Moonrise over Rome
Title: Moonrise over Rome
Author/Artist: hellzabeth
Characters and Pairing: Vash, Gabriel, Peter, a few Swiss guards, many others mentioned.
Rating: PG?
Warnings: Vash talks like he's 500 years old occasionally.
Blame: ... myself and Megkips for encouraging me.
Summary: Vash's curse and the life he leads with it.
New
Vash was dead.
And then he wasn’t.
For a few long minutes, he lay where he was, gasping in precious air into empty lungs, wide green eyes staring at an unfamiliar white ceiling. His heart hammered in his chest in uneven rhythms, getting used to moving again. His hands gripped the sheets, white knuckled and trembling. Blonde hair was plastered to his forehead with the cold sweat he’d broken out into. A dry tongue swept out over cracked lips.
“Do you want some water?”
He tried not to scream too loudly at the sudden voice, sitting up in bed and nearly falling off the side. He stared at the intruder, feeling for a weapon but finding none. The man across from him was young, of about five and twenty, with tanned skin and long, dark hair. He seemed unsurprised by Vash’s reaction, and held in his outstretched hand a glass of water.
“You were quite feverish.” he said, and though he wasn’t speaking Swiss German or even German at all, Vash understood him. “You’ll probably want to drink this before you faint.”
The world was indeed starting to twist and tilt, and for some reason Vash felt he could trust this man. So, with shaking hands he took the water, and greedily started gulping it down. The man watched him, soft olive eyes not judgemental or analytical, but simply interested, maybe concerned.
“How much do you remember, Vash?” he asked, voice soft like he was talking to a child. Vash bristled. He was fifteen; not a child any more. He’d even had a job herding goats before...
“My sister, where is she?” he demanded immediately, finding himself able to fluently use the language that the other man did. The man’s face lit up.
“Oh good, you’ve retained your knowledge of English this time. There was one incident where you would speak nothing but 500 year old Swiss German and nobody could understand anything you said.” there was a slight laugh to his voice, like he was remembering an old joke. He hadn’t answered Vash’s question.
“Where is she? Where’s Heidi?” with the water starting to rehydrate him, he swung his legs off the bed and leaned forward, trying to make himself appear threatening. The more he stared at this man’s face, the more familiar he looked. But he was certain he’d never seen anyone with such dark skin in his life.
Olive eyes became pitying. “I’m afraid your sister... I’m sorry Vash, you can’t see her any more.” he said quietly. “She’s gone to a place beyond your reach.”
The heart that had barely just got it’s rhythm back skipped a beat. “No... it can’t be....” A whirl of colours whizzed through his mind; the last memories he had of where he’d been. Fighting, he was fighting against numerous opponents, with a sword and a slingshot as his only weapons. He’d been overpowered and...
He’d lost his sister.
“It pains me to tell you every time I have to.” said the other man, sounding sincere in his words. “And the worst thing is that it’s not going to get better, because every time you come even close to terms with it, you have to start again.” He sighed. “The Fair Folk aren’t exactly fair, are they?”
“No.” Vash mumbled, gripping the sheets. “No, they’re not.”
A long, quiet moment passed. There were strange sounds outside, but Vash paid them no heed. The man stood from the wooden chair he’d been occupying, the legs scraping across the floor.
“Well, I’m going to go get breakfast. Come down to the canteen any time you feel ready. And don’t worry about knowing the way; as long as you don’t think about it too hard, your feet will take you there.” He flashed him a small smile, opening the door of the very sparsely decorated room before he seemed to remember something. “Oh. Yes, I should say. I’m Gabriel dos Anjos, hope that jogs your memory a bit.” And with a parting wave, he closed the door.
Gabriel dos Anjos...
Gabriel...
AntonioCarriedoLovinoVargasHeraclesKarpusiIdaDusekLydiaBielyPeterOxenstierna--
Vash pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, names suddenly whirling in his head in a hurricane of triggered memories. Faces matched to names quickly, drawn out of an uncomfortable darkness that he’d only just become aware of. Other things floated to the surface; dates and events and a history that he was never meant to witness.
Hunters.
Ah, yes, he was part of the Hunters.
A steady rock in the tumultuous ocean of time and unchained memories being tossed about like so much sea foam. Every cycle of the moon, another drop in the ocean, and it became harder to separate out who and where and what he was. But the Hunters, they were his solid ground, repetition of events and people that made it easy to decipher this repeating world he lived in.
