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Vash really... thinks he should be okay. Other than Wolfwood leaving the way he did, the rest of his time in this place has brought him so much that he never thought or expected he could have.

Rem.

Nai.

Knives.

Delphinium, and everyone else over there.

Tessla.

So much of that, he's not only never dared to hope for, he hadn't conceived that it was possible. He should be happy. He should be at least content, and focusing on what called them here, on what he could do.

But he's really just utterly exhausted, in ways that go beyond the physical. Just thinking about doing anything makes him cringe at the certainty that he can't help anyone or anything. So mostly he's just sitting near Rem's house, knees drawn up, and staring out over the desert, towards JuLai. He should talk with Rem about maybe going to stay with Delphinium, or at least meat her, explain to her about Tessla too. He should talk with the ghost of Wolfwood. He should likely check if she needs more supplies here. He should spend time with Nai. He should go to Octovern and find out what help is needed. He should find out if Home was okay, too, for that matter.

And he can't make himself do any of these things, the thought of reaching out to anyone just hurting with the certainty of his uselessness.

He doesn't even hum at himself, not judging himself deserving of that comfort.

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"Sleep" for him was...strange. Not really sleep, technically, no, but something akin to it, only instead of letting his mind slip into the dark void of unconsciousness, he let his soul release its grip on the living world, slipping into the dark void between one place and the next. He could rest there, so long as he ignored the ever present pull of the Light, always on the edge of his periphery, waiting for him to heed its call and cross over, and with time, he would find himself rested, at peace.

Except it came with a price; as he lay, his mind losing touch with consciousness while still being aware in a strange, detached sort of way that had never been possible in life, his already weak grasp on the passage of time deteriorated completely. He had only allowed himself the chance to do this a few of times in the past, after he had realized the first time that entire weeks had passed in what felt like only an hour and he had been forced to go searching for Vash for months before he'd finally found him again. It was too risky, too easy to lose so much time that he might let years pass him by, and by the time he reawakened, he would be too late, and Vash would be gone.

But he had no choice, now, not after what had happened in the desert. He had been barely holding onto his grip with the living world by the time he'd made it back to Rem's home, and no amount of the worry that he had for what Vash was going through where he'd left him was enough to give him the energy needed to stay awake. So he'd simply found the device that he'd tried communicating with earlier, thankful that the thing was responsive enough to him that it took no effort to make it switch back to the little typing screen, and left a message on the screen before using what was left of his energy to prop it up in clear view of the door, at an angle that hopefully showed it was meant to be read, and then let himself collapse into a mindless rest.

im here and safe but sleep is strange i lose time i may not come back for a while i can still hear you but it might take a bit to wake me up i want to help if you need me youll have to shout pretty loud though im sorry if she didnt make it wake me up ill go back with you help her cross over im sorry i couldnt help dont worry blondie im ok

He could hear their voices as he rested, though they sounded muffled, muddy, as if he were hearing them with his head submerged in bathwater, moving back and forth, a soft murmuring that washed over him but was so, so easy to ignore. He wasn't meant to pay it any mind. This was where he belonged, in the void or in the light, and it was so calm, so still as he rested and let his mind go blank. That, too, was why he hated to stay. Every moment spent here made him want to stay more, to let go of what held him from moving on and accept the peace offered by the light. It would be so easy, to give in and let himself be carried onto whatever came next, especially when he was so tired. And every time he let himself slip back to the void, it became just a little bit harder to say no.

But he was still needed. There was still someone he had to watch over, and now, that had expanded to more than just the one. And he was known. He couldn't do that to them. Not yet. Not unless he needed to help the girl, first.

So eventually, he stirred, his mind drifting gently back into awareness, rested and calm. It was a simple thing, to let his consciousness grasp onto the edges of reality, pulling himself out of the void and watching as the world faded into being around him, as if the suns in the sky were slowly materializing and illuminating the planet from pitch darkness. He sat up, blinking, as he found himself still next to the table he'd propped the device on top of.

Needle-Noggin?

When no answer came, he wandered, searching the small home before moving outside to look for him there. He was easy enough to spot, bright red in the sea of tan dunes, and the small glimmer of anxiety that had built up as he'd tried to locate him instantly melted away. Well. Whatever had happened, he was home and he was safe. That was what mattered. He shuffled over, sitting not far from him but still far enough that he wouldn't risk accidental contact - a habit borne of decades of finding out the hard way - and would hopefully be less of a shock when he finally spoke up.

How long was I down?

The message on the device good had been read, and both had put his mind wore at ease and made him think how his presence was keeping one more person from finding peace. He wanted so much to save people, but he brought the opposite. Always.

The faint words reached him, though he still needed a moment to find the energy to respond. The emotional warmth and welcome came first, a faint flicker before it steadied, strengthened. Affection.

Eventually came a soft breath, and Vash spoke, his voice quiet.

"Hey. More or less a couple of weeks, I think." His own sense of time was a little fuzzy.

"Tessla is all right. She's with other independents for now. She looks a little different than most girls, but that's all right. She's all right." He swallowed. "Thank you, for trying to help back then."

The delay between when the question was asked and when he answered was long enough that he turned to watch him, his brow furrowing slightly when he realized that something was...off? Different. And it took a moment for him to recognize that it was his hair, that it seemed...darker?

Huh. Well. That was probably less than ideal. He wasn't sure exactly what caused it, other than that Vash had always seemed to do that after he'd used a lot of his weird powers, and it had seemed to become something he was self-conscious about after it had gone completely black.

He nodded gently when the reply finally came, silent for a little while himself as he processed the news, but the subtle feelings coming off of him in waves helped soothe a bit of the lingering anxiety he felt. It made it a little easier to find his voice again when he replied.

I guess two weeks isn't so bad. Sorry if I worried you, though. I'm...glad to hear she's doing better. He fell back into an uncomfortable silence when Vash thanked him for trying to help, his own emotions tangled up in a confused ball when he tried to think back on what had happened. About who he had thought he was seeing in front of him, writhing on the ground and shredded into a gory pile of limbs and body parts. About what he'd been worried he would need to do even after he'd realized it wasn't another Vash. Wasn't his Vash, mangled and driven into a crazed state in the time between losing him and that ball of nightmares found them in the desert.

There was a lot to unpack there, and he wasn't quite sure he knew where to even start. And not especially when he knew Vash was smart enough to have probably put two and two together. It had been one of the thoughts that hung over his head the entire walk home.

I...I'm glad I was wrong. About...all of what happened out there. I...I asked you to do something back there that-... Something he had seen first hand would have broken him. Something he knew Vash would have hated himself for. It had been so long since Legato had been killed, but that didn't mean it should have been so easy for him to forget the how close the event had come to killing Vash. I never should have asked you to do that. I'm sorry.

"You left me a message. That helped." Soft. Before his shoulders hunched yet more. It yet again took time before he could manage words.

"She... she deserves kindness and mercy the most of all of us. If that had been the kind of mercy she had chosen, I would have done it, even without you asking for it. Your words would have helped, I think, then. Your help even more appreciated."

Taking a life was something he did not want to do, for there was always hope... But in Tessla's case, it would have been more complicated. If she had asked, he wouldn't have refused her.

But she had not. And now she was better. That was what mattered.

"I'm sorry. I'm really happy about that, I am. I don't know what's with me. It will pass, I'm sure. Was your rest good?"

A part of him was at least happy to know that Vash would have given her that mercy, if she'd asked for it. That it wasn't something he would have fought tooth and nail, the way he had back home. Maybe, for this man, that one little change would mean the difference between breaking down and being able to weather the trauma of taking a life when that time came. If that time came. Maybe he wouldn't have to at all.

I'm glad it didn't come to that, though. For both your sakes. She does deserve better than she was given. I hope she can be happy.

He turned to watch him through the uncomfortable silence that had come over him, frowning gently as he tried to write off the weight of whatever was bearing down on him. It might have been worrying, if it weren't so heartbreakingly familiar. He had always been able to read Vash's emotions, from the first moment he met him. With the added experience of untold years watching, listening, bearing silent witness to the suffering he went through on a regular basis, even when things weren't quite so grim? There was nothing surprising about the mood the younger man was in, not for Wolfwood.

He shrugged gently, regardless of whether he could be seen or not, and sighed.

It was rest. It's...different than sleeping. Hard to explain. It's...peaceful. I'm still aware, but...it's like I stop...thinking. I just lay back and let everything move around without me. If you were talking, I could still hear you, but...everything feels...unimportant. Like I don't need to worry about the world of living, anymore, and I can just rest. Does that make sense? Though I guess explaining it like that...it sounds kind of depressing. It's not, really. It's just peace and quiet.

He was quiet again, but this time, it was a shorter silence as he considered the best way to address the rest of what he'd said, and how he'd tried to make excuses for feeling the way he did.

You asked before, if I'd...existed, like this, for a while. It's hard to say, honestly. Time is weird, when you don't need to sleep, or food, when you don't get tired from a day of walking. Days bleed into each other and I don't notice them, anymore, not the way you might. But...the thing I know is...you. The you that knew me, before.

