Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Epidemic ❯ A Gentle Reprieve ( Chapter 9 )

~*Chapter Eight - A Gentle Reprieve*~

It's amazing…how much the mind wanders in silence. How much a person will think about when in the company of no one but themselves and the long stretch of road ahead of them. It's almost stifling, the way the stillness, the endless desert, and the complete isolation presses in against you…

I just wish I understood everything that was going on…I had hoped that upon arriving at May city, a bit of light might be shed on this mystery. Much to my dismay, things have only gotten more complicated since we left May City…at first, we'd only been dealing with a disease…and now demons? And Wolfwood…Nicholas…

Sometimes I find it hard to believe that he's here with me. He seemed like such a distant memory only days ago when we arrived in that bleak, dead city…It seemed an impossible dream that he was standing there, but it was a moment I'll never forget. Leave it to him to greet me by screaming at me and calling me names. Typical…I could ask no less of him. If it wasn't for him…I don't know if I would have been able to make it through Millie and Meryl's passing. He's taken it hard as well; I can see it in the way he carries himself…His inability to heal the girls of their illness has continued to taunt him; before we arrived at that fateful little bar, he would periodically lapse into a brooding silence, and I could read his confusion in those dimly illuminated cobalt eyes.

I'm not sure which is more painful…the fact that he is no longer living, or the fact that he's returned to my side only to be taken away once he's finished here…But he's right. We need to make the most of the time we've been given.

Midvalley, however, made sure to see that our time was cut ruthlessly…I don't know completely why he was there besides to lead those demons, but I do understand that he and those…things…were trying to kill Nick…The evidence rests in the backseat, where I have him laid out, bandaged and cleaned…

He looked horrible. No one should be brutalized like that; his wounds ran deep. So much blood; I thought he was going to leave me for sure. I suppose it was by the grace of God that he survived…but I wonder…

If he's an angel, then why was he able to be injured? I already heard that angels were great, mighty beings, impervious to conventional weapons, immortal.

But then again, demons aren't conventional weapons.

And while these creatures continue to ransack and fly in the face of all that is natural, this epidemic continued to ravage the planet from seemingly no source. If it were spread by air, it would have taken out far more people by now…it would have reached December by the time I'd left for May. Millie and Meryl…they would have died far sooner than they did. It obviously can't be spread by water; there's not enough on this planet for that to work. If it's contracted through human contact, that's plausible, but not many people travel between cities; not enough to explain how fast the disease spread.

I just don't understand…all this senseless death and violence; it makes no sense to me.

But there I go, letting my mind wander aimlessly again…It's too quiet for my tastes. I'd give anything to have Wolfwood be sitting up here and crack a bad joke, tease me a little, I'd even let him call me Tongari! Anything to break the monotony. Even a snore would be nice, but I don't think I'm going to get even that for my troubles.

All I can do is sit it out and wait for him to wake up and heal on his own. I hope that none of those things find us out here before he's well again…I can't combat those creatures on my own.

Evening's coming up now, so I guess I have to make camp for the night. It's only a few more days until we'll arrive on the edge of New Oregon, which will have most likely suffered the same fate as May and Inepriel, and both he and I need to be in the best of shape, or at least, as close as possible.

~*~

The dusty, road worn jeep slowly came to a stop as the binary suns began to set over the horizon, casting long purple shadows across the rocky sand. Vash the Stampede sighed as he put the vehicle out of gear and opened the door to stand. He looked towards the east, the direction that they'd came from, narrowing his eyes, as though trying to see if they were being followed. He'd been driving away from that little spot in the road for the past two days, trying to put as much distance between them and those demons as possible. He'd been stopping every night to tend to Wolfwood and make sure that he was at least starting to heal, which, thankfully, he was. Vash marveled at how quickly the angel was healing, especially when considering how heinous his wounds where.

Once he was satisfied that they were safe, he stepped underneath the lengthening shadows of the large outcropping of rock overhead and over to the other side of the car, where Wolfwood's head was laid. Gently, the outlaw reached over and checked the bandages that were once again stained with blood, though he couldn't deny that there was a considerably less amount marring them.

Sighing, he realized that they were fresh out of bandages, so he begrudgingly left the dirty ones wrapped around the priest's torso and arms and sighed, pulling his gloved hands back slightly. He looked down at the angel's scratched, strangely serene face with pained viridian eyes and reached down, brushing several wayward raven strands from his face as though he were trying to get a better view of the man's face.

