Chapter eighteen
~~~~
Why do you stare me down?
Am I wrong?
Should I turn and kiss the ground?
And I never felt that way
I ain't the one and you know I don't come from such a place
And I didn't get those things
Things that you can't grow
You say that it's all my fault
And I don't need to know
[So Far Away - Goo Goo Dolls]
~~~~
It was liquid and cool, like sand melted and fused and rolling in bubbly, creamy lava-rivers - and at the same time it was all gray and inviting, icing on a cake. It was everywhere and nowhere whatsoever, it was an existence that had none, no physical edge to a world where emotions were alive, were the very fabric of everything.
They were walking there, together, through the void that was both there and yet not. Wolfwood was staring out at the flickering landscape, reflecting that if his eyes were being truthful, he should have drowned long before - however, since he was living, he assumed that this world was a bit different from his own - before pushing the matter away. It didn't quite matter, did it?
There had been a question, hadn't there? What was he trying to answer? The priest placed a finger on his temple and pulled the curious query from the back of his subconscious. Finally, he settled on it - through it was like trying to pin a rainbow on the surface of oily, dirty water.
"It's like I'm blind, walking down a dark tunnel with no walls and no floor and I don't know where I'm going. And there's someone's hand, reaching to me - and I can feel that - but no matter how fast I run or how desperately I reach, there's nothing there."
The woman smiled gently, running her fingers through her dark hair. She was wearing clothes far too casual for Wolfwood to really notice - and that was the very reason he did, taking in the soft white shirt and baggy jeans with near-suspicion. They were pristine, despite the inky blue around her - and she looked out of place against that backdrop - too clean to be submerged in this filthy sin. "Are you that lonely?"
He looked away. "Yeah."
"And you don't know what you're looking for..."
"I know that somewhere, there's a monument. I was told of that, and told that Vash had to see it, no matter what the cost. So far it's cost me everything - my heart, my soul, whatever future I might have had - not to mention, I'm sure, my life. All of that sacrificed, just so that Vash can be tossed back into the cesspit of Knives' obsession. I'm a fool."
These dreams, they'd been so common, he reflected. And this woman, a counselor in the night, easing him through his worst nightmares... "I've killed a child. What can I say about myself with a death like that on my hands?"
The woman looked away, sighing softly. Small bubbles danced at the corners of her lips and disappeared, floating away into nothing at all - the look she wore was the same that Vash sometimes displayed, when he was reflecting on a decision that had been made and could never be changed - however, when she looked back at him, all of the concern in her eyes had evaporated and was replaced by a gentle, sheepish grin.
Wolfwood felt a bitter, stabbing feeling invade his chest, and he narrowed his eyes. "Don't smile like that. You don't know what it's like to break away from the morals you've known your entire life! You don't know what I felt, pulling that trigger - damn Vash for needing someone to cover him, damn his stupid beliefs!"
She bit her lip. "No, don't even give me that look! You, who's haunted my dreams and echoed in my waking hours! What are you, a ghost, a demon? I have no need for those! Vash is demon enough with his fucking eyes and those damned scars..."
"I appreciate you taking care of him, you know," she smiled a smile that lit up the not-water around her and made Wolfwood shiver slightly and the purity behind it - enough to make him feel ten times dirtier than even Vash did. "Sometimes he just can't take care of himself."
"Well, I'm doing a shitty job," Wolfwood grimaced and reached for a cigarette, more out of habit than necessity. To his surprise, the woman didn't comment as inhaled without even lighting the nicotine-stick, and the drag was satisfactory - she just regarded him with a sort of omnipotent, opinion-less smile. It was almost frightening, her look of all-encompassing love... "It's just a matter of who dies first, now. There's nothing I can do to change anything."
"Are you afraid of death?" The woman tilted her head inquisitively, and Wolfwood suppressed the urge to scoot closer to the warmth in her gaze, away from their cold surroundings.
"Let's go back to the damn tunnel - if I'm blind and deaf and dumb, death is the light at the end of the tunnel. Only, the tunnel has no end, and the light is a change of some sort, whether it's good or bad or really anything at all, it's something. You see?" He took a long drag of his cigarette, and the nicotine tasted sweeter than the finest wine. "I'm blind, and Vash is following me. He's a damn usable fool. Pushover."
"He's like that because he wants to be like that," the girl looked down, hair falling in front of her slightly-guilty eyes. "I think that to him, being used is close to being loved - maybe because of Knives, or maybe because he's never really been *loved* for who he is since Knives left him. By now he doesn't know the difference anymore, between love and hate.
