Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Finding Heaven ❯ Nightlight ( Chapter 4 )

Disclaimer-- Jeez, do I hafta do one for every freaking chapter? Da--amn... Okay, lemme try this: ditto on chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, and of course 5.
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Wolfwood sank into the overstuffed chair gratefully, a blank look on his face. What was he doing here? Who... no why... The questions flickering through his head silenced him, and so he simply watched as Vash paced the room.

As for the other occupant of the room, his mental state was obvious. He acted as if the world had come crashing down on him in the span of an hour... which in a sense it had, Wolfwood supposed. So there they were, Wolfwood, dead in the chair, and Vash the dream specter, pacing the room as if he were a prisoner within his cell. Inside his very richly furnished cell, Wolfwood added silently. This had to have cost a fortune to decorate, it even had wood floors and wooden walls. He had never seen so much wood in one room before, and from what little of the rest of the house he'd seen, it was all like this. While observing the room, Wolfwood turned his thoughts to the occurrences of the past few hours.

For the majority of the trip to his current destination, he had been seriously out of it. His thoughts had kept on revolving around the color of his host's eyes. They should have been green but they were not. He had seen this man in his dreams, but his eyes were wrong. Why? It was as if he was watching deja vu from the other side of the mirror. These thoughts troubled him, which he didn't care much for. Why couldn't anything ever be simple?

Finally, the man spoke, his faltering words echoing through Wolfwood's mind. "You said your name was Nicholas? Before we start, I have to set you straight. I-I'm not Vash," he started, his voice cracking on that last word. "My name is Knives, Knives Millions." Pace... Pace... Pace... He stopped and looked at Wolfwood questioningly, as Nicholas attempted to grasp what had just been said. Not Vash? But... the dream, and the promise... This had been the man speaking to the child in his dream... This had been the man who had left the dream carrying the coat that Wolfwood now wore... This was the man whose footsteps he had trailed on this dusty planet for seven years. Seven years of his life lost to the pursuit of a phantom... and now? It didn't make any sense. It had been through the actions of the Humanoid Typhoon that Wolfwood had taken up his quest, his cross so to speak. It had to be him... he matched everything he could recall of Vash the Stampede, except for the eyes. The eyes which should have been the color of water were instead the color of a clear sky.

Shaking his head, Wolfwood realized that the man had been speaking for several minutes now, stumbling over his own words as if in an attempt to rid himself of them. "So you see, he has appeared several times since then, but--"

"You mean Vash is your brother?" The flat tone Wolfwood asked it in caused the man before him to spin around and look at him closely.

"I don't know. I guess you could say that. There is no proof that he is not my brother... but there is no real proof that he is my brother either." The man shrugged, dropping his hands to his sides in frustration before turning to the window and staring outside. "I-It's complicated--even for me. I don't know how to tell it to someone who wasn't involved." He sighed once more, his posture one of defeat. "Hell, I don't know how I'd discuss this with Vash even." At this last statement he stopped and leaned against the window, spreading his palms over the flawless glass. There he stood, leaning out over the night of the courtyard, moodily surveying the nightscape. "But I'm sure he'd know what to do, wouldn't he?" He laughed bitterly.

After a moment of awkwardly observing the man, Wolfwood forced himself out of the chair to walk over to Knives. Standing there, he ignored the fact that Knives was not acknowledging him. "Knives," he said softly, turning his face towards his companion, "You said you wanted to talk." Knives nodded silently. "I suspect that what you want to talk about has something to do with what I've been searching for all these years, doesn't it?" Knives let out a heavy sigh, his breath fogging the glass. Standing up straight, he glanced over at Wolfwood once before replying.

"Honestly, I can't say."

"Can't, or won't?"

"Can't, in this case. You see, I am aware that Vash has something to do with your appearance, however, I don't know what precisely. I never fully understood him. He was, well, he was Vash. He--" Knives voice had gotten huskier since the conversation had begun. It was the sound of unshed tears, and Wolfwood hated it. "Shit. I don't know about you, but I'm going to need a drink."

