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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
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+Do the suns have to be so goddamn bright?+ I blinked a couple times as my fuzzy brain tried to make sense of where I was. The ceiling was painted white, with cracks running through it. The mattress was lumpy, and the pillow was flat. I guess I wasn’t Home after all. But I had already known that, anyway. Why would Vash be Home? I closed my eyes again and tried to return to that idyllic world. But it was no use. Dreams had no place in the harsh light of reality. But why the hell Vash was in my dreams to begin with was not a question I wanted to be pondering at this point. After all, I was safe in my own...
“Morning, sleepyhead.” Vash’s voice. Vash’s room. Vash’s...bed? I winced and tried to discreetly peek under the covers. That would not be a good thing to forget. I was still fully clothed, so why...
“After you passed out, I decided to simply move you to the bed. I wasn’t really up to the task of hauling you back to your room.” I turned in the direction Vash’s voice had originated, but as I did, the nausea hit me. Then the pain in my temples. My brain felt like swiss cheese. Old, moldy swiss cheese.
“Ugh. Where’s the water?” That was the first thing I needed. Second on my list was aspirin, then maybe a shower.
“The water’s over there on the table. I got you another bottle of aspirin, too. Extra strength.” He wanted me to get my ass up and get it myself? I had a hard enough time rolling over. I heard Vash walk across the floor, water sloshing, and what sounded distinctively like an aspirin bottle being shaken. Suddenly, a canteen and said bottle appeared above me.
“Here.” With great effort, I propped myself up on my elbow, took the aspirin bottle and shook out three tablets into my mouth, downing them with the entire contents of the canteen.
“Arigatou.” I replied, before realizing that Vash would probably have no clue what that meant. It had been so many years since I’d spoken with obasan, but the manners she’d pounded into me were hard to break. Lord knows I’d tried. But here, now, in the grogginess of a morning-after hangover, saying ‘thank you,’ even if it was in nihongo, had been the first thing that came to mind.
“Uhm…You’re…welcome?” Vash stood next to the table blinking at me.
“No, no. It’s doutashimashite. Where are your manners?” Oops. Guess I’d been channeling a bit too much of obasan there. Vash’s eyebrow rose so high it almost fell off his forehead.
“Je ne comprend pas.” Okay. I guess I sort of deserved that, since I really didn’t have any place to admonish Vash’s manners, or lack thereof. But, dammit, did he have to know another language? My lack of vocal response prompted Vash to spout, “Que, tu ne parles pas le francais?” It was obviously a question, but I wouldn’t have known what the hell he was talking about even if I didn’t have a hangover. But the aspirin was starting to take effect now and the throbbing in my temples began to subside. Thank God. But it didn’t help that Vash has still managed to make me feel inferior. Again.
“You know fucking everything, don’t you?” I asked, glaring at him.
“Well, I don’t know what ah-ree-gah-too means, now do I?” I smirked. His pronunciation was horrible.
“No, I suppose you don’t.” And I wanted to keep it that way. It was the only link I really had to obasan anymore, and if I told him, it would be sharing a secret that I hadn’t shared with anyone. Except obasan.
“Sore wa himitse desu, Nico-chan.” she’d said. “[Our secret. Uncle Roger would be very…upset if he found out. Do you understand?]”
I nodded. Obasan pulled out yarz of fabric from the chest at the foot of the bed. It was a brilliant shade of teal, with tiny flowers embroidered on it.
“[This was your mother’s kimono, Nick.]” she told me, and her eyes shimmered for a moment. “[It’s silk. From Earth. When we were young, we would dream about getting married in them. Hers wasn’t the traditional color, so maybe that’s why…]” She shook her head. “[When you’re all grown up, you can give a pretty girl my kimono for her wedding dress, and this one she can wear for special occasions.]”
I hadn’t really liked the thought of getting married. I was six and girls still had cooties. But I was mesmerized by the fabric, the way it shone in the light and the intricacy of the pattern. I’d run my hand over it and marveled at the way it almost felt like water. It had been soft. So soft…like Vash’s hair.