Wolfwood leaned back. Difference between love and hate? As separate as black and white, existence and nothing, Vash and Knives.
"I read a book once, " she said, looking up. "It was about a woman who broke away from her society and morals, defying everything, just so that she stay near with the man she loved and the father of her child. They were never acknowledged until he lay dying in her arms on a scaffold of sin - but in the end, they were open and honest, and buried beside each other."
"I don't read books," Wolfwood spit.
"You should." A sigh, and she tugged habitually on the necklace around her neck. "You've followed Vash now for months, haven't you? And I've guided you as best I can.... because I love him, and Knives, too." a pause. "Do you?"
"Love...?"
"Do you love Vash?"
The woman was leaning closer to him, her chocolate eyes boiling into his soul. "Nicholas, it's important that you answer. Please, and answer honestly. Do you love Vash the Stampede?"
"I... Who the hell are you, anyway?!" Wolfwood leaned back, his cigarette nearly falling from his lips. The water-air swirled and sucked around him, pulling him towards blackness that he desperately feared - the blackness was waking up from this peaceful, serene paradise of blue.
"You should know by now," she whispered, though her eyes asked the question again and again. Vash, with his soft, fake smiles and the honest agony that was as much a part of him as the plate across his breast... Wolfwood found his throat closing up, unwilling to admit his feelings, but unable to deny them after being taken into Vash's closest confidence.
"I.....do."
~~~~
Tell me something I don't know
And I'll find that I'm always looking 'round behind me
You said that it's all been said before
Now I find that there's something I don't know
And I hate your attitude I ain't scared at all 'Cause it don't matter what you do
And I'll turn around to see the truth
~~~~
They stopped in front of the monument, and Wolfwood stared over the rim of his sunglasses. He could help himself, after hearing and talking about it for so long, the sinister monument seemed more than just a threat - its red-smeared surface glared in the harsh light with an unwinking gaze that sent shivers down the priest's back. It was...one word, etched in blood, that echoed and multiplied the power of Knives and his fellows. It was...
Terrifying, really. Wolfwood hated it, and wished he had never bothered to fulfil his mission.
The bike he was so proud of, a dusty, filthy thing, had broken down just on the outskirts of town - for once with timing that Wolfwood was grateful for. Those last few blocks had been so tense, with Vash at his side, trembling with indecision. Wolfwood could tell that as much as the blonde trembled in fear of what he might find, he also was desperate to see some sign of his sibling - Vash did, Wolfwood decided, care for Knives. Maybe a little - or maybe a lot. The priest *knew* that the brothers were more than that - in a surreal way he sometimes glanced at Vash and saw instead the chilling face of Knives staring back through those soft eyes - and now when he recalled those days as a Gung-ho Gun proper, it was easy to picture Vash's scarred body beneath brilliant red-and-gray of the shipsuit Knives wore.
So he had watched as Vash first laid eyes on the monument left behind by his brother and lover, seen the blonde eyes fill with fear, anger, and strangely enough, an odd expression of what could almost be called love - a sense of being wanted. Seeing that there sent shivers of almost-emotions through Wolfwood's body and down his spine to coil loathing-ly in the pit of his stomach. Jealousy, soft and seductive, began to burn softly in the back of his mind - until Wolfwood turned away from that, narrowing his eyes.
They said you never forgot your first kiss, your first lover. Wolfwood remembered his, so why be surprised that Vash looked back on Knives - his very brother - with still-warm emotions?
Because he was a bastard. Because Knives had - for however long Vash's immortal life had been - made him miserable, manipulated his brother and those innocents that surrounded him. *That* was why. And why love Knives, when Wolfwood was here, ready, waiting - ?
Not anymore. The priest threw down a wrench and stared darkly at his bike. Ever since the incident with Zazie (Wolfwood's mind glossed over that, shoving away the breakdown he could feel bubbling to the surface like poison before it could emerge) and the sandworms, things had been utterly different between he and Vash. It wasn't quite an argument - just a distance, as wide as the cliff had been on that night when Vash had fallen, angel in all but wings, from the brilliant heights to the bosom of the planet. That distance was holding him away, and had been for the last few weeks
All of that, and the little sensation in the back of Wolfwood's mind that was growing with alarming speed. A hunted feeling -
Eyes, on the back of his neck, that burned there like twin flames. The priest looked up, and caught his breath, as a single object caught his eyes.
Chapel.
There was an apple, small and green and perfectly formed, clutched in the palm of the older, 'wiser' man - and as he leaned against the wall, smiling the smile of someone with secrets, Wolfwood couldn't suppress a shudder. Eyes that were calculating behind red-hued glasses traced over Wolfwood's body, as the priest moved closer, stood, stared at the man that had raised him from the age of seven, had taught him to fire a gun, to cheat at poker, to kiss, to kill.