He smiled softly to himself, remembering the shape of his face, how it had settled with age into something slightly broader, his jawline ever so subtly more square, his cheekbones more pronounced and his eyes softer, but...sadder.

He's older than you are. I think a by lot. His hair has started to turn grey, he has crows feet around his eyes. He's not old, but...he's older.

And I notice the people, the friends he makes. Counting the years is hard, but for a while, I realized I could count the generations of the families who's lives he touched. It's doesn't tell me exactly how long it's been, but it helps.

And I think I'm starting to lose count of those, too, now.

Which is all to say that...I've had a long time, to get to know the kind of man Vash is. I've seen the way things effect him, and how he feels everything so strongly. I could always tell, from the first day we met. I just recognize it even more, now.

So...you don't have to try and make excuses for how you feel, not to me. I won't ever judge you if sometimes, things hurt too much for you to just shrug it off. You're allowed to feel sad when something makes you sad. And it'll be ok, when something comes along that can give you a little bit of your happiness back, if you let yourself be joyful for a while. Enjoy your...donuts and pizza, or the little knick knacks you keep in your pockets, or drawing little doodles on the wanted posters. You don't have to apologize to me. Give yourself a little time, things won't feel quite so grim after a while.

"I'm glad I didn't have to, either." It was even quieter, the full awareness that he didn't know how much of himself would have been left if he'd had to do it.

He listened to the answer, brightening a little, and then about the older him, just about hanging on to every word. Until the words wound back to himself, which he should have expected but somehow it took him by surprise. His shoulders sank back down, and so did his chin, his gaze.

"Thanks. I am pretty sure I will, which is why I'd rather nobody worry. I'm just..." He trailed off, fully aware how pathetic the rest of that thought sounded.

"He made a difference, didn't he? Always."

That was easier.

His expression softened when he caught the shift and realized he was finding some kind of comfort in hearing about that other him, or about the way things were where Wolfwood was from. When he spoke again, his voice was smiling.

Just remember that people will worry, regardless, because they care about you. You're not inconveniencing people if they fuss, they want to take care of you. It's alright to accept help.

And if Vash wanted to think about people other than himself, his actual self, that was fine, too. If it made him feel less on-the-spot for Wolfwood to talk about the other man, well, he could honestly probably go on for hours. He'd gotten used to endlessly rambling just to fill the silence ages ago. It was just instinctual, at this point.

He gave a sharp laugh, and his voice was grinning, now.

I mean, he saved the fuckin' world, I'd say that's makin' a difference, wouldn't you? But yeah. Even if you ignore all that, it's just...what he does. He goes somewhere, stays a while, manages to find the one son of a bitch that needs taking care of, and he does it. I get the feeling that's just the way he's always been, even before I met 'im. Once he'd laid low long enough for the bounties to stop and people to stop lookin' for 'im, he started goin' back out, doin' his thing. We don't ever stay put for very long, I get the feelin' that time he stayed with an old lady an' her granddaughter was unusual for him, an' I still feel a bit bad for takin' him away from all that. But he still likes helpin' people; workin' their farm for a season if they're havin' trouble doin' it themselves, helpin' someone rebuild a house when it burned down, diggin' wells, findin' lost kids. Whatever needs doin', he does it.

He was quiet for a moment as memories hit, ones that hit closer to home, that were more special for Nicholas than the rest, even with the many, many that had been made over the countless years. When he continued, his voice was softer, still so fond, but...there was a bit of sadness there, too.

If he's ever stayin' in one place for very long, it's...usually only ever Home, or...December. I thought maybe he'd stop goin' back there after a while, but... He sighed softly. He hadn't given specifics for a reason, but maybe this needed a little explaining. That's where I am. At the orphanage. He...started makin' trips every few years, after things died down, to come visit, and at first, he didn't let anyone see 'im. He'd wait until everyone was asleep an' sit up next to...next to where he laid me, an' just...talk. An' cry. Or drink. Sometimes a little of all three. I thought for sure he'd get tired of it an' stop, finally move on an' let my restin' place turn t'dust an' rust. But then one time, Livio came out an' found 'im an' made 'im stay.

Apparently he'd known he was doin' it for a while, an' it took him that long to work up the gumption t'go out. Not that I blame 'im, he blamed himself for what happened for a long, long time. Either way, he got 'im to stay for a while, take care of the kids. I think...helpin' makes 'im happy, for a while. An' the kids always love 'im. After that, the trips always lasted a couple weeks. Even after Livio passed away, he kept goin' back. The matrons have always understood, they know he's safe an' the few times people got wind he was there, they never said a word. An' he does his best not to wear that damn coat around the kids, so they won't have to feel bad about lyin' if any adults come lookin' for the Man in Red.

He gave a soft laugh, reaching down and flicking a little stone out towards the crater to give his hand something to do. December has come to mean a lot for him, so much more than just his own resting place, his childhood home. Even with so much of it being woven around that history. It's always both hard and wonderful, when he recognizes that Vash's road is heading back there. He doesn't think he's ever spent time there that didn't end with him being in constant tears from the moment they arrived to the moment they left again.

It's...nice, I guess. Miss Melanie used to...take care of...my resting place. Between visits, I mean. Then Livio, when he...stopped blamin' himself so much. But...when they were gone...one of the times we went back...it was the kids. They didn't even know me, the kids who had were all grown up by then. But...they knew it was the grave of someone the grown ups cared about, and...they wanted to take care of m-...it so Vash wouldn't have to when he came back. I...

He cleared his throat, realizing suddenly that he had gone into a topic that was too much, at least for himself. Not that he wanted to keep it from Vash, but it still hurt in a way that very few things did, anymore, hurt and also made him feel so loved. Like maybe his life had actually meant something, too.

Sorry. Fuck. I sure know how to bring the mood down, don't I? He gave a laugh, loud and sounding so fake to his own ears, trying to redirect away. He needed to try and think about what he was saying better, before he spoke. It was all well and good, when he was just talking to hear his own voice. He couldn't let himself be this careless when he was actually communicating.

Vash was at least grateful that he had redirected the conversation away from his direct ache, the smile in the ghostly voice a salve. That had to be good, right?

Even as Wolfwood kept talking and Vash's eyes blurred with tears he didn't let fall, he was glad. The words were spoken with affection and eagerness, and that was good. The echo in his own mind, of help he had given that had twisted into horribleness, that was for him alone. A lost child he'd found, turned into a monster to haunt his former home for decades, alone with nothing but anger and hatred. Saving a plant of town, only to helplessly watch that town destroyed, despair wiping the survivors. And on and on and on, in the end the only difference he'd made only for the worse, always.

At least one of him had saved the world.

But he had not saved his Wolfwood. That was what Knives had warned him about, the one here, to not let Wolfwood go, but it had been too late, always too late.

Curling in tighter on himself, still Vash listened, to every word. With all that he could manage, he let himself radiate more calm, more affection.

"You've done a lot of good, you know. And you mean a lot. I'm - I've not shared as much with the you I know as you with the me you do, but even so, I'd be going back. It's... special, to be seen for who I am. It's special to me." He swallowed. "And of course you're important to those you did so much to protect. Kids... know more than one would expect, I think. About who and what is important."

He couldn't point out that Wolfwood simply couldn't bring his mood further down than where it had been. That wouldn't help.

"And I'm glad Livio was all right. We only... met very briefly. But you two mean a lot to each other. I could see that." That could sidetrack a little, couldn't it?

The calm, affectionate feeling he felt coming off of Vash in waves helped, in a strange way, soothed the ache he felt just a bit. Everything about December was...complicated, it couldn't not be, least of all because it was the place he'd died. But talking about it was at least easier than he would have expected, with Vash doing that thing, whatever it was, even if he never would have expected it to still work on him the way it had when he was alive and Vash had done it. What was more strange, really, was the way this man seemed to do it so much more often than he remembered. There was still a sadness, though, and he was careful to give himself time to think about what to say before he spoke up again.

I know, for the most part. Vash cares so much, about everyone. I wasn't surprised when he started visiting. I just...

Hmm...maybe the words he'd been tempted to say weren't the best. Nicholas...knew things to be fact that, when he'd been alive, had been a source of immense pain for him. Truths about himself, about his worth, that had made him want to claw through his own skin, make himself hurt physically, if it would only make up for a fraction of the sins he had committed in his life. Those "facts" were, for the most part, still there, but time had dulled the pain they caused, numbing him to them. Or...maybe it was because of the amount of care he'd seen people show to his memory that helped. Maybe it made those truths less rock solid. But they weren't truths that people wanted to hear, were they? At the same time...he knew Vash well enough to know that he saw those truths reflected back at him. If anyone understood, it was him. Was this man the same?

He was almost whispering when he continued, as if even saying these things felt wrong. As if he was unable to follow the advice he'd been giving Vash only a few minutes ago.

I never thought I would ever mean that much to someone. My whole life...I expected my body to be buried in some...shallow, unmarked grave. Or left forgotten out in the desert somewhere. I thought that was all I deserved. I didn't think anything I did would ever...warrant that much care. And I...I wish I could say that...I doubt it makes much sense to you, but...you understand, don't you? Sometimes I remember the things he says, when he doesn't think anyone can hear 'im, even after all the good he's done, and...it hurts to know how much he sounds like me.

