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Vash finds himself in the heat of battle this time. It's a far more familiar setting for him both in his waking hours and in his dreams, but not one that puts him at any kind of ease.
Fatigue already plagues his body as soon as he comes to awareness and every part of him is tense, muscles pulled taught like a bowstring. There's also a pulsing throb in his temple, as if he had just received a blow to it, but he doesn't think he really has time to investigate that right now.
Vash looks up to take stock of his surroundings, and immediately in front of him a bloodied and battle weary Wolfwood is staring back, eyes sharp like the beast of his namesake. Vash freezes. It's the other Wolfwood again. No, actually that isn't quite right. This Wolfwood has the same older and more world-weary look to him, definitely seems closer to Vash's memories of the other Wolfwood than the one he knows in the waking world, but the way this Wolfwood holds himself, and the wild look in his eyes is nothing at all like the man he had watched pass in the church some nights ago. There was a lightness to that Wolfwood, even in his time of dying, while this Wolfwood looks like he bares far more than the weight of the Punisher on his back.
Another notable difference, the previous Wolfwood didn't acknowledge him at all, Vash was just an observer, not an active participant in the events he was witnessing. But this Wolfwood is definitely looking directly at him.
Vash locks eyes with this Wolfwood for a brief moment before Wolfwood's eyes dart to the side, alerted to something coming their way. Vash barely has time to register the incoming projectiles before he lets instinct take over and dodges out of the way. He hides behind a crumbling stone wall and looks to see an array of knives embedded into the ground where he had just been. Wolfwood too had sprung away and was behind his own shield of wall. With his partner safe, Vash immediately tries to get a better handle on their situation, get a glimpse of their assailant, calculate where they might be based on the knives angles of trajectory…
Laughter sounds from the other side of the wall. It starts as a chuckle but slowly grows into something just a bit hysterical.
"What are you laughing at?!" He doesn't know if he should expect an answer, given how last time went, but Wolfwood, still chuckling, surprises him with a response.
"Remember Spikey? Our travels all turned out like this."
"This isn't the time for reminiscing!" It's certainly what he wants to say in the moment, but as he continues talking, the words just seem to come of their own accord. "We've never faced this kind of firepower. Keep your guard up!" He doesn't know where the words are coming from, given he doesn't know who they're fighting. It's almost automatic, as if he's reciting a script when it's his cue.
"That may be so Spikey… but I'll take them on my own. Stay out of the way."
Vash feels frustration build and he rounds the side of his wall so he can look Wolfwood directly in the eye.
"No! I refuse!" Even if the words seem predetermined, Vash's anger and fear about Wolfwood doing anything decidedly dangerous without backup are very real, absolutely his own. Martyrdom really doesn't suit him.
"What's wrong? This isn't like you, Wolfwood! What happened to the realist I knew? You have to survive!" A deathly still priest kneels before a church altar in his mind's eye. "You have to return to the children!"
Wolfwood's face is unreadable for a moment before he looks down at the ground with a rueful smile. "...I'm afraid not… Spikey…"
Vash feels the bottom drop out of his stomach entirely. Because he can hear what he means in his tone. 'It's already too late for me.' No… Not again. Don't make him see this again.
"Why have you given up? What are you saying? Snap out of it, Wolfwood!" He wants to shake him, slap some sense into him. Something. Anything. But he's pulled from Wolfwood's current bout of stubbornness by another knife sinking into the stone near his head with a 'thunk' and an odd metallic rattle. There's something attached… Shit. Vash barely has time to react to the grenade before it goes off. A yell escapes him as the wall previously protecting him gets blown to pieces and he tumbles as much out of the way of the blast as he can. Ears ringing, Vash can just make out Wolfwood shouting "Eat this!" as he fires back at their assailants before the priest finds his eyes again and calls out, "Get over here!"
