III - Alliance

If one is alone, darkness pooling around him like venomous snakes, then one thinks. Thinks and thinks and thinks. And so that is what I wound up doing, even as the barlady came in, giving me a sideways glance before cleaning the space behind the counter - wiping a few shelves and cleaning a few glasses..

But all the thoughts were incoherent, as if something were holding them back. In trying to sort them I barely heard myself asking for a drink, any drink, just pick one. She gave me an odd look, one meant to say 'we ain't open yet' - I must have not caught it at the time, too deep inside my own head - then slid me something that looked quite like that fellow's brains outside. Drank it anyway.. and drifted off. Drifted off so that I never really realized I was..

..into a dream that may have been a vision, though there wasn't much visioning in it. I heard things, though..

Knives screaming, near hysterical with fear and anger: "No! It wasn't supposed to happen like this!!"

A voice, unfamiliar and familiar at the same time, smugly drawling: "This is what you get when you trust the cobra not to bite.."

And all of it but an anguished scream drowned out by a loud, ear-shattering explosion, a blinding light starting only seconds before it..

I woke up with my new clothes sticking to my body with sweat, my new hat off somewhere else out of my line of sight, a dull pain my left hand.. I was vaguely aware that I wasn't alone anymore, several patrons perched within but not half as many as there would be later. But they could not hold my interest. I turned my attention the pain in my hand - in my finger, actually, a little bubble of blood had popped and a small crimson line was now drooling down the side. I stared at it.. fascinated..

Then noticed something else crimson and sparkling in the dim light overhead..

A word: Andante.

Even as I absently sucked the finger of my left hand, wiping the word away with the sleeve of my right, I was starting to think that name belonged to the second voice.. but how did it seem so familiar..? How did both voice and name strike such a chord in my mind, trying to conjure up memories but failing horribly..? All this thinking.. wasn't good for the bullet-hole in my head.. it was starting to hurt again..

Then I heard yet another shriek, one not within my mind or in the realm of dreams. It belonged to a woman - and contained only fiery hawkish anger.. that, and a little bit of horrified sadness. Ah, when did I become so adept at picking things apart?

"You!" She bellowed as I turned around slightly, enough to face the door, getting a good look at the woman in it. Tied-back brown hair still slightly tied-back but sticking up in maniacal spikes, eyes of the same hue full of pure hatred, spewing tears as her mouth spewed incoherent profanities.. some weren't profanities, of course, but for some reason that's mostly what I heard..

"Those are his clothes.. You killed him and took his clothes!"

Accusation just freshly standing upon the wind, she coiled back and launched herself at me, shrieking like a harpy. As crazily certain as I had been when I knew I couldn't kill this woman's husband - or boyfriend, you never know - with my brain, I knew I couldn't stop her with my brain.. and probably not my muscles, or speed, or anything else like that. It would be like getting hit with… a very large bullet. Tried anyway, instincts telling my arms to at least preserve my face.. bracing myself for impact..

But nothing hit me. Familiar scent and brain-wave.. the left hand twitching minutely but recognizably.

Vash.

Danger past - I hoped - I lowered my arms, to see him holding her and attempting to comfort her at the same time.. the second was not working very well, and once he set her down it took three more women and a couple of men to keep her from attacking me again. But then she seemed to crumple into herself, sobbing, saying softly between those sobs, "That.. bastard.. killed my Jeffie.."

Turned my attention from her and found myself locking eyes with him, blue to gold, and he seemed.. distressed. Maybe seeing me alive when I should be dead had something to do with it... gaze flicked from my eyes to that damned hole in my head, and I couldn't tell whether this relieved him or further disturbed him.

He went towards me, sitting on the rusty stool beside me, looking at the counter.

"Legato.." He said softly. Felt my head giving a little nod, as if to confirm my livelihood. "But.. I killed you.."

"Yes." No explanation - he didn't need that. I didn't need that. What I needed was his help.. for what I was quite unclear on, but I knew I needed him or else whatever-it-was would fail. Ah.. now if only he'd stop looking so depressed.. made me feel rather guilty, and that was also something I - no, we - didn't need at this time.

Now, hold on.. how in the name of my bygone Paradise did he find me? And so quickly after I had judged that I would need him? Couldn't be luck or coincidence.. too much of that in our lives.. I asked him, of course - had to get the "preliminaries" out of the way first - and the answer confused me.

"What do you mean, I called you?" He seemed confused now.. as if I should know what I do with my mind, please and thank you. If I wasn't so perplexed myself I might've gotten angry at him.. or just plain frustrated. You never know, 'pon impulsive times like these.

Vash turned to me, cerulean eyes filled with mostly confusion. Unfortunately, I also noted a sense of sympathy for me that I'd rather him not have. Like that chickenshit quack3 that had brought me back.. sympathetic, but in a way unable to do anything about it. He shouldn't still hold a grudge.. that would complicate things..

"I heard you. In my head." He tapped the side of his head for emphasis. I simply nodded, disregarding the obvious shared knowledge that I already knew all about head tricks. "You said you needed me."

I frowned. That phrase.. giving me quite uncharacteristic and rather perverted thoughts. "That was the message? That I needed you?"

"Yup."

Giving it thought - not the perverted breed, mind you - directing my wandering gaze to the rusty ceiling fan in the center of the ceiling, eyes following its gyrations as thoughts passed behind them. "Maybe.." I said at last, looking back to him and his renewed pity for me, "..I called you in my sleep."

Surprisingly, he grinned.

"Well now.. guess those catnaps are useful for something, eh?" He said through this smile, then gave that awful hootish laughter that had actually been one of his trademarks. I could vaguely feel the rest of the patrons' stares upon us.. but gave it no mind. Apparently, he had been asleep as well.

I allowed myself a small smile at his behavior, but that was it. It was "business time" now. And I suppose I was displaying this on my face, because he stopped laughing and reassumed that depressed look. A look I saw on him quite a while after, actually..

"So. Will you?"

Silence. Maybe thought, maybe just an unspoken refusal. I waited.

Then he looked at me, in his eyes what I would see only once more: grim determination. Depression floating just beneath the surface, like pools of water.. He nodded. Once. Enough for me.

Legato…

The world.. began to swim again. Including Vash..

Legato… kill…

..th..the pain…

There were notes here, but they're gone now. Now the story is a lot less stupid.