hit, behind Brad's shoulder. Wolfwood hesitated, unsure of how to deal with those fear-filled eyes, but that surprise left an opening for Brad's defensive words.

"What did you expect? The inhabitants here aren't like you violent, warring outsiders." Violent, warring...yes, that was true. "You make this place stink like gunpowder. Stay put until he gets back. Got that?"

Wolfwood glared at Brad's retreating back, knowing that the accusations wouldn't hurt so much if they hadn't been so close to the truth - these people *should* be afraid of him. Vash should never have brought him here, of all people in the world - but he had followed, stubbornly, and now it was likely that this ship would become a battle arena. "At least offer me a drink, for crying out loud!" he muttered, lighting up a cigarette and taking a deep drag, forcing himself to relax.

Surely such a thing was impossible. Look at how difficult it had been for Vash, someone they trusted, to make his way onto the ship! There was no way any one of the Gung-ho Guns he had met could do that, with the exception of Midvalley and Legato... Wolfwood was sure enough that those two would not be facing Vash until much later.

**What am I thinking? Much later? Vash could get cut down in the next five minutes, so why do I believe he'll continue to survive every encounter?**

Faith.

That disturbed Wolfwood. As a priest, he spoke long and hard about the values and benefits of absolute faith in God, in Holy things, in almighty plans, but.... Believing was different than speaking, and while he had turned many people to the light of his God, Wolfwood had been receding further into shadows, into sin and ultimately oblivion... Faith was something only innocent people could maintain, and he was too far from innocent to ever go back.

Faith in Vash....

Now that damned gunman had him believing with more fervor then he had ever felt before, in one thing - the invincibility of Vash the Stampede. The honesty of his ideals and the terrified child that was hiding beneath yards of flamboyant red fabric - that was so real, so believable, so eternal! The pain in Vash's eyes that spoke of a desperate determination to live and let live, to protect lives at any cost, be it scars or limbs or broken hearts.... Wolfwood believed in that, so completely and utterly, that it was useless for him to deny it any longer, especially to himself.

Was that love, the love he had been avoiding for so long? Was that what Midvalley had felt and given up when Wolfwood had been sent on this mission, out of his reach? Was that what somehow prompted Knives to chase his brother to the ends of the planet, jealous, protective love?

Another cigarette, and another thought.

If he loved Vash, was he already doomed? Wouldn't his employers sense that telepathically and immediately know that their inside man had betrayed them, if only with his heart...? Wolfwood closed his eyes for a moment at that idea - he didn't *want* to die. He wanted to live and go down in a blaze of guns and bullets, not be snuffed out like a candle at the hands of Knives or Legato, or one of their hit man! To die ignominiously, one of the hundreds or thousands they had killed... **I can't stand that.** It would be better to raise his gun to his head and end it that way - and, the priest decided firmly, if it came to a choice of ways to go, that was what he would choose.

But how would he know when he had been discovered?

When the people in the hallways got brave enough to actually glare at him without flinching, Wolfwood was on his eighth cigarette, and the butts of seven others were decorating the floor around his heels. There was a young boy to his left, and Wolfwood was all too aware of his intentions - Even the little kids on this ship believed in his inherent sinfulness - when the boy finally flung a piece of trash, Wolfwood deflected it sternly with his cross.

"Get out of here!" the child cried before his parent could burst out and pull him away.

"I'm sorry!" she burst out, and when Wolfwood murmured a calm 'Don't sweat it,' she narrowed her eyes. "But I feel the same as the boy... I beg you, please, leave this place!"

A scared woman, who had to be younger than Wolfwood, and she seemed...happy. Maybe that's what made this ship feel so different from the planet below - there was no fear and no anger, nothing but peace at all times. It was the very opposite of Gunsmoke's rough and tumble atmosphere, where the weak died, and on occasion the strong joined them...

"Why?" Wolfwood asked them, something twisting within his chest. Leave? Where they so selfish that they believed sharing that peace with anyone would lead to their destruction? Self-imposed isolation was both a safety precaution and a fear... "So you all can live out your cozy little lives? Your plants aren't inexhaustible, they could break down someday. You can't cling to them forever!"