My eyebrows slammed together. How the hell did I know what Vash’s hair felt like? I looked up in utter confusion. My fingers itched to reach out and feel if it was really as soft as I seemed to remember. +My God, how much did I drink last night?+
“Did we finish all of those bottles last night?”
“Why? What’s wrong?” he asked. What was wrong? There was a lot wrong, beginning with the fact that I couldn’t remember shit about the night before and ending with the fact that I still wanted to run my fingers though his hair. Very badly.
“Nothing. Just curious.” I sat up and swung my legs out of bed. As I moved, my stomach lurched. I looked down at it and it lurched again. +Oh, fuck.+
I put a hand over my mouth, motioned to Vash to get the fuck out of my way with the other, then rolled off the bed and crawled to the toilet as fast as I could. I made it just in time. Thank God. The last thing I needed was to miss again.
“Your aim’s improved, this round.”
“Shaddap.” I retorted between heaves. Oh Christ. I hated vomiting. It always left me feeling drained and nasty. And not in the good way.
After my stomach had achieved its goal of emptiness, I pulled myself up to the sink to try and wash off some of the filth. I let the water run for a couple seconds until it was good and cold, then stuck my head under the tap to soak. I turned to take a small mouthful every so often, trying to wash the aftertaste of bile out of my mouth. I held on to the edge of the counter for balance, reveling in the feel of the cool water soaking through my shirt.
I don’t know how long I stayed there, trying to let the water wash away the haze in my brain, but before I had completely regained functionality, Vash chirped, “You up to that long walk down the hallway?”
“No, I’m not. I’d rather get eaten alive by sand worms right now. At least then I’d be put out of my misery.”
“Okay, no then.”
“Damn right no! I had to crawl into the bathroom to puke. You really think I can walk down the hallway?” I mean, seriously, the last thing I needed right now was to shuffle my way nine doors further down the hall. My head started to hurt again, and I had just puked up the aspirin. Fuck.
“Do you want me to carry you then?” I almost said yes. Almost. I wondered what it would be like, to be scooped up in his arms. For all obasan doted on me, she’d never carried me anywhere that I can remember. My pride refused to let him treat me like some goddamned three-year-old, though.
“Fuck you.” I gave him the one finger salute. The ‘hey buddy, fuck you,’ one. Not the ‘hey buddy, I wanna fuck you,’ one.
“Was that an offer?” Had he misread the signal? Yeesh, maybe he really was as dense as that broom I keep comparing him to. Despite the fact that I had wanted to reply in the affirmative, the results…well, it would have been worth it, but I wasn’t in any kind of shape to appreciate that right now. I removed my head from under the faucet and looked at myself in the mirror. I blinked blearily at myself, trying to decide if I looked more like a drowned cat or a dead dog. I ran a hand through my dripping hair and decided ‘drowned cat’ was probably more appropriate. And I had to take a piss.
I swung the door closed, took care of business, and was about to go back to bed to try to rid myself of the headache that just wouldn’t die when I spotted the bathtub. I’d been too cheap to get a room with anything more than a stall shower, but Vash had a fucking bathtub. Vash had a bathtub. I was currently holed up in Vash’s bathroom. With the bathtub. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. However, I wasn’t entirely without matters.
“Hey, Needle-noggin, can I commandeer your bathroom for about another hour?” I called through the door.
“Only if you say ‘please.’” he replied. +Oh gimme a break.+
“How about, if you come into this bathroom for the next hour I’m gonna kick your ass from here to Sunday.”
“That’s a pretty dire threat. It is my bathroom, after all.” Did he have to be difficult?
“What, you wanna watch?” I couldn’t decide if that was an actual offer of not. It certainly would be interesting. Vash sitting in the tub, water running over his chest… I had to stop that train of thought in its tracks before it got me into real trouble.
“All you had to do was ask.” It was supposed to have been a sarcastic comment, but... That pretty little picture resurfaced. Why was I even contemplating this? This couldn’t happen. The doorknob turned. +Shit.+ I turned around and slammed the door closed again with a well-placed kick. “Whoa. Okay. Chill out. I was only going to give you a towel, but now I think I’m going to make you come and get it.” A towel? I looked around the bathroom. No towels. +Ah, fuck it.+ I could air dry.