"Oh, Nick," Vash murmured faintly, and shook his head. "What a pair we make…" he continued gently, his fingers gracing along the contours of Wolfwood's rugged face and over numerous cuts and small, superficial wounds. His viridian eyes softened as his fingers paused, and he rested his leather-concealed palm against his jawline and leaned down, kissing his unmarred forehead with the slightest of touches.

There was a soft movement against his lips as Vash chastely kissed the prone angel, and he raised his head slightly, turning his eyes down to gaze at the whole of Wolfwood's face. His dark eyebrows were furrowed slightly, and he had indeed moved a bit, but he continued to sleep. Vash sighed, a bit disappointed, and stood completely up, letting his hand linger against his scratched face for a moment before he drew back and leaned against the side of the jeep, his shoulders slumping slightly. He bowed his head as a chilly night wind blew against him, sending grains of sand past him and brushed his hair away from his forlorn face. He couldn't help it, but he was beginning to feel a very real sense of loneliness. He'd not been able to talk to Wolfwood properly ever since that rather saddening and rudely interrupted conversation back at the bar…and he desperately wanted to continue. He'd been denied this for far too long to have it taken away again…

Before his death…when he and Wolfwood had first begun to travel together, there had never been any time nor a reason to truly talk about things like this…and once Vash had realized that he finally did have a reason, he'd ran out of time…

Eventually, the outlaw dozed off into slumber, his head hanging slightly to the side and his shoulders slightly hunched over. It appeared to be a rather uncomfortable position, because though Vash was clearly sleeping, his face was contorted in slight discomfort and pain, and he kept moving his neck a bit in his sleep. His troubled dreams didn't help his comfort either…he saw himself on a bleak, black landscape, with tiers of rocks far in the distance. A lonely wind howled in his ears, and a familiar, horrible laugh rang in his ears through the wind. He kept seeing images of grotesque abominations of nature, flying out across the deserts while clinging to torn, mutilated bodies in their gruesome talons. He heard their screeches in his ears, accompanied by horrible screams and the sounds of a saxophone wailing in the distance. He saw Millie and Meryl, calling to him from the grave. Their faces were grey and worn, their eyes dulled, and blood was smeared across their sickly faces. But try as he might, he couldn't reach them…not in time to save them…He could never save them…

"Vash!" he heard Wolfwood cry, and he turned to see the angel, broken and battered, fighting a losing battle against the vile creatures. "Vash! Please!" Blood flew as the demons assaulted the priest, and the sounds of his pained cries filled the outlaw's ears as he watched Nicholas stumble back and fall, broken feathers and blood following his deadly descent as the creatures fell upon him. His dark eyes dulled, and with a triumphant screech, the hellions fell in for the final kill.

"No!" Vash screamed as he felt a pair of hands wrap around his arms, and though he tried to lunge forward, he found himself held fast. Tears began to fall down his face, and he clawed at those captive hands, his shouting echoing far into the night.

"Vash! Please! Just wake up!" came Wolfwood's voice again, and Vash suddenly jerked sharply as those strong hands began to shake him. He bit his tongue in his surprise, and he gasped as his eyes flashed open and the darkness of the moonlit night met his blurry vision. His chest was heaving with labored breath, and tears were streaming freely down his face and soaking the tall collar of his coat.

"Vash…it was just a nightmare…" came the priest's voice again, this time not so forceful, and Vash gasped again and turned to face the owner of those strong hands.

"You were screaming something terrible…" Wolfwood said gently, his hands still holding Vash's in a concerned, vice-like grip. The angel's pale, scratched face was laced with concern, and though he looked clearly tired, his worry overrode any other emotion. Distraught jade met concerned cobalt for a long moment, and with a sudden sob, Vash felt his knees buckle slightly and he pitched forward a bit, throwing his arms around Nicholas' neck. He buried his face into the priest's neck, weeping bitterly though quietly, and for a long moment, nothing was said.

Slightly bewildered as he felt hot tears against his skin, Wolfwood looked along the slight curve of Vash's back as he felt the vibrations of the outlaw's weeping against him, and closed his eyes, leaning his head against Vash's and gently putting his arms around him.

