nomans_land | In and around Octovern -- later

In and around Octovern -- later

0. A message on Radio Plant
It's not heard, exactly, telepathy doesn't work with the ears. It sounds like Knives - one of them anyway, threaded with a weariness he can't hide like this, and echoed with the feminine reverberation and power of a sister plant. He doesn't have the power to do it himself, but whether she's just signal boosting or if he'd taken the step to merge with her the way he did so many others ... is unknown.

Every plant will hear it, if all goes well. Including the very one Vash had headed out to try to confront..

Vash the Stampede, one of you, has decided to go to Octovern and reignite the conflict with my younger self in spite of it being quiet these past weeks. I know there's at least three more of you out there; I would appreciate it [irony etches that 'voice' briefly]if you could collectively make sure this doesn't go the way it did in the past. If I have to come out there myself, I'm going to make it everyone's problem.

So let's make sure it doesn't go that far. I am certain that together, all of you can find a way to resolve this with no further pointless misery for our own kind.

1. Just outside Octovern
The sour-faced young Wolfwood who picked Vash up only a few hours into his hike to Octovern hadn't been in the mood to talk. He was heading for December, he said, and didn't want to hear anything from any fucking Vash about why he shouldn't go there. Vash had tried to explain to him that Melanie and the kids weren't there anymore – they'd been taken away by Brad to the ship days ago, but Wolfwood didn't want to hear it. He needed to see the place for himself, and Vash, on a similar mission, couldn't argue the point. So Wolfwood drove in silence, and Vash was able to close his eyes and get some real sleep – only occasionally interrupted by strange dreams, including one where his brother tried to warn him about heading for Octovern! Aren't dreams strange? – for the first time in what felt like weeks.

The cliffs around the city – and the remnants of the ship that had crashed there – made for an excellent vista point, so that's where Vash headed first. From the top of the cliffs he could see the whole city, and clear signs of a fight that had to have happened several days ago, perhaps longer. There's scorch marks on the cliff face, craters around the city, military vehicles mixed in with the refugee vans and trucks... but the city itself seems pretty peaceful. It looks like Knives was right -- the fighting is already over.

2. Main St and Market, downtown Octovern
Given the state of the rest of the planet, walking into Octovern is a delightful surprise. There's people here, more people in one place than anywhere else on Noman's right now. Refugees and locals, crew from the Earth ships and local military police, they're all mingled together in one big, bustling town. The streets are full of vendors, cars, people, all talking and shopping and arguing and laughing as though the terror of the last year never happened.

There's some excitement at the end of the block, though, raised voices and a lot of movement... and then, startling the crowd, sudden gunfire! Out of the crowd comes a single man, wearing a red coat and with spiked up black hair with a blond streak, running as fast as he can, and behind him? Behind him are a lot of people – bounty hunters, a couple local feds, people waving guns and autograph books, a whole mob of folks, all hot in pursuit, all yelling: “It's Vash the Stampede!

Help?

3. Out in the desert, heading back to July
He's escaped the mob, but given how many people are looking for him now, it seems best to take the long way back, and avoid any additional attention. His brother, this world's Knives, and this world's Vash, have both vanished. The war is over, the plants have been rescued, the Earth leaders are meeting with local government... and he's not needed at all. It's a relief – of course it is! – but he's spent so long dedicated to this fight that he's not really sure to do with himself now that it's over.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Oh, Vsah was definitely holding on to both. And appreciated both, even with a new wave of guilt following in the wake of his reaction.

It took him a while more to get words to work, and his voice was also quiet, and flat.

"It's all right, Wolfwood. It just keeps taking me by surprise, right now." And there it was, the other reason why he had been out there. Although it clearly had not been the where...

"When I'm prepared for it, it won't be like this." It would still hurt, of course, but wasn't it right to do so?

A little more, and he managed to articulate another thought. "If she is building a house for all of us... then she has met many. And that means many went there. So, perhaps, the location is because people end up there. Willingly or not."

He was trying. He didn't sound well, but he was trying to not drown in the memories once more.

He can hear the strain in Vash's voice, feel the tension in his body. Really, so long as he pretends that it’s Vash who’s distressed by the idea of Rem living next to a grave they created, and not them both, then it’s so much easier.

What’s a little self-deception, among friends?

“They do. We do. End up there, I mean. She really is collecting us!” Because Vash is right – they do seem to be drawn to that place, at least on this world. Which is odd, now that he thinks about it. Like Wolfwood said, there’s nothing out there, nothing but the memory of pain. Back in his world, he hadn’t been near July since… well, since. But here? Here they’ve been flocking to the place.

He's wondered it before, and the thought occurs to him once more – given the way that the city was destroyed, the energy that was expended there, is there something strange, now, about the city itself? Knives said there was a hole there too, one that disappears and reappears. Did they – did he -- do more damage than he’d originally thought?

How do you even measure a place for spacetime disturbances? A change in gravity, perhaps, that only plants can feel? He’d ask their sisters, but…

“There's so many to choose from now. There's even a little one, about the same age as Nai.”

Wolfwood’s hand is warm in the middle of his back, and Vash briefly closes his eyes, letting that small touch flood through him.

“They both live with her.”

And shouldn’t that be a joyous thing? A Nai and a Vash, getting to grow up with Rem, and a whole gaggle of family running around? They all made their choices and will live forever with the consequences, but the little ones get a fresh start. Isn’t that something to cling to, other Vash? A small piece of hope, that not every iteration of them has to end up this way?

“And that’s where I’m headed, now that I'm not needed here.”

He almost went to argue that it would still hurt him to have to live out there, he knows how sensitive they are, how they internalize everything even more than they let people realize, which was already a lot as it was. But then his mouth closed before any words could leave, and he was quiet for a moment, listening to them talk, to Needle-Noggin explain further, and in the end, he was left with a conflicted set of emotions.

He doesn't want to see them hurting, or putting themselves through more pain just to get the chance to have a family. They deserve a chance at a happy life without having to live under the shadow of one of the darkest days in their lives. But if there are more of them that keep showing up there, enough that they're having to build an entire house to fit everyone, then maybe she's exactly where she needs to be to find her boys. And frankly, if there was one thing that was going to set Wolfwood off faster than the shit he'd been through recently, the monumental weight and baggage of the concept of family was it.

It was such wonderful news, such a blessing for the two of them - the apparently growing army of them - to finally have a family again. The thought of them finally being able to be happy with people they loved, their mother, made him so happy for them, and he couldn't help the smile that spread across his face.

But it was also a concept that, for Nicholas himself, was...complicated. He wouldn't fit in with that, would he? He was going to be so awkward, he didn't know how to be...family. And no, they weren't his family, but if Vash was there, he wanted to be there, too.

Shit. Now that he thought about it...meeting him mom was going to be so. Weird. He was not the type of person you brought home to your parents. He was the opposite of that.

He refused to let those sort of thoughts come out, though, the last thing they needed was to worry about his worries about how well he'd fit into everything, when for the first time in maybe their entire lives, it sounded like things might be looking up for them. So instead, he did his best to just focus on the situation at hand, the fact that they had found Nai, and apparently a Vash his age, too? So the brothers were going to both get to grow up properly, instead of enduring the awful shit that they had been through and that had started them on this nightmarish course of events.

"I'm glad you guys were able to find 'im, I really am. I really fucked it up the other day, and it's my fault he was even out there to begin with." He shook his head, and for all the anger he'd shown towards Nai before he'd gone running off into the desert, there was none of it on his face now, only a complicated sort of guilt. "I-...The past few of days have...given me a lot to think about. A lot. But...I think maybe it's better if I save that for when we get back."

His hand tightened in Vash's coat and he tugged it gently, not insistent but simply letting him know he was speaking directly to him, though the way he turned that guilty look up at him and caught his eye could have probably made that obvious enough.

"There are...some things I...need to say. Things I should have said before. But it's not a great time to get into it, all the way out here." So please stay, please hear him out. Even if that part of him that wanted to expect the worst possible outcome for everything told him it was still more than he deserved.

And then a sudden thought had him letting out a wheezing little gasp. You'll have to excuse him for not having thought to mention it earlier; it's early, he's not a morning person, and they'd been dealing with a lot of things already that day.

"We found another one! Another you! Another kid, even! He was-...chained to some kind of wreckage in the middle of a little abandoned town, surviving on catching worms and...staring at his own missing arm." Which made him give Needle-Noggin a very particular look, as if to ask "Sound familiar?" Because he deeply suspected that the kid they'd found lined up with the flash of memories he'd seen days earlier. "We were gonna bring 'im to you, but he went missing, too! We were gonna look for him after comin' to look for you and Nico in Octovern."

His brow furrowed then, at Vash mentioning heading back to Rem's and not being needed in Octovern. So he'd already had enough time to find what answers he needed, then? That...actually made something that had tensed up in his chest begin to release, and it almost looked like he wilted some, where he stood.