Wolfwood shook his head, and watched as Knives fixed himself a drink from a shelf behind his desk. "Jesus, you've practically got enough to stock a bar back there," he observed casually. "You planning on doing that or is this just one of the perks of your... um job?" He gestured vaguely around the room, his eyes widening as he watched Knives finish one drink and begin to pour himself another.

"I'm the mayor of Inepril, and as such I entertain many political figures in this room. A portion of this involves the occasional friendly drink. All business, you understand." Knives lifted the glass he was drinking out of to the light, observing the play of colors across his shadowed hand before continuing. "Lately, my guests have been mostly of a certain sort. A certain, very dangerous sort." He lowered the glass and took a swig before finishing his statement. "And they all want the same thing."

"Which is?" Wolfwood wasn't sure he wanted to hear this, but there was no turning back now.

"Vash. Just Vash. However, since no one there has been no sight nor sound of him since July... I guess they'd probably settle for you." Circling around the desk once more, a refilled glass in hand, he sat across from Wolfwood, his face deadly serious. "They call themselves the Gung-ho Guns. I don't know if they ARE the Gung-ho Guns, but their agent, Millie Thompson, certainly is talented enough to be a member of such a legendary organization. God, she's--she's... She's the reason I keep the bar. You'd know what I meant if you met her. Hell, I think even Vash would have been scared by her."

"So the Gung-ho Guns are after Vash? But why?"

"I don't know. I might ask the same of you, but I am not entirely sure I want to know why you seek him." Knives sipped his drink before leaning back into his chair. "But this is all slightly off topic, isn't it? You want to know about Vash, which is a story that I can't tell you for reasons you will discover. However, I can take you to one who can tell you, if you wish." Taking another sip, Knives watched Wolfwood consider his answer. "You realize that by now the Millie Thompson knows you're here, that is, if she wasn't already tailing us from the beginning. By now, you're so deep in this that the only way out is to see it through to the end."

"What end?" Wolfwood stared blankly at the wall behind Knives, his voice empty. There was no end as far as he could see. There never was.

"I don't know, but you are the piece of the puzzle that's been missing for all this time. My guess is, that whatever it is, it's coming pretty soon. So do you still want to see him? He's the most likely to have your answers, just as you are most likely to have our answers."

"Him?"

"Legato. Legato Bluesummers."

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Dark, so dark.

Help?

Too dark.

Why are you here?

Where...

Death. Nothing but death all around him. An empty field... a field of skeletons. Eyeless skulls, endless skulls, grinning skulls. The dull gleam of bone picked clean. And ravens... Endless flocks of ravens, circling, circling. Circling forever, and crying far harsher than he had ever. Circling forever. Ever. Circling.

The man awoke from his dream suddenly, his mind flashing through the memories of what had been. Death? No, not any longer. Not for him. A savage grin split his countenance, as he reviewed that last thought. Death? Hell, he was immortal! He was a fucking god! The smile dropped, revealing what he'd hidden underneath. The pain in his eyes belied any smile he could dredge from the pits of his soul. Some god, he thought angrily. Some god you are, you can't even save yourself, let alone those who trust you.

With that, the man began to cry, his shoulders shaking in the effort to keep the sorrow as quiet as possible. Some god... Some fucking god you are... You're no god, you're an avenging angel without a cause. You're an angel of death, face it. You'll be the one to kill this world.

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Knives led Wolfwood out the door of his study and into the corridor, leaving his drink on a bureau they passed. As they walked, Wolfwood studied Knives. Knives had obviously noticed how much Legato's name had shaken him, but he hadn't said anything. The man didn't seem to want any involvement in the proceedings, and it was apparent he had no choice in the matter. What could have drawn him in, Wolfwood wondered. But if Nicholas D. Wolfwood expressed any curiosity, it would take him deeper in, and all he wanted was to get out. Of course, sometimes the only way out is through the other side.