Fuck. I keep doin' that. Sorry, sorry. He scrubbed a hand down his face, growling softly at himself. I'm not used to...talking with people. I stopped havin' a filter years ago. This is why I don't talk. I'm...everything I am is just...a reminder. Depressing, scary, painful. Even if I'm not hurting, I...All I can do is bring sadness and pain. Does that even make any sense??? I know how it must seem, how...horrible my existence must seem, but it's really not!

And yet. Here he was, his hands thrown up over his eyes as if hiding his face in frustration or distress, letting himself fall back onto the desert floor perhaps a little dramatically for someone who couldn't be seen.

Everything was so simple when it was just me following him around! Why are we here right now? Where is he??? And why did it seem like...like he saw me??? That earthquake hit, an' I swear, it was like he knew I was there, for the first time since I'd died! And now I don't even know where he is, or if he's even alright, and I swear t'God, when I saw...when I saw your sister out there, I thought-...I was worried-...No!

He sat back up abruptly, slamming his fists into the ground, and the sand under his fists actually shifted as if he had physical form, erupting in a pair of tiny clouds for just a moment.

This is why I don't talk. Fuck.

He gave himself a minute, to force back down his emotions, to try and latch back onto that sense of calm that Vash was trying to force out into the world. It took him a bit, a few deep, forceful breaths that he didn't need as he centered himself. When he finally felt he had calmed himself enough that he trusted his voice again, he shook his head, leaning his hands on his knees so that he could cover his face, and gave an audible sigh.

Sorry. Yeah, yeah. Livio. As if reminding himself what they'd been talking about, audibly forcing himself back on track. Livio was...like the only family I had, him and the rest of the orphanage. He's like my little brother. I...think I met your Wolfwood. He...kept talkin' about you an' Livio like he thought you were dead, so I'm not sure what the story there is, exactly. Sounds like he...shot 'imself in the head? If that's the case, I promise, that's not enough to do 'im in. But if things go for him the way they did back home, he's gonna have a rocky journey before he's free of what they did to him. He's...I...I put myself in that grave to make sure he came out of the whole mess alright. Him an' the rest of the kids. I had t'do a whole lot more damage than a gunshot wound to the head to do it, so I know he's still alive, but your Wolfwood wouldn't listen. But...I mean, he's me. He's an asshole, I should have expected as much.

For the record, if it makes any of that sound any less grotesque...I'd do it all over again if I had to. They were worth it, and I have no regrets.

Well...maybe one.

Ok, except that I hurt Vash a lot when I did it, so that wasn't great. I'd still do it again, but...I'd have done things a bit differently, now, so maybe I didn't have to.

... well. Despite all the ways that Vash cared and wanted to hear what Wolfwood had to say, he had already been on the verge of completely shutting down, and the whole combination of Wolfwood talking about how he'd to his death, you understand, don't you?, and the ghostly cry of where is he? just swept what mental strength Vash had left.

He gapsed out, his voice raw, "he believes he led me to my death. So he won't listen to me, either. I only make it worse." I only make everything worse... "And he... he left, to g-go check on the orphanage." His breath rattled in his chest, but he pressed on.

"You don't have to... not talk. And I don't know where he is. I can't help... I'm sorry."

He leaned his head until his forehead was on his knees, hiding his face, and tried to focus on what he was projecting, but... even that flickered and faded in the dry desert air. He'd reached the end of what he could give for the moment. He really, really was sorry.

For a moment, he wanted to grouse about how much of a fucking idiot the other Wolfwood was being, but then he looked over, really looked, and realized suddenly just how bad it had gotten for Vash. "Shit. Shit. Now look what I did!" And then the feelings of calm and affection faded, sputtering out like a lighter run out of its fuel, and he cursed himself out loud, but not in a way that would carry to the living.

This, he knew. He'd seen this even before he'd gotten himself killed. It had always been so alarming then, especially when it was happening in the middle of a fight, and years afterward of seeing him slipping into these strange, self-strangled silences when he was hurting the most still hadn't quite done much to make it any less worrying.

He took a moment to focus, putting real energy into his hand as he reached out, and when his hand brushed gently over his shoulders, it would almost feel solid, almost feel like more than just a gentle pressure. At least this way, it was as if there was also a barrier between the matter of his being and the lifeforce that surged through Vash's body, keeping him safe from the pain that contact usually brought.

Hey, ok, Vash, I'm sorry. Change of tactics. He spoke slowly, pausing quietly between each sentence, to let him respond if he was able. I didn't expect you to help. I'm sorry I made it seem like I wanted you t'give me all the answers. That's that lack of filter thing I talked about. I'm just used to talkin' a million iles a minute as the thoughts pop into my head, and nobody hears me. I'm gonna start workin' harder to control that.

You don't have t'answer if it's too much, alright? He does that sometimes, too, I get it, so we'll just work with simple sentences for now, and you can nod or shake your head if you wanna answer, if you're able, does that work?

I...I think I might be the reason he wanted to go to December. That's my fault, if so, an' I'm sorry. I didn't realize what was happening. If it makes you feel any safer, when I left for the orphanage, I knew you were alive. I was the one who went an' broke your ass outta-... No, no, simple concepts, stop giving details, he was going to keep overwhelming him. I helped you get out of a bad situation an' then left the next morning, so he's probably safe. It just doesn't line up.

How about this; take a bit t'rest, an' I can go with you t'follow 'im. Does that work? He rubbed his back just a bit more firmly, as much pressure as he could put into the touch. An' if it makes you feel any better, I promise, you don't make things worse, he's just a dumbass. And whatever's got us all thrown together probably has him real confused. Guarantee you, sooner or later, he's gonna come runnin' back with his tail tucked between his legs, feelin' like a real shithead. That's exactly the kind of bullshit I pulled. This is not on you, it's just a...universal...Nicholas D Wolfwood malfunction.

The touch on his shoulder, after it made him look up, startled, because had he let someone else approach without actually noticing? made him actually breathe a little easier, if just a bit. Then he pressed his lips together, lowering his head once more in shame for needing something that was so draining for the other. He still didn't close off completely.

"Don't... exhaust yoursef all over again. Please?" He wasn't shaking the touch off, but it needed to be said, more than he needed to be silent.

He took a longer moment to respond to the rest, his eyes drifting closed. That this was likely the wrong time was a relief, real and deep. It let the dread fade, if not the pain. One less was, at least, better. "I told him the plants have all been taken. There is no world in which he would not have gone to check, whatever you may have told him." Oh, Vash understood that much. It was the rest that festered in his heart, but that was his own fault, and the ghost was already worried enough.

His eyes stung again, and he squeezed them against it.

"I don't know what happened in JuLai. I had not reached it yet. But he's from after, and he said I died. Both me and ... Millions Knives. I tried to tell him it wouldn't have killed us, but that just made it worse." The energy behind the words trailed off, and he breathed out a soft sigh and fell quiet for another long moment.

"If you go, be careful." He couldn't tell him what to do, not beyond the plea he started with. But this much, he could ask.

He pulled his hand away quickly when he realized he'd startled him, only barely returning the touch to his shoulder for a brief moment after he settled back down.

I'm ok, Blondie. The other day was...an entire chain of awful. It added up fast. He rubbed gently again, gave him a few solid pats, and then the hand was gone. It wasn't worth worrying him.

The more he listened, the more sure he felt that he was right, that the other Wolfwood was being a belligerent little shit and working the two of them into a frenzy over nothing. But he let him speak, sitting close enough to him that he could touch again if he seemed to need...something. He couldn't offer much, but he didn't want to just leave him hanging. Finally, when he'd settled, he gave himself a moment to make sure he wouldn't interrupt if he tried to say something else, and then whispered back out, gentle but firm.

Ok, that's good news, actually. December wasn't...some random chance event for me. It was payback. They wanted me gone, I'd kicked the wam's nest and they knew my weakness. He's gonna be fine, mijo. Still needs a backhand upside the head for bein' a little shit, but he'll be alright.

And he's wrong about JuLai, too. I was still pretty young when that happened. He'd barely been a part of the Eye for a handful of years, at that point. Still fully-grown physically, but numerically he'd still been too young to legally buy his own smokes without the fake ID they'd given him. Obvously, you and Knives both made it out of the destruction. Took about eight years for your brother to show back up, but you were...Iunno. I never found out. But obviously still around, still dodgin' bounties. I met you the day your brother...rolled back into town. To put it delicately. Guy had sure had a sick, twisted way of making an entrance as far as Wolfwood was concerned.

His brow furrowed at him in slight bewilderment, but he shook his head. The guy was out of it as it was. Or maybe he didn't want to risk leaving Rem out here by herself.

Even if I went by myself, I'd be fine. Only thing they could do t'me is wear me out. I'd just go back to the void and sleep it off. We'd probably have a better chance of talkin' 'im down from whatever proverbial ledge he'd wound up on if we both went. Or would you rather stick with your mom? It's up t'you, Needle-Noggin.

"Oh."

