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No Rain	By : blynkin108 Category: +S to Z > Trigun Views: 4334 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
A/N: Okay, folks, here’s the latest installment. As always, sorry for the delay, and I hope you like it. <starts to go away> Oh! If there are any of you aspiring editors out there, and you’ve found something in our fic that isn’t right, PLEASE, by all means, email us and let us know! Jayne and I appreciate feedback in ALL its forms. Constructive criticism, I believe it’s called. We want it. Need it. Crave it, even.
The void in which I usually slept gave birth to a vision of a field. A meadow, actually, with green as far as the eye could see. Green, and blue. Green grass and blue skies. Rem had said once that our eyes reminded her of Home. Earth. And the Garden, which was her pet name for the geo plant on our ship. She loved taking Knives and I for picnics in the Garden, and those were the times I remember being the happiest. Both Knives and I loved those picnics. We’d lie on the grass, under trees, just staring at everything in wonder. Sometimes, Knives would wander off by himself, but I always stayed close to Rem. I think I was afraid that if I didn’t stay nearby, she’d just…disappear. Which is what usually happened in these kinds of dreams. I could never remember them when I woke up, but I always knew what would happen whenever I started having one. Which was why I tried not to dream as a general rule.
This dream looked to be pretty standard torture fare; we were all heading up to the big oak tree on the top of the hill, where we’d have sandwiches, then Rem would get up to chase a butterfly. I’d go after her, and just when I’d catch up, she’d explode into a million glittering fragments. And Knives would laugh.
Just your average, run-of-the-mill nightmare.
But this one felt…different this time. Someone was watching us, I think. I set my picnic basket down under the tree and looked around, then directed my gaze upward, into the wide branches. A messy-haired boy was sitting there, looking down at me with lavender eyes. It was Nick. Even if his mop of hair hadn’t given him away, there was no mistaking that nose. I flashed him a sly smile, and looked back over at Rem.
“Rem? Did you make enough plain peanut butter ones this time?” I’d eat the ones with chunky peanut butter if they were all that was left, but I preferred just plain peanut butter. Unfortunately…
“If your brother doesn’t eat them all,” Rem replied, eyes sparkling. Knives was especially fond of plain peanut butter sandwiches as well. “Knives!” she called out to my wayward twin, who looked up and started back over to us. But he never made it, because my awareness of him, and Rem, faded as soon as I looked back up into the serious eyes of a much younger Nick, and asked, “Are you going to come down?”
He chewed on his lip in indecision, and I smiled at him. Finally, he jumped to the ground, and looked at me. We were exactly the same height, which must have surprised him, because he suddenly looked down at his clothes, and began feeling all over his face. When he got to his nose, he actually pouted, and I giggled. He was so cute! I wanted to ruffle his hair, or pinch his cheeks or something. I settled for tweaking his nose. I guess even in my dreams I thought he needed to loosen up a little. He clapped his hands over his nose and scowled at me, looking mightily offended, and I grinned at him. Then I took off running.
He lost no time in catching up, running after me as I dipped and wove my way around the trees that appeared at random in the meadow. He caught me in a flying tackle, and we went down in a tangle of limbs down a hill. When we finally came to a stop, panting for breath, I was the one on top. It was my dream, after all. Then everything shifted. We were no longer in a meadow, but out on a street, the street outside the restaurant we’d gone to for our ‘date.’ I watched as Nick’s face lost its child-like roundness, growing longer and leaner, and his eyes, always serious, darkened from lavender to the more familiar, wary indigo as they aged a decade and a half in the space of a second.
