Wai! Another chapter, dedicated to all the nice people who reviewed so far, and the last of my pre-typed stuff...now I just have to find the notepad with the rest on it. =^_^;=
Anyway, I don't own Trigun...but you already knew that...I wouldn't have had the heart for certain occurances, toward the end of the series. =;_;=
Break my Heart—Part Three
LH-chan '02
Even through the black shirt Vash still wore, Wolfwood thought the wounds looked bad; the first, low on his chest, spreading blood across his shirtfront, the second, high on his arm, just above where his long gauntlet ended.
Not much I can do out here, thought Wolfwood grimly; the fact that all he had to work with was the clothes on his back and a gun drifting nastily through his mind.
Can't tell him that, though...just have to do the best I can.
He shrugged out of his jacket, then the white shirt underneath, pulling his jacket back over his bare chest as the cooling air that rose off the desert raised gooseflesh. Then he settled down on the sand across from Vash, and began tearing the white shirt into strips and tying them together. Crude bandages at best, but all he could manage under the circumstances.
"Ne, Wolfwood..." said Vash, not bothering to lift his head this time. "You shouldn't stay with me...like this.... If those bounty hunters find us...."
"You don't really think I'd leave you here?"
"No...but you should...."
"I won't. Now shut up, and save your strength," said Wolfwood, tying off the last knot in the makeshift bandages.
Rocking forward on his knees, Wolfwood leaned toward Vash, reaching out with a gentle hand to lift the bottom of the black turtleneck away from the first of the bullet wounds.
Vash's had stopped his in mid-motion.
"No...another way.... You can't see..." muttered Vash, his voice weak, but his grip strong.
"Tongari...what?"
Vash winced, trying to move away from Wolfwood's hand.
"Please...you can't...."
"Vash! How can I keep you from bleeding to death if I can't even tell if the bullet's out!" Wolfwood shouted.
The use of Vash's true name seemed to startle the blonde gunman. Indeed, the words felt awkward on Wolfwood's lips; he hadn't realized how long it had been since he had last used it. Not since he'd given Vash his nickname...in the back of a truck on the way to New Oregon, a truck they'd been thrown off moments later, for being "loud and obnoxious".
"But...not you..." Vash's words jerked Wolfwood back to reality. "You'll...."
Something wet dropped onto Wolfwood's outstretched hand, but in the failing light, he couldn't tell if it was condensation dripping from the rocks, or a teardrop.
"Sorry, Tongari," said Wolfwood, "but anyone else who could help you is back in that town full of bounty hunters; and the Hell if I'm gonna let you die out here just 'cause you're hiding something from me."
With a sharp movement, he pulled his hand from Vash's grip, and reached forward once more. The blonde gunman tensed slightly, but made no move to resist.
Slowly, and as carefully as he could, Wolfwood peeled back the bloody fabric of Vash's shirt, his fingertips brushing across...something. Flesh, dipped away oddly. Wolfwood explored it gently with a fingertip, feeling a jagged edge to it; a scar.
Idiot, Tongari, Wolfwood thought, if that's what you're hiding...a guy with a life half as eventful as the rumors about you must have a few scars!