Chapter seventeen

~~~~
If I could walk a straight mile
To write it down in shorthand, I could show you
If you want me to
And if I had an hourglass
I'd save the grains of time I spent with you
That's what I'd do
But I remember, you always said it could be great
And I knew it could be

[Lucky Star - Goo Goo Dolls]
~~~~

The travel was growing more and more tiresome with each passing day. Wolfwood, as he and Vash moved across the desert towards Kansas and the other cities whose citizens had disappeared, had underestimated the sheer determination in which the blonde man moved. It was not obvious in his expressions or joking laughter, but under that lay a sense of utter purpose that could not be ignored, no matter how hard Wolfwood tried. And try he did!

Every day had become a span of one thousand years in the priest's eyes, ears, and mind. It was an endless expanse of sand and dry, dry words - but when night fell, and the girls moved a ways away from the 'perverted priest' to sleep for the evening, there was rain at last. Rain - hell - there was a monsoon. There was anything but drought, when Vash turned those liquid eyes to his priest and stared at him through the darkness, he would drown in them, and he always did, and stay there the night, wrapped in golden arms.

Things had changed after Legato's attack. First of all, Vash was almost protective of Wolfwood now - the few moments when danger had drawn near, the blonde had somehow managed to put himself before his priest in the line of fire. His very mind, Wolfwood could tell, with his semi-enhanced senses, had wrapped around the priest's and was clinging to it for all it was worth. That enhanced mind - which was receding with every passing moment. Already the mental 'noise' he had been subjected too was dampening and becoming less noticeable with each passing day, though Wolfwood wasn't sure if Vash was crushing the noise or if the effects of the plant's energy were simply wearing off. Probably a bit of both, seeing as how the nearly-immortal Stampede was fawning over him!

Wolfwood was of mixed emotions when it came to Vash's protective embrace. One - he allowed the blonde to dominate him, but only at times - Wolfwood had always been an aggressive person, and even with Vash, old habits died hard. He needed Vash too much to wait for the blonde to instigate intimate moments - because now Vash was scared that any touch of his would send Wolfwood howling in pain, as it had before. Wolfwood himself, though the agony he had suffered through was still burned brightly in his mind, could not *stand* having Vash so close to him and yet not be his lover.
Lover.

He wasn't.

It was maddening.

Glancing touches here and there, and a *tension* that never disappeared were all the priest shared with Vash - well, tension and secrets. Each night they locked themselves together, skin on skin, and slept in a close embrace, though Vash, Wolfwood knew, laid awake for most of the night, keeping invisible demons away.

That was how the priest knew Legato and Midvalley still trailed them, waiting for an opportunity to break them apart. Every so often there would be a brush against his mind, like ice being dropped down his shirt, and Wolfwood could do nothing but stand and shiver until Vash noticed and shoved the mental connection aside. That *frustrated* the priest, who had never been dependent on anyone before - at least not like this. Wolfwood had been terrified the first time Vash and Legato locked mental wills, afraid that Legato would open his mind in defeat and Vash would realize who exactly Wolfwood was, but each time they fought, Vash was left exhausted and shivering, but not hate filled.

As for Midvalley, Wolfwood had to sleep with the windows closed no matter how muggy the air, lest the sound of a far-off saxophone rob him of all his rest each night.

So, when they stopped at a small town with walls too high to be seen over, Wolfwood really hadn't a concern in the world, save how to get Vash in his bed, and how to stay alive. Really, hadn't he been in worse spots before?

Right.

~~~~
Well there's a way you look at things
That no one needs to know but you
And you'd shout it with me
Like every time the leaves would fall
You promised me that they'd be back again
And I believed in you
You always said it could be great
But I hadn't time to waste
Now it seems that I've gone too far
~~~~

Women, Wolfwood believed, were an absolute marvel. There was something about the way they moved and thought and smiled that connected with people - children in this case - that men rarely could attain. A sense of - you and I are gentle and kind, and we can be happy together - even Vash couldn't pull it off as well as the 'girls', as they were affectionately dubbed by the two gunman. Shifting in the doorframe he shook his head and watched the shorter insurance girl as she moved around the kitchen - or rather, he watched Vash watch her, infinitely amazed by the tiny naunces of pain, regret, remorse - longing? - that crossed Vash's face as he moved.

