Reflections

A/N: Second chapter. We’ll see where this whole thing ends up going depending on how \\this chapter turns out. It’s N.D.Wolfwood’s P.O.V. though it’s told through narration. Words in ** are words thought by Nicholas himself. Also, there are NO insurance girls in my version of events. Sorry to you, if you’re a Meryl/Milly fan. Yes, I realize that these are important characters, but my story happens differently, and since they are not KEY characters, I am omitting them. This chapter should be less dark. With at least a little bit of humor, I think. Please review. And please enjoy.

*NO, Trigun is not owned or created by me, Jessica. If it were, they would certainly not be able to play it on Cartoon Network. And Wolfwood would be my personal love slave. And Kuroneko samas would abound much more plentifully.

*Rated R: for language. ANGST. Guns. Sand.


Previously:


**“No. Why don’t you shoot ME? Come on, just once ought to do it. Put me out of my misery, get me off of this godforsaken planet.” Nicholas thought, the words aching to escape his lips. “Come on, come on, come on.”**

“Come on.”

Reflections, chapter 2: Rewind

So now back up. Rewind.

3 Days Ago:


They sat on a bench in the main square of the city. The loud noises of city life rang out around them; kids playing in the square, vendors selling food and drinks, women and men doing their shopping. What city they were in, was anyone’s guess. After a while, they all sounded the same. They all looked the same. Loud. Sandy.

**This would be so much EASIER if Knives would just let me tell this idiot where to go, instead of just following him around on a blind hunt. Then this whole mess would be over, and I could go back home to December.”**

Nicholas Wolfwood sat next to the blonde gunman known as Vash the Stampede. Vash was happily destroying a box of freshly fried donuts and blathering on about some inane story in order to dissipate the uncomfortable silence that had kept sneaking up upon them all day. The suns beat down overhead and Nicholas was sweating heavily under his black suit. The fact that it was cotton made no difference. It felt as if he was wrapped tightly in a black garbage bag and stuck inside of an oven as some sort of horrible experiment to see what the baking process would do to someone in that situation. And Vash’s rambling was only pushing the dagger of a headache he was cultivating further into his temple. He was in a not-so rare foul mood.

“...and so I said ‘Excuse me? But is that a black cat in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?!’ Well it turns out that it WAS a black-“

“Vash.”

“Uh huh?”

“Please. Shut up.”

Vash heaved a great sigh and slumped back farther into the bench that both he and Nicholas occupied. He popped the last of his donuts into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

**”Ahh, silence. Thank you, God.”** Nicholas thought, turning his eyes up to the heavens in acknowledgement. Immediately the glare of the twin suns forced him to lower his gaze, etching bright blotches into his retinas. He shut his eyes, and slumped over, rubbing his brow to relieve some of the tension of the headache, muttering a “Goddamnit.”

“How much money do we have left? Let’s go get a room.” Nicholas muttered quietly, trying not to disturb the pulsing blood vessels in his head.

“Well, about that. We have SOME money, but not nearly as much as I’d like!” Vash replied in a high nervous voice, sitting up straight, smiling from ear to ear and scratching the back of his head. He turned his gaze to Wolfwood. The smile fell from his face as he looked worriedly at him for a moment, and opened his mouth to ask what was wrong before being cut off.

“What does that mean: ‘Not nearly as much as I’d like?’” Wolfwood snapped, whipping his head to glare at Vash, and then wincing visibly.

Vash looked Nicholas up and down, his blue eyes watching the priest thoughtfully.

“Well... I’d say we have enough for... well... nothing.” Vash peered up at Nicholas sheepishly, head tucked deep within the large collar of his red coat.

“What!?!” Wolfwood leapt to his feet, face red, pulling at his dark hair. “Oh my God!”

“It’s O.K.! It’s O.K. Nick.” Vash consoled, standing up to put his arm around the hysterical priest.

“Oh Lord. I need a cigarette.” Nicholas moaned over his near-hyperventilation. He reached nimble fingers into the pocket inside the left breast of his jacket. He felt around frantically for a second, and upon finding nothing, let out a wail heard from one end of the city to the next.

“NOOOOOO!”

