In and around Octovern -- later

[love_and_peace]

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.

Comments

[love_and_peace]

No, July really is the worst possible place for her house, he agrees, smiling sympathetically in Vash’s direction. If it was just a matter of his own discomfort, he would have dealt with it, but if it’s going to prevent Vash from visiting – and who knows how many other Vashes too – then maybe he should talk to Rem about moving.

That’ll involve explaining to her what he did to the city, and that won’t be easy for her to hear. He’s pretty sure the other Vashes would prefer to suffer in proximity to July rather than tell Rem what happened there, just like he would… but for their sakes, and for Rem’s, he’ll tell her. She’ll find out eventually, one way or the other. It’s best that it comes from one of them, so that she can be certain that what she’s hearing, every gruesome detail of it, is true.

But Wolfwood at least can be spared his discomfort for the time being. He gives Vash’s hand a final squeeze, then lets go, so that he can wrap both arms around the man currently trying to burrow into his shoulder. Twenty years isn’t long enough for a life, but it gives them some time to work. “Don’t worry about it now,” he murmurs into Wolfwood’s hair, willing the other man calm. “There’s time, and you have people to find first.” While they travel, he can do some research with Rem. If Conrad really was responsible for the rapid healing that was inflicted on Wolfwood, then there’s a very good chance his research was based on plant biology… and Vash knows of one very thorough report on plant biology that he could look through.

Pushing that thought way down to grieve over later, he looks over to catch Vash’s eye. She’s alive, he mouths with a smile, and sends Vash an image of Knives’s house out near Chisler’s Hill, their dark-haired brother standing grumpily in the bare front yard. Words are still difficult over Plant Radio – for him, it’s really just easier to use emotions and images! – but he’s getting better!

Go alone, no humans. She’s scared. With Knives, and safe.

If the Knives in Chisler’s Hill’s life paralleled his own, then he might be a source of information about Conrad’s methods too. It can’t hurt to ask, right?

[tallredridinghood]

"It's all right. It certainly does not need to be decided on now, or even happen at all. But just - consider that there may be different paths that the darkest ones that are easier to see."

He nodded to the other Vash, squeezed Wolfwood's shoulder, and gently rose to go get that lemonade before someone decided to ask if anything was wrong.

Then what Vash was telling him sank in, and he froze, one hand on the door but now instead of trying to open it, leaning on it heavily. The calming aura around them shattered, sharp, palpable, as he could only stare blankly at the door in front of him.

She was alive. Go alone... where Knives was.

Go with Wolfwood, back to JuLai.

He wasn't mentally screaming this time, at least. Instead, he was just quiet, the only sound or anything from him soft, shuddering breaths.

[mercifullyheavy]

At the very least, he couldn't argue with "you don't have to decide now, just think on it," and the fact that his anxiety about the whole thing had been accepted so easily helped settle a lot of the nerves that the thought had brought to the surface. Not that he would have expected for either of them to force it on him, especially not if the things he'd seen in Needle-Noggin's memories were any indication. Surely they of all people would understand. But knowing that, and his brain disregarding all of the awful feelings associated with the thought of more experiments, were two completely different things.

It was enough, though, that he gave a small, hummed sound of acknowledgement before he sighed, the loss of their hands in his lessened when Vash wrapped his arms around him. No matter what else - his anxieties, the fear he'd once felt around the man and the sheer amount of power he held just under the surface, threatening to go off if he lost control, the weight of everything that had happened recently - this felt safe. Warm and comfortable and like the only place he could let his guard down, regardless of which of the two of them he was seeking refuge against.

With the soothing aura Blondie was giving off and so many secrets finally off his chest where they'd been weighing him down like a boulder for so long, he finally began to feel himself settle, and he wrapped his arms around him in turn, giving a little wiggle so that he could sink more fully against his chest with the smallest beginnings of a drowsy little smile pressed against Vash's neck.

It was quiet and calm and safe and comforting, up until the moment it wasn't, when that comforting aura shattered, and he immediately felt his anxiety spike, his shoulders hunching with a shocked little wheeze.

His head lifted, turning to look at Blondie as he stood over against the door, seemingly locked in his own sudden anxiety. Anybody not one of the three of them might not have been able to see it for what it was, as hard as he tried to hold it inside, but it was clear as day to him, and he suspected Needle-Noggin, too. The only question was what had set it off, this time.

"Blondie? Hey, hey, c'mere. Come back, Vash." Distract him from whatever was going on in his head, redirect him, and while he was too far away to reach where he was sitting and the last thing he wanted to do was leave the circle of arms he was in, if he didn't come out of whatever was in his head, he absolutely would get up and go to him.

