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“Wolfwood.”
“Shut up-”
“I don’t need you to-”
“I don’t want to hear it from you,” Wolfwood grunted. “Now show me where you were shot.”
“I can deal with it myself…” Vash protested weakly, but his voice trailed off at the stern look on Wolfwood’s face. He rolled his sleeve up reluctantly.
“You wanna lose your good arm too?” Wolfwood took a look at the wound on Vash’s arm.
“It’s just a graze,” Vash mumbled. “I don’t think the bullet even went in-”
Wolfwood poured vodka over a cloth and wiped at Vash’s arm, ignoring Vash’s hiss of pain. It wasn’t like this was the first time for either of them. Not the first time one of them had cleaned the other’s wounds. Not the first time they had argued about it.
When he wiped off the blood, he could see the wound more clearly.
“What’s the damage?” Vash asked, laughing weakly.
“Well,” Wolfwood said, his voice even. “There’s a fucking bullet in here.”
“A-ah,” Vash laughed nervously. “Guess I was wrong!”
He resisted the urge to light a cigarette while he worked on Vash’s arm. It probably wasn’t hygienic, or some shit like that. It might steady his hands though.
“You can just leave it!” Vash said.
“Like hell I can,” Wolfwood said.
“You know my body will just push it out as it heals anyway,” Vash said. He sounded oddly ashamed about it. Like he was forgetting who he was talking to.
“And it’ll hurt like hell until it does,” Wolfwood snapped. “You’ll feel a lot better when I dig this out.”
Vash took a deep breath, looking as though he was going to argue further. But when he met Wolfwood’s eyes he nodded slowly.
Wolfwood got to work without a word. He was no surgeon, but he knew what to do. He’d maybe be more concerned about his skills if he didn’t know Vash could heal so much better than a human could.
He took out a knife, sanitizing it as best he could with alcohol and by running it through the flame of their campfire.
Vash remained remarkably still as Wolfwood dug the bullet out of his arm. The only sign that he was in pain was his prosthetic hand gripping at his knee, and him biting his lip to keep from crying out, hard enough to draw blood.
The bullet came out without much fuss. Thankfully it hadn’t been too deep.
“There, all done,” Wolfwood held up the blood-soaked bullet for Vash’s inspection before tossing it aside. “Let me just bandage you up.”
“Thanks, doctor,” Vash said, smirking weakly.
“Don’t call me that,” Wolfwood snapped.
“How about ‘Reverend’?”
“Knock it off,” Wolfwood replied, this time without any heat. He tied off the bandage, and reached into his jacket to pull out a lollipop. “Here,” he said with a smirk.
“Gee, thanks,” Vash said. But he took the lollipop and unwrapped it immediately.
Wolfwood got up. Stretching and feeling his joints pop in protest after crouching on the ground fixing Vash up for so long. He lit a cigarette and finally took a drag, feeling the tension drain out of him slowly.
It wouldn’t relax him for long. His body’s unnatural metabolism would make sure of it. Still, it was nice while it lasted.
“Should we make dinner?” Vash asked.
Wolfwood scoffed. “ We ? I can make dinner. You can sit there and heal up and watch.”
“I’m fine!”
“Doctor’s orders,” Wolfwood shrugged.
It wasn’t like he was going to put much effort into dinner. He wouldn’t admit it to Vash but, yeah, he was pretty tired. He was sure Vash knew it anyway. Plus, they had run out of any proper ingredients a while back. Dinner was going to be opening a few cans of stew and then heating it over their fire.
He struggled to keep the fire going, and he added “fuel for the camp stove” to his mental list of things to buy in the next town.
Wolfwood put a bowl of hot stew in front of Vash, and Vash took it gratefully. Vash looked pale and exhausted, he leaned over the bowl and let the steam fog up his glasses.
They ate the stew in silence. They were tired, and the stew was tasteless mush but it was good enough. Vash certainly was in better spirits when it was done.
“How’s your arm?”
“A lot better now,” Vash said. “It only hurts a little.”
“Good.”
