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They leave in a somber cloud of guilt. Vash walks out with Milly and Meryl soothing him at his sides, assuring him it wasn’t his fault. All three of them tried to help as best they could before the fallen ship’s people turned on them as outsiders and heatedly asked for them to leave. Tears had hardly stopped flowing like waterfalls down Vash’s face, yet leave they did.
In a moment of quiet, Vash said, “Hey, has anyone seen Wolfwood?”
The insurance girls looked at each other then at their surroundings.
“Um,” Milly started, “we haven’t seen him for a while now, are you sure he wasn’t back with those people? Maybe he was still trying to help them send off their loved ones.”
“That preacher man? Ugh, he’d be more likely to be following that girl around like a charming lost puppy.” Meryl scowled as she spoke, readjusting her grip on Vash’s arm. “Knowing him, he’ll show up again eventually like nothing happened.”
Vash hummed in agreement, staring blankly at the sand ahead of them. He felt awful still. No matter where he goes or what he tries to do to save people, he always comes up short. His life was plagued by the inability to hold the peace, always trailing violence and leading it where it doesn’t belong. A frown settled upon his face, the last few tears making their slow trails down to his lips.
Vash’s negative internal monologue was thankfully cut short by the hollering of a familiar voice.
Wolfwood came into sight over the crest of a dune, the Punisher hefted behind him. Standing at the top as he was, he became a silhouette in front of the sun, beams of light cast down around him. Vash figured this must be what it looks like to see divine visions as a prophet.
This particular divine vision slid down the sand dune and hobbled to a graceless halt in front of the trio. He scanned them each quickly and whistled low.
“Looks like a whiskey night to me.”
* * * * * *
It was indeed a whiskey night for the lot of them.
Wolfwood, in his divine mercy, brought a couple bottles back up to his and Vash’s room, where everyone was gathered. He poured four shots and took a glass for himself.
“To those poor souls, may they rest in heaven,” Wolfwood said raising his glass, eyes shut. Milly and Meryl mumbled much the same and downed their shots. Vash looked far away, eyes unfocused and definitely not seeing the girls in their final moments before severe inebriation. Both took another shot, and Meryl slammed her glass down on the table.
Though her eyes roamed all their faces, she glared at Wolfwood in particular. “Today was a tragedy, but do you have to keep bringing it up? Have a little discretion, I don’t think that thick skull of yours can understand when it’s time to let things go.” She glanced meaningfully at Vash, who was starting to come back to them.
“Thanks little lady, but I think you’re making a mountain out of a mole hill. It’s my job as a man of god to pay respect to the spirits of those passed on.” Wolfwood returned her glare and internally wished for a miracle of silence.
Meryl scoffed at him. “Some man of god you are, what with your massive weapon of destruction and shady intentions.”
“Hey now, don’t be like that. It’s full of mercy, remember?” Wolfwood tossed a fake smile at her. She tore it to pieces with those angry eyes of hers.
She huffed and grabbed Milly by the wrist. “Come on Milly, let’s leave this idiot before I show him what real mercy is.” One last icy look and the women were wobbling out the door.
“Thanks for the drinks!” Milly called happily on their way out. Chipper as ever, that one, even in the face of the angriest insurance woman Gunsmoke had ever given rise to.
Wolfwood crossed the room and locked the door with a click. He looked at Vash now, regarding him one might an unfamiliar cat. He can usually predicts its moves and intentions, but right now the man before him was a mystery. Vash looked okay, but there was something off. Light eyes met his and seemed to pass through him, seeing and not seeing. Perhaps seeing much more than their physical realm.
“What’s floating around that spikey head of yours, blondie?” Wolfwood asked, digging his pack of smokes out of his pocket and lighting one. He took a drag as he waited for an answer.
Vash looked up at him. “I bring violence and death everywhere I go, Wolfwood.”
Wolfwood puffed smoke thoughtfully. “I can’t deny that, it’s been mostly consistent since we’ve known each other. Not your fault though, ‘s just the cards that were dealt to you.”
“That’s not enough! How am I supposed to live knowing that just by existing I will bring pain and suffering and death to those I meet?” Vash stood fast and his voice raised with each desperate word. Wolfwood looked away. He yelled once more, “How, Wolfwood?”