This damned fae curse. A man of 500 years or more trapped forever in an unending cycle of life and death.
He was lucky to remember that this time.
But still the rest of the memories lurked beneath the inky black waves in his mind, and he dared not dive in after them lest he drown in the overwhelming information.
So instead, Vash got up, changed his clothes, and went to get breakfast.
---
Waxing
March 12th, 2011. Crescent reached.
Vash had very quickly taken to using guns (again) over slingshots (untouched after centuries), and was practicing in the courtyard of the local hunters academy. He still looked young enough to pass for an older student (though granted, everyone knew him) and had yet to miss the bulls eye on the target. He found that, if he just didn’t concentrate at all and let his muscle memory take over, he could aim much more accurately.
“Vash!”
His finger stopped just short of the trigger, and he looked over his shoulder to where a small blond boy - Peter - was bouncing in the doorway. He looked caught between excitement and worry. This could only end badly.
“Bill from the North American Branch is coming over and he’s bringing Anita and-”
“What have I said about using first names for official Hunters, Peter.” Vash grumbled, pocketing his pistols into their usual holsters and slinging his rifle onto his back. Peter shuffled his feet.
“... not to?” he mumbled sheepishly.
“Correct. Start again.” Vash said, turning and letting his feet guide him to Cardinal Vargas’ rooms.
“Okay um Hunter Adams is coming over from the America Branch and he’s bringing Hunter Schmidt and I think she’s bringing Hunter Kauffman and Hunter Martellino and I was reading Hunter Brown’s twitter feed and she said she was coming over too so that means that if Hunter Adams and Hunter Brown are here then Hunter Perez will tag along-”
“How about you tell me who isn’t coming.” Vash interrupted, head whirling with names matching to faces that surfaced out of the inky blackness. Using last names was part of the formality that was afforded to the Hunters - something several flaunted as with so many other rules - but also played the role of triggering memories in a slower manner, rather than all at once, which gave him a headache and the desire to shoot the nearest person. “We’d probably get this done much faster.”
Peter was quiet for a very long time. “Uhhm...”
Vash massaged his temples. Today was going to be a long day.
---
Full
March 19th, 2011. Full moon reached.
There was always a spike in activity around the full moon, and Vash was grateful at least that his curse didn’t put him out of action at this time. In fact, he was in peak condition, which he needed to be just to get every Hunter in the base awake and alert in time for the swell of sightings that had been reported in southern Spain. Granted, if he left it alone the wolves would likely cross the Straight of Gibraltar and become the Africa Branch’s problem, but not before they’d rampaged around the general area, Turning the hapless few in their path into one of them. Which would be against the point of the Hunters existing in the first place.
“But Commander Zwingli-”
However, some people didn’t seem to understand that concept.
“My daughter’s birthday is in a week; if you send me out there now I might not get back in time!” complained the Hunter in front of him. Glancing down at the file, it seemed his name was Rodrigez. Fluent in Spanish, English and French, perfect for this mission. His teammates were similarly qualified. None of them were triggering memories, however. They must be new.
“If you knew that, why didn’t you book the time off?” Vash said coldly, signing the documents and handing them to Rodrigez. He cut over the man before he could reply. “I’m not interested in your complaints. Get it done quick enough and you might make it back on time. Think of it as motivation. Now get going, and send Hunter Anjos in next.”
Rodrigez sloped off, looking irritable, and next through the door came Gabriel, same as ever. Vash didn’t give him any more than a glance.
“Gabriel, do you intend to take Antonio with you on this mission or not?” he asked, flicking through the immortal Hunter’s mission files.
“Well, yes, why?” Gabriel sounded surprised at the question. “You remember-”
“That he’s in fact human and was cursed into cat form, yes, this time I remember.” He pressed down on the stapler and quietly enjoyed the sound it made. “I’m asking only because Cardinal Vargas has seemed extremely stressed lately and it may be beneficial to keep Antonio around for the sake of his nerves.”
“And yours?” Gabriel smirked when Vash shot him a look. “Keeping Lovino calm keeps you calm, I’ve started to notice.”
“When the Cardinal is calm, I can get more work done without his screaming rage in my ears.” Vash shuffled his papers together and handed them to Gabriel. “You’re going to Finland. I know you don’t like cold places, but nobody else will go and we need a single man mission. Think you can handle that?”