I flipped the lock, more to keep me in than Vash out. I turned on the hot water, and the pipes coughed, sputtered, groaned, and finally poured water into the tub. I quickly washed my clothes, and hung them on the empty towel bar, hoping they’d be dry enough to be passable. I didn’t mind the wrinkles, but I didn’t want to smell like a slob, too.
The bathtub was too short for me, obviously, but I made do. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had an honest-to-God bath. Probably when I was still living with obasan and Uncle Roger. It was longer ago than I cared to think about, especially since thinking about it meant that I had to think about what came after it. +Well, hell.+ Telling myself not to think about it was about as effective as telling myself to not think about pink sandworms or something.
Time ceased to have a lot of meaning after the first year at the Mausoleum. It didn’t pass in years or months in that place, but in Events. I know I was seven years old when I got there, but after that, the timeline goes all fuzzy. For a while, I tried to keep track of the days and weeks, but when there’s nothing but gunpowder and grease filling your every waking moment, the days start to run together. And after I’d realized that I’d forgotten to mark a day on my makeshift calendar, I’d abandoned the project all together. It wasn’t worth it anyway.
It wasn’t until I left that I realized I’d spent eleven years in that hell hole. Eleven years.
To this day I’m still not sure why they sent me on my way after all that time. They’d kept the others there, still training them for their showdown with the Humanoid Typhoon. As ridiculous as it may seem, I was almost reluctant to leave. Despite the fact that for years it had been my fondest wish to get the fuck out of there, at least I’d had a purpose. After they closed the steel door behind me, I was literally set adrift, and aimless wanderer. My first instinct had been to go after the Sixty Billion Double Dollar Man. After all, the Typhoon was a beast of a man who ate children, right? I mean, his name was used to scare little kids into going to bed on time. ‘Don’t stay out too late, or Vash the Stampede will get you.’ Hell, his name scared the adults, too, because he was still out there somewhere, ready to massacre an entire town at a moment’s notice.
As time went on and there were no reports, or even sightings, I began to doubt my self-appointed crusade. And I began to remember all the reasons I’d wanted to leave in the first place.
In the beginning, I’d been just as…gung-ho as the rest of them. We all had our theories, and mine was that we were a secret project of the Feds. It wasn’t until Chapel took us to a nearby village that I discovered what we were really being trained for. As Chapel gave the order to eliminate everyone, down to the last child, I realized we were being trained to do the very same thing our enemy was credited for. I looked up at Chapel that day, eyes wide with questions, but I never got any answers.
That was the same day I looked up ‘conservatory’ in the dictionary. And that was the day I decided to make things as difficult as possible for them. That was also, incidentally, not too long before Dante showed up. I fought Legato’s intrusions, I purposely missed innocents in training, and refused to socialize with the others, who were all more than willing to shoot down anything in their path. For them, it was a type of vengeance, I suppose. A way to lash out at those whose way of life they’d never know. Maybe Doc had made a mistake picking me up out of the gutter of LR Town, then, because my revenge was too focused. I’d known what it was like to be cared for. Comparatively, my ‘childhood,’ had been downright soft. It wasn’t until Aunt Kaede was gone that Uncle Roger even laid a hand on me. The sin that had freed me from him had been more in self-defense than anything else.
“[Forgive me…]” I whispered to no one in particular and everyone at once.
*Forgive me…* I sat up in the tub, water sloshing over the sides.
+Who’s there?+ I asked, automatically scanning the room for signs of movement. Besides a small green bird fluttering on the windowsill, everything was still.
*Forgive me…* The voice echoed again in my mind.
+Who are you?+ There was no answer, and the voice faded. That was Strange Thing Number Two since I’d woken up this morning, the first being when I wanted to run my fingers through Vash’s hair. Well, actually, the first had been waking up in Vash’s bed with the hangover that wouldn’t quit. My brain didn’t feel any sharper for having had the bath, either. I was going to have to remind myself not to drink so much. But it wasn’t any more last night than I’d had all week. So why was my hangover so bad this morning?