Vash does as asked, changing direction on a dime because it's Nick and of course he will. Although he hasn't been traveling alongside his Wolfwood for that long, all things considered, the trust he has in the other man during a fight for their life is practically instinctual. It's insane, actually, how much Vash is willing to do for this man, and he does not want to see him die another time. He's too important. He loves him too much. The thought hits him like a lightning strike and confuses him as echoes of other unfamiliar thoughts about how much this man means to him blend and blur with his own feelings about his Wolfwood of now. It's something he needs to sort through, but later, when he, and more importantly Wolfwood, are out of danger.
Slightly disoriented by his whirlwind of thoughts, Vash is a bit inelegant when he has to dodge again. Another cluster of knives is hurled his way, and he finds himself scrambling in the air. Wolfwood yells for him as he abandons his cover. "Spikey!" A knife sinks into Nick's upper thigh as Vash lands hard on the ground. Nick is thrown off balance by the hit and Vash doesn't even have to think about it before he's tossed his gun to the side and outstretched his arms to catch the other.
"Wolfwood!"
Nick falls heavily into his right arm but Vash holds him firm, feeling the press of his body into his shoulder as Wolfwood grunts. The cool metal of Nick's pistol sears his left cheek, just as he feels two fingers curl over his left shoulder. Nick steadies himself in Vash's embrace.
Time stands still with this man in his arms, and Vash's eyes widen in horrible realization as he clutches desperately at Nick's back. His thumb grazes the edge of a bullet exit wound and he grips his friend tighter, fingers digging into his back in a way that could easily bruise. Wolfwood's erratic pulse thrums against Vash's own steady one and his labored breathing is all Vash can hear as he holds him close. An intense scent of iron and death cling to the priest that has Vash's stomach turning. He had seen that Nick was bloodied, but up close, he knows now that he has lost much more blood than was possible for a man to lose.
Nick shouldn't still be standing and yet… an image comes to Vash, unbidden, of his Wolfwood biting into a vial of something and drinking it down. He'd seen Nick do it a few times, just on the edges of his vision when he thinks Vash can't see. Whatever it is can keep Wolfwood going in the heat of battle. He knows that the steam that rolls off of him after a drink signifies his wounds closing and stitching back together. Now that he thinks about it, that too always has a unique smell, a smell like burning flesh and ozone. The Wolfwood in his arms smells strongly of that too.
Vash doesn’t even feel the five knives that pierce his shoulder as he keeps hold of Nick. Holding on to this man, keeping him from falling apart, is the only thing that matters right now.
He’s only truly shaken out of his stupor when Wolfwood moves his pistol away and begins firing, yelling “Spikey!” and bringing Vash back to himself. He’s still holding on when the other man stops firing and looks at him. “Oh.” Nick breathes softly, and Vash thinks he can see an apologetic look in his eyes behind his tinted lenses. Vash knows his own shock and fury must be nakedly displayed. Wolfwood must know that he knows. This is Nick’s last run.
Rage courses through Vash's whole body. Rage at what’s been done to his friend, counteracted in equal part by the despair at being too late to do anything to save him. These emotions overtake him, driving him forward as he begins firing shots himself. His bullet finds its home in the face of a man with wild hair and an intricate tattoo surrounding one eye, Razlo, his memory supplies but Vash has never seen this man before in his life. Vash stops as Razlo grins, though his trigger finger itches to unload more lead into him. He remembers Wolfwood’s request. He tears his eyes away from their enemy as he goes to stow his gun.
“Spikey…” Vash can’t look at him as he passes.
“Crush him.” is all he can say. Blood roars in his ears and he’s not sure if it’s real or just what he wants to hear, but he thinks Nick says softly in reply, “I’m sorry.”
Time dilates around him, the way it sometimes does in dreams. Most of the details of the fight blur and meld together but specific moments flash blindingly clear in his mind… Wolfwood blowing up the Tri-Punisher of Death’s face, Wolfwood smashing his fist into the slowly regenerating mass of flesh, bone, and muscle over and over, tears sliding down Vash’s own face as he lets out an anguished cry, Wolfwood’s mouth agape as he begins to vomit blood so dark it looks almost like ink.
