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kitsoa · 2 days

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Fun fact, I added a chapter to this fic because I had another idea that I really wanted to implement. Yes, this is probably a bad idea, but shut up. AO3 link in a reblog, full chapter below!

the unknowable tomorrow: a tristamp fanfic part fourteen: meryl...

cw: reality warping

The sun was almost blinding as Meryl stepped out of the portal. She decided to use that as an excuse for why she immediately fell down a sand dune, not that she was hit by a bad case of Two Left Feet.

Meryl spat out a mouthful of sand once she stopped rolling and struggled to stand up. Where was she now? And what was that rumbling sound?

“…ryl!”

Huh?

“Meryl!”

Meryl turned around. She saw a blue and red streak, clouds of dust, and something with way too many legs barreling towards her. Before she could scream, something grabbed her by the collar and hoisted her up onto the back of a moving thomas. “Hold on!”

It was Vash. He was riding at full speed away from an uncomfortably large worm, one at least as tall as the thomas. Meryl clung to Vash immediately. “Hi!” she yelped.

“Hi!” Vash glanced over his shoulder at her and beamed. “How are you?”

“Confused and alarmed!” Vash laughed brightly; she couldn’t help smiling back. “Please tell me you have a plan.”

“Working on it!”

Meryl wished she could speed the planning process along, but everything was happening so fast. She didn’t even know where they were. She glanced over her shoulder, then immediately looked back ahead. Nope! Not doing that again –

“I need your help,” Vash said. “I think I can lose it, but I need you to watch our backs.”

Damn it.

But Meryl steeled herself to look again, because as awful as looking at the thing was, having it bite into her would be much worse. “What am I looking for?”

“Let me know when it’s pouncing at us. Not about to, actually pouncing. I need it to be committed.”

So, they were playing chicken with a worm. Sure! Sounds reasonable. “Okay.” Meryl was surprised by how calm her voice sounded. “Okay, I’ll do my best.”

Holding onto that calm got a lot harder when Vash steered them into a rock field. He had to slow down to steer, which let the worm get closer. “Say when!” he called.

Meryl looked back again. Yep; it was still awful. Too many legs, eyes, the mandibles…She tried to look past the individually horrifying bits and pay attention to its body language. She’d seen the smaller ones jump before (right at her face, of course), and tried to imagine that movement on a bigger body.

Whatever you’re planning, Vash, I hope it works!

The worm’s body lowered.

This is it!

It started to spring.

“Now!” Meryl called once all its feet were off the ground.

Vash made a sudden, hard turn out of the worm’s line of attack. Instead of pouncing on them, it landed on—and instinctively started attacking—one of the rocks instead. Vash urged his thomas back up to full speed as he rode them away from the worm and into a denser part of the rock field. The crunching of stone and frustrated trilling grew more distant, then silent.

The worm didn’t follow them.

Vash looked over his shoulder, then sighed with relief. “Geez, that was a close one!” He hopped off the thomas and held out his arms. “Are you okay?”

“I think so!” Meryl climbed off the thomas and into his arms for a hug. The fact that he could hold her off the ground drove home again how tall he was now. “Good to see you!”

“Good to see you, too!” Vash was all bright smiles as he put her down. “You know, I was just thinking that it was getting kind of lonely out – “

A sudden squawk from the thomas was all the warning they got before another large worm skittered from behind a rock.

Vash screamed. Meryl screamed. Both of them reached for their respective weapons, but before either of them could do anything about it –

Bang!

The shot ripped through the worm’s head, dropping it instantly.

Vash started at his pistol in confusion, then looked at Meryl. She hadn’t even had the chance to draw. When both of them looked in the direction the bullet had come from…

Meryl recognized him instantly. He may have picked up a new weapon, but the sunglasses, bad posture, and lack of socks were unmistakable.

“Nico!” Vash said happily.

“You!” Meryl said, furious.

…and wolfwood

More sand, more rocks, and the distant sound of voices greeted him on the other side. Still got work to do, I guess.

Wolfwood started jogging towards the voices. The conversation grew clearer as he rounded a corner. One voice was definitely Vash’s. “…just thinking that it was getting kind of lonely out – “

Something crept out from behind a rock, and it wasn’t Vash.

Wolfwood drew his rifle as the warning cry of a thomas echoed over the rock field, followed by startled screams. He’d hunted enough worms that he knew where to shoot, and he did not hesitate.

Bang!

Perfect shot. Down in one.

Wolfwood sighed with relief and lowered the rifle. He approached the body, ready to start a lecture on how Vash couldn’t possibly lecture him about shooting something he ate, but froze when he saw two people. Vash, of course, calling his name with a delighted look in his eyes. Next to him…

“You!”

…Meryl freaking Stryfe.

Meryl?! Wolfwood thought.

Then, Oh, good, they’re both okay.

Then, Oh, she’s gonna –

Which was when Meryl’s fist collided with his gut.

Wolfwood doubled over. He was pretty used to pain, but Meryl clearly had a lot of pent-up rage over July, because that punch hurt. Vash scrambled to put himself between them. “What was that?!” he yelped.

“It’s fine,” Wolfwood managed to choke out. “It’s fine. I deserved that.” He gripped Vash’s shoulder as he caught his breath. “Damn, short stack, didn’t know you had a right hook like that.”

“Call me short stack again and I’ll aim lower,” Meryl snapped.

He believed her. “Yep. Heard.”

Vash looked between them with an anxious, baffled expression. “So…I guess you two know each other?” he squeaked.

“Yes,” Wolfwood said.

“Unfortunately,” Meryl added.

Okay, yeah, this was gonna be an issue. “Hey, Vash, think you could give me and Miss Stryfe a second?” he said. “We’ve got some shit we need to hash out.”

Vash looked at Meryl warily. “You’re not going to hit him again, are you?”

Meryl looked like she was considering it. Fortunately, she finally noticed that Vash had the look of a kid whose parents were arguing in public, and her expression softened. “I won’t hit him again,” she said reassuringly. “I promise.”

Vash still looked wary, but nodded. “I’m gonna make sure Gertrude is okay,” he said. “Just let me know when you’re done…hashing.”

Meryl was all smiles as Vash backed away. The second he turned around to check on the thomas, her smile dropped and she grabbed Wolfwood’s arm to drag him further out of earshot. “What are you doing here?!” she hissed.

Wolfwood bit back the urge to get defensive. She had every right to be suspicious of him and he knew it. “I didn’t ask to,” he said. “Those portals just keep taking me to him, and that punk isn’t capable of staying out of trouble. What am I supposed to do?”

“I thought he wasn’t any of your business anymore. That’s what you said in July.” Her eyes narrowed. “Does he know about any of that?”