I submerged in the tub, letting the water close over my head until I couldn’t hold my breath anymore. I surfaced slowly, hoping that the water would wash away more than a day’s worth of dust. I leaned my head against the back of the tub and closed my eyes.
When I woke up, the water was cold, I was colder, and I still didn’t have a towel. But I was minus my headache and my stomach was grumbling, not churning. Both big pluses. I climbed out of the tub and shivered. Maybe air-drying wasn’t such a good idea. Now I kinda wanted that towel. And the only way I was going to get it was to go back out there. I listened at the door for a few seconds before deciding +He who hesitates is lost.+
I carefully turned the knob, half-expecting an ambush. I peeked around the open door and scanned the small room. It was empty. +Must’ve gone down to get something to eat.+ I opened the door a little wider and side-stepped into the room. My foot landed on something soft. When I looked down to see what I had stepped on, there was a neatly folded towel there by the door. Sometimes, Vash was too damn nice for his own good.
I hurried and got dressed. It was already a little after one, and I had some errands to run today. I checked my wallet.

“Forty-five, fifty, sixty-five...” I counted softly. Still enough for lunch and a bus ticket. I quietly cursed Angelina for blowing up on me in the desert two months ago. She’d been such a good bike, too. Well, maybe I could find another one in Jeneora Rock. A better one. But if I had any hope of acquiring it, I’d need to do a pretty brisk business along the way. Unless I could win it from somebody. That’s how Angelina had come into my possession in the first place. Poker tournaments are either a terrific place to lose your shirt or bring home the bacon. I’d walked into Dankin two years ago just as the fifth annual Blackjack and Poker Tournament was getting underway. I’d walked away from that table with over a million double dollars. That was more than enough to send Home and travel around the planet in style. I’d bought Angelina that very same day. But now, I’d been reduced to a lowly bus passenger. I really wanted my motorcycle back. First thing’s first, however.
As I shut the door to Vash’s room, I glanced down the hall to my own. +Maybe he holed up there? God, I hope not.+ That place was a jungle. He was probably either eating or playing with the neighborhood kids. My stomach grumbled at me. I’d try the Hotel Restaurant, first.
The Hotel Restaurant was actually what the place was called. Probably because it was right next door to the hotel and run by the same people. It was an average (read ugly) adobe building with average (read cheap) food. It’s where Vash and I had eaten breakfast every day this week. I think the only redeeming factor of the place was that their sausage gravy wasn’t rubbery or runny.
I sat down in a corner table. I was too late to order breakfast today, but spaghetti was on the menu, so I ordered that. Normally, I’d just have a bowl of soup, but lately I’d given up trying to find a replacement for Sister Fran’s concoctions. What that woman can do with bean paste and egg noodles is beyond comprehension. I could eat her miso soup every day for the rest of my life and I still wouldn’t be tired of it.
However, after two bites, I was already tired of this meal. The spaghetti was watery and the sauce tasted vaguely of aluminum. But despite my lack of enthusiasm for it, it was warm and it was food, and I was thankful it was only four double dollars for the plate.
<Nicholas.> Oh Christ. <What are you doing?> This was no idle inquiry into my daily affairs. The question was so pointed it hurt.
+Having lunch. Is that a crime?+ I felt, rather than heard, his laugh as it cut through me, sending shards of ice down my spine. Legato didn’t even have to do anything to me physically. All he had to do was laugh and I wanted to hide. Under a blanket. A bit, thick, warm blanket.
<Not yet. Although, if you continue to loiter, we will be forced to take drastic action.> He didn’t have to remind me what that was.
+Look, I’m out of here on the next bus.+
<Be sure that you are. Master awaits your arrival.> Oh, goodie. And with that pleasant thought, he detached himself from my brain. There was a brief sensation of loss, like he’d been more firmly attached to my mind than normal. I checked my defenses, and they were all pretty well intact, so that didn’t make much sense. There’d been a lot that didn’t make sense this morning. Something didn’t feel quite right up there, but I shrugged it off on the alcohol. The excuse didn’t really hold, but what else could it be? It was a strain for Legato to communicate over long distances, so unless he’d left the Mausoleum, which was unlikely, he wouldn’t waste his energy giving me the willies like this. It had to be the alcohol. Just had to be.
