Author Note: Again with the hiatus. Jeez. I'm unreliable as hell.
Anyway, I just thought I'd tag on another chapter. I thought I kind of ran
this into the ground, but I could very well be wrong. R&R if you like, and
if I'm encouraged enough, I may keep it up. Thanks a ton!
Disclaimer: We all know the drill here..refer to chapter one.
Sunlight filtered over dry, barren land leading right up to the desolate- seeming farmhouse. The desert gave way to nothing, stretching for dozens upon dozens of miles in every direction. In an odd way, it was serene. If one could get past the scorching heat, sandstorms, and severe dehydration, it wasn't a bad place to be when one's quest was solitude. The day started like any other. The morning was eerily quiet, and wind whipped low across open expanses, digging troughs in the earth that made it look like the scales of some giant reptilian thing. The eyes of such a beast crept over the horizon, albeit slowly. Gunsmoke's twin suns rose, mercilessly chasing away whatever moderate temperatures lingered from the night before. Shadows were chased away, banished for however long the day lasted. And even the days seemed to get longer every now and then. It was one of those days.
The dry serenity was broken by the sound of gunfire.
Nicholas, Vash, and Cayle had been up since long before daylight, all talking, laughing, and enjoying their time. Now though, it was as if something had weaved its way inside their heads and found the doorway to seriousness. It was all about business now. Vash had Cayle setting up targets for the Priest, so he could get back in the swing of the Punisher. Nick blasted each target into nothingness, each time hiding a grin that threatened to break the somber attitude of the trio. Wolfwood was a born gunfighter, and each time he squeezed the trigger, he could always count on the rush of adrenaline that followed soon after.
It was that part of him that he hated the most. He shouldn't like gunfighting, or violence. But he did. Maybe that's what made him the man for the job. A peacelover pacifist couldn't do away with the scum that plague Gunsmoke that had branded themselves the Gung-Ho Guns. But, Nick reminded himself, an animal couldn't do it either. He always thought back to the accident when he had been captured by the Guns not too long back. He vowed that would never happen again.
"Go," His voice found itself sliding through gritted teeth, but Cayle got the message. The boy slung a paint can high into the air, away from the sunrise. It hadn't been out of his hand a half of a second when three rounds tore into it, sending it into an awkward tumble.
"You know, Priest, I'm starting to wonder if your trying to scare us, or just shoot us," That from Vash. The Red Man stood behind them, arms crossed over his chest, grinning like a child.
"Right," Nick's somber attitude finally cracked, and he chuckled just a bit. It didn't last. "I don't know if I can manage this, Stampede."
"You can, and you will. We both know my way doesn't work. I got innocents killed, hurt, and-" Nick cut him off.
"That's enough, you know that's not true, just like the rest of us." Vash had no response. They began to walk back toward the house, in silence, and Vash stopped, Cayle instinctively stopping as well. Nick took a few steps, stopped, and turned.
"Nick, you know you have to go." They were words Vash wish he didn't have to say. But the tired Priest only nodded, looked at his feet, and nodded again. He started toward the house, alone, and the two men in red watched him go.
"Cayle," Vash turned to his son. "You know I created you from Knives." The comment came so far out of left field that Cayle stuttered for a moment. It had been a long time since they had talked about his origins. "Yes, father. Knives died, and you used a part of you pair with what was left of him, and created me." The words were regurgitated nearly verbatim from what Vas had told the boy.
"That's right," Vash looked to watch Nick dissapear inside the house. "I wanted to be sure that you could do what you had to. I knew, somehow I knew that this day would come." The faraway look in Vash's eyes told the boy that his father perhaps really had known. It was a look of youthfulness that looked out of place these days on a face that hadn't smiled in a long time. Not before yesterday. "I want you to go with him, but don't tell him. Follow him, help him if he needs it. He is an extraordinary man, but he is one man. He will need your eyes."
"Father, I couldn't just leave you here to - " Vash held up a hand.
"I will be fine. I'm in no danger here. No more arguments. Go inside through the back door and get some things together. You leave tonight." Cayle was afraid. He'd never been out wandering before, let alone with a mission. He searched his father's face for something, anything that he could use, he had to change his father's mind. But no, the face looking back at him was resolute, determined.
The second member of the crowd departed without saying a word.
Vash stood for minutes that seemed to stretch into hours, staring at the suns. Eventually he reached into one of his coat pockets and donned a pair of yellow-tinted sunglasses. He smiled as memories raced through his head like scattered sunbeams. The memories threatened to overwhelm him in a rush of nostalgia, but they were quelled when Nick emerged from the house. He truly looked like divine intervention made manifest.
He had slipped on a clean suit, sunglasses, and all the other trimmings. Perhaps most imposing, though, were the two man-sized crosses he had slung over his shoulders. To anyone who had never heard of the legends, he was a crazed bible-thumper taking things too seriously. To those in the know, he was a holy demon.