Gabriel gave him a mock-salute. “Yes sir, Commander Zwingli.” he smiled. “And I’ll leave Tonio here, he can’t stand going that far north.”
Vash grunted his thanks and went back to his paper work. There would be a whole half hour before the next person was scheduled to show up, so-
“Commander Zwingli!” yelped Peter, colliding with the doorframe as he slid to a stop, breathing hard. “Th-the Research Devision is on fire again!”
No rest for the wicked, in this place.
---
Waning
March 26th, 2011. Crescent reached.
“Again!”
The Swiss Guard dropped immediately into defensive postures, taking up their guns and aiming them precisely before firing at the targets. It took them 2.34 seconds, Vash observed from his stopwatch.
“You were slower this time- Contadino, you’re getting sloppy over there, don’t think I can’t see you!”
The young guard bowed his head, but kept his gun steady as Vash walked past. He had started using his sword, still in it’s sheath, as a walking stick. He’d have used his rifle, but that was pushing it a little. Besides, the sword seemed to be somehow more intimidating to the new recruits; a reminder of times gone past, from which Vash lingered. He was hardly elderly yet, but blonde hair was turning greyer by the day - sometimes by the hour.
Passing by a recruit, he stopped. With a swift smack on the back of his knee, he fell forwards onto the ground with a loud “oof!”. Vash tapped the weak knee again. “Improve your balance; you’re depending too much on your right side, your left is just as important, if not more because you’re naturally weaker there. Protect yourself before you protect others, or else you’ll be useless to everyone.”
The recruit pushed himself back to his feet, wiping the dirt off his face. His eyes were determined. “Yes sir.”
Vash allowed himself a small smirk. “Good. Now get up, we’re doing two more drills before lunch.”
“Yes sir!”
---
New
April 2nd, day before the new moon.
He hated these last days, when his mind slowed and his body ached and his lungs rattled and his heart skipped. He was a young man dying of old age. He’d fallen asleep at his desk twice now, and on one occasion had awoken to find young Alfred Jones strolling around the corridors free as you please. And nobody took him seriously like this. When he’d been lecturing Ida about leaving the serial killer’s door unlocked, she’d just rolled her eyes at him. Probably because she knew she could get away with it; her body was young and Vash’s slow, and by the time he’d got his gun out she would be long gone.
So he was here, writing in a small book that Lydia had bought him, suggesting he note things down, triggers and memories that he would forget as soon as he laid down to sleep tonight.
No, not to sleep. To die.
He would spend a whole day dead, and he never remembered any of it. Frustrating; he would have liked to have taken his glimpse of heaven, or hell, or anywhere.
A glimpse of his sister would do him just fine.
“Vash?”
He’d not noticed he was nodding off again until Gabriel appeared in the doorway to his office. His fellow immortal - ever unchanged, and Vash sometimes envied him that - smiled gently at him and placed a small bag on the table. “I was passing back through Switzerland. I thought you might want something from home.”
There had been no chocolate when Vash had lived in the Swiss Alps, but the thought was appreciated all the same. He gruffly told him so.
“Gabriel.” he said, swallowing a chocolate after allowing it to melt in his mouth. His jaw was getting too weak for chewing. “Do you ever remember your deaths?”
The Hunter pauses in chewing, looking thoughtful. “The closest I’ve ever come to really being dead... was probably when I had my heart quite literally ripped out of my chest.” he said slowly. “And even then, my soul didn’t move on. All I remember is blackness. It wasn’t scary, just... peaceful. I could stay there forever and nothing would change. Like falling asleep.” the two of them shared a look, and Gabriel smiled wryly. “Of course, I wasn’t ready to sleep. And I got quite a rude awakening at that, but, well, I suppose if it were easy being immortal, everyone would do it.”
Vash thought on this for a long time. “Your brother. Had you not become immortal, he would have been stuck as a cat, alone, forever.”
“Had you not gone chasing after the faeries that kidnapped your sister, she would also have been alone, forever.” Gabriel countered. “It’s not pleasant but... it’s better than nothing.”
“Hm.” Vash agreed wordlessly. “... do we always have this talk?”
“Nearly every time.”
Quietly, Vash laughed.
---
Vash was dead.