…yeah, screw not being defensive. “First off, I’m only in this mess because I turned around in July,” he said tersely. “Second, how much have you told him? Does he know you’re a reporter from the future, trying to get a scoop on Vash the Stampede?”

“I…” Meryl’s cheeks went pink, and she suddenly couldn’t make full eye contact. Wolfwood allowed himself to be a little smug about that. “No,” she admitted grumpily. “I was using an alias until the last time I saw him.”

Something Vash had asked him a few portals ago suddenly made sense. “Claudia?” he guessed. “He asked if I knew anyone with that name.”

Meryl nodded. “And I guess you’re Nico?”

Wolfwood’s gut twisted. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him to hear that name come from her. “How much did he tell you?”

“Not much. Just that you’re a friend and you were going to help him run away after the Ship Five black box was unlocked.” She crossed her arms. “Why?”

“Because they…” He suddenly realized how irrational his fears would’ve sounded to a sheltered college girl who, far as he knew, had never seen Ship Three’s failings. “I was worried about him. Long story. Look…” He glanced Vash’s way to make sure he hadn’t started eavesdropping. “Far as Vash is concerned, we’re all on the same team. He respects us both and fighting’s just going to upset him. So, let’s get him through whatever mess he’s in now, and we can sort out all the rest once that’s done.” He held out his hand to her. “I won’t be a brat about it if you’re not.”

Meryl started down at his hand, sighed, and shook it. “Fine,” she said. “Agreed.”

“Good.” Wolfwood turned back to Vash. “Okay, we’re sorted.”

Vash led the thomas over. “That’s good. She’s…” He paused when the thomas jerked her head up, trilling quietly in concern. “…still really jumpy, so we should probably get moving. Mating season and all…the worms are pretty bold out here.”

“Sounds right. Speaking of…” Wolfwood walked back to the corpse of the one he’d shot. “You got a sled or something?”

Meryl’s face paled. “We are not taking that thing with us,” she said.

“Hey, this is a perfectly good worm. Lots of protein on here. If we don’t eat it, someone else might want it.”

Vash smiled sheepishly at Meryl. “He has a point.”

Wolfwood expected her to put up more of a fight. She still looked queasy, but managed to look at the body without being actually sick. “Are you sure it’s dead?” she asked.

“Trust me, it’s dead.” He leaned over and made one of the thing’s many arms wave at her. “See?”

Meryl huffed irately. “Okay, fine. But you two butcher it. I’ve had enough of chopping up worms.”

“Fine by me.” Wolfwood caught the rope Vash tossed to him. “You’ll be thanking me when we can have some nice steaks tonight.”

They got the corpse trussed up and tied to Gertrude before they started walking. “It’s a straight shot to the next town,” Vash said. “I just keep getting slowed down by worm attacks. It’s kind of flattering that they think I’d make a good mating gift, but I prefer to keep my head on.” He laughed, but it sounded forced. “So, uh…how do you two know each other?”

He was probably feeling them out, making sure that they weren’t about to start fighting again. Wolfwood did want to keep the peace, he really did. He didn’t have anything against Meryl Stryfe, and Vash would be a lot happier if they weren’t at each other’s throats. But…

“Oh, she hit me with her car,” Wolfwood said.

…old habits died hard.

Meryl’s face immediately went red. “I did not - !”

“Sorry, you’re right. My mistake.” He turned to Vash again. “She hit me with the trailer attached to her car. Big difference.”

“Not on purpose!”

“Which is really impressive, seeing how I was the only thing around for miles.”

Meryl scowled at him. “What were you even doing out there anyway? On foot?”

“My bike broke down.” Wolfwood crossed himself with exaggerated grief. “Rest in peace, my darling Angelina.”

“You named it?!”

“She was my only friend at the time. Of course I did.” He wasn’t really joking about that, either, and quickly covered that fact up by moving the conversation along. “Anyway, she apologized for the attempted vehicular manslaughter by letting me hitch a ride…”

“More like he wormed his way into traveling with me,” Meryl corrected.

“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.” Wolfwood noticed a change to Vash’s smile. It looked weirdly fond. “What’s with the face?”

“Nothing, just…you seem like you traveled together for a while.”

Wolfwood exchanged a glance with Meryl. It was true; they had been together weeks. And it had barely taken them any time to fall back into the old rhythms of bickering. He’d never say it out loud to her, but he’d actually missed it. She was probably the only person his age that he’d been able to tolerate for the first time since the orphanage.

So of course he’d messed that up in every way he could. He had a talent for that.

“I don’t know how you put up with him,” Meryl said. “He snores. And he doesn’t have any pitch.”

Vash looked confused. “I like his singing voice…?”

“Yeah, I was being bad on purpose,” Wolfwood admitted. “Sorry.”

“You…” Meryl rolled her eyes. “Guess I should’ve seen that coming. Okay, let’s hear it, then.”

“Huh?”

“Your real singing voice, if it’s so good.”

Wolfwood wished he could say that he didn’t want to do it out of his usual stubbornness. Really, he found himself feeling inexplicably embarrassed at the thought of singing for real in front of Meryl. It just felt so personal. “You’re not the boss of me.”

“C’mon, you don’t get to hold out on me now! Let’s hear it!”

Vash added to the pressure: “Ho, ho, the rattlin’ bog, the bog down in the valley-o…”

“Nope.” Wolfwood picked up the pace to a steady jog. “Not today, you two!”

Vash, of course, kept pace easily. While guiding Gertrude. And jogging backwards. Show-off. “Ho, ho, the rattlin’ bog, the bog down in the valley-o!”

“You’re a bog!” When he glanced over his shoulder, Meryl was scrambling to keep up, but had a wicked grin on her face. “This is your fault, you know!”

Meryl’s grin widened.

Wolfwood wished he could take it back, say that he hadn’t missed this at all, actually. But he’d be lying to himself, and he knew it.

This was the most comfortable he’d felt in a while, for the few seconds before his guilt kicked back in.

Whenever Meryl wasn’t keeping an eye out for worms, she kept an eye on Wolfwood and Vash.

There was something different about how the two of them acted around each other. They had been friendly before, the fallout of the Windmill Village aside, but this was something else. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was until Wolfwood lit a cigarette and tossed Vash the lighter. “Forgot this last time,” he said. “Since you’ve been taking such good care of it…”

Vash cradled it carefully in his right hand. “You don’t have to…”

“’Course I do. Tradition or whatever.” His tone wasn’t his usual inability to take anything seriously; he actually sounded kind of fond. Gentle.

It was a tone she’d heard before, she realized.

