Chapter Text
Despite being some alien monstrosity with weird tiny heads, these ‘thoma’ ran fast. They arrived in the next town about an hour or two across the dunes. Nothing about Ailtown seemed strange or incorrect, but Wolfwood wasn’t trusting that something was amiss about the place.
That’s just how his day was going.
They found the inn and Meryl paid for two rooms. Wolfwood didn’t even have to con her into paying for him as well. He was really off his game and didn’t even think about how he had $$0 to his name at the moment until Meryl pulled out her wallet.
“I’ll pay you back,” he told her.
Meryl laughed. “You always say that but you never do.”
“That’s why we charge it to the Bernadelli Insurance Society anyway,” Milly added.
“Insurance? I thought y’all were reporters.”
Another deep, world heaving sigh left Meryl. “Let’s get you some water and sort through whatever is going on with you.”
“I still think he’s a different Wolfwood,” Milly said.
“Sure, Milly,” Meryl groaned with the indignation of the frequently annoyed. “Because it’s completely possible that we have somehow acquired a version of Wolfwood that is similar but not the same Wolfwood who frequently runs into us while traveling on and off with Vash the Stampede.”
“He could be a clone,” Milly offered.
Meryl threw her hands up. “Sure, why not?!”
At least three pitchers of water later, Wolfwood felt mostly back to normal. The heat got to him a bit there in the end, especially after getting sand everywhere humanly possible. But his body seemed in top form. No lingering aches despite being hit by a car. Nor cuts or bruises save for sore thighs from riding whatever creatures the ladies called a Thomas. Even his myriad thoughts lined up neat and orderly in his head despite the puzzle appearing before him.
He’s spent the past two plus years searching for Vash, yet the girls claimed they saw the two of them together only a few days ago. Meryl’s new partner, Milly, acted as if they had known each other for some time while Wolfwood couldn’t recall ever meeting her before. And Meryl herself seemed older and more mature than he remembered.
Something really wasn’t adding up. He wished the needle-noggin was here. He always had a way to explain the absurd in a way that made sense.
“Alright,” Meryl said. “Time to get to the bottom of… whatever this is. Who are you?”
Wolfwood glared. “Nicholas D. Wolfwood. Are you stupid?”
“Mister Priest, we are only trying to help. There’s no need to be rude,” Milly huffed.
“Actually that’s a great point,” Meryl said. “If you aren’t a priest, what are you?”
“I’m an Undertaker,” he replied. “Mostly.”
Milly nodded sagely, as if this was the only explanation she needed. Meryl however…
“Explain?”
Wolfwood groaned, rolling his head back to stare at the ceiling. How could Shorty forget about his role in Julai so easily? Or maybe having to remind her over and over again about how he led a good man to his demise was just Wolfwood’s own form of eternal punishment.
“My cross isn’t a wooden cross,” he tried.
“Oh we know that,” Milly said excitedly. “It’s like a machine gun right? You can also store pistols in it.”
Wolfwood picked his jaw off the floor. “It doesn’t store pistols, and yeah, it can be a machine gun. But it does cooler things than that.”
“Can it shoot bombs or something?” Milly asked, completely ignoring Meryl’s facepalming next to them.
Wolfwood grinned. “Or something.”
“Like what?”
“It shoots lasers,” he said proudly.
Milly’s face lit up with joy while Meryl simply gagged.
“You sound like you’re twelve,” she said. “ ‘It shoots lasers’, come on. You’re killing me.”
“It’s true,” Wolfwood protested. “It’s how we met, remember? Used it to slice up the giant worm that ate us. Or how else did you think we survived that?”
“You were eaten by a giant worm?” Milly asked the other woman. “That sounds fascinating. I thought you never had any adventures in Gunsmoke before we were assigned to the Vash case?”
Wolfwood understood some of those words, at least in the context provided.
“Gunsmoke?” he asked first.
Milly nodded. “Yeah, you know this planet?”
“You don’t call it No Man’s Land?”
Meryl crossed her arms. “No but that would be an accurate name. Let’s start there - why do you call this place?”
“No Man’s Land,” Wolfwood said. “LIke I just said.”
“And how did we get here?” Meryl pressed.
“We crashed landed on this planet a century and half ago and like cockroaches refuse to die.”
“So cynical,” Milly said. “It’s a testament to the human spirit that we’ve managed to make a home on this planet, don’t you think?”
Wolfwood snorted. “Sure, Big Girl.”
“Awww, our Wolfwood calls me that too,” Milly replied.
“Okay what is the deal with this ‘our Wolfwood’ thing?” he said. “Why don’t you tell me what you think you know about me and we see what matches?”
“Fine,” Meryl said. “Your name is Nicholas D. Wolfwood. You’re a traveling priest trying to earn money for the orphanage you patronize and grew up in. You smoke too much, drink too much, and follow Vash the Stampede like a bad case of foot fungus. You like to pretend you’re harmless but you’re a great shot and that cross of yours can cause us so much paperwork.”