"So you've already gotten a look around, then, huh? How's it looking in there?"

Vash was walking, holding on, and trying to pull himself together. Listening, and in a way feeling more out of place than ever out there in December, even if some of this was so very relevant to him. They needed to talk. He wanted... some news, though Vash had already given him some, and then he would leave them be. Although, given everything, he frowned slightly. Vash was going to Rem's, which made sense, but that would make things complicated. He didn't know if Wolfwood would fit too well, there. Not with Nai, at least off the bat, though he trusted that could be worked through. But with many Vashes...

"It's... good that Nai is safe." Quietly, but hey, inflection was creeping back into his voice. "And yeah, we found a younger... you, I'd guess, since that matches closer with your memories of losing your arm than with mine. But he ran off, and I'm worried, he wasn't nearly as well-recovered as was good for him."

Not that ... he was unlikely to do similarly, in a not much better state, but he worried, still.

He breathed out.

"I'll... leave you to talk, when we get back, there are things that I'll just make harder, I think. But... I'd also like to know. What did you find, out there?"

His curiosity sounded subdued, right now, but it was real.

So these two had met that younger Vash as well? Vash just nods as first Wolfwood and then the other Vash talk about him, but his smile's getting more and more fragile at the edges all the time. First memories of Rem, then talk of July, and now the loss of his arm -- this walk back to town might be one of the hardest he's ever taken. And when they arrive, and he and Wolfwood have a sit down?

A small part of him just wants to turn heel right here, right in this very spot, to run into the desert and never return. He could live off worms and mist, make friends with the stones, put away language entirely and just be a simple lunatic out cackling on the sands. It'd be an easier life, that's for certain.

"He's all right." But he doesn't get to do easy. His crimes require more penance than that. "I met him too, that younger Vash? He found a place in Octovern... or near Octovern, he wasn't exactly precise about his address." And of course Vash hadn't pried. Losing first his brother, and then his arm? That Vash hadn't needed an old man poking around in his business. He'd said he had a place to go, and that was all Vash needed to hear.

"And as for the rest... Octovern is full of people right now!" A disturbingly small number of people, given that every refugee on the planet had headed there, but it was still more people than he'd seen since he arrived. It was a relief to know that the world hadn't entirely emptied out, that Knives hadn't entirely succeeded. He'd come close, though. "All the reports that say the fighting ended weeks ago were completely correct. There was a terrible battle, involving some of the ships from Earth, the ark... " Most of the reports agreed on the basics, at least, although he could already tell that some of the more crackpot theories were going to be the ones that made it out into the world. Time travelling aliens was his favorite, if only for the grain of truth in the theory.

"The Vash that was born here survived, and nearly all the plants from the ark have been rescued." Some hadn't made it, which was to be expected, given how the ark had come apart. So much death. So much effort to bring them all here, and for what? They hadn't been able to prevent a single loss. "I think Knives survived too... at least, that's what the rumors say. Apparently the two of them flew off together!" He really hopes that part is true. It's a nice thought, isn't it? After all that, to fly away hand in hand. Maybe they made it someplace safe, and maybe they died out in the desert somewhere... at the end they were together, and Vash can't help but smile at the thought.

"So that's it. The fighting is over, our sisters are being sent back to their towns..." Which means that they won't be able to send anyone back. This is their home now, for better or worse. "...and everyone is excited about the help that the Earth ships might have to offer." Just think of the tech they could provide! Water reclamation! Medicines! Power systems that didn't break down from the dust! There's one concern, though, mostly for Vash rather than Wolfwood.

"The Earth forces have independent plants on their ships, and after all that fighting they certainly know that Vash the Stampede is a plant. I'd stay away from them, at least for now, until we can get a better idea of what their intentions are towards, um. Us."

The Earth forces put chips in the heads of their independents, to limit their actions. While he sees the reasoning behind that idea, it doesn't mean he approves, and it certainly doesn't mean he's going to be volunteering any time soon.

When Blondie said he would leave when it was time for them to talk, Wolfwood couldn't help but feel a small spike of worry, wanting to tell him to stay, worried that he would go missing again if he wasn't there, before he forced the reaction back down. There was a little too much to unpack in that reaction for the moment, all things considered, and he couldn't deny that there were, in fact, probably things that would be easier to talk to Vash about if they were alone, if the other wasn't there as a constant reminder that Nicholas had spent the last two years in a reality that wasn't really his own, separated from his partner due in no small part to his own stupidity. And there was still the small voice in the back of his head that worried, though it might have been strange, about how Vash felt about his being there at all, traveling with Wolfwood and taking up a place that he'd filled so naturally before.

He had even less time to unpack the knot of feelings he had built up in his chest about Blondie in particular, and Nico, and his place in their lives. When he hadn't thought he would ever get to see Vash again, it had been...easier. Or at least less complicated. He'd thought he'd known what his purpose would be, when he was walking along behind them like a shadow, helping when he could but always feeling like he didn't belong. That he shouldn't exist there at all. Now? There was a little part of him that was starting to suspect that there would be a parting of ways, soon, and the thought made enough of a tight ball of worry flare up in his chest that he refused to even acknowledge it.

So he didn't. He just frowned very faintly and nodded his head, and instead opted for focusing on the relief he felt, hearing that the younger Vash was in Octovern somewhere, safer than he had been when they'd last seen him. It made him give a long sigh as some of the tension bled out of his frame, and his forehead dropped down onto Blondie's shoulder.

"Oh, Thank Fuck. Good, that's good. We can find 'im, then. I can do that, I'm good at that. He needs to be with all of you, especially with how bad he was when we found 'im." Even the sound of his voice was as if knowing he had been found and had been at least ok for a while was a weight off of his shoulders. He would have been worried about the kid regardless, finding him in the state they had. The fact that he was Vash? Well, Nicholas had always been fiercely protective of kids, and in some small part of himself that he never admitted to, had always loved the idea of having kids, even if they weren't his by blood. It hadn't taken long before his thoughts had gone from "Get him to Vash, he'll know what to do" to "Bring him to Vash, he can stay with us, we'll take care of him," only to turn into a mild sort of panic when he'd gone missing.

All of that out of the way, it left him to ponder the news out of the city, and...unfortunately, it didn't really answer as much as he had somehow thought it would. His face screwed itself into a complicated, thoughtful frown as he turned his head and rested his chin on Blondie's shoulder so he could watch Needle-Noggin talking from around his back.

"So...what does that mean for...all of us? I guess...everyone just...goes back home and tries to pick their lives back up where they left off? I mean...not gonna lie here, I doubt the Earthers will take much of a liking to me, either. Not that I expected much else when the signal first came in, if I'm being perfectly honest." His frown turned into a more concentrated scowl, though there was an apologetic sort of look to it, when he glanced back over. "I never really expected to have much of a place in whatever bit of good they brought, even in the beginning. I'm...not exactly someone who gets to live in civilized society." For so many reasons, and not many of them he could really change at this point in his life. He wasn't even likely to fit into civilized society even by the standards of the people who were born on this planet, let alone fancy off-worlders with their new, shiny technology and stricter laws.

"Has there...been any word on what happened to the Stampede who was born here? Since the two of them made their escape?" He couldn't help but be reminded of the promise he'd made to the dead man in December, as hard as it might be to keep. It seemed like the number of people he needed to find kept growing, even as some of them were found. At this point, it was almost more a rotating door of people to hunt down. He really had his work cut out for him.

Up ahead, the sight of the inn coming around the bend could finally be made out in the distance, and it was probably going to be awkward getting back up to their room, clinging to them as he was. But he was reluctant to leave his spot, and the small sigh he gave at the thought of it almost sounded put out. His fingers fidgeted a bit in the red fabric of his coat, gripping a little tighter, and he probably wasn't making it any easier to walk, the way he was practically pressed up against Blondie's side. Fuck him and his need for shoes. If he'd been smart enough to put them on before running out, he would have just opted for staying out there, where he didn't have to separate from either of them to get through the door.

Vash gave a little hiccup as something came from the other him, then he breathed out and let soft comfort and apology radiate from him. That was thoughtless of me. I am sorry. Brief and gentle, almost like a mental caress.

Then he did breathe a sigh of relief. This made two people they were looking for at least accounted for, alive, and taken care of - three, if one counted Vash here himself, and this Vash absolutely did. Though his eyes darted down to the sand. He was going to ask, if Vash himself at that age would have said that and been honest, or just evading the issue, but this was not the time.

"Thank you. We were pretty worried. And I... don't think I would have been doing very well, on my own, at around that age." Let alone those events, but he had more reason to focus and not rub salt in the wounds that were, in fact, pretty much still there. "Did... do you think he will be safe from the Earth forces?"

He fell quiet, after that. Listening to what was said, thinking. He was also trying to imagine... a lot of them, and taking care of the smaller ones. And how much trouble they were likely to be, but also how much joy, if and when they could make them a little safer, a little happier.