They’d stopped in a town that could barely be called a town, more like a small cluster of people living and doing business at a bus stop and recharging station. They’d been waiting for the car to charge, talking about nothing in particular, when two kids had tried to swipe something from Wolfwood’s pockets. They hadn’t gotten far with their fistful of single bills before Roberto intercepted them. Meryl remembered how terrified the kids had been at the sight of him, how Vash had tried to defuse the situation by speaking softly and crouching down to their level. “It’s okay,” he’d said gently. “You’re not in trouble. Just give them back. You really shouldn’t steal from guys like him.”

Meryl had taken that to mean broke. Before Meryl could comment on how Wolfwood was, in fact, so broke that he’d taken to mooching off strangers, he’d crouched down next to Vash and took the bills from the taller of the kids. “Well, this is something, isn’t it? Only three left. Guess that means this one is yours…this one yours…” He’d pressed one bill into each of the kid’s hands and smiled. “And this one is mine. Sound fair?”

She remembered how gentle his tone had been—even more gentle than Vash’s somehow. How the kids had looked stunned, then thrilled, even muttering thank-yous before running off. How Wolfwood had carefully folded up the last bill and tucked it in his jacket before fixing Roberto with a glare. “Next time you see kids who look like that take anything from me,” he’d said, “you didn’t actually see shit. Anything in grabbing distance is a tithe. Got it?”

He'd tried to brush it off after that, act like he hadn’t done anything strange, but Vash hadn’t been able to stop smiling at him. And Meryl felt like she’d seen…something there. It was like there was a second Wolfwood hiding behind the cigarette smoke and sardonic banter, a Wolfwood who genuinely seemed to care about two children in need. If the lollipop exchange with the Beast had been a show, this was the real thing. She’d wondered what it would take to see that Wolfwood again.

And here he was, walking side by side with Vash.

“We’re not going too fast for you, are we?” Vash asked suddenly.

“No, I’m fine,” Meryl said. They did have a longer stride than her, but she’d been content with the gap between them. It let her observe. “Thanks for asking, though.”

Vash slowed down anyway until he was walking next to her. “Is your skin doing okay?”

Good question. Meryl reached up to gently touch her face. “Just a little flakey, I think. Nothing serious.”

“What happened to her skin?” Wolfwood asked.

“Plant pod fumes,” Vash said. “I was in a tough spot. She went through a contaminated zone to get to me.”

Wolfwood’s eyebrows shot up. He stared at Meryl’s face as if checking to make sure the skin hadn’t melted off. “You know he’s probably immune to that shit, right? Wait…are you?”

“Yeah, actually,” Vash said. “It wasn’t that kind of tough spot, though.” He looked at Meryl apologetically. “Sorry.”

“For what?” Meryl said. “I chose to go in.” She’d do it all over again if she had to. “It was a calculated risk.”

Wolfwood rolled his eyes. “Calculated risk. You two are both going to die in spectacularly stupid ways one day,” he said.

“And let me guess, you’ll be dying of old age?” Meryl shot back.

“Nope. I’ll just be dying in a normal way. Bullet or…” He smirked. “Vehicular manslaughter.”

I’m going to kill him, she thought, but the distressed look on Vash’s face kept her from throwing a handful of sand in Wolfwood’s stupid face. “C’mon, don’t talk like that,” he said. “You’re going to get so much older. You’ve got a lot of time left.”

“How do you know? How old do you think I am?”

Vash paused. Thought about it. “…can I be honest?” he said. “Pretty much everyone between 20 and 40 looks the same age to me, more or less. Humans are all either younger than me and look it or younger than me and don’t. And since neither of you are going gray…”

“How old are you?” Meryl asked suddenly.

“…uh…” Vash sucked on his teeth. “Pushing one hundred? I kinda lost track. I’ll let you know when I can tell you what year it is.”

Meryl wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He looked the same as when she’d seen him at one hundred and fifty. The same as he had in the oil town. She’d known him as a child, a teenager, but never when he was actually in her age range. Only when he looked like he was.

How does that feel? To look in the mirror and be older than how you look? She was mistaken for a teenager all the time, but that was only a four-year difference, if you wanted to be technical about it. This was a matter of decades. Not even a gray hair to show for it. Actually, the sides of his head looked darker, now that she thought about it…

“Maybe you wouldn’t lose track if you spent less time out here,” Wolfwood interrupted suddenly, gesturing to the seemingly endless sandscapes around them. “Pretty sure the scavengers gave up keeping track of time years ago. Can’t tell one day from another in this mess.”

“Sure you can,” Vash said. “You just have to make sure one interesting thing happens every day.”

“No. No interesting things. Your definition of interesting usually involves bullets.”

“Or running into a sandstorm without gear,” Meryl added.

Wolfwood did a double-take. “He did what?”

“Oh, hey, I think I see a landmark over there!” Vash said as if he weren’t being scolded. “Hang on, I’m gonna check.” He tossed Gertrude’s reins to Meryl and jogged towards a nearby boulder. Meryl couldn’t see anything that might make it a landmark. It looked like every other boulder to her.

“When did this happen with the sandstorm?” Wolfwood asked with narrowed eyes.

“Three years after the Big Fall, I think he said? I’ll have to check my notes.” Meryl grimaced in agreement when Wolfwood pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. “Yeah, he can be a handful. He was trying to help, though.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it. Trying to help’s going to get him killed one day.”

Meryl thought about the tank in July and swallowed hard. “Maybe,” she said. “Do you think we can stop it?”

Wolfwood shrugged. His dark glasses made it hard to see his expression. “Don’t know,” he said. “Not sure what else we can try, though. Least it seems like we’re moving forward, not back.”

Meryl nodded. “We should figure out a timeline soon,” she said. “And what we should tell him. Did you write anything down?”

“What do you think? Reckon you probably took enough notes for the both of us…”

“Hey, guys!” Vash yelled. “Check this out!”

Meryl exchanged a glance with Wolfwood before they jogged over to where Vash was. He’d scooped aside the sand to reveal something etched into the rock: several names, including his. “I almost cut my hand carving that in,” he said fondly. “Brad gave me an earful…” He tapped the start of a B that was peeking up through the dirt. “…we were still able to talk him into putting his name down.”

It must have been carved there a long time ago, since there were so many names from Ship Three. “When did they stop leaving?” she asked.

“Not long after my arm. Things were too dangerous. They’ve been focusing on Geoplant research since.”

“But you’re still here.”

Vash shrugged. “I just think I can do more good out here.” He stood up and dusted the sand off his knees. “We should get into town before sundown if we keep moving.”

The prospect of being back in civilization was tempting, but Meryl found herself lingering for a second. Looking at Vash’s name, once covered by sand with the others. It would probably be covered up again by the next sandstorm. A piece of history.