"Shh…it's alright…"

"No…it was horrible," Vash affirmed quietly as he struggled to regain a bit of control. He pulled away slightly from Wolfwood's arms as he heard the door open, and watched with a bit of pained concern as the angel started to sit up and scoot over. He couldn't deny the fact that Nicholas was in pain with even the slightest of movements, but when the priest looked up at him and bade him to sit down beside him, he couldn't refuse, and sank into the seat beside him. Those warm arms wrapped around him again, comforting him, pulling him gently against him, and Vash shivered against the touch, slowly dying sobs still shaking him. "I can't lose you, Nicholas…not again…not so vainly…" Slowly, the outlaw looked up, his handsome hand streaked with dust and tears, his bright viridian eyes shining dully in the angel's soft light. He looked at Wolfwood guiltily, sadly, and yet with a sense of unquenchable awe and thankfulness.

"When I found you at the altar of that church…so pale, so without that spark of life that had personified you in my mind for so long…when the stench of blood and needless sacrifice filled my nose…" Vash hesitated as a soft, dying sob rose in his throat, "…I'd only felt such deep, distraught despair once before…I felt so powerless. I couldn't save Caine…and I couldn't save you. The man who had walked into my life and saw me for who I really was, and yet didn't judge…who had given me his friendship, and more importantly, his trust..." he paused, looking down a bit as he recalled those few dark moments. "The man who had willingly given his life to save his children…and me. And I had let you die there, instead of following you when I realized you were injured…" He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. "I let you die when I know I could have healed you…"

"But you didn't," Wolfwood said finally, but not with any trace of malice. He reached down and cupped Vash's face gently with his palm, bringing his eyes back up to meet his own. "You knew you couldn't…If you had, Knives would have just found another way to kill me before you reached him. He wanted you to suffer so much that you would realize that mankind was a heartless, inferior race that weren't worthy to breathe the same air as you two…who weren't worthy to live." The priest looked at Vash softly for a moment, a bit of his own guilt wavering in his eyes. "And I had willingly bought into that scheme. I had been willing to crush your heart and your spirit…that beautiful, selfless soul…all for blood money. But…if I had refused…the church would have been destroyed…and I would have been alone. I wouldn't have found you, and would have died an unchanged, unredeemed man, bitter and clinging to the blood on my hands, thinking that there was no other way... " He brushed a few tears from Vash's drawn face, his bruised fingers passing over his dusty face with unbidden grace and care, and smiled. "For you, I thank God every day…"

There was a moment of pure silence after this simple yet weighty statement, and even the wind took a pause from its whispering, as if to let the angel and the outlaw share one true moment of privacy. A moment away from the bloodshed, away from the death and darkness that the world around them had crumbled into. A few silent seconds to themselves, without the smell of dust and gunpowder, without the memories of friends long lost and enemies raised again. Vash closed his eyes for a moment, a few more warm tears falling down his dusty cheeks and touching Wolfwood's fingers. He didn't want to have to give Nicholas up again…he knew that he was being selfish, but so much had been taken away from him already…so much loss in his life; he didn't want to be stripped of this last thread of happiness; this Godsend.

"…Vash…" came his name, gentle and quiet, and Vash slowly looked up into dimly illuminated cobalt eyes. There was an undeniable trace of sadness in those eyes, mixed with many other things that the priest would never have given words to. Guilt, love, fear…even hints of confusion hung in that deep blue sea…for a moment, Vash knew what Wolfwood must have felt when he first saw past his own happy façade.

The outlaw took a breath; he knew that words for emotional encounters such as this did not come easily to the priest, so he simply smiled at the lack of more words, understanding well what it was that Wolfwood had been trying to convey. He shook his head slightly, a light stream of tears still slipping down his sandy cheeks, and gently moved towards the angel, softly pressing his palms against Nicholas' cheeks.

Wolfwood closed his eyes a bit as he let the outlaw touch him, tilting his head to the side and into Vash's hands. He never wanted to leave this, and the knowledge that he would have to eventually, possibly even very soon, struck him painfully. Then, truly, Vash would be alone. Alone on this barren, bleak desert planet with nothing but a bounty and his scars to keep him company. And he, Wolfwood, would be in Paradise…but was it truly utopia?