Razlo calls for help and Vash is on them immediately, easily holding down both of the Eye of Michael grunts. He wants to scream ‘Don’t you dare touch him!’ what comes out is instead a harsh “Don’t interfere!” This is all he can do now, hold these two at bay as Wolfwood finishes things, even if he knows his friend isn’t really in any shape to.
“Wolfwood!” Vash yells as he watches from the sidelines, seeing Razlo wind back to deliver a killing blow, but then Razlo’s opposite hand stops him just before he strikes. Vash isn’t sure what exactly is happening but all that matters is it gives Wolfwood a chance to press his advantage.
A four bladed weapon firing from somewhere above them immediately shuts down whatever opening Nick might have had. He howls in agony as it sinks into his shoulder, painting his face with fresh splatters of crimson. Razlo gapes at the weapon, then seems to snap, ranting and screaming about almost getting killed as well. Vash can’t pay any attention to the apparent internal conflict going on with the Tri-Punisher, his focus is on Nick as he pulls the bladed weapon from his shoulder and falls back heavily on the ground.
Vash almost thinks that this is it, that when he goes over to help Wolfwood up, the man will be still and unresponsive. But then he sees the bastard pull out a cigarette and light it, putting it between his lips as he smiles at his would-be killer.
“Hey. Cry-baby Livio has returned.”
The battle is decidedly over now and things around Vash start to move in a blur again. He sees crying children, Nick’s own forlorn face, he thinks he speaks to… Brad? Or someone like him. He tries to tell Nick to talk to the kids and gets a fist to the face in response. Then Wolfwood hands him some broken coins.
“This is who I really am.” He’s really not sure what any of this means. His head is throbbing from the impact but also just from trying to make sense of the events going on around him, all while trying to keep a cap on his own storm of emotions. Fighting, Vash knew all too well, it was dealing with the fallout that he had never quite mastered. As he looks at the coins in his palm Vash also realizes something he should have noticed much sooner.
It isn’t just Wolfwood that's different here, he is also a different Vash.
Where he had expected to see that familiar teal glass-like prosthetic, instead is a much less bulky metal one covered by a long black glove. He hasn’t felt so wrong and disconnected from his own body in a long time, not since he first lost his arm. It’s not just phantom limb now, it’s phantom everything. Or perhaps he’s the phantom inhabiting this Vash’s body. It’s not his own body at all. Dizzy and untethered, he follows Wolfwood on instinct. They’re talking, but he doesn’t tune back into the conversation until Nick holds a bottle and glass up to him.
“Come join me, I haven’t had a drink with you in a while…”
In the rubble of the orphanage, a sturdy couch sits amidst fallen beams and destroyed walls. It overlooks the desert now, exposed completely to the elements, but it’s as good a place for their drink as any. They sit together, on opposite ends and Wolfwood opens the bottle, pouring for Vash when he holds out his glass.
They touch glasses with a light clink once Nick has poured his own and they both drink. It burns all the way down Vash’s throat and it does nothing but further unsettle his stomach. The anxiety of what he knows is coming simmers under his skin but his body remains still, his face impassive.
“Smile, Spikey. You look better when you smile.”
He wants to punch him. He wants to hold him and never let go.
“That was a bit harsh, sorry.”
Vash grips the glass in his hand like a lifeline. He’s surprised the thing doesn’t shatter.
“...Um… Wolfwood…” he’s struggling, hands clasped and shaking as he holds the glass. The ridiculous urge to pray comes to mind. “Please don’t… say anything stupid.” Something that would make this infinitely harder. Like ‘I’m sorry.’ Like ‘Thank you’. Like ‘I love you’.
Wolfwood falls silent and Vash immediately wants to take it back, wants to talk with him until he has nothing left to say, so there are no regrets in this. But he doesn’t, because that’s not what this Vash had done.