Chapel, whose name he had taken.
The name came with a thousand memories, and all of them bad - most centered around the fruit in his palm. Seeing him here with Vash so close by gave the priest a thrill that was most definitely unwelcome - because Chapel's presence meant something had changed in the plan. He wasn't supposed to be here... not now. Not here.
Something was said, something plain and unimportant, and Wolfwood responded, muttering about trouble makers in a vain attempt to respond while his tongue felt leaden between his lips. He couldn't take his eyes off that damn apple, couldn't help the fascination he had always seen the fruit with - it was forbidden.
Forbidden fruit. Heh. Some things never changed.
Wolfwood reached for the apple again, but it disappeared a moment before his hand neared the orb, and he bit back a half-sob at the closeness, the proximity of victory and then sudden defeat. That apple-
In his mind, the priest settled back on the oldest of legends, the first he had known, of Adam and Eve and the serpent that had tempted them with a glittering apple and the promise of all the knowledge in the world. Innocence had been lost when a bite was taken from that fruit - and as Wolfwood watched Chapel's skilled hands curling and uncurling around his green playtoy, he couldn't help but wonder if - when he *did* manage to capture that elusive apple - his facade of innocence would be dropped and he could move onwards into the sin he already held within himself. Because wasn't that all he was? A lie? A fake sort of person, a 'priest' with nothing but a love for children and God? That was what he had told Vash so long ago, though the lie no longer held water between them. Still....
With that apple would come a release from his lie. When he at last devoured that fruit, he could *live* the sin, instead of wrapping it under so many little masks, until he himself had disappeared beneath the layers and perfect round green skin. And that release in itself was worth more than a thousand years of carefully spun untruths...
More words. He kept his eyes trained on his mentor, assured himself that the small smirk of quiet defiance was safe on his lips - a lie, just like the rest of it, just like him, a defense against what might come. Whether or not Chapel realized what was going on inside his student's head, Wolfwood would never know - but as long as he was going to lie to the world, the priest would lie to *all* the world, no matter who they were. Nobody needed to know who he was... Nobody needed to understand him.
"...and from now on you too are a Gung-Ho Gun."
No. Wolfwood wanted to open his mouth and say no, no I'm not, I'll never be like that again, but the words wouldn't come, and he turned numbly away, the shame of that admission burning in his chest as be began moving again, searching a cool place to sit in his misery. He didn't *want* to be like that - that was the horrible thing. He just wanted...Vash, to be near Vash. It was a need that was terrifying in it's awful strength, quiet and unforgiving. He had killed one child - would kill another, if it meant Vash could continue smiling - and that simple admission tore Wolfwood up inside.
Chapel was staring at him, and Wolfwood gulped back air, trying to speak - a rough nod, a bitter stare, and he reached for his cross, fingers hooking mechanically around leather straps.
Zazie. A monster - but a child. A *child.* Vash...
He passed Vash, by the monument, stared into mourning eyes for a moment before looking away, unable to stand the guilt and terror there. He just kept moving, picking a door, swinging it open, slinging his cross down and cupping his head in his hands, unable to think or move or breath.
A Gung-ho Gun, just when he was understanding what it meant to be free, to actually care -
Wolfwood didn't even realize he was crying until another person entered the room, and he was forced to hide his eyes, lest his tears be seen.
~~~~
You're tearing it down, yeah, you're bringing it down
And it's all on you
And I didn't get those things
Things that you can't grow
You say that it's all my fault
And I don't need to know
Tell me something I don't know
And I'll find that I'm always looking 'round behind me
You said that it's all been said before
~~~~
"Please...eat the sandwiches."
Soft. Nice. A stable angel in his arms - Wolfwood leaned against Milly's shoulder, sighing as her arms slipped around his neck. Before he really knew what was happening, there were tears in his eyes again, and she was stroking the back of his neck, her fingers long and gentle. She smelled sweet -
She was going to go. He clutched convulsively at her sleeves, staring up.
"Will you eat them with me?"
Don't leave me, don't leave me, please I can't be alone please don't go please -
In moments she was perched on the couch next to him, her eyes wide pools of compassion as she regarded him almost nervously. For a moment they were silent, staring at one another with nothing to be said - and then Wolfwood had opened his arms, and she curled herself against him, her head coming just below his chin, despite her height. Wolfwood tightened his grip, clinging to her like a drowning man -
Wasn't she like the boy he had shot? Innocent and childish despite her appearances? Hadn't he snuffed a similar candle out only days before -
"It wasn't your fault, you wanted to save Vash," Millie whispered, her breath warm against his cheek. She seemed to draw the tension from his body into her own, in the way only the most innocent can manage to do. "You used the best choice you had, mister priest."
