The answer was, at first, about what he might have expected. It made sense, given what he knew, what Vash's priorities were and the harshness of their world. But then he was reminded of how old he was, of what Luida had told him when the two of them had been recovering from the fight with Grey and Emilio, and he felt his heart breaking a little more than it already had been.
In the end...that was the only possible outcome, wasn't it? Everyone Vash loved would eventually grow old and die, leaving him alone and suffering when he didn't even look as if he'd aged a year. He would be lucky to have a century with the people he cared about, and with the violence inherent to life on this planet? Even that was a massive stretch.
And for Nicholas...? There was going to be far fewer still, and the thought made him want to crumble all over again. His years were numbered, he'd known this since he was very young, and he probably wouldn't live to see his 60th year even if he did decide to live a quiet, peaceful life. It hadn't been something he worried about before. Now it was just cruel, and not for his own sake.
The fight that had happened here might not have been what did it for him, but he was still going to die younger than most, and...it would just end up forcing Vash to go through this pain all over again. Nicholas was going to do it all over again, and this time, there wasn't anything he could do to stop it, it wasn't a result of his poor choices, it was just pure, uncompromising reality.
There were obvious tears in his eyes again when he nodded gently, biting his lip to keep from breaking down again, and unable to look up at him, and for a moment, he tried to smile, to pretend like he hadn't just spiraled into another deep chasm in his mind.
"I'm...I'm so. Sorry." His voice stuttered out, and then he was turning and walking inside, afraid that if he asked why, he wouldn't be able to keep himself from breaking again.
Later, after Vash had left him alone by the graveside, he shuffled slowly to stand at the foot of it, and then lowered himself to his knees. He was quiet for a long time, staring at his hands where they were folded in his lap and worrying at his lip again, so many thoughts and worries roiling inside of his head before he was able to grasp onto the end of a single thread and pull it out from the rest.
"I guess...first thing I owe you is...an apology. I'm sorry, for what I did here. For what I made him do, too. I...don't know if you'd understand or agree with why...why...I felt...like I had to...but I don't think it matters, either. Any reasons I could come up with would just...be an excuse. You didn't deserve what happened today, and I'm sorry we disturbed you." He couldn't help it, he was weeping again, though it was a quiet thing this time, not like the horrified screaming he'd been reduced to earlier. He sniffled sharply and palmed the tears away from his face. "I hope...wherever you are, you're at peace, now. I'm sorry you can't be in my place right now. I...I don't know why I somehow...deserved to live and you didn't. None of it makes sense to me, sometimes I feel like I understand everything less now than when I was...when I was...where you ended up. But I really do hope you have peace, now, I mean it. And...I want to...I hope...maybe I can make it up to you somehow. I know your partner is out there somewhere, missin' you and alone, but...I promise, I wanna find 'im for you and help him. There are more people like him, now. He doesn't have to be alone, anymore. I'll find 'im and make sure they find each other, so they don't have to be alone, anymore. That way...maybe your death will mean somethin'. I'll do it in your name, so they don't have to hurt anymore."
He was sobbing by the time he felt like he had said all he could think to say, his voice broken and rough. It didn't feel as strange, anymore, to be mourning this man, someone who was himself but also not, who'd had his own life and experiences. He reached out, brushing his hand over the cross chiseled into the surface of the grave stone, and then leaned over and kissed it softly. He kept his head close to it, feeling the texture of the stone beneath his fingertips, and when he spoke again, his voice was barely a whisper, only meant for the soul buried only a few short feet beneath him.
"Rest in peace, brother. You've earned it. Good bye."
He wasn't really a priest, and he didn't really know exactly what he believed, but when he sat back up, it only felt right, to pull the rosary he carried in his pocket out and cross himself before whispering a soft prayer before he left. Who knew, maybe this Nicholas had been a believer. It didn't hurt anything to do it right, and it helped ease the guilt he had for what he'd done, if only a little bit. And then, after sitting in a moment of silence, he stood, tucking the rosary back into his pocket, and was halfway turning to leave when he stopped short, startling himself with another thought and glancing back.
"Oh, God, I almost forgot! Don't worry about Angelina! I'll take care of her, too! I'll make sure she's kept in perfect shape, I promise!" He stared at the gravestone again, looking a little like he thought the man beneath it would give some sort of response, and then he finished his turn and went to pick the Punisher back up from where he'd left it against the crumbling ruins, and hurried inside to find Vash.