Little pieces of paper flutter on the edge of his vision as hand cut confetti begins to rain down around them. He watches Nick from the corner of his eye as the priest looks up at the sky, startled. And just as he did when Vash saw him knelt before the church altar, this Nicholas begins to cry.
He thinks the visions must be merging in his mind when he hears a church bell ring, but he looks up and, no, there’s one here too. As the last piece of paper flutters to the ground Vash can’t bring himself to look away from the horizon. Can’t bring himself to look at the body next to his, because when the bottle of booze falls to the ground with a clatter, he knows it’s over. Wolfwood is gone. Again.
He's gasping for air. He's awake now, he knows but he still feels there . It was starting to feel as if that world, that story was his. That he was that other Vash. Now that he’s back in the present? Reality? He’s having a hard time shaking the vestiges of his dream from his waking senses. The leather seat of the car beneath him reminds him too much of a couch. The body next to him is leaning towards him, legs crossed and eyes closed. There's a ringing in his ears. Vash shuts his eyes tight as he breaths rapid, shallow breaths. He feels sick. He grips his knees, fingers digging in to the point of bruising.
"Vash, you alright back there?"
That's Roberto. Roberto wasn't there . Roberto was never there . He's only ever here . In the now. The present. Vash's breathing begins to even out. The body… the person next to him shifts and mumbles in their sleep, letting out a soft snort of a snore as Meryl drives over a bump in their route. Vash hesitantly turns to look at him, still a little terrified of what he might see.
It's Nick, as he knew it would be, but his eyes zero in on the steady rise and fall of the preacher's… no… undertaker's chest. Finally, Vash lets out a puff of air and goes boneless against the rumbling back seat.
"Vash?" Roberto tries again, and Vash turns and looks over to see the older man eyeing him with concern. He scrubs a hand over his face quickly. Shit. He had been crying again. Familiar reassuring smile firmly in place, Vash waves his prosthetic hand dismissively.
"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Didn't quite know where I was when I woke up. You know. It happens," he forces out a laugh and Roberto narrows his eyes for a moment before shaking his head and turning his eyes back to the stretch of desert ahead of them.
When relieved of Roberto's scrutiny, Vash turns back to watch Wolfwood again and starts when he finds he's being watched in return. Nick is still in the slumped, legs crossed position he was in before but his eyes are alert and observing Vash with overt suspicion.
"Oh, sorry Wolfwood, didn't mean to wake you. Thought someone who snores like you do must be a deep sleeper!" He gets a kick in the shin for that.
"I don't snore."
"You do snore!" Meryl chimes in helpfully from the driver's seat.
Vash flicks Wolfwood's ear. "See?" Childish maybe, but he'd rather have Nick thinking about getting into a stupid slap fight than have him wondering why Vash almost had a panic attack in the back seat of the car. Maybe he also still wants to hit Wolfwood for going off on his own and getting in a fight he couldn't win by himself. ' But this Wolfwood didn't do that' he has to remind himself. Wolfwood does slap Vash's hand away with a grumble but he doesn't seem to be easily goaded into dropping it this time.
Wolfwood doesn't bring anything up in the car, it would be a four way conversation at that point and Vash would immediately clam up, but the look Nick gives him clearly says 'Later' and now Vash is already dreading that ‘ later’ with his entire being. After Nick's silent promise he closes his eyes again, trying to get a bit more sleep before they make camp for the night. No one had ever asked him to, but Wolfwood seems dead set on taking guard duty most nights when they sleep in the desert, so almost always made up the difference in the car.
With all the attention now off of him, Vash is left to think about his dream as he watches sprays of sand be kicked up by their tires. He's having trouble sorting through all of his feelings about it. He can't tell what are his feelings and what are the other Vash's. Some feelings had felt more familiar, more his own. His frustration, his anger, the depths of his sadness, regret, and loss... But those flashes of affection? The profound sense that the man he fought beside was someone he never wanted to be parted from… Could those feelings be his? For this Wolfwood? Does it really matter whose feelings are whose when he is Vash ?