Does he realize that’s what he is? How strange must that be.

It sure explained some of the sadness in Vash’s eyes. She didn’t think you could live that long without picking some up.

They were able to sell the worm carcass when they got back into town for enough to get them a hotel room with some to spare. Vash insisted on giving Wolfwood the leftovers, since he’d been the one to shoot it. For once in his life, Wolfwood was actually hesitant to take money—not just because Vash probably needed it more, but because he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

Meryl had a few ideas.

“We don’t know what kind of situation we’ll be walking into next,” she pointed out as she marched ahead of him to the general store. “It’s better if we’re prepared.”

Wolfwood couldn’t argue. “Might just want to buy out the whole medical section,” he said. “With the track record he’s had…”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

“I can’t, either.” Wolfwood scanned the store as they stepped in. Pretty decent stock; they wouldn’t be able to cover every bullshit situation Vash might’ve gotten himself into, but they could cover at least the basics of not dying. And they had cigarettes, which were a necessity as far as he was concerned. He double-checked the money they had left and got to work…or at least he tried to. His gaze kept drifting back over to Meryl as she moved through the store, eyes sharp and focused, darting from that notebook she always carried with her to the shelves.

Wolfwood wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with her.

It wasn’t just that they had found themselves in a batshit situation that would be hard to talk about on a normal day. It was everything else. His betrayals heaped on betrayals. The fact that watching her, actually thinking about her for longer than five seconds, made him feel even shittier than usual. There was something about Meryl that felt like looking in a mirror and realizing that he could be a lot better than he was.

She wasn’t like him at all: two living parents, far as he could tell, safe and money-stable enough childhood that she’d been able to go to college, not experimented on and forced to join Knives’ murder squad. But at the end of the day, she was just…a human. Down in the same muck and mire as all of them. But she’d kept her principles. It was why she’d followed Vash into this mess.

If she could do it, what was his excuse?

“Do we have enough money for this?”

Wolfwood nearly jumped out of his skin. Meryl was suddenly standing right in front of him with a notebook in her hands. “Geez, where did you come from?!”

“A few yarz away,” she replied, deadpan and unimpressed. “Can I get it? I’m running out of paper.”

She was holding a notebook. Wolfwood ran through the mental tally. “Yeah, sure, fine. What do you need it for?”

“One of us has to get the details sorted out. I think better when I write.”

Wolfwood was tempted to keep the combative dialogue going, but he had to admit she was onto something. He’d take whatever would help him make sense of this mess. “I think that’s the last thing, though,” he said as he took stock of their purchases. “Might want to get out of here before Vash gets into trouble.”

“He said he was going to take a bath…”

“And since when has that stopped trouble from finding him?”

Meryl couldn’t argue.

They paid (after a bit of haggling, because Wolfwood was already shameless and even more so when he knew he’d never be seeing the guy again) and made their way back to the hotel. There were no bullets flying when they walked in the door, but Wolfwood wasn’t going to completely calm down until he saw Vash was intact. He did knock on the door first, though. “Hey, Blondie, you decent?”

No reply.

Wolfwood didn’t bother waiting; he just went for the room key and stepped in. The room had three beds haphazardly shoved along the walls, and one of them was occupied. Vash was a person-shaped lump of blankets with his tufts of blond hair sticking out. When Wolfwood carefully approached, he could hear him breathing slowly and deeply.

“Is he…?” Meryl whispered.

Before Wolfwood could reply, Vash started suddenly, rolling over onto his side to stare at them. Wolfwood tensed, his body ready to start dodging before his brain remembered that even a half-asleep Vash didn’t have a kill instinct and would wait before he started shooting. Vash’s eyes darted between him and Meryl, and he quickly relaxed. “Oh, hey, guys,” he said sleepily.

“Hey, yourself,” Meryl replied. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just tired.” Vash lay back down. “I’m gonna sleep early.”

“Are you sure you’re not hungry?”

“Mmm, more tired. Eat later.”

Wolfwood understood. You had to sleep with one eye open when you were out in the wilderness, which meant you really weren’t sleeping at all. He always slept like a brick that first night in a real bed behind a door that locked. “All right, you sleep,” he said. He stepped closer to rustle Vash’s still-damp hair. “We’ll bring you up something for later, okay?”

“Mmkay.” Vash yawned. His eyes stayed part-open as he looked at them, like a content housecat. “I’m happy you’re both here.”

“Happy to be here…”

Something caught Wolfwood’s attention as Vash shifted in bed. He had a scar on his shoulder, one that hadn’t been there last time, but that Wolfwood remembered from the future. It was a jagged line of thick scar tissue from Heaven only knew what incident…

But when he blinked, suddenly it…wasn’t that. It was still there, but thinner, tidier. Wolfwood remembered the neat precision of Vash’s amputation site, of his own ankle stitches. Ship Three must’ve been able to tend to it…had they not been able to before?

Suddenly, the memory of that other scar was a lot harder to grasp. He had to really think to recall how it had looked…or how he thought it had looked…

What the hell?

“Everything okay?” Meryl whispered.

Vash was dead asleep again, so Wolfwood couldn’t ask him about the injury. He wasn’t sure how to ask, anyway. He tried to shake off the conflicting memories. “Yeah, he’s just wiped,” he said. “Let him sleep. We can get food, and…” He grimaced. “…sort this shit out.”

Or try to, at least. If he hadn’t already known this was going to be complicated, the conflicting memories of that scar confirmed it.

At least he had enough money left to get booze. God knew he’d probably need a drink.

“So.” Meryl sat down across the corner table from Wolfwood. “Here’s what I think we should do. You write down everything that’s happened to you so far. Date if you know it, couple of sentences to say what happened, in order by jump. Then we can compare things and start making a timeline.” She tore a page out of her old notebook and passed it to Wolfwood along with a pencil. “There might be a pattern to all this.”

Wolfwood grunted and took the pencil. He’d tucked his sunglasses away in his jacket, giving her a view of the intense look in his eyes as he started writing. He had shockingly tidy handwriting, but he wrote like he had to think about how each letter was formed. At least he was taking this seriously. “You’re gonna write shit out for me in English, right?” he said. “Not scribbles?”

Meryl rolled her eyes. “It’s shorthand, but sure.” She flipped open her notebook, took a second to appreciate the smoothness of the unmarred paper, and started writing her own notes down. Maybe Wolfwood would spot something she’d missed in the moment.

They finished off their notes and traded them off. Meryl was impressed to see that Wolfwood really had tried.

Date: ??? Vash Age: 5-ish Location: Spaceship, Vash + Knives Room Notes: Spooked them a bit when I fell out of their closet. Left after that.