The priest made a grab for the soft music he could hear, the mood Vash was in - but it skittered away as it always did, on spindly legs that were faster than the mind could move. Vash was the one person he couldn't read, no matter how much energy had passed between them, how many intimate moments they had shared...

Meryl, Wolfwood decided, reminded Vash of someone important.

"Hey? Whatcha cooking?" Movement at his side, and Vash was gone, his pensive, almost thoughtful expression immediately replaced by eagerness that matched the children in it's hopeful intensity and disappointment when he was turned down and pushed away from the prospective meal. A face so childish and yet so tormented....

Wolfwood edged away and began creeping down the hall, sidestepping a young blonde boy as he barrelled by. With a tired sigh, he made his way to the front of the building and flopped down, probing for a cigarette and groaning when none was withdrawn.

He wished silently for a bottle of sake - then decided no, he would save the liquor they had for later, when the children wouldn't have to watch him get as drunk as possible. Nicholas D. Wolfwood was not the best of preachers, but he *did* care for the children - more than himself, more than Vash. This was, after all, the world they would inherit. And what a place it was! Sometimes it was so hard to look them in the eyes, knowing they would only grow up to pain, suffering, searing heat and an eventual sandy death... Sometimes he wanted to cry for them, his chest would tighten, but the tears wouldn't fall. Sometimes, though they were few and far between, he wanted to hit the young things and scream at them not to dream, not to hope, not to spread their wings, because once those feathers had tasted the wind and were clipped, it would be so hard to die without leaving the ground...

"Mister Priest," a soft voice from behind him - Wolfwood turned and nodded as Milly wrung her hands nervously in the doorway. "Are you alright? You weren't with Mr. Vash, so I thought..."

"I'm fine, honey, just sitting out here wishin' for a cigarette," the priest smirked and scooted to one side, patting the stone porch beside him invitingly. Milly beamed at him and flopped down at his side, her sleeves rolled up to her shoulders and her hair falling in her eyes - like a giant overgrown doll. She was different from Vash in that way - she really *was* innocent, and Vash was not. She was perceptive - much more than Wolfwood had first thought.... He was rapidly learning that while Milly was no scholar, she had a grip on people, on what they felt and hoped. Vash, of course, was the only exception - neither she nor Meryl understood him. Wolfwood could sense, now - with his extended senses - that all the taller of the two girls wanted to know - cared to know - was that Vash loved people, and that he was kind.

He could feel a sort of satisfaction with that radiating from her - she accepted him with his secrets, as she accepted Wolfwood with his twisted morals, and accepted her short-tempered superior as simply people, not anything more, not anything less.

Wolfwood slid an arm around her shoulder, and she leaned into him, soft and warm. So different from Vash in that way, too! She was all curves and gentle heat, he was cool and detached an inhuman -

**Stop comparing them.** The priest told himself. He only loved one person. 'Person.'

**Thinking like that is what's hurt Vash for so long. You don't have to be human to be....'human'....do you?** What was there to judge by? How could a person decide who and what shouldn't be a human being - which was so much more than a species, was a mindset, was a way of life? He checked for cigarettes again - caught himself - and smiled as wryly as he could at Milly, who smiled back.

She was human. He was human. Why couldn't he have loved...?

"You don't seem like you're alright," the girl persisted, a mock frown - almost petulant - settling across her features. "Did you and Mister Stampede have another fight?"

"No, not really," Wolfwood rolled his eyes. "Best friends argue sometimes - but it's not really a fight."

"I know. Sempai and I argue lots of times, but usually over silly things, and we always apologize," Milly reasoned out loud. Wolfwood could sense the concern her words masked, and he sighed softly.

"Yeah. You girls are a great team."

"You and Mister Vash are a great team."