He's had other dreams, since the first, that felt like this. Felt this real and familiar while being full of slightly incorrect faces. He's dreamt of another Meryl, of another Knives, even another Rem. He had hoped never again to dream of the other Wolfwood. The more dreams like this he has, the harder it gets to convince himself that a dream is all it really is. He looks down at his hand, counts every glassy teal joint and runs his other fingers down its smooth synthetic forearm.
What is he going to say when Nick inevitably asks him what's wrong? He doesn't think playing it off like last time is going to work. He could lie, say it was some other kind of nightmare… or…
What if he's seeing this now as some kind of warning? What if, regardless of if what he saw actually happened somewhere, somewhen, or not, these dreams were here to guide him to a happier conclusion. Before them, he always considered Wolfwood as someone who could take care of himself, one of the few that he didn't have to try so hard to keep out of harm's way. Nick was strong and confident. He could keep up with Vash, fight alongside him, and while that was all still true, it was like a cold splash of water reminding Vash that however strong he is, Wolfwood is still only human. He could still fall just as easily as any human. Still needed someone to watch his back whenever possible. Still needed someone to help shoulder whatever hidden burdens he may have.
Maybe he should be honest.
The rest of the car ride is uneventful. Vash allows himself to zone out as he listens to Meryl and Roberto talk about their article, only needing to re-ground himself every once in a while by glancing over to Wolfwood's sleeping but breathing form or by running his hand over his familiar prosthetic.
Vash is taken out of his own head by a low whistle from Roberto in the front seat. He looks up and feels himself freeze momentarily at the familiar sight in front of him. A SEEDS ship sits half buried in the hungry desert sands, all metallic sheen blasted away by years of erosion. Most wrecks like these weren't much more than hollow shells at this point, usually prime targets for salvage and theft.
There certainly wouldn't be a plant there, but the structure itself could still provide good shelter. Vash himself had taken shelter in his fair share of abandoned SEEDS wreckages. He just… preferred not to if he could avoid it. The ghosts of his past were always much more loud, more corporeal, when he was surrounded by those familiar walls, walking through that familiar layout. Even if it was a ship he'd never been on, the interiors of all of them were close enough to elicit sense memories he'd rather keep buried. Meryl, however, had no such qualms about seeking shelter in the wreck.
"Let's check it out, yeah?" It's a statement more than a question. She doesn't even wait for a reply from the rest of them as she turns the wheel and drives in that direction.
"Better than sleepin' out in the open desert again. It's about time we stop anyway, 'fore all the daylight's gone completely." Roberto rolls his shoulders and Vash can hear a resounding pop as he does so.
"Yeah," Meryl yawns, "And I'm tired of driving… Hey, wait! You said we would swap hours ago, sir!"
"You were doin' a fine job, newbie. You said you only just got tired and we're stoppin' anyway. No harm, no foul, eh?" Meryl's glaring daggers at him as they close in on their destination. She slows the car to a stop and shuts off the engine.
"That's not the point! It's the principle of the thing, you know! Whatever happened to equal division of labor, huh?" Vash chuckles as he watches the two reporters bicker, or really, as an exasperated Meryl gives her superior a well deserved talking to.
Roberto holds his hands up in surrender, "Alright, alright, simmer down. In the spirit of equal labor, how's about I try to see if I can siphon anything from this old relic to charge the car and you can start unpacking. Deal?"
They get out of the car, seemingly forgetting about the other two in the back seat as they continue arguing about who's in charge of what, so it falls to Vash to wake the sleeping Wolfwood.
"Hey, Wolfwood, we've stopped," he touches Nick's shoulder lightly, but when the undertaker continues to softly snore he decides to give him a bit of a shake. "Wolfwooood, come on!" He snorts and his eyelids flutter briefly but he still doesn't stir. Man, where was this heavy sleeping before, huh? Vash sighs and leans right down next to his ear. "Yo, Wolfwood, wake up!"