Date: Close to Big Fall Vash Age: 10-ish Location: Ship Three, Jail Cell Notes: There three days, had to hide in bathroom. Vash not eating at first, convinced him to start. They let him out after he helped with a Plant thing. Left not long after.

“Jail?!” Mery repeated disbelievingly. “What do you mean, jail?!”

“What do you mean attempted kidnapping?!” Wolfwood shot back. “Why the hell’d they take him back out there again?!”

“I…” Meryl was taken aback by how angry Wolfwood sounded. “Vash said it was his idea…jail?!”

“Yeah, they had him locked up and in handcuffs. For weeks, if I counted the tallies right…”

Tallies.

The room Vash had fallen asleep in. The walls covered in tallies. The way he’d never told her why he went there.

“Wolfwood, did they lock him up after the Fall?” she said. “Did I…?”

I left him with them. I thought he’d be safe and they…

A calloused hand rested on hers. Meryl’s gaze shot up to meet Wolfwood’s. The anger was gone, replaced by a gentle expression he’d never directed at her. “Stryfe, you didn’t know,” he said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

It felt like she was looking at a different person: the man who let orphans steal from him and treated Vash so gently. Not the Undertaker she’d met in the sands.

The moment passed suddenly. Wolfwood may not have put his glasses back on, but his eyes became closed-off as if he had. “Look, clearly there’s a lot more to all of this, so why don’t we just…start over. Describe it. You saw Vash as a baby?”

Meryl took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah...yeah, nothing bad really happened. I was out of there pretty quick.”

Wolfwood nodded solemnly. “Was he fat?” he asked.

“I…” A startled laugh burst out of her. “You know what? Yeah, he was a pretty chunky baby. He was cute. Happy to see me.”

“Probably happier to see you than he was to see me.” Wolfwood grimaced. “I didn’t mean to scare him. Didn’t even know he was there at first, or what was going on. Knives threw a toy at me, but I think I had that coming.”

The mental image would’ve been funny if it hadn’t been for everything else Millions Knives had done. Wolfwood must have been thinking the same thing. “You saw the Fall?” he added quietly. Meryl nodded. “What happened?”

Humanity had it coming.

That was what the Eye had taught. They were cast down for their sins, and their only escape from the hell they’d brought on themselves was death. Hearing Chapels or Bluesummers talk about it always made his skin crawl.

Meryl’s description, stripped of the sense of righteousness and inevitability, was much worse.

It wasn’t just the destruction, the fire, the way even she hadn’t escaped unscathed (seeing how fresh the scar still was chilled him, it really did). It was how she talked about Vash. Just a kid, blaming himself, wanting to be left out there to die.

But Meryl hadn’t let him.

“You know, he asked me once if I was an angel?” Wolfwood said. “I’m starting to think he got that idea from you.” He couldn’t blame Vash for that, and not necessarily because it was Meryl. Wolfwood had thought Miss Melanie was one for a second when he first regained consciousness at Hopeland. It made sense to latch onto the ones who saved you.

“He shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions,” Meryl said glumly. “I left him with those people…I know, I know, I didn’t realize they’d do that to him, I just don’t understand.” She rubbed her eyes fiercely. “What happened with you exactly? Did they really have him locked up?”

He hated to squash the last bit of hope she had in that place, but… “Yeah,” Wolfwood sighed. “Yeah, they did.”

They kept a child handcuffed and locked away because he was a Plant. They were really that afraid of him.

It just didn’t make any sense.

“That’s so…” Meryl gripped her pen so tightly that her hand ached. “That’s awful.”

Wolfwood gruntled in agreement. He’d kept his voice calm as he spoke, but she could see the anger in his eyes. “I wanted to smash that window and run for it so many times…I wish I had. Don’t know what I would’ve done, but...” He shook his head. “Stryfe, they let him out after he healed a Plant. Let him out and put him to work. I’m not gonna act like I never lifted a finger at the orphanage, everyone pitched in, but we didn’t lock kids in the basement if they couldn’t help.” He snuffed out his cigarette and lit another one. He had to use the bar’s complimentary match packs, since Vash still had his lighter; the fierce motion of him striking match to starter underlined his anger. “Some perfect execution of orders bullshit…”

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s…long story. I’m being harsh.” He sighed out a cloud of smoke. “Pisses me off, is all.”

Several pieces suddenly fit. The kids he’d given money to. The way he’d always seemed at ease around kids whenever they encountered them. His mention of having grown up in an orphanage. It was possible he’d seen Vash as a child, afraid and abandoned, and it had triggered something in him that adult Vash hadn’t. Maybe.

I’ll write that down later. It felt important.

“But it looks like they put him to work once he was out,” Wolfwood said as he skimmed over Meryl’s notes. “That’s why he was out there, right?”

Meryl swallowed hard, the events of those days suddenly cast in a different light. “Yeah,” she said. “I guess so.”

Wolfwood never thought he’d be so grateful for a woman who bothered the shit out of him and had done him bodily harm multiple times, but…thank God for Meryl Stryfe.

Wolfwood still remembered the kids who’d first reached out to him at Hopeland, the older boys and girls who let him know it was safe just by being a listening ear and a silent but protective presence. He could easily see her being that for Vash. Even before all of this, she’d been in his corner. Wolfwood could remember her pacing on Ship Three, waiting for Vash to wake up, insisting that there was an explanation for what they’d seen and that she wanted to hear it from him. We can’t just jump to conclusions. We’re journalists, right?

She was going to die a spectacularly stupid death if she kept acting like Vash. Wolfwood stood by that. But she’d handled everything better than he would’ve, and he was glad for it.

“You’re the one who taught him to make all that stuff with paper?” He still had the container with the paper star in it, tucked away in a pocket where his extra vials used to go. It was a much lighter weight. “Neat trick.”

Meryl nodded. “I wish I’d done more,” she said. “Maybe I could’ve talked to Brad about how Vash was feeling, then he wouldn’t have worked so hard for as long as he had. They seemed willing to listen when he got sick.”

“That was your next jump, right? You can tell me about that. Not much happened in mine…”

Meryl shook her head. “Tell me about it anyway,” she said. “I want to know.”

From the way she looked at him, her curiosity was about Wolfwood, not Vash. The sharpness of her eyes cut through the still-glum look on her face.

Don’t dig too deep, Short Stack. You won’t like what you find.

But he told her anyway.

It couldn’t have been all bad.

That was the conclusion Meryl came to by the time Wolfwood was done. She knew phrasing it that way wouldn’t sound good, so she tried a different angle.

“I don’t think they hated him. I don’t think they were trying to be malicious.” Still not great; Wolfwood leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, his eyes going closed-off and cold. “I’m not saying it absolves him…”

“You and him are the same damn person sometimes, you know that, right? You and your…” He grabbed the matches and lit another cigarette. “…extenuating circumstances, shit…”

“You don’t think it matters?”