They sat for a few more moments, which Wolfwood spent staring at Milly's eyes as she cast them skyward - the stars above were so radiant, pricks of silver in the sky, that they shone in her eyes and in her smile as she moved... He spoke on a whim. "Milly," she blinked at the use of her name, "have you ever felt trapped? Really and truly, like a noose was tightening around your neck and there's no way to get out?"

She stared at him, then turned inwards, thinking hard for a few moments. He could see the concentration flit through her eyes just as the stars had only moments before, and sighed. "No," the brunette answered at last, thoughtfully. "It seems to me that there's always going to be a way out. There has to be an answer, because no problem is impossible to solve."

"Have you ever been afraid?"

"Sure, lots of times."

"Of what?"

She leaned closer to him, and he inhaled the scent of her hair, sweet, soft. "Of...of losing my family, or my job, or sempai." Such naive concerns, Wolfwood stared at her, as she clasped his fingers in a gesture of open trust. "I was afraid when the Seeds ship fell, and when the moon caught on fire in the sky.... I'm a little afraid for Vash."

The priest caught those words and clung to them. "Afraid of Vash?"

"Not of him, really," Milly clarified shyly, "for him. He's so accident prone, how can anyone think he's dangerous?"

"Trouble follows him, I guess." Trouble and friends.

"But he's a nice man, he really is. They didn't believe us when we told the Company that...so sempai and I were the only ones that knew it... she was so excited to come find him again, you know. Sempai likes Mister Vash a lot."
"She's not..."

"I know! You like him, too. It's really hard *not* to like him, I think, with him living the way he does," Milly beamed from ear to ear and batted Wolfwood's hands away as he reached for his cigarettes. How come when the words fell from her lips, they sounded so much simpler and cleaner? "It's sweet the way he cares about you... I think maybe even sempai noticed, but she wouldn't admit it for the world."

"...cares about me... I wish he didn't. I can't be with him forever."

Milly blinked. "Forever? My dad always said.... 'who cares about forever'? It'll never happen... you see?" Wolfwood stared at her for a moment, and the cool night was only filled with shadows and the soft sound of laughter in the kitchen and dining area. "It doesn't matter if you aren't with him forever, you can always write him when you have to leave, or visit every so often. That's what I do-"

Forever. Milly meant a separation of paths. Wolfwood meant death.

"-with my family. I miss them a lot, but I write them letters and it seems to make everything better, you know? Like I can hear them all talking about home inside my head. You and Vash could do that, couldn't you?"

"I...."

"And besides," she turned her smiling eyes to him, "you're a preacher, there's always heaven."

Heaven. An Eden..... "Heaven...."

"Are you two ever going to come in and eat?" Wolfwood jumped, and Milly looked up, beaming at her superior.

"Yeah, sure, Meryl! C'mon, Mister priest, let's see what they've been up to!"

Wolfwood joined them moments later, a thoughtful look on his face. If he had been more aware, he would have realized that a pair of unfriendly eyes was watching him - eyes than knew far more than they should.

~~~~
As bright as you are don't get burned by your lucky star
Bright as you are don't get burned by your lucky star
Written down in hard bound books
The way things used to be, they ain't for me
I'd swear they're all for you
We said sugar, gramps said shoot
Her momma said shit, I don't know what she'll do
As if it's up to you
~~~~

"I have alcohol!" Wolfwood proclaimed with a grin, slamming his bag down on top of the table - the bottles clanged together obscenely as he was greeted with Vash's anticipation filled smile. "Been saving it for days!"

"What a feat," the blonde beamed, reaching for a bottle with nimble fingers - now that they weren't in front of the children, there were no objections to a bit of liquid relief. He was still wearing the mask of utter amusement he had donned at the dinner table - Wolfwood, however, wasn't fooled by the fake smile. He had seen the almost sad, reminiscent look Vash had given the children as Meryl tucked them into bed with gentle fingers - and he didn't need to hear the humming aura hovering in that room to realize that Vash was recalling another child, another woman, and another time. "You, stockholding beer?" The question was sarcastic, teasing, and affectionate, if not genuine.