It once again took a long moment to manage more words than that. But the reassurances really did help. They didn't alleviate the pressure of Vash's own failures, but the additional horror of having chased Wolfwood to his death was receding. His chin was back on top of his knees, and the reassurance-and-affection around him rose up again, faint but steady.

"It... I don't know if it will be a good idea or a bad idea to go. My mere presence... would work him up. Because he thinks he betrayed me. Because he was guide to my death. So anything I try to help with, to give him..." It only made things worse. "But I'd be there if there is something wrong. If he needs help."

He closed his eyes again.

"Give me a little time to think about it?"

The slow return of that affection-comfort-emotion thing that Vash did came as a relief, but less for what it was intending to do and more for the fact that he was able to do it at all. Baby steps, he was relaxing, that was the important thing, even if it was going to take a bit more time.

He smiled at him kindly, unseen as it was, and even found himself...thinking feelings of reassurance back at him, though he doubted it was a thing he could even feel, whatever it was he could do. He wasn't even alive, let alone a Plant. There was very little chance of it having any effect.

Whatever you decide, it's up to you. But if it makes you feel any better...he'll come around, eventually. I did, when I was in his place. It took me damn near a year to do it, and I regretted not doin' it sooner, but I got there in the end. And he'd hated every second of those 8 months, knowing Vash was inside that chamber, with those assholes doing God-only knew what to him. I think...mostly right now, he's prob'ly just dealin' with a lot of hate he's got directed inside. Before I met you, I tried to tell myself I didn't care about the people I killed. An' then you got into my head an' changed all that. It took me a long time t'figure out how to deal with what I was feelin'.

And Wolfwood was, if nothing else, a stubborn fucker. Nobody was going to tell him how to feel, nobody was going to tell him what he thought, and how dare they think they could know him better than he knew himself? He didn't care about people, that was how you got yourself killed! He didn't deserve it, he wasn't capable of caring. He was a murderer, that was it.

It had all been a massive load of Grade-A Tomashit, in the end. But boy, had it taken a lot for him to realize that. Hell, a good portion of it, he hadn't really even worked out until he was already dead, and some of it still lingered even now. At least it was bearable, now.

Vash listened, and his eyes lowered again, face free of the masking smile and just. A little sad, a little thoughtful.

"Thank you. It... helps, the reassurance." It was not something he often had.

"I don't even want him to 'come around' for my sake. Yes, having his presence, his friendship, is so good, but. It's mostly that I want him to hurt less, and he's hurting so much, right now. So if I'm the one causing the hurt, it's easy to..." Give up. Run.

That didn't sound right.

"I don't know how to make him hurt less. Not when he sees me as another person who's let him down, or will let him down. Someone he got to cause the death of, anyway."

It was easy to see how, even with the reassurances helping to ease some of the pain, things were still weighing on him, so he let him talk, let him take his time to process what he was trying to say. But it reminded him, too, of what his life had been, how rough things had been before he'd met Vash and how, even with all of the pain and turmoil that surrounded his life afterward, even with those events leading him to his own death, just how important Vash had become, and maybe not in any ways that he'd been able too articulate. There simply hadn't been enough time.

When his voice came again, there was an emotional undercurrent there. This was...heavy. But important, maybe, that he lay it out there.

Vash...my life was full of pain, but none of that was your fault. It started so much earlier than meeting you. You were the only good thing that ever happened to me. Before I met you...I didn't think anyone gave a shit about me. I didn't have any friends, I didn't have any family, I was too fucked up, too monstrous, too blood-soaked to be able to go back home. The only safety I'd known was at the orphanage, and everything after they took me out of there was...I was...so alone.

You never failed me. I failed you, in so many ways. But you still cared. You still wanted me to be better, you wanted me to be happy, even when I didn't think I deserved it. And I didn't...I...I didn't realize how much it mattered...until it was too late. His voice cracked softly, and he had to take a moment. I...I didn't think anyone would care if I was gone. Just one more murderer who couldn't hurt anyone else, right? So when I thought they were gonna kill everyone at the orphanage, I didn't even hesitate to dose myself up so high on those drugs that I knew I was a dead man walkin', because it meant I might have enough strength to save 'em before it took me.

But...but you'd...Vash...he'd followed me. I wouldn't have been fast enough even then, but suddenly he was there, protectin' them, because he was worried about me. Because he cared about me. All that time...every day we'd been travelin' together....he was the only friend I ever had, and I was too stupid to realize how much he cared until I'd already killed myself.

He was crying, there was no way he could hide it in his voice, now, so he didn't even try.

It wasn't even like he didn't tell me he cared, either. Not with words, no, but I wouldn't have listened if he'd tried. But every day, he went out of his way to show me he cared, even when I turned my back on him, even when I didn't trust 'im, even when I was just some hired gun, leadin' him to his brother. And I was just too stupid to believe it. And I-...! I...I never got to tell him how much it meant to me, cuz by the time I understood, tellin' him how much he meant to me would have just hurt him more, because I was dead. Sittin' up, talkin' to 'im, waitin' for it to hit, but still dead.

Vash, I promise, if your Nicholas is anything like I was...you aren't failin' him. You aren't hurtin' him. You're the only thing that helps the hurt go away. It's just that all he's known is hurt, and he doesn't know how to feel anything else, yet. So he finds this one poor sap who makes him feel like someone might care about 'im, an' he refuses to listen to it, an' he just keeps doin' what he knows how to do, which is hurt that poor sap because that's what he's told to do, cause if he does that, then maybe they won't hurt the kids he misses and the closest thing he ever had to a mom. He's hurtin' himself. Knowin' he's stabbed the only other person who might give a damn about him in the back is what's hurtin'. It's not somethin' you did. It's all on him. He's runnin' cause he doesn't know any better. He's a dumbass who doesn't know how to deal with someone makin' him feel somethin' other than hurt for the first time in a long, long time.

I mean it when I say that comin' back won't be for your sake. He's gonna be selfish. He's not gonna think he deserves to be around you, but you're the only good thing he has in his life, an' stayin' away is gonna mean stayin' away from the one person who makes the pain go away, even just a little bit. Which...makes this all sound a whole lot more bleak than I wanted it to. I really stopped havin' a filter when I kicked the bucket, didn't I?

It didn't help his mood any that he was suddenly reminded, very viscerally, of how much he missed the Vash he'd spent his life with. It had been weeks since he had seen him. He didn't even know where he was, or where to start. The man next to him was still Vash, still someone he could see himself easily becoming just as addicted to as he had the other man. But it didn't change the fact that he wasn't the same.

Why did that make him feel more lonely right now than he had in all the years after his death, following him silently, without interacting, without letting himself be known? He'd had the first actual human interactions in the past few weeks than he'd had in decades combined. But right now, he just...felt lonely. He wished he could go back home and have this all be some dream.

[Testing out a tiny bluetooth keyboard I got specifically for when I don't want to be at the computer but have my phone, so oops on any typos. Seems so far, so good, at least.]

There was so much. So much that this Wolfwood was giving him, that it was overwhelming in the state Vash was in. But oh... Oh.

He curled in on himself, assaulted by the emotions - the tears, the loneliness - as much as the words. All the could give back was a brief apology, an emotion rather than words, and then love, pouring all his heart out, because he could give nothing else. So he would give, and give, and give, without hesitation or reservation.

"Don't... don't worry about having a filter. All your words are precious to me. And... I hope you can return to him soon. Your Vash. Your friend."

The hope was sincere and the only emotion coloring the words, when they eventually came. Wolfwood really had had to deal with so much pain, wanting to take away some of it was just natural.

[The emotion-sense Vash sent at him hit suddenly, in a way that he was unused to having directed at him, and it felt like a gunshot, like a heart attack, so strong that it made him gasp at the pain, clutching at his chest, and for a long stretch of time he went silent as he broke down into tears.

Fuck.

He hadn't doubted he was loved, not for a long, long time. It had been one of the reasons he had been able to feel at peace when he'd died. But to feel it, it overwhelmed him with joy and with grief and gratitude that he wasn't equipped to handle after so long going unseen and unperceived. And at the same time, he felt a wave of profound sadness as Vash's words sank in, a deep guilt at the sudden thought that of course. Of course Vash would want to hear his words, to remember him, to carry his legacy if there was no one else who could. And that hurt, too, because he was placing a heavy burden on him, dumping so much on a man who already carried so much pain on his shoulders.

His legacy was over, dead and buried in a small grave just outside of December, and carried on in the lives and families of the children he'd given his life to save so many years ago. There was no need to force someone to listen to what words he still had to give. He was happy with the legacy he'd left behind, and he had been content not to bring more sadness into the life of the man he'd cared so much about.

It didn't matter, that the Vash he who was trying to be there for a dead man, as if he needed someone to care for him, as if he wasn't beyond all need of comfort and support, wasn't the one who had buried him in the ground. The distance between him and the events that had happened to Wolfwood didn't mean he would feel that any less deeply. Vash still cared, he would always care, more than he needed to, even to the detriment to his own well-being.

Wolfwood had gone so long without letting himself be known that he had stopped remembering how much the guilt weighed on him, knowing he was causing him more pain.]

