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In the short time he had been traveling with Vash, Wolfwood had picked up some critical information about the man. He was prone to trouble and injury, but that didn’t really come as a surprise. A nickname like ‘Humanoid Typhoon’ didn’t just happen, and he’d been briefed on Vash’s behavior patterns when he’d received his contract from the Eye of Michael. Vash’s moods and emotional state were strange, though.
Wolfwood had not spent much time in the presence of Millions Knives, but from what he understood their ‘angel’ didn’t respond to much besides anger. Children were killed and ruined in their headquarters, and it was considered commonplace. They were supposed to be twins, so Wolfwood had assumed that while Vash wasn’t the murderous enigma that his brother had become, the lack of contact with human emotion would be similar.
It was not. Vash was sad - profoundly so. Even when things were going well and the group was getting along, Vash’s smile never quite erased the melancholy in his eyes.
Wolfwood was familiar with masks. He wore his own and had seen false emotion on the faces of everyone from young children hiding grief to grown men carefully concealing the rot inside their minds and hearts. Vash’s smile wasn’t like that - it wasn’t disguising the sorrow beneath or attempting to cover it up. It was more like Vash was allowing himself something he shouldn’t indulge in, and his embarrassment about it kept him from fully letting happiness take him over. He kept joy on a leash that never loosened. He was permitted only a certain amount.
It was hard to watch, but not nearly as difficult as when things weren’t going well. Vash wore his anguish facing the world, and Wolfwood didn’t know how to deal with that. He was frankly surprised that he even felt the need to deal with it. His rough brand of caring was hard to come by, but despite his best efforts to keep Vash out of the circle of things he wanted to protect, the idiot had found his way in.
Which brought them to this moment.
They’d turned out the light about fifteen minutes ago. Wolfwood laid on his shitty mattress, eyes trained on the darkened ceiling. And Vash was crying. Tiny, restrained sobs that he was trying to keep quiet, but were obvious in their quiet shared space.
And what was he supposed to do? He should ignore it; of course he should. Any comfort he had to offer wouldn’t be enough, even if he did know what to say.
But Vash sounded heartbroken, and Wolfwood might not be perfectly human anymore, but he couldn’t pretend he didn’t feel desperate to do something about it. A sour, squirming feeling in his stomach opened wider with every passing moment in the dark, until he couldn’t let it be any longer.
“I didn’t want to kill him, Vash.” He didn’t know how else to begin, “Rollo was gone; you know that.”
Across the room, the dark shape of Vash’s arms moved to cover his eyes. “I know. I’m sorry… I know.”
Wolfwood sighed and shifted to lay on his side and look at Vash, “We could do something for him.” He suggested awkwardly, “If it’ll help you feel better about it. The body’s buried, but I know you took a piece of the armor. We could go back to the town and take that part home. Light some candles. Say some words.”
Vash didn’t respond right away. He was keeping a tight grip on his tears, but Wolfwood could still hear the frantic hiccups of someone who just couldn’t stop.
“I wanted to do something for him as a person, not a corpse.” Vash finally bit out, “It’s useless. He’s gone. All of it won’t change a thing, and any of that would be for me, not for him.”
“And what’s wrong with that?” Wolfwood asked, “Funerals have always been for those left behind. You’re allowed to mourn.”
Vash shook his head, “No, I’m not. If I wanted to feel better, I should have saved him.”
Holy fuck, he was in over his head. Wolfwood sat up and rested his elbows on his knees, searching for the right words. The green glow of worm migrations outside cast long shadows into the room, and his weapon against the window sent a tall, dark cross through the center of the room.
“Vash…” God, this was a bad idea, “Has anybody ever taught you how to pray?”
The sounds of Vash’s misery paused momentarily as he took his companion by surprise, “Um. Not really? I learned about religion of course, but we didn’t practice. I’ve seen people pray.”
Wolfwood swallowed and decided to commit. At the very least, he could hopefully distract Vash.
“At the orphanage, we learned that when you feel guilty you have to confess.” He explained, “I am technically ordained, so I could teach you if you want. Is that… Is that what you’re feeling? Guilt?”
Vash’s voice broke around his answer, “Yes.”
“Right.” Wolfwood cleared his throat, “Do you want to try?”
Another long pause before Vash responded, “Yeah… I’ll try.”
Wolfwood straightened his spine and crossed his legs on the bed. He had never once taken Legato’s lessons seriously, but he was pretty sure he could make this convincing. “Alright. It’s traditional to kneel. Do you want to kneel by my bed?”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.” Wolfwood snapped back, “You don’t have to.”