Nick stopped in front of his old friend. "Its going to be a long walk." He half-smiled. He hated goodbyes. Especially this one, with the only person left that he knew.
"Not as long as you think." Vash nodded past Wolfwood, and the Priest turned to look, briefly forgetting that he was lugging the two crosses, and hitting Vash squarely in the head with one. The ensuing *thud* was not enough to make the Priest pull his eyes away from the sight before him. Cayle was wheeling around a motorcycle. A blue one.
"Where did you..?" Nick turned, but Vash was still sprawled on the ground. After a moment of hauling him to his feet and re-arranging the crosses, Nick asked his question again. "Where did you get that?"
"You left it in the city," Vash was nursing a large lump on the side of his temple that seemed to throb incessantly.
Nick grinned and met Cayle half-way. It seemed so automatic the way he strapped the crosses to the side and straddled the bike. A hells-angel and grinning like the devil. Even Vash smiled. Nick looked out over the horizon and sighed, slipping off the bike and walking back to where Cayle had now joined his father.
"I guess this is goodbye, again." Nick sniffed and slid his hands into his jacket pockets.
"It is, but only for a while. I expect you to be back here when your," Vash thought a moment, "quest is over. Or when you need a break." He cracked a smile that was contagious. They embraced again and separated.
"Cayle, it was a pleasure. Thanks for finding me," Cayle smiled and he and the Priest shook hands. Nick looked at them both once more and turned, before his emotions betrayed him. Starting now, he didn't have the luxury of tender emotions. He got two steps before Vash stopped him.
"Nick." The Priest turned just in time to reflexively catch a large red coat being thrown at him. Nick looked down at the garment, confused. "For luck," Vash smiled hugely and gave him a thumbs up.
Confidence rushed into the Priest like a firestorm. He grinned and slung the coat around his shoulders, leaving it hanging open on his chest. After a moment of checking his equipment, saddlebags, and gas, Nick swept onto the bike, kicked up the stand, and sped off toward the still-rising suns. Wind whipped through his hair and sand stung his face. But he didn't care, and he didn't look back.
"You leave tonight," Vash reiterated, and Cayle only nodded. They watched as the Priest sped off, leaving a snakelike trail of dust in his wake. Vash shook his head and chuckled under his breath. After a few more moments, the trail had faded and Wolfwood was nothing but a spec on the horizon. Cayle moved off to get his things together and give his father a moment alone.
Vash thought about many things in those moments, but he couldn't think of anything that mattered more than his last, unspoken words to the Priest, "Good luck."
Disclaimer: We all know the drill here..refer to chapter one.
Sunlight filtered over dry, barren land leading right up to the desolate- seeming farmhouse. The desert gave way to nothing, stretching for dozens upon dozens of miles in every direction. In an odd way, it was serene. If one could get past the scorching heat, sandstorms, and severe dehydration, it wasn't a bad place to be when one's quest was solitude. The day started like any other. The morning was eerily quiet, and wind whipped low across open expanses, digging troughs in the earth that made it look like the scales of some giant reptilian thing. The eyes of such a beast crept over the horizon, albeit slowly. Gunsmoke's twin suns rose, mercilessly chasing away whatever moderate temperatures lingered from the night before. Shadows were chased away, banished for however long the day lasted. And even the days seemed to get longer every now and then. It was one of those days.
The dry serenity was broken by the sound of gunfire.
Nicholas, Vash, and Cayle had been up since long before daylight, all talking, laughing, and enjoying their time. Now though, it was as if something had weaved its way inside their heads and found the doorway to seriousness. It was all about business now. Vash had Cayle setting up targets for the Priest, so he could get back in the swing of the Punisher. Nick blasted each target into nothingness, each time hiding a grin that threatened to break the somber attitude of the trio. Wolfwood was a born gunfighter, and each time he squeezed the trigger, he could always count on the rush of adrenaline that followed soon after.
It was that part of him that he hated the most. He shouldn't like gunfighting, or violence. But he did. Maybe that's what made him the man for the job. A peacelover pacifist couldn't do away with the scum that plague Gunsmoke that had branded themselves the Gung-Ho Guns. But, Nick reminded himself, an animal couldn't do it either. He always thought back to the accident when he had been captured by the Guns not too long back. He vowed that would never happen again.
"Go," His voice found itself sliding through gritted teeth, but Cayle got the message. The boy slung a paint can high into the air, away from the sunrise. It hadn't been out of his hand a half of a second when three rounds tore into it, sending it into an awkward tumble.
"You know, Priest, I'm starting to wonder if your trying to scare us, or just shoot us," That from Vash. The Red Man stood behind them, arms crossed over his chest, grinning like a child.
"Right," Nick's somber attitude finally cracked, and he chuckled just a bit. It didn't last. "I don't know if I can manage this, Stampede."