Vash-...Please don't let me be too much. [He struggled to keep his voice steady, but it was hard to keep that pleading tone out of his words.] I know you want to help. I know...I know this...is important to you, somehow. But you don't have to carry this, ok? I lived my life, Mijo, there's nothin' left of me that needs to be remembered after that. Please, please tell me if...if me bein' here is too much. I can leave, if you need that. I wanna help, shit's gotten weird around here, real fast, an' none of us knows what's really goin' on. But not if it means makin' you carry more grief, entiendes? It gets to be too much for you, I can make myself scarce faster than you can blink, and I'm ok with that.

Vash winced at the feedback of pain, and raised his arms in a sign of surrender, withdrawing everything he had been sending out to let Wolfwood find his balance on his own before he tries to help. (Useless. Useless. Doing more damage than good.)

A few breaths, and then he makes himself think of the words, and he smiles, one of the small and actually slightly sad ones.

"You don't need to worry. I can't allow myself to break, but even if I could... you caring, all that you've given me... well, him, but also me, because you've tried to help me so much, also. Anyway, all of it, that would not break me. It's ... a little prickly, it's true, but all that you've opened up to me with, I want to hold close to my heart. As safekeeping, for the one most of it belongs to. A bright and warm gift.

"So, really. Please don't think you need to protect me from you."

[There was a kind of relief when the waves of emotion receded, but it brought a sting with it as well, because it was clear to see, how in the initial feedback loop of whatever it was that Vash could do, he had upset himself when he was only trying to help. And it strengthened a little voice that had always been in the back of Wolfwood's head, easily ignored in life but stronger after, with the sad knowledge that could have only come with lots and lots of hindsight; They were bad for each other. They cared about each other, yes. But there were hurts the two of them carried that were too similar and too strong, and even as they'd tried to lift each other up to be better than they thought they were, it...also wasn't very good for them. They hurt each other without wanting to, or lead each other into hurting themselves, and they were too damn addicted to each other to be able to let go.

This? If he'd been able to recognize these things when he was still alive? Might have sent him running for the hills much sooner than he had, and he would have dealt with the consequences at the orphanage on his own, before he'd gotten Vash wrapped up so much in his life. But would it have helped, in the end? Vash...had never been the type to turn his back on anyone. He would have followed him after him the second he knew that Nicholas was in trouble, even on the first day he'd met that weird, wandering "priest," stranded in the desert and half-buried in the dunes while he waited for a ride to come by.

Which meant even now, knowing that...in some ways, even as they tried to offer what support they could in whatever this was, between himself and this man, the impulse might have been there, to just leave. But he wouldn't. It would just cause more hurt than it would help. It still didn't help the sadness he felt, knowing that even as much as he told him he was happy for the chance to know him, he was still causing Vash pain.

He supposed that was just...going to be a constant fact of life. He would have to learn to accept that he would always be a source of pain for any Stampede he met, even if the man was literally incapable of not also finding some way of...enjoying his company? Loving him, even if he knew it wasn't quite the same as the man he knew back home because they weren't the same, hadn't lived the same experiences, but simply because that was just what Vash did. It was...a slight, strange sort of comfort, to remind himself that he would have felt this way about anyone. He still wasn't quite sure what to do with himself about it, though. He still hated knowing he was causing him pain, even a little.]

You deserve to be happy, too. Please remember that. You go out of your way to make things easier for other people, and you make yourself take on so much of the world's hurts, and I know there's not a thing anyone's gonna do to make that change. Just...please try an' remember that your happiness is important to, ok...?

[He wasn't really sure if that was the right response. It...didn't exactly fit anything Vash had said, but it felt like something he needed to say, regardless.

Even as the words gently sank in, now that the tumultuous emotions that had flared up began to settle and he was left with a bit more of a clear head, about how he wanted to keep his words safe, for the Vash he'd never had a chance to tell them to. As it gave him a small, new, sad wave of worry, that maybe...he never would. Maybe he really was just...gone. In some other, far-off reality that he would never see again.

He shifted, pulling his knees up underneath his chin and staring out at the crater in the distance, and sat on that thought. What was he supposed to do with that?]

I don't...I don't know what I'm supposed t'do, now. If I never find 'im again. What if he's not here...? How-...how long do I keep looking? [In the end, if he was gone...there was only one thing left for him. But...the thought of making that decision without him was...He couldn't. Not yet. He didn't know when, but not yet, not on his own. It had become his entire reason for existing, and the loss of that was terrifying.

He moved his head to look back over at Vash, and after a moment reached out to touch his hand, gently, knowing he would worry that it was too much for him but wanting the contact regardless.]

I know I'm not much use to anyone, and I just kind've...imposed myself on you an' Rem, but... [He didn't want to leave. He was afraid to leave.] Thank you. For letting me be here. For listenin' to me rant.

[ You deserve to be happy, too. Please remember that. Vash froze, not even breathing for a long moment, brain shorting out for a long moment. ]

That's... one of the first things I heard you say. The... you that I know I mean. We'd found a kid hiding, at a fill-up stop where the adults were shot. And you took out a lollipop and gave it to the kid, and said everyone deserves to be happy, and have food in their belly.

... the kid was Zazzie, but it's still memorable. And it still...

Everyone is everyone, and then there's me. Too different. I both wanted it to apply to me and ... didn't think it did. And even when you say it to me right now...

[ His voice went quieter, so that Rem, or anyone else, would not hear him. There were things he'd admit to a very small number of people. That he will not try to hide from a very small number of people, if they went and poked at certain topics. He would not make anyone deal with said topics on purpose. ]

I don't know how it's possible, you know. On the better days, I tend to just aim for not... not hurting too much all the time. [ He took a deep breath, because he knew these words would have caused pain. ] But I can try.

[ He was probably setting himself up for another failure (what was one more?) but he still meant it. He would try.

He took a deep breath. ]

You haven't imposed yourself. Not on me, at any rate. It... all that time, you have wisdom that sometimes makes me put things into perspective. Even when I don't listen, it helps, you know? And I know I'm not him, so it probably only helps you so much to hear that, but.

If he's not here, who is to say that you cannot go back? Things that go one way can sometimes go back, right?

[Sometimes, the not being able to touch, to hold and comfort and simply be physically present for him, either of them, was the hardest thing. The only hard thing, it seemed, at times. There had been so many nights over the years, so many bad days, when something had gone wrong; someone had died, he'd been hurt in a way that would leave another of those large, disfiguring scars and left him bedridden for days or weeks, or maybe the things he'd been holding back had just built up to the point where he couldn't hold it in anymore, and the man he knew had broken down once he'd thought he was alone. Vash had always been a crier, Wolfwood had teased him about it plenty enough times when he was alive, but there was a difference between the little spells of tears he had when he was playing up the image of being a harmless old man or something hit him in just the right way that it made him get a little emotional even if it wasn't that big of a deal, and when the weight became too much for him. Those were the nights when Wolfwood hurt with him, grieved for the pain Vash constantly forced himself to live through and lamented his own complete inability to do a damn thing to ease any of those burdens.

This...wasn't as bad as those days, no, but he still felt the inability to offer physical comfort now, almost as much as he did then. He was so. Useless.]

I know, Vash. I know. I think...that has to be a universal constant. Both of you try so hard to hide it. I...I think he would be ashamed...to know...how many times I've seen that pain break him down. I'm sorry I can't take some of that away, for him or you. And I wish I could say it'll go away, but it would be a lie. Nobody deserves to hurt like you do. [And more than anything, he wished there was some way he could make him see the struggles he'd been through the way Wolfwood did; how hard he tried, over and over to atone for something that had been out of his control by forcing himself to suffer, and how much that pain had tipped the scales so, so long ago. There were no sins he could have committed so great that he hadn't already paid for them a thousand times over. He didn't need to let himself hurt. He deserved peace, more than maybe anyone else on the planet.

But he also knew that that pain ran too deep for anything he said to make much of a difference, no matter how much he wished he could. Vash was, in so many ways, so strong. But he was also so broken. It had been a source of frustration when he'd been alive and unable to understand the symptoms he had been seeing, those little quirks and idiosyncrasies that he'd mistaken for sheer stubborn idiocy. Vash wasn't well, he just hid it well. This one? He was a bit different, sure. But enough of the pieces matched, it wasn't hard to see a lot of the same breaks in him that he recognized from his own friend.]

And for what it's worth, that...doesn't sound that dissimilar from how I first met him. There were a couple kids, they tried to pickpocket me for what change I had. He was so surprised, when I gave them what money I could spare. I think he knew who I was, even that early, and he didn't expect it. Your idiot would have known he was talkin' to Zazie, so...pfft. He sounds like a bit of a basket case, honestly, thinkin' about it. 'Cause that means he was absolutely talkin' to you an' not the worm. But...look. He won't have known you well enough at that point to mean it in the moment, he'd have been makin' a show of it. But...it's probably still somethin' he believes, even if he tries to pretend otherwise.

[He shifted, thinking about his words and how to explain this, his own motives and actions as opposed to those of the other man. He was getting threads tangled and probably being more confusing than helpful.]