As they went down the stairs towards the hallway, there was a knock. Despite himself, Wolfwood jumped. Who would be knocking at this hour? Tales of the Gung-ho Guns flashed through his head, thankfully leaving as soon as they arrived. Murder, dismemberment, a family crucified for an unknown purpose... He shuddered.

Knives glanced back at him, his brow furrowing in disconcertment. "Who-?"

From the servant's quarters a voice sounded out, "Who could it be at this hour?" An older gentleman appeared in the doorway in his nightclothes, blinking owlishly in the light. "There's around twenty guards patrolling, how did someone get by?"

"Just answer it, Harold," a woman's voice came from the other room, "If they got this far, they aren't armed."

Wolfwood raised an eyebrow at Knives, who had stopped on the landing and surveyed the conversation with a critical eye. He glanced back at the man in red before returning his gaze to the front door, "I hired protection to keep civilians out of the way." He sighed, "It was because I never knew how far the Gung-ho Guns would go to gain my cooperation. I felt that if there was an insulating layer between myself and the city, well, it might just be safer that way."

"So do you think this is the Gung-ho Guns?" Wolfwood didn't breathe as he waited for an answer. Below them, Harold had pulled on a bathrobe and was opening the door.

"If it is, there's nothing we can do. Unless you're a fighter as well?" Knives tone was resigned, but not incredibly fearful. "This isn't their normal style."

Readying a gun in case, Wolfwood prepared himself for whoever was on the other side of the door. He almost laughed when after all his preparation the door swung open soundlessly to reveal a petite woman on the doorstep. An incredibly familiar, petite woman. One that he was almost absolutely sure was not a member of the Gung-ho Guns. And quite ironically, just about the last person he'd expected to see on the doorstep this night.

Before the butler could get a proper introduction out, the woman had raced in, frantically glancing around before spotting Wolfwood and Knives. After locating them, she dove for the stairs, taking them two at a time. Although Wolfwood had lowered his weapon upon seeing who was at the door, he still kept it out. The insurance girl was definitely acting out of character tonight, and he suspected that it had something to do with the recent developments in his search.

Stopping in front of Knives, she paused a moment to glance over at Wolfwood suspiciously (and, he suspected, a little angrily) before introducing herself. "Mr. Millions, I am Meryl Strife of the Bernardelli Insurance Society, and I come with a message."

Knives, who was completely unprepared for this sudden appearance, was doing his best not to glance around wildly. Smirking at having the upper hand temporarily, Wolfwood eased his mind. "Don't worry, I can verify this."

Meryl glared at him venomously. Turning back to Knives, she continued, "I bring a message and a warning from the--" now she was nervous, "--the Gung-ho Guns. Millie Thompson sends her regards and says that the Gung-ho Guns do not appreciate being left out of situations that involve them." Closing her eyes as she said this last portion, it was evident she was reciting words that had been burned into her memory. After the last bit, she opened them once more and stared hard into Knives' eyes. "I am to stay around you two, and aid you in whatever it is that you are doing. If I do not..." There was another of those pauses, in which she worked to articulate Millie Thompson's threat. "If I don't, innocents will die, and I can't live with that. I know that you can't trust me, but please..." Her eyes were pleading now, and Knives couldn't handle it alone any more.

"Nicholas--" he started.

"Wolfwood," he corrected automatically, watching Meryl's reaction carefully. Her face went blank. He could imagine what she was thinking right now. Nicholas? Wolfwood?

"Okay, Wolfwood. Can you trust her? Do you know for sure that she's not a Gung-ho Gun?"

Meryl glanced back at Knives, then at Wolfwood. Her face was varying between looks of shock, confusion, and anger. "I am not a Gung-ho Gun. I have been following Vash for several months now. I am, as I said before, an insurance representative." Her face darkened, "Or at least, that's all I was until a few minutes ago."

"Vash?" Knives was surprised.