"Hey, I can control my drinking as well as the next man!" Wolfwood flopped down in his seat , popped the cap off his first bottle and raised it solemnly - moments later Vash joined him at the other side of the table and followed his motions. On a whim, Wolfwood looked up and met the other man's eyes. "To...what should we toast to?"

The priest had half expected some cocky remark about love and peace or donuts or something bland like that, but to his surprise, Vash's aquamarine eyes looked thoughtful as he considered the question - thoughtful and a little sad. "Let's toast to the children," he murmured at last, seeming very pleased with his answer.

Children. Wolfwood had grown up an orphan, trained to murder in the name of an unforgiving God. Vash had been gifted be powers inhuman and pristine, sullied by the death of millions... and these little girls and boys had already been rendered homeless and family-less by a twist of fate. Toasting to them would be toasting to the damned...and yet...

Wolfwood shrugged, and the necks of their bottles clinked softly in the twilight of the dimly lit room. **To the children...may they have a future. Happiness - hope - More than a simply future is too much to ask for.** They both drank, and then moments later, Vash was at his side, looking worried. "Wolfwood..."

"Yeah?" the priest stretched his arms and wrung out the crick in his neck that had been forming all day long. It felt good to settle down with good company, to stretch out his legs and arms and knotted shoulders - but the look in Vash's eyes foretold a long, deep conversation.

Wolfwood groaned.

He didn't want that - anything but that. After Vash's energy had been imparted to him, Wolfwood was too scared to open up his mind - or his heart for that matter - to the innocent demon before him. What if he were discovered, now when he felt like life was peaking all at once?

Vash was worried, and for a moment Wolfwood wondered if he should take the fear in his eyes seriously. "There's something...."

"You look sad," The priest cut him off shortly, effectively reclaiming control of their conversation - one hand snaking out and catching Vash by the wrist. "Stop talking like that if it's what fills your eyes with all those tears," he glared at Vash sharply.

"But I feel like-"

"Just for tonight?" The blonde was reluctant to leave his fears for an offered safe haven, in his own masochistic way - Wolfwood leaned up and pulled Vash downwards, kissing him softly on the cheek. He *wouldn't* let Vash spend this night remembering, hurting... They could never have forever, but they did have now... and if 'now' couldn't be happy, couldn't be close and intimate, when would it ever be? "Please. Don't cry, not tonight."

"They'll hurt you if I don't-"

"I'm not asking you," Wolfwood said astutely, "to drop your guard. I'm asking you to try and forget, just for one night. Once."

Vash stiffened in his arms for a final moment, then seemed to relax utterly, melting against Wolfwood's body like a child against his father's breast, sinking into the comfort of strong arms and smoky cloth. The blonde hair tickled Wolfwood's chin as Vash burrowed his head against the hollow below the priest's ear, sighing softly. "Just for tonight."

They leaned back in the wooden chair together, Wolfwood cradling the blonde and reaching for his bottle again - he took a long swig, and then Vash reclaimed it, downing the rest. When the pleasant buzz of alcohol finally set in, token kisses were exchanged, gentle against skin and hair and coarse fabric.

'And besides...you're a preacher, there's always heaven.'

God.

What was God?

What was heaven, other than this gentle cool breeze of kisses? What was completion if it wasn't inhaling the scent of another, one who he loved with all of his soul for no reason at all? How could Eden be more tangible than this...?

As a preacher, he had spent his life telling the masses of the salvation that awaited them if they only had faith, while in his heart that flicker of hope that he had nourished with all of his soul slowly burned away.

Salvation, he was learning, existed in one thing alone...

Wolfwood kissed Vash's beauty mark and then the tip of his nose in an open display affection he never dared to show when sober - and Vash's wistful eyes took on a warmer look, filling with something between surprise and utter delight. Another pair of empty bottles met the floor, and Vash began playing with his hair, braiding the floppy strands tightly and giggling drunkenly as the black threads unwound themselves in a whirling fray.