"You can, and you will. We both know my way doesn't work. I got innocents killed, hurt, and-" Nick cut him off.
"That's enough, you know that's not true, just like the rest of us." Vash had no response. They began to walk back toward the house, in silence, and Vash stopped, Cayle instinctively stopping as well. Nick took a few steps, stopped, and turned.
"Nick, you know you have to go." They were words Vash wish he didn't have to say. But the tired Priest only nodded, looked at his feet, and nodded again. He started toward the house, alone, and the two men in red watched him go.
"Cayle," Vash turned to his son. "You know I created you from Knives." The comment came so far out of left field that Cayle stuttered for a moment. It had been a long time since they had talked about his origins. "Yes, father. Knives died, and you used a part of you pair with what was left of him, and created me." The words were regurgitated nearly verbatim from what Vas had told the boy.
"That's right," Vash looked to watch Nick dissapear inside the house. "I wanted to be sure that you could do what you had to. I knew, somehow I knew that this day would come." The faraway look in Vash's eyes told the boy that his father perhaps really had known. It was a look of youthfulness that looked out of place these days on a face that hadn't smiled in a long time. Not before yesterday. "I want you to go with him, but don't tell him. Follow him, help him if he needs it. He is an extraordinary man, but he is one man. He will need your eyes."
"Father, I couldn't just leave you here to - " Vash held up a hand.
"I will be fine. I'm in no danger here. No more arguments. Go inside through the back door and get some things together. You leave tonight." Cayle was afraid. He'd never been out wandering before, let alone with a mission. He searched his father's face for something, anything that he could use, he had to change his father's mind. But no, the face looking back at him was resolute, determined.
The second member of the crowd departed without saying a word.
Vash stood for minutes that seemed to stretch into hours, staring at the suns. Eventually he reached into one of his coat pockets and donned a pair of yellow-tinted sunglasses. He smiled as memories raced through his head like scattered sunbeams. The memories threatened to overwhelm him in a rush of nostalgia, but they were quelled when Nick emerged from the house. He truly looked like divine intervention made manifest.
He had slipped on a clean suit, sunglasses, and all the other trimmings. Perhaps most imposing, though, were the two man-sized crosses he had slung over his shoulders. To anyone who had never heard of the legends, he was a crazed bible-thumper taking things too seriously. To those in the know, he was a holy demon.
Nick stopped in front of his old friend. "Its going to be a long walk." He half-smiled. He hated goodbyes. Especially this one, with the only person left that he knew.
"Not as long as you think." Vash nodded past Wolfwood, and the Priest turned to look, briefly forgetting that he was lugging the two crosses, and hitting Vash squarely in the head with one. The ensuing *thud* was not enough to make the Priest pull his eyes away from the sight before him. Cayle was wheeling around a motorcycle. A blue one.
"Where did you..?" Nick turned, but Vash was still sprawled on the ground. After a moment of hauling him to his feet and re-arranging the crosses, Nick asked his question again. "Where did you get that?"
"You left it in the city," Vash was nursing a large lump on the side of his temple that seemed to throb incessantly.
Nick grinned and met Cayle half-way. It seemed so automatic the way he strapped the crosses to the side and straddled the bike. A hells-angel and grinning like the devil. Even Vash smiled. Nick looked out over the horizon and sighed, slipping off the bike and walking back to where Cayle had now joined his father.
"I guess this is goodbye, again." Nick sniffed and slid his hands into his jacket pockets.
"It is, but only for a while. I expect you to be back here when your," Vash thought a moment, "quest is over. Or when you need a break." He cracked a smile that was contagious. They embraced again and separated.
"Cayle, it was a pleasure. Thanks for finding me," Cayle smiled and he and the Priest shook hands. Nick looked at them both once more and turned, before his emotions betrayed him. Starting now, he didn't have the luxury of tender emotions. He got two steps before Vash stopped him.
"Nick." The Priest turned just in time to reflexively catch a large red coat being thrown at him. Nick looked down at the garment, confused. "For luck," Vash smiled hugely and gave him a thumbs up.
Confidence rushed into the Priest like a firestorm. He grinned and slung the coat around his shoulders, leaving it hanging open on his chest. After a moment of checking his equipment, saddlebags, and gas, Nick swept onto the bike, kicked up the stand, and sped off toward the still-rising suns. Wind whipped through his hair and sand stung his face. But he didn't care, and he didn't look back.
"You leave tonight," Vash reiterated, and Cayle only nodded. They watched as the Priest sped off, leaving a snakelike trail of dust in his wake. Vash shook his head and chuckled under his breath. After a few more moments, the trail had faded and Wolfwood was nothing but a spec on the horizon. Cayle moved off to get his things together and give his father a moment alone.
Vash thought about many things in those moments, but he couldn't think of anything that mattered more than his last, unspoken words to the Priest, "Good luck."
