Disclaimer: I don't own Trigun or Wolfwood *sobs*
Rated PG for: I dunno, angsty stuff
AN: Well, um, this is my first Trigun fic. It's supposed to be just a short little one shot thing, and kind of introspective and all that good stuff. I haven't seen the last DVD yet, so don't yell at me if I did something incredibly stupid. I left out stuff about the past and stuff so that you could all use your imaginations. I know, the horror. ^_^
Cigarette
By: Shadow Phantom
The sun beat down on the desert planet, not even the smallest stirring of wind offered as relief from the intense heat. The time was high noon, time for showdowns, the time for staying away from the sun, the time where only the boldest went out in the heat and light. Nicolas D. Wolfwood, the traveling priest, gave no thought to any of this. He sat on the edge of a sun-baked cliff; his cross propped up behind him, sweat slightly beading on his upper lip. He was staring off at the horizon, his eyes squinted, a smoking and limp cigarette between his lips. There appeared to be something there and he leaned forward, shielding his eyes with his hand. His jaw slowly tightened and he leaned back again. Flicking t he cigarette on the ground he lifted up the cross and turned around, walking at a nonchalant pace. If he had to save Vash's sorry hide one more time…
"Hey Wolfwood! Mind helping me out here, I'm in a little bit of jam!" Vash called while dodging bullets like a maniac.
Wolfwood sighed and slammed his cross down. This moron just didn't know how to stay out of trouble. With a sniff he undid a buckle and the canvas flew off his cross revealing a huge metallic contraption.
"Don't kill anyone!" Vash yelled as a reminder.
"Like I could forget," Wolfwood muttered back, grabbing a pistol and aiming. Blam! One. Blam! Two. Blam! Three. "Hey! When are you going to learn how to stay away from people!"
Vash stood up, dusted himself off, and checked to make sure that nobody was fatally injured. "Thanks!" he grinned, "Don't know what I would do without you buddy!"
"Die!" Wolfwood yelled in response, wrapping the cross back up.
"Yeah, probably," Vash laughed, walking up the hill. Wolfwood buckled the last section into place and pulled out a cigarette. "You k now, those things will kill you one day."
"Everybody's gotta go sooner or later," he shrugged. The human typhoon's smile faded a bit and he shook his head. What was that look in his eyes? Sadness, pity, jealousy?
"Do you want to come visit Meryl with me?" Vash asked brightly. Wolfwood looked back and him through his dark sunglasses. He thought of all the times he could have earned sixty billion double dollars, by turning Vash in. As it was, he could hardly afford a smoke anymore.
"I'll pass. There's an abandoned town nearby I thought I'd stay for the night."
Again, Vash's face fell a little. "You used to hate being so serious. Laughing is good for the health you know."
Wolfwood sighed, "Well, I like brooding. Give me another couple years. Congratulations, by the way." He slung the cross over his shoulder and slouched off.
"Thanks! You're always welcome! Meryl would love to see you!" Vash called, waving his arm. Wolfwood nodded to himself. It was a kind offer, but he wouldn't be able to stand the cheer of the Stampede household. He couldn't stand the cheer of anything. As he approached the gate he looked around. He wasn't really hopeful, but still, the nostalgia was almost killing him. Everything was exactly the same as when he had last seen it. There were still bullet holes that chipped away the plaster from nearly every building, and the threads that held his sanity together. He lingered at the red doorway, running his hand over the frame, his eyes closed. A sigh of remembrance escaped his lips. The sun was moving, casting long shadows. HE looked at the smoky figure of himself on the dirt ground. He blinked and turned away, back toward the broken fountain. The water had long since dried up, and the rock was cracked and crumbling. The carved W was wearing from the rain and wind. The C wasn't even visible any longer. Wolfwood took a moment to consider re-carving it, but stood up without touching a thing. His memories were precious; he couldn't bear to add more pain to his heart. Finally, he paced, counting carefully, and kneeled down at a nondescript patch of dirt and stone. The thoughts and horrors that had haunted him for so long came flooding back. He made no sound, but a few tears fell to the earth turning the dirt into mud for a moment before the ground soaked up the moisture. He reached into his shirt and fumbled with the chain for a minute. The clasp eventually came undone and he produced a cross, which he looked at in thoughtful silence. Placing a kiss on it, he lay it on the broken tombstone.
Standing up, he wiped the sweat and tears off his sunglasses. The horizon looked to be on fire, a bright splash of red and orange. It wasn't too late; maybe he would be able to catch up to Vash. Maybe what he really needed was kind smiles and a sense of belonging. His gaze lingered on the small silver cross. "Happy birthday," he murmured, hefting up his cross. As he passed out of the gates, the wind picked up a little, rejuvenating him with its coolness. Staring off into the distance for a sign of that red coat, he started walking again, and lit his last cigarette.
The End
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There ya go folks! Review only if you have the energy. I understand.