With the peculiar awareness of a dream, I knew that my own body had altered too. Then came an awareness I was becoming all too familiar with lately. My body liked where it had ended up. Well, this was a dream, after all, so no harm, no foul. I slowly leaned closer, feeling, somehow, that something like this shouldn’t be rushed even in a dream, and kissed him. This was turning out to be a much nicer dream than I was used to, especially when he began kissing me back, winding his arms around my waist and pulling me closer. I threaded my fingers through his hair, one hand sliding down further to brush lightly against the nape of his neck. He shuddered and groaned, pressing even further up against me. My eyes slid briefly closed in pleasure, and then the world shifted again. When I opened my eyes, I was alone, kneeling on the floor of a tunnel. * Crap. It would just figure. Just when this was getting good. *
It was completely dark, and I could hear footsteps echoing ahead of me. I squinted, trying to make out something, anything. But there was nothing, just the steady, measured thud of boot heels about 30 fiels ahead of me. I got to my feet, trying not to make any noise, and started forward, hoping to maybe catch up to whoever it was. The footsteps sped up, as if the person had somehow sensed my approach, going from a brisk walk to something more like a jog. I ran after them, discarding stealth for speed, and then my ears picked up the sound of something behind me. Lots of somethings behind me. My instincts screamed at me, and I ducked as a laser beam arrowed past my head, taking a chunk out of the tunnel wall ahead. The machines had somehow countermanded the orders they’d been given, and were after me and whoever it was up ahead. Unless that person had been the one to give them the order to find me. Which was all moot, considering that they shouldn’t even be able to sense me in the first place…I ducked again as two machines fired off their weapons at the same time, but I hadn’t counted on the third machine that fired a blast right in line with my dodge. It nailed me between the shoulder blades and I fell to the floor of the tunnel, gasping in shock and pain. The machines circled around me, then a space opened between them and a face loomed over my fading vision…
I jerked upright in bed, right hand pressed to my chest to keep the blood inside of a wound that was no longer fresh. My fingers tightened briefly over the grate covering my heart, and I shuddered. God, that had been close. I frowned, a little annoyed at myself for being that careless, even in a dream. I hadn’t had that particular one in a long time; I thought I’d finally beaten it. *This is why I don’t like dreaming. I always end up reliving memories. * Shaking my head, I started to lay back down, when I realized a number of rather unusual things. It was 5:05 am, and I’d overslept, and I was actually contemplating going back to sleep. I was also alone, which was actually usual for me, but…I shouldn’t have been alone, seeing as I hadn’t gone to bed that way. I was also freezing; another unusuality for me as I tended to sleep in a cocoon, but that got pushed to the wayside in the wave of panic brought about by my unusual aloneness. No, none of that makes any real sense, but reason had little to do with my mind in those first few minutes of awareness.
Nick was gone. That was all that mattered.
I scrambled out of bed and ran to the bathroom. No Nick. I cast frantically about the room, searching for a clue, anything to tell me where he might have gone. His ‘weapon’ was still in the corner, like it had been last night, but…one arm of it was unwrapped. Another unusuality; if he unwrapped it at all he took off the whole cover in a dramatic flourish. I saw that one of the pistols was missing, and my fear ebbed a little. He might have just gone out for a pack of cigarettes or something, and took just the one pistol with him. But then I saw it sitting on the table. On this world, going around unarmed was very much akin to going around naked. And I didn’t think Nick was that much of an exhibitionist. So maybe he hadn’t left voluntarily. Strike that, I knew he hadn’t left voluntarily; it was after five o’clock in the morning! I looked around the room again– it was so messy that if a struggle had taken place, I couldn’t tell.
Then my frantic gaze landed on the bed.
There were a series of very deep slashes that looked like they’d gone through the mattress. I crawled under the bed just to double check – and reassure myself that Nick was not under the bed as well and I know I was being stupid but I was not in my right mind and I know that I am not normally considered as being in my right mind but I was being more erratic than usual – and discovered that the gashes did indeed go through the mattress. They’d gone through the springs as well. * Holy shit, what the hell went on while I was out cold? * There were a bunch of feathers scattered under the bed, but that, I attributed to the destruction of the mattress and maybe a gallant pillow that had gotten in the way. One of Nick’s shirts was also under the bed, and that, I simply attributed to his general pig-sty lifestyle. I got back up and took another look at the bed. What could have done this? There was something strange about the pattern, though. Maybe it was the fact that it was a pattern at all, because normally such slashes are clustered close together, in an attempt to reach the target. But these…these were spaced out evenly, with smaller slashes fanning out from two big ones right in the center of the bed.
No blood though, and that was a good thing considering the positioning of those slashes. Yeowch.
Ok, tally: no Nick in bed, no Nick in bathroom, no Nick under bed. No fuckin note. Gun on table, room a friggin mess but that was how it had started out so maybe not so much of a clue? Slashes in bed indicating some sort of struggle. Oh yes, and it’s a little after five o’clock in the morning. Have I said that already?