Wolfwood simply stared as his brain processed this. “And what about the Eye of Michael?”
“Eye of what?” Milly asked.
“Guess you didn’t tell her,” Wolfwood said to Meryl, who only gave him a look of pure confusion.
“I’ve never heard of the Eye of Michael,” she replied. “Is it the name of your denomination or something? I thought you were Catholic.”
Wolfwood stood up from the table. “I’m getting a drink.”
“Oh, can you get us some oolong tea too?” Milly shouted.
Two shots of whiskey and three cigarettes later, Wolfwood felt more in control of himself and less like his mind was running in a Thomas derby all by itself.
“I think… you might not be the Meryl I know,” he finally admitted.
“What gave that away?” Meryl snarked.
“You’re sassier than mine, for one,” Wolfwood complained. “Don’t get me wrong, confidence looks good on you. But damn Shorty. You also look older.”
“I do not look old!” Meryl shouted.
“How old is your Meryl?” Milly asked, cutting off the imminent explosion.
Wolfwood shrugged. “Around my age. Some early or mid-twenties something. Plus she’s a reporter, not… whatever you girls are.”
“A reporter? Fascinating.” Milly said. “Are you also raising money for an orphanage?”
“Not exactly,” Wolfwood managed. “I uh, well I’m protecting them by doing work.”
“Protecting how?” Meryl asked, immediately suspicious.
“Did a job for the Eye of Michael to keep them from taking more kids like me,” Wolfwood said through gritted teeth.
Milly gasped. “A tragic backstory!”
“Milly!”
“What?!” Milly shouted. “This is exciting. A Wolfwood from another universe or timeline. Ooo, maybe it’s just time travel?”
“Too many inconsistencies for it to be time travel,” Meryl concluded. “You said you met me after being eaten by a giant worm?”
Wolfwood did his best to briefly summarize the Worm Incident, as his Meryl called it. Starting from when Meryl smashed him into their trailer, the funeral, and their laser-filled escape from the insides of a giant worm. Before he knew it, the rest of their travels came pouring out of his mouth.
From nights at inns just like this arguing and goofing around before someone recognized Vash and tried their hand at claiming the bounty. To nights camping under the stars and complaining about the bitter desert nights.
He talked about Roberto for the first time since Julai, he realized, when he complained about how the old geezer often refused to share cigarettes with him. To their credit, both women listened in fascination and only asked a few clarifying questions.
“Wow Meryl, it sounds like the other Meryl has had a bit more of an exciting life,” Milly said.
“No need to rub it in, Milly.” Meryl glowered. “But it’s strange. I’ve never met a Robero de Niro before. And you said we were… journalists? Bernadelli doesn’t even have a news department.”
“None of that explains how we got a Wolfwood from another universe, either,” Milly said. “What do we call him? Mr. Baby Priest? Wolfwood the Second?”
“Just call me Wolfwood,” he grumbled. “Or Undertaker.”
“Oh!” Milly clapped excitedly. “Mr Undertaker it is.”
“You really don’t know how you got here?” Meryl asked. “Sadly universe-jumping is outside of my expertise.”
“Mr Vash might know!”
Wolfwood nearly spat his drink out. “You know where he is?”
Milly nodded, paused, and then shook her head. “Well we know where he’s not.”
“Where’s that?” Wolfwood asked.
“Not here.” Milly said proudly.
At least Meryl joined him as Wolfwood rubbed his face with his palms. “Astute observation, big girl. But he’s alive? He’s safe?”
Meryl went quiet across the table. Wolfwood felt like kicking himself. Had he revealed too much somehow? Or sounded too desperate.
“He was alive last time we saw him,” she said. “The boys told us they were heading North, so we’re hoping to connect with them soon. Though judging by the lack of destruction, they came from the other way. We’ll meet them in the next town..”
“Yes, Mr. Priest said he would make them wait for us,” Milly said. “That way we could all take the sandsteamer together.”
“Not another sandsteamer,” Wolfwood’s stomach lurched. “Wait, is it okay to meet the other Me?”
“What do you mean?” Milly asked.
“Well would running into the other me cause some galactic problem? Like create a black hole that sucks in the entire universe and kills everyone.”
“That’s time travel,” Meryl replied. “You haven’t destroyed the universe by running into us. You’re different enough, have different memories altogether. It should be fine. Otherwise, what else would you do? Just wander the desert doing whatever it is a Wolfwood does when he’s not with us.”
“Probably smoke and drink and flirt a lot,” Milly mused.
Geez, this other Wolfwood must be a Piece of Work. He sounded as chaotic as Vash, though he’d hardly call Vash a womanizer. His track record back home was atrocious anyway. No way they shared that in common.
Besides, he had a singular focus these days to bother with flirting.