Not Lost, Nor Faded

"Oh, you have a choice, alright. You kill him or he kills everybody. Simple choice if you ask me."

"Answer me this. Whose choice do you think it is, and how do you think I got here?"

Wolfwood's words haunted his mind. It had to be real, it had to be important, and it had to be done. But could he find the strength to take the one life he would give nearly anything to save?

He sighed and rolled over on to his stomach, propping himself up with his arms. He brushed his long bangs out of his eyes, not that there was really anything to see but a worn old wall. Wolfwood had silently slipped away that afternoon while he was crying; he didn't know if he'd see him again. Somehow, he thought he would. There was more to this story than he had heard so far - saying he had to kill Knives was one thing, but since he hadn't been able to find him before (thus leading to the presumption that he was dead) he didn't know if he could find him now. He sighed again, thoroughly baffled. He was now dealing with things he couldn't hope to understand. Wolfwood had come back, somehow. For him? For someone else? Why?

"What would you say if I told you I'd been here watching you the whole time?"

"What did that mean?" he quietly wondered aloud, "Just that time in the church, or longer than that? For seven years? I wouldn't be surprised if he was watching me right now�"

"Hah, smart. You're on to me."

Vash shrieked and fell off the bed. Panting, he glanced up at Wolfwood. "Don't� sneak up on me� like that�" he said breathlessly, struggling to sit up. Wolfwood looked unruffled.

"I'm sorry� did I scare you?" he said teasingly. Vash looked indignant. Wolfwood ignored him and continued. "What happened to hello?" He paused waiting for a response, but Vash was disregarding him in favour rubbing his apparently bruised arm. "So, do you want an answer?"

"To what?"

"Your questions. About Knives� About me, too." He shrugged. Vash nodded slowly, not so sure he wanted to know, but too curious not to ask.

"Well, I might as well answer your more recent question first� I've been watching you on and off since the day I died."

"On and off?"

"Well, yeah. You're not the main reason I'm here. At least, that wasn't the plan�" Vash attempted a look of comprehension, and failed miserably. Wolfwood sighed and sat down next to Vash on the floor. "Perhaps I should explain."

He looked to Vash for an answer, and received a quiet "yeah," so he continued.

"I never told you about my past, did I? Well, to make a long story short, I wasn't exactly one of the good guys. I was� I was a gung-ho gun." He hung his head in shame, and tried to ignore Vash's shocked expression. "I was supposed to stay with you, protect you, bring you back to Knives alive. Be your friend. Those were my orders. And yet� after a while they didn't matter anymore. You were my friend; possibly the first true friend I ever had. So when the orders changed and I had to kill you� I couldn't. Chapel - the man who trained me; also a gung-ho gun - came to kill you as well. I had a score to settle with him after all he'd done to me, and I had a chance to kill him but I didn't. I let him go, but then�" There was hatred in his eyes, now. "Legato. Chapel was also going to let me survive, but Legato took over, controlled his actions, and made him take my life.

"I got though the battle, but I didn't have much time left. No chance at survival, really. I could go to you and the girls for help and die among friends, or die alone. I chose the latter, because there was something I had to do. The church where you found me� I went there to make a confession before I died." A silent tear ran down his cheek. "You were right, Vash. You were right all along. I just realized it a little too late." Vash put a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder. Wolfwood forced himself to smile and continue.

"Of course, that's not where the story ends. In fact, you might say that's were it begins." He stood up from the floor, and assumed an arguably more comfortable position sitting on the edge of the bed. Vash followed suit, and Wolfwood resumed his story.

"And so, I died, and I found myself� in heaven. Although it didn't seem as such at first." He frowned. "First, I had to face all the people I killed. Hardest thing I ever did. I deserved it though. I'd done so much wrong, and I knew it. I wanted so badly to go back and make everything right again, but that wasn't an option, was it?

"But soon, I came to discover where I was. Paradise. A place with no war, and no stealing. A place I didn't deserve to be. I had been forgiven, but I couldn't - I can't - forgive myself. I guess that's the problem when realizations come too late." He covered his face with his hands, trying to restrain himself from breaking down in tears. "So something was� worked out. I wanted to come back, and I was allowed to come like this. It wasn't the way things usually were done, but I wasn't a usual case, I guess. People who do the kind of things I did don't often see the error of their ways at the last minute. People like me don't tend to repent.

"I made it my mission to help the children. They still mean so much to me. Of course, there are rules to follow and I can't always save them all. It hurts; it hurts a lot." He turned his head to face Vash. His slate-grey eyes were full of pain. "Now I think I know� how you felt. When you couldn't save everyone, I mean. Even though some lives aren't meant to be saved, it still hurts." For a second, Vash thought that his friend was going to start crying, but Wolfwood quickly shook it off and continued his story.

