fourstrings | i knew this would happen, still hard to believe it

i knew this would happen, still hard to believe it

[ At this point he’s said you’ll be the death of me to Vash on multiple occasions. Every time a violent situation would be easily solved by lasering someone’s head off, for example. Or when Vash figured out how he was coming up with the money for inns and hotels and tried to argue that it wasn’t fair to use his skills to fleece people, still pouting about it when Wolfwood pointed out stopping would mean no more actual beds, no bathtubs, and zero donuts. When they figured out that making Vash come via his dick meant he was still raring to go by other means, that was a good one.

He’d say it now, if he was well enough. Told you you’d be the death of me. It’s probably a good thing he got hurt so bad he can’t speak, because Vash wouldn’t think it was funny.

Truthfully, he wouldn’t want Vash to blame himself anyway, even if there’s no way in hell he would have put himself between someone else and a bullet without Vash’s influence. And it was fucking stupid! It’d be one thing if it was Vash, or a kid, or like… a really hot woman. But the person Nicholas D. Wolfwood, The Punisher, tackled out of the way and took a bullet for was an old man. Probably only got ten or fifteen good years left in him anyway, but the guy had given them a place to stay and made sure they were fed and introduced them to his family, and all Wolfwood could think of when he saw the bandit firing at him was his damn grandkids, and the way Vash would sink into that pattern of thinking he ruins everything he lets close again. How the fuck was he supposed to know the first bullet would hit the damn pocket he keeps his vials in? He’d even arranged a drop in the next town over, but he can’t tell Vash that because the second bullet had hit him right in the throat. Long term treatment like he got is designed to keep you on your feet long enough to get a dose to heal you up, but in this case all it’s gonna do is make sure he dies slow.

He'd thought about this moment, when he was feeling especially maudlin. How he’d kiss Vash gently and tell him that he gets to die a better man than he was, because of Vash. But he can’t speak, can’t move his limbs to raise a hand to Vash’s face. All he can do is gurgle and bleed and hurt. He’d almost forgotten how much it hurts and for how long when you can’t patch it up right away.

Turns out, though, that there’s one more thing he can do. And as his vision fills with blotches of red and black, he does it, and passes right the fuck out. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ that’s good. like this, vash can wrap his arms around wolfwood and pretend it’ll be enough to keep him safe, leech comfort from the other man’s weight and warmth. smoothing a hand down wolfwood’s back, just appreciating that he’s still able to touch a wolfwood who’s warm and alive.

but that last bit makes him huff out a little laugh, leaning forward to press a kiss against wolfwood’s forehead. ]

You tell me all the time. [ which isn’t a complaint — vash can never get enough! ] It’s not like you let me doubt it.

Yeah, but -

[ He laughs, and it's quiet, but genuine. ]

No impossible promises, so I'm not promising. But I wanna stick around and do what I can to help make a world where the last time I tell you I love you is when I'm a crusty old man getting taken out by Father Time, not an idiot with a gun. That'd be my ideal.

[ there’s still a touch of bittersweet in the smile, but it’s a real one. it’ll still mean losing wolfwood, being asked to keep going despite his absence, but. it’ll also mean being there to see him live a long, full (and hopefully happy) life, which is still a gift worth appreciating.

vash reaches up to cup wolfwood’s face in his hands, thumbs stroking affectionately over his cheekbones. ] I’d like to see that, too. I bet you’ll still look good with wrinkles.

Bet your ass I will.

[ He smiles, nuzzled slightly into the cup of Vash's hands before he breaks that gentle hold to press a soft, lingering kiss against his lips.

This is nice.

Time to ruin it. ]

That's why I can't leave or let you go. [ It's... hard to think of a way to say this without sounding like the kind of person who tries to guilt someone into staying by theatening to kill themselves. That's not it, not at all, but it cuts so close it's almost unbearable. ] If you decide you're through with me I'll respect your wishes, but I'll still follow you. The only thing I hate more than the idea of not having more time with you is the thought of you thinking my blood is on your hands.

