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

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.

The way Vash seemed to just crumble when he reached up to hold his face was certainly not surprising, but it still made a small stab of grief lance through Nick's chest. The calming feeling Blondie was sending out was, helpfully, able to keep him from breaking down the way he had before, but his face still pinched against it in a little frown.

It was his turn to wrap his arms around him and hold him tight, his hand unconsciously moving to brush through the hair at the nape of his neck in a way that wasn't dissimilar to the way he'd done for him.

"I'm sorry, Vash. I'm sorry." When he began rocking them this time, it was to soothe the man he held instead of himself, his cheek pressing against his shoulder so that he could cast a tear-streaked but thankful gaze over to Blondie where he continued to hold them both. If he hadn't come back, he wasn't sure what-...

And then the words hit him, hard enough to hurt even through the calming mood he was sending out, and Wolfwood's face shifted from worried to grief all over again. It was easier for him to keep from losing control of himself again, but it was impossible to hide the fact that hearing those words, regardless of which of them had said it, hurt. He struggled against the urge to break down crying again with Vash, managing to settle himself enough after a moment that even though tears still rolled down his face, he was able to smile over at him, giving him a small nod and reaching out to put his arm around Blondie's shoulder, too.

That cynical voice in his head wanted to snarl that of course he hadn't meant it like that, not when he had Nico out there somewhere, but after everything that had happened the past few weeks and the way Vash's feelings had finally sunk in despite his own self-hate after all this time, he knew better. And that...that just made it more painful.

But he was still calm enough that he buried the pain for now, putting it away to process it after they had gone. He couldn't let himself lose control again, not when Vash was obviously in so much pain.

"I...I love you, too. Both of you. So much." And oh, the dawning of that realization would only add to the hurt when they were gone, he knew, but that was fine. He should have seen his feelings for what they were earlier, shouldn't he? But he was, if nothing else, absolutely terrible at wrapping his mind around what was in his heart until it was too late.

He shifted just enough that he could press a kiss against Blondie's cheek, pulled away to do the same for Vash before pressing his cheek against his and holding him tight.

"You gotta take care of yourself, Vash. Please. You'll be ok, but you have to be kinder to yourself. This was all my fault. Maybe...maybe it's just better this way, huh? I won't be able to keep doin' this to you. So take care of yourself."

He kissed his cheek again before turning to give Blondie a sad, imploring look, the arm around him rubbing small circles in his shoulder. He had no idea what was happening, did he?

"I can't go with you to your family home. Not after what I did to your little brother." He blinked around his tears and looked away, sighing and rocking the three of them together unconsciously. "I'll find Nico for you and tell 'im where to find you.
I...please...please take care of 'im for me, ok...?" He gave a small shake of his head, his eyes glancing to the side to the other man in his arms. He wasn't talking about Nico or Nai. He knew they'd be well cared for. And, logically, he knew Vash would, too. But he knew how hard they were on themselves, individually, how much hurt they carried. Maybe if they looked after each other, they could be ok. They cared so much, loved so much. Maybe together, they could help hold each other up without him.

The thought made him pull away from Blondie just enough that he could wrap his arms back around the other man, hugging him tight and tucking his head into his shoulder. He worried so much about him, he had for a lot longer than he had ever been able to admit. About both of them, even, but...it wasn't hard to feel that one of them had broken even more than the other, somewhere along the way, and he suspected he was the cause of a not insignificant amount of that break. He wished more than anything he could be the one to care for him, but he'd already burned the bridge he would have needed to cross for that to happen, and he couldn't take that back.

"I love you, Vash. I'll always love you. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, and it doesn't matter that you're not Him. I know the man you lost would have felt the same way, and he wouldn't want you hurtin', ok? He'd want you t'finally be happy."

It was hard, to get the words out, his voice strained and quiet, but he meant every one of them. If this was the last time he saw him, he should at least tell him the truth. He held him tight, trying to memorize the feeling of him, every shape and texture of him in his arms, the sound of his voice even as he cried and the smell of the frankly ridiculous amount of product he used for his hair. He didn't know what he was going to do, now that he'd found him again only to have to leave him for good. It was best not to think about it when Vash was already so upset and doing so would set himself off all over again. Luckily, the soothing aura Blondie was giving made his mind let the worries and anxieties of what came next slip through his fingers before he could really grasp onto them. That could be a problem for future Nicholas.