“I keep telling you you don’t have to do that for me though,” Vash said. “It’ll heal even if left alone. I’m not-” Vash stopped himself. Leaving Wolfwood to guess at whatever he was going to say. Not normal? Not human?
He thought of the litany of scars all over Vash’s body. Wondered how badly he had to have been hurt for even his body to not be able to heal.
“I ain’t leaving you to bleed just because you’re a Plant,” Wolfwood said. Vash flinched a little at the word.
Vash didn’t say anything. Wolfwood supposed he had just steered the conversation into dangerous territory that Vash would rather avoid.
“We should get to bed,” Vash said finally.
Wolfwood nodded.
Later, when Wolfwood was lying beside Vash in their tent, staring up at the canvas, he had to admit to himself he had another motive. He didn’t think it was right that Vash allowed himself to suffer just because he could take it, and he wasn’t going to let Vash succumb to his martyr complex (or whatever it was) while he was around.
But, even if none of that was true, he would still want to do something when Vash was injured. It was nice to take care of someone again.
________________
Wolfwood’s dreams are filled with hallways.
They aren’t dark or shadowy. They’re far too bright, illuminated by fluorescent bulbs above his head that buzz so loudly in his dreams that he almost can't hear his heart pounding in his ears.
His footsteps echo.
He can’t see the people surrounding him. But they don’t hold his arms and force him towards the door.
Even in his dreams he’s given up on running away.
He never reaches the door, no matter how many times he has this dream. Because somehow the worst part was always the anticipation, knowing what was coming and knowing there was no escape.
The real hospital never had windows in the halls. But at some point they would materialize in his imagination. And no matter how he woke up, whether it was naturally or being jerked awake out of fear, the dream would end with him looking at his own reflection- and seeing a man who he didn’t recognize looking back at him.
And realizing, horribly, that the man is him.
Wolfwood woke with a start. It took him a second to remember where he was. That he wasn’t lying on a cold metal bed.
Though the cold, hard ground wasn’t much better.
He was glad that Vash was already up, so that he could have his moment of weakness in private.
Wolfwood didn’t have that dream every night, but every time he did he woke up feeling unreal. Like he wasn’t quite attached to his body.
There was nothing he could do but to get up. To remind himself through moving his limbs that they did indeed belong to this body, and that this body was his.
He crawled out of the tent, to see Vash had made them some coffee over the fire.
“Mornin’,” Wolfwood’s voice came out gravelly, he rubbed at his face and felt the stubble.
“Good morning,” Vash said cheerily.
“Didn’t say it was ‘good’,” Wolfwood said. He smiled in spite of himself when Vash chuckled.
He sat down beside Vash with what felt like a colossal effort of coordinating his limbs, which felt somehow too long for his body. Vash handed him a tin mug filled with hot, dark coffee and Wolfwood took it gratefully. He wrapped his hands around the mug instead of using the handle, it was too hot, but the burning was grounding. He focussed on the feeling.
“How’s the arm?” Wolfwood asked.
“Which one?”
“You know what I meant,” Wolfwood said. “Let’s see.”
Vash rolled up his sleeve to show that he had taken the bandage off, and the bullet wound was nearly gone. It was just a dark pink and shiny mark on his skin. Within a day or two it would be like it was never there.
“Told you there was nothing to worry about,” Vash said, rolling his sleeve back down.
Wolfwood didn’t respond. He had expected to feel some relief at seeing Vash’s wound had healed, but instead it left him feeling sick and hollow. Vash, who didn’t need to drink a vial of horrible medicine to heal like that, Vash who looked so much younger than he actually was-
He tried to stop the horrible thoughts. They were unfair. Vash had suffered far more than Wolfwood ever had-
And it had been so long since the experiments. Wolfwood would be an adult now anyway. So what did it matter if it looked a little older? Plenty of people on this Godforsaken planet looked older than they actually were, years of fighting to survive took their toll.
He had to think too hard to remember what his actual age was anyway. It didn’t matter. None of it did. So many people would kill to be able to heal like Wolfwood could-
Child of Blessing
“-Wolfwood?” Vash’s voice cut through his thoughts.
