Vash trembles at the thought: Wolfwood isn’t going to make it.
He carries Wolfwood’s listless body into an abandoned building, a couple of blocks away from the bandits looking for them. Wolfwood makes no sound, unconscious from the pain and blood loss, as Vash carefully lays him down. There are cuts and bruises but the wound in his abdomen is fatal from the way it’s bleeding steadily onto the wooden floor. Vash takes off his coat and bunches up the fabric to press it into the wound, hoping to stem the bleeding—he can always clean his coat later.
It’s not enough. Wolfwood can heal faster than an average human but it’s not enough. The wound will take days to heal without intensive care and Vash doesn’t have days to spare when they are stuck in a building. Plus bandits are looking for them.
Guilt crawls up Vash’s throat. Wolfwood had taken the full force of a shotgun blast that was meant for him. And at that, he had to leave the Punisher behind, which Wolfwood dropped after getting shot, in his haste to get him to safety. The gun had a few vials stored in it, Wolfwood rationing them for serious injuries since leaving the Eye of Michael. Vash’s eyes water in frustration, berating himself for being so careless and not thinking to get the only thing that could save him.
Gripping the fabric of his coat, he racks his brain to think of a way to help Wolfwood but comes up short. He can’t leave him to get the vials, the bandits are likely guarding the Punisher and they could find Wolfwood while he was gone. And he could bleed out.
Please. Vash begs silently, closing his eyes and leaning forward to rest his forehead against Wolfwood’s. His skin is cool where it’s usually warm. Vash chokes back a dry sob. He can’t break down when Wolfwood needs him.
Is there anything? He tries to come up with something, anything—nothing. A hopeless wish does appear. Vash would be able to help Wolfwood if he was a Plant, as he has done for his sisters. He feels bad for wasting time imagining a different scenario. Taking a deep breath, Vash opens his eyes, intending to pull away to compose himself but something catches his eye and he inhales sharply as if punched.
Vash isn’t surprised that his markings are glowing in the dark room (his subconscious thoughts of wanting to heal Wolfwood causing them to appear), but something else is glowing too, faint.
Wolfwood has his own markings. Plant markings.
“What—” he choked. That’s impossible. Did he somehow give Wolfwood markings? He didn’t transfer any energy. But how—
A memory appears in front of his eyes. A conversation he had with Meryl.
“What do you think the vials are made of?” Meryl asked, a certain tone in her voice when she was trying to investigate something.
Vash shrugs, focused on fiddling with his gun.
“C’mon, you had thought about it before, right? Fast regenerative properties? How do you think they were made?”
Vash stills his mind to not say the answer but it’s useless.
Plants. Nai.
Meryl gives him a look of sympathy when he doesn’t answer. They both know they won’t get one from Wolfwood, won’t know what the Eye of Michael has done.
Vash swallows a lump in his throat. “What have they done to you?” he whispers to no one. Maybe one day Wolfwood will tell him.
If Wolfwood indeed has some Plant in him, there is a way he could heal him.
Taking a deep breath, Vash leans forward to rest his forehead on Wolfwood. He closes his eyes and reaches out with his mind. With his Plant sisters, a connection is made instantly. Vash has an inkling feeling that this won’t be easy—it’s the first time connecting with a human and a difficult one at that.
Nothing happens. Vash concentrates some more, searching, for any sign of Wolfwood. He grits his teeth. Is it already too late? Is this even possible and am I just wasting time—
He senses something—Wolfwood—easy to miss since he’s not reaching out. Vash extends himself towards him, entering his consciousness.
Vash finds himself standing in a blank space, dark and endless with no walls visible on the horizon. Looking over himself, he notices he has his coat on. He turns around and spots a child. A mop of black hair tucked between their drawn-up knees.
“Wolfwood,” Vash breathes.
Wolfwood perks up at his voice, staring at him with dull eyes. Vash assumes Wolfwood is a teen here. He half-expected him to be older or aggressive but he can work with this.
Vash sits in front of him and smiles at him. “Hey, Nicholas.”
Nicholas avoids his gaze, mumbling, “What are you doing here?”
Vash hesitates. For this to work, he needs his full consent. In other words, trust. The trust he doesn’t know Wolfwood will give him after forcing himself into his consciousness and potentially seeing something he shouldn’t—seeing something Wolfwood doesn’t want to share. Wolfwood is vulnerable to Vash invading his thoughts, memories, and feelings and Vash has to make it clear that he won’t do that.