Really, if Wolfwood would stop dying – or seeming to die – on him, they'd all be happier for it!

With both of them holding him gently and talking of love, Vash was finally able to get his bawling under control. Wolfwood wasn't dying – at least, not today, not here – but he was leaving, and the tears for that loss didn't feel like they'd ever stop.

And maybe they wouldn't. He'd never been in love before, but he'd certainly loved before, and he'd carry those loves with him, etched into his heart, for the rest of his life. Why did love have to hurt so much? It wasn't fair! Love should be joyful! Happy! Vivacious and excited and full of life... at least for a little while! Why did he have to fall in love, only to skip ahead to the sad song on a bar jukebox part?

Why couldn't they have had more time?

But thankfully, there was a power even stronger than grief, even more motivating than self-loathing or all-encompassing as love denied. Vash's hands had been tight around Wolfwood's chest, but now they took the other man by the shoulders, pushing him back far enough so that Vash could look him in the eye. Pardon the tears and snuffling -- he really would be crying for the rest of his life, but that didn't mean he was any less furious about what he'd just heard.

“If you think, for one second, that either of us are letting you leave here on your own after almost dying on me? Again?” Sorry for speaking for you, Vash, but he was pretty certain the other him would agree. “Then you don't know me very well at all.”

He'd spent his entire life finding another way. He'd saved entire caravans with a handful of bullets and no lives lost, he'd negotiated peace treaties by playing the idiot until both sides agreed simply to shut him up, he'd spent more than a century fighting off loneliness and regret with laughter and silly hair and never one time put his gun against his head, not even for a moment. Finding another path forward out of this mess? That'd be a piece of cake. He didn't have the faintest idea what that path looked like now, but between the three of them, they could come up with something. Anything was better than sending Wolfwood off on his own!

“I said you wouldn't be alone, and I meant it.”

Vash was listening, and trying to think, how to ease things up. And then Wolfwood kissed his cheek, and he just... melted. The calm only wavered a little, but then steadied; his face, on the other hand, softened in a way it rarely was allowed, open and vulnerable and trusting.

A corner of his mouth tugged up at Vash's statement that was also a question. "You won't be alone." Quiet and certain, because it needed to be said. One way or another, it was the truth.

A deep breath. Then.

"Correct me if I got something wrong, and if I'm missing something.

"You two figured out that you were not, in fact, from the same world. Vash, you'll be going to stay with Rem, to help her take care and keep safe everyone there. Because of what happened in December, you both think Wolfwood can't stay there, and that I will be staying as well. Between all the love that you have, and the feeling of loss, and guilt, and thinking that you will be alone, you panicked, Wolfwood. And that was a little too hard on you, Vash."

A deep breath, and Vash worried his lip a little.

"Let me start with one side of this.

"We were... talking about Rem, this morning, Vash, and it's only now that Wolfwood learned about Tessla. It made him feel even worse for that moment in December, and I'm pretty sure that unless he gets overwhelmed again in the way we all were back there, it will never happen again. He was wary but nothing like that while we talked with Nai before the memories came flooding, and I think now he understands better. Yes?" This was to Wolfwood, but he was rather certain. At least when it came to the small Nai.

"Wolfwood... despite what you think, not all hope is lost on the matter of making it right with Nai. If you had pulled the gun on Vash, or if you had pulled the trigger while I was between you, it might have been a different matter, because then Nai would never accept you near any Vash, no matter what. As it was, it will take patience and kindness, and you might not be able to stay long at first, but I think how terrified he was can heal. And when it comes to children, I know you have patience and kindness in spades. And if I'm right, being able to forgive you will be good for him, too."

More worrying on his lip.

"Am I ... missing anything this far?"

The angry little outburst seemed to shock him somewhat out of his sad little stupor, and he blinked owlishly at Vash as he held him out at arms' length before the weight of what he said sank in. It might not have had quite the effect Vash had hoped it would, though, his eyes darting away as his mouth opened as if to speak, and then stopped, his mind warring with itself. He'd already done so much damage today, arguing could only make things worse, and the answers he could give would just dredge up old hurts that Vash had worked so hard to hide from the world. How was it his place to bring those out into the light, after everything he'd done?