It was innocent, his genuine smile and beautiful. Wolfwood kissed him then, softly exploring his mouth as Vash acquiesced almost instantly, his hands coming up to rest on the taller man's shoulders as they touched. It grew deeper, tongue on tongue, their breath hissing and mingling together as they broke away and rejoined -

Then Wolfwood pulled away. Vash stared at him blankly for a moment, before snuggling up against his chest like a well-sated red-clad kitten. "Not tonight," the priest shook his head, grinned lopsidedly down the bridge of his nose at Vash, alcohol heavy on his breath. "That's too close... Too much."

"I love you," Vash told him promptly, kissing the corner of his mouth. He tasted like cheap liquor.

I love you. Three words, so easy, so close - "I..." The blonde looked up, eyes filling with a hope that didn't subside until Wolfwood shied away from the startling admission. "I ... I can't imagine life without you."

So close, and yet...

He could hear Vash's heart beating in a soft, delicate tempo that so belied the proud figure he cut as a gunslinging outlaw - Wolfwood sighed and lifted a finger to the blonde's lips, tracing along the swell and curve with an adoring touch. "It's alright," Vash whispered, his breath licking along Wolfwood's hand, making the other shiver. The blonde promptly abandoned the mere touch and took one of the priest's fingertips into his mouth, smiling around the obtrusion.

His eyes....

Wolfwood caught his breath as Vash's mouth sought out the crevices of his palm and dropped a delicate kiss there, a shy smile on his face. "It's alright," he promised. "I understand."

No, Wolfwood thought as he leaned forward and kissed Vash again. You never will.

~~~~
But I remember, you always said it could be great
But I hadn't time to waste
Now it seems that you've gone too far
As bright as you are don't get burned by your lucky star
Bright as you are don't get burned by your lucky star
~~~~

Funny how, when the world is on the brink of shattering, little things were easy to fixate on, the pulsating of a heart or the blowing of the wind, the crunching sound of gravel underfoot as a man walked to his own execution. Wolfwood, at the moment, was suffering greatly in that manner as one little bead of sweat slid it's way down the small of his back.

It trickled further, his finger tightened, the tension so heavy it was nearly alive. **Vash, what are you doing? Are you trying to get killed?**

He was trying to get the gun. That idiot was *actually* trying to steal a weapon from a *Gung-ho Gun.*

"No," the priest hissed, hauling his gun up and aiming. That little child was not a child, it was a monster - Vash was the innocent. Vash was the one poised on the edge of death, though he believed he was safe. Nicholas D. Wolfwood knew what sort of man made a Gung-ho Gun, knew the desperation and the life of hatred, of fear, of gut-instinct that shaped one of Legato's henchmen - he knew the fate ten times worse than death that awaited one of the Guns when they failed a mission. And he knew that, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the only weapon that would fall would be Vash's, and it would be crushed beneath his bleeding corpse....

At that moment, the logic was cool and hard, and it was all that Wolfwood could see. There was no vision of a small blonde child rolling in his sleep, crying at a nightmare that was his alone to bear, there was no thought of small hands carrying laundry or minute feet skipping around the side of their shabby car - there was only the barrel of a gun, and Vash's outstretched fingers - asking, in that suicidal, masochistic, sadistic way he had of asking for scars, defeat, or even death.

Damned innocent. Too innocent. To pure, an Eden without weapons or fighting or hatred, to pure to ever be real...to ever survive. Nothing innocent would ever last.

Child or not, the monster was a Gung-ho Gun. Like Wolfwood. Small though his fingers were, they were no less deadly when clinched around the trigger of a weapon that was *not* a playtoy. Regardless of age, Zazie the Beast was a lost soul, had been since he had been sighted by the golden-eyed killed her now answered too..... Just like Wolfwood - Chapel - the only way to truly release him, to defeat him, to overcome him was to kill him, render him lifeless as the sand drank of his blood.

So Wolfwood did.

And the pull of the trigger itself was as easy as it had been the first time, so many years ago.

~~~~
Your lucky star will burn out
Your lucky star can turn you 'round
Your lucky star will burn out
Your lucky star can turn you 'round
Turn you 'round, turn you 'round, turn you 'round
They're gonna turn you around
~~~~