Reflections

A/N: This is the first attempt at the first chapter of "Reflections." I hope this story will be my first multi-chapter endeavor to come out successful. Wish me luck! It's N.D.Wolfwood's P.O.V. though it's told through narration. Words in ** are words thought by Nicholas himself. So yeah, go forth and enjoy.

*NO, I do not own Trigun, Planet Gunsmoke, a cheap hotel, a Kuroneko-sama, Vash, Wolfwood, Milly, Meryl, Knives, Legato, Midvalley, etc. If I did, I would sell them on ebay. (just kidding! I'd do so many WAY more fun things with them than that! evil **yaoi** grin.)

*Rated R: Only for language, and tense situations, as of right now.

Reflections:

The hotel was cheap, of course. They always were. The money they occasionally came by seemed to jump straight out of their pockets and into their bottles of whisky, or gin, or occasionally beer. Tonight was no exception, and the two drunk men blinked in the darkness at the only twin sized bed in their room.

**"I could have sworn I asked for TWO beds. If I thought I could make it downstairs without tripping over my own goddamned feet, I'd give the manager a piece of my mind."**.

Nicholas D. Wolfwood scratched his head, long fingers getting tangled in his matted, unwashed hair. They had been camping out for the past three days, unable to afford both a healthy supply of food and a rather unhealthy supply of liquor in addition to sleeping accommodations. More often than not, lately, the food and booze won. Sand was embedded into Nicholas' skull, it seemed. Though he was desperately in need of a shower, it would have to wait until tomorrow morning. No way was he forfeiting the bed in favor of cleanliness. Besides, he was too drunk to mind being filthy anyway.

"It's mine." Vash sd, hd, his words slurring ever-so-slightly together. He stumbled the few remaining steps to the bed, and sat down. His hands (metal. flesh.) met at his neck, unbuttoning the top buttons of his painfully red jacket.

"Like Hell!" Nicholas barked, striding confidently towards Vash (and by some small miracle refing ing from tripping over himself along the way.) "That bed is mine. Get the fuck off it, Tongari." He grabbed Vash's arm (metal. It was cold even through the thick cotton of his jacket) and began to pull with all his might.

"Stop it." Vash whispered.

"No. I'm not kidding. Get up. I want the bed tonight." Nicholas growled, shaking Vash's arm in his grasp. Too much sand, too much liquor. Nicholas D. Wolfwood would NOT be sleeping on the floor this evening. Suddenly the tension level skyrocketed.

A split second. One gun. Black. (the first move.) Two guns. Silver. (self-defense.) Nick's small black handgun ground into the delicate skin of Vash's neck. Vash's longer metal barrel pressed against Nick's chest. Both men sobered faster than they'd ever had to in their entire lives. The moons outside were burning bright, with a cold white ferocity that lit almost the entire hotel room. It glinted off the steel of Vash's gun. Nick's, being matte black, had only a dull reflection of the light. The small pinpoints of reflected moonlight, trapped within their room, looked like the two moons that were risen outside. One strong and bright, shining merrily off the clean steel, the other smaller, dim, an almost halfhearted attempt at existence. Vash. Wolfwood.

**"I could end this now. I could save myself so much trouble. "**.

Vash glared at Nicholas, whose hand had moved almost as quickly as his own, jumping from metal arm to metal gun in a fraction of a second. Nicholas held his breath and glared back. He could see the gunman rly.rly. He could practically read the thoughts moving behind Vash's eyes (an elusive aqua/turquoise in the light of day; an unforgiving grey in the dark of night.)

**"That's right. Shoot me Nicholas. Everyone else has, so why not you? No Nicholas, you wouldn't, would you? Knives would kill you. Or worse. But if you could... I really do believe you'd shoot me over a bed. Over this. Just to get me out of your hair."**

The thoughts seemed to be written all over Vash's face, but it couldn't be true. Nicholas knew he must have been reading way more into it than was actually there. Vash had no idea about his real motives. His real reasons for attaching himself to the humanoid typhoon practically at the hip. He must have been projecting his own thoughts, his own guilt.

**"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."

----TBC---

*Let me know what you think! Review it, please. I'll love you forever if you do.