He's not going to invade his privacy like that.
“I came here to help you.”
Nicholas scrunches his nose. “Leave.”
Vash deflates. “Nick please—”
Nicholas rushes to stand, hackles rising. “I said leave!”
Vash rises as well, hands reaching out, hesitating when Nicholas jerks away from him.
“I don't need help!” Nicholas shouts.
Vash feels Wolfwood’s subconscious pushing at him, not wanting his uninvited presence. He panics. If he gets kicked out he doesn’t know if he will be let back in again. Wolfwood could bleed out by then. Vash rakes his brain trying to figure out a way to talk to a young Wolfwood when the only pieces of information he can use are Wolfwood grew up at Hopeland Orphanage and helped take care of other kids despite being young himself, a big brother.
A big brother doesn’t ask for help.
“Nicholas,” Vash pleads, “you’re important to me, I want to make sure you’re okay.”
Nicholas shakes his head, balling his fists. “Just leave me alone.”
Vash refuses to leave him. “You know I won’t do that. I’m not gonna leave you.”
Tears well up in Nicholas’ eyes; Vash’s eyes water at the sight. He tries to convey how sincere he is as best as he can without a connection, hoping Wolfwood will accept him.
“Do you trust me?” Vash whispers.
The tears fall down Nicholas’ cheeks as he breathes harshly. “I don’t want you to see anything,” he utters.
“I won’t,” Vash assures, taking a step towards him. “I trust you and you trust me. It works both ways.”
Vash is just as vulnerable to Wolfwood peeking into his own subconscious.
Nicholas’ shoulders droop. Vash crouches in front of him.
“I won’t until you’re ready.” Vash reaches out a hand. “Do you trust me?” he asks one more time.
Nicholas gazes at his open palm.
“I won’t look at anything,” Vash insists.
“Promise?” Nicholas mumbles.
“I promise.”
Nicholas takes his hand. Just as Vash is about to bend down and touch his forehead, the surrounding space shifts and another presence appears.
Vash turns and sees older—present—Wolfwood, back facing him.
“Wolfwood!” Vash calls.
Vash takes a step forward but stills, causing Nicholas to bump into his back. Even without a connection, Vash senses the tension radiating off of him. Nicholas senses it too and hides behind him, gripping his coat.
“The fuck are you doing here?” Wolfwood growls.
Unlike his younger self who had some childlike hope, present Wolfwood puts pride and aggression first like a wounded animal.
Wolfwood turns to face him, arms crossed and eyes bloodshot. A pang hits Vash seeing him so weary. Vash raises his hands with open palms to placate him.
“I’m here to help. I can heal you.”
Wolfwood frowns. “And how are you gonna do that?”
“You have Plant genes—I think. I can—”
“Stop.” Wolfwood lets out a humourless laugh. “You can’t be serious.”
Vash doesn’t answer his rhetorical remark. He can’t blame him for not believing he was ‘half-Plant’ or a blend of human and Plant. Didn’t believe it himself until he saw the markings.
“Wolfwood please, I need to heal you. We—you don’t have much time,” Vash urges.
“Fuck off.”
Vash recoils. “What?”
Wolfwood grits out a, “Leave me alone.”
Vash sputters, “I’m not leaving you! Your other self trusts me and I promised to help, I know it means something to you.”
Wolfwood scoffs. "Yeah well, that's what you do when you're desperate.”
After he finishes his sentence, the warmth by Vash’s side disappears. Vash whips his head to find Nicholas vanished. He gapes.
Does Wolfwood not trust him at all? Is he going to deny him until the bitter end and die in his grasp?
Anger overcoming him, Vash marches towards Wolfwood and grabs his collar. “Why are you being so difficult?” he hisses.
He doesn’t know why he’s angry for younger Wolfwood’s sake. Maybe he’s hurt that the Wolfwood in front of him doesn’t trust him. Maybe he’s angry at the people who hurt Wolfwood who made him closed off, skeptical of anything good.
Wolfwood glowers, eyes lit ablaze. “Did you fucking forget whose brain you’re in?”
That’s right. Vash should put aside his own feelings and reassure him, not rile him up. Wolfwood can kick him out of sheer stubbornness despite his injuries. He reminds himself that some part of Wolfwood does trust him, proven by the willingness of his younger self.