Maybe, though, laying his own truths out was for the best. Maybe it would help him understand why, to him, stepping out of their lives so they could be happy seemed like the only kind answer. He was so tired, he didn't want to argue anymore, not after the past few weeks? Months? However long they'd had since coming here. But Vash was obviously furious, and an angry Vash was a stubborn Vash. Well, more stubborn than he was already, and honestly, there were few people who could match Nicholas toe for toe when it came to sheer bullheadedness.

Slowly, he reached up, both of his hands wrapping gently around the right arm where it gripped his shoulder, absorbing the heat of his skin and letting his fingertips feel his pulse through his glove.

"That's the problem, though. I...Ever since the time we spent recovering from that fight with Leonof and Grey..." No, ok, maybe that's not the best direction to start this talk. His brow furrowed and he rolled his eyes, though it looked more like an imploring glance up at the ceiling than a look of irritation. "No, sorry. Back up, ok. Did...did the other Wolfwood ever tell you what exactly the experiments did to 'im? Or the serum? I never did, I mean...not fully. Just sorta...glossed over it. We had worse things to worry about, and...at that point I didn't expect it would matter much longer, anyway, not after I helped you escape."

He'd known his clock was rapidly counting down, even faster than it had been before. There had been no way they would let him live, and he'd only hoped to keep the collatoral damage down to a minimum when they took him out. He sighed and shook his head. There were so many things he should have said, and saying them now would take more time than any reasonable person would put up with.

"When I said the things they did sped up my metabolism an' made me look older than I am...I left out the fact that it's never really stopped." He grimaced around the sour taste actually admitting this to them left in his mouth. He had come to accept this a long time ago, before Vash had given him a reason to want. Knowing his body was burning itself out into an early grave had just been some nebulous thing, just an unchangeable part of his life. He'd barely had the energy to care. But Vash would, and that fact alone had begun the first little flickers of worry in Nick, too. "Same thing happened to Chapel. Fucker looked like he was what, almost fuckin' 90? Truth was, I don't think he was much older'n 50 at most. Same thing is happenin' to me."

His voice dropped to whisper, laced with shame. He squeezed Vash's hand, rubbing at it reassuringly, already anticipating that the information was going to land like a ton of bricks.

"'M not great with tellin' how old people are, an' I don't even know exactly how old I am, anyway, but...I know I look a good deal older than I am. It hit me the other day, too. I might be 30, now. My whole life, I only ever figured I'd make it to my 50's, at best.

Which...gets me back to what I was sayin' a second ago. When we were stayin' with your people after the fight, Luida...helped me understand. Helped me realize part of why you are the way you are. It hadn't occurred to me before then. How you've spent so long on this planet, never aging, watchin' the rest of us get old and die, over and over again. After that...it was always in the back of my head. Even if...even if I hadn't been draggin' you to your brother...even if you forgave me for that...I'd just end up hurtin' you all over again before long, anyway."

He gave a small, sad laugh, a little smile crossing his features.

"Too bad for me, though, I think that's when...when I started fallin' for you. So hey, that's a first, I actually found someone I want in my life, but I have to deal with the fact that everything about me's just gonna cause 'em pain." The smile was gone as quickly as it appeared, evaporating with a heavy sigh, his eyes still staring unfocused at the corner of the room. "Which...all of that's to say...it's better this way, isn't it? You've got your family, now. You won't have to watch the people you care about get old an' die, anymore. And if I let you go, now...you don't have to watch me go the other way. Won't it be easier on you, movin' on now? Maybe if you just forget about me..."

It hurt to think about, and the words caught in his throat again. He knew that wasn't what they would do. He shook his head, Vash's angry accusations about what it seemed like he thought about them crossing his mind, and he squeezed his hand again.

"No, I know that's not right. I'm just...just a damned hypocrite. I'm afraid to be alone again, but I know keepin' you close will just hurt you more. And I already let you get close enough, you're not gonna forget me. But sometimes I wish you could, so I'd just be some asshole you met once, and you wouldn't hurt when I was just...gone one day. So maybe you wouldn't even notice. But that's not who you are."

In the silence after his words trailed off Blondie's voice chimed back in, ever the voice of reason, and he blinked slowly, glancing up at him and just listening. Having what had just happened spelled out in such simple, reasonable-sounding language made him cringe, blinking through the renewed tears, though that comforting thing he always did was still going a long way to keeping even those heightened emotions contained to a low simmer. He gave an awkward shrug, but nodded as well, rolling the explanation around in his head.