God, this is not the game he wanted to play today. “You just have to keep on living. Your life is worth just as much as anyone else’s, it’s about time you started acting like it and worrying less about a stranger’s skin and more about your own. You’ll get yourself killed if you keep being so damn selfless.”
“So what? Maybe that’d be better, one death in exchange for the hundreds more I’ll cause all across Noman’s Land,” he challenged, moving to the center of the room.
Wolfwood ground his teeth into the filter of his cigarette, curbing some of the impulse to pound some sense into the spikey idiot in front of him. “Outta the question. What about all those people you do save with the peace-and-love brain of yours? Helluva lotta folks out there have you to thank for seeing another day on this dustbowl. And before you say it’s your fault-”
“I only have to save them because it’s my fault they’re in danger to begin with! Well, most of them anyway, but it’s still on me to-”
“I would have a personal grievance with not having you around anymore.”
“...”
“...”
“What do you mean?” Wariness colored his voice, but at least he wasn’t shouting anymore thank god.
Wolfwood knew he had dug himself deeper than he could climb out of, but the words had already left his traitorous mouth. “Ah, y’know, I’ve gotten awful used to your company. Wouldn’t be the same without those hedgehog spikes flitting around town causing mischief and mayhem.”
He could see Vash mouthing the words “hedgehog spikes” to himself and patting his hair defensively, but his anger and distress seemed to have deflated significantly.
“It’s been a long day spikey, what say you we have another drink and turn in, hm?” He took the liberty of pouring another set of shots for them both, passing one off to Vash.
Vash took the drink and looked to Wolfwood. He put on an abashed grin and slapped a hand to the back of his neck and laughed. “It has been an awfully long day hasn’t it? Hahaha you’re right, let’s forget all this and hit the hay for a whole new day tomorrow.” He quickly clinked their glasses together and swallowed the whiskey in one move, setting the glass on the table and all but dove into his bed. Wolfwood shook his head exasperated and followed suit.
They had separate beds tonight, which was good news for Wolfwood since it meant no kicking and sprawling limbs from an active sleeper such as Vash. They’d had to share on slim occasion when they couldn’t get a double room, and neither wanted the other to sleep on the floor so they would end up sharing. Come morning, it always felt like a mistake to Wolfwood and his bruised legs and body. He never learned though.
Wolfwood settled in to sleep and felt nothing but grateful as he drifted off to silence and the soft sounds of Vash’s breathing.
* * * * * *
A noise woke Wolfwood.
It was still dark in the room, meaning it was some unholy hour of the morning. He struggled to wake up enough to listen for whatever woke him in the first place.
After a few moments, he heard it again. Vash was talking in his sleep.
He sighed and prepared to roll over and ignore Vash’s mumblings, but the next thing he heard made his stomach drop.
Vash was crying out, perhaps through tears, begging for whoever to stop, stop, stop, and please take me instead they don’t deserve this, I’m sorry I’m sorryI’msorryI’msorry-
No way could Wolfwood let that slide. He was out of bed in a blink and rushed to Vash’s side, leaning slightly over him and reaching out.
“Hey, hey, you’re okay needle-noggin,” he said, gently holding his shoulder and trying to rouse him out of whatever nightmare he was living in.
Vash thrashed hard and cried out again, nearly screaming “no!” and repeating the same string of apologies and pleas as before. Putting a knee on the bed, Wolfwood reached out again and shook harder.
“Vash, come on back to me, you’re okay.” It’s hard not to panic with the anxiety pooling in his stomach and tamping down the desperation to just slap the man awake. Instead, he put a hand to Vash’s cheek, brushing away a stray tear and shakes his shoulder again. He leans a little closer and says, “I’ve got you, now wake up blondie.”
Mercifully, his crying and vocal pleas cease. He shuddered once and finally opened his eyes to see Wolfwood staring at him less than a foot from his face. A big sigh escaped his lips and a sad smile appeared.
“Sorry about that,” he whispered, voice hoarse and meek.