"I, um. While you talk, I can try to see what kind of communication devices I can get for us. Radios are well and good, but I miss having phones, in case I can get my hands on some of those." Even if his nearly never rang, even before JuLai.

Whatever happened, it would be good to be able to get in touch quickly and reliably here. It could save each other a lot of worry.

And Rem... Rem, also.

The thought of living near JuLai was making him uncomfortable already, especially today, but he wouldn't want her to worry, either.

Also, please, Wolfwood. They couldn't go through the door shoulder to shoulder frontally, but sideways? Not that much of a problem. Between those two, Vash did not even think about that, just turned and shuffled sideways so Wolfwood could get in from the sun first, if only by a very brief amount of time.

Then he smiled at the inn owner as though running off, being followed by one person, and coming back with two he is hugging was absolutely normal.

"Sorry if I worried you. Everything is fine! We'll ... be using the room for the day also, will decide about more later. And can we have lemonade? Please?"

Octovern was close, he could go and come back and help out enough to make sure everything was covered.

The smile turned to the other Vash. "Does that sound all right?" These two needed to talk, and not having to rush was probably better.

What does the arrival of the Earth ships mean for the locals? Vash just shrugs at that – there's no way to know. The Earth forces, in conjuction with the local government (which included Luida, he'd been delighted to see!) had been making plenty of noises about distribution of resources and aid and peace, and he wants to be hopeful! But he also didn't see any resources from those Earth ships in Octovern, the entire time he was there. Which, granted, was only a few days, but it had been mostly locals building the giant dome over the plants, mostly locals setting up food and shelter and medical aid for the refugees, mostly locals directing traffic and breaking up skirmishes. Mostly local stamps on the new wanted posters, with his and his brother's faces. They'll certainly have resouces, on the few ships that remain after Knives's attack, but who can say how much of those resources will get handed out? Or what changes they'll see in the government, in the years to come? It's all new and exciting!

For the young Vash, Vash honestly isn't sure if he'd welcome being brought back here, especially if he'd found someplace to stay in Octovern. But it wouldn't hurt to offer, right? “I warned him about them, and to keep his head down generally, but he got to see firsthand what happens when one of us walks around wearing red, so the warning wasn't really needed!” It hadn't been a good time to be on his own, no, and Vash pointedly doesn't rub at any of the larger scars beneath his coat, no matter how much they might start aching at the memory of their acquisition. Those years after he'd spilt off from Knvies had been hard, possibly the hardest of his life, and it's a relief to know that the younger Vash won't have the same experiences.

Also, please hear that warning, Vash – folks in Octovern are on the lookout for Vashes right now. Don't let them see you looking so distinctive.

And for this world's Vash... “Nobody knows where he went, no.” And he hopes it stays that way. “When I first arrived here, I met a Vash who shared with me what he remembered of the months after the fight.” He keeps his voice carefully level, and even more carefully doesn't think about any of the other details that Vash had shared... especially about Knives's death. “They might be in Mesa Probe, if his world was similar to this one.”

And he shuts up about it there, because they're approaching the inn at last. Vash smiles wanly at the innkeeper as they shuffle through the door -- yup, here's two Vash the Stampedes, please don't notice it! “That sounds wonderful, I'm so thirsty,” he whines, trying to slide back into that old silly persona. It's an awkward fit, but the innkeeper doesn't know him, so maybe it'll work well enough. “And hot, I'm so hot! Is there a fan in the room? I'm dying.”

Overdoing it a little? Maybe?

He gave Blondie a small, furrow-browed glance when he made that slight hiccupping noise, but left it unmentioned. He would've had to be completely oblivious not to notice the way the two of them seemed to just do that when they were around each other, and given Needle-Noggin's apptitude from reading thoughts as they crossed his mind, as if he'd spoken them out loud, he was beginning to suspect that they were doing it to each other. Not that it was particularly worrying or suspicious, just...curious, a little strange, but not even that much in the grand scheme of things. So when he settled again, the thought left his own head as well. If it was important enough, he assumed he would fill him in. They had at least gotten pretty good about doing that when something came up.

"Honestly, even knowing you two as well as I do, I'm still a bit surprised that he was able to keep it together as well as he had. I really don't want to make him stay out there on his own any more than he's already been. He needs people to take care of him - and don't tell me he can take care of himself, I know he can," He grumbled, looking up first at Needle-Noggin and then at Blondie before either of them could get it into their heads to say otherwise, "but he shouldn't have to, not with that wound, not at that age. If...if this all sticks, and we're...stuck like this...he should get to be with his family, too."

The confused look returned to his face, and he looked up at Blondie, stared for a second as he waited for him to elaborate, and then shook his head.

"What's a 'phone'?" Something better than radios? He'd never carried radios as a rule, but he knew they were damn useful for the people who actually wanted to stay in touch with others. What could they possibly use that was more handy than that?

He barely gave the inn keeper a nod as he was allowed to slip through the door first, just shuffled his way through the lobby and back towards the stairs. The man at the front desk nodded at Blondie, though, waved his way before seeming to notice the weird almost-similarities between the two blonds that followed Wolfwood inside. But even after a little note of recognition seemed to flicker across his face, he visibly shuttered it and simply nodded again. "Sure thing, Just glad to see you're ok. Your friend there sure looked worried. I'll have the lemonade sent up to your rooms shortly."

Wolfwood didn't even bother to look ashamed, just kept leading the two of them up the stairs. The sound of Needle-Noggin behind him putting back up that chirpy, cheerful facade just like old times made his skin crawl. It was so fake to his ears, no matter how well he could fool anyone else, and to have two of them starting to do it made it even worse. They sounded so miserable to him, even when they were doing their best to hide it, and instead it just made it even more obvious. He gave an exasperated sigh.

"Mesa Probe, huh? Tiny little speck of a town, right? Not too far away, if I remember right. We can head there after searching Octovern." He glanced back over his shoulder as he stalked up the stairs on bare feet, a thoughtful look on his face. "Also, another one of you? How many's that put us at? Any idea where he's at? Roundin' all of you up's gonna be a handful."

Vash blinked slightly at the question, but then didn't miss a beat. "A small communication device that's easy to carry, with a built-in antenna rather than extendable. But it's... if you haven't heard about them, there's a high chance that I'm unlikely to find any. Ah well. If that's the case, radios it will have to be."

Quietly, as they make their way up.

"I'll keep an eye out for the younger one, also. And anything else that might be important."

Once in the room, he hesitated. Then he finally stepped away from the supporting touch of the other two, and reluctantly shrugged off the coat. He'd meant...

He'd meant to go, once they got back together. But there was something about the other Vash's looks towards Wolfwood, and the intent to go where it might be complicated for Wolfwood, that made Vash think the conversation might not, well, end up with the two of them happily walking off towards the sunset. Or going off together to handle the next danger. Or something.

So the coat, left carefully draped over the back of a chair, was his promise that he was going to come back. A difficult one, because a part of him screamed to leave them be, they belonged with each other.

He still couldn't help but chuckle a little at Wolfwood, warmly. "Rounding all of us up? Ambitious."

Though he supposed that Rem would manage that. Which... "Oh and. If I don't run into the younger Vash but any of us meets him. I think while we might not be exactly who he wants to take care of him... Rem might be better draw."

His voice only shook a little.

"I won't be too long." Uh... "Leave the door a little ajar if it's all right for me to come in."

He tried to catch the eyes of each of them in turn, and with a brief moment of ... radiating, for both of them, love, he was off.

No, this conversation most likely won’t end with them skipping off into the sunset hand in hand. That’s what he wants, more than anything – he wants so much to head out of here, Wolfwood at his side, and see who might be in Mesa Probe, in May City, on the Earth ships, wants to introduce Wolfwood to Rem, wants to spend this night and every night for the next week out in the flats with Wolfwood, sitting around a campfire all night and riding on the latest iteration of Angelina during the heat of the day. He wants it so much he can taste it, can almost manifest it into being. He’d give up every strand of blond on his head to make it happen. Wolfwood pulls him in like a magnet, an unstoppable electrical force, and the silly voices and clumsy gait can only go so far to disguise that wanting. His teeth ache from it. Wolfwood’s under his skin and wrapped around his heart and he wants in a way he’s never wanted another person before.

But there are things that have to be said first, by both of them, and he suspects – no, call it what it is, he fears -- that when those things are said, he’ll be going back to July alone.

So when Vash sets his coat down – is he going back to Octovern? Be careful, friend! – and implies that they might want privacy, it’s all he can do to steal his face and mind into stillness. He wants, Vash. He wants Wolfwood in every sense of the word, and it’s going to hurt so much when – if – when he has to leave his heart here.

How much of that he shares on their connection, he can’t tell. Some of it, certainly. Too much, entirely possible. Vash sends love on his way out the door and he sends it back, with gratitude, and a wordless request -- don’t go too far, please. Wolfwood might need a friend here shortly.