"I...I guess that makes as much sense as anything. I felt like..." He shook his head again, his brow furrowed, and he turned a wary, apologetic glance over at Vash, because this was also beginning to skirt close to things he had been trying to ignore, and a tiny worry that had been niggling in the back of his head without being put into tangible thoughts just yet. "Look...this whole situation is...weird. I know it's weird. And I certainly never expected...for both of you to be here, or..." He groaned, reaching up with one hand to rub his face before hiding his eyes behind it with a sigh. Trying to find polite, delicate ways to put things wasn't the way he was used to handling things. He was blunt, put everything out on the table in a way that left no room for doubts when he said something, and he just could not figure out how to dance around this. "Fuck, look, alright. Fuck. Whatever yanked me out of December that first time dropped me right in Blondie's lap, alright? And I was a fuckin' wreck. I didn't know what was happenin', my head was fucked ten ways to Sunday, but...but he took care of me. And the two of you are different, yeah, but he's still you. And I didn't think I'd ever see you again, but Nico was there, too, so-...so-...I spent the past couple'a years tryin' not to get attached or step where I wasn't welcome, but..."

He threw his hand up as if that explained everything, though now he wasn't looking at either of them and he had flushed from the tips of his ears down to his chest.

"I hardly knew how to navigate this kinda thing when it was just the two of us, I'm not used to...lettin' myself care, and I didn't want Nico t'think I was tryin' to move into his place, and I remember enough about what happened the first time you met me to know I was basically pourin' my whole ass heart out there, so then I was worried about you thinkin' I was tryin' to make you take his place when you had your own shit to worry bout, so I did my best to pretend it wasn't a thing! And now you're both here an' Nico's not, and I know people can get real fuckin' jealous if someone steps in with the person they got their heart set on, and I really don't want either'a you to feel like you need to do that, but-...!"

He groaned loudly, his suddenly rushed, rambling tirade cutting off as he reached up to cover his face again. That soothing aura apparently could keep him from breaking down into unproductive crying fits but this...whatever this was apparently didn't register as "upset" enough in his brain that it opted for tossing the emotions out to be swallowed up by the comforting sensations so they didn't effect him.

"But no, no, that's not-...! I'm derailing myself, don't listen to me! No. I meant to say...I was trying to say that...when we found you again...I started worryin' that once we found Nico, you wouldn't stick around anymore, 'cause Needle-Noggin was here. But I don't want you to go. Even if you didn't love me back, that was ok. I...I wanted it to be us, all of us, and I'd just be your friend if nothin' else. And then findin' out that you guys had found your mom again...I doubt she'd be real fond of me, I'm not the type of person you 'take home to mom,' but I was willing to try.

And then...and then it turned out I couldn't go with you. And at first it was painful enough, thinkin' about never seein' Needle-Noggin again, but we still had to find Nico...until I started gettin' into my head again, and...and I realized...I realized it meant losin' both of you, and...my chest just started hurtin' and I couldn't breathe. It's never happened before, not quite like that, except that it...felt kinda like what happened in December. But also not really? I don't know. I guess I panicked, yeah." He pulled his hand away from his face to stare at the ceiling. It was easier to talk that way, as if the words he needed were floating up above his head. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I didn't intend to hurt the kid. I'm not gonna lie, at first...when I first saw 'im, I was damn spooked enough that I almost wanted to. But I wasn't seein' him, I was seein' the one that sent me after you. But I couldn't do it. He's just a kid, he hasn't done any of that. He's not responsible for what happened to us. And it would have stayed that way, except...when I got in your head, I saw...I saw 'em hurtin' you, the way they hurt me. It was the same lab, I heard the same fuckin' quack doctor who cut me up an' pumped me full of fuckin' chemicals, and I heard your brother, and...knowin' that they did the same things to you. I never wanted anyone to go through that, but to know they did it to you...! I didn't wanna hurt the kid, I wanted to hurt Millions Knives. Nai was just the body nearest to me when I came to."

He seemed to wilt, his mind honestly still reeling from what he'd learned that morning, and even from the horror of knowing Vash had been experimented on, though that particular horror had at least started to settle somewhat in the days since they were in December.