I don't know if I'm makin' a lot of sense. So it's like...Ok. When I helped those kids, I just saw a couple kids who needed help. Dunno if you've noticed yet, but they're kind of my weakness. And especially back then, I was...always lyin', pretendin' that I didn't care, that I hated everyone, that nothin' mattered, right? And honestly, for a long time, I believed it myself, too. But not for kids. They've always been one of the few things that could cut through all my bullshit. So for just a second, a couple kids needed help, and I didn't care about impressin' some mark, makin' him think I was somethin' I wasn't so he'd trust me. I just wanted to help.

Which probably sounds like I'm makin' myself out to be some kinda saint or somethin', and I'll be the first to admit I'm the farthest from it. But that doesn't change the fact that even when I screamed and raged and told myself I didn't...I really do want the best for people. It's just that...sometimes...sometimes what's best...doesn't seem kind. I want this to be a world where people can be happy, and live their lives without all this pain and death makin' 'em miserable. But sometimes people are so fucked up, the only way to make their pain stop, or to make them stop spreadin' that pain to other innocent people, is through a bullet. And sometimes they're too broken to be able to ask for it themselves.

[He swatted his fingertips through Vash's hand, a flash of sensation intended to startle him out of the protests he knew that philosophy was sure to bring out of him.]

And before you say anything, I know. I know that goes against everything you stand for. It's why we always used to butt heads as hard as we did. So lemme finish.

Anyway, the hard part was always knowin' which ones were the ones that death was a mercy for, and I used to figure it was just better to get it over with sooner rather than later, instead of trying to figure out the answer.

But...I was...for a long time, I was also one of the ones who didn't know how to ask for it. I just kept waitin' for the day when someone else would make the right shot and do it for me. And then Vash started showin' me the gaps in my reasoning, and started breakin' me out of that dark place so I was able to try and be better.

Where was I goin' with this...? Oh, right, right, Your Idiot. So what I'm sayin' is that...if I was him. And I had been in his place. That sounds like somethin' I would have said to make you trust me, but...also because deep down, it's what he wants to be the truth. If he were me, right now, admitting to that is dangerous for him. He can't let himself be weak. He's not ready for that. And I dunno, maybe we're different. Maybe I'm wrong. But your not so different from My Idiot, you know? So who knows, maybe I'm right.

[He went quiet again, a small thought rolling through his mind, something he'd said tickling with the memories he had, and something he'd been trying to say to Vash, and he reached back out to put his hand more fully over his hand. This isn't just rambling. There's a strong thought in these words, not just the kind of stream-of-consciousness rambling that he's grown accustomed to doing when no one else can hear him and he's bored.]

And...What I said, about...being one of the ones who couldn't ask for mercy? There are a lot of times when My Idiot is one of those, too. [His voice was softer for that, sad, but there was still a tone in his words that said there was something being said between the lines, if Vash would listen for it.] I know the things I went through can't ever compare to the suffering he's been through, but...that's why I mean it, when I say that nobody deserves to hurt like that. I know what I felt like, and it's still not the same as what he's goin' through. And nobody as good as he is... [He let a pointed silence linger in the air, made an effort to physically grip his hand.] ...could ever have done anything to deserve to hurt as much as he does.

[But then...that just brought him back full circle, to mercy at the end of the barrel of a gun, and he gave a long, weary, audible sigh.]

And sometimes it hurts, knowin' how much he wishes it was over, and...sometimes...sometimes I think about how he'll finally have the peace he wants so much, when he's finally on this side with me, and I wish I could give it to him. But I don't...I don't know if I could be the one to do it, if somehow I was able to hold a gun again. And I don't know if that makes me a coward or a hypocrite. The thought of...the thought of bein' the one to take his life, even if it gave him peace...

[He was spiraling again, and he had to take a moment, clenching his teeth and taking deep breaths to calm himself. He imagined a cigarette and a lighter into his hands, lighting it and dragging deep breaths into his lungs to draw the imaginary nicotine in, all a placebo, an act of habit that still somehow managed to help center him and calm his nerves. Even as he flicked the nonexistent lighter closed with a metallic snap and shook the hand that held it to dispel the thing back into wherever his little imaginary things went to, it had already begun to help focus his breathing and his thoughts back away from such a dark place.

He didn't look back up at him when he shook his head, thinking about the reassurances he gave that he wasn't an imposition, that somehow he was worth listening to, and especially after that little grotesque detour that had started off as a way of trying to let Vash know that he understood and had ended in something entirely worse, he found that a little hard to believe.]

I'm not wise, I'm just an ornery son of a bitch who's stuck around well past his expiration date and has got his head screwed on all funny because of it. Still...It doesn't matter that you're not Him, Blondie. It's probably rich, comin' from me, but don't compare yourself to him. You're not just...a poor substitute, or whatever you wanna think you are to me. No, you're not him, but you're still important, too. Which...is honestly why I'm really more hopin' he shows up here, instead of the other way around. I'd worry about you an' the others. And...maybe it'd do him some good, to meet some of the people who're here. Rem, you...I dunno about your little sister. Maybe if she gets better. But...either way...he'd have people here who could support 'im. He wouldn't be alone, anymore. He could finally have a family here...

[ Vash did not know at what point in all of that he started having trouble breathing, but by the end he just... could not. His chest was working hard to expand even a little, hurting so badly he didn't know what to do. He kept making it work, however, one quiet, labored breath after another. That was why the twitch at the ghostly touch was barely there, and it did not... make him able to raise his eyes to even try to seek out where the invisible friend was.

In the end, his thoughts started picking at some parts of it all, probably... trying to stay away from thoughts about his Wolfwood. Or the Wolfwood that was more like his, anyway. At this point, he couldn't know. But it just hurt too much, the look that had been on his face, the words that he'd said to him. He knew, he understood what the ghost was telling him, and of course he understood why Wolfwood would have said them. But even as the ghost said... he'd say things that were false but also true at the same time. And he, Vash, had suffocated him enough to make him say such things. ]

It's why... it's part of why I can never ... I can rarely really accept that it's a mercy. Because if they hold on long enough, life can become worth living again. As it did for you. Life is precious, and so fragile. So easy to end, or twist. Just because I can doesn't mean I should do it. [ The next breath did rattle, for all he kept his voice quiet to barely above a whisper. ] And there was Tessla. I heard you there, loud and clear. And if she... if she'd wanted to, I'd have done it for her. But she was so, so very young, when it all happened. She couldn't know what life can be without the pain. And now she can find out.

[ He paused, then hunched a little more, somehow. This was probably going to be a disappointment for the ghost, too, but. ]

Even if you could hold the gun, it would take a lot more than that to... to do it for him. A gun would just be another pain to recover from. Another scar. So it's probably better that you did not find a way.

[ His eyes lowered a little more, too, but at least his voice was a little clearer. ]

I hope he can come and find a family. It's... a kind of a miracle. But ... don't expect even that to be easy on him.

[ A corner of his mouth tugged up, helplessly. He hardly needed to point at himself on that note. He apprciated so, so very much the fact that they existed, here and now. And it made him feel even guiltier, the way he was right now. Helpless and in pain, when there was so much to be grateful and glad and even happy about.

In the end, his voice dropped all the way down to a whisper. ]

I'm sorry.

[When he looked back at him properly, he could see the way his breathing struggled, and how the things he had said somehow made it worse, even if it seemed...different, somehow, from the way it had been worse before. He sighed, tired, wishing he could know before he said them, which words would help and which ones would hurt.

But he sat when he spoke, and he listened, actually listened to understand, more than he'd ever had the ability to do when he was alive and their debates had been arguments and not discussions, raised voices and hot tempers and not two people trying to bridge a gap, the way he was able to wish they could have been, now.]

...For what it's worth, I started to agree with you, a little, before the end. I...wanted...to be able to live more like you wanted me to. I don't know what the answer is. At one point, I thought I did.

[Thoughts of Tessla were...even more conflicting, to be honest. He remembered the little girl as he'd first met her, so many years ago, an angry, terrified little soul who barely knew what kindness felt like, and he remembered the slow, hard process of making himself feel "safe," less scary, until he was able to earn her trust enough that he could help her cross over where she wouldn't have to be afraid anymore.

Compared to the creature he'd seen out in the desert, that little girl had been easy. Her entire existence was...so nightmarish, so horrific, that even hearing that they'd been able to help her and maybe now she would be ok, he didn't know if it death still wouldn't be a kinder option. But he was also willing to admit that his perspective on the matter was, by this point, probably not very reliable.]

I'm glad I was wrong. She didn't deserve what happened to her. And I know...I know havin' t'do that for her would have really hurt you, too. I'm glad you didn't listen to me.

[The thought that a single, well-placed bullet wouldn't be enough to give him peace was, unfortunately, something that had been hiding in the back of his mind for maybe as long as he'd known Vash, so it wasn't exactly a shock to hear it coming from this man. But it was uncomfortable, hurt to know that even if he begged for it, he couldn't grant him that release.]