[ the kiss is nice! it doesn’t soften what comes next, but vash still appreciates it for what it is.

but the smile falters. his hands drop from wolfwood’s face to his shoulders, breaking off eye contact and chewing at the inside of his lip. ]

… I know. [ it comes out sounding miserable. ] The people who sent you after me… they wouldn’t give you this much free reign unless they thought they have you on a pretty good leash, right? I thought, at first, maybe you were just loyal, but… [ he rubs absently at his temple with the heel of his hand, trying to soothe the threatening headache there. ] After what happened on the sand steamer, things made more sense.

[ that person, livio, was someone wolfwood wanted to protect. but based on the way he’d been able to turn on a gun on him, he isn’t the only one. ]

I'm not gonna have all the answers. You don't tell a weapon how it's made. All you need it to do is fire.

[ He sighs. ]

Maybe I should get out of your lap. If you need to ... I dunno, get up and walk around, you should be able to. But I think you need to hear this. I think I need to tell you.

[ if it’s worse than what he’s guessed already, there’s a pretty big part of vash that doesn’t want to hear it at all. but… he always knew that there was a time limit on both of them having the luxury of playing dumb, just like he knows that time is up. ]

… if it’s okay, I like holding you? [ voice tipping up into a question at the end, trying to put the choice in wolfwood’s hands. vash drops his hands to the other man’s hips, gives them a little squeeze. ] But if you need some space, I don’t mind. I get it.

[ He should get off. It feels too much like he's caging Vash in, witholding yet another choice from him. But he wants it, and if Vash says he wants it too...

he'll be selfish just a little longer. ]

When you asked my why I killed Rollo, I said it was for mercy. I know that didn't sit well with you, but I meant it. Same reason I shot at Livio on the sand steamer. They're the same. From the same place, been through the same things to make them the way they were.

The same place as me.

[ This is the hardest part. It's going to make Vash feel bad for him, take his focus off what it needs to be on; not the fact that Wolfwood had his childhood ripped away so he could be reforged into a weapon, but the fact that there's still a chance that weapon could be pointed at Vash. ]

You've figured at least a little about the Eye of Michael, if you could get the drugs. How much do you know?

[ it's not exactly a surprise. if anything, vash has been purposefully trying not to put the pieces together; they've been floating in proximity to one another, like meteorites clustering around the same star. it... doesn't mean he likes hearing it, but.

he frowns a little, looking off to the side. ] They're a... cult of plant-worshippers that operate out of July. I've heard some of the sermons. [ two angels, one of salvation and one of destruction. mankind is being punished for its misdeeds by having the angel of destruction live amongst them, but one day there will be a reconciliation. and once the two angels are united again, they'll form the bridge that will lead humanity to its salvation.

it's... not hard to see where it comes from, and vash always tries to avoid listening when he can. it makes him too lonely to think about it, too heartsick.

but that's probably not at the center of wolfwood's focus, so he changes course a little. ] I know they're... doing something to people. You, Rollo, Livio, you're all -- [ another pause, and then he shakes his head. ] A normal human couldn't keep up. It's closer to --

[ there's... a long pause, after that one. it's the part of it that his brain keeps veering away from, that he's tried not to look at too closely. ignoring what was right in front of him, desperate to play dumb. ] ... I know it's got something to do with...

[ he doesn't say the name, trailing off and letting silence speak instead. ]

Knives.

[ It's clear Vash knows, and it'd probably be kinder to let him dance around it. But he's trying to be honest, cards on the table. So he says it, painfully aware that the little squeeze of apology he gives Vash is crashingly inadequate. ]

They worship him. Keep an army to serve him. They need people who are malleable, people they can indoctrinate and shape to their purposes. So they take children.

[ He knows this already. Somewhere, deep down, he has to know Rollo's town wasn't an outlier. Doesn't mean it doesn't ache to make him face it. ]

They use drugs. They make us stronger, but they also make us susceptible to all the other stuff. It's like... induced psychosis. Breaking the mind down to clay they can shape. Different people have different reactions. Some just die. Some end up completely different, physically, mentally, or both. It triggers physical growth, too. Adult bodies are better in a fight.