"And now...knowin' you two had a sister they did that to? Fuck, Vash. It's all just been one long fuckin' cycle of nightmares and horror and pain. You an' your siblings were just the first victims, Knives just broke worse, or...differently than you did. I've seen what can happen when you fuck up a kid that young. There were so many kids at the orphanage who went through some really awful shit. I don't ever wanna add to that, not even with Nai."

He sighed again, finally looking back down from the ceiling, his head hanging low.

"Which...is why I understand if I can't be around, anymore. Even as much as it hurt, takin' care of him an' makin' sure he can heal from what he's been through is more important than what I want, right? Im...I'm not gonna be around much longer, anyway, not compared to you an' your siblings. I don't know what to do to make it better, I really don't. So when you said we couldn't be together, what right did I have to argue?"

Edited 2023-08-11 21:41 (UTC)

You panicked, Wolfwood, says the other Vash, and the relief that washes through him is a real and solid thing. Wolfwood wasn't dying? He was just stressed and scared? That's horrible, that's so horrible... but not as horrible as dying. They can work with stressed and scared! Who isn't stressed and scared, these days?

Nai sure is. The other Vash seems certain that Nai would be forgiving if given the chance, and while Vash agrees that it'd be good for Nai to learn about human fallability and forgiveness... he's not sure that making a child have to confront the man that threatened him is the right way to do it. Would it be fair to Nai, to ask that of him?

Would Nai lie, and accept Wolfwood's presence to make Vash happy, even if he was still frightened of the man? He'd already refused to talk about whatever had happened between him and Wolfwood once Vash had admitted to his feelings for the man. How can he ask Nai to put his own fears and feelings aside, for Vash's sake?

But then Wolfwood drops the bomb that his premature aging is still ongoing, that he has only, maybe, twenty more years left, and even the confession that he's got feelings for the other Vash too isn't enough to stop the tears that at this point Vash is certain he's just going to cry forever. Not even the thought of Tessla – and here Vash reached out mentally to the other Vash, a ray of light in all this grief, tessla, joy and good news, do you know? – was enough to stop him from worrying. Only twenty years. Human lives are already unfairly short, but twenty years? That's nothing! That's no time at all!

He shakes his head when Wolfwood brings up Bill Conrad – no, please, a few days of examination of his gate's powers was nothing compared to what had been done to Tessla! To Wolfwood! It wasn't the same at all! ...But maybe it felt that way to Wolfwood? And if it had really been Conrad who'd been responsible for what was done to Wolfwood, then forcing the memory on him of those days before July was destroyed, making him see Conrad again... it was simply unacceptable.

Wolfwood might be trustworthy around Nai, but could Vash be trusted with Wolfwood's safety? He'd been overwhelmed, that's what the other Vash had said. He hadn't been able to control himself, and he'd overwhelmed Wolfwood to the point where Nai had been in danger.

Really, the one who should stay away from everybody was Vash.

“You should go find Nico.” It's the best course of action for them all, he thinks, forcing down the knot in his throat and willing his voice even. He takes Wolfwood's hand in one of his, and reaches for the other Vash's with the other. They'd been traveling together for years at this point, haven't they? Much longer than the handful of months that he and Wolfwood had. It's only right that they stay together, and find the one who's missing. “Together.”

Wolfwood shouldn't be around Nai, and Vash shouldn't be around Wolfwood. This was the best solution, wasn't it? This way nobody would be alone. He turns to the other Vash, determined – yes, he would love it if Wolfwood could come back with him, if he could introduce Wolfwood to Rem, if they could make a life for themselves here... but his happy ending doesn't get to come at the cost of the other Vash's. Nico needs to be found first – he needs to be the priority. “Find Nico first, then....”

His smile, when he turns back to Wolfwood, is radiant. "Then I want you to come meet Rem."

Edited 2023-08-12 16:14 (UTC)

No, not years. Wolfwood and Nico had spent two years, more or less, looking for him, and he had been with them for much shorter. Months, and not that many of them, though the time in this world added a little to that.

Vash gave the other him a slightly confused look. Tessla? Joy? He could not really conceive of what that combination could mean, but he was interested, of course he was.

But it did not distract him enough for him to fail to catch Vash's hand before it moved away from putting together his and Wolfwood's, with his other hand. Keeping it close. Keeping him close.