Wolfwood's eyes fly open and he immediately jerks upward. Vash doesn't have enough time to move out of the way and their heads collide painfully. Vash is reeling but he hears Nick suck in a breath before he feels a rough punch to his shoulder. "What the hell was that for Needle-noggin?!"
"So confirmed, you do snore and are a heavy sleeper, got it."
"I'm gunna kick your ass!"
"Nope! Unpacking time!" Vash ducks out of the way as Wolfwood goes to grab him and exits the car. He chuckles as he hears Wolfwood's muffled expletives on the other side of the door.
Confronted again with the exterior of the ship, Vash's easy smile fades and he breathes, psyching himself up for going inside. He should probably ask Meryl what she wants him to do in terms of evening duties but his boots feel leaden as he continues to hesitate.
He doesn't notice the car door slam but does jump when an arm slings across his shoulder heavily.
"We better find Shorty before she comes back out to yell at us, eh?" Wolfwood's already lit a cigarette and takes a drag as he leads them forward into the bowels of the ship. Once they cross the threshold, Wolfwood removes his arm from around the other man and just falls into step beside Vash. Vash finds he misses the bit of contact.
Their footsteps echo in the empty halls of the ship, Vash was right to assume that the place had been picked fairly clean, but it was also in better condition than he expected. Far more intact than some of the other wrecks he's sheltered in. They walk in companionable silence until they hear the tell-tale clattering and banging of someone digging around where they shouldn't. Wolfwood rolls his eyes but Vash can't help but smile as they both jog to where they now know Meryl to be.
They find her around the corner of their current corridor practically wrestling with a door, and losing. She kicks the door in frustration then immediately whines in pain and does a few little hops on her other foot.
"Need a hand?" Meryl looks up sharply at Vash's words, then blushes, embarrassed. She huffs.
"If you can get it, go for it. It looks like there's a kitchen in there," she leans her face against the dusty, smudged glass of the door window, squinting to see. "Might be usable if it's been sealed up tight this whole time! I'm dying for a proper meal."
Vash gently nudges her aside so he can get at the door.
"These doors were all electric, powered by plants, once, so they won't open if you try to brute force it. There is an emergency hatch riiight…" he twists open an innocuous bit of metal plating and it falls away, revealing a handle, "here, that lets you open it manually." He grips the handle and tugs, a loud thunk echoing down the halls of the ship as he engages the override. The door still doesn't slide easily, it screeches in protest as Vash wiggles it along its track but eventually it's fully open. Meryl's eyes are wide with surprise, but she smiles, impressed.
"How'd you know how to do that?"
Vash ducks his head, his go-to phony smile sliding into place. "Ah, well, I've wandered a lot, stumbled on a few of these. You learn some tricks." It isn't an outright lie but he feels Wolfwood's gaze burning a hole in the back of his neck. He hurries into the room.
It seems to be a small auxiliary galley, essentially almost like a break room, but it does have a kitchenette. While there's a fine layer of dust coating everything, it's all decidedly intact and Vash would bet money that it all still works. Meryl sets a bug lantern she had brought with her on the table, casting a wash of dim greenish yellow light over everything.
"Right!" she claps her hands together. "You two are on dinner duty!" Wolfwood, who had been opening cabinets and drawers, and inspecting their contents, shrugs nonchalantly in acceptance. Odd, Vash was expecting some complaining for the more domestic duty. Then he realizes, right, it'll be just the two of them… alone… this must be later . Meryl hefts their bag of rations and other food supplies into the room before waving at them cheerily and scampering away.
The room is decidedly more quiet now without Meryl's energetic presence, the faint buzzing of the trapped insects making for a neutral room tone as the two men shuffle around each other, getting out supplies, cleaning off surfaces, and testing equipment. Not everything on the ship was purely plant-powered, just in case of emergencies, so they're able to actually fire up a gas burner and get to cooking.
Vash sets some water to boil and is wiping off a dusty pan he finds when Wolfwood sets something down on the counter beside him with a light clink. A bottle of whiskey and two small glasses. Vash pales as he watches Nick pour his own shot. He goes to pour Vash's too.