“Hello, Mister Priest!” Millie’s cheery voice roused me from my thoughts.
“Hello yourself. What brings you here on such a beautiful day?” Something about Millie just made you want to smile, even if you weren’t feeling particularly jovial. She giggled.
“Lunch, silly.” She sat down across from me. “I bet you’re here for that, too.” I nodded.
“How’d you guess? Geez, you must be psychic or something,” I replied, staring at my half-finished plate of spaghetti. I tried to keep the sarcastic tone to a minimum, but I’m not sure how well that worked.
“You know, my Middle-Big Sister said the same thing when I accidentally-on-purpose told the family she was pregnant at breakfast one morning. It was okay because she and her boyfriend got married a month later. Daddy was awful mad for a while, though.” I stared at her wide-eyed. Millie was accidentally more terrifying than Meryl could ever hope to be. The waiter interrupted Millie's gossip session by asking her what she wanted to eat.
“Peach Mango pudding, please, a big bowl.”
“Pudding for lunch?” I asked.
“Of course! I always eat my dessert first!” she positively beamed. I just shook my head and tried to fight the smile that twitched at the corner of my lips.
“Must be why you’re so sweet,” I replied. Even under normal circumstances I was a shameless flirt, but Millie made it way too easy. She blushed furiously.
“That’s what my Big-Big Brother always says, too!” And she could always shoot me down just as easily. I don’t think she even realized it. Maybe that’s why I kept on trying. That and I genuinely enjoyed her company. Even when the topic was her family. Scratch that. Especially when it was her family. It made me a little wistful at times, but for the most part, stories about her family just reminded me of Home. Which was a good thing.
“And what else does your Big-Big Brother say?” I figured this would start her off on some other family story tangent, but she surprised me by answering with two sentences.
“That I'm a bad influence on my cousins.” She stared at the table, glancing up at me woefully. “He calls me the Thompson Tomboy.” I stared at her in disbelief.
“A bad influence? You? And your family’s what, a choir of angels?” She giggled.
“They just don’t think I’m very ladylike.”
“I hate to break it to ya, sweetheart, but not every girl carries around a fifty-pound stun-gun.”
“Not everybody carries around a cross full of guns, either, Mister Priest.” I put my hand over my heart in a dramatic gesture.
“Ah, ya got me.”
“Oh! I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Millie asked, suddenly anxious. I chuckled.
“No, no, it’s alright.”

“Phew! I was worried!” She pulled her hand across her forehead. She perked up, though, as the waiter set a huge bowl of orange glop down on the table. She took a huge mouthful of what might be classified as pudding. It looked more like the sad remains of a pureed carrot. “Oh, Mifter Pweest, dis is delishush!” She chirped happily. Millie swallowed, scooped up another spoonful, and was about to shovel that one in her mouth, too, when she looked up.
“Oh, I'm sorry. Did you want a bite?”
“Uhm, no thanks, Millie. I'm full.” I don't think I could have put that orange

goo in my mouth if my life depended on it. Thankfully, it didn't.
Millie finished off the huge bowl of pudding in no more than two minutes. I'd never seen anyone eat that fast, with the notable exception of Vash devouring a box of donuts. It was fascinating. I laughed. Millie licked off the spoon and placed it gently in the empty bowl.
“What's so funny?” she asked, her head cocked to one side.
“Oh, I was just thinking that you eat pudding about as fast as the Humanoid

Typhoon eats donuts.” I'd seen him polish off a dozen in thirty seconds flat on more than one occasion. Millie smiled.
“So that’s how it is,” She was smiling, but it wasn't her usual tooth-achingly cute smile. This one had some kind of devious intent, and I didn't like it one bit. What was she plotting?
“How what is?”
