[Wolfwood had protected a lot of people, and people had loved him far more than he had ever known. But more than that, Vash didn't want that for this Wolfwood because of the actions of another, but because he knew, despite their differences, this one was still a good person, too. He could tell.
Which was why, when he mentioned killing someone, there wasn't shock or horror or disgust on his face, just a mild sort of confusion as he slowed to walk in step with him and look at him with a questioning expression on his face. Kill who?
And then the realization set in, and he slowed to a stop, his expression falling to a sad sort of recognition. That...that explained a lot, actually. His lips pursed in a thin line, and he nodded, his heart breaking just a little more, but not for the Vash this man had known. Not if he had been anything like he was. He wouldn't have wanted to be mourned. And he also wouldn't have wanted Wolfwood to blame himself.]
I knew. I knew the entire time. And I...I scared him. So much that sometimes, he wanted to kill me himself. But I never blamed him. It wasn't his fault. Even the day we walked onto Knives' ship and he fulfilled his contract, I didn't blame him.
[He swallowed hard, remembering the months that had followed, the pain, the starvation, the torture. It could have been so easy to blame Wolfwood. But he had gone willingly, walking side by side with a man he had known from the beginning had been sent to collect him.
And he'd lived long enough for Nicholas' guilt to finally chip away at his fear, for him to have the chance to come back and make up for the role he'd been forced into before he was even old enough to make his own decisions.
Apparently, that wasn't a mercy this man had been given, and Vash's heart hurt for him, and yes, it even brought tears to his eyes, to hang at the edges of his eyelashes as he tried to hold his composure and opened his mouth to say something he suspected was going to get him hit again, but he needed to say, anyway.]
I don't blame you, either. I forgive you. For him. He wouldn't want you to blame yourself.
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Which was why, when he mentioned killing someone, there wasn't shock or horror or disgust on his face, just a mild sort of confusion as he slowed to walk in step with him and look at him with a questioning expression on his face. Kill who?
And then the realization set in, and he slowed to a stop, his expression falling to a sad sort of recognition. That...that explained a lot, actually. His lips pursed in a thin line, and he nodded, his heart breaking just a little more, but not for the Vash this man had known. Not if he had been anything like he was. He wouldn't have wanted to be mourned. And he also wouldn't have wanted Wolfwood to blame himself.]
I knew. I knew the entire time. And I...I scared him. So much that sometimes, he wanted to kill me himself. But I never blamed him. It wasn't his fault. Even the day we walked onto Knives' ship and he fulfilled his contract, I didn't blame him.
[He swallowed hard, remembering the months that had followed, the pain, the starvation, the torture. It could have been so easy to blame Wolfwood. But he had gone willingly, walking side by side with a man he had known from the beginning had been sent to collect him.
And he'd lived long enough for Nicholas' guilt to finally chip away at his fear, for him to have the chance to come back and make up for the role he'd been forced into before he was even old enough to make his own decisions.
Apparently, that wasn't a mercy this man had been given, and Vash's heart hurt for him, and yes, it even brought tears to his eyes, to hang at the edges of his eyelashes as he tried to hold his composure and opened his mouth to say something he suspected was going to get him hit again, but he needed to say, anyway.]
I don't blame you, either. I forgive you. For him. He wouldn't want you to blame yourself.