As to Nai... he wasn't expecting that their brother would forgive easily, or quickly. Which was why he said that Wolfwood might not be able to stay close to him long, at first. But, with time, with evidence that Wolfwood was not a threat to him or to Vashes, it might work. But he was certain, too, that as soon as a Vash's safety was compromised, any such hope would be gone. And that included causing Vash grief on purpose. Which... Vash thought was unlikely to happen.

He breathed out, slowly. "I can't think of going back to JuLai, not right now." Not today, but that smile was far too brilliant to cut it short, however forced it might be. "But yes, that sounds more or less... a reasonable way to go about it. And we stay in touch. But either way, we two have some people to find, and it would make no sense whatsoever to look for them each alone. And we'll see how things work, after that." He squeezed both their hands. "Not alone."

His eyes turned to Wolfwood, thoughtful, though he suspected that the man's attention would be mostly on the other him.

"You know. I would not think any kind of experiments are a good idea. But Rem," his voice only shook a little at saying her name, "is a scientist, and she might be able to figure out some way to slow that metabolism. Or at least, perhaps, come up with options."

He had been reminding Wolfwood to not give up hope.

And he was going to keep reminding him that, as long as he was able to.

There were downsides, to pouring out what he had been keeping inside. Vash could see the other Vash's pain. Knew his own. And the prospective outlined in those hard-shared words. But there were upsides, too. Such as recognizing what the problem was, and considering at least the possibility of solutions.

He was. Not going to allow himself to face the clarification of love that Wolfwood was giving. Not yet. But his eyes were soft and open when he looked him in a way that was not a rejection. And, in their minds. Will you be all right, waiting a bit without him?

Another one of the downsides to pouring out so many things he'd been keeping held tight in his chest for so long was that afterward, he felt as if all of the energy had been sapped out of him. And watching the pain settle on Vash's face, when he finally let them in on the burden that had been hanging over his head every time he remembered how little time he would ever have, only made it worse. The last thing he'd ever wanted was to be one more memory of a dead loved one to weigh him - them - down. It was, truth be told, part of the reason he had run off to December on his own in the first place.

Better to die where he wouldn't make him watch it happen and may not even know it had happened at all, he'd reasoned at the time, than to make him go through that and cause him so much pain.

And it had all blown up so magnificently in his face. In the end, it seemed nothing he did was going to keep him from causing them some kind of suffering. He didn't know how to handle that, but at this point, all he could do was leave it in their hands. It was up to them to decide what to do with him and the knowledge that he was just going to hurt them, regardless of what any of them wanted.

So when Needle-Noggin took their hands and held them together, reinforced that they needed to stick together and then made it sound like...like maybe he wasn't outright pushing him out of his life completely, he felt such a wave of relief that he dropped forward until his head was resting on his shoulder, as if all of the energy had left him, lifting both of their hands and holding them against his chest like a pair of lifelines. And now, after everything he'd said, words felt too hard, like too much work.

Did this mean he wasn't kicking him out of his life? Did he want him to stay? Or was he reading too much into it, was Vash, as one particulary nasty little voice in the back of his mind whispered at him in the silence, telling him what he thought would comfort Nicholas, trying to be kind in that way he always did because he knew he was hurting and afraid? When he really thought about it, he hoped it wasn't the latter, but less out of a hope that he really was being given a chance and more because he hoped Vash could be kind enough to himself not to do that. Wolfwood wasn't that kind of self-flagellation.

But then Blondie was addressing another of the massive monkey wrenches that had been tossed into everything, and Wolfwood grimaced where his forehead was pressed into Vash's shoulder and turned his head to press his cheek there instead so that he could cast a sympathetic look over at him, too.

"She really did get settled in the worst possible place." He had been far too young when July had been destroyed to have been really effected by the aftermath, and he had been too unwell and recovering in the days following JuLai, when Meryl and Nico had stumbled on him where they'd left his little camp the night before, so the only things he'd really been aware of at first were the murmurings of search and rescue attempts by emergency crews on the radio, the two of them trying to make sense of his mere existence, and the way they'd tried to process what they'd seen in quiet, whispered words when they thought he couldn't hear them.