[ It's really not the time for a joke, but there's at least one thing he can reassure Vash about, so he smiles crookedly. ]

Judging by how old I was when they took me from Hopeland and how long I was in the field before I met you, I'm at least twenty. Some room inbetween for the treatments. So don't go getting knotted up about that.

[ it's... not a surprise, not after rollo. but it still breaks vash's heart with an almost audible snap.

sometimes, plenty of times, he thinks about it -- what it would take for he and nai to reconcile. what would vash have to give up? which of rem's ideals would he have to sacrifice? and what would nai give up for vash in return?

but their separation isn't a stagnant thing. his brother keeps taking steps away from him, past the part of anything vash can condone with his forgiveness, and it rips pieces out of him every time. (and it still hurts to know that nai feels the same, blames vash for being the one to sever the bond between them and keep the distance growing.)

he squeezes his eyes shut, hands tensing on wolfwood's hips. he won't let himself cry; he doesn't deserve to, not over this. it's his sin as much as knives; by running from him instead of confronting him, by being passive all these years, he made himself into a participant. besides, he and nai have always shared everything -- the same womb, the same first breaths, the same mirrored beauty mark on each of their faces. how could the blood on his brother's hands not stain vash's, too? ]

... it's the orphanage, isn't it? [ voice tight, low. wounded. ]

Not all of them.

[ It comes out with a strength that surprises even him. He doesn't know, not for sure, but he believes it. He was happy there. Sometimes it was hard, but he was happy. Why would they have given him that if there was no chance of any other life but this? ]

It's a good place. They take good care of the kids. They've gotta know, but... maybe it's a trade. Let them take a few likely candidates in exchange for the chance to provide a good life for the rest.

I don't hold it against them. We all have to make shitty choices. If letting the Eye make me into what I am meant they could feed and clothe twenty other kids instead of letting them rot in the desert, I can live with that.

[ It's harder to reconcile what happened to Livio. He wasn't chosen, after all. He followed, and they could have stopped him. He could have grown up, maybe healed the damage that fractured him before the Eye ever got their hands on him. Maybe he'd have gotten married one day, had kids Wolfwood could visit and play terrible uncle for.

But Livio was always soft, giving. Wolfwood can't say he wouldn't have rationalized it the same way he does: that his life isn't a bad trade for a whole lot of others. ]

[ he doesn't want to follow this line of thought to its logical conclusion, but they're already here. his voice sounds like it's being scraped over gravel, in no small part thanks to the stinging bile at the back of his throat. ]

... it's why you can't stop, right? Even if I asked you to stop following me, even if I begged.

You aren't afraid that they'll kill you. You're scared they'll take another --

[ he can't say it. it's too awful. ]

Yeah.

I'm... special. [ He laughs, but it's bitter. ] You saw it with Rollo and Livio. Not many of us keep a whole lot of our will. It makes me a liability, but it means I can do things the others can't. Blend in, pretend. I can be good at it, when I don't have my nose out of joint about being made to do it as punishment.

If I left, they might kill me. They might put me back in, see if they can break me this time around. But they'd want to replace me. I don't know how many kids they'd burn through, trying to replicate their results.

I won't risk it. Not even for you.

I won't ask you to.

[ it's quiet, low. he still has his head down, because he can't bear to make eye contact. ]

... if they ask you to do something, I want you to do it. I'll understand. I already do.

Okay. Okay.

[ He tries to mean it. He has to mean it. If he doesn't, what's the point of any of this? Trying to make sure they don't torture other children to replace him, trying to make sure Vash doesn't have to get blood on his hands?

His instructions were explicit. Keep Vash safe. And yeah, he has a sneaking suspicion that part of the plan is to throw enough death and destruction in his path that it wears him down, but that doesn't seem as cruel as the alternative. Pain that he can't avert with clever gunplay or inspiring the people around him, just because Wolfwood was selfish. So he clings to the hope that the plan will stay the same, and they'll never ask him to hurt Vash himself. He wants to tell Vash that - that it's probably alright, that Knives doesn't want him dead] - but that would be for himself. It's not what Vash needs to hear.

