Takes place just after episode 10, Quick Draw and towards the end of episode 11, Escape from Pain.
Turquoise eyes stared at the ceiling, unseeingly. Wolfwood...
After the priest had returned to his own room, Vash had stood for some time in the small bathroom. Staring at what he could see of himself in the tiny, cracked mirror.
So ugly... How could anyone bear to touch this? He ran a hand down his chest, following the path the priest's hands had taken, remembering how good it had felt.
Why? Why did he do that? Why does he want me?
It was quite obvious that Wolfwood did. The rough affection he'd shown when they first met had changed to something far gentler in such a short space of time. And Vash was very aware of the tension in the priest's body whenever they were together.
It would be so easy to give in. He liked Wolfwood. Much more than just liked, if he were to be completely honest with himself. And he had been so very lonely for so very long...
Hands gripping the edge of the washbasin, he gritted his teeth, head lowered.
I can't.
Why not?
Because I'm a monster. Because whenever I do anything, people die. Because almost everyone I've ever loved, ever felt anything for, has died. And because it's not fair to him.
He couldn't bear the thought of Wolfwood being hurt. And if the priest died, who would care for the children?
Yet he wanted... what? Wolfwood's arms around him. He touched his forehead, his neck, remembering the sensation of the priest's lips against his skin, and groaned, imagining that mouth against his own, those strong, capable hands on his body...
Stop it! Stop torturing yourself!
Almost sobbing, he dragged himself to bed. And lay, sleepless and aching, until dawn.
It was still early - Wolfwood probably wasn't awake yet. But, promised box of doughnuts under one arm, Vash tried the doorhandle anyway.
It turned. Frowning, he paused for a moment, stretching his senses, but Wolfwood was the only occupant of the room. A Wolfwood who'd heard the doorhandle turn, and, from the slight rustling he could hear, was reaching for a gun. Just in case.
Vash opened the door just far enough to be able to hold the box in plain view, waited a second, listening to Wolfwood slide the gun under his pillow, then cautiously poked his head into the room.
"Is it safe to come in?"
"Sure."
The gunman lay the box on the table and turned towards the bed. Wolfwood lay, relaxed, his hands behind his head on the pillow, sheet down to his waist.
Vash gazed at him, swallowing hard. He slept naked - the thin, translucent sheet made that obvious. And he was so beautiful! Tanned, muscular, smooth - unscarred. Vash wanted to touch that brown skin, feel its texture under his fingers, tease those nipples to see how sensitive they were...
Wolfwood smiled and reached for a cigarette, nonchalantly, to disguise his relief. Vash really had no idea how expressive his face could be: the priest had been worried that perhaps the gunman didn't find him attractive, or simply wasn't interested, despite his earlier reactions. After all, he was a renowned woman-chaser. Although he'd never actually caught any, as far as Wolfwood was aware...
But he gazed down at the priest, yearningly, desire in his eyes. And Wolfwood took his hand, pulling him down to sit on the edge of the bed.
"You look tired."
Vash dragged his eyes away from Wolfwood's body and smiled into his face.
"So do you!"
The priest shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."
"Me neither."
There was a slightly awkward silence for a few seconds, then, simultaneously - "I'll make coffee."
Vash chuckled nervously; Wolfwood grinned.
"OK - you make coffee, I'll get dressed." Without giving the gunman time to protest, he flung back the sheet, stood upright, and sauntered into the bathroom. Fully aware of Vash's furious blush almost burning into his backside as he did so. He smirked at himself in the mirror as he heard the sounds of coffee being rather clumsily prepared.
Wolfwood, that was really low. You can be such a bitch at times...
Minutes later, dressed and acting as though nothing had happened, he breathed in the bitter aroma of his coffee, sighing deeply.
"Mmm - that's good."
Vash wordlessly offered him a doughnut, and he shook his head.
"You need 'em more than me. Hey, did you hear the December-bound caravan's passing through, day after tomorrow."
"I didn't know that."
"Thought about joining it. I think I've done all I can, here."
Vash nodded. "And I ought to move on, anyway. They know me here, now."
"Wanna travel together?"
Vash smiled, almost shyly. "I'd like that." His face fell slightly. "Uh, the insurance girls will be there too, though."
"No problem."
It was a problem, however. Not to mention really annoying. It seemed that every time he turned around one or other of them - though most often Meryl - was hovering nearby. Catching Vash alone was nearly impossible. Wolfwood was crackling with frustration. And Vash seemed distracted...
He'd rented himself a private sleepspace for the journey - expensive but comfortable, and useful when, as now, he simply wanted to be alone to think.
He sat crossed-legged on the narrow bunk, gazing into space, oblivious to the swaying, jolting motion of the big passenger vehicle. Trying to sort out exactly what was happening to him.
He knew that - for whatever reason - Wolfwood wanted him. The priest obviously had no problem with the mess that was Vash's body. Didn't seem the least bit worried by the trouble which seemed to follow him. And Wolfwood was strong. He'd been through a lot - Vash knew he'd not been completely open about his past from the occasional memory flashes he *saw* in the priest's mind. He was also practical, pragmatic and determined. He didn't give up easily - if at all.
But would it be fair, to either of them?
It hurts so much, to see them die...