"What? You have no idea how hard we work to maintain these systems! I-It's better than living out there!" He wasn't sure why their pride bothered him so when one of the men raised a clenched fist in protest, and others joined him. Maybe because the very life they feared had stolen away so much of his soul that it seemed unfair that anyone remained untouched by hardship - **Wolfwood,** he told himself, **you're a priest. Just be happy that they've escaped the fate the rest of the planet has suffered.**

But he couldn't be. He couldn't be glad that they thought themselves worthy of peace and the rest of the race fit to burn and die on a sandy desert. The technology intact on their ship might be enough to improve life for everyone, but rather than give it up, they would cling to paradise in the sky - it made him sick.

He would have done the same thing, but it still made him sick.

"They say you care nothing about people's lives!"

"Hear, hear!"

With a trembling hand, Wolfwood slammed his cross shaped weapon into the floor, leaving a definite indentation in the metal. His act of suppressed anger, while it certainly ended the mob's jeering agreements, did nothing but prove they were correct, and as they pulled back in fear the priest was grimly proud of the fact that he *did* have the potential for violence, in an adverse, perverse way. If he was going to be shunned, ridiculed and mocked, he would damn-well give them something to really be afraid of...

"Like it or not, the time *will* come!" he called, staring around at the group - when he met their eyes, some would turn away and some would try to stare him down, but he won each tiny battle in turn. It was all he could do for the moment, after all. "The time will come for all of you to live on that desert planet!"

~~~~

"Of all the rotten, insignificant people.... Doesn't anyone take the word of a priest anymore?" Wolfwood was moving away from the door Vash had disappeared in, his irritation growing with every step, the Cross Punisher at his side clinking softly as he moved. With crowds of people collecting whenever he moved, Wolfwood was more than happy to simply keep moving and avoid a confrontation, while letting Vash catch up to him later.

That was when screams echoed through the hallway - Wolfwood was immediately running, picking the door that hid the muffled screams. Banging on it, he began to shout - "What's wrong!? Hey in there!" No response! He ran his hands up and down the smooth metal seams and gritted his teeth...damn it! "Don't make doors that can't be opened...!"

The Cross Punisher doubled as a battering ram as Wolfwood struck the door once, twice, three times, and then pried the crack open further with his fingers. As soon as light fell across the floor, the priest closed his eyes for a moment.

Four corpses, fresh and still bleeding... As he knelt, several footsteps announced the arrival of others, and Wolfwood turned, realizing that his position was more than suspicious, it was-

"You...you...What are you....doing...?"

"It wasn't me," Wolfwood breathed sharply, "They were like this when I got here." The people began backing up, and he took a step forward. "Hey, listen to me!"

Two of the men looked up and Wolfwood instinctively followed their gaze, his eyes meeting Brad's as the man burst in on the scene, his eyes widening in horror. "What happened?!"

"Brad!"

"It's Terry and Nasha!"

That was all it took - the sadness in those voices lit a flame in Brad's eyes, and the peaceful civilian pulled out a gun unlike any one Wolfwood had ever seen before - his hands were trembling so hard the weapon rattled. "You! You!"

"It wasn't me."

"You can't prove that!" The little red beacon was shivering up and down Wolfwood's body, and the priest shifted - what was he going to do know? Who had attacked these people, how could he convince Brad to lower his weapon, and where the hell was Vash?

"Once again," Wolfwood's grip tightened on his cross, "it wasn't me."

~~~~
Lonely, I'm so lonely
I feel so alone
I feel low
I feel so
Feel so low
I feel low, low
I feel low, low, low
I feel low, low, low
I feel low, low, low
I feel low, low, low
I feel low, low, low
Low, I feel low
I feel low
I feel low
I feel so lonely
I feel so lonely
I feel so lonely, lonely, lonely, lone
Lonely, lone
I feel so alone, yeah

So lonely
~~~~