--------

Two Days Ago:

The first sun broke over the horizon, and the sky blurred from a cool frosty blue to a delicate rose pink. The initial rays of light illuminated the landscape, and Nicholas D. Wolfwood blinked once, twice, and then sat up groggily. He grabbed his jacket, which he had wadded up and slept on as his pillow the night before, and slipped each of his long, slightly muscled arms into its sleeves. He spared a glance for the sleeping red bundle curled up beside him. He gathered his legs up underneath him and pushed himself up into a standing position, still loo dow down at the sleeping gunman.

**”Damn. He looks so peaceful sleeping like that. It’s a shame that he has no idea what’s in store for him.”** Nicholas thought. He sighed aloud, shaking his head, dark hair swishing back and forth across his forehead, a few sprinkles of sand dusting out.

**”I wish I wasn’t here. I wish I didn’t have to do all this shit work. I wish he wasn’t so naive.”**

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled a hard earned, though slightly crumpled cigarette out. Last night had been hell. He and Vash (who had spent their last double dollars on donuts without realizing it until afterwards) walked from small store to small store trying to find a temporary way to make money. They ended up working for a restaurant owned by a decrepit old man who kept winking suggestively at Vash. 8 hours of washing dishes later, he rewarded them with a mere $$30 apiece.

Naturally Nicholas pulled his gun on him immediately. Vash raineained him, pulled him outside, and tried to talk him down from his rage. Eventually Wolfwood calmed down enough to slink into the nearest convenience mart to purchase a pack of cigs and a bottle of whisky wrapped in a brown paper bag. When he returned, they climbed onto Angelina II, Cross-Punisher securely roped onto the back, and drove north. The wind blew their hair from their faces, providing them with some slight relief from the stagnant beating rays of the suns. Going north had been Vash’s idea. With no clue as to where to start, except for following occasional tales of carnage or vague whispers of strange occurrences, Vash had decided that if they headed north long enough, they were bound to come across something.

Eventually the suns set, and dusk in the desert put visibility for driving at near zero. When complete dark fell and the moons rose, full and swollen like pregnant wombs, they decided to stop and camp out. They built a small fire, and chatted idly, taking long swigs of the cheap whisky (still wrapped tightly in its paper bag.) They talked and drank until Wolfwood pretended to fall asleep. It was quite an unusual feeling, passing so much time in the company of the man you are setting up for eventual destruction. Getting to know him. Spending your night with him. Eating, drinking, and travelling with him. As much as Vash got on Wolfwood’s nerves most of the time, he found it difficult to face him whenever he would turn those turquoise eyes to him with a serious, thoughtful, weighing expression in them. It was unnerving. Especially after Nicholas had a few drinks in him. The more he drank, the more Vash seemed to be saying, “I know. I know what you’re doing. How can you do this? You’re my friend.”

**”No I’m not, Tongari. I’m not you’re friend.”** Wolfwood brooded, turning away from Vash, as he had been doing more and more often lately. He could almost hear what Vash’s response would have been.

**”You’re not my enemy either.”**

Nicholas had no misconceptions about Knives. He had met the man only once, and that was when Legato had taken him in for a meeting. Wolfwood got the impression that Knives didn’t fully trust anyone that he had not met face to face to handle the grunt-work of this mission. He wanted to be sure of whomever he was sending out to live day after dayh hih his only brother. The very same brother, it seemed to Wolfwood, that he wanted to kill. The details of their relationship had been explained very vaguely, and no reason was given to Nicholas as to why Knives was so intent on destroying him. At the time, Wolfwood had shrugged it off, not caring to know any more than he needed too. Just enough to get the job done, so he could go home to December. His kids. The orphanage. But as he settled into his little space in the sand, pretending to be asleep, he wondered what Vash could have done to deserve whatever fate lay waiting for him at the hands of Knives.

**”It doesn’t matter.”** He thought almost guiltily, before drifting off to sleep for real.


---TBC---

*A/N: This chapter starts off 3 days before the events of chapter one. It ends two days before chapter one. The next chapter should be the day before the events in chapter one. Sorry if this is confusing to anyone, though it really is pretty self-explanatory. Eventually the timeline will straighten itself out again. Flashback is a useful tool, no? I think it will help explain why Nicholas is so tense in the first chapter, or at least why the two are so high strung that they draw guns on each other (note: if you didn’t pick up on it in the first chapter, Wolfie pulls his gun FIRST. That’s why Vash draws. I don’t think I made that clear enough. Must go back and edit.)