“You like Mister Vash, don't you?” She asked it so plainly that I was a little

taken aback. I didn't think I'd been obvious about it at all, I mean, if anything I thought I'd sort of been playing it off like I didn’t like him. Millie put a hand over her mouth and giggled. “Meryl did the same thing when I asked her, too.” I stared at her agape for a beat or two before I recovered enough to form semi-coherent thoughts.
“Meryl? Meryl and... No way.” I just couldn't believe it. I'd seen her staring at him with a moony, vacant expression on her face a couple times, but I didn't think Vash would...
“Oh, no, no, no. Meryl is a professional, after all. She never lets anything get in the way of her job. But just between you and me, you might have some competition.” She winked at me and giggled again.
“What?” I asked incredulously. Who had ever said anything about competition?

I certainly hadn't. Meryl could have... no. She couldn't. I wouldn't let her. +Whoa. Back up there.+ I'll be the first to admit that Vash is just downright sexy, but I'd never thought about him as mine. I hadn’t let myself. Because if I got too close to him, in any way, I knew I wouldn't be able to finish the job. And that would put Sister Fran and the kids in jeopardy. I couldn't do that to them. “Look, I don't know who said anything about competition, but that's not how it is.” And if Vash were mine? There wouldn’t be any ‘competition.’
Millie just smiled, like she was about to explain something very complicated to

a small child.
“It's something else, too. You and Mister Vash are a lot alike, you know?” She had a point, although I was loath to admit it. I didn’t want to admit just how alike we really were. Besides the obvious facts that we were both gunfighters by 'trade' and wanderers by circumstance, there were other, smaller indications that what Millie said could be true. I shook my head. I couldn’t let her think she was right about this. Not here anyway, and certainly not now.
“What does that have to do with the price of donuts in December?”
“He likes donuts, too, so there's another thing!” She smiled in triumph. She

wasn't going to give this up.
“You still haven't told me why that's important.”
“Well...” she blushed. “Mister Vash just... really cares about you, is all.” “I care, you know.” Vash sitting on the bed, staring at the floor between his feet. That was last night. It had to be. All I got was that tiny snippet of memory. There was the bar, then the Legato’s little ‘joke,’ and then…that. And that was all. I crushed the heel of my hand against my forehead. There had to be something else. Something I was missing here, but…
“What did you do, Millie, beat him at chess again?” Meryl’s voice cut through the restaurant like a hot knife through butter. Of all the times to interrupt… I hated that woman. She always managed to tinge life with a certain sourness.
“Does it look like we’re playing chess?” I gave her a ‘you turd’ sort of look.
“Maybe it was just all in your head,” she spat.
“And maybe your head’s stuck up your…”
“Now Meryl,” Millie interrupted a perfectly vindictive train of thought, “that wasn’t very nice. We were just having lunch.”
“Oh really?” Meryl gave me an accusatory look. “So that’s what they call it now.” That was just cruel. Not to mention insulting to Millie. And where does she get off insinuating that kind of thing anyway?
“Excuse me, but I am a priest.”
“If you’re a priest, I’ll eat my tomas.” Heh. I’d love to see that. I was half-tempted to pull out my card. My attire was so unusual that I’d found that little thing more than useful for gaining the confidence of potential confessors. Enh…I’ll settle for getting her goat – er, tomas.
“Oh. So that’s what they’re calling it now.” I grinned. Meryl glared. And didn’t respond. Point for me. The vein in her forehead popped and started throbbing wildly. Two points for me. Now all she needed to do was scream and storm off. +Wait for it, wait for it…DAMMIT!+ All she did was stand there with this constipated look on her face. And then she actually started to calm down. +I must be losing my touch.+
After the urge to scream had passed, she told Millie that they were “going to look for that broom-headed oaf.” Millie just nodded, stood, and hurried to the door.
“You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you?” she asked, teeth clenched.
“Me? Nope. No clue.” I just smiled. Not that I would have told her even if I knew. I was pretty sure he hadn’t skipped town yet, but just on general principle, I feigned ignorance.
“Figures. You’re useless.” She turned on her heel and marched off, letting the door slam behind her. I started to eat my spaghetti again, but watching Millie devour carrot-colored pudding had sort of ruined my appetite. I pushed the plate away.