"No thanks!" he says, too hurriedly, too loud. Nick raises an eyebrow at him as he downs his glass in one.
"Just thought you might want something to relax a little, Needle-noggin. I can tell you're on edge."
Vash shrugs tightly, eyes darting to the bottle and the glass, then away. He thinks of his dream glass tight in his hands as he sits on the couch . He gives his head a small sharp shake as if shoeing a fly. He crosses his arms in a way that he hopes appears casual and subtly runs his thumb along his prosthetic. Wolfwood lets out a harsh, frustrated breath.
"Alright, Spikey, what's the deal? Huh? Unless someone's talkin' to ya, you seem iles away. You damn near had a panic attack when you woke up in the car earlier! You really just having nightmares that bad?"
Vash looks at Nick, he takes in the tense line of his jaw, the twitch of muscle at his temple. He's definitely mad. Mad at Vash for hiding something, yeah, for sure, but the way his eyes cast down and his brow pinches at his final question tell he's also mad because he's worried .
Vash opens and closes his mouth, not really sure where to start.
"Y-yeah. They're pretty bad." He nods, running his hand through his hair. He breaths in through his nose then sighs. "And… and I'm worried they aren't just dreams?"
Nick is looking at him, surprised and a bit confused. Maybe he was expecting Vash to be more closed off about this, expecting him to dodge direct questions as he is want to do. But Vash has already decided to be honest with Wolfwood about this, for his own sake, so he presses on.
"I've had nightmares before, truly awful, terrible nightmares that have me screaming awake, but they don't feel the way these do. These feel real. Tangible ."
He swallows.
"Like memories. But I never lived them. It's… off putting." Vash is shivering.
Nick moves a bit closer, resting a hesitant, gentle hand on Vash's shoulder. Vash shoots him an appreciative smile.
"What happens in them?"
Vash closes his eyes, pained. His next words are barely a whisper.
"You die."
The room falls silent. Nick's fingers tense on Vash's shoulder but only for a moment as Vash holds his own arms tight to himself.
"Is that all?"
Vash whips his gaze to Nick, his eyes narrowed, furious.
"Isn't that enough?" he hisses. Do you really have so little regard for your own life?
Nick's eyes widen minutely, taken aback, before he collects himself.
"I mean , it's just me? Every time?"
"Yes… no… sort of. I've had dreams of… other people. Like sometimes Meryl's there but she doesn't die . And also… you're all… different ." He sighs, shoulders slumping. "I don't know how to explain it. You look a little different, and act a little different, but it's definitely you ," he huffs a hollow laugh as he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Pretty sure you're actually a priest in these dreams instead of an undertaker."
"...So…" Nick starts slowly, considering. "You're worried that these dreams of me, but not me, what? That they're gunna come true?" Vash looks directly into Wolfwoods eyes, his normal bright blue gaze shimmering a more eerie teal in the odd lighting.
"Or like they already happened."
"... Your 'past life' ponderings, huh?" Vash nods jerkily and looks away. Wolfwood sighs, removing his hand so he can scrub his face with it. "Well, that's fine then isn't it? If it's a past life or whatever, then it doesn't matter. Already happened. And I'll tell you right now, Needle-noggin, I don't plan on dying anytime soon. Alright?" He offers a crooked grin.
Vash can tell that Wolfwood is hoping that's enough to end it but he's not getting it . He grits his teeth in frustration, holding his head in both hands for a moment with a groan. "I don't think that's it, Nick. This has to be happening for a reason. If they are of past lives it's a cycle because you've died twice . And there are things here, now that are like… reminders… echoes… fucking omens! I don't know!" He throws his hands up in exasperation.
"Spikey, come on. I get you're freaked, but you just sound paranoid now."
"I'm trying to be honest with you!" Vash can't keep the desperation out of his voice. "I… don't want to see you die again. I really don't. I feel like I'm being shown how it has happened so I can prevent it from happening again! I can… I have to save you."
