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It took him about half an hour to get back to town. He stumbled most of the way, his thick glasses hiding his glazed expression and the pain in his eyes. As if the first two major developments of the day hadn't been enough, he now had this to deal with, and he was asking questions that he doubted he would ever get answers to. Wolfwood was, had been, here. He had just talked to Wolfwood. Wolfwood was dead. Those two facts in tandem were alone enough to make his head hurt. And then there was the implication that something was happening, and that he probably would once more be the last person to know. Most importantly, he knew that any attempt to pick up the pieces and restore some semblance of a normal life here would fail. His life was shattered and there was nothing he could do about it.
After walking for what had been, in his opinion, too damn long alone with his thoughts, Vash finally reached the house - that was all it was now, it was not his home anymore. He was greeted by Lina, still quietly sobbing. Then she saw his face. "What's wrong, Ericks? You look as if you've seen a ghost." Vash sighed. "Oh, you don't know the half of it." You're more right than you may ever know, he thought. He stepped inside the familiar comfort of the house, and found that there were currently a good 30 or 40 people in it. It was obvious why they were all here, and it was no big surprise in such a small town as this. Everyone was so close here. He searched for the crowd, his eyes scanning for friends, but there were so many people he gave up after a few seconds. Then he remembered Milly. He wanted so bad to tell someone about what had just happened, but could she take it? He could tell that she had definitely matured since he left her all those years ago, but he still wasn't sure how she would react, so he decided not to tell her. Instead, he merged into the crowd, giving the occasional wave, saying the occasional hello, and accepting the overwhelming amounts of sympathetic comments. After a few hours, the people finally started to filter out, leaving Lina and Vash alone. *** It was a beautiful funeral, really. In some dark, perverse way, Vash found it actually felt good to be around others who shared his pain. Lina's grandmother was placed in a beautiful casket, adorned with Lina's carvings. Prayers were said, a service was given, the grave was dug, and people cried. When it was all over, and everybody had gone home, Vash stayed behind at the church. Vash had never considered himself a religious man, but he did have beliefs. Nevertheless, he didn't like churches, at least not any longer. They didn't have that air of serenity that they used to; instead they only reminded him of pain and death. He remembered so clearly the day he went into that church and found his best friend there, lying dead. He remembered the terror, the grief that overcame him at that moment. He couldn't cry, he couldn't scream, he could only stare in disbelief. After that day, he couldn't take churches anymore. But today was different, mostly because of the events on the cliff a few days back. All the memories came back, but they seemed different now. No matter how bad an example Wolfwood had been, he was a priest. That was obviously for a reason, and a church would probably be his place of peace. That was what he was hoping today. Whatever was happening, he wanted to know. There was obviously a reason that Vash couldn't die. Even though Wolfwood was his friend, dead people are dead and they don't come back. Well, at least not without a really good reason. He knew he'd be seeing him again, that point was made fairly obvious, he thought. So here he waited, and here he hoped. Here in the church, where he could lose himself in his thoughts. These days, that wasn't a good thing, but he felt it was something he had to do. And he prayed. This was something he had rarely done before, but at this point it seemed appropriate. He eventually lost track of time - minutes, hours, he didn't know. And then, suddenly, he was there. The man he had been waiting for. Nicholas D. Wolfwood. There was no surprise in Vash's eyes this time, and no fear as he saw his friend approach him. Wolfwood smiled slightly and spoke. "I knew you'd be here." "I knew you'd come." "You did, did you?" There was an almost goofy grin on his face. "What would you say if I told you I'd been here watching you the whole time?" "It wouldn't surprise me a bit," Vash laughed. "You haven't changed at all." Wolfwood's face fell. "I don't exactly take that as a compliment. But anyways, if you can't guess, I'm here for a reason." Vash nodded, and stood up from the pew where he had been waiting. "First, do you mind telling me what you are? You said I'd know when it's time. Are you a ghost?" He took a step forward, and Wolfwood took a step back. He clutched his ragged black cloak tighter around his shoulders. "Not a ghost, an angel. Not a title I deserve, really. But now you know, can I tell you why I'm here, Tongari?" Vash desperately wanted to speak, with so many questions to ask, but he forced himself not to. This was probably much more important. He nodded, and Wolfwood took a deep breath and spoke. "Knives is alive." The hope and the joy in Vash's eyes were unmistakable. "And you have to kill him."
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