I was just about ready to go pay the bill, to which Millie had conveniently added her pudding, when I noticed a familiar shock of blond hair poking around the corner on the far side of the restaurant.
+Well, well, well. Look who decided to put in an appearance.+ Vash walked over to the table and sat down. He glanced around, probably still on the lookout for Millie and Meryl.
“Are they really, really gone?” he asked. +How long had he been over there?+
“Yup. At least for now. Where’d you disappear to?”
“The only safe place from Meryl. The men’s room. She’s gotten awfully pushy.” Well, that was a new one. Ingenious, too. Meryl really would go everywhere else, including the One-Eyed Jack. Although, that was one of the few bars in town where a woman could feel safe, actually. It wasn’t so safe for guys, though, as Vash could attest. I’d heard he had an ‘incident’ there the other night…but back to the matter at hand.
“This is just a recent thing? I thought she was always like that.”
“You have no idea.” Vash shook his head.

“Oh, I can imagine.” I knew exactly what it was like to have an arrogant, pushy bitch watching my every move. It was no fun. No fun at all.
Vash cocked his head to one side, confused, then understanding crossed his face. Call me paranoid if you must, but my first thought was that he knew. Or at the very least suspected. And the missing time from last night did absolutely nothing to ease those fears. Had I…? I focused on the previous night. A scene clear as day played itself out.

“Nick…”
Bolts through flesh.
Deep, puckered scars.
“Where are the fucks that did that?”
* Forgive me…*

What the hell had happened? I’d had gaps in my memory before, gaps from alcohol, but this...I’d never had something come at me like this. Had Vash…no! I needed to get out of there. Now. I stood up, nearly knocking my chair over in the process.
“Well, places to go, lambs to save, that sort of thing. May you go with God, my friend.”
* I’d rather go with YOU, you idiot. * I did a double take and just stared at Vash for a beat. That wasn’t my thought. There was another voice there. One that...*Forgive me...*
“WHAT?” Vash’s reaction mirrored mine perfectly. “Not that kind of friends. My kind of friends.” Oh shit. I’d said…oh hell. What on this planet could have made me say something like that last night? +Oh fuck it. I don’t think I want to know.+
“Umm, nothing. Look, it’s been real, but I gotta go.” And with that, I hurriedly paid my bill and got the hell out of there.
Something had gone terribly wrong. And I couldn’t remember what or how or why. And to top it all off, I was headed back to Jeneora Rock today. The word ‘friend’ rang in my head. I hadn’t meant to…it was just...of all the times to use that word. It usually made other people feel comfortable. But after last night’s apparent fiasco, I couldn’t blame Vash for being a bit taken aback. +And I really shouldn’t blame him for running after me like this, either.+ I could feel his eyes boring a hole in the back of my skull. It made my back hurt. Right between my shoulder blades. He tapped my shoulder.
“What is it, Needle-noggin?” Frustration seeped out around the edges of my voice.
“Well, uh... Hey! How did you...?” +Know it was you?+
“Call it intuition.” I waved my hand over my shoulder. “What did you want?” +Besides coming with me, apparently, which is entirely out of the question.+ Convenient for Legato and Co., but not on my list of things to do at the moment. Or ever.
“I was just wondering, well, if you were going the same way, if we could, uh, travel together, you know... It’s cheaper to travel that way...” he trailed off. Well, I’m just psychic today, aren’t I? However convenient it would be, his little rendezvous at the Mausoleum would have to wait. +Here’s hoping I can put it off indefinitely.+
“I...uh...” Shit, what could I say? “They’re out of tickets?” Riiiight.
“Where to? The tickets they’re out of, that is.” I turned to look at him. Big mistake. He had a look of dejected optimism, like he was expecting me to... “You treat me like shit on a regular basis...” Now what? When he looked like that, it was like trying to lie to Millie. I couldn’t live with myself if I looked him in the eye and outright lied.
“Jeneora. I’ve gotta go to Jeneora.” +And you can’t come with me.+
“Why?”
“Because you can’t.” Fuck. “I mean, because I have to.” Memories, thoughts and speech were all becoming blurred in my head, and more of last night kept surfacing at an alarming rate.
