Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Purgatory ❯ Purgatory Chapter 3 ( Chapter 3 )

“Why don’t you relax while I make us some food?” Milly said after they had walked in the small foyer. “The sofa is over there, and the remote is on the coffee table if you want to watch TV.” So saying, she headed into her little kitchen. Wolfwood started to follow her but then decided the prudent thing to do would be to avoid her and thus avoid conversation. He couldn’t do it forever, but he thought postponing the inevitable wasn’t a bad idea. Dinner sounded good.

Sinking into the comfy sofa, he looked around the place. It was definitely small and modest but what some people would call “cozy,” he thought. He wanted to get up to look around, get some clue about this kind-hearted woman who seemed so strong yet frail at the same time. Unfortunately, his legs had other ideas, and he found he couldn’t find the energy to move now that he was settled into the thick cushions.

In the kitchen, Milly whirled around looking for something quick and easy to make for the two of them, still mentally berating herself for bringing him home, and hoping she wouldn’t regret it. Spaghetti is easy. “Nicholas, do you like pasta?” she called into the living room.

“My favorite,” Wolfwood called back, then decided to hell with avoidance, and got off the couch and joined Milly in the kitchen. He had managed to keep his past a secret from Vash and the girls for a long time, surely he could dodge a few standard questions from a tired businesswoman. “Anything I can help you with?”

“Sure,” Milly replied, handing him a can of tomato paste. “Spice rack is over there. Dump this into a pot and go nuts.”

Wolfwood obliged, unsure of exactly what some of the ingredients were, but figured that more is better. Taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves, he added dashes and bits of anything that smelled good to the sauce. To thwart any inquiries, he asked Milly a steady stream of questions about her home, job, background, and didn’t leave any time for her own queries. Years in his profession made you good at manipulation, and Wolfwood relaxed as he realized this woman was no threat to him or his secrets. He also noticed in the bright lights of the kitchen that she was even more pretty than he had thought in the dim illumination of the streetlamps. Distracted, he didn’t listen to half of the words she was saying as he shook spices and stirred the sauce.

Fifteen minutes later, they sat down to steaming bowls of spaghetti. Milly almost choked on her first taste of the food, but managed to swallow it. Wolfwood did the same, realizing with embarrassment that he had ruined the pasta with his random and preoccupied seasoning. He started laughing, and Milly joined in. “Well, I’m starving,” he said, “so I’ll be eating this anyway!”

“No you don‘t,” said Milly, swiping his bowl away mid-bite, “that’s OK, I’ve got some other stuff we can eat.” She took the bowls and tossed their contents into the trash. Going to the fridge, she found some vanilla pudding and frozen pizza. Throwing the pizza in the microwave, she dished out the pudding. A dusty bottle of French merlot, and they enjoyed a bizarre feast that reminded Milly of her college days. She nuked a bag of buttered popcorn for dessert, and they sat contentedly munching in silence and sipping their wine.

“Nicholas,” Milly started after the popcorn was gone, “Why did you become a priest?”

“Hmm, that’s a hell of a good question,” Wolfwood said, lighting a cigarette. Milly couldn’t bear to ask him to put it out although she never let people smoke in the house. She gritted her teeth and smiled instead.

“I’m an orphan. The man who took me in when I had no one else was a priest, of sorts. He taught me how to rely on myself, how to be independent. I guess you could say he made me what I am today,” Wolfwood continued dryly. “I thought if I followed his footsteps, I could help other children avoid what I had been through. So I entered the order and started an orphanage.”

“Where is the orphanage?”

Without thinking, he replied, “A few iles from December.”

“December? Is that in California?” asked Milly, noting the weird accent he placed on the word “miles”.

“Um,” Wolfwood paused. Did he really want to tell her the truth? No, but he didn’t want to reward her kindness with a lie either. But December was a big city--one of the biggest. How could she not have heard of it? “Have you never been to December?” deciding to answer the question with a question.

“No…” Milly didn’t know why but she sensed Nicholas was avoiding the question. She searched for a way to probe further and came up empty. “What are you doing out this way?” She glanced at the clock and noticed it was almost 2 AM.

Wolfwood saw the glance and decided he should probably make his exit. A girl like this one wasn’t going to offer her couch to a stranger for the night, and he thought after her ordeal the last thing she would want was a man hanging around. Getting up from the table, he stretched lazily, oblivious to Milly’s wide eyes taking in his strong chest straining against his shirt. “I’ve really enjoyed this, Milly, and I truly appreciate your kindness,” he said, relaxing his arms back down. “But I think I’ve kept you from your rest long enough.”

Milly felt a little stab of panic at him leaving, not noticing that he had not answered her question. Somehow the night didn’t feel over to her. She wanted him to stay but knew it was a ridiculous thought. Helpless, she said, “Let me just grab my keys…”

“No, I can walk from here,” Wolfwood answered, “it’s not far,” not knowing exactly why he was lying, but unable to stop himself.

Milly was disappointed, but a realist. She couldn’t exactly ask a stranger to spend the night, even if he was a priest. “It might not be safe…” she began.

“I’ll be fine,” Wolfwood said, and for a minute Milly heard that hard and tough tone in his voice again. It scared her--she had forgotten how threatening he had sounded when confronting the gang earlier and something in those three words made her not so sad he was leaving.

Shrugging into his jacket, Wolfwood walked over to the door, picking up his Punisher and slinging it over his shoulder. Milly had followed him to the door and reluctantly opened it, feeling confused and unhappy, but unsure why.

Pausing on the threshold, Wolfwood turned around looked into Milly’s eyes. In this light, he could see them. Hazel, just like hers. There were so many similarities. She was beautiful--strong like his Milly and a little silly like his Milly. He automatically shut off that thought because he was afraid of where it would lead. He held her gaze for a moment and was surprised to see his own loneliness and confusion reflected there. Unable to fathom what it meant, what she wanted from him, he said softly, “You remind me of someone very special to me…” and before she could respond, he quickly and gently pressed his lips to her forehead and shut the door.