“I think outcomes matter. The outcome is that he was running himself ragged because they only started treating him good when they could get something out of him. The rest is just noise.”

Meryl had to chew on that one for a second. “You’re right,” she said finally. “Outcomes matter. Sometimes they matter the most. But you have to look at everything if you want the truth.”

“Truth.” Wolfwood took a long drag off his cigarette. “That’s what matters to you?”

Meryl nodded. “And I think the truth is that they treated Vash primarily like a Plant because they didn’t know how else to treat him. And treating him that way hurt him. But I think they were learning to treat him differently. I saw it happen when he got sick.”

“Did you?”

Meryl thought about the way Brad and Luida had reacted to Vash getting sick, how far it was from the heartlessness that had led to him being locked away. “I did.”

So, they’d let him stay behind and they hadn’t shamed him when he’d spoken his mind. It was the bare minimum, but Wolfwood had to admit, Meryl hadn’t lied.

“Good to know he’s always been a pushover,” Wolfwood said. “Shit’s ground-in.”

“He’s not…” Meryl paused. “Okay, he is. But can you blame him?”

“Guess not.” He twirled a match between his fingers. “Don’t know what he was doing, going back to that cell. Unless he was trying to punish himself again…”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why else would he do it?”

“That’s where you met him, right? He had the bathroom door cracked open in there and in his bedroom. I think he was hoping you’d come back. He wanted to see you again.”

That was worse, in a way. Vash trying to punish himself for shit that wasn’t his fault was normal. Vash waiting for him to come back when he was sick and scared, not knowing that Wolfwood had no way of making it there…

Shit.

“I’m not trying to make you feel guilty,” Meryl said. “I’m just saying…it wasn’t him punishing himself. At least, I don’t think so. So that’s better.”

Wolfwood grunted in response and put the match down. “Wouldn’t have been able to do anything you didn’t do,” he said as he pulled out another cigarette. “And you made less of a mess with those two than I did.”

“About his arm? What happened? Were you there when it happened?”

He struck the match and lit his cigarette. “No,” he said. “I wish I had been.”

He could’ve prevented a lot of bullshit if he had.

I thought they were going to kill him.

It was a sentence that made her feel physically ill. She couldn’t understand. Meryl had seen how Brad and Luida had treated him before; even if they had backslid into viewing him as a Plant, a danger, not as Vash…

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“I was sure when it was happening.” Wolfwood said. “Last time I saw someone look like that, I ended up with a bullet in me…” He grimaced, as if he hadn’t meant to say that. “You learn to look out for these things.”

That was a very loaded sentence. Meryl decided to save that for later and keep her focus on Vash. “But they seemed better a few months later.”

Wolfwood’s fingers drummed against the table. “Yeah, I guess…seeing Vash like that might’ve jarred them back to their senses. That or I hit Brad hard enough to make him see sense…”

“You hit Brad?!”

“After yelling at the two of them, yeah.” Wolfwood shook his head, bared his teeth in a self-mocking smile. “Probably for the best you handled them more than I did.”

Meryl was…she wasn’t sure if appalled was the right word. It sounded like the entire situation had been a poorly-handled mess, but if the results had been positive, could she really scold him? “I take it you got in trouble for that,” she said.

“Yeah, they locked me up for a bit. Vash ran off to find Knives while I was in there. He asked for me when they brought him back, so they let me out. He…” Wolfwood took a deep breath. “He wasn’t…doing well. With any of it. Did he tell you about what happened?”

“With his arm, or with Tesla?”

“So both, then.” Wolfwood clenched his jaw. “I don’t know how he trusts any of us after that.”

Meryl nodded. She wondered what kind of person Tesla would’ve been. If she would have been able to forgive humans or not.

“They were going to let him go with me, if they wanted,” Wolfwood admitted. “Brad told Vash to be angry with him for as long as he needed. Nice sentiment, but…” He shook his head. “Just don’t see how they couldn’t figure it out sooner.”

Meryl understood what he meant, even agreed. At the very least, Vash might still have his arm if they had. But still… “It may have been soon enough to help with other things,” Meryl said. “They really did seem different when I saw them again.”

“Different like how?”

She thought about Luida’s fierce protectiveness, the way Brad held Vash after the attempted kidnapping. How much more comfortable Vash had seemed around them. “Like a family.”

There was a lot to think about for one evening of events, but he couldn’t get one detail out of his head.

“You shot the guy?” he said. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Wolfwood grinned. “Look at you go. Not a city girl newbie anymore.”

Meryl’s face went red, but she looked genuinely embarrassed and not annoyed. “It was a lucky shot. He was right in front of me.”

“Still. Good for you, Derringer Meryl.”

Wolfwood thought he saw Meryl smile, just for a second, before her face went serious again. “I’m glad I didn’t kill him,” she admitted. “Vash was there, and I don’t…I don’t know how I’d feel if I did.” She knotted her fingers together anxiously. “I don’t know if I’d be able to handle it. Death is just so permanent, you know? I don’t think you should hand it out casually.”

Again, with the two of them being the same person. “Even to defend yourself?” Wolfwood asked carefully.

Meryl chewed on her lower lip as she thought about it. “…if it came down to my life or theirs,” she said, “I’d pick mine. If it was them or Vash, I’d definitely pick Vash. But I’d feel terrible about it, and it wouldn’t be my first choice. That just feels too much like Millions Knives, you know? Going for the most extreme option first and not trying anything else.”

She wasn’t wrong. That was probably why the words stung so much.

“Guess I’m not really cut out for this, huh?” Meryl said.

Wolfwood sighed and reached for another cigarette. “Trust me,” he said. “You don’t want to be the kind of person who is.”

Meryl wished she could’ve been there for Wolfwood’s next jump. Not to help protect Vash necessarily—it seemed like Wolfwood had that under control—but because their conversation afterwards sounded fascinating. It killed her that she was only getting Wolfwood’s definitely biased retelling.

Then again, there was a lot she could learn from it about Wolfwood. She’d even started writing some things down as he spoke. She was finally getting the curtain pulled back on the mysterious Undertaker, and there was no way she was going to let any of the important details slip.

“Seriously, how do you even know what any of that says?” Wolfwood said suddenly. “That’s gibberish.”

Meryl looked down at her notes. “Shorthand,” she corrected again. “It saves paper lets me write faster. It helps if you think of it like a code.” She wrote Wolfwood’s name in shorthand and showed it to him. “You shorten a word down to just the essential letters and write it from there. So, that part’s the W…”

“You’re insane,” Wolfwood said.