“So what the fuck happened to him?” I half-yelled in an effort to dispel the fluttery feeling in my stomach. I was torn between being half-out of my mind with worry, and really fucking pissed. My fears might be unfounded, for once in my life, but given my luck it was unlikely. * But if they are unfounded…he’s in for a world of hurt. * My gaze jerked around the room once more, and fell on the window. In a gesture born purely of rising panic I ran over and threw it open, sort of half-flinging myself out of it and craning around to see if roof access was a possibility from this room. Or ground access. I was actually getting ready to climb out the window when the door opened.
I whirled around, hand immediately going for a gun that…wasn’t there. I came to the realization that I was still naked at the same time I registered the fact that it was Nick standing there, breakfast tray in hand. Were those…donuts? * Now is not the time to get distracted! He didn’t even leave a friggin note!!! * Oh yeah.
“Where the fuck have you been?” I yelled, the incredible wave of relief I felt upon knowing that he was all right receding in the wake of my fast-building fury. Now that I knew he was safe, I was free to murder him for making me worry. Nick blinked, looking me up and down, before coming further into the room and setting the tray down on the table. He’d brought coffee too. How sweet.
“A good morning to you too, asshole. Nice gun by the way.” I went a brilliant shade of red – right down to my toes. Visions of violence swam through my head. * Focus, Vash. He’s alive, and unharmed, so contemplating killing him yourself would only be counterproductive. Besides, what happened to love and peace? Think love and peace, Vash, love and peace.* I gave vent to a low growl before attempting to speak in a language he’d understand.
“I woke up alone. What the hell was I supposed to think? No note, no nothing! I thought…I thought that something had happened to you,” My voice softened. “I was gonna go looking for you.” I took the opportunity to do a quick mental scan, which is what I should have done in the first place instead of going off half…well, half-cocked. Nick was about ten kinds of amused about that fact.
“Naked?” He raised an eyebrow, and my blush deepened to a color more appropriate to a bad sunburn.
“A minor detail!” Well, he was obviously all right if he could make sarcastic commentary. Me and my goddamned shields. They were getting me in more and more trouble. If it weren’t for the fact that putting them up upon waking was near-instinctive, this whole mess could have been avoided.
“I wouldn’t call that minor, Needle-noggin.”
“I was worried, dammit. And how many times must I ask you NOT to call me that?” Boy, you’d think after everything the man could at least have the decency to come up with something a little less degrading, but no. “Needle-noggin this, Broomhead that. You don’t see me calling you ‘The Schnozz’ now, do you?” Actually, why hadn’t I ever called him something like that? It was a good question. Nick blinked stupidly.
‘The Schnozz?” He went cross-eyed for a moment, and I realized he was actually trying to look at his nose. “It’s not that big, is it?”
“That’s not the point here. The point is, I am sick and tired of being called Needle-noggin. Or Broomhead. Or ‘that idiot.’ Please, I am begging you,” I briefly debated going down on my knees, but I was still naked, so no, “please don’t call me that anymore.” He stared at me for a few seconds, considering.
“How about…Tongari?” Hmm. It…sounded okay, but I had no idea what the hell it meant. My eyes narrowed.
“That had better not mean ‘shithead’ or something similar.” He laughed.
“No worries there. If I had wanted to call you shithead, I’d just come out and do it.” Not exactly reassuring, was he?
“Then what does it mean?” I asked, putting my hands on my hips. Nick’s eyes went…shit, I don’t know how to describe it, but he got one of the stupidest, sappiest looks on his face and answered in a syrupy voice, “Sweetie-honey-punkin-bear?” * Sweet angry jeezuz. * I stared hard at him for a few seconds, trying not to believe those words had actually come out of his mouth. I mean, this was Nick here. Deciding that there was no way in hell he was being serious, and that the situation called for retaliationary action, I decided to have some fun of my own. In a blur of movement, I ran to the table, swiped the bag of donuts off the tray, and locked myself in the bathroom. And propped myself against the door for good measure. Revenge can be so very sweet. Even though I was still naked. Oh well, I was due for a shower soon anyways.
