Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ You Made Me ❯ Chapter 1

Untitled.

Warnings: Angst, spoilers for ep. 26 and all sorts of happy shiny things.

“You made me believe.”

It was finished. They were finished. Done. Over. End game. The dirt held trapped by Vash’s clenched fingers dug into his palm, marking skin despite the protection of Thomas-hide gloves. There was something just so finalizing about covering a man in dirt. But now that it was done, Vash couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he’d made some sort of terrible mistake. Was it really over? There was a small irrational voice in the back of Vash’s head that said no.

The voice said to dig. Just dig. Vash’s fist tightened and against loose sand and rock as he shook his head. The grit there marked his forehead just as surely as it marked his palm. There was nothing down there for him anymore. Just a body; A corpse that would dry up and dry out and become the sand he held in his fist. The thatch of untamed, dark hair, the wide expanse of sun darkened skin, storm cloud eyes, agile hands and the hawk-like nose. Dust.

Never again would rough fingertips play over naked skin. Nor would that gravelly tenor strain an octave too high as it gasped out suddenly in pleasure. Or burst into peals untamed, child-like laughter. The curved indentation of navel and jutting hipbones. The feral, reckless grin-- All of it gone. Vash couldn’t just---He couldn‘t just walk away like that, could he? What if he had made a mistake? What if he’d been wrong?

What if..

He was up to his elbows in loose dirt before he realized that in a panic he had frantically begun to dig. With a lurch, he drew himself upright. His hands, that had been moving of their own will, he held clutched tightly to his chest. A detached voice that Vash vaguely recognized as being his own told him that he was starting to scare the others; Only there were no others. It was only the dead man and himself; And it was himself that Vash was starting to scare.

How long he sat there trying to regulate the erratic wheezing of his lungs, Vash did not know; Only that as he stared wildly out at the dunes surrounding him hot tears began to well up and spill down his dust-streaked face. Willing to trust the mechanized limb, Vash moved to roughly scrub the wetness away.

“Damn you.” He whispered, though he didn’t quite know to whom he spoke to. Perhaps it was himself he spoke to, or maybe even to the dead man. More likely to those forces who had conspired to take Nicholas away from him. “Damn you, damn you. God damn you to hell.” He reiterated bitterly, then paused. God. Nicholas’ God. God had taken Nicholas away just as much as the bullets had. Well damn him, damn him, damn him!

“And damn you too!” Vash spat vehemently, smashing his fist into the dirt. He was yelling at the body he’d buried in the ground now. As if it were still a living, breathing thing. “You’re a fucking liar, Nicholas! You LIED to me!” He was roaring now as he flung his fists into the ground. “You lied! You promised you’d come back to me, you said you wouldn’t leave me!” And as quickly as Vash’s anger had flared up, it gutted out. Silent he stared vaguely at a bit of canvas that whipped in the wind like a banner.

A flag of surrender for them both.

“You said you wouldn’t leave me.” He choked out at length. If Vash had been expecting some sort of sign from the heavens that someone listened, it never came. The finality of it forced a bitter chuckle from Vash’s chapped lips. It was over. Nicholas was dead; And Vash, longing to crawl down into the earth with him could do little more than curse his unnatural long life.