When he thought he was dying, all he wanted was to be able to tell Vash how much he means. To look him in those beautiful eyes one last time. Funny that now he's not dying, he can't ask for it. It feels like he's already asked for too much, burdening Vash with this. He sighs, shaky, drops his head onto Vash's shoulder instead. ]

I'm real damn sorry for all this. Thought it would be better if you know why I'd keep coming after you even if you try to leave. I'm glad I don't feel like I'm lying to you anymore, but fuck if this doesn't seem like it might be worse.

[ the urge to curl up into a ball until all of this goes away is real. ]

... you don't have to apologize to me. For anything.

[ and, if now's the time to put the whole awful truth on the table: ]

But... you should know. [ he still can't look at him. it'd be too awful to see the condemnation in wolfwood's eyes, even if it's what vash knows he deserves. ] ... The Fall.

[ hunching in on himself a little, stiff with tension. he has to force the words out, choked and halting. ] ... it was my fault. I was the one who gave Nai the access codes that let him cause the crash. [ he swallows, hard. ] And then when I -- Once I saw what --

[ he grits his teeth, hard enough for his jaw to ache in protest. ] I could've -- ... I should've tried to stop him. A long time ago.

[ he doesn't deserve to cry about this. he shouldn't be allowed to, but his body isn't listening. his shoulders hitch, and he reaches up to scrub away that first tear with the heel of his hand, bitterly angry with himself. ] Everything that's happened to you, all of it, it's my fault. Just as much as it is his.

[ and not just because of the access codes, not just because of the long years of not taking direct action against nai. most of all, there's the truth at the rotten core of the apple -- he's doing all of this for me. ]

Edited 2023-03-10 00:53 (UTC)

[ That makes sense.

Not it being Vash's fault - that's bullshit, obviously. It's hard to imagine a scenario in which Knives would have been open with his plans and Vash would have gone along with it. But it speaks volumes about why Vash does what he does, why he's so determined to try and save everyone. All the psychos and the greedy fuckers and the scum out there are people who might not have turned out the way they did, if things had been different. So Vash looks at his part in what happened and thinks it's his fault they're the way they are, and his duty to make it up to them. ]

Hn. I never understood why you were so hellbent on saving everyone.

[ Isn't it just the orphanage, blown up to the size of a planet? It's not Vash's fault that life here is hard any more than it would be Wolfwood's fault if he died or failed and the Eye started scooping up more and more kids to fill that gap, but that doesn't mean it doesn't feel that way. Doesn't mean he can stop trying to do what he can to balance the scales. Except instead of twenty lives, or fifty, or a hundred, it's... everyone. Every living human. The burden is... unimaginable. It makes sense that Vash wouldn't care about a couple of bullet wounds, with the pain he must be in every day believing all this is on his shoulders. Too much for Wolfwood to hope to relieve him of, even if he was a real priest. ]

I've never been so hurt by what's happened to me that I wished I was never born. Even before I met you. Even when I was in it. Maybe that's just 'cause I keep getting off easy. Kept my mind when others lost theirs, got given a special job insead of a slow death. The way I see it, all that means is I have to keep going. Can't undo the wrong I've done, but I can try to do better. I'm gonna keep going. And I'd like to keep going with you, instead of following you around like a stray you fed once.

There's not a lot in my life that I got to choose. So I'm not gonna let you take it from me when I tell you knowing this doesn't change my mind about you. I know your heart, and now I know your past, and nobody gets to choose what I think about it. Not even you.

[ it doesn't make sense. there's no way that anyone should hear that gunsmoke is the way it is because of vash, and then be able to forgive him for it. all the death, all the pain; every person that suffers because there isn't enough to go around, every plant forced to wither because they're forced to ask her for too much. children with their childhoods torn away from them, twisted into something monstrous by the cult that idolizes his brother.

it's too much. there's no absolution for this, no forgiveness. how could there ever be? ]

I don't get it. [ it comes out choked, thick with tears. he curls in on himself, head thumping against wolfwood's chest and hands coming up to grip at two fistfuls of his shirt. ] I don't know how you can --

You should hate me.