“Oi! I paid a lot of money for those!” The door rattled in its frame as Nick pounded on it furiously. I popped a donut in my mouth…mmm. So good. I ate three more before replying.
“You shoulda thought of that before you said…whatever the hell that drivel was. Must you always insult me?” In retrospect, he may not have realized that it had been insulting, but then again, this was Nick. I had wanted to know what that word meant, and he had fed me bullshit. Which I had proceeded to spit back in his face. By stealing breakfast. Much more tasty.
“I was trying to be cute. Apparently it didn’t work. Now come on, get out of the bathroom, huh?” I inhaled another donut. Boy, he sure knew how to pick ‘em; not only were these fresh, but they even had a sugar-cinnamon mixture sprinkled all over. * Methinks I’ve found a new favorite kind of donut. *
“Not till you apologize. And tell me what ‘Tongari’ means. Better hurry, though, because I’m really hungry.” He’d only gotten a dozen donuts. Who the hell was he kidding? Even Meryl knew enough to buy large quantities whenever I was around, so that she’d at least have SOME left. I’d been pacing myself trying to keep from simply snarfing down the whole bag, bag and all.
“Ok, fine, I’m sorry.” Oh yes, he sounded incredibly apologetic there. I ate another donut. “And it means…‘spiky.’”
“Spiky? And this is different from Needle-noggin…HOW?”
“Because it’s what my aunt used to call the asparagus.” Asparagus? He was giving me a nickname associated with ASPARAGUS? Boy, he was just battin’ a thousand here. Calling him the Schnozz had been kind in comparison.
“That hole you’re digging is just getting deeper by the minute.” A dramatic pause. “And this bag is getting emptier.” Another donut made its way from the bag to my stomach.
“It was my aunt. It has sen-ti-men-tal value. I’d tell you the story, but you’d eat all the – insert expletive here - donuts.” I sighed.
‘This had better be one hell of a story, because these are really exceptional donuts.” I ate another one.
“Come out of the bathroom, and I’ll tell you. Besides, you’re coffee’s getting cold.” And risk him snatching away my leverage? No dice. For good measure, I ate two donuts at once.
“Coffee’s your thing, Nick, not mine. Besides, I’m still naked, as you so helpfully pointed out earlier.” I was not normally in the habit of parading around in my birthday suit, and not only was I uncomfortable, I was beginning to get cold. The heat from my blush had long since faded.
“Fine,” he said in a pissy tone. “Stay locked in the goddamned bathroom all morning.” *Ooh, three guesses as to what he’s going to do.* There was the sound of a chair scraping against the floor, and…the strike of a match. I sighed. So predictable, my Nick. But who was I to complain, really? We all have our vices. Mine just happened to be a bit less life-threatening. I chewed thoughtfully on another donut. He was always smoking. Not a day went by when he didn’t have one of those foul little white sticks hanging out of his mouth, sending clouds of grayish-white smoke into the surrounding area. And he’d begun drinking heavily, too. He hadn’t been this bad when I’d first met him. I could only imagine what fresh hell he’d been through since then to drive him to 24/7 drunkenness.
The smoke wafted in under the door, and I inadvertently inhaled some of it. It no longer made me feel like hacking up a lung; being around him as much as I had had sort of acclimated me to the peculiar scent, so different from the gun smoke I was used to. I’d begun to associate the scent with Nick himself; it was so much a part of him. Even if he hadn’t had a cigarette in a while - which was a rare thing considering he smoked about a pack a day - if you got really close, the scent of the smoke clung to his clothes, his hair, his breath…I breathed in deeper, remembering the metallic taste of his mouth when he’d kissed me, and desire flared up, sharp, hot, and sudden. I stared down at myself in disbelief. * No way. No fuckin’ way. * To test the theory, I took another deep breath, and shuddered as the sensation intensified. * Dear God… * It seemed the smoke was having a very…interesting effect on me this morning.
+ Something…wrong?+ Nick ‘asked’ hesitantly. Damn, I’d forgotten to tighten my shields again. He must have caught some of my alarm. If it wasn’t me forgetting to take the damned things down, it was me forgetting to put the damned things up. This was becoming tedious.