'In Eden…I would live him…and the girls…'

Yes, the girls would be there with him...but there would be no Vash once he left this planet, his mission complete. Both he and Vash would lose in the end…Perhaps it would have been better if he'd not been the one sent on this mission…then Vash would not have this added pain…this extra loss…Silently, he reached his arms around the quietly distraught man and furrowed his brow gently as he pulled Vash against him and rested his head against his shoulder. He could feel Vash breathing in a softly erratic fashion, still weeping from the metaphoric truth of his nightmare, and cursed at Fate and her irony. How could so many horrible, unhappy things happen to such a kind, gentle soul? He was tired of that hollow smile and those empty eyes…

'Heaven…is no longer…and never was…my Paradise…' he thought as he felt Vash grasp at his suit jacket with trembling fingers. 'Paradise is his truly blissful smile…away from all this damned depression…I want this. Nothing more than this…Is that too much to ask for?'

There was a faint movement, and suddenly, Wolfwood found himself gazing into damp, emotional green eyes once more, and he felt as though Vash were staring into the very depths of his soul…so vulnerable, and yet, he returned the intense gaze with equal conviction.

"All of this could end tomorrow, Wolfwood," Vash said softly. "We could figure this all out, and you will be gone. There may not be another night for us to sit here together…or drown in our sorrow…and I'm not willing to let opportunity pass by me like I did before…"

His voice was firm yet faint, trembling from his previous crying, and as he fell silent, he swallowed, and began to lean forward, closing his eyes as another tear ran down his face. He knew the time left they had together like this was precious and limited, and he was not about to let it slip out of his grasp like he had before…

Their lips touched gently but strongly, caressing against each other with a reverence and grace that seemed almost out of place with their surroundings. As Vash tilted his head slightly to the side and ran a hand lightly up the priest's arm, the breeze that had been blowing against them cast strands of Wolfwood's raven hair free and against his face, tickling his nose and kissing his face with their light touch. He furrowed his brow a little as Nicholas' hand gently came to rest against his neck below his jawline. His fingers were slightly rough and calloused, but far from abrasive as they tenderly stroked the skin and traced along the outlaw's jaw reverently. He'd never known the priest to hold such tender grace before…he'd always came off as rough and sardonic…It only went to further prove that the somewhat enigmatic man had many facets.

Sighing softly against Wolfwood's lips, Vash tasted salt tears on his tongue as he parted his lips gently and followed the angel in suit. He was not the only one to shed tears tonight…and though Nicholas had never actually said that he loved him, the presence of those tears was enough to voice those words silently. Vash marveled, not unemotionally, at how such emotion had followed the priest even beyond the grave…He wanted to make love to this man; this renegade priest; this unconventional angel who had refused to give into the darkness forced upon him by his brother for the children of December…and for him. Who willingly died for him…

Slowly, the gunslinger brought a crimson clad arm up and around Wolfwood's shoulders, running his fingers up through the dark hair at the base of his neck, and pressed his parted lips up against his lover's, pulling him carefully down as he minded the healing wounds.

Never mind the wind, the sand, the sadness…this could very well be their last night alone without bloodshed and demons. This was a precious commodity…something they could not frivolously waste.

Wolfwood brought his hand from Vash's jawline and around to the back of his head as he felt the outlaw draw him down, and though he couldn't deny the cramped conditions of the jeep, right now, all that mattered was the man beneath him…Never mind the demons and the blood; his duties could wait…

But…

But if he did make love to Vash tonight…what would happen tomorrow? If this had been before his death, he would have had no reservations; all he would have needed to know was that Vash loved him and vice versa. That would have been all that mattered, and he really wouldn't have minded giving Knives and the Gung Ho Guns the proverbial finger for his love. He would have found a way to protect the children and Vash…

But now, this was not the case. He was no longer a human, able to give in so easily to such worldly desires. He was shackled by these wings…Angels were forbidden to be with others like this…It was severe taboo… and though he wanted this, he knew that…if he and Vash were to make love, then all might very well be lost…Would his angelic powers be stripped? Would he be forever damned? A fallen angel, unable to help Vash or complete the mission that he'd been sent back to this planet for? He didn't know…and as much as he hated to, he didn't want to take that chance.

"No…" he said softly as he pulled back from Vash's lips, and closed his eyes, looking both ashamed and saddened. "I'm sorry, Vash…but I can't do this…As much as I want to, I can't." He could see the pained confusion in Vash's eyes, and cursed again these wings…this divine light within him. "I shouldn't even have kissed you…You see, angels…we're not allowed to do such things…I'm not sure why…but we aren't…. It's…like, taboo, you might say…"

As Wolfwood explained why he could not make love to him, Vash could see the quarrel raging in his cobalt eyes, and sighed sadly. Even now, they weren't free…everything the two of them did was always wrong under someone's eye…

"It's alright…Nicholas," he said gently as he sat up, and brushed a few dark strands from the priest's conflicted eyes. "You can't help what you are…and I won't force the matter…just…" he paused, and smiled a bit. "Just as long as you're still here with me…That's enough…"

Wolfwood tried to smile, but failed, and sighed. "Come on…we should be going…we can't stay in one place for too long; we might be being followed, and we don't want those demons or any other…old friends…catching up with us…"

Vash nodded in understanding, and was about to get into the driver's seat after standing when he felt a strong hand on his shoulder. Gently, Wolfwood moved him aside and shook his head.