Vash lets go of his grip and takes a deep breath. “I’m not going to pry. I just want to help you.”
“You stick you’re nose into everything!” Wolfwood exclaimed. “Don’t think I haven’t heard one of your little conversations with Meryl about me. Both of you can shake hands for being the most nosy people on this planet.”
Miffed, Vash puffs out air through his nose. He’s trying to piss you off, don’t rise to the bait.
“Then how about I ask you the same question as I did with him: Do you trust me?”
Wolfwood glares. “Yeah, I trust you’re gonna find something to feel personally responsible for afterwards.”
Vash meets his gaze head-on. “That wasn’t my question.”
Wolfwood clenches his jaw. Wolfwood is many things but he’s not a liar when it comes down to it—trying to find a way to avoid the question.
Vash grins in victory. “You do.”
Scowling, Wolfwood leans back. “Get the fuck away from me.”
Vash reaches forward, making Wolfwood flinch away but Vash catches him and holds his face in his hands. Wolfwood grips his wrists—he’s shaking.
“Everything will be okay,” Vash whispers.
There’s something else amidst the pride and hostility: he’s scared.
Wolfwood stares wildly, breath picking up.
Vash offers him a smile. "I got you." And leans his forehead against his.
Wolfwood shuts his eyes, letting out a dry inhale that sounds more like a sob. His knees buckle and Vash guides him to the floor, shuffling closer. Vash hums a tune to soothe him, sweeping his thumbs across his cheekbones, and closes his eyes.
Without resistance, Vash connects with Wolfwood, his first message being: You’re safe with me.
Connected, Vash takes over, pouring a steady stream of energy not to overwhelm Wolfwood’s mind. He opens his eyes to find himself back in the dark building he dragged Wolfwood into. Whereas Wolfwood’s markings were faint before, they’re currently glowing as bright as his own. Now that Wolfwood’s life won’t be in danger, Vash lets out a shaky sigh. He closes his eyes again and focuses on his task.
Vash knows it’s unavoidable to not see snippets of Wolfwood’s memories during the process. He directs his mind away from the images that flash before him—orphanage, medical table, visages of people from the Eye of Michael—and instead shares pieces of his memories: the geranium fields from Ship 3, looking up at the stars, travelling the planet.
Another time he'll share Rem.
Vash feels the moment Wolfwood comes into consciousness. Leaning back, he removes his coat from Wolfwood’s abdomen. The skin is raw but thankfully the wound is closed, only leaving a bloody mess around it.
Vash huffs a laugh as the tension washes away. It worked.
Wolfwood’s eyes flutter open, meeting Vash's gaze, with markings visible on his sclera. Giddy, Vash traces his fingers across his forehead—warm—and brushes his fringe back, grinning all the while.
“Hey,” Vash says softly.
Wolfwood grunts, looking away. “You look pretty happy for someone stuck in a shit hole.” His markings slowly fade away.
Vash just bites his bottom lip failing to hide his smile. He hasn’t forgotten where they are he doesn’t care at this moment.
Bracing his hands on the floor, Wolfwood struggles to sit up, hissing at the strain in his body. Vash swiftly guides him up with a hand on his back and lets it rest there. Wolfwood looks down at himself, fiddling with his white dress shirt that’s stained red.
“Gonna need new clothes.”
Vash huffs. Still riding the high, Vash leans forward to touch his forehead against Wolfwood’s temple. He can do this now. There's a brief moment of hearing his thoughts—gotta get my gun—until Wolfwood flinches away from the contact, caught off guard by Vash entering his mind.
"Not used to that," Wolfwood mutters, fingers touching his head.
“Sorry, got carried away.” Vash smiles. "Let's get out of here."
Heading back to Wolfwood’s motorcycle, Vash supports his weight as they stay hidden in back alleys. He wrangles a drained Wolfwood into the sidecar and helps him shrug out of his suit jacket and shirt. He grabs a clean shirt from their combined travel bag and pulls it over Wolfwood’s head. Wolfwood insists he can get his gun back himself but is persuaded to stay put by a stern look. He gives Vash a pissy look before he leaves.