* Umm, well, its…its just…Christ, do you have to smoke at 5:30 in the morning? * I whined. Nice recovery, if I do say so myself. Can’t let Nick know I had a hard-on because of his stupid cigarettes, after all. The bastard would probably do something like blow smoke into my face aaaaannnd I did NOT want to contemplate the consequences of that right now. Christ.
“Yeeessss, why?” Nick asked, out loud this time. There was a teasing note in his voice. Fuck. “Ummm, nothing. Nothing at all. I am going to take a shower.” A cold shower.
“That wouldn’t happen to be a cold shower, now, would it?” Merde.
“No, not at all,” I said through gritted teeth, as I – awkwardly – got to my feet and turned the shower on. I set the almost empty bag of donuts on the sink, and quickly removed my metal arm. Always remember, kids, electricity and water do not mix. Plus, rust is a real bitch to get rid of once it sets in. I turned the knob on the shower to cold. I HATED being cold, but I could see no other way out of the dilemma, and I’d always heard that cold showers seemed to help with this sort of thing. Wincing, I stepped in and pulled the flimsy curtain shut.
“Well, don’t use all the hot water then,” Nick’s smug reply came floating through the door. The bastard. This was all his fault. To top things off, the cold didn’t help. In fact, it seemed to just make it worse. I was going to hunt down the perpetrator of this heinous myth and lock them in an icebox…once I defrosted myself. Teeth chattering, I turned the dial back to warm, so I could at least wash myself in relative comfort. Relative being the operative word in that phrase, because warm water didn’t really help either.
Well, there was really nothing I could do except hope that it went away. Soon. Well, there was something I could do about it, but that would alert Nick to the fact that he’d been right about…whatever the hell we’d been talking about, and…and…surely just a touch wouldn’t hurt. I could keep quiet. He’d never know. Even though he was standing in the room just on the other side of this door, probably listening to me, and…okay, stop thinking about Nick. Especially stop thinking about Nick listening to me do…that. Now.
“Fuck,” I muttered, gritting my teeth. This was shaping up to be one hell of a morning.
As focused as I was on not focusing on Nick, I missed the sound of the doorknob being fiddled with. With my eyes squeezed shut, trying vainly not to give in to the urge to take care of things myself, I couldn’t see the door slowly opening. However…
“You bastard!” …it was kind of hard to miss hearing Nick bitch about the fact that I’d only left him one donut. But…I’d left the bag on the sink. Which was in the bathroom. Which meant that Nick was IN the bathroom. With me. * Oh, fuck… *
My back hit the wall of the shower, and I slapped my hand to one side, trying to keep from sliding to the floor. The curtain was wrenched aside, and Nick glared at me. Which just made me even hotter. At least I was warm again.
“You only left me one goddamned donut! There were a dozen, and - ” He stopped short. Looked me up and down, taking in the unmistakable sight of my condition. “Not a cold shower, huh?” My eyes fluttered shut.
“No,” I said, breathing a little harder, “It’s not.” Or at least, it wasn’t anymore. Otherwise all Nick would have found was a Vash-sickle.
“I should just let you suffer for leaving me one fuckin’ donut.” My eyes snapped open, and without really thinking about it - * Thinking? What’s that? * - I reached up and grabbed a hold of Nick’s collar, yanking him down close to my face.
“I don’t fuckin’ think so,” I growled, before yanking him the rest of the way down and kissing him hungrily. Several Nick-thoughts fluttered through my shields, ranging from +I just washed these+ to +I shouldn’t+ A little stung at that last one, I started to pull back.
+Oh, what the hell.+ Having obviously made up his mind, Nick kissed his way down to my neck, nipping and sucking as he went. I felt my knees buckle, and I started to slide down the wall of the shower. Nick’s hands moved from where they’d been braced against the walls to grab my ass and haul me upright again. Right up against him. I gasped, and he grinned at me.
“Brace yourself.”
With that, Nick dropped to his knees in front of me. My eyes widened.
* I, uh, thought you had a sore throat? Not that I’m complaining, mind. *
+Then don’t complain.+ He slid his tongue up in one smooth, slick glide, looking up at me through his eyelashes. I shook my head frantically.
*No, no, definitely not complaining.*
+Good.+ My head hit the back of the shower and my eyes fluttered shut again as he took me the rest of the way inside his mouth. I struggled not to move, trying my damndest to be careful of his sore throat. Having only one arm prevented me from grabbing a hold of his hair again, so his scalp was safe, but damn, it was so very hard not to move! I heard myself begin to whimper again, low little noises that climbed into a high-pitched, constant whine as I got closer, closer, so close...