"You sleep…I don't need to," he murmured, and promptly got in. "I fixed the seatbelt on your side the night before we got to that bar, so you don't have to worry about that anymore."

Vash smiled a bit, still somewhat stalled in sullen silence as he took his place and buckled up, and after the engine came to life again at the priest's urgings, he sank back into a faintly slouching position and began to drift into sleep, his head tilting over to the side and resting faintly on Wolfwood's shoulder. The wind brushed his flaxen hair against his face, finally at peace and no longer filled with woe and troubles, and though Nicholas hated the fact that he had been forced to deny him, he couldn't help but smile. At least he was free of nightmares now…

~*~

I don't understand why he fell in love with me in the first place. I was his enemy for so long…even though he didn't know it, I was going to turn him in to his ruthless brother. That was my original purpose for following the crazy bastard around…Money for the children. I honestly had no idea what I was getting myself into when I took the job; all I knew of Vash when I inadvertently met him on the way to Jenenora Rock was that he was a city-destroying, ruthless man with sixty billion double dollars on his head. But when my trip was interrupted by a broken motorcycle and I was saved by this donut-loving goof of a man with such hollow eyes…A part of me realized that this wasn't the man I was sent to shepherd, and yet he was. Damn my luck. Part of me wished that he really had been that merciless gunslinger; then at least my job would have been made easy. At least, relatively speaking.

But him and his ideals…those silly pacifistic dreams that he kept preaching to me…For God's sake, I thought I was the preacher around here! I can't count how many times he spat my own religion back at me. 'Thou shalt not kill! What the Hell kind of churchman are you??' being his favorite quip…If he were anything like his brother, he would have laughed in satisfaction at changing the priest turned mercenary into another idealistic crusader. But of course, Vash didn't have any idea…He was so unassuming; I wonder if he ever realized just how I knew that Knives was in Dhimitri…

I don't deserve his love. On the day before I died, I tried to kill him…I really did try…but his idyllic logic won me over, just as it had done so many times before…He really is pretty good at pissing me off, but…

I still don't understand why he fell in love with me. We led lives that were far too different; I even told him that…but that didn't deter him either…

I don't know why he loves me…but I consider myself lucky…even if I can only experience this love for a short time…a brief taste of what might have been…

~*~

"My God…Vash…Vash, wake up…" came Wolfwood's voice through the haze of sleep, and after a few moments of coaxing, Vash slowly opened his eyes and rubbed them against his sleeve, yawning a bit. Dawn was upon them; the binary suns were rising over the horizon and cast pink light over the rocky desert, but Vash noticed something rather odd about then.

"Why aren't we going anywhere?" he asked as he looked quizzically at Wolfwood. The engine was still running, but the priest had brought them to a full stop near a ridge that overlooked the city of New Oregon.

"The city, Vash. Look at the city."

Confused, Vash turned his head in compliance and gazed down into New Oregon, and suddenly realized why the angel seemed so aghast.

"How…but…how…"

The sounds of voices and the laughter of people heading off to work for the morning filtered up to their ears, as did the sound of braying thomases and various vehicles. Lights were slowly coming on inside shops and houses all throughout the city, and near the West end of the town, looming over the buildings, was the plant. Vash frowned at this; the plant didn't seem to be running, as though it was down, and there was no traces of demons or sickness or any sort.

"I don't understand…how can they be surviving? They haven't been hit by the demons or disease…and their plant is down…I don't…"

"Let's go, Vash. We won't find any answers to those questions unless we get to town…"

~*~

Author's Notes:

RAR! I'm so freaking glad that chapter's over…it gave me Hell. My muses decided to go on vacation right before school let out, so the plans to complete this chapter before school was over went out the window. -_-;;

But anyway, here you go! Don't know about the next chapter, but…the next chapter is the beginning of the end. The last two generals and part of the mystery solved.