The best solution? No, there was always a way to save everyone, wasn't there? Vash said so... Wolfwood clung to that, feeling his vision and hearing swim in waves of uncertainty. Vash said so. "I should have saved everyone."
God.
For a moment Wolfwood tried to bolster the illusion that he had released Zazie from the hell this world was - but he couldn't really believe that. It was a belief that simply pushed his breakdown away, an automatic function of a mind that desperately sought self-preservation...
"I hate this," it was practically a prayer. Hell, it was more honest than any of his sermons... Idealistic religious crap. He hated that, too. Hated Vash's eyes.
"I know," she whispered, and kissed his cheek so lightly that it almost seemed like a dream. The priest buried his face in her hair for a moment and inhaled sharply, tasting the soft scent that was distinctly feminine, warm and comforting. If only Vash were that gentle and soft through and through, if only Vash was speaking to him, if only the pain would leave his eyes -
Wolfwood kissed the girl gently, eyes closed as he sank forward. Would he ever taste Vash again...? Would he ever fulfill the love that was so difficult to put into words? Would the Gods ever cease this endless game of cat and mouse and either let him free or crush him, either option a sweet release from limbo?
She kissed back, and for a moment that was all that mattered, he could pretend there was another in his arms, and the cloth he was peeling away could be tattered crimson, not dull white and mahogany...
Fabric shifted.
Someone moaned, moved, sighed. It didn't matter who. Wolfwood was falling.
"M...mister priest...?"
Maybe it was the way she said it, or the breathy tone of her voice, or the lack of scars dancing across her pale flesh - but Wolfwood looked up, and stared into eyes that were *not* fear-laced and timeless, but human and effused with emotion.
Not...Vash?
He slipped back, staring hard at her as she blushed faintly and crossed her arms over her nearly-bare chest, suddenly modest as he stumbled for words, groping for sense in the situation. "Millie-"
"You need a distraction, don't you, mister priest?" the girl smiled up at him, faintly. "Since Mister Vash is so angry..I th-thought I could help..."
Wolfwood shifted against her and sat back, shaking his head in a vain attempt to clear his thoughts. What was he doing? Millie was an innocent - and if he needed distraction, she shouldn't be the one to do it. Distraction....that was how Wolfwood had always summed up his relationship with Midvalley, and look what had happened there? He wasn't sure what had gone wrong, but somehow 'love' had been thrown into the mix - and the way Millie was looking at him...
He tried to ignore the insistent, nagging voice that told him sleeping with the girl would be cheating on Vash.
**There's nothing to cheat on,** he screamed at himself, slamming a fist down into the pillow and grimacing as tears began running down his face again. So weak... It wasn't *fair*. How could he feel such attachment? How could *he*, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, care so fucking much about someone that never... that couldn't....That didn't reciprocate what he felt? That couldn't compromise their morals for the beliefs he held himself? It was a fucking weakness, coiling in his heart, like poison in his veins. Even if Knives *would* let him go, Wolfwood felt like a tiger that had lost it's teeth - Vash's sweet words had been the guilty candy, tempting him into this new realm, where he could barely stand.
Sobbing, Wolfwood curled up against himself and bit his lip as hard as he could, concentrating on the pain to make everything go away. All of the hurt, anger, bitter resignation that rang through his chest and heart with every pump of blood...
Nicholas D. Wolfwood wanted to die, right there, on the dark bed in Millie's soft arms - but he settled for burying his face against her chest, the sexual tension of moments before gone as his soul broke itself all to pieces.
It wasn't fair. God, but it wasn't...
Vash...where was Vash? Was he dreaming of fields of gold and a long haired woman -
Or of the blonde-haired psychopath Wolfwood would shortly be delivering him to?
~~~~
Now I find that there's something I don't know
And I know
I don't know
And I say that
~~~~
Shaking, as he reached out, plucked it free, held it's even weight in his palm - completion, like a piece of himself had been uncovered. The sweetest thing he had ever tasted...
He looked up. Stood a bit straighter as he met the older man's eyes.
Smiled, and meant it.
"May you go with God's protection..."
The gunshots didn't end.
~~~~
If you break enough glass and there's no one to hear
And your heart's full of hate
'Cause your mind's full of fear
Let it go
So far away
So far away
So far away
Oh so far away
So far away
So far away
~~~~
~~~~
Why do you stare me down?