“Oh.” Vash’s voice was soft, tired, maybe a little hurt. “Okay.” I wished I could make him understand. Wished that just once I didn’t have to do this to him.
I turned and walked slowly to the ticket office across the square. I didn’t even say goodbye. Maybe that was for the best, though. Things might return to whatever passed for normal in our lives. It would all go back to the way it was before...before what? Vash isn’t somebody you just forget. And...I didn’t want to. Like it or not, I had to face the fact that Vash had made a place for himself in my head. I wanted to just go Home. See Sister Fran and the kids. Had Ryo left while I was away? He’d been thinking about it before I’d left. We’d had a long man-to-man talk out under the cliff. I guess I’d sort of been hoping he’d take my place if I ever couldn’t come back. But, he’d wanted to leave, make his own way. I couldn’t blame him, really. But since it seemed that not returning Home was a distinct possibility this time... But why? I didn’t have a real reason for thinking that, but some kind of sixth sense had me fearing the worst. All thanks to Fucking Legato Fucking Bluesummers. That blue-haired freak had had it in for me since the day we met.
“WHY ME?”
“I don’t know ‘why you’ sonny, but you’d better tell me where you’re headed.” The grizzled old man behind the counter said. Shit. I really needed to quit thinking out loud.
“Jeneora Rock.” The ticket man gave me an odd look. He stared hard at me for a second before making out the ticket.
“That’ll be forty-seven double dollars.” I dug out my wallet. “Ya might wanna be careful goin’ out there, though. I heard that Vash the Stampede is headed that-a-way. You wouldn’t be after the bounty, now, would ya?” His eyes pressed mine for an answer. I shook my head. Vash the Stampede. He was probably still standing behind me.
“Going...” I paused. There had to be another word. But none came readily to mind. “Home, actually.” Home. Yeah. I couldn’t think of a word that was further from where I was actually headed. The ticket man nodded approvingly.
“Good boy. Every son should go home once in a while.” He handed me my ticket, and I handed him my money. I read the paper, just to make sure it was... Fuck.
“Hey, hey mister, is there something leaving tonight?” The ticket said the bus left tomorrow at nine. A.M. I hated the public transportation system.
“Nope. Sorry.” And he shut the grate over the window. Fuck.
And then there was a tap on my shoulder. +Guess who?+
“Fuck, you really don’t know when to give up, do you?” I spat as I turned around. It wasn’t that I was pissed at Vash specifically, but the frustration of the entire situation was really starting to wear on my nerves. Instead of turning around and walking away, Vash got an incredibly strange look on his face. He looked like he was torn between laughing and crying.
“Uhm... how about one last round of drinks before you head off into the sunset?” How...convenient. Too convenient. +If I get plastered tonight, I know I’m never going to make that bus.+ There was a very large part of me that wanted to tell him to kindly go fuck off thankyouverymuch, but... “You treat me like shit on a regular basis and now...” I cut the memory words off. I didn’t want to remember.
“I do other things besides drink, you know.”
“Really? Like what?” He looked a little too surprised about that for his own good. That was more than a little degrading. Maybe I really did drink too much. +When in doubt, resort to alcohol.+ That sounded frighteningly like Uncle Roger. I didn’t want to think about the implications of sounding like Uncle Roger. It was probably a wonder I hadn’t physically lashed out at Vash yet. +Let’s try staying sober for a change, eh, Wolfwood?+ The only problem being what the hell we’d do.
“Play chess?” I didn’t really like the game, but after Millie’d saved my ass on the caravan, I’d played a couple rounds with her and picked up some really good tips. And maybe...
“Really? I’ve been told I’m not a bad player, actually.” Vash already knew how to play. Damn. But really, how long can you hang around with Millie before she pesters you to play? And Vash seemed to be genuinely excited about it. He was actually...smiling. I’ll be damned. “Come on, I know where we can find a board.”
Vash started off across the square. Once again, I took the opportunity to enjoy the view. He almost caught me staring when he turned around suddenly.
“Well? What are you, chicken?”
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