His head hung low when he found him in the kitchen, and he still had trouble looking him in the eye. But he was at least able to compose himself a bit after wiping away his tears with a sad little sniff, and he shoved his free hand into the pocket of his slacks.
no subject
In the end...that was the only possible outcome, wasn't it? Everyone Vash loved would eventually grow old and die, leaving him alone and suffering when he didn't even look as if he'd aged a year. He would be lucky to have a century with the people he cared about, and with the violence inherent to life on this planet? Even that was a massive stretch.
And for Nicholas...? There was going to be far fewer still, and the thought made him want to crumble all over again. His years were numbered, he'd known this since he was very young, and he probably wouldn't live to see his 60th year even if he did decide to live a quiet, peaceful life. It hadn't been something he worried about before. Now it was just cruel, and not for his own sake.
The fight that had happened here might not have been what did it for him, but he was still going to die younger than most, and...it would just end up forcing Vash to go through this pain all over again. Nicholas was going to do it all over again, and this time, there wasn't anything he could do to stop it, it wasn't a result of his poor choices, it was just pure, uncompromising reality.
There were obvious tears in his eyes again when he nodded gently, biting his lip to keep from breaking down again, and unable to look up at him, and for a moment, he tried to smile, to pretend like he hadn't just spiraled into another deep chasm in his mind.
"I'm...I'm so. Sorry." His voice stuttered out, and then he was turning and walking inside, afraid that if he asked why, he wouldn't be able to keep himself from breaking again.
Later, after Vash had left him alone by the graveside, he shuffled slowly to stand at the foot of it, and then lowered himself to his knees. He was quiet for a long time, staring at his hands where they were folded in his lap and worrying at his lip again, so many thoughts and worries roiling inside of his head before he was able to grasp onto the end of a single thread and pull it out from the rest.
"I guess...first thing I owe you is...an apology. I'm sorry, for what I did here. For what I made him do, too. I...don't know if you'd understand or agree with why...why...I felt...like I had to...but I don't think it matters, either. Any reasons I could come up with would just...be an excuse. You didn't deserve what happened today, and I'm sorry we disturbed you." He couldn't help it, he was weeping again, though it was a quiet thing this time, not like the horrified screaming he'd been reduced to earlier. He sniffled sharply and palmed the tears away from his face. "I hope...wherever you are, you're at peace, now. I'm sorry you can't be in my place right now. I...I don't know why I somehow...deserved to live and you didn't. None of it makes sense to me, sometimes I feel like I understand everything less now than when I was...when I was...where you ended up. But I really do hope you have peace, now, I mean it. And...I want to...I hope...maybe I can make it up to you somehow. I know your partner is out there somewhere, missin' you and alone, but...I promise, I wanna find 'im for you and help him. There are more people like him, now. He doesn't have to be alone, anymore. I'll find 'im and make sure they find each other, so they don't have to be alone, anymore. That way...maybe your death will mean somethin'. I'll do it in your name, so they don't have to hurt anymore."
He was sobbing by the time he felt like he had said all he could think to say, his voice broken and rough. It didn't feel as strange, anymore, to be mourning this man, someone who was himself but also not, who'd had his own life and experiences. He reached out, brushing his hand over the cross chiseled into the surface of the grave stone, and then leaned over and kissed it softly. He kept his head close to it, feeling the texture of the stone beneath his fingertips, and when he spoke again, his voice was barely a whisper, only meant for the soul buried only a few short feet beneath him.
"Rest in peace, brother. You've earned it. Good bye."
He wasn't really a priest, and he didn't really know exactly what he believed, but when he sat back up, it only felt right, to pull the rosary he carried in his pocket out and cross himself before whispering a soft prayer before he left. Who knew, maybe this Nicholas had been a believer. It didn't hurt anything to do it right, and it helped ease the guilt he had for what he'd done, if only a little bit. And then, after sitting in a moment of silence, he stood, tucking the rosary back into his pocket, and was halfway turning to leave when he stopped short, startling himself with another thought and glancing back.
"Oh, God, I almost forgot! Don't worry about Angelina! I'll take care of her, too! I'll make sure she's kept in perfect shape, I promise!" He stared at the gravestone again, looking a little like he thought the man beneath it would give some sort of response, and then he finished his turn and went to pick the Punisher back up from where he'd left it against the crumbling ruins, and hurried inside to find Vash.
His head hung low when he found him in the kitchen, and he still had trouble looking him in the eye. But he was at least able to compose himself a bit after wiping away his tears with a sad little sniff, and he shoved his free hand into the pocket of his slacks.
"Ok. I think I'm ready. Let's go find the bike."