Am I wrong?
Should I turn and kiss the ground?
And I never felt that way
I ain't the one and you know I don't come from such a place
And I didn't get those things
Things that you can't grow
You say that it's all my fault
And I don't need to know
[So Far Away - Goo Goo Dolls]
~~~~
It was liquid and cool, like sand melted and fused and rolling in bubbly, creamy lava-rivers - and at the same time it was all gray and inviting, icing on a cake. It was everywhere and nowhere whatsoever, it was an existence that had none, no physical edge to a world where emotions were alive, were the very fabric of everything.
They were walking there, together, through the void that was both there and yet not. Wolfwood was staring out at the flickering landscape, reflecting that if his eyes were being truthful, he should have drowned long before - however, since he was living, he assumed that this world was a bit different from his own - before pushing the matter away. It didn't quite matter, did it?
There had been a question, hadn't there? What was he trying to answer? The priest placed a finger on his temple and pulled the curious query from the back of his subconscious. Finally, he settled on it - through it was like trying to pin a rainbow on the surface of oily, dirty water.
"It's like I'm blind, walking down a dark tunnel with no walls and no floor and I don't know where I'm going. And there's someone's hand, reaching to me - and I can feel that - but no matter how fast I run or how desperately I reach, there's nothing there."
The woman smiled gently, running her fingers through her dark hair. She was wearing clothes far too casual for Wolfwood to really notice - and that was the very reason he did, taking in the soft white shirt and baggy jeans with near-suspicion. They were pristine, despite the inky blue around her - and she looked out of place against that backdrop - too clean to be submerged in this filthy sin. "Are you that lonely?"
He looked away. "Yeah."
"And you don't know what you're looking for..."
"I know that somewhere, there's a monument. I was told of that, and told that Vash had to see it, no matter what the cost. So far it's cost me everything - my heart, my soul, whatever future I might have had - not to mention, I'm sure, my life. All of that sacrificed, just so that Vash can be tossed back into the cesspit of Knives' obsession. I'm a fool."
These dreams, they'd been so common, he reflected. And this woman, a counselor in the night, easing him through his worst nightmares... "I've killed a child. What can I say about myself with a death like that on my hands?"
The woman looked away, sighing softly. Small bubbles danced at the corners of her lips and disappeared, floating away into nothing at all - the look she wore was the same that Vash sometimes displayed, when he was reflecting on a decision that had been made and could never be changed - however, when she looked back at him, all of the concern in her eyes had evaporated and was replaced by a gentle, sheepish grin.
Wolfwood felt a bitter, stabbing feeling invade his chest, and he narrowed his eyes. "Don't smile like that. You don't know what it's like to break away from the morals you've known your entire life! You don't know what I felt, pulling that trigger - damn Vash for needing someone to cover him, damn his stupid beliefs!"
She bit her lip. "No, don't even give me that look! You, who's haunted my dreams and echoed in my waking hours! What are you, a ghost, a demon? I have no need for those! Vash is demon enough with his fucking eyes and those damned scars..."
"I appreciate you taking care of him, you know," she smiled a smile that lit up the not-water around her and made Wolfwood shiver slightly and the purity behind it - enough to make him feel ten times dirtier than even Vash did. "Sometimes he just can't take care of himself."
"Well, I'm doing a shitty job," Wolfwood grimaced and reached for a cigarette, more out of habit than necessity. To his surprise, the woman didn't comment as inhaled without even lighting the nicotine-stick, and the drag was satisfactory - she just regarded him with a sort of omnipotent, opinion-less smile. It was almost frightening, her look of all-encompassing love... "It's just a matter of who dies first, now. There's nothing I can do to change anything."
"Are you afraid of death?" The woman tilted her head inquisitively, and Wolfwood suppressed the urge to scoot closer to the warmth in her gaze, away from their cold surroundings.
"Let's go back to the damn tunnel - if I'm blind and deaf and dumb, death is the light at the end of the tunnel. Only, the tunnel has no end, and the light is a change of some sort, whether it's good or bad or really anything at all, it's something. You see?" He took a long drag of his cigarette, and the nicotine tasted sweeter than the finest wine. "I'm blind, and Vash is following me. He's a damn usable fool. Pushover."
"He's like that because he wants to be like that," the girl looked down, hair falling in front of her slightly-guilty eyes. "I think that to him, being used is close to being loved - maybe because of Knives, or maybe because he's never really been *loved* for who he is since Knives left him. By now he doesn't know the difference anymore, between love and hate.