And then he wasn’t.
Author/Artist: hellzabeth
Characters and Pairing: Vash, Gabriel, Peter, a few Swiss guards, many others mentioned.
Rating: PG?
Warnings: Vash talks like he's 500 years old occasionally.
Blame: ... myself and Megkips for encouraging me.
Summary: Vash's curse and the life he leads with it.
New
Vash was dead.
And then he wasn’t.
For a few long minutes, he lay where he was, gasping in precious air into empty lungs, wide green eyes staring at an unfamiliar white ceiling. His heart hammered in his chest in uneven rhythms, getting used to moving again. His hands gripped the sheets, white knuckled and trembling. Blonde hair was plastered to his forehead with the cold sweat he’d broken out into. A dry tongue swept out over cracked lips.
“Do you want some water?”
He tried not to scream too loudly at the sudden voice, sitting up in bed and nearly falling off the side. He stared at the intruder, feeling for a weapon but finding none. The man across from him was young, of about five and twenty, with tanned skin and long, dark hair. He seemed unsurprised by Vash’s reaction, and held in his outstretched hand a glass of water.
“You were quite feverish.” he said, and though he wasn’t speaking Swiss German or even German at all, Vash understood him. “You’ll probably want to drink this before you faint.”
The world was indeed starting to twist and tilt, and for some reason Vash felt he could trust this man. So, with shaking hands he took the water, and greedily started gulping it down. The man watched him, soft olive eyes not judgemental or analytical, but simply interested, maybe concerned.
“How much do you remember, Vash?” he asked, voice soft like he was talking to a child. Vash bristled. He was fifteen; not a child any more. He’d even had a job herding goats before...
“My sister, where is she?” he demanded immediately, finding himself able to fluently use the language that the other man did. The man’s face lit up.
“Oh good, you’ve retained your knowledge of English this time. There was one incident where you would speak nothing but 500 year old Swiss German and nobody could understand anything you said.” there was a slight laugh to his voice, like he was remembering an old joke. He hadn’t answered Vash’s question.
“Where is she? Where’s Heidi?” with the water starting to rehydrate him, he swung his legs off the bed and leaned forward, trying to make himself appear threatening. The more he stared at this man’s face, the more familiar he looked. But he was certain he’d never seen anyone with such dark skin in his life.
Olive eyes became pitying. “I’m afraid your sister... I’m sorry Vash, you can’t see her any more.” he said quietly. “She’s gone to a place beyond your reach.”
The heart that had barely just got it’s rhythm back skipped a beat. “No... it can’t be....” A whirl of colours whizzed through his mind; the last memories he had of where he’d been. Fighting, he was fighting against numerous opponents, with a sword and a slingshot as his only weapons. He’d been overpowered and...
He’d lost his sister.
“It pains me to tell you every time I have to.” said the other man, sounding sincere in his words. “And the worst thing is that it’s not going to get better, because every time you come even close to terms with it, you have to start again.” He sighed. “The Fair Folk aren’t exactly fair, are they?”
“No.” Vash mumbled, gripping the sheets. “No, they’re not.”
A long, quiet moment passed. There were strange sounds outside, but Vash paid them no heed. The man stood from the wooden chair he’d been occupying, the legs scraping across the floor.
“Well, I’m going to go get breakfast. Come down to the canteen any time you feel ready. And don’t worry about knowing the way; as long as you don’t think about it too hard, your feet will take you there.” He flashed him a small smile, opening the door of the very sparsely decorated room before he seemed to remember something. “Oh. Yes, I should say. I’m Gabriel dos Anjos, hope that jogs your memory a bit.” And with a parting wave, he closed the door.
Gabriel dos Anjos...
Gabriel...
AntonioCarriedoLovinoVargasHeraclesKarpusiIdaDusekLydiaBielyPeterOxenstierna--
Vash pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, names suddenly whirling in his head in a hurricane of triggered memories. Faces matched to names quickly, drawn out of an uncomfortable darkness that he’d only just become aware of. Other things floated to the surface; dates and events and a history that he was never meant to witness.
Hunters.
Ah, yes, he was part of the Hunters.
A steady rock in the tumultuous ocean of time and unchained memories being tossed about like so much sea foam. Every cycle of the moon, another drop in the ocean, and it became harder to separate out who and where and what he was. But the Hunters, they were his solid ground, repetition of events and people that made it easy to decipher this repeating world he lived in.