Until then, even though he had no ability to do the whole mind-talking-aura-feeling thing they did, he'd gotten so used to them being able to peek into his own thoughts after he'd first realized Vash was doing it over two years ago that he began doing his best to think at him hard enough that he would be heard.

Come back, Vash, you're ok. What's wrong? You're safe, we're all safe, come back.

[love_and_peace]

Oh, that's... he'd meant that to be good news! Joyful news! He'd hoped that would come across as good news, anyway.

He'd hoped he'd have a little longer to hold Wolfwood.

"I'm sorry," he calls over his shoulder, extricating himself from Wolfwood's arms with an apologetic smile. He should have known better than to speak over their connection -- every time he tries, with any other independent, it's always a disaster. He really should stop trying. "They won't be leaving any time soon, so you don't have to decide now."

It's unfair to Wolfwood to leave him out of the rest of this conversation, he thinks, rising to his feet and clothing himself once again in Vash the Stampede's trademarked silly smile. He needs the emotional armor of him comfortable old mask, or he'll never be able to walk out of this room. "I told him that our sister is alive," he explains to Wolfwood, wishing -- not for the first time -- that he had the ability to radiate calm the way his other self here does. "But she's very frightened of humans, so if he goes to see her, I'm sorry, but you'll need to stay out of sight." Wolfwood wouldn't have to be left behind! He'd just need to be elsewhere for a few hours, that's all.

He doesn't mention Knives to Wolfwood. If he stays out of sight of Tessla, then he'll be out of sight of Knives, and there won't be any need for them to meet.

[tallredridinghood]

For a moment, their voices came to him as though through a thick layer of liquid, how he had glimpsed bulbed plants perceived voices from outside. Wolfwood's second reassurance got through a little bit better, though he didn't realize it was thought at him, rather than spoken out loud.

A few more deep breaths, and he could properly recognize words again. He didn't turn around yet, though, even if he could hear that Vash had gotten up, which, was Wolfwood all right? He couldn't face them, just for another moment.

"I'm. Sorry. It - has been a day of surprises." And it was still morning. "They had been so-- horrible to her, and parts of her were still... alive. After fifty years. Just - the horror of -- it all." And it had been a hundred and fifty years since, but -- he almost felt a sudden hope, that the way Nai had been brought from before the crash, she might have been brought from before was hurt, but then, no. She would not have been afraid of people, had that been the case. "I never thought it would be possible-- either her or Rem."

He squared his shoulders, and finally turned around, his eyes dry but ... bottomless.

He also wasn't sure he was ready to face Knives again. Or what Knives might have been teaching Tessla, between his hatred for humanity and her fear of it, and would he even be welcome there? Which had definitely added to the freezing.

"I'm fine." More or less. His eyes moved between the other two, to see how much damage his lapse had done, and if he needed to calm things down again. Which would be an effort, but both of them were worth it.

[mercifullyheavy]

He didn't even fight when Vash pulled away to stand and put that painfully fake smile on his face again, just stared between the two of them in confusion before the words sank in and his eyes went wide, and he was on his feet before he even realized what he was doing. It was easier to forget his own worries, when a bombshell like that was dropped on them, and suddenly he was focused again on doing anything he could to help soothe what was very obviously a horrible shock.

"You mean-...the little one, before you were born? Tessa? No...Tessla?" He shook his head, his mind already conjuring up all sorts of horrors that the poor thing might have already been through, if she was already afraid of humans. "Course not, she won't see a speck of me, I promise!"

And then Blondie made the whole thing even worse, and the thought of that little girl, chopped into bits and floating in those vats but alive made him suddenly move forward and wrap his arms around him in a tight hold.

"Fuck, Vash." His voice was soft, and it was clear that he wasn't falling for the 'I'm fine' act one little bit. "I...I don't even know what to say, at this point. Just...fuck. It's gonna be ok, though. I'll take yah t'check on 'er when you're ready, keep well outta the way so I don't scare 'er. Maybe it'll help, gettin' t'see 'er safe an' sound, yeah? But not until you're ready, alright? You got a lotta stuff just dropped on your head today. It's alright if you need time."

It was strange, and not even something he even seemed to realize was happening, the way his entire focus seemed to just switch so quickly now that it was one of them who was in distress. He couldn't think about his own worries right now, not when Blondie was dealing with so much, not when both of them were trying so hard to hide the pain.

So it probably wasn't much of a surprise when he shifted just enough to look back at Needle-Noggin, the concern on his face holding just a little bit more of a stubborn edge to it as he gestured him over.