"She means me, and yes, she is telling the truth." Wolfwood turned to the butler, who had been staring at this exchange for several minutes now. "You can shut the door and go back to bed now." The man nodded once before following the advice quickly and scurrying out of the room.

"So, she's telling the truth, and the Gung-ho Guns not only know you are here, but they also have a ready stand-in right here?" Knives' voice sounded vaguely panicked.

"I'm not a ready stand-in," Meryl growled, "If I had it my way, I'd still be tailing him in the desert instead of being responsible for the lives of people I don't and probably won't ever know. I love danger, but only if it involves me. I don't make it a habit to gamble with other people's lives."

"And I'm supposed to trust the word of a stranger? A stranger, who I might add, has incredibly lucky timing."

"I was watching you from across the courtyard. I followed you from the bar. You're not that hard to track, Mr. Millions."

"Stop it, you two!" Wolfwood's voice cracked like a whip through their argument. "You sound like children. This isn't getting us anywhere. Knives, you said it yourself, the Gung-ho Guns could kill us all if they wanted to." Knives nodded. "They don't want us dead, so let's work at figuring out why."

"That's easy, because they want Vash. That's all they've ever wanted." Knives glared at Meryl once more before continuing, "What Millie Thompson wants is a whole other question."

"Vash?! But he's--" Now Meryl was really confused, "Isn't he?!"

"Nicholas D. Wolfwood, at your service." He extended his hand, which the dumbstruck Meryl Stryfe took. "This is indeed Vash's coat, however, I am not the Humanoid Typhoon. Knives Millions is his brother though."

"But... two months... wasted..." Meryl mumbled incoherently.

"Better than seven years," Wolfwood sighed, "At least we're acting like reasonable adults now. Now, what was that about a warning from the Gung-ho Guns?"

Meryl shivered slightly. "SHE did it while I was on the ledge. I never heard a sound. One minute the guard below me was enjoying a cigarette, and the next..." She brushed her hair out of her eyes absently before finishing. "Well, I saw parts of what she did as I crossed the courtyard. There's no one left out there." Her eyes flashed once before becoming sad once more, "She would have killed me as well, except her sense of aesthetics wanted me to be a messenger. She found it amusing, I suppose."

Knives watched Meryl recall her conversation with the killer. She wasn't faking her emotions, he could tell. She was experiencing something that few did, a flashback to a meeting with Millie Thompson. With this revelation, he realized that he could sympathize with her on at least this point. He would trust her, for now. But he would also keep an eye on her.

Wolfwood, upon hearing of Millie's 'note,' had fallen into a deep silence. Meryl watched them both, her face one of alternating despair and anger. "What do we do now?" she finally asked.

"What we were doing before you interrupted us." Knives sighed, hoping he wasn't making a mistake.

"Which was?"

"We're off to see someone who has an interest in this." Knives glanced over at Wolfwood. "I think you know him, in some form at least. He is, well, he is someone who tends to leave impressions upon those he visits."

Wolfwood nodded once, "Yes. Legato." The name seemed full of promise and power. Legato. Legato Bluesummers, the child of his dreams.

"Who is Legato?" Meryl watched them.

Knives frowned slightly as he thought about that question. "The question is more of, who isn't Legato?" Seeing that this response didn't answer any questions, he added, "He is the only one who can tell the whole story of July, from the beginning to its tragic end."

"Why is that?" Now Wolfwood was even more curious.

"Because he was in the middle when it was destroyed."

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< br> Author's Note: Hmm... if the door knock scene seems a little odd, well I had to get SOMEONE to open the door eventually. If it had been me, I wouldn't have opened it for the world, but hey, I'm not Harold the butler. And I think I'm a chapter behind what I planned. I actually had a Legato-meeting set for this chapter, but it didn't work out that way. Oh well, there's always next chapter. Oh, and this is a bigger chapter, like you asked.:) I actually was worried a couple chapters back that I was getting too windy.