Wolfwood leaned back. Difference between love and hate? As separate as black and white, existence and nothing, Vash and Knives.
"I read a book once, " she said, looking up. "It was about a woman who broke away from her society and morals, defying everything, just so that she stay near with the man she loved and the father of her child. They were never acknowledged until he lay dying in her arms on a scaffold of sin - but in the end, they were open and honest, and buried beside each other."
"I don't read books," Wolfwood spit.
"You should." A sigh, and she tugged habitually on the necklace around her neck. "You've followed Vash now for months, haven't you? And I've guided you as best I can.... because I love him, and Knives, too." a pause. "Do you?"
"Love...?"
"Do you love Vash?"
The woman was leaning closer to him, her chocolate eyes boiling into his soul. "Nicholas, it's important that you answer. Please, and answer honestly. Do you love Vash the Stampede?"
"I... Who the hell are you, anyway?!" Wolfwood leaned back, his cigarette nearly falling from his lips. The water-air swirled and sucked around him, pulling him towards blackness that he desperately feared - the blackness was waking up from this peaceful, serene paradise of blue.
"You should know by now," she whispered, though her eyes asked the question again and again. Vash, with his soft, fake smiles and the honest agony that was as much a part of him as the plate across his breast... Wolfwood found his throat closing up, unwilling to admit his feelings, but unable to deny them after being taken into Vash's closest confidence.
"I.....do."
~~~~
Tell me something I don't know
And I'll find that I'm always looking 'round behind me
You said that it's all been said before
Now I find that there's something I don't know
And I hate your attitude I ain't scared at all 'Cause it don't matter what you do
And I'll turn around to see the truth
~~~~
They stopped in front of the monument, and Wolfwood stared over the rim of his sunglasses. He could help himself, after hearing and talking about it for so long, the sinister monument seemed more than just a threat - its red-smeared surface glared in the harsh light with an unwinking gaze that sent shivers down the priest's back. It was...one word, etched in blood, that echoed and multiplied the power of Knives and his fellows. It was...
Terrifying, really. Wolfwood hated it, and wished he had never bothered to fulfil his mission.
The bike he was so proud of, a dusty, filthy thing, had broken down just on the outskirts of town - for once with timing that Wolfwood was grateful for. Those last few blocks had been so tense, with Vash at his side, trembling with indecision. Wolfwood could tell that as much as the blonde trembled in fear of what he might find, he also was desperate to see some sign of his sibling - Vash did, Wolfwood decided, care for Knives. Maybe a little - or maybe a lot. The priest *knew* that the brothers were more than that - in a surreal way he sometimes glanced at Vash and saw instead the chilling face of Knives staring back through those soft eyes - and now when he recalled those days as a Gung-ho Gun proper, it was easy to picture Vash's scarred body beneath brilliant red-and-gray of the shipsuit Knives wore.
So he had watched as Vash first laid eyes on the monument left behind by his brother and lover, seen the blonde eyes fill with fear, anger, and strangely enough, an odd expression of what could almost be called love - a sense of being wanted. Seeing that there sent shivers of almost-emotions through Wolfwood's body and down his spine to coil loathing-ly in the pit of his stomach. Jealousy, soft and seductive, began to burn softly in the back of his mind - until Wolfwood turned away from that, narrowing his eyes.
They said you never forgot your first kiss, your first lover. Wolfwood remembered his, so why be surprised that Vash looked back on Knives - his very brother - with still-warm emotions?
Because he was a bastard. Because Knives had - for however long Vash's immortal life had been - made him miserable, manipulated his brother and those innocents that surrounded him. *That* was why. And why love Knives, when Wolfwood was here, ready, waiting - ?
Not anymore. The priest threw down a wrench and stared darkly at his bike. Ever since the incident with Zazie (Wolfwood's mind glossed over that, shoving away the breakdown he could feel bubbling to the surface like poison before it could emerge) and the sandworms, things had been utterly different between he and Vash. It wasn't quite an argument - just a distance, as wide as the cliff had been on that night when Vash had fallen, angel in all but wings, from the brilliant heights to the bosom of the planet. That distance was holding him away, and had been for the last few weeks
All of that, and the little sensation in the back of Wolfwood's mind that was growing with alarming speed. A hunted feeling -
Eyes, on the back of his neck, that burned there like twin flames. The priest looked up, and caught his breath, as a single object caught his eyes.
Chapel.
There was an apple, small and green and perfectly formed, clutched in the palm of the older, 'wiser' man - and as he leaned against the wall, smiling the smile of someone with secrets, Wolfwood couldn't suppress a shudder. Eyes that were calculating behind red-hued glasses traced over Wolfwood's body, as the priest moved closer, stood, stared at the man that had raised him from the age of seven, had taught him to fire a gun, to cheat at poker, to kiss, to kill.
