Vash was the morning person, not Wolfwood, so he was still a little bleary when the radio came on when he was sitting up, trying to get his brain started. He turned to blink at it bewilderedly, as the sound of the woman chirping happily over the airwaves crackled to life, and he almost didn't realize what he was hearing until Vash was suddenly running out the door and Nick's brain shocked itself into wakefulness, looking at the door, at the radio, back at the door, his eyes widening as he finally focused on what he was hearing and the pieces began to fall into place.
SEEDS 5? That wasn't Home ship, right? No, that was SEEDS 3, right? And now, all of those times he'd heard Vash mumbling in his sleep, or when he'd taken a blow to the head and was half-delirious, and he'd heard a woman's name whimpered out in the sounds of distress made a horrible sort of sense. The whole thing was only made worse when he stumbled out of bed and out the door after him in only his slacks and shirt tails and, morbidly-but-unconsciously curious, his eyes sought out the calendar on the wall of the inn on his way out the door.
He rushed outside, stopped fast enough he almost fell over as an awful realization hit and then backpedaled in and shouted at the innkeeper behind the counter; "Is that calendar right???"
"Uhhh...yeah?"
"Jesus Fucking Christ."
That was fucked up, on so many levels, and he was barely processing all of the levels of it as he ran back out the door and looked around, trying to see where he'd gone before asking a bewildered bystander which way the guy in the flashy red coat had run off to and getting a confused point in the direction of the edge of town.
And then he was running after him, realizing only once he was halfway down the street that he hadn't even taken time to put on his shoes. Fuck it. He'd deal with that after he found Vash and tried to get him out of whatever level of Fucked his head was in right now. Luckily, it didn't take him long to pick up the trail of footprints in the sand, and not much longer than that before he finally spotted him collapsed on the ground on the horizon.
The worry about losing him in the desert to a panic attack fading, his steps slowed as he approached, picking up the sound of that keening well before he was close enough to do anything about it, and that just made the sight in front of him even worse. He didn't say much, at least not anything that would require an answer or actual thought, just quiet, soothing sounds so that he would know who was coming up behind him if he was lucid enough to register his footsteps, and then he crouched down once he was close.
There was only a moment of hesitation, his hands hovering over his back before he threw caution to the wind and reached down, leaned down, gently holding his shoulders and laying against his back so that he could rub his back and whisper softly to him.
"You're ok, Vash. It's alright. You're ok, just breathe."
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SEEDS 5? That wasn't Home ship, right? No, that was SEEDS 3, right? And now, all of those times he'd heard Vash mumbling in his sleep, or when he'd taken a blow to the head and was half-delirious, and he'd heard a woman's name whimpered out in the sounds of distress made a horrible sort of sense. The whole thing was only made worse when he stumbled out of bed and out the door after him in only his slacks and shirt tails and, morbidly-but-unconsciously curious, his eyes sought out the calendar on the wall of the inn on his way out the door.
He rushed outside, stopped fast enough he almost fell over as an awful realization hit and then backpedaled in and shouted at the innkeeper behind the counter; "Is that calendar right???"
"Uhhh...yeah?"
"Jesus Fucking Christ."
That was fucked up, on so many levels, and he was barely processing all of the levels of it as he ran back out the door and looked around, trying to see where he'd gone before asking a bewildered bystander which way the guy in the flashy red coat had run off to and getting a confused point in the direction of the edge of town.
And then he was running after him, realizing only once he was halfway down the street that he hadn't even taken time to put on his shoes. Fuck it. He'd deal with that after he found Vash and tried to get him out of whatever level of Fucked his head was in right now. Luckily, it didn't take him long to pick up the trail of footprints in the sand, and not much longer than that before he finally spotted him collapsed on the ground on the horizon.
The worry about losing him in the desert to a panic attack fading, his steps slowed as he approached, picking up the sound of that keening well before he was close enough to do anything about it, and that just made the sight in front of him even worse. He didn't say much, at least not anything that would require an answer or actual thought, just quiet, soothing sounds so that he would know who was coming up behind him if he was lucid enough to register his footsteps, and then he crouched down once he was close.
There was only a moment of hesitation, his hands hovering over his back before he threw caution to the wind and reached down, leaned down, gently holding his shoulders and laying against his back so that he could rub his back and whisper softly to him.
"You're ok, Vash. It's alright. You're ok, just breathe."