At first, Nico hadn't even wanted to help him at all, and honestly he didn't blame him one little bit. He'd heard them arguing when they thought he was sleeping, had heard the way losing Vash and knowing he'd tried to make sure Nick was ok and could be found again before they left for JuLai had made the idea of abandoning him to the elements something that was only suggested in furiously-shouting whispers before it was dismissed entirely. JuLai had been hard for them, and even harder for Vash, a horrible shadow over them that none of them seemed to have been able to shake off, though none of them ever fully went into the things that had happened, and he understood. So the thought that their mom had unintentionally set up house on the ruins of one of the worst events in their lives, one of the things he knew they blamed themselves fully for regardless of where the blame actually lie? Inviting them there to be a happy family was a monumental ask.

"Maybe we can find a safe place for you two t'meet up, when you're ready. Wait 'til one of the other cities gets up and runnin' and then...Iunno. Make a vacation out've it. How did New Miami fair in the whole thing, anyone know?" His voice was tired, barely more than a whisper, though he was at least able to put a little humor into his tone. It didn't last long, though, not when Blondie talked about how many people they needed to find, and he held onto their hands a little tighter, like the feeling of their hands tucked against his chest somehow helped to alleviate the ache that was still thrumming there after his panic attack.

"No. Not alone." His voice had dropped again, almost whispering, and there was a distinct tone that sounded a bit like he might not mean it the way Blondie had. "I meant what I said, about promising to find the Vash who buried the man in December. I can't leave 'im alone out there. Even if...even if he's...gone. One way or another, I'll take 'im home to Rem, or...lay 'im next to that grave in December. 'Nless you guys think he'd want somethin' different?" His eyes focused dimly for a moment on Blondie, thoughtful and sad.

They'd never talked about it, but he'd known; Vash had been planning on dying when he faced his brother. He'd never said it outright, but it had been obvious in little things he'd done and said, here and there, like thanking a couple of small-time criminals he'd rescued for sharing a drink with him, 'one last time,' as if he'd been slowly saying his good-byes to the world he loved so much a little at a time. Now, he would probably never know if that man had gotten his wish. His heart was feeling a whole kaleidoscope of feelings about it, dulled though they were with Blondie's calming presence. He wished he could say good bye properly, if he was gone, visit his grave and make peace with what he'd done. He wanted to help the man here, either to find his way home or to lay him to rest next to his partner, unsure whether the two desires were just a way of using the guilt from one to make up for the guilt of the other, or find his own closure.

He wanted to keep these two with him for the rest of the time he'd been given, wanted to protect them from himself, wanted to find Nico, find the kid they'd helped in the desert, the man Needle-Noggin had met, protect them all, keep them safe, at least do what he could to help give them the future they all deserved in the time he had left, so that maybe his end could be at the end of a life that had given them enough good things that they might help balance out the debt he carried from all the bad. And the list of things he needed to do kept growing, the longer they spent in this new reality, so that he felt pulled in a dozen different directions and wasn't sure where to even start. But...Nico had been the first one the list, so it only made sense to start there, and they were already outside Octovern, anyway.

And yet, if there were one thing that was able to pull his mind out of the dazed spiral of cognitive overload he was feeling, it was the thought of being put under the microscope again. He visibly tensed, his shoulders hitching up around his ears before the logical part of him caught ahold of the instinctive fear he felt about going under the knife. Neither of them would ever try and put him in that situation, he knew that. When Blondie talked about his mom looking for a way to help, it wasn't with the thought of straps restraining him to the bed, needles and wires and more drugs pumping through his veins than blood, burning and seering and driving him out of his fucking mind...!

He knew them better than that, trusted them enough to know that they would know him better than that, and that it would not be what they wanted for him.

So he forced himself to relax, forced his breathing to slow down again after it had threatened even through the soothing aura to shift into overdrive, and gave him a small, apologetic smile.

"I...It's...not gonna be easy for me. To make myself sit for...whatever she'd wanna do. I don't do good in...hospitals. Almost flipped my fuckin' lid the last time I woke up in one. Even knowin' it was run by Needle-Noggin's family on that ship didn't make it much easier." He sighed, turning his head to hide his eyes against Vash's neck, trying to make himself be comfortable with that particular memory. It was damn hard, and he didn't think he was very successful in the long run. "I...If you think it'd help, though...I know you wouldn't let it be like it was before...I need a little bit to...think about it. I want to..." If only for their sake. He shrugged. "I just...heh...you thought I panicked here...it'll be hard."

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?

In and around Octovern -- later

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...This post is probably going to be two-tags long Jesus Horatio Christo!

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