It's the wrong thing to say, and Vash knows immediately. His heart thuds as he watches Wolfwood's concerned gaze grow hard. He flinches as the undertaker sneers.
"You don't have to do anything, I can take care of my damn self! I'm the one who's here to keep your sorry ass out of trouble, don't forget that!" He scoffs.
"Wolfwood… I…"
"Ya know, this is just more of your self-righteous, gotta save everyone, hero-complex bullshit, Vash!" he jabs a finger at Vash's chest. "Sometimes people die! One day that might be me! Sucks, but I know what kinda life I lead. I'm not itching to go in the pine box, and I'll fight like hell to stay out of it, but it's still a reality you might have to fucking deal with! God…" his hands twitch toward his pocket where he keeps his cigarettes. He jams one in his mouth even if he's not going to light it inside.
"Don't waste your energy worrying about me."
Silence.
"...It's never a waste on you, Nick," Vash replies quietly. " Never ."
Nick looks at Vash then, some of the hard edge in his gaze softening, just a little. The two of them stand there for a moment, staring at one another. Nick seems to be searching for something in Vash's eyes. Feeling exposed, Vash suddenly finds the floor fascinating. Wolfwood sighs.
Then, without another word, Wolfwood turns on his heel and leaves the galley. Vash watches him go, wishing that conversation had gone differently, but not chasing after him to fix it. He's really not even sure how he would fix it. He won't apologize for caring about the other man, but his desire to protect him seems to be what set him off. His heart clenches painfully at the thought of Nick considering himself a waste. But there's nothing to be done about it now. Hopefully Nick just needs… time.
Vash tries not to think about how much he wishes Nick was still here, in his line of sight. Maybe still touching him on the shoulder, comforting. He places his own hand on the spot where Nick's had been.
A hiss sounds behind him as the water in the pot boils over and splashes on the burner. Vash blinks, staring for just a moment before he moves to turn the heat down. He sighs, shucking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves. Time to focus on finishing Wolfwood's and his assigned task… alone.
"Okay! Supper! Everyone, eat!"
Meryl, Roberto, and to Vash's relief, Wolfwood are all piled in the small room looking from Vash, to the table before them laden with plates. Meryl speaks up first.
"Uh, Vash? Any reason you made so much food? I know I said I was dying for a good meal, and it looks great, don't get me wrong, but it's a bit… much?"
"Yeah Blondie, no idea how you expect us to eat all of this." Well… that's a new nickname. Vash can't tell if that's a sign that he and Wolfwood are good again. Nick's wearing his sunglasses, even in this dim lighting. Probably just so Vash has a harder time figuring out what he's thinking.
"Hmm?" Vash blinks, clearing his thoughts and refocusing on Meryl's question. He looks down to the table as well. "Oh." He has seemed to have made some rather large portions of food for their tiny group. Actually, he may have just cooked up the entirety of their travel food supply, unawares. Looks like their next stop was going to have to be a town. "I… sorry I don't know why I did that. I was just… hungry… I guess." His brow furrows and he stares at the many plates of food, mouth slowly pulling into a frown.
Nick is staring at him, expression unreadable.
Roberto claps him on the shoulder.
"Well, best not let it get cold."
Meryl and Roberto take their seats and start doling out their own portions, thanking Vash for cooking. Vash turns an expectant gaze to Nick, as he's still standing back. Nick's sunglasses slip down the bridge of his nose and their eyes meet for a brief moment before Wolfwood shrugs, then grabs himself a plate, loading it high with pasta.
He wastes no time before aggressively chowing down. Meryl makes a face at the undertaker for his poor table manners but Wolfwood just shoots Vash a grin after he swallows a hearty mouthful, and Vash allows himself a small smile in return. He has a feeling they're going to be alright after all. "Thanks for the food, Needle-noggin. Won't let this go to waste. Gotta keep up our strength after all, right?"