And then they’re alone.

Shit. Where to start, what to say, how to even begin? Vash remains standing, just inside the room, and rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly.

“So.”

The explanation about phones got a bewildered look before he just accepted it and nodded with a small "Huh" of confirmation. That was certainly the least of his worries and a simple enough answer that he didn't put any more thought into it as they shuffled about the room and got settled. At the very least, it wasn't important enough to hold his attention more than that, especially not when Blondie was talking about going out and looking for the kid and leaving them alone, which almost made that anxiety come roaring back, before he watched him take off his coat and put it over the chair, and that all on its own was enough to make something in his chest clench in relief.

He could have almost smiled, before that little chuckle came, and then Vash calling him out on wanting to find the other two made him stop short and blink, and suddenly he was turning bright red and sputtering, surprised and confused as it dawned on him that he had actually already been planning on doing just that. He stammered for a second, awkward and looking between them, his mouth moving without any actual words forming, before he swallowed around the lump in his throat and his eyes flittered around the room in search of something safe to look at.

"I just-..." Worry. Want them to be safe. Made a promise in December. How could he even begin to understand why the need to...help? Find them, make sure they were ok? Had just come naturally, let alone explain it in a way that didn't sound crazy? "I just wanna help. If...if he told Needle-Noggin about what things are gonna be like for the next couple of months, then...that means he's alone now, too, right? So...that makes two of 'em. Even more reason to tell 'em how to find Rem with the rest of you, right?"

And unfortunately, all of that, the realization of what he was doing, thinking about those other men out there, hurting and alone and hiding while the dust settled, just brought the guilt he'd been doing his best to keep shoved down in the back of his head back to the surface. The horror he'd felt when reality had hit him at that grave in December. He watched Blondie walk out the door, nodding gently. He did not miss the way his voice shook, and it only made the fact that he was leaving that much more nerve-wrecking, even if he knew he planned on coming back.

"Yeah, 'kay...be careful out there..." His voice was soft, but he simply gave a small wave, and waited until he was down the hall and had disappeared down the stairs before shutting the door almost fully, leaving it closed enough that there wasn't a crack to peer through, but was still obviously ajar.

And then Vash's voice mumbled out behind him, and it was obvious just from the sound of it that he was uncomfortable, and that just made the guilt even worse.

He tried his best to compose himself, keeping a hand on the doorknob as he tried to think of what to say, where to even start, but there was so much, and suddenly all of the good news about finding their mother again, the kids being found safe, a home being set up for them, seemed like another world to him. Because all he could see was that body laid so carefully in the ground, tended to and cared for and loved, and all he could think about was the sound of Vash sitting beside him and crying his heart out as Wolfwood lost consciousness.

Well. That was probably as good a place to start as any, right? At the very least, it was the entire reason they were in this shitty place to begin with, wasn't it? It wasn't the only thing he had to apologize for, but it was the the first.

He turned, looked at him standing there, looking as awkward as he'd sounded, and looked away, doing his best not to break down while he fidgeted, his hands making aborted little jerks in the air like he wanted to reach out but was afraid to. It would be alright, wouldn't it? His feathers were hidden for now, so he wouldn't hurt him if he touched him again, surely, but he also didn't want to rush him, especially not after what had happened last time, not when they both seemed to be hovering on a razor's edge for something to happen and he knew the feathers had a tendency to show themselves when he was distressed. Not after the last time, when he'd tried to tear himself apart. And that memory just made the guilt even worse, and he almost lost control of his own emotions.

"I'm-...Vash, I'm sorry. I didn't say it to you properly before, and I should've, it's the least you deserved." Fuck. And there he went, his face screwing itself into a grimace even as he lost the fight against holding back his tears. "I was an idiot, I spent so much time hatin' myself, I didn't...I couldn't...I didn't stop to think about...about how much I was hurtin' you. I'm sorry." He pawed at his eyes furiously, but it didn't stop the way his voice hiccupped in his chest when he tried to speak again. "I don't-...I don't know...I don't know how t'make it up to you, or if I even can. I..."

He hiccupped again, shaking his head, and he was trying so, so hard to keep from breaking down sobbing again, the way he had by that graveside. Without Blondie there, trying to reassure him, to give him something other than his own nihilistic doom and gloom to latch onto, he was back to just knowing that he'd made his own bed and he was going to have to lie in it and there was probably nothing he could do to change that.

It certainly didn't help, knowing that he'd never gotten a chance to tell Vash where they'd been headed when they'd found him. Why they were in December that day.

"I made Blondie go back to the orphanage with me. I was so worried, when all of this weird shit started and Nico - his Wolfwood, I mean - was suddenly gone-...I was afraid...I was afraid he'd...that he'd taken my place out there. I...I couldn't just leave 'im out there...I had to know, I was so sure some other man had died in my place, and-..."

He needed to sit down, or at the very least not be standing there in the middle of the room. It left him feeling exposed, and he almost leaned back against the door before he realized it was supposed to be left unlatched and startled himself, reaching back to make sure he hadn't knocked it closed. His thoughts were scattered enough as it was, but he had his senses enough that, once he knew it was still ajar, he let himself back up to the little chair nearby and simply sank down into it, his eyes staring at the barely-closed door.

"I thought...I thought it'd be easy, right? I've made enough bodies, why-...why should seein' that one be any different? I'm a fuckin' idiot! I dug up that man's grave, and it wasn't even Nico! It wasn't even me!" And why that was part of what was so horrifying about it, he couldn't say. Maybe it was just that the entire thing was horrible for multiple reasons, and he would never be able to list all of them if he tried.

The look on his face when he finally looked up at Vash was absolutely wrecked, horrified at himself, hurting, and he could barely see him for the tears in his eyes, probably wouldn't have been able to make him out except for the bright, bold red of his coat.

"I desecrated his grave and it didn't even matter! And he-...you-...whoever buried him-...I thought-...I always thought...No one would ever care about me enough to...to bury me like that. I was just gonna be another body lyin' in a ditch somewhere! And I put you through that! How could I ever make up for that??? I-..."

He shook his head, looking almost lost for a moment before a tiny thought hit him, and he glanced back, his brow furrowed as he tried to hold onto it before it got lost amongst the rest of the awful things that were rolling through his head.

"Vash, did-...did you bury a man out in December...? We-...We've been talkin' like...like we're the people we...like I'm the same man you lost, but-..." How would he even know if he was the same man? He looked the same, only...his hair was darker, wasn't it? Did he dig up the man this Vash had buried? Did that make it easier or harder if he had? Did it even make a difference?

His head was so scrambled, now that the emotions he'd been keeping down had come unbottled and were spilling out for God and everyone to see. Dealing with these emotions was so much easier when he refused to think about them. Like this, they were overwhelming, the pain they caused was so much sharper, like a physical pain and not just the dull ache of guilt and self-hate he had gotten so used to throughout his life. How did Vash even live like this, feeling everything so openly, letting it hurt so much?

How does Vash bear it? He drinks. A lot.

And he's already regretting coming into this conversation sober when Wolfwood starts crying. That's not a sight he'll ever get used to, and Vash sinks his teeth into his lip to stop himself from interrupting, from protesting, from doing everything he can to wipe that expression of Wolfwood's face. It doesn't belong there! Wolfwood should never look so... so sorry.

I spent so much time hating myself, Wolfwood says, and the teeth in his lip aren't enough. Vash presses a fist to his mouth, barely resisting the urge to sink his teeth into his hand, anything to not have to listen to this! He'd been hurt when Wolfwood left, sure! But this is too much. He didn't know that it was this much.

He nods a little when Wolfwood starts talking about the grave at the orphanage – yes, he knew about the plan to go see who was buried there. He'd meant to ask, when they all met up again, but then Vash was so distressed about the broadcast from Rem, and he wasn't about to put that hurt on top of everything else the man was going through. Was it him? Was it the other Vash's Wolfwood?

A sick relief floods through him when Wolfwood confirms that no, it wasn't Nico. Nico. That's a nice name. That sounds like a name that a friend would use. He'll have to find someway to help Vash, he thinks, either in his search for Nico or with distractions to take his mind off the loss. Losing Nico and not knowing where he is, if he's alive or dead? That's horrible.

Almost as horrible as the expression on Wolfwood's face. I desecrated his grave, and Vash is grateful that there's no lemonade in his stomach or else he really might be sick.

Wolfwood's staring at the door like he's waiting for Vash to come back and spare him from this conversation, staring at Vash like he expects to be struck down for his sins, and Vash's body moves before he can think. He drops to his knees in front of Wolfwood, where he's hunched over on that little chair, and takes the other man's hand in his own.