There really isn't anything I can do, even if I wanted to. [It wasn't a question, just a confirmation of things he hadn't put into words but had been struggling with for a long time, regardless.] I'm...I'm not surprised, honestly. Maybe I could have found a way, if I were still alive, but...I'd just end up hurtin' him even worse, like this.

[And then Vash was admonishing himself in a way, without saying as much, for not being able to find comfort in the miracle he'd been given, and Nicholas cooed softly, shaking his head and leaning closer, wanting to hold but crowding in as close to his personal space as he could without touching so that his voice could be soft and reassuring, giving the semblance of a hold he couldn't give purely by the proximity.]

No, Vash, you don't have to apologize. I know. It's ok. You don't have to be alright. You've been through so much, you've been hurtin' so long, it's not just gonna go away the day things start gettin' better. You gotta be kind to yourself. It's ok if it takes time.

[It had taken him so long to start finding his own equilibrium, once he'd been beyond pain and out of the reach of the suffering the world always wanted to inflict on the living. Was it the same? Could it even compare to what finding yourself alive and finally in a place where life was easier after all that suffering must feel like? He didn't know, it was such an unequal frame of reference, but somehow, it felt like it might not be too different, despite how they got there.]

[ What the ghost was giving him was soothing and reassuring, in more ways that Vash could have put into words. It was just that he was so deeply in the mess that was inside his head that better was still hard, very difficult, and he still felt like he was drowning, even when he should have been able to settle by now. To take the comfort that was given to him.

But for a long moment, his breathing was finally settling back down. His expression twisted in commiseration with the helplessness, something he quite understood, even if not for this particular subject.

But then the last, close words came, and Vash's eyes went so, so wide, lips parting a little, before he pressed the back of his hand against them, and the sound that came was, really, a choked down sob, even if his eyes remained dry, and he bit his lips, and then his hand, to stop any more from coming out. The way those last sentences came through, on top of the fact that, no, nobody had said anything remotely close to them before, just struck so deeply he almost broke.

It took a long, long moment, before he could find words again. ]

It-- I thought-- I just-- [ He breathed in, sharply, and he added, barely audibly. ] Feels like it's one more thing that I'm failing at.

[ And the list was so, so long. ]

[The sight of him breaking down, fighting against it every step of the way, made him reach out, his hands hovering close for only a moment before he gave in and focused. He reached for the hand he was biting, holding it and pulling it away so that he could rub his thumb soothingly against whatever teeth marks he might have left, if and when he let him take it. His other hand reached up higher, brushing through his hair, stroking his fingers along his scalp before cupping his cheek and letting his thumb brush gentle touches underneath his eye. He didn't know what it would feel like for him, only that he couldn't stand to sit back and watch him in pain and not hold him in some way, even with the way the contact made his skin feel like electricity was zinging along under his skin.]

Vash, no, you aren't failin anything. You're doing the best you can, when everything has tried so hard to break you down for so long. You've been hurt, so many times, in so many ways, an' you just keep pushin' yourself harder an' harder despite all the hurt. It's alright t'not be able to take it all! No one should expect that of you! I don't care what some weird cultists might try an' say, you're not a God, Mijo. You've done so, so much for so many people. You're allowed t'need rest, to need a break from the pain, I promise.

[ It felt. Faint. And cool. But even in the state he was in, he realized quickly what was happening, and he yielded his arm at the ethereal tug, blinking for a moment at the soothing, something he was very much not used to, even though Rem was doing her best - not in this specific way, but generally. Then his eyes widened. ]

Hey... hey, don't exhaust yoursef on my account!

[ ... but he also did not pull his face away from that gentle touch, blinking slightly, and trying to get his voice under control because it was sounding way too rough and... wet. ]

It's just that... I fail all the time. Over and over again. I - I can't stop trying, but it feels so useless some of the time. [ A small, watery smile. ] I won't stop trying, it'll be all right. But now I have things I couldn't allow myself to dream of before. Rem is here. Tess. And yet... and yet I'm feeling miserable and wanting to be out here, rather than with either of them. Or even finding the you that's alive. Or going to Octovern to find out what is happening. Yet I'm just... [ His fingers wiggled, a little. ] Here.

[He squeezed the hand tighter, instead of letting it go when Vash protested, and brushed his fingers against his cheek again, reinforcing the thought that he wasn't going to pull away.]

Blondie, I'm fine. I can touch a little, that ain't what wore me out. [He wasn't going to point out that he was doing it again, focusing on someone else's wellbeing instead of letting himself be cared for, an especially egregious instance, when Wolfwood was perfectly fine, well-rested and in no danger to himself, and not even corporeal on top of it. Maybe some other time. He didn't need a lecture right now, he needed comfort, and by God, Nicholas by this point was in for a double-penny, in for a double dollar.]

It's fine, if you need to stop sometimes. You're just one person, you can't solve this entire world's problems. An' you've been through some pretty rough shit lately. You're allowed t'need a chance to process it all. And honestly, I'd say it's alright to need to figure out how t'deal with the shock of havin' those two back in your life again. It doesn't mean you don't love 'em, anyone who tried to accuse you of that'd be a damned idiot. But there was a whole lot of trauma for you, all centered on what happened to them when you were a kid, right? You're gonna need time to wrap your brain around all of that.

[He let that hand go, keeping the other hand on his cheek while letting the other ruffle through his hair, putting enough energy into it that he would feel the fringe being brushed by invisible fingers before that hand moved to cup his other cheek]

Give yourself time, Sunshine. No one is blamin' you but yourself. An' Nicholas should be able t'take care of himself. He'll come crawlin' back here in a few days, and you can, Iunno, hide all of his cigarettes or somethin' as payback. Give 'im a little Hell, like me an' my old dumbass used to do to each other when we were bored. Promise, it'll be a lot more fun than you'd expect, once he gets the stick out of his ass.

[Yes, he's saying he was an obnoxious asshole when he was that man's age. He's been able to admit it for a long, long time, now.]

Oh. All right.

[ Vash was unlikely to stop focusing on someone else's wellbeing instead of his own, because he considered everyone more important than himself. But also, lest Wolfwood take it the wrong way, he hastened to add, with a small smile, turning his face ever so slightly into the cool, ethereal touch. ] I'm glad.

[ Then he breathed in, long, and held it in. Dropped his gaze, hands - both of them - twisting the front of his coat a little. His voice dropped again. ]

It...

What if there isn't time? What if they, or me, gets put back, just as suddenly as we were brought in? What if I'm wasting the precious moments granted with either of them.

[ He stopped there, and bit his tongue, hard, to focus away from that spiral. From that yawning abyss. He was not going to stop wasting time if he were to tumble into it.

Instead, he gave a watery laugh, short and low. ]

Sorry... thank you. For making sure I get to hear these things, and that I listen and pay attention to them. And um...

He's hurting a lot and very, very angry. Wouldn't making him angrier be worse?

[ He was actually asking. Before that, he had clicked with Wolfwood and it had been so easy to figure out what he'd needed in some ways. Now... everything he said was wrong. Everything he did.

That he even existed at all, he guessed. ]

[The worries about what might happen if they were sent back home were, once he thought about it, completely understandable for someone in Vash's position, and Wolfwood was quiet as he tried to think of a what to say that might ease that fear. In the end, he simply sighed and patted his cheek again, this time apologetically.]

I dunno, Vash. I wish I did. But there's no sense in being mad at yourself for somethin' that hasn't happened, yet. At the very least, if you tell Rem what you'r'e worried about, she'll understand. I don't think she'd want you beatin' yourself up over this.

[And then the question about the other Nicholas hit, and he had to stop, and actually think, because his first instinct was to laugh and say that was the point. But he'd met the man he suspected was Vash's other Nicholas, brief as the encounter may have been, and he had to admit that no, things didn't exactly line up with how he and his Vash had been. His own rage had been directed in other ways, so that Vash teasing him had only ever been a distraction away from what was making him angry, most of the time. That was probably why he'd done it, a lot of the time. And at the same time, the man in front of him didn't really seem to have the same sort of edge the man he'd known had had. He was quieter, less inclined to his own outward bursts of anger and seemed, from what he'd seen at least, less likely to be just a little shit when the mood struck him. So having him suddenly start doing so might not work so easily for his Wolfwood.

He couldn't help his thoughts drifting, for just a little bit as he considered the differences between them, to the last time he had spoken to his Vash, to one of the few memories that was still able to make him feel true sadness after all this time. Not for himself, but for Vash, how he'd tried, even though he had to have known what was happening, to deflect and irritate, to bring things back to their normal equilibrium, as if continuing to annoy and pester each other would somehow keep the inevitable at bay. And how, when Wolfwood had snapped, the anger viscerally different than what it normally would have been, he had left him with no other option but to shut down. Sometimes he wished he could tell him that he hadn't really been angry, that he understood why he'd wanted so hard to keep things the way they'd always been between them, and that he was sorry it couldn't have stayed that way.]