“L, f, w, o, d,” she kept going, ignoring the incredulous look on his face. “Some symbols also double as whole words. You figure it out from context.”

“Where the hell do you learn something like this?”

“Books,” she said. “And in college when I was studying journalism, but I had a head start since I taught myself in high school.”

He stared intensely at the writing and shook his head. “My head would explode if I tried to keep all that in there,” he said. “Seriously.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“It’s mostly a compliment. I still think you’re insane, for the record.”

“I can live with that.” Meryl was surprised how pleased she felt. She’d been angry at Wolfwood just a few hours ago, and now they were almost talking like they could tolerate each other. When had that happened? I have to get back on track. I can’t be too friendly with him, not when I still don’t know what his deal is. “Do you think he was telling the truth, when he said guilt didn’t have anything to do with it?”

Wolfwood thought about it. “I think he thinks that. That’s what scares me the most about it. He meant every word. Even if some of it was just him deluding himself because he still feels guilty…how? How can one person feel that way? About every single damn person? How has it not killed him yet?”

Meryl’s gaze landed on her notes, on her entry for her last jump. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I really don’t.”

Wolfwood wished he could say he was surprised by Meryl’s account, but Vash was right: people loved a scapegoat. He seemed like a convenient one no matter what the situation. One detail stuck out, though.

“You’ve got some guts.”

Meryl’s eyes narrowed as she examined him, like she was looking for some kind of sarcasm or criticism underneath. “I mean it,” Wolfwood said quickly. He might not have meant to say it out loud—he’d known she would react that way—but he did mean it. “Running in there, calling them out like that…you’ve got guts, Stryfe.”

She mulled over those words for a long moment before hesitantly meeting his eyes. “You still think I’m insane though, right?” she said.

“Of course I do. Seriously…” He leaned across the table to check her face. There were still dry patches on her cheekbones and forehead. “…who runs into a building with a leaky Plant tank?”

“An insane person?”

“Exactly.” Their equilibrium seemed restored as he settled back into his chair, thank God. It had started to get awkward there for a second. “At least it’s not wasted on Vash. He actually appreciates your craziness, God help us.”

“Yeah.” Meryl checked the last of Wolfwood’s notes. She must not have read that far ahead before they started talking, because her face went pale. “Millions Knives was there?”

The name brought an instant surge of dread through him. It also brought an instant surge of anger.

“Yeah,” Wolfwood said. “Yeah, he was.”

Silence followed Wolfwood’s retelling of what happened. Meryl wasn’t sure how to fill it. Her throat was closed up by a mixture of horror and disgust. She’d seen firsthand what Millions Knives was capable of, but to hear that he’d abandoned Vash on top of that…

What did he expect Vash to do? Be grateful? How does he not realize what his brother is like, what he values? How could he just leave him in the hands of people who hurt them? He didn’t care about Vash, even before he dragged him into that tank and started tearing him apart. This had been building for a long time.

“I should’ve pulled the trigger,” Wolfwood said finally.

Meryl didn’t want to agree. She knew that losing his brother like that probably would’ve broken Vash beyond a point either of them could fix, and who knew what it would do for the future?

But that future was one where Vash ended up broken anyway.

It’s not fair.

“There has to be something we can do,” Meryl said. She stared down at the notes she’d been taking, the rough timeline she’d sketched out. “Right? There has to be something.”

Wolfwood shrugged. “I’ve been trying to get through to him,” he said, “since we’ve got rapport now and all. Figured maybe if it sinks into his head that Knives is a lost cause, he might act different in the future. I don’t know if it’s…” He hesitated. “If I tell you something, do you promise you won’t just say I’m crazy?”

“This entire situation is crazy. Hit me.”

Wolfwood hesitated again. “In July, when we were coming for you and the old man, Vash got hurt. He had to take his shirt off to get to the injury…he was covered in scars. And he has one of them by now, but it’s different. I swear, I remember it looking worse, or I…remembered it looking worse. Now I remember it looking better, except I still remember it looking bad…” He huffed irately. “Does that make sense?”

Meryl nodded slowly. “I think so…better like how?”

“Neater, I guess? Less ugly. Like he saw a real doctor about it and didn’t just slap himself back together in a hotel bathroom or something.”

“A real doctor on the ship, maybe?”

“…yeah, maybe.”

Meryl tried to think back to Ship Three, to her memories of how Vash had interacted with Brad and Luida. The harder she thought about it, the fuzzier some of the memories seemed. She remembered walking into the room, Luida standing next to Vash with one arm around his shoulders while Brad worked on his arm, the way Vash had been leaning against her slightly before he saw them…

But had it always been that way? She thought she remembered more distance between them, but…

Maybe…

Her eyes met Wolfwood’s. “Ship Three felt different,” she whispered.

Wolfwood’s frown deepened. She expected him to reach for another cigarette, but he started chewing on his thumbnail instead. “Think so,” he admitted.

“So that means…”

“That he’s still going to July, if we ended up on that thing,” Wolfwood pointed out.

“But we can change things. Make them better, or at least different. We have to keep trying.” She scanned the notes again. “We keep helping him, we make sure he goes home more, we…keep talking to him about Knives, if we can…”

“And next time I see the son of a bitch, I’m taking the shot.”

“Only if you can do it without dying,” Meryl said. Wolfwood raised an eyebrow. “What? You still want to die a normal death, don’t you?”

“…yeah, fair.” Wolfwood rubbed his eyes. “What time is it?”

Meryl glanced at the clock. They’d been down there a few hours. The last of the dinner crowd was leaving. The realization made her suddenly exhausted. “Getting late,” she said. “Maybe we should grab something for Vash and figure the rest out tomorrow.”

“Fine by me.” Wolfwood winced as he stood up. “Hope nothing else exciting happens tonight.”

Honestly, Meryl felt the same.

They were able to get a sandwich to keep in the room’s ice box. Vash was still asleep when they slipped into the room. He looked so peaceful. She couldn’t remember him looking that way in the future, no matter how deep his sleep.

It was nice to think that maybe she’d helped him feel that way.

Wolfwood woke up slowly, noticing details one at a time.

The sun was coming in the window. He was in a bed, curled up facing the wall, with all his stuff bundled up in his jacket and held to his chest. He was still in the past, and he’d run into Meryl Stryfe the day before. They’d saved Vash from worms. Wolfwood heard the slow inhale and exhale of physical exertion. He rolled over.

There was Vash, minus his prosthetic, doing handstand pushups. With just the flesh and blood arm.

“...it’s sunrise…” Wolfwood said incredulously.

Vash eeped quietly and nearly tipped over, but caught himself before he fell. “Did I wake you?” he whispered.