“Huh?”
“I was asking where we were heading next?” Vash said.
“Oh. Right.”
Vash was looking at Wolfwood. His blue eyes were piercing and not for the first time he wondered if Vash could really just see right through him.
Not for the first time, he was reminded how much Vash looked like Knives.
“Are you okay?” Vash said. Wolfwood hated the concern in his voice, how soft he sounded. “You seem a little out of it.”
“I’m fine,” Wolfwood said shortly. His tone left no room for argument.
__________
Wolfwood braced for the feeling of bullets ripping through his body. He was certainly no stranger to it. It was shocking, the kind of things you could get used to. He had been well trained to not make a sound when he was in pain, and now he didn’t even have to repress a shout.
Which was not to say it ever got any less painful.
He lifted the Punisher and ignored the way the movement drove the bullet deeper into his shoulder. It didn’t matter, the medicine would push it out as he healed.
Harder to ignore was Vash’s shouting, telling him to stop, to not shoot to kill. How many times would they have that argument?
Today, at least, Wolfwood didn’t want to have it again. He lowered the Punisher and let Vash make quick work of knocking their assailants out and tying them up. They’d leave the townspeople to deal with them as they saw fit.
They accepted the thanks of the town they just defended. Or rather, Vash did while Wolfwood tried to ignore the feeling of warm blood soaking his clothes. He really wanted to get somewhere out of the way so he could take some medicine.
After offering them a free place to stay for the night, the woman who owned the local inn asked, “Does your friend need help?”
The attention was on Wolfwood. He felt a smile force its way onto his face. “Nah, just a scratch. All I need is a rest and some dinner and I’ll be good as new.”
Vash didn’t contradict him, but Wolfwood saw him clench his fists out of the corner of his eye.
For her part, the innkeeper looked like she didn’t quite believe Wolfwood, but she let him go without comment. Which suited Wolfwood just fine. He didn’t need to be believed, he just needed to be left alone.
Or as alone as he could get when he was sharing a room with Vash. Vash, who was practically radiating anger as they headed up to their room for the night.
Wolfwood was expecting Vash to round on him and start shouting about whatever was bothering him the second he closed the door. But Vash remained silent and sat down on one of the rickety wooden chairs. Wolfwood supposed immediately exploding was more his style. Sometimes Vash just simmered in his anger and the next day acted normal, without Wolfwood ever knowing what was wrong.
He hoped this was one of those times. He really didn’t have the energy to deal with anything else tonight.
Wolfwood headed straight for the bathroom so he wouldn’t drip blood all over the carpet. He popped out a vial immediately and took it, feeling the familiar sensation of healing that was at once soothing and excruciating spread through his body.
He hadn’t even taken off his clothes when he saw the telltale steam rise from his injuries, felt the horrible sensation of bullets being pushed back out of him while the flesh they had torn through knitted itself back together behind them.
He peeled off his clothes so that he could take a shower once his body was no longer full of open wounds. It only took a few moments.
Wolfwood looked in the mirror to see that there was barely a sign anything had happened. Much like Vash, there were only red marks where the bullets had gone through, and even those would be gone soon.
Just like he had said earlier, he was good as new.
The same could not be said for his suit. He’d patched and cleaned it multiple times, but he had to admit that this time it was probably beyond repair. He felt an odd sense of loss at the thought. He’d liked this suit.
He took a shower and it almost made him feel clean. By the time he got out the red marks of his wounds had faded to nothing. Faster even than Vash’s had.
After changing into pajamas, he left the bathroom in a cloud of steam and threw himself onto the bed. He regretted it instantly, not only because the bed creaked ominously. His physical wounds may have healed, but they still hurt a bit.
He winced as he forced himself into a sitting position. Vash had been cleaning his gun at the table, but he had turned to face Wolfwood now. That was never a good sign. Normally, nothing could break Vash’s concentration when he was doing maintenance.
“Do you have something you want to say?” Wolfwood asked, his voice harsh. He braced himself for whatever Vash was about to say. It felt oddly like it had when he’d braced himself for the bullets’ impact earlier.