+Keep that up and I just might have to put a collar on you. Spot.+ For some reason, the idea of Nick leading me around on a leash – naked, sent me over the edge.
“Oh Christ!” I moaned as I came, violently, my spine rippling again like it had last night. I slumped against the wall, but jerked away at the sensation of…something between me and the wall. Nick leaned back on his heels, pushing his sopping wet hair out of his eyes, and looked up at me, the smirk on his face dying as he got a good long look at me.
“Oh. My. God.” I craned my head around, and the sudden weight shift made me lose my balance and I ended up on my knees in front of Nick, my sodden wings trailing on the floor of the shower.
“Oh. My. God,” I repeated, lifting one with my right hand, and letting it flop back wetly against my skin. I looked up at Nick, who looked like he’d seen his own ghost. He put a hand out, shakily, but pulled it back before it could actually touch them. My wings. I had…big, wet, white wings.
“Mine were grey,” Nick whispered, still staring at them. His were grey? His were grey? My hand lifted his chin, trying to get him to look at me.
“Nick?” I asked, a touch of awe in my voice. “Does that mean…”
“That I’m something like you? I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t know.” A thread of pure joy wound its way around my heart, squeezing a bit at his next words. “That explains the tattoo, huh?” The tattoo? ‘Mine were grey.’ Were. He’d had wings, like mine, but…he didn’t have them anymore. I pulled him into a fierce hug, the water still falling around us. The floor was going to be soaked.
“Oh, Nick…” I stroked his hair, his back, holding him close. He was all stiff at first, but then, tentatively, his arms came up around me, flinching a little when he brushed up against the wet feathers plastered to my back and sides.
“They were bloody, mangled…broken…” He shook his head slightly against my shoulder. “He’d…he’d said, ‘Get it out of my sight.’” My fingers tightened slightly, before I forcibly relaxed. I turned my head and pressed a kiss against his temple.
“It hurt like hell,” Nick continued. “And it hurt even worse…when they took them away.” If I’d thought it would have done any good, I’d have gotten angry, but the broken sound of Nick’s voice as he tip-toed around telling me about a truly horrific time in his life only made me want to hold him closer. “Now all that’s left are the scars, the tattoo…and the phantoms.” I shifted, reaching up to turn off the steadily-colder water before pulling Nick back against me, tucking his head under my chin in a one-armed cuddle.
“Phantoms?” I asked.
“I can still feel them, sometimes. Like last night.”
“Last night?” I asked, surprised. “When?” There had been a LOT going on last night.
“Not too long after dinner.” After dinner? After dinner had been the belching contest, and then…
“Oh. That.”
“Yeah. That.” My fingers drifted down his back, suddenly wishing he had not been clothed when I’d dragged him into the shower. I blushed suddenly. I’d actually dragged him, fully clothed, into the shower, to…Nick tensed.
“You have got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.” Crap. He’d noticed.
“Just…ignore it, and it’ll go away.” Stupid fucking hormones. This was getting out of hand…crap. I need to just stop thinking, that’s all.
“We should all be so lucky.” I blushed harder, if that was even fucking possible at this point, considering the migration of blood to climes further south.
“I’m sorry, it’s just…you…I…argh!” This was beyond embarrassing, really. It was like I had next to no control over my body. It wanted, and so…yeah. Nick had the audacity to laugh at me, although it was more of a wet chuckle than anything truly mirthful.
“I’ll take it as a compliment.” At least I’d made him laugh, however briefly. Good to know my humiliation was good for something. Nick pulled away from me, holding his arms out to the sides and looking down at himself.
“I need to change clothes.” He looked at me, and held up his hands in a ‘stay put’ sort of way. Jeeze, he might as well just put that damn leash on me. “Do me a favor and just…stay here.” He started to get up, and threw me another look. “And for God’s sake, put your arm back on. It’s a little…disconcerting.” Disconcerting, he says. I raised an eyebrow.
“No, getting electrocuted in the shower is ‘disconcerting,’” I shot back. He blinked.
“Point taken.”
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