150 Bullets

048. Sunset

It's been a slow traveling day. Not enough double dollars between the two of you to rent a tomas, so you're left with the two feet you're born with to get you to the next city.

The worst of the heat is over; the suns are dipping toward the horizon. Here, on one of the numberless sand dunes on No Man's Land do you stop for a break, a drink of water. And here, while Vash puts the water away and hands you a pack of nuts for snacking, do you stare with a fond longing at a farm.

"When we get old," you say, because there's always going to be a 'we' with you two; to be together 'til the stars burn out, "we should get a house like that." You turn to him with a glint in your eye. "One with a wraparound porch. Lots of space."

Vash straightens slowly from his sack and looks off at the distant farmhouse, with its small greenhouse domes and tracts of brushed sand. The suns are setting to the west. Everything is bathed in amber, and he squints against the shine of reflecting light through his glasses. It's small, as far as farms go. Most are these days. With Plants growing healthier and technology being leaked slowly from Home, farms don't have to settle as close to cities to survive. A sand tractor kicks up dust in the distance, the farmer prepping the ground for hardy plant life meant for deserts.

He feels a smile grow on his lips. A brow raising slowly, he gives you a playful look. "You want to sweep all the sand off the deck all day? 'Cause that's what will happen if we get that porch." He hefts his pack on his shoulder and starts walking again. He knows you'll follow.

And you do, feet steady on the sand. "Ah, you're right," you open the bag of nuts and pop a few in your mouth, savoring the one cranberry in the bunch, "But wouldn't it be nice to watch the sunrise and sunset after a long day? Just sitting in some rocking chairs. Or one of those hanging benches!"

Vash hums, looking at the farmhouse again. "We could hang up some string lights around it. Have a little space off to the side for a firepit. Roast marshmallows and eat s'mores."

You grin. "We'd have to have a workshop somewhere, for your arm and whatever else you want to build."

He glances over his shoulder and gives you that charming smile. "I could build you some bookcases. Have our own library inside somewhere."

"We'd need one with all the journals we have between us."

Vash laughs in agreement, then pauses at the crux of the dune. The tractor moves along. He looks at the farmhouse now as if it is your own. "We'd have a master bedroom, and at least three guest bedrooms. For when friends come by for a visit." He points. "Right there."

You stand by his side. Brushing his hand, you smile at him when he looks down. "There'd be lots of them. We might even have to add a second wing, especially when holidays roll around. Maybe some of them would move in for a bit, then they'd go off to start their own businesses, or their own families."

"Now it's starting to sound more like a bed and breakfast place. Or a hotel."

"Or our own farm! With hired hands that can work the land with us, learn how to care for the Plant we get."

He gives you a look. "You wouldn't mind all the people?"

You purse your lips, then shake your head. "I know people's more your thing, but I think they'd become like family eventually." You give him a wink and bump his arm with your shoulder. "I'd do it for you."

And a breath leaves in a slow rush from his lips. He's overcome. You're golden in the sunset's light. Beautiful. The perfect match for him. Vash often wonders, if there is a God, if He looked down on his pitiful state and said, 'Alright, just this once,' when he sent you. "Maybe..." he swallows and voices the imperfect little hope he has that can never be true, "...we'd have some room for the kids, too." He looks down shyly, and is grateful for the hood of his coat obscuring his sight a bit.

Your smile only grows, and you hold his hand, leaning into his arm. "...Maybe." You grin when his ears go red.

A solemn, bittersweet feeling overcomes him, even as he brings you close to hold you. He knows this is all wishful thinking. Two lovers hoping for a better, calmer future together. Something to get you both through the next day. There's a Plant to the east calling out, and he needs to answer it. But he still hopes, staring at that distant farmhouse, that it could come true someday. Somehow, someway, you'd both settle down. Have your own place. Your own family.

He sees a lone figure come out of the house, followed by a smaller one – a child – and his breath leaves him.

You both watch the waning sunset over the house and hope for a brighter tomorrow to find you soon.