“Sun woke me. What are you doing?”

“Exercising. I do this every morning.”

It hit Wolfwood that Vash was still holding a perfect handstand as they were having this conversation. Barely even wobbling. He’d seen Vash go for jogs when they were travelling, but never actually witnessed the full workout. He had no idea it was this intense. “I’m surrounded by lunatics,” Wolfwood grumbled as he rolled back over. Meryl with her scribbles and Vash with whatever this was. “I’m not working out.”

Vash laughed quietly. Wolfwood could see his shadow moving on the wall as he kept doing pushups. “Thanks for the sandwich,” Vash added.

Wolfwood grumbled a you’re welcome noise and closed his eyes again.

He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, the room was brighter, and there were two voices speaking. “…what happened that you’d need something like this?”

“It’s a long story. It’s not that bad, really…”

Wolfwood was afraid to look. He rolled over anyway.

He could see them now that his brain wasn’t so fogged by drowsiness and confusion: scars he remembered from last time, scars he remembered from the future. Some stayed solid, but a few…

“Hey, Meryl, don’t cry,” Vash said reassuringly. “It’s really not that bad.”

Smaller, thinner, less ugly. A couple looked worse at first glance, but seemed to have been tended to by professionals on a second look. Maybe he’d had a safe bed to curl up in while he healed. Someone to hold his hand.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…” Meryl desperately rubbed her eyes. “I don’t like to think you got hurt.”

“That’s a risk you take being alive, isn’t it?” Vash gave Meryl a one-armed hug. “Thank you for caring. I do promise I’m okay.”

Meryl leaned into the hug, still obviously distressed. Wolfwood nursed his own fears and regrets as he watched them, thinking about the child they’d both held and wondering if there was ever a series of events where he’d be okay.

“You really need a bath,” Meryl said suddenly. Vash burst into giggles. “Seriously, how are you sweaty again already?”

“Sorry. I was exercising.”

“He’s been up since sunrise,” Wolfwood finally interjected. “I’m the only normal person in this room.” Meryl burst into incredulous giggles, which set Vash back off, too. Wolfwood rolled over to hide his own smile. “Will you two quit yapping? I’m trying to sleep, here.”

“But it’s time for breakfast!” Wolfwood’s bed creaked and bounced as Vash crossed the room and sat next to him. “Come on, up.”

“Shower, and then I’ll get up. Not a damn second before.”

“Fiiine.” Vash got back up, his footsteps headed towards the bathroom. Meryl waited until the water started running before she crept over.

“It was worse in the future?” she asked quietly.

“…yeah.”

She didn’t say another word. He didn’t have to roll over to imagine the pain on her face.

Meryl had a lot to think about at breakfast.

Waking up and seeing Vash’s scars had been a shock. His reassurances that he was okay were drowned out by her memories of what Wolfwood had said about them being worse. That was the thought that had brought tears to her eyes: that he had suffered through far worse when she had met him originally, and without anyone to help him.

But Wolfwood said they’re not as bad this time around, so we must be helping, right? We must be doing something. Meryl just barely managed to smile when she saw Vash look at her. There was no sense in making him worry too much about her, and she had no idea how to explain her worries anyway. I really hope we’re doing something.

“So, what’s the plan?” Wolfwood asked. He ate like he was starving, shoveling massive bites of porridge into his mouth and barely stopping to swallow before he kept talking. “I’m not sure if Meryl and I will be going anywhere, so might as well know what we’re rushing into.”

“I’m headed south,” Vash said. “I wanted to check on some of the older settlements. It’s been a while since I stopped by, so I wanted to see how they were doing.”

“Have you had any sign of…?”

Vash shook his head. “I think he’s been in July a lot lately. I could stop by there to see what he’s doing, but…”

“No!” Meryl and Wolfwood blurted. Vash looked a little taken aback by how forceful they were about it…or maybe he was just surprised that they’d agreed about something. “I mean…if he’s not causing trouble, maybe it’s better to leave it alone,” Meryl added quickly.

“Yeah, what are you gonna do if you go, anyway?” Wolfwood said. “Have a couple shots and chat about the arm thing?” Vash’s nose wrinkled slightly in disgust. “Exactly. You stay away from him as much as you can. Understand?”

Vash nodded slowly as he looked between them. Whatever he might have been thinking was covered up by a quick nod and a forced cheerful smile. “You’re right,” he said. “There’s only one family reunion I’m looking forward to, and it’s definitely not in July.”

Meryl looked Wolfwood’s way and raised an eyebrow. See? Things are better now. They’re his family.

Wolfwood didn’t reply, but Meryl could see a bit of wariness in his eyes. She was starting to get why he rarely took his sunglasses off in the future; he was a lot easier to read without them. “South it is, then,” Wolfwood said in a tone that masked that wariness. “Hopefully with fewer worms.”

If there were fewer worms, they didn’t get the chance to find out. There was a portal waiting for them when they got upstairs.

“Well, that probably answers the worm question,” Vash said. His tone was cheerful, but you’d have to be blind to miss the disappointment in his eyes. “Lucky me, huh?”

Meryl hugged him in response. He hugged her back tightly.

They took their time packing and filling up their water bottles, but splitting up was inevitable. Meryl gave Vash one more hug and was surprised to see him exchange one with Wolfwood, too. “Try not to do anything stupid,” Wolfwood said.

“Stupid by your standards, you mean?” Vash replied.

“Exactly.” Wolfwood gave him a poke on the forehead as he pulled away from the hug. “We’ll see you.”

“See you,” Meryl echoed, though her eyes were fixed on Wolfwood. She had a few answers about him now, but so many more questions to go with them. It seemed that she had two goals now: help Vash and figure out who, exactly, the Undertaker was.

“Ladies first?” Wolfwood said.

“Fine by me,” Meryl said before stepping through.

Maybe showing him her back wasn’t the smartest move, but she trusted him enough for that, at least.

citations: the song vash sings is the traditional irish folk song "rattlin bog". the orphans incident is from based off wolfwood's introduction in the manga and the '98 anime. "perfect execution of orders" is a reference to trigun: maximum, specifically chapel talking about the function of the eye of michael.

#brb im just gonna gnaw on the insulation over here #im chipping off the paint with my finger nails thats all #carry on im fine #THEY'RE LIKE HIS MOM AND DAD OKAY??#THEIR RELATIONSHIP HAS FUNDAMENTALLY CHANGED IN A DEEP AND POSITIVELY ENRICHING WAYYY #and like they kinda dont realize it but now that they can see eachother its like clicking a little #and my heart burst into pieces #i love them so much #shit man everyones gotta read this fic im feral about it #trigun #trigun stampede #fic: the unknowable tomorrow

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