Vash fixed him with a hard stare. “Why did you jump in front of me like that?”
It took Wolfwood a second to figure out what Vash was even talking about. He had to sort through his memories of the fight they had gotten into earlier.
Oh, he had jumped in front of Vash hadn’t he? It hadn’t even really been a conscious decision. He’d acted on instinct because it was just what he did. It was his job to protect.
“I dunno,” Wolfwood said. “Just seemed like a good idea at the time.”
His flippant answer did not go over well. Wolfwood had known it wouldn’t.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to lecture me about using my body as a shield,” Wolfwood said. “I think the hypocrisy might make my head explode.”
Wolfwood was trying to push Vash’s buttons now. If Vash wanted a fight, he would get one. But, horribly, the opposite happened. The fight seemed to go out of Vash all at once. He just looked… sad.
“I’m not going to lecture you,” Vash said quietly. “I just wish you’d- I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
“Yeah, well…” Wolfwood couldn’t think of a response. He let the words trail off, hanging awkwardly in the air.
Wolfwood stood up and grabbed the pack of cigarettes out of his ruined suit jacket, he opened the window and leaned out of it as far as he could go. He lit up a cigarette. The night air was chilly.
He could hear Vash sigh behind him, but Wolfwood didn’t turn around. He could pretend he didn’t hear it.
__________
The crash was Wolfwood’s fault.
He had been too tired, he hadn’t been paying attention, he lost control of the bike. He’d almost rather they’d have crashed while being chased by bandits or something. At least then he’d have an excuse.
Instead, he was sore and bruised and cursing loudly when he saw the scratches and dents he had left on Angelina II. He was more upset about the bike than himself.
Vash was, predictably, already on his feet. Though he was looking a bit grumpy. If it had been anyone other than him in the sidecar, they’d probably be a lot more hurt. But Vash had inhuman reflexes and had managed to jump out and tuck and roll unbelievably fast.
Wolfwood wasn’t exactly normal himself. He was pretty banged up, but nothing was broken. That was good enough for him.
Still, Wolfwood needed to check the bike over to make sure there wasn’t any more serious damage.
Looked like they were making camp near here.
It was as good a place as any, he supposed. It wasn’t like any stretch of the desert was different from another around these parts.
“Looks like we’re stuck here for the night,” Wolfwood announced. “Can you help me move the bike a bit?”
“I can move it,” Vash said, a little too quickly. He didn’t give Wolfwood time to argue before he grabbed hold of the bike, pushing it forward until it was in a slightly more sheltered position.
Wolfwood made a move towards their bags to set up camp.
“I can do that too!” Vash said. “You should just rest.”
“I don’t need rest,” Wolfwood snapped. “It takes a lot more than that to put me out of commission.”
“You were just in a bike crash!”
“You were too.” Wolfwood raised his eyebrows.
“I jumped out,” Vash said. “You’re the one who was in a crash.”
They both glared at each other, both of them too stubborn to back down. Vash tried to give him a soft smile. “Come on, just sit down for a bit. I can set up the camp.”
Wolfwood knew Vash well enough to know when he wasn’t going to just drop something. Even though he had no idea what Vash’s problem was today. Wolfwood sat down on a little folding camp chair. He was glad they had picked these up in their travels, it beat trying to find the softest rock or some errant log.
He was aching. Vash was so energetic. Maybe he was just putting it on. Maybe it was because he was naturally strong, and Wolfwood’s strength was manufactured, fake-
The suns sank below the horizon, it was so much colder now. Vash was setting up the tent. There was still some light along the west. He should start a fire.
He wrapped his arms around himself. He should stop that. It was childish. It wasn’t that cold.
Suddenly, there was light. Wolfwood blinked rapidly, coming back to himself. Vash had lit the campstove and he had a pot on it, and the Humanoid Typhoon was struggling with a can opener.
“Give it here,” Wolfwood said, feeling a smile on his face despite himself.
Vash grinned at him sheepishly, handing over the can opener and the can of stew.