This damned fae curse. A man of 500 years or more trapped forever in an unending cycle of life and death.
He was lucky to remember that this time.
But still the rest of the memories lurked beneath the inky black waves in his mind, and he dared not dive in after them lest he drown in the overwhelming information.
So instead, Vash got up, changed his clothes, and went to get breakfast.
---
Waxing
March 12th, 2011. Crescent reached.
Vash had very quickly taken to using guns (again) over slingshots (untouched after centuries), and was practicing in the courtyard of the local hunters academy. He still looked young enough to pass for an older student (though granted, everyone knew him) and had yet to miss the bulls eye on the target. He found that, if he just didn’t concentrate at all and let his muscle memory take over, he could aim much more accurately.
“Vash!”
His finger stopped just short of the trigger, and he looked over his shoulder to where a small blond boy - Peter - was bouncing in the doorway. He looked caught between excitement and worry. This could only end badly.
“Bill from the North American Branch is coming over and he’s bringing Anita and-”
“What have I said about using first names for official Hunters, Peter.” Vash grumbled, pocketing his pistols into their usual holsters and slinging his rifle onto his back. Peter shuffled his feet.
“... not to?” he mumbled sheepishly.
“Correct. Start again.” Vash said, turning and letting his feet guide him to Cardinal Vargas’ rooms.
“Okay um Hunter Adams is coming over from the America Branch and he’s bringing Hunter Schmidt and I think she’s bringing Hunter Kauffman and Hunter Martellino and I was reading Hunter Brown’s twitter feed and she said she was coming over too so that means that if Hunter Adams and Hunter Brown are here then Hunter Perez will tag along-”
“How about you tell me who isn’t coming.” Vash interrupted, head whirling with names matching to faces that surfaced out of the inky blackness. Using last names was part of the formality that was afforded to the Hunters - something several flaunted as with so many other rules - but also played the role of triggering memories in a slower manner, rather than all at once, which gave him a headache and the desire to shoot the nearest person. “We’d probably get this done much faster.”
Peter was quiet for a very long time. “Uhhm...”
Vash massaged his temples. Today was going to be a long day.
---
Full
March 19th, 2011. Full moon reached.
There was always a spike in activity around the full moon, and Vash was grateful at least that his curse didn’t put him out of action at this time. In fact, he was in peak condition, which he needed to be just to get every Hunter in the base awake and alert in time for the swell of sightings that had been reported in southern Spain. Granted, if he left it alone the wolves would likely cross the Straight of Gibraltar and become the Africa Branch’s problem, but not before they’d rampaged around the general area, Turning the hapless few in their path into one of them. Which would be against the point of the Hunters existing in the first place.
“But Commander Zwingli-”
However, some people didn’t seem to understand that concept.
“My daughter’s birthday is in a week; if you send me out there now I might not get back in time!” complained the Hunter in front of him. Glancing down at the file, it seemed his name was Rodrigez. Fluent in Spanish, English and French, perfect for this mission. His teammates were similarly qualified. None of them were triggering memories, however. They must be new.
“If you knew that, why didn’t you book the time off?” Vash said coldly, signing the documents and handing them to Rodrigez. He cut over the man before he could reply. “I’m not interested in your complaints. Get it done quick enough and you might make it back on time. Think of it as motivation. Now get going, and send Hunter Anjos in next.”
Rodrigez sloped off, looking irritable, and next through the door came Gabriel, same as ever. Vash didn’t give him any more than a glance.
“Gabriel, do you intend to take Antonio with you on this mission or not?” he asked, flicking through the immortal Hunter’s mission files.
“Well, yes, why?” Gabriel sounded surprised at the question. “You remember-”
“That he’s in fact human and was cursed into cat form, yes, this time I remember.” He pressed down on the stapler and quietly enjoyed the sound it made. “I’m asking only because Cardinal Vargas has seemed extremely stressed lately and it may be beneficial to keep Antonio around for the sake of his nerves.”
“And yours?” Gabriel smirked when Vash shot him a look. “Keeping Lovino calm keeps you calm, I’ve started to notice.”
“When the Cardinal is calm, I can get more work done without his screaming rage in my ears.” Vash shuffled his papers together and handed them to Gabriel. “You’re going to Finland. I know you don’t like cold places, but nobody else will go and we need a single man mission. Think you can handle that?”