“You didn't desecrate his grave.” No, he wasn't there, but he knows you, Nicholas D Wolfwood. That body in December wasn't taken apart, or harmed, or ridiculed in any way. He's sure of it. “You had to know who was in it. Vash had to know.” And if they did anything other than put the grave back perfectly the way they'd found it, he'd eat his entire coat. Oh, he would have given anything for them to have found their answer another way, but he's grateful beyond words for the portal that took him away before he could convince himself he needed to go with them. Digging up a friend's grave – digging up your own grave! He can't imagine it. He doesn't want to imagine it.

“The dead are dead. I don't think they care much what happens to their bodies. That grave was for him.” No, not Wolfwood. The other him. “Me.” Or it would have been him, anyway, if he'd had the chance. “The Vash in Mesa Probe.” The Vash who didn't get to skip to the end of the story, but living right through every step – Wolfwood's death, the fight with Knives, possibly the loss of his brother soon.

Their sisters should have brought him here sooner, when he could have done something to help that poor man.

“He didn't bury his friend because that's what his friend wanted.” They'd never talked about burials, or wakes, or any of what would come after. Maybe they should have, but if they didn't talk about it, they could keep pretending it wouldn't happen. It was like a magic spell, keeping them both alive, until it didn't work anymore.

“He buried his friend because he loved him. Because he couldn't bear to keep looking at him, waiting for him to get up.” His voice cracks halfway through that last bit and oh, there are the tears. He was wondering how long he'd have before they showed up. A shuddering breath, and a tight clench of his jaw chase them away for the moment, but who knows for how long. “He would understand why you did what you did, what you had to do.” No, it would be more than understanding, wouldn't it? Wolfwood would need more than understanding. He wasn't crying here because he'd been misunderstood.

He reaches up, slowly enough that Wolfwood can pull back of the touch isn't wanted, to lay his hand on Wolfwood's cheek. “He'd forgive you.”

Vash remembers every bullet hole, every cut, every smear of blood on this man's body as they'd sat on that couch. Fragments of another's memories surface, arms that aren't his holding a body that wasn't this body, washing blood of a face that wasn't this face. Another pain he'd been spared, another journey he'd never finish. “I'd forgive you.”

His Wolfwood is rotting on a couch somewhere, while his brother cuts the last of the Earth ships out of the sky. His Wolfwood is dead, his friends are dead, his world is dead. He's heard the reports, seen the damage first hand, talked to the plants in Octovern, and what he's learned is that, if Vash hadn't been there, Knives would have succeeded. Without a Vash, the world would have burned.

And wouldn't it be a blessing if this really were his Wolfwood? If somehow he'd been plucked off that couch just a few minutes earlier, resurrected somehow? He wouldn't dare wish for something so selfish, but if it just happened? If he was granted this one thing?

Throat tight, Vash sits back on his heels and shakes his head, his smile at odds with the rest of his miserable expression. His hand falls back to join the other, still holding Wolfwood's, if Wolfwood allows it. Kneeling at Wolfwood's feet in penance feels appropriate, right now. Because Wolfwood's right – they had been talking, that day, like they'd been from the same world. Like they hadn't both lost everything, like there was one miracle that was only for them.

This Wolfwood's alive. That's miracle enough.

“I'm not him.” And oh gods, how much he wishes that he was. “I didn't get a chance to bury you. Him. But he was dead.” There's no question about that. He knows exactly how long a human body can go without a heartbeat, without breath, even a body as strong as Wolfwood's... and he counted those seconds, after. There were too many seconds. “I'm sorry.”

He was so focused on looking anywhere but at Vash, actually afraid of what he would see if he looked at his face despite everything he knew about the man, that he didn't see how much he was hurting until he was kneeling in front of him and taking his hand, and the attempts at reassurances and understanding and the hold on his hand just made him cry harder as he shook his head. He didn't have words to explain how much it felt like the reasons didn't matter. It was still a dark stain he felt on his soul, and he'd dragged Vash along, gotten him to participate in the whole sordid affair.

"I-...That's why I have t'find 'im. I can't...I can't leave him out there all alone, after I did that! I have to make it better, I need to bring 'im home to his family! I promised! I promised that Nick I'd take care of 'im. It's...it's...that's all I could think about, when..." It was so hard, getting the words out, talking about what happened that day. He'd spent two years trying not to think about it, burying it and pretending it hadn't happened, and yet every day had been a reminder of what he'd done, looking at Nico and at Blondie and knowing he should be dead, that he didn't belong where they were and that he'd left behind the kindest person he'd ever met, stabbed a knife in his back and left him broken and having to pick up the pieces all on his own. He gritted his teeth, growling low in his throat against the almost physical weight keeping his words buried, against the cruelty that had turned him into the man he'd become and destroyed the person he might have been. The person who might have had a chance at being able to do anything other than cause pain. "You...you were the only person who...who ever made me feel like...like anyone actually cared, and when-...I...for just a bit, when I should have...when I thought I'd died-...I woke up, and all I could think about was you, how much I was hurtin' you! I tried so hard to pretend like...like...like it was ok, so maybe...maybe you'd be ok, but I knew it was a lie!"

He wasn't sure what did it, whether it was the finally admitting to it after so long, or hearing why that body had been buried with so much care, having those fears confirmed and imagining Vash sitting there, waiting and breaking and knowing he was the cause of it, but for a long time, the only thing he could do was let out hard, painful sobs, gripping the hand holding his so tight against his chest and pressing his forehead against Vash's hair. It was like all of the pain he'd carried, all the guilt he'd felt for all of the things he'd done had finally come to a head, and now that he had begun to let it out, he couldn't stop. It was a new and horrible and excruciating feeling that he didn't know how to handle, and somewhere in the back of his head he remembered all the times he'd berated Vash for breaking down and hated himself just a little bit more.

Even worse, though, was the feeling of that hand on his cheek, and those gentle words of forgiveness, and it left him feeling hollowed out, empty of everything but the pain as he shook his head and clung to both of those hands as if they were the only lifeline he had in all of the turmoil inside of his head.

"I can't! I can't forgive myself!"

But then Vash was pulling away and giving him that sad, miserable smile, and he tried his best to get ahold of himself as he tried to make sense of what he was doing. It hit him like a blow to the head, what he was saying, and what semblance of control he had was shattered as he clutched at his hands, holding them so tight that a moment later he gasped at a sudden little jolt of worry that he was hurting him and pulled his hands away.

"Oh, God!" He sank to the floor in front of Vash as the words were growled out of his throat, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and clinging. He wasn't him, he wasn't the same man, and somewhere out there was another man, all alone and suffering and another laying dead, and he didn't know what to even begin to do with that information.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I'm sorry I can't be him, I wish I were him!" There was nothing he could do to make this better. There had never been anything he could do to make it better, any of it, no matter how much he had wanted to, no matter how much he'd wanted to break away from the things they'd made him do and be better than the monster they'd turned him into, and he felt so lost. "I don't know what to do, Vash, all I know how to do is hurt, it's all I've ever done, and I just keep doing it! You and Him and Blondie and- and- Nai and-...I want to be better, I want to make it right, but I don't know how! Please tell me how to make it right!"

As if this man, the man who wasn't even the same as the one he'd left broken and alone, could tell him what to do to make up for everything. It was an unreasonable thing to ask of him, and he knew it on some level. But he had been trying for two years to make sense of it, to know what his purpose was in everything, and now even that had slipped through his fingers like sand, when Nico had disappeared and they had found themselves in a world where even the mistakes he'd been so sure he'd been meant to stop him from making had already come to pass.

"I don't know what to do, I don't know why I'm still here! Why didn't they deserve to live? Why me? I was gonna take his place! I was gonna keep Nico safe! They could have had the chance I took away from us, and now I can't even do that! What do I do???"

Oh.

Wolfwood drops to the floor beside Vash, wrapping his arms around him, and Vash returns the gesture, pulling Wolfwood in close until they’re chest to chest, as though holding Wolfwood tightly will somehow hold him together.

“I don’t know.” His voice is barely a whisper – he doesn’t trust it to remain steady if he speaks any louder. Hearing his own thoughts coming out of Wolfwood’s mouth is a terror he’d never imagined. What kind of comfort can he offer to something like that? Hey, me too, actually I was kinda hoping I’d die in Octovern and I’m disappointed that I’m still alive He can’t put that on Wolfwood. He owes this man so much, owes him answers, owes him happiness… but what does happiness even look like? “I don’t know. It’s not fair.”

It's not fair that Nico is missing. It’s not fair that Wolfwood feels guilt over that, not fair that Vash outside has to weigh hope and grief without any possibility of answers. It’s not fair that the Wolfwood in this world is gone, that the Vash here has to fight without any of the help brought for him. It’s not fair that he isn’t the man Wolfwood wants him to be, that he can’t make him any of the promises that he wants to. Vash’s hands tighten in the back of Wolfwood’s jacket, the material complaining under the strain. It’s not fair that Nai had to be frightened by this man. It’s not fair he can’t control himself, that he forced this good man to see such horrible things. It’s not fair that they’re on Noman’s at all.