“Stew again?” Wolfwood groaned. As though he actually cared, as though he hadn’t eaten much worse.
“Yeah, we need to go shopping in the next town,” Vash said, taking the opened can back from Wolfwood and pouring it into the pan.
“Do we have any alcohol?”
Vash grinned. “We’re down to one beer.”
“Out of respect for you setting up the tent, I will allow us to split it instead of fighting you to the death for it.”
“Such generosity,” Vash said.
They passed the beer can between them as they ate dinner. It was cozy, it was nice. And Wolfwood was still aching from the crash.
__________
A quick inspection the next morning showed the bike was fine. He’d like to buff out the scratches and fix the paint, but he could do that in the next town.
Wolfwood took his seat and Vash took his place beside him in the sidecar. They were off.
At first it was fine, but after an hour or so it hurt to ride, every bump in the road sent flares of pain through Wolfwood’s body. He tried to ignore it as best he could. He pulled over for a quick break, trying to give his body a rest.
Vash gave him a look, it was unusual for him to take a break this soon into a ride. But he didn’t say anything.
He got on the bike again. The break hadn’t helped much, and after an hour or so he couldn’t stand it and had to pull over again.
“Wolfwood,” Vash said. “You need to rest.”
“What do you think I’m trying to do here?” Wolfwood snapped.
“No, I mean… let’s just not for today?”
“What?”
Vash looked uncomfortable. “I mean, we’re running a bit low on supplies but we should still make the next town tomorrow. We can just camp out today.”
Wolfwood looked at Vash. “We never just camp out all day.”
“You’re hurt!” Vash said.
Wolfwood actually laughed at that, though there was no humour in it. “I’m a bit bruised.” He hated that such a simple thing would slow them down. He didn’t know why his body wasn’t healing as fast as he normally did. Maybe he was a bit over tired.
“This barely counts as an injury,” Wolfwood was still grinning, and Vash was looking at him with concern in his eyes. “You saw me get shot a few days ago.”
“I know,” Vash said quietly.
Wolfwood reached into his jacket to pull out a vial.
“You told me that you’re only supposed to use that when it’s serious,” Vash said, an edge to his voice.
“I’m not slowing us down because of a few scratches.”
“Wolfwood,” Vash said harshly. “Don’t.”
“You think you can tell me what to do?” There was a dangerous note in his voice. A challenge.
“You don’t need to take it!” Vash said, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Just because you’re too stubborn to take a fucking break!”
“I don’t get to take a break!” Wolfwood shouted.
Vash gave him a long, searching look. Wolfwood regretted the words the second they left his mouth, but he couldn’t take them back, and they hung there between them.
“Why not?” Vash said, his voice so achingly gentle.
“Because-” because Miss Melanie is so busy and she needs help with the little ones and if I don’t do what the Eye of Michael tells me they’ll hurt them and if I work hard enough maybe they won’t need anymore kids -
He said nothing.
“Can’t you just rest for today?” He couldn’t bear to have Vash look at him like that. He looked away, focusing his gaze on a spot just over Vash’s shoulder, on the horizon.
“I can just take the medicine and keep going,” Wolfwood said quietly.
“Do you want to?”
Wolfwood opened and closed his mouth a few times, before he spoke the truth, so quietly he was surprised Vash could hear him. “No.”
“Then don’t.” Vash said, as though it was the simplest thing ever.
“But I-” Wolfwood was horrified to hear the catch in his voice. He would not cry. Not over something like this.
“I’ll set up the tent,” Vash said.
“Here?” Wolfwood said.
“Yep!” Vash said, suddenly chipper. “We’re done for the day.”
Wolfwood felt himself smile. “If you say so.”
Vash set up the tent, and Wolfwood lay down at his insistence. He woke up hours later, blinking and disoriented, with the suns much lower in the sky.
Wolfwood poked his head out of the tent. “You let me sleep all day?” He demanded.
Vash snickered at him in response. “Nice bedhead.”
“I don’t wanna hear that from you , Spikey.”
“Now what’s that supposed to mean?”