I don't know. Maybe. It's just what me an' Vash did when we were havin' trouble dealin' with things. But you're your own people, too. Maybe that's just not your way, an' that's alright. I think, when I met him, he was just very stuck in a loop of his own self-loathing. It might be hard to break him out of that before he's ready. But maybe by the time he comes back, he'll be ready to listen to something other than what's going on inside his own head. Just...keep doin' what you normally do. That'll be the most familiar to 'im. When he's ready to meet you at your level, it's what he'll need. He'll be able to tell if you're makin' yourself into something your not.

And you don't have to thank me, Vash. I'm here now, yeah? And you know I'm here, now, so it wouldn't be right for me to just...not. I can't just sit back and watch you suffer. It's...[He paused, a sudden, small moment of clarity hitting him that brought tears to his eyes and made him feel a little wave of guilt.] All this time...every time he's...needed someone...I've had to sit back and just...watch. I...I never helped. Maybe...maybe it's just...kind of nice. Not having to let you suffer in silence, too. Now that it's not possible for me to stay hidden anymore, not like before...

I've wanted to be there for him so many times, and I just...wasn't, not the way he needed me to be. I wish so much that I had. That I'd been able to.
But it would have just made things worse, wouldn't it?

[It's spoken like a statement, not a question. One of those hard, brutal facts of the world that you couldn't change, like gravity or the passage of time. Because of course, forcing himself to be perceived would have only delayed Vash's ability to process the grief. Even if he still mourned him, surely time must have made it easier to deal with. Letting himself be known would have surely kept the wound open, as raw and painful as the day it had happened. It was kinder this way, right? He deserved to be allowed to move on as best as he could.]

[ One day, somebody would realize there were two very effective ways to break Vash out of his broken moods. Not to make him better, exactly, but to stop him from making it worse on himself.

One of those was having someone he could help, someone who needed his help.

The other was reminding him that some things had common-sense solutions. Talk to Rem, for example. Because his mind was sharp enough to recognize that she would understand what he meant, and even if she had no solutions, she would be able to help him figure out something.

In the span of a few sentences, the ghost managed to hit both of those, and he was rewarded with blue eyes focusing more, a little bit of color starting to return to Vash's face. It was slow, and he was still far from okay, but he was no longer spiraling or trying to disconnect from the world. ]

Mmm... Maybe worse, maybe better. But you don't get to change what's done, so don't think too much about it, all right? If he shows up, then you might be able to help. If nothing else, with other yous running around, it will likely be a comfort that his you hasn't abandoned him.

[ The past was an abyss that could swallow any of them. Vash was reasonably good at focusing on the present and the future instead. When he was not drowning, at least. ]

[Maybe one day, he would notice just what it was that needed to be done to direct Vash towards less self-destructive thought processes. He'd had unknown numbers of years to just sit and watch him, but without interacting with him directly, it wasn't something he'd really been able to catch on his own.

That didn't mean the shift in his expressions and the way he seemed to come out of his head went unmissed, and he sighed softly, thankful for whatever it was that he'd said that seemed to have helped, a small smile crossing his face and mostly lingering there even as Vash gave him something to think about. Something that hurt his heart to look back on, but also to try and ponder more clearly for the future, in as much of a future as he had to ponder. It would have simply looked a little more somber as he considered the words, if he'd been letting himself be seen.]

Yeah? [A beat as he thought for a moment.] Yeah, maybe your right. At this point...it'd be harder for me to go unnoticed if he showed up, anyway, wouldn't it?

[And then the smile was gone again. Thinking about him like this, talking about him, made it harder than he was used to, to not feel a little regretful, a little sad. When it had just been himself following one man, talking to hear himself talk and fill the time, it had been easy to let the worries about the Ifs and What Could Have Beens slide away unpondered. He had existed moment to moment, letting time and the world around them pass by without much of a glance. Making an effort to exist and actually be a part of the world again was...exhausting, in a way.]

But...that's the thing, isn't it? Maybe in a way...I have. Or as good as. I haven't been there for him when he needed me, not in any way that would matter. Not when I could have. What I'm doin' right now, with you? It's...not somethin' this place lets me do. I always could, if I tried. But I didn't.

[That was what Rem had been doing, when he opened his eyes for the first time in this existence and she was there; watching silently, never trying to be heard. And he'd never stopped to ask why, or consider that maybe it would have been ok to reach out to him. Everything had been too disorienting in the beginning, and by the time he'd settled into the new reality, it had just seemed...like the way things needed to be.]

Maybe...maybe I should change that. If-...when...I see 'im again. I don't know that I could just...go back to the way things were, again. Not easily. Maybe I'm just missin' 'im too much to think about it properly, though. I dunno.

[He gave a small sigh, and then made the conscious effort to drag his thoughts out of the darkness they'd begun miring themselves in, forcing another small smile on his face and reaching down to hold his hands.]

Enough of my moping, though. You eaten anything yet? [He didn't have the ability to pretend that it was something he needed, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try and get Vash to eat, anyway. Vash was an emotional eater, it helped lift his spirits when he was having a bad day, and maybe now that Blondie looked like he had started to come out of his head a bit, it would be easier to direct him to something that could help even more.]

[ Probably with getting to do it more himself, he would figure it out more clearly, as well.

For now, Vash was going to listen, pay attention. And try to not say things that he couldn't know were true. He knew how he would be himself in such a situation, but he was not the Vash who had lived so much longer. Some things could change. ]

I guess... you will have to ask him. When you see him again. And no, I don't think you will be very good at hiding, not anymore. But I hope that's not a bad thing, not really.

[ And the mention of food...

... lacked any sort of enthusiastic reaction. Vash shook his head immediately.

After a short consideration, he decided that somehow he wasn't feeling bad enough that he absolutely would refuse any, but he wasn't ready to eat right now, yet. ]

I'll have something... in a bit. Rem works hard.

[ Not that he didn't help, but she had people staying here all the time. ]

[He tried to give a bit of a playful, affronted look, and then dimly realized that it wouldn't do any good, unseen as he was. Ah well.]

I'll have you know, I was pretty good at it before. It's pretty easy, when you have to make an actual effort to exist on a separate plane of reality. It's just...harder not to want to interact, now, I guess. I think I'm starting to crave the attention.

[He was doing his best to sound amused, but there was a level of truth there. Now that he knew people were aware of his existence, he wanted to seek out contact, found himself missing the chance to converse with others, even when it had only been a few short hours since he'd last made himself heard.

There was a small bit of surprise at the hesitation at the thought of food, and the worry over making Rem prepare something for him did little to assuage that. Did Blondie not know how to cook? Needle-Noggin was known for making and devouring rather astounding amounts of food, when the mood struck him, but there were enough little differences between them even with the short time he'd known this one that he supposed it wasn't too surprising.

In the end, he didn't feel like it warranted calling him out on it. Sometimes, you just didn't want to bother with something, and that was fine too, he supposed.]

Yeah, Mami really does what she can, huh? She's a sweetheart. I'm glad you get to have her back, you know? [And he was, really. If anyone deserved a chance to reunite, it was those two. And if it let him enjoy the chance to see at least someone get to have a mom out of their little band of idiots, and enjoy that bond vicariously through them, then no one could say anything about it.] I'd offer to make you somethin' myself, but...yeah. It's not the easiest thing for me, now. I used to be a pretty good cook, too, if I say so myself. Had to learn young, helpin' around the orphanage. I could teach you a few things later, if you wanted.

[ Meanwhile, Vash's unimpressed but also fond look was all too easy to seep. ]

I could feel you almost immediately, and even if he is not in the habit of reaching out for other plants, your presence is very real, as soon as I am alone.

[ Honestly.

And also there was nothing wrong with craving attention. Not after speaking without being heard for so, so long.

A sheepish smile, so fond, lights up Vash's eyes as the conversation turns to Rem. ]

I am glad, too. And I would love to learn what you wish to show me? Or I guess tell me and I try to make it. I come and go too much to offer a routine for cooking, though I guess I had better.

[ He could cook fine.

Eating was far less reliable. ]

[The fond little look he gave him and the fact that he'd just been able to tell he was there without even trying made him feel a bit as if...well, maybe not as if the rug had been completely pulled out from under his feet, but as if he could tell someone was gearing up for doing just that, and now he was worried, and the vaguely-distressed little noise he made might have even carried through into ranges audible to the living world.]

No-...really? I thought-...I didn't think anyone could tell I was there, unless...unless somethin' weird happened, or I was makin' an actual effort to be noticed.

[What did that mean, if it held true for the old man? Had he felt him there the whole time? Was just following after him enough to cause him more pain? What if his lingering when he shouldn't was one of the reasons he hadn't been able to more easily let go of the hurt, even after all this time?

He tried to push the anxious thoughts away, worried Vash would pick up on it and start worrying all over again, but they were still there, in the back of his mind, and he suspected they were going to be something that kept coming back to scream at him when things were quiet for the next good while. Instead, he smiled again, trying to pretend like the news hadn't caused a sudden shift in his entire world view, and when he spoke again, he was trying to sound upbeat again.]

That shouldn't be too hard, honestly. You're competent enough, I doubt I'd need to hold your hand for any of it, just tell you what I know. And it'd help break up some of the chores for Rem, at least.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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ISTG I alteady tagged this one, but I guess not?!? Good thing I was checking all for updates!

It does happen!

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