Chapel, whose name he had taken.
The name came with a thousand memories, and all of them bad - most centered around the fruit in his palm. Seeing him here with Vash so close by gave the priest a thrill that was most definitely unwelcome - because Chapel's presence meant something had changed in the plan. He wasn't supposed to be here... not now. Not here.
Something was said, something plain and unimportant, and Wolfwood responded, muttering about trouble makers in a vain attempt to respond while his tongue felt leaden between his lips. He couldn't take his eyes off that damn apple, couldn't help the fascination he had always seen the fruit with - it was forbidden.
Forbidden fruit. Heh. Some things never changed.
Wolfwood reached for the apple again, but it disappeared a moment before his hand neared the orb, and he bit back a half-sob at the closeness, the proximity of victory and then sudden defeat. That apple-
In his mind, the priest settled back on the oldest of legends, the first he had known, of Adam and Eve and the serpent that had tempted them with a glittering apple and the promise of all the knowledge in the world. Innocence had been lost when a bite was taken from that fruit - and as Wolfwood watched Chapel's skilled hands curling and uncurling around his green playtoy, he couldn't help but wonder if - when he *did* manage to capture that elusive apple - his facade of innocence would be dropped and he could move onwards into the sin he already held within himself. Because wasn't that all he was? A lie? A fake sort of person, a 'priest' with nothing but a love for children and God? That was what he had told Vash so long ago, though the lie no longer held water between them. Still....
With that apple would come a release from his lie. When he at last devoured that fruit, he could *live* the sin, instead of wrapping it under so many little masks, until he himself had disappeared beneath the layers and perfect round green skin. And that release in itself was worth more than a thousand years of carefully spun untruths...
More words. He kept his eyes trained on his mentor, assured himself that the small smirk of quiet defiance was safe on his lips - a lie, just like the rest of it, just like him, a defense against what might come. Whether or not Chapel realized what was going on inside his student's head, Wolfwood would never know - but as long as he was going to lie to the world, the priest would lie to *all* the world, no matter who they were. Nobody needed to know who he was... Nobody needed to understand him.
"...and from now on you too are a Gung-Ho Gun."
No. Wolfwood wanted to open his mouth and say no, no I'm not, I'll never be like that again, but the words wouldn't come, and he turned numbly away, the shame of that admission burning in his chest as be began moving again, searching a cool place to sit in his misery. He didn't *want* to be like that - that was the horrible thing. He just wanted...Vash, to be near Vash. It was a need that was terrifying in it's awful strength, quiet and unforgiving. He had killed one child - would kill another, if it meant Vash could continue smiling - and that simple admission tore Wolfwood up inside.
Chapel was staring at him, and Wolfwood gulped back air, trying to speak - a rough nod, a bitter stare, and he reached for his cross, fingers hooking mechanically around leather straps.
Zazie. A monster - but a child. A *child.* Vash...
He passed Vash, by the monument, stared into mourning eyes for a moment before looking away, unable to stand the guilt and terror there. He just kept moving, picking a door, swinging it open, slinging his cross down and cupping his head in his hands, unable to think or move or breath.
A Gung-ho Gun, just when he was understanding what it meant to be free, to actually care -
Wolfwood didn't even realize he was crying until another person entered the room, and he was forced to hide his eyes, lest his tears be seen.
~~~~
You're tearing it down, yeah, you're bringing it down
And it's all on you
And I didn't get those things
Things that you can't grow
You say that it's all my fault
And I don't need to know
Tell me something I don't know
And I'll find that I'm always looking 'round behind me
You said that it's all been said before
~~~~
"Please...eat the sandwiches."
Soft. Nice. A stable angel in his arms - Wolfwood leaned against Milly's shoulder, sighing as her arms slipped around his neck. Before he really knew what was happening, there were tears in his eyes again, and she was stroking the back of his neck, her fingers long and gentle. She smelled sweet -
She was going to go. He clutched convulsively at her sleeves, staring up.
"Will you eat them with me?"
Don't leave me, don't leave me, please I can't be alone please don't go please -
In moments she was perched on the couch next to him, her eyes wide pools of compassion as she regarded him almost nervously. For a moment they were silent, staring at one another with nothing to be said - and then Wolfwood had opened his arms, and she curled herself against him, her head coming just below his chin, despite her height. Wolfwood tightened his grip, clinging to her like a drowning man -
Wasn't she like the boy he had shot? Innocent and childish despite her appearances? Hadn't he snuffed a similar candle out only days before -
"It wasn't your fault, you wanted to save Vash," Millie whispered, her breath warm against his cheek. She seemed to draw the tension from his body into her own, in the way only the most innocent can manage to do. "You used the best choice you had, mister priest."