Gabriel gave him a mock-salute. “Yes sir, Commander Zwingli.” he smiled. “And I’ll leave Tonio here, he can’t stand going that far north.”
Vash grunted his thanks and went back to his paper work. There would be a whole half hour before the next person was scheduled to show up, so-
“Commander Zwingli!” yelped Peter, colliding with the doorframe as he slid to a stop, breathing hard. “Th-the Research Devision is on fire again!”
No rest for the wicked, in this place.
---
Waning
March 26th, 2011. Crescent reached.
“Again!”
The Swiss Guard dropped immediately into defensive postures, taking up their guns and aiming them precisely before firing at the targets. It took them 2.34 seconds, Vash observed from his stopwatch.
“You were slower this time- Contadino, you’re getting sloppy over there, don’t think I can’t see you!”
The young guard bowed his head, but kept his gun steady as Vash walked past. He had started using his sword, still in it’s sheath, as a walking stick. He’d have used his rifle, but that was pushing it a little. Besides, the sword seemed to be somehow more intimidating to the new recruits; a reminder of times gone past, from which Vash lingered. He was hardly elderly yet, but blonde hair was turning greyer by the day - sometimes by the hour.
Passing by a recruit, he stopped. With a swift smack on the back of his knee, he fell forwards onto the ground with a loud “oof!”. Vash tapped the weak knee again. “Improve your balance; you’re depending too much on your right side, your left is just as important, if not more because you’re naturally weaker there. Protect yourself before you protect others, or else you’ll be useless to everyone.”
The recruit pushed himself back to his feet, wiping the dirt off his face. His eyes were determined. “Yes sir.”
Vash allowed himself a small smirk. “Good. Now get up, we’re doing two more drills before lunch.”
“Yes sir!”
---
New
April 2nd, day before the new moon.
He hated these last days, when his mind slowed and his body ached and his lungs rattled and his heart skipped. He was a young man dying of old age. He’d fallen asleep at his desk twice now, and on one occasion had awoken to find young Alfred Jones strolling around the corridors free as you please. And nobody took him seriously like this. When he’d been lecturing Ida about leaving the serial killer’s door unlocked, she’d just rolled her eyes at him. Probably because she knew she could get away with it; her body was young and Vash’s slow, and by the time he’d got his gun out she would be long gone.
So he was here, writing in a small book that Lydia had bought him, suggesting he note things down, triggers and memories that he would forget as soon as he laid down to sleep tonight.
No, not to sleep. To die.
He would spend a whole day dead, and he never remembered any of it. Frustrating; he would have liked to have taken his glimpse of heaven, or hell, or anywhere.
A glimpse of his sister would do him just fine.
“Vash?”
He’d not noticed he was nodding off again until Gabriel appeared in the doorway to his office. His fellow immortal - ever unchanged, and Vash sometimes envied him that - smiled gently at him and placed a small bag on the table. “I was passing back through Switzerland. I thought you might want something from home.”
There had been no chocolate when Vash had lived in the Swiss Alps, but the thought was appreciated all the same. He gruffly told him so.
“Gabriel.” he said, swallowing a chocolate after allowing it to melt in his mouth. His jaw was getting too weak for chewing. “Do you ever remember your deaths?”
The Hunter pauses in chewing, looking thoughtful. “The closest I’ve ever come to really being dead... was probably when I had my heart quite literally ripped out of my chest.” he said slowly. “And even then, my soul didn’t move on. All I remember is blackness. It wasn’t scary, just... peaceful. I could stay there forever and nothing would change. Like falling asleep.” the two of them shared a look, and Gabriel smiled wryly. “Of course, I wasn’t ready to sleep. And I got quite a rude awakening at that, but, well, I suppose if it were easy being immortal, everyone would do it.”
Vash thought on this for a long time. “Your brother. Had you not become immortal, he would have been stuck as a cat, alone, forever.”
“Had you not gone chasing after the faeries that kidnapped your sister, she would also have been alone, forever.” Gabriel countered. “It’s not pleasant but... it’s better than nothing.”
“Hm.” Vash agreed wordlessly. “... do we always have this talk?”
“Nearly every time.”
Quietly, Vash laughed.
---
Vash was dead.
And then he wasn’t.