It’s not fair to keep asking him to be strong. He’s not strong.

I was going to take his place. God. If swapping places with a corpse was all it took to bring the dead back then Vash would have been dust and bones long ago. But this isn’t about him, he mentally chides himself, forcing his breath steady and slow. The hand fisted in the back of Wolfwood’s jacket releases with a painful twitch, and he lays that hand gentle on the back of Wolfwood’s head.

“But you keep going.” That’s not a comfort, that’s a curse, and he knows it, but what other options are there? Die? Give up? Never. “You… you find something that matters, and you give yourself to it.” What that looks like has to be up to Wolfwood, just like Vash had to find his own path forward. “You stay alive, and you find some way to do good for somebody, and every day you get up, and you keep going.” And it will hurt the whole time, he knows. He knows. “That’s what I do. That's all I know how to do."

For a long time, holding someone and being held had been something he hadn't ever allowed himself, no matter how much that denial hurt. Even though, once upon a time, he'd just been a tiny little boy who went out of his way to do just that for the children around him. In a lot of ways, it felt so foreign and forbidden now, like he shouldn't be allowed, and that had been a rule he'd lived by.

But Blondie had been helping break down that barrier, little by little, first by giving him an excuse to tell himself that it been what Vash needed, and then to accept the fact that it was something he was allowed, too. It still felt wrong, still felt like he was taking comfort he didn't deserve. But when Vash held him close, he sank into the hold immediately, fuck what he was or wasn't allowed, and the old, instinctive motions came back as if he were small again, rocking them both in a somewhat frantic sort of self-soothing motion that he'd known how to do for almost as long as he'd known his own name.

He hid his face in the crook of his shoulder, sniffling back tears in a way that was hardly doing much to actually keep them down, but he was listening even as he tucked himself into that hold and let himself accept the sense of safety he gave. Vash, both - all - of them, had become the only place he could feel that, and he had started to become as addicted to the feeling as he had the nicotine in his smokes. At least this didn't risk putting him into an even earlier grave.

"That was you. At first...at first it was the kids, I had to keep going so they would be safe, and then you came along and...and for the first time, I wanted something."

No, maybe he wasn't the same man, but to be honest, the thought that there was a distinction hadn't even occurred to him until just now, so knowing the truth and keeping the two of them separate in his mind was pointless, except for the fact that it meant he knew that there was another man out there that he had hurt, possibly dead, and maybe that was his fault, too.

"Then...then your family took the kids," because there really was no doubt in his mind that Luida and the rest of Home were his family, as much as the kids and Livio and Miss Melanie were for Nicholas, whether he felt deserving of that or not. "Chapel can't hurt 'em anymore, they're bein' taken care of by people better than me, and...and you and Blondie are all I have left. But I keep hurtin' you!"

He shifted, holding him tighter, as if even his hold was a form of apology.

"You already hurt so much, and I just make it worse. Blondie, too, I just wanna make it stop, but I can't, I don't know how, and you both deserve to be happy! All of you."

He didn't know if that was an answer, or whether it was even close to helping him figure out what to do with himself. But his thoughts were muddled, latching onto one thing after another that had been weighing on his mind, as they came to him as if getting it all out there would help all of the pieces fall into place and he would suddenly know how to make it all right.

It really was so much easier when he kept things bottled up. Refusing to think about them made it easier to think clearly. As he was now, he was just a mess, a hodgepodge of hurts and worries and sadness that was blended together until he couldn't tell what was what or where it all connected. He'd wanted to apologize, for so many things. Proper apologies, for all the ways he'd fucked up and done the wrong thing since meeting him. Now, all he could do was dump all of his pain onto the shoulders of a man who deserved better, who didn't even have an actual connection to him to begin with, except for a resemblance to the man he was missing. He couldn't even be that.

"I know...I know I can't replace him. I'm sorry I can't be him. I don't..." He almost didn't finish the thought, worried it was too much, too presumptuous, an offense to the memory of the person Vash had lost. But he wanted, so much, he was selfish, greedy, a bastard who wanted more than he should and had started having trouble reminding himself not to ask for more than a monster like him deserved. So even as the shame made him choke on another sobbing fit and shift against him as if he were trying to hide away from the guilt but couldn't bear to let him go, he tried again to voice the want for something that for two years he hadn't thought he would ever be allowed again. "Please. I'm sorry, I know I don't deserve it, but I missed you-...him-...I...I don't want to be alone again! Blondie will find Nico again, and they won't need me anymore, and I'll be alone!"

In the end, the guilt of the want was still too much, and he bit down on his lip to keep from asking for it directly, his voice catching in his throat in soft, miserable sounds.

I keep hurting you! Wolfwood protests, and Vash shifts automatically, that hand on the back of Wolfwood's head now stroking over his hair, Vash's fingers tangling in the strands, blunt nails gentle across his scalp. It's not the same soothing backrubs that Rem used to give him when he was little. This is... well. Arguably more intimate, for all that it's meant to soothe. Wolfwood is warm against him, solid, real, the scent of him so familiar, and Vash can't help it when his eyes close, just for the moment, to better remember every touch, every sound. I don't want to be alone, Wolfwood says, and it takes every last bit of strength in Vash not to turn his face to Wolfwood's and kiss him until every single one of those fears was allayed. God he wants.

He can't pretend that he doesn't hear the words under what Wolfwood's saying, either, the wanting there. I can't replace him, but. But. But drunk as he'd been, Wolfwood had kissed him back in that inn. Wolfwood had held his hand like it was the finest porcelain, had held on to him, awkward as it had been, on the walk here. Vash doesn't remember much after they'd found each other in December, but he's sure that part of what he'd shown Wolfwood had been the extent of his feelings for the man, and here he is, still here. Still wanting to be needed.

It's so unfair. He hadn't known how much Wolfwood meant to him until after he'd gone, and now that there's a chance to have that life, to have him, he's promised himself elsewhere. He's obligated elsewhere. That hand on the back of Wolfwood's head never stops, stroking gently through his hair and across his scalp, soothing. Steadying, he hopes. He's not feeling very steady right now, though.

“You deserve so much better than this.” He can feel Wolfwood beginning to protest before he's even done, and he presses his cheek to the top of Wolfwood's head before the other man can say anything. “No, please, Wolfwood. Nick.” He's never used that name before, isn't sure how it'll be taken, but he needs his words to be closer to this man, even if he's not allowed to be. “Nick. You won't be alone, I promise you.” Is that a promise he can keep? Maybe. Please, maybe.

“There's so many of us here now, you, and me. There's no reason to be alone ever again.” And that's not what Wolfwood means, that's not what he wants, Vash knows this, he knows, but it's the soft cushion for the blow that's coming, it's the promise he can keep, before he has to share the promise that he doens't have a choice about.

“And you'll always know where to find me, if I'm the one you w... the one you're looking for.” Why didn't he get drunk first. Why did he agree to this talk now, why didn't he just die when he was supposed to? “I'll be in July, with the little ones. I've promised...” No, it's bigger than a promise. This debt goes back much further than a promise to his black-haired brother a few weeks ago. “I owe Nai a safe home, a childhood, protection and love and... and everything he didn't have. Everything I denied him, by not seeing what was happening in time.” Rem had done more than any person could possibly have asked for, but she was only one person, and she was human. She didn't understand, couldn't understand, the twins the way another plant could. They needed community, and they needed stability, and Knives was right -- one of them had to step up.

And that wouldn't mean anything for the two of them, wouldn't mean a damn thing about what they could have with each other, except. Except for the problem of whatever had happened in December. Except for the elephant in the room. "And as long as he's afraid of you, I can't...” His voice trails off, unwilling to finish that ultimatum. Nai has to come first, that's all there is to it, no matter how much it hurts his friend. His dear, dear friend. His friend who deserves nothing but happiness, but all Vash has to offer is apologies.

Edited 2023-08-04 01:51 (UTC)

There was something about the feeling of his fingers combing through his hair that was strangely electric, tingling as if he could feel every single hair on top of his head being brushed through and soothed, narrowing his focus down to that point of contact and helping pull his attention away from the raw, bone-deep pain roaring through his mind. For a while, he simply melted into it, letting himself be comforted and held. It was nice enough that, even when he did in fact feel his face screw itself into a little frown in preparation of protesting that he did not deserve, he had settled down to more of that calm facade he had always carried himself with before.

And oh, he remembered the flash of love that had been directed at him, but it had been tainted by the shame of realizing that Vash had known he'd come so close to trying to kill him, a mistake he'd carried guilt for ever since he'd very nearly shot him up on that roof. The love had been so incongruous with those actions, how could he possibly love him, knowing that? After he'd personally hand-delivered him to Knives so that he could be held and tortured for months. It had to have been a mistake.