It had been sixty years before Vash, so desperate for love, had finally accepted that even if his partners survived the harshness of life on this arid dustball, sooner or later they'd die of old age. That nothing human could be permanent for him.
Wolfwood was human.
But -
Wolfwood wanted him.
And himself? He wanted - no, he needed someone here, someone real and alive, to trust, to be able to turn to when the nightmares woke him screaming in the night, when yet another disaster happened that he couldn't forestall. Someone to share life's simple pleasures with. Someone who could accept him for what he was. Someone who...
who...
Loved him?
He sighed. That was too much to ask. But just to have someone there, someone to turn to, someone to hold in the night, even if just for a little while...
Would it really be so wrong?
Eight days into the journey Wolfwood was finally able to share a quiet word with the gunman while Milly and Meryl were saying their farewells to Julius and Moore. Wolfwood had joined Vash at the top of the dune, gazing down at the touching sight below. Vash had smiled, forgivingly, at the insurance girls' backs even as his face stung from Milly's powerful blow.
"She's a good girl. She's really good."
Wolfwood had nodded, recognising the gunman's admiration for the young woman's loyalty, unconditional friendship, and deep, simple love.
"Yes, she is." And you, my friend, are just like her...
Vash glanced at the priest from the corner of his eye, a slight smile on his lips - and made his decision. He turned fully to Wolfwood, laid both hands against his face, and kissed him.
Wolfwood froze in shock, eyes wide, too startled to return the caress: Vash pulled back slightly, his smile fading, fear and doubt suddenly bright in his eyes.
"I'm sorry..."
Wolfwood grinned maniacally, grabbed a fistful of blond hair and yanked the gunman close, almost bruising his mouth with the force of his kiss.
Moments later, panting, they drew apart.
"Uh, Wolfwood..."
"Yeah?"
"Isn't it a bit public here?"
The priest stared for a second, then doubled up in a fit of near-hysterical laughter. Vash watched him for a moment, then started chuckling. Within seconds both men were quaking with mirth...
Five minutes later Wolfwood wiped his streaming eyes and nodded.
"I guess it is at that. C'mon, let's get back to the caravan. I'll come find you in a little while..."
He didn't know what had finally happened to make Vash take the first step, and frankly, right now, he didn't care. His heart light, Wolfwood made his way towards the tiny sleepspace Vash was occupying. Determined to stay with him. Determined to...
*Nicholas D Wolfwood...*
He froze, heart plummeting as that languid, hated mental voice sent a shaft of heat straight to his groin.
What do you want, you bastard?
He clenched his teeth together to stop himself from crying out as what felt like frigid talons tightened around his balls, squeezing hard.
*Now is that any way to say hello?*
What... do you... want, Legato Bluesummers?
*That's better.* The pressure eased, but didn't completely disappear. *The Master wants a report. You're to return here. Now.*
He paled. He couldn't... He couldn't leave, couldn't hurt Vash, not after the gunman had opened up to him, trusted him. Wolfwood tried to reason with the telepath. A hopeless attempt, but nevertheless one he had to make.
But that's a waste of time, and I can't keep an eye on him if I'm not with him, now, can I? Can't I just tell you, and you pass it on to him?
He could almost see Legato's cold, cruel smile as the pressure at his groin increased again.
*Are you arguing with me, Nicholas D Wolfwood?*
The priest lowered his head.
No. I'll be there as soon as I can.
Vash's eyes were desolate. "But..."
Wolfwood cupped his face in warm strong hands.
"I've no choice."
"Will you at least tell me why?"
The priest kissed him gently.
"I can't. I'm sorry. I would if I could."
Tears glistened in the turquoise eyes, but before Vash could say anything further a knock came on the door.
"Vash? Have you seen Mr Wolfwood?"
Wolfwood growled something obscene, then pasted a false smile on his face and opened the door.
"Oh, there you are!" Meryl smiled. "We were just going to have some tea. Milly thought you might like some too."
Wolfwood shook his head, cursing himself for being such a coward but grateful that the insurance girl had unwittingly given him a way to escape. He couldn't bear the hurt in Vash's eyes a moment longer.
"Can't, I'm afraid. I've got things to do. I'll be going now."
Unseen by Meryl, Vash gripped his wrist tightly.
"Will I see you again?"
Wolfwood turned to him, keeping his voice light, hoping Vash would understand what he was trying to say.
"I don't know." But I'll do my damnedest to make sure you do... "And besides, when I look at you I'm reminded of everything I hate about myself." The long-ago theft of my innocence, my ability to trust, the love I should have known, been able to give... He tried to smile, failed dismally. "Y'know, it hurts."
Vash sat alone, the icepack easing the pain in his jaw from Milly's punch. Biting back tears. Wishing he had something to ease the pain around his heart.
Wolfwood...
Iles away, the bike's wheels steadily eating at the distance between himself and the Gung-Ho Guns, Wolfwood frowned unhappily to himself. He still didn't know quite why Knives wanted him to look after Vash, or why he'd felt it necessary to threaten the orphanage. But at least he could report that he'd been successful. So far.
And the gunman had managed to solve yet another problem in his own unique way. How did he do it?
All along I thought there had to be a sacrifice. But there was another answer after all. Vash the Stampede.
Vash was the answer to a lot of things. Only problem was, was Vash himself intended as a sacrifice...?
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