"You. You c'mere, too. Don't think that smile fooled me one little bit, you know they never have." He held his arm out, his fingers making mindless little grabby wiggles as he silently demanded he come in to join the hug.

[love_and_peace]

Fifty years? And she'd still been alive!?

Some days, in the deepest, most secret parts of his heart, he understands completely why Knives did what he did.

It's a relief when Wolfwood goes to comfort Vash, a relief to know these two will have each other to lean on in the months, or even years to come. Who knows where Nico might be, if he's even been brought here? Who knows what's waiting for them in Mesa Probe? They have such a clear bond, such an obvious care for each other... they'll be in good hands.

So when Wolfwood beckons him over, Vash forces his smile even brighter, and shakes his head.

"Three's a crowd, haven't you heard?" If he accepts that invitation, he won't be able to let go. If he walks into that embrace, he's going to kiss Wolfwood until neither of them can breathe, and that'll just make Vash uncomfortable, won't it? He's having a hard enough day as it is, he doesn't need, well. That, right in his face. There's no point in drawing out this goodbye -- they'll see each other again! It'll be okay.

He's almost able to believe it.

"It sounds like you two still have some plans to plan, routes to, uh, route, drinks to drink!" If he heads for the door, will they try to stop him? If so, he might go out the window. He really can't stay. He wants to stay so much his chest hurts from it, but he can't. "Say nice things about me when I'm gone, okay?"

[tallredridinghood]

Vash was next to the door, so the other him would have to go past him to leave, and he knew that Wolfwood would hate to see him go. But he also could see Vash's face, and he recognizes the determination there.

So instead of trying to stop him, as such, he does reach to hold the other one's shoulders. "Three is company. So we will be expecting yours again. All right?"

Take care of yourself. Soft. Hopeful. I'll do my best to take care of him.

Then he does stand aside, though one hand takes a little longer to drop from those shoulders.

[mercifullyheavy]

Something about the stubborn look on his face almost crumbled when he refused to come over, and when he started saying things that were obviously meant to be an excuse to dip out, and the reality of the conversation they'd had only minutes before came rushing back. This was it. He was leaving. And there was no guarantee he'd ever see him again. Even with Blondie working so hard to be the calm in the storm of every bad emotion that was roaring through the room, the grief still managed to resurface. He wasn't panicking, but that didn't mean the grief just magically went away.

When Blondie pulled away to address him properly, he stepped back, stuffing his hands in his pockets and clenching his teeth so hard he could hear the muscles in his jaw hissing faintly in his ears with the effort, but he was doing his best not to go off again, calm enough to want to avoid another outburst like before, either out of some sense of trying to maintain his own pride or a refusal to make the situation worse than it already was.

But then Needle-noggin had to put those last words that way, and Nicholas felt like he'd been slapped across the face. It sounded too much like things he'd heard him say before, things he'd refused to talk about at the time but had sat painfully in his memory for years, now, just weighing his guilt down like a ten ton boulder.

Being able to sit down and have a couple of drinks before the end...It was nice.

"Don't."

One of his hands darted out of his pocket to point an angry finger in his direction. Anger was safe. Anger was the shield he'd hidden behind his whole life, to keep people from seeing how much everything hurt. If he didn't have the courage for any other emotion, he could do anger, even as his lip trembled and he had to blink back even more ugly tears.

"Don't say it like that." He worked his jaw, chewing on his tongue and almost wanting to leave it at that. But if this was it...he huffed out a miserable little breath and shook his head. He couldn't leave it on angry words, even if the emotion he was expressing was exactly that. "You..." What? What does he want to say? What does he need to say? After everything he's already said? And what won't cause just even more pain than he already has? "When you go out there...I want you to...be happy. And don't try an' feed me some chirpy little line, I know better. I don't care how long it takes, I know it's not gonna happen next week or maybe not even for a buncha years. But you've got your family now, right? The fighting is over. You can finally stop running."

He stopped pointing at him to rub his hand angrily across his eyes with a furious little sniff before shoving the hand back into his pocket, sitting heavily back into the chair and only breaking eye contact for a brief moment when the leather shoulder holster holding his sidearm and the glass vials, now filled with cigars instead of drugs, caught his attention from the table out of the corner of his eye. He pulled one of the vials out, angrily popping the cork across the room and going through the motions of cutting and lighting it the cigar with enraged little hand motions that helped hide the way his fingers shook. The first hit of smoke that hit his lungs helped settle some of that, and the distinctive nausea that had started to surface in his throat.