The best solution? No, there was always a way to save everyone, wasn't there? Vash said so... Wolfwood clung to that, feeling his vision and hearing swim in waves of uncertainty. Vash said so. "I should have saved everyone."
God.
For a moment Wolfwood tried to bolster the illusion that he had released Zazie from the hell this world was - but he couldn't really believe that. It was a belief that simply pushed his breakdown away, an automatic function of a mind that desperately sought self-preservation...
"I hate this," it was practically a prayer. Hell, it was more honest than any of his sermons... Idealistic religious crap. He hated that, too. Hated Vash's eyes.
"I know," she whispered, and kissed his cheek so lightly that it almost seemed like a dream. The priest buried his face in her hair for a moment and inhaled sharply, tasting the soft scent that was distinctly feminine, warm and comforting. If only Vash were that gentle and soft through and through, if only Vash was speaking to him, if only the pain would leave his eyes -
Wolfwood kissed the girl gently, eyes closed as he sank forward. Would he ever taste Vash again...? Would he ever fulfill the love that was so difficult to put into words? Would the Gods ever cease this endless game of cat and mouse and either let him free or crush him, either option a sweet release from limbo?
She kissed back, and for a moment that was all that mattered, he could pretend there was another in his arms, and the cloth he was peeling away could be tattered crimson, not dull white and mahogany...
Fabric shifted.
Someone moaned, moved, sighed. It didn't matter who. Wolfwood was falling.
"M...mister priest...?"
Maybe it was the way she said it, or the breathy tone of her voice, or the lack of scars dancing across her pale flesh - but Wolfwood looked up, and stared into eyes that were *not* fear-laced and timeless, but human and effused with emotion.
Not...Vash?
He slipped back, staring hard at her as she blushed faintly and crossed her arms over her nearly-bare chest, suddenly modest as he stumbled for words, groping for sense in the situation. "Millie-"
"You need a distraction, don't you, mister priest?" the girl smiled up at him, faintly. "Since Mister Vash is so angry..I th-thought I could help..."
Wolfwood shifted against her and sat back, shaking his head in a vain attempt to clear his thoughts. What was he doing? Millie was an innocent - and if he needed distraction, she shouldn't be the one to do it. Distraction....that was how Wolfwood had always summed up his relationship with Midvalley, and look what had happened there? He wasn't sure what had gone wrong, but somehow 'love' had been thrown into the mix - and the way Millie was looking at him...
He tried to ignore the insistent, nagging voice that told him sleeping with the girl would be cheating on Vash.
**There's nothing to cheat on,** he screamed at himself, slamming a fist down into the pillow and grimacing as tears began running down his face again. So weak... It wasn't *fair*. How could he feel such attachment? How could *he*, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, care so fucking much about someone that never... that couldn't....That didn't reciprocate what he felt? That couldn't compromise their morals for the beliefs he held himself? It was a fucking weakness, coiling in his heart, like poison in his veins. Even if Knives *would* let him go, Wolfwood felt like a tiger that had lost it's teeth - Vash's sweet words had been the guilty candy, tempting him into this new realm, where he could barely stand.
Sobbing, Wolfwood curled up against himself and bit his lip as hard as he could, concentrating on the pain to make everything go away. All of the hurt, anger, bitter resignation that rang through his chest and heart with every pump of blood...
Nicholas D. Wolfwood wanted to die, right there, on the dark bed in Millie's soft arms - but he settled for burying his face against her chest, the sexual tension of moments before gone as his soul broke itself all to pieces.
It wasn't fair. God, but it wasn't...
Vash...where was Vash? Was he dreaming of fields of gold and a long haired woman -
Or of the blonde-haired psychopath Wolfwood would shortly be delivering him to?
~~~~
Now I find that there's something I don't know
And I know
I don't know
And I say that
~~~~
Shaking, as he reached out, plucked it free, held it's even weight in his palm - completion, like a piece of himself had been uncovered. The sweetest thing he had ever tasted...
He looked up. Stood a bit straighter as he met the older man's eyes.
Smiled, and meant it.
"May you go with God's protection..."
The gunshots didn't end.
~~~~
If you break enough glass and there's no one to hear
And your heart's full of hate
'Cause your mind's full of fear
Let it go
So far away
So far away
So far away
Oh so far away
So far away
So far away
~~~~