"It was my second chance. Not another life, per say, but at least I could make a positive difference. Still, nothing I can do can possibly make up for all the lives I took. Nothing at all." He paused for a second to consider. "One day, maybe I'll come to forgive myself. But there are people I miss. I miss you, the girls..." He stopped, realizing he was getting off track, composed himself, and resumed. "I don't know how much of this I'm supposed to be telling you. You seem to be taking this pretty well, all things considered. I mean, seeing as I'm dead and all�" Vash shrugged, and leaned back on the bed, searching for the right words.

"Well, I was kinda shocked at first, if you couldn't tell. But considering my life, 'weird' really doesn't phase me anymore." Wolfwood nodded and both men sat in silent reflection for a minute or two. Then suddenly, Wolfwood shot up from his seat and screamed.

"SHIT!"

"What? What is it?" Vash was brought back to reality by the sudden cry. He was vaguely disturbed by Wolfwood's panicked look, and felt that he had reason to be.

"Alright," he said, feverishly attempting to compose himself. "I was also supposed to tell you about Knives. Like I said before, I had to tell you this� and I was supposed to help you� but I forgot�" He stumbled over his words.

"Forgot what?" Any happiness Vash had received from seeing his friend again was tainted by the knowledge of his brother, but he had momentarily forgotten that when hearing Wolfwood's sad tale.

"Well, you were worried about finding him, right?" Vash nodded slowly, not quite sure where this was heading.

"I was supposed to warn you. Knives is here." Shit, there was that shocked, blank expression again. Wolfwood silently cursed his own bluntness. "Here. Like, in this town. Right now." Not even considering the reasons or the consequences, Vash leapt up from the bed and sprinted out the door and on to the street.

***

This was a nice saloon, Lina decided. Despite living in the same town for years, she had never entered the seemingly seedy bar - until today, that is. She wasn't a drinker, either. She didn't like the taste much, or something. She actually couldn't remember at this point. Because now, when she was trying desperately to forget her grief and focus on Vash, drinking had never seemed better. She had never been drunk before, and had a feeling that that same statement would not apply in few hours.

She recognised the bartender, and he, in turn, recognised her - and was in fact beginning to look reasonably worried - partially because he knew of her current situation, and partially because he recognised the lost-in-thought look, which always meant depression of some sort. This was understandable, but still worrisome.

Lina's lost-in-thought look was, in actual fact, a combination of depression and genuinely being lost in thought. It all came together rather quickly, with the knowledge she had acquired from Milly. She could remember clearly, now. How all those years ago she came across the battered man lying in the alley. The scars, the arm. His friend the preacher. How they rescued her from the bandits. Questions that had been forming in her mind for years faded with ease. And yet still more formed, and she doubted answers would ever come. Who was Vash, really? Did even he know? Her concentration was cut off by the creaking sound of the saloon doors.

She glanced briefly up at the man who had just entered, planning to go back to her beverage momentarily, but her gaze stuck. The man was tall and fair-haired, and in spite of his confident saunter, his gaze flickered like that of someone who expected the barstools to leap up and attack him. He was nervous, that was for sure. He was trying to look all high and mighty, but he was most definitely nervous. Lina barely noticed this fact, however, because - and maybe this train of thought was the alcohol's fault - he was QUITE good looking.

He ambled over to the stool next to Lina and took a seat, his expression lingering somewhere between a twisted smile and a sneer. He soon noticed her stare, and regarded her with a look vaguely approaching interest before turning the other way and looking to the street. Lina felt slightly betrayed. There was something somewhat enchanting about his ice-blue eyes, something that made her forget everything else. She was aware that her thinking was completely irrational at this point, but after a few vague attempts, she couldn't force herself to care. He realised that this man reminded her a little of Erick - of Vash. She had to remember that his name was Vash. But this man was quite like him, in looks if not personality. Not that she really knew anything about this mystery man's personality apart from the fact that he was very nervous. She suspected he was looking for someone. She said so.

He turned his head, and met her gaze. "And how did you know that?" He asked, with sharpness and urgency penetrating his voice. She drew back in surprise. "Oh, nothing, I just suspected�" She smiled ridiculously. "You REALLY remind me of somebody, you know that?" This managed to pique his interest.

"Oh, really? And who might this person be?" He stood up, with a purposeful look.

"Come see." Lina's giggle turned into a hiccup halfway through. With a goofy grin on her face, she took the stranger's hand and led him out the door, and was startled to find that she was closer to her target than she had been aware. Vash was standing just a few feet away in front of her, with a strange, panicked look on his face. And when he noticed the man beside her, he stepped back, eyes wide.

"You," He whispered. Knives smiled broadly, yet somewhat evilly.

"Hello, dear brother. What a pleasant surprise."