It had taken the state of that grave to finally drive home that it had been real, regardless of whether he felt worthy of it at all. So at the very least, he was able to accept that despite everything else, Vash did care, and it was one of the few things that helped those fingers in his hair keep him soothed, despite feeling like Vash's insistence that he "deserved" anything may not have been a lie, but it was severely unearned.

But then the words he was actually saying began to sink in, and while they were innocuous enough on the surface, something inside of him could feel the way they skirted around something. Dodged around something that was being left unsaid. Understanding crept in slowly, in fits and starts, so that at first he almost seemed not to respond. But it came eventually, and when the full weight of what he was saying sank in, Nicholas' body went cold.

He wasn't saying he would be there, reassuring him that he wouldn't be lonely because he was there. He was talking as if he wouldn't be there at all. They weren't going to travel together again. He was leaving; or more precisely, he was finally staying put, finally had a home, and the expectation was that Wolfwood would not be there.

Because he couldn't be. He'd hurt the kid. For a second, his mind flickered back to the question he'd begged of Blondie back in December, about how to make it right, and his reassurances that they might have been out of synch with each other because of the things he'd done, but it would still be alright so long as he tried, and for a brief moment, a short, bitter, almost hysterical laugh erupted out of him. It had already been too late, even then. He couldn't make it right. Everything he'd done, the killing, the betrayal, almost getting himself killed and making Vash suffer the trauma of losing him, and the thing that hammered the final nail in that proverbial coffin was one moment of mindless aggression made in a state of shock.

He hadn't even pulled the trigger, but the damage had already been done, and there was no coming back from that.

He didn't break down again when realization hit him. On the contrary; he seemed to go still, his rocking slowing and his back straightening until he could pull away just enough that he wasn't crowding against him. But he couldn't look at him, and his face was absolutely pale, his expression somehow both calm and absolutely devastated at the same time, brow pinched and eyes wide but his mouth relaxed. And he just gave a small nod, a jerky, infinitesimal motion that barely carried through into reality. He could feel himself sinking into that floaty feeling, again, the one that had come as they'd walked to the orphanage and he'd mentally prepared himself for what he was about to do, and already, his mind was wrapping itself around the reality of what was happening and working to make sense of it all.

This...this was how it should have been, wasn't it? They were family. Vash had to look out for them, and Nai was so young and had so much potential to fall so far if they weren't careful. He didn't belong with a family, that wasn't his lot in life, never had been, and he'd already done more harm than good before they had even had a chance to settle.

He was just a contract killer, sent to lead this man to his death, who had let himself get attached, let Vash think he was worth caring about to begin with.

He still had people to find, anyway. Nico, the partner of the man buried at December. The kid they'd found in the desert. Maybe helping them find their way home to their family was his penance. Make up for what he did by helping them find their family.

And besides; he wasn't going to live very long, anyway. He'd always known that. At least this way, he wouldn't hurt Vash all over again, making him watch him die in a decade, maybe two at the most.

He didn't seem to notice the way his hands were shaking as they slowely let him go, even as the act made a soft little gasp catch in his throat, the lost of the contact feeling physically painful with the thought that it might be the last time. Instead, they came to rest in the material of the front of his coat, mindlessly rubbing it between his fingers as if memorizing the texture, the color of it, the shape of the closures that held it on.

"I-...I'm sorry I hurt 'im. I-..." The sentence died on his lips. Never meant to hurt him would be a lie. There had been a moment when it would have been so easy, and he'd almost done it. And he didn't know, now, how he was going to deal with the guilt of that. But..."I hope he's alright. I know it...probably won't make any difference, but...tell 'im I'm sorry. I really am."

And it was the truth. Knowing what he did, now, about the things that the two of them had been through at such a young age, and remembering what had happened to Livio and the man it had shaped him into, he didn't blame the kid. He hadn't done the things Millions Knives had done. There was still hope for him. They could help him be better. He didn't have to go down the same path. But Nicholas' actions had certainly not helped him learn that not every human was a bloodthirsty monster.

"I really am sorry, Vash. About...about everything. Everything. I made so many mistakes. You...you were right about me." He is a coward. "I'm sorry I couldn't be better. You deserve better." Inside, his mind was screaming, crying out and begging; please stay, please, please just today! But his voice was soft, level and calm, if not strained. He couldn't ask that of him. He'd already hurt him enough. He tried to glance up at him, but his eyes never quite reached his face, darting away to the far corner of the room. Tears had begun rolling down his face again, but at least he wasn't a ridiculous, sobbing mess, making a fool of himself and making it all harder on Vash.

The thought made his face pinch into a strange little frown, though, and he seemed to come out of the stunned stupor just a bit, glancing back around the room and looking back towards the door with another soft little gasp.

"We need to let Blondie know. I-...I don't wanna just disappear on 'im. When 'e comes back, I guess. He'll worry if I don't go with you and just leave without explainin'."

And it all sounded so reasonable, so why did he suddenly feel like he couldn't breathe, as if the realization that he would be saying good bye to the both of them had suddenly punched him in the chest and his lungs had locked up. His hands clutched tightly into the red fabric of his coat as he began to slowly crumble all over again. Oh God. Oh God, they were leaving, he was going to be on his own, and he'd never see them again! He should be happy for them, they had their family again, but all he could think about was how much he wanted them to stay!

He holds on to Wolfwood as long as he can, but he knew going into this talk how things were going to end. No matter what was said, no matter how much he might want to keep holding on, at the end of it all he can't trust Wolfwood around Nai. He doesn't know exactly what happened between them, but he has a pretty good idea – Wolfwood was frightened, and Nai was almost hurt because of that fear.

He'll trust Wolfwood at his back any time, under any conditions, but he cannot put Nai in danger. He cannot risk the repercussions Wolfwood would face if he harmed the boy. To keep them both safe, he has to keep them apart. And he knew that this would hurt Wolfwood, his closest friend, the man he really wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He knew going in that this talk would be a knife in Wolfwood's back, and so when the other man pulls away, when he puts his hands between them to keep Vash back, Vash doesn't fight it.

And he expects the apology, because Wolfwood is a good man, and he expects the self-recriminating language, too, because Wolfwood has been hurt too often. What can he say, to get Wolfwood to not talk about himself like he's underserving? I love you so much I think I might die from it but sorry, I can't trust you with my brother's safety? Wolfwood's already crying again – and so is Vash, by this point – so why drag things out even further? Nothing he says could make this any better, there's nothing he can give this man to ease any of this hurt. For one second, just one brief moment Vash lets himself resent his obligations – not Nai, no, but Knives, for showing him where he was needed. Rem, for putting her house next to the site of a tragedy that would draw his other selves in but not allow them to stay. Himself, for not having seen the changes in Knives all those years ago, for having tallied such a debt over the years that he couldn't say no to its repayment. For letting himself get attached when he knew it was a bad idea.

He's tried for years to keep that distance between himself and the rest of the people on the planet, to avoid anything more than the occasional drunken kiss, or lingering look – he couldn't stay, and they always aged so quickly. But then this one was dropped right in his lap -- another resentment tally in Knives's book -- and god, he wants to keep him! With Wolfwood he's not a monster, or a brother, with all the obligation and pain tied to that word. He's not a job, not anymore. He thought, maybe... maybe this time...

He's so lost in his own mess that he has to have misheard what Wolfwood said last, though. He's lost the right to hold this man, but hands on the shoulders of a distraught friend should be okay, shouldn't they?

“What do you mean, leave? Where are you going?” Wolfwood had said just a few minutes back that he was going to stay with the Vash outside, that they were going to keep looking for the other Wolfwood. And sure, he'd been worried than once they found that other Wolfwood that he wouldn't be welcome to travel with them anymore – which Vash thinks is nonsense, personally, but he doesn't get to have an opinion about that – but that Wolfwood wasn't at the orphanage. He might still be out there. They have to keep looking! “You're going to go with Vash, to find Nico. Aren't you?”

The hands on his shoulders helped, at least a little, to keep him grounded when he started to feel himself spiral, but it just wasn't quite enough. By the time Vash's confused questions came, he had already worked himself up into a ball of raw nerves, his face twisting into a horrified frown before he was shaking his head furiously.

"I can't-...I can't keep 'im away from his family! I'll find Nico, I can't ask 'im to stay with me, he doesn't deserve that, none of you deserve that! You can finally be happy! I can't take that away from you!"

He was crying again, but the crying itself didn't seem to be the reason he suddenly couldn't seem to take a breath. The pain in his chest and the almost physical feeling of something squeezing his lungs until he could only gasp for air were the only things that could make him let go of the desperate hold he had on his coat. So he held onto both; clinging to his coat with one hand and reaching up with the other to clutch at his chest.

That alone was what managed to begin to bring him out of the spiral of self-hate that rolled through his head, but it wasn't necessarily better, especially not when it brought back the very horrible memory of sitting next to Vash and waiting, and then feeling his breath beginning to catch in almost the same way as he felt his life slipping through his fingers.