Wolfwood crawled out of the tent to sit down heavily at Vash’s side. “You should have woken me up.”
“I told you it was a rest day,” Vash shrugged. “Do you feel any better?”
It took Wolfwood a second to sort it out. “A bit sore but… better, yeah.”
Vash smiled. “Good.”
Wolfwood still found it hard to look at Vash. He kicked at a stone in the sand.
Vash broke the silence first. “You’re the one who makes me rest instead of just letting me suffer. I just… wanted to return the favour I guess.”
“You don’t have to,” Wolfwood said.
“Neither do you,” Vash said.
"It takes more out of you, even if you heal faster,” Wolfwood said. “It doesn’t cost me anything to take the medicine.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Vash said, quietly.
Wolfwood didn’t want to think too hard about what Vash meant by that.
“I don’t like taking it,” Wolfwood said, the words spilling out of him unbidden. “But I… don’t have a choice.”
“Why not?”
Wolfwood didn’t respond.
"I… just think you should rest, sometimes. You don’t have to force yourself to take it.”
'When they… did what they did to me,” Wolfwood said. “It was to make me more like, like a Plant I guess. Like you. Resilient.”
He chanced a look at Vash after he said that. He wished he hadn’t. The look on Vash’s face was one of pure sorrow and guilt.
“Sorry,” Wolfwood said. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You don’t have to apologize to me -” Vash said.
“You better not apologize to me either,” Wolfwood warned.
Vash smiled weakly. “I won’t. But… I already knew. Or I guessed, more like. What the experiments were about.”
Wolfwood looked at the ground again, tracing patterns in the sand with his shoe. “It didn’t work, though. I’m not… like you.”
“Is that such a bad thing?”
He just shrugged. What could he say? That he had seen Conrad’s notes on him, and that despite being the most successful experiment, despite everything he had been through, he was still a failure?
Vash was the one to break the silence. “It’s not fair.” It was so soft, so childish.
Wolfwood turned to look at him again, found himself laughing despite nothing being funny. “Well, shit. Don’t you think I know that?”
The glow of sunset reflected off Vash’s glasses, Wolfwood wished he would take them off.
“I said I knew enough about the experiments,” Vash said quietly. “I know what they did to children aged them.”
It was something Vash and Wolfwood had never talked about, though Wolfwood had always assumed Vash knew anyway.
“So?” Wolfwood challenged.
“So,” Vash said. Wolfwood felt Vash put his hand on his, warm and gentle. “I think you haven’t had people to care for you for a long time. But you don’t need to do everything yourself.”
“Do I even need to call you out for being a hypocrite?” But Wolfwood was smiling as he took Vash’s hand in his.
Vash smiled back. “Someone gave me some good advice, recently.”
“Yeah?” Wolfwood said.
“Yep,” Vash said. “He’s pretty stubborn, but I’m trying to get him to take his own advice.”
“Might be an uphill battle,” Wolfwood said.
"Too bad for him I’m stubborn too,” Vash said.
Unable to argue back anymore, Wolfwood leaned forward until he was resting against Vash’s shoulder. Vash froze for an instant, before he let go of Wolfwood’s hand to wrap his arm around him, bringing Wolfwood in closer. They weren’t shy about touching each other, but they had never done anything like this. It felt nice, it felt safe. And Wolfwood felt his embarrassment at allowing himself this intimacy fade away to nothing.
“I worry sometimes,” Vash said.
“Only sometimes?” Wolfwood asked.
“Shut up, I’m being serious,” Vash said, though Wolfwood could hear the smile in his voice. “just… worry that if you take those vials too much one day they won’t work when you need them the most, but… I don’t know if they work that way.”
Wolfwood shook his head against Vash’s shoulder. He had to be honest with him. “I don’t know either, no one’s really… lived long enough to know if the efficacy wears off.”
Vash was rubbing circles on his back.
“I think,” Wolfwood said, feeling like he was apologizing for something. “I could maybe use a day like this once in a while.”
Vash pulled him in closer, resting his chin on the top of Wolfwood’s head.
“I think we can arrange that.”