“Nah, no need, I don’t like getting more than three consecutive hours of sleep anyway, makes me too comfortable with my surroundings,” he said, tone light and nonchalant.
Vash laughed and sat up slowly, and Wolfwood let his hand slip from his shoulder, but kept the other on his face, gently thumbing his cheekbone, soft and wet from tears. He slid it around to the back of his neck instead and gave a little squeeze and scratched gently at his hair. Vash leaned forward and let his head drop onto Wolfwood’s shoulder. Wolfwood’s stomach practiced acrobatics at that.
Time slowed, and after a few long minutes of breathing each other in, Wolfwood tentatively asked “How do you feel?”
Vash hummed in thought. “That feels nice,” is what he chose to say, barely above a whisper.
Wolfwood had started combing his fingers through blond hair, gently pulling apart any tangles and soothing him simultaneously.
“Not exactly what I meant, but good. You deserve it.” He meant it too. Vash, of all people, deserved to feel something nice and comforting for once.
He felt Vash press closer, though his hands didn’t reach out despite all the signs he wanted to be near in this moment. Gently, Wolfwood took Vash’s hand and pulled it towards him, encouraging him to hold close, which he hesitantly did. His arms wrapped around Wolfwood and his face burrowed into his neck with such force Wolfwood worried for a moment it might bruise. Even that great pressure couldn’t stop the flow of tears which erupted anew, and for a completely different reason than before. Wolfwood let him sob into the crook of his neck, whispering his support, I’ve got you, it’s okay, get it all out, I’m here, and stroking up and down his back and holding fast, readjusting their positions so their bodies fit together more easily. Eventually he pressed his nose into Vash’s hair and stayed there, breathing him in.
Vash looked up at him when he’s ready. Wolfwood gave him an encouraging small smile and tilt of the head.
“Um, well, as you know, I can’t help still feeling responsible for what happened on the Project Seeds ship, and to Brad specifically.” His eyes water something fierce but he continues. “If I hadn’t gone there, knowing the target on my back is only growing recently, or if I had been quicker, or visited more often, or-” His voice broke and a sob escaped as if from his shattered heart. “They didn’t have to die. Brad didn’t have to take those bullets for me, I could’ve dodged faster than he could see or at least I would probably be able to heal from the wounds... but Brad, he-he just did that without thinking and I can’t bear this weight of life taken on my accord.” He’s fully sobbing by the end, and Wolfwood gets it. That is some seriously rough shit.
Wolfwood took Vash’s right hand between both of his own and squeezed gently. “I hear you, I do, and that’s some real shit, Vash. There’s an endless number of ‘woulda-coulda-shouldas’ out there. You have to remember you did the best you could in the moment, and you can only do the same goin’ forward. Brad’s choice to block you was his own, he’s a lot like you in that way. Stupidly selfless.” Wolfwood smiled. “And you always will be.”
Somehow Vash was looking at him with the biggest, roundest, wettest eyes Wolfwood had ever seen. It would be comical if it wasn’t so terrifying in the moment.
“Woah, spikey, are your eyes about to pop or somethin’?! Did I say somethin’ wrong?” He’s frantically searching for any sign of anything, but Vash just lets the tears fall and smiles. No body-wracking sobs this time, just a few wet sniffles.
“That was beautiful, Wolfwood,” is what he says, completely shocking Wolfwood. His jaw might have actually dropped. “And no, you didn’t say anything wrong! You just have such a way with words, I never knew.” He laughed and quirked his head in that funny way he does when he scrunches up his eyes with laughter. “You have a good point I guess... I will always keep doing my best to keep the peace and save people, but maybe I have to accept the risk I bring along with me.”
Wolfwood huffs. “Yeah, sounds about right to me.” At Vash’s prolonged eye contact, he softens and says quieter, “You’ll be just fine.”
Once more they lean back into each other. A steadfast embrace. They remain like that for what seems like hours, but somewhere along the way sleep had slipped its fingers over their eyes. When he woke to sunlight streaming through the window, casting a radiant glow on blond hair, Wolfwood thought to himself that bruised shins were an easy price to pay for a man like Vash, one that he would gladly pay a thousand times over, not regretting a single time.