As luck would have it, there’s only one bandit guarding the Punisher, the others must have grown bored watching over it. With one quick hit at the back of the head with his revolver, the guy is knocked out cold without incident. Fingers hooked on one of its belts, Vash hurries back to Wolfwood who droops in relief seeing him with his gun. Vash places it on the bike and moves to sit on the bike seat.
“You’re not driving my bike.”
“Wolfwood, I’m not letting you drive.”
“You don’t know how to drive!”
“I’ll be very careful!”
Vash being careful while steering the bike has him driving half the speed Wolfwood normally drives—which is very fast—but Vash thinks he’s gotten the hang of it after an hour. Wolfwood passes out after being convinced he won’t crash. The next hour has them arriving at an inn in a small town. Less obvious about who he is without wearing his (bloody) red coat, Vash gets a room and nudges a sleeping Wolfwood awake. He carries both Wolfwood’s gun and their stuff to their room, leaving Wolfwood grumbling behind him.
Vash helps clean the dried blood off of Wolfwood’s skin with a damp towel and hovers over him while he changes into his sleepwear. He doesn’t miss Wolfwood’s ears turning red and laughs, earning him a scoff and Wolfwood walking out of the bathroom. Vash quickly changes into his pyjamas and dumps his dirty clothes in the bathtub along with his coat and Wolfwood’s attire. Tomorrow’s problem.
Walking into the room, he sees Wolfwood lying in bed with his eyes closed. Shuffling towards the bed, he quietly takes off his prosthetic, places the arm on the nightstand, and climbs on the bed. Next to him, he hears Wolfwood breathing and turns to gaze at him, staring at his lashes fanning his face. His eyes move up to his forehead.
“I can hear you staring.”
Wolfwood opens his eyes and catches Vash’s gaze.
Vash flushes. "Sorry." He scrambles to turn off the nightlight and pulls the covers over him.
A beat of silence passes between them. Vash stares at the ceiling.
“You could do it.”
Vash turns towards Wolfwood again. He sees Wolfwood wave his hand vaguely in the dark.
“Your Plant thing.”
Oh.
Vash leans up, hovering over Wolfwood who keeps his eyes closed. Giving him enough time to change his mind, Vash bends down.
The first thing that Vash feels from Wolfwood is exhaustion, mind sluggish. He can sense a small part of his mind is weighed down by the knowledge of him having Plant genes? Mutation? What else did they do to my body? Sadness hits Vash.
Wolfwood nudges him. Go to sleep if you’re gonna be mopey.
Vash pouts. Fine. He settles for sharing the moment he had the best donuts in his life which was just last week. Wolfwood snorts.
They end up sending silly snipes of memories of their travels: the time Vash accidentally ripped a sheriff’s shirt off when his prosthetic malfunctioned—he was trying to pat him on the back to pacify him!—and subsequently got kicked out of town, Wolfwood shaving his scruff but ending up with nicks and cuts all over his jaw (Vash helped him the next time he tried) and getting stuck in a dumpster while hiding from bounty hunters.
Vash recalls a time when an older lady tried to hit on Wolfwood, laughing at a flustered Wolfwood trying to buy cigarettes while the lady ogled and chatted him up. He snickers as Wolfwood’s consciousness pushes him (but not hard enough to kick him out).
The amusement dies down and there’s a pause in their thoughts. Vash is about to pull away when he hears two words, almost missing them.
Thank you.
Vash surges forward, honing in on it. He hears Wolfwood inhale sharply as he pours into his consciousness, enveloping him with warmth like a hug.
He wants to be with Wolfwood as he parses through his newfound Plant abilities, wants to reassure him that they'll get through this together—if he'd have him—and when Wolfwood can't find the words, Vash will understand through the new bond they have. He’s overjoyed to have another way of connecting with the one person he feels safe next to and is struck with the realization that he—
The connection cuts off as Wolfwood pulls away, overwhelmed by Vash’s emotions. The room is lit with their combined glow.
Wolfwood coughs. "You should probably keep your thoughts to yourself."
Vash reddens, stifling his grin by biting his bottom lip. “My bad.” He’s too sappy to feel embarrassed. Maybe another time Wolfwood will be ready to hear those words.
A silent agreement passes between them that they should get some rest. Vash flops down on top of him, bringing an arm around his midsection and tucking his head into his neck while Wolfwood rests a hand on the small of his back.
Clinging to Wolfwood, Vash thinks I’m so glad you’re okay.
Wolfwood brushes his lips on top of his head in response.