Something was wrong. Something was wrong, and he couldn't breathe. He visibly swooned, eyes blinking as they went unfocused, and he let out a soft, woozy moan before wilting against the frame in front of him, his forehead resting on Vash's shoulder.

"Help-...Vash-...help..." He wasn't even sure if his voice had formed words, realizing dimly that his hearing had gone muffled and his vision was narrowing down, going fuzzy at the edges. He was losing consciousness. Why was he losing consciousness? Why can't he breathe?

Something was wrong. Before Vash could respond to Wolfwood's words, there was something wrong with Wolfwood's heart that demanded his attention -- it was beating too fast, far too fast. Fast like it had been in the throes of too many of those awful vials he'd poisoned himself with.

Vash froze, terror and uncertainty warring within him. It was just fear, wasn't it? Sorrow and stress? His own heart was pounding too, surely... But then Wolfwood swayed, his voice tight as he fell against Vash's shoulder, his heart beating too fast, his breathing not right and it was happening again, it was happening again, there wasn't any blood this time but he was listening to Wolfwood's heart fail again, god, please, not again. Not again.

He clutched Wolfwood to him in a crushing embrace, as though he could stop what was happening by holding Wolfwood close enough, like his heart could do the work for two if he just wanted it enough. It was happening again, and his mental scream must have carried for miles -- not again, please. Please. Take me, not him. Please. Electricity cracked under his skin, surging into readiness. He couldn't do a damn thing for a racing heartbeat and tight lungs -- his medical knowledge began and ended with wound care -- but the moment that strong heart stopped, the instant those great lungs seized, and he would pour every bit of energy he had into the other man. Maybe it wouldn't be enough. Maybe he'd just kill them both.

That was better than sitting here, again, and watching Wolfwood die.

Not again. Not again, please. Please, I'm sorry, not again!

Vash had honestly meant to go to Octovern. And be careful. And learn as much as he could. But before long, he started catching some emotions that the other Vash was not keeping contained, and at one point they went so intense, even at the distance, that he ended up sprinting back.

And here he was, slipping into the room, a little winded, and then taking just a moment to center himself while he takes in the sight. They were holding each other, but the panic from Vash - and, this close, Wolfwood - was something he could practically taste in the air. Paired up with with Wolfwood's nearly nonexistent breaths... Vsah just reached for whatever calm he had inside his heart - in shortage today to begin with - and started radiating it as strongly as he could. Everyone in the near vicinity was going to feel that, but as long as he could ameliorate whatever was happening in the room, he was going to take that.

"Hey. Hey, easy. Easy." He had some idea that the other Vash might be really close to bursting out in feathers again, but that did not stop him from coming close and wrapping both of them in his arms, gently. "Both of you. It's all right. It's all right. Breathe with me, all right? In, two, three, four, out, two, three four."

He was also radiating, towards both of them, the kind of energy he gave the unwell bulbed sisters. Steadying, warm. Lines glowing over his face and neck and the uncovered part of his hand.

Things seemed to be happening around him suddenly, though his foggy brain had a hard time making sense of it. He felt himself being clutched tight, willingly sinking into it and feeling a wave of relief at the support, but something else flared up around him, an odd sensation that he knew, he remembered, but his mind was too muddled for it to immediately register beyond "bad, wrong, help, make it stop, protect!" in a way that began to make him stir in the hold, trying to reach out for the source of it.

It was an odd, horrible feeling, his brain screaming for air on one aborted breath and then needing to protect in the next, and the moment realization lit up like a match in the fog, it honestly didn't make it any better.

It was Vash. Vash was panicking. Something was wrong with Nicholas and Vash was panicking and he couldn't stop, couldn't get himself under control, it just made it worse!

But then all at once, through the electricity tingling in the air and haze that had a grip on his mind, a third presence suddenly came through, familiar and comforting and washing over him before he felt another arm wrapping around his back and heard his voice in his ear, sounding like it was coming from under water but soft and reassuring nonetheless. It was the soothing Whatever He Was Doing that helped, first, making his body begin to relax until he could make sense of the words he was muttering, and he gave a soft moan in reply. The first few attempts at breathing he gave still wanted to hiccup sharply in his chest before they could follow all the way through, but then his body seemed to relax enough that his lungs unclenched, and he was finally able to draw in a deep, shuddering breath.

In, out, in, out, until he went almost completely limp in their hold, shaking and breathing, and slowly coming back to consciousness, the sensation almost like unwrapping a thick, suffocating blanket from around his brain.

He felt exhausted, but...the more lucid he became, the more humiliated, too, and the more concerned. He shifted in the hold enough to look up at the man he'd sent once more into a horrified panic, patting him on the chest, moving both hands to stroke against his shoulders, trying to soothe him back down. And the entire time, a tiny part of his mind sent out silent cries of pleading gratitude that Blondie had come back in time to help stop...whatever that had been. Panic? Too worked up, maybe, had he put too much strain on his heart? He didn't know, and he didn't have the time or energy to worry about it right now.

"Vash, hey. It's ok. I'm ok. It's ok, Vash."

He suspected, just a little, that when Blondie stopped the whole comforting brain-whammy he was doing, he probably wouldn't be ok, the vague feelings of guilt and embarrassment would come back with a roaring vengeance, but as it was, it had him feeling strangely calm, unable to grasp back onto the distress that had had such a fierce grip on him only minutes before.

He turned to give him a grateful look, only to find himself momentarily dazzled by the bright, blue glow of patterns of white-blue lines across his features, and he had to blink to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

"Ooh..." The little mutter sounded almost dazed, and for a moment, he just stared in wide-eyed fascination. But no, that wasn't important, he could worry about that once they got Needle-Noggin settled, so he turned his attention back to the man in front of him, whispering softly at him and reaching up to hold his face with still-trembling hands, the hold steadying enough that it was barely noticeable once they were in place.

Unfortunately, not long afterward, a soft knock on the door of the room made his proverbial hackles raise, and a soft voice from out in the hall broke the sense of being isolated with just the two of them.

"Room service. I have your lemonade here." He gave a soft, sighing growl of frustration before tamping it down, his hands fisting in Vash's coat, instinctively trying to distract him from the outsider, to keep him grounded and focused on just the two of them as he called out a soft reply.

"Leave it at the door, thanks."

His world narrowed, until there was nothing but the sound of Wolfwood's heartbeat, the rasp of his breathing, the groans and sighs of his body as it struggled to function. Vash had never before reached out to a human the way he could with his plant family, but he thought that maybe... maybe if he could connect Wolfwood's heart with his own, the way he'd done with the plant on the sand steamer, maybe...

But they were interrupted before he could try, by pounding footsteps, the familiar presence of self-not self, and an aura of calm that washed over him, urging him to stop his efforts, to relax into what was happening, to stop fighting and just breathe. Careless in his grief, Vash pushed back hard against that calming influence – Wolfwood was dying, what was the point of being calm?! He didn't need calm, he needed help!

And then, a second miracle, as Wolfwood shifted in his arms, his heartrate slowing, his breathing evening out, pulling back from that precipice that it felt they'd both been leaning into. Wolfwood was breathing, speaking, redeemed again! And when he laid his hands on gently on Vash's face, all Vash could do was cry with relief.

I can't watch him die again, he'd said to Vash in that hotel in December, and somehow, somehow, Vash had returned and spared him that. Once he was able to get himself together there would be thanks, so many thanks, and so many questions... but for now, not even the knock at the door could stop the tears and graceless sobbing.

Oh.

Oh, that was enough to steady Wolfwood.

Vash's own heart unclenched. Because if had made a mistake, if the cause had been indeed physical rather than emotional, that might have worked so much worse.

And even with the pushback from Vash, he kept the calm coming. Because it was helping. And... because everyone else in the building didn't need to come find out what was happening.

When Wolfwood looked up, Vash was smiling at him, marks and all. It was a very, very shaky smile, but present nonetheless. He almost tried to speak again, when the knock came, and he started slightly.

Oh.

The lemonade.

Vash made a tiny noise in the back of his throat, then shook his head. Then chirped. "Yes, please, at the door. I'll come pick it up before it's had a chance to warm up!"

That, on top of the calm, should help, he thought.

And then the other Vash was crying, hard and heart-wrenching. It was almost too much for this one, and his arms shifted, gathering both of them even more protectively even as he let Wolfwood do what needed to be done.

He did not speak further, not until Vash's crying had at least begun to ease up somewhat, and not a little after that.

Then it was a quiet, certain, "I love you both."

They had clearly managed to work each other up to the point where words alone were not enough. But he knew, oh, he knew that none of that had been on purpose, not on either side, and that while he could provide them the space to do so, the only permanent improvement could happen if they could help each other.

Just enough.

But that was for later, yet. Steadying and reassuring still were the need. For both of them.

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