"I know the shit I've been through don't even hold a candle to the shit you have." Holding eye contact was easier when he let himself be angry, too. The more he spoke, though, the softer his voice got. The anger was bleeding out of him. It hadn't been real in the first place, really, but he could pretend, as long as he needed to. Be more like the asshole he'd always been, put up those barriers, make himself an obnoxious, insufferable shithead so that if this was the last time he saw Vash, it would be easier for him to make a clean break, and maybe he wouldn't carry this guilt forever, too. "I probably don't have any right to make these sorts of demands, either, not after the shit I put you through. But you deserve to be happy. Even if I'll never be able to see it. So go be happy. At least..."

And that was the point when he couldn't look him in the eye, because part of him felt guilty for the thing he was about to say. But he believed wholeheartedly, with every fiber of his being, that it was true.

"At least, if you can't do it for yourself, then...do it because He would want you to. He wouldn't want you to go on sufferin' the way you have. Even if you can't believe you deserve it, I promise you, he would."

[love_and_peace]

He doesn't send gratitude back along their connection, but it flows from him nontheless. It's clear, too, in his half smile, the nod of his head – it's not right to ask anything more of this Vash, but they're a resiliant bunch, and perhaps having Wolfwood here to watch over will help Vash put away his own grief and worries for awhile. It's not healthy, but it works, so who's to say what's right?

And then Wolfwood...

He didn't expect that Wolfwood would make his leavetaking easy, but instead of tears, there's anger. The anger's a relief, honestly – tears on Wolfwood just don't sit right. The man was made for big broad feelings, laughter, and protective fury. Not sorrow. Sorrow's too heavy, even for someone as strong as Wolfwood. Vash would rather a thousand accusing glares be thrown his way than to have to endure a single tear. He knows how to respnd to anger! Tears on that strong face just hurt too much.

So his gentle, thankful smile hardens into a comfortable scowl as Wolfwood snaps at him to be happy, to go be with his family, as though the two standing here with him aren't every bit as much his family as the children back in July. As though happiness is something he can go and claim for himself – as though it's something he deserves to claim for himself – instead of finding it in brief golden moments. A smile at the edge of a dust storm. An offkey song, sung at the top of his lungs with a bar full of blurry new friends. The taste of something sweet after weeks of dry hard rations. Waking up before dawn to the fresh emptiness of the desert and the quiet snores from the next bedroll.

Wolfwood drops into the chair, and reaches for his vials, and for a moment Vash's heart stops, holding his breath as he tracks the hand in Wolfwood's pocket with poorly concealed horror. But it's just a cigar, because Wolfwood's right. There's no fighting anymore, no running, no danger. No adventure. The world is saved, the enemy defeated, and there's nothing left but the closing credits and a happily ever after. It's funny, isn't it, how so many great heroic stories all end that way? And then they were happy, like it's that easy. Like everything that had happened can just be put aside, swapped out for farming, or, what, working in a shop. Raising children. Simple, peaceful duties, one day the same as the next, nothing left of the journey but the nightmares and the scars.

But that's fiction. After a hundred and fifty years, how's he supposed to stop moving? How's he supposed to wake up in the same place every day, do the same things, live quietly? How's he supposed to be happy with the trail of dead he's left behind? His world is cinders by now. His family is living at the edge of a mass grave that he's responsible for. Even the promises he's made to the little ones, to watch over their upbringing and make sure they have everything he and his brother didn't, aren't as important as he's pretending they are. There's other Vashes here – there's so many of him! There's Knives, and Rem. He's not needed.

Really, things would be simpler for everyone if he just disappeared, he thinks, and swallows hard against the thought. He can't think like that, not ever. He isn't allowed to think like that.

He has to keep going. Until one of their sisters' portals vanishes him entirely, or until a stray bullet cuts his story short, he can't give up. He doesn't get to stop. So for Nai, and little Vash, he'll return to July. For this Vash here, he'll talk to her about moving, so the rest of his family can visit with a little less grief in their hearts. For Wolfwood, he'll be a destination, a shelter at the end of the road. He'll be happiness for others, and really, what better use of his life could there be?

His Wolfwood is dead, but this one's alive, and looking for connection, so he'll be that connection. He wouldn't want you to suffer, Wolfwood says, and before he can say any more Vash closes the distance between them, catching Wolfwood's flapping jaw with one hand and roughly sealing their mouths together. The kiss pulls the smoke from Wolfwood's lungs and it sears through Vash's chest, hot and poisonous. He could get used to that taste.

Wolfwood wants him happy? Fine. Survive and come back to July. He'll be waiting.