Maybe. Maybe I should sit down and try and work myself into a real snit about it. Picture some impossible life where everything was good and nobody hurt and human nature wouldn't come in and ruin all of that no matter where we landed. Maybe I should tell myself it doesn't matter that I keep seeing you try to save everyone, over and over, no matter how shitty they are, because you fucked up once and that's all you get.

[ He shrugs. It's awkward, when he's still trying to hold Vash, but he does his best. ]

Seems like a lot of effort to make up a version of my life that never existed just to decide you stole it from me and get mad about it.

You told me. I still love you. It is what it is.

[ all vash can manage is a little choked noise, fingers tightening even further around the fabric of wolfwood's shirt. it doesn't really seem like the kind of thing you should thank someone for, but it's a struggle not to say it regardless -- thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you.

when he breathes in, it sounds like he has to fight to do it, and when he exhales, it shudders.

but.

finally, finally, he makes himself sit up, enough to meet wolfwood's eyes again. ]

... there's one more thing you should know. [ a stupid wet sniffle. ] Then you've got everything.

[ Vash looks him in the eye, finally, and he looks so miserable that Wolfwood halfway wants to pull his head back down again just so he can wrap him up in his arms. Or kiss him, at least, just a little one for comfort. But this sounds like it's taking a lot to work up to, so he waits. Wouldn't do to seem like he was trying to derail things. ]

Hit me.

... I'm different from the other plants. [ he ducks his head a little; he knows it won't mean as much to wolfwood, but it's hard to duck that old, rooted sense of shame. ] They can all create things. I've... never been able to.

The only thing my power can do is destroy, and I can't even control it.

[ but that's... not the confession. not the thing he knows wolfwood won't want to hear. ]

... but, a long time ago, I figured out something I could do. To try to make up for what I did. [ inhale, exhale. ] You've already seen it. Sometimes, if I can get there fast enough, I can help the plants before they wither.

But I... [ he hesitates for a moment, and then: ] ... I can't make anything. So it means giving something away.

[ It takes him a second. The fuck does Vash have to give? His height and the coat will fool you, but under all of that he's skinny. Any skinnier and he'd be wasting away, he -

oh. ]

Vash.

[ Instantly, he wants to tell him to stop. Knows it's pointless, that they'd only fight about it. Knows Vash needs this, as much as Wolfwood hates the thought of it. It's the absolution Wolfwood can't give him; like people going to church and asking for penance to balance out their sins. On this planet, people depend on plants to live. Vash blames himself for people being on this planet, so he gives part of himself to the plants, keeps them running, keeps the people alive.

It's terrifying. It's beautiful. It's Vash, all over.

It's the first time since he learned what Vash is that he's considered that Vash might die first. That he might give too much of himself away, just wither up and die. Maybe not; he's been going for this long, who knows how much spare he's got in there. But it doesn't look like a lot. ]

I -

[ He what? Understands? Yeah, but he doesn't want to. Wishes he wouldn't? Pointless. He cups a hand at the side of Vash's face, strokes a thumb over his cheek. ]

Is it gonna kill you?

[ there. now it's all out in the open between them. no more secrets, no more hiding. and that, at least, feels better, even if this entire conversation was the emotional equivalent of someone taking to his insides with a belt sander. ]

I don't know.

[ which isn't a lie, even if probably might have been a little more honest. but he leans into that hand at his cheek, as desperate for the touch as ever, still unable to wrap his mind around the fact that he gets it after everything wolfwood has heard. ]

It used to be a lot easier. Healing them didn't even make me tired, back when I first started. It's... [ he hesitates, then: ] You saw what happened on the sand steamer. It's tough to even talk to them, these days.

[ there are other signs, too. the way his hair has gone steadily darker, the way his wounds seem to take longer and longer to heal. the fact that sometimes his food comes back up in a tarry, black ichor that always smells of rotting earth. but none of it seems like it's reached a critical point, so he mostly just pushes any worry about it down and away.

a crooked smile. ] Don't worry. I've gotten this far. Pretty sure I'll make it to see you grey and wrinkled.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject