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. ]

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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.

s'all I can ask. We do what we gotta do, right?

[ Even if that sounds like a yes. Even if he thinks maybe this world isn't worth the loss of Vash, if that's what it takes to keep it running. After all his big talk about choosing for himself, he can hardly try and take this choice away from Vash.

What he can do - and does - is kiss him. It's a soft thing, slow, more about appreciating the fact that it's all out and they're both still here that the usual want. Keeps that hand on the side of Vash's face and lets the other stroke over him, through his hair and against the side of his neck, trailing down over his heart. They're a pair of tragic fuckers up against impossible odds. What else is there to do? ]

[ it's good. and after today, when he'd been so sure this was something he couldn't let himself have, his own desperation won't let him keep it soft and slow for long. he tangles a hand into wolfwood's hair as he deepens the kiss, pouring everything into it -- all the heartwrenching terror of nearly losing him, all the relief at still having him here, all his gratitude for wolfwood's acceptance, all of his love for this man stupid and crazy enough to love him back.

he breaks the kiss only once his lungs are screaming at him for a proper breath, and there's one more thing he needs to make clear, but. he can't make himself move away, trailing little kisses along wolfwood's jaw in between words. ] I'm going to July to try to stop him. Knives.

I... don't know if I can. [ all this time, while vash has been getting weaker, knives has only gotten stronger. but he shakes his head, leaning up to bump their foreheads together. ] If I can, it means you'll be free. The orphanage will be safe.

[ and then, voice intent: ] I hope it means you never have to pick up a gun again, Nico.

[ It's so easy to get swept up in it, to match everything Vash puts into the kiss. The day's been straight from hell, but he's never loved Vash more. And then he breaks it to speak and Wolfwood's hit with a spike of fear - and just as quickly, resolution. ]

I'm staying with you. Doing whatever I can to make sure you get there, and get out alive.

[ He huffs a laugh. ]

There're only two things I'm good at. Killing, and getting you off. If you take away the first thing and croak while you're doing it, the fuck am I supposed to do for the rest of my life?

[ that actually gets a laugh in return, and the first hints of a smile -- a real one. ]

You're not an old enough dog to use that as an excuse.

Besides, [ carding his fingers through wolfwood's bangs, pushing them back so he can plant a kiss on his forehead. ] He doesn't want to kill me. I think... [ a pause, brow knitting slightly. this is more of a creeping suspicion than anything else, but. ] ... he has a last resort. But it's not death.

[ he might not be here, but he wouldn't be gone. no point going into specifics, though. if the eye of michael asked wolfwood to speed that end along, it'd just make it harder to pull the trigger.

okay! haven't they had enough of the grim stuff? ] But that's the worst-case scenario! We shouldn't plan on that one.

[ It's a goddamn relief to hear it from Vash that Knives doesn't want to kill him. He's been pretty sure, but there's always that sliver of doubt. And Vash almost smiling just takes it over the edge. This shitshow of a day might turn out good yet. ]

Right. Plan A is still we both live until I'm too old to make you come anymore.

Gonna be a few fun years there after I lose all my teeth, huh? So much less to think about when I'm sucking you off.

[ That's gross, but he grins. Still kinda wants it. ]

Wha --?

[ okay, finally, there's the laugh. almost like it's startled out of him before he can help it (it is), but it's clearly the real deal. ] No way, that's awful!

[ Mission accomplished. Vash laughs, and it's like medicine. The gloom lifts. They've got a hard road ahead of them, but they've also got right now. ]

Ah, come on, Tongari. You wouldn't deny an old man one of his few joys in life, would you?

[ He kisses Vash again, though it's a quick and messy thing because he's laughing too. Threads fingers into his hair and sends the other hand down to the waistband of his pants, clearly full of ill-intent. ]

Mind you, I can't count on losing 'em. I knew this broad, old as dirt. Musta smoked about forty cigarettes a day, drank more whiskey than water, wouldn't eat anything that didn't have frosting on it. Still had all her teeth. I better keep practicing, just in case.

[ kissing wolfwood before was good, but somehow? this is even better. being able to kiss him while they're both laughing, able to make stupid jokes even after everything they'd talked about before.

they're still here, they're still alive, and somehow? impossibly? they're still in love. ]

You really think you'll wanna be with me that long? [ just thinking about it makes him feel giddy, half-drunk from being happy. dipping in for another one of those quick kisses, smiling against his mouth. ]

I know it. You're cute, you're funny. You make me happy. You give good enough hugs that I forget I've got a fuckin' image to maintain and stop pretending I don't like hugs.

[ Another kiss, just because they can. Because they've been through it, physically and emotionally, and they still can. ]

Plus, you got the good stuff. If you save the world and leave me, the next time I get someone's pants off - after a good ten, fifteen years of groveling and trying to get you back - I'm gonna be sitting there thinking "is that it?"

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