But across from him, Vash shuffled out of his blankets and lowered himself to the floor. Wolfwood frowned as he realized that it was hardwood down there, and he tugged a pillow out from behind him, “Put this under you.”
Vash took it hesitantly, “Is it supposed to be comfortable? Maybe it would work better if…”
“Just put the pillow under your knees, Spikey.” Wolfwood cut him off, “It’s not that serious, Christ.”
Vash giggled and did as he was told, “I’m not sure you should curse like that when you’re acting in an official capacity.”
Wolfwood rolled his eyes, but he felt an undeniable elation as he heard Vash laugh. “Alright. Let’s get started.”
The dark seemed to press in around them as Vash knelt beside him. There was something big threatening to open up in Wolfwood’s chest as the situation became undeniably intimate. Now that he was beside Wolfwood’s bed, he could see Vash’s eyes, which he had closed after getting himself positioned correctly. His expression was relaxed and expectant, waiting for Wolfwood to make him feel better. To absolve him. If Wolfwood thought about that vulnerability for too long he didn’t know what he might do. Something stupid.
“The first step is to examine your conscience.” Wolfwood explained, “I think you’ve already done that, but take a second to identify exactly what you feel guilty about. Tell me when you’re ready.”
Vash knelt there in silent contemplation for at least a minute before he said softly, “Okay. Ready.”
“Make the sign of the cross.” Wolfwood demonstrated on himself, “Then say ‘Bless me Father, for I have sinned.’ Then tell me how long it’s been since your last confession.”
Vash copied Wolfwood, then repeated, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been… Well, I’ve never confessed before.”
Wolfwood nodded, “Good. Now tell me… well, we always called them sins. If you’re following the script, you should say, ‘These are my sins…’ and then list them. But if you want, you can just say what you feel bad about.”
“These are my sins.” Vash bowed his head and closed his eyes again, “I’ve made promises I did not keep. I’ve hurt people. I’ve been a bad brother and a terrible son.”
Wolfwood pressed his lips together into a thin line as he listened. It was hard not to interrupt, especially as the list became longer.
“I’ve killed people and lied.” The tears were back now, shining dimly in the green light from the window, “I’ve taken advantage of others. I’ve wasted their love and disappointed them.”
Vash went on, circling and circling around the guilt that Wolfwood could now see defined him. When the list finally came to an end, Wolfwood took a deep breath and continued.
“Good. It’s my turn now to give you penance. As repentance, you will carry your piece of Rollo’s armor with you for the rest of our journey. You will light a candle for him and 10 more for the others you have… wronged. Repeat after me again.”
Vash copied his words back to him, his voice trembling around the words, “Lord God, in your goodness have mercy on me: do not look on my sins, but take away all my guilt. Create in me a clean heart and renew within me an upright spirit.”
That yawning feeling was back, nipping at Wolfwood’s tongue as the weight settled on them once again. How could he go on after this? How could he continue to lead Vash like a lamb to the slaughter after seeing him like this? It was impossible. It was necessary. It burned like acid inside him, and he wondered if he would find himself in Vash’s place on his knees beside a preacher someday, confessing his betrayal.
He was taking too long, and Vash was watching him expectantly. He thought it was over, and Vash shifted on his knees a little as he waited for instructions to get up.
But it wasn’t over, and Wolfwood resolved to finish this. He moved to the edge of the bed and guided Vash to face him.
He swallowed and placed both hands on either side of Vash’s face, “May God grant you pardon and peace. Your sins are heard and forgiven. I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”
It was too much for both of them, and Vash’s tears ran hot and fast against Wolfwood’s thumbs. They stayed like that until Wolfwood couldn’t take it any longer. He released Vash’s face and took a long, steadying breath.
“That’s… that’s the end. You can get up when you’re ready.”
Vash shifted on the floor and returned Wolfwood’s pillow. Without saying anything, he moved back to his own bed and crawled back beneath the blankets.
“Thank you, Wolfwood.” He said eventually, expression hidden by the darkness once again, “I think that I do feel better.”
“Don’t mention it.” Wolfwood laid down and turned his back to Vash, “It’s my job, right?”
Eventually, he heard Vash settle down and his breathing even out as he fell asleep. Rest escaped Wolfwood, as he suspected it would for the rest of the night. If he believed in God, Wolfwood would have prayed for guidance, but he knew well by now not to expect a reply.