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"...Wolfwood?"
He can't see him anywhere.
"Meryl?"
No sign of her, either.
"Roberto..?"
Not even a single sound in response.
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"Hey there, what's the matter?"
The boy lifts his head up from covering it with his hands and finds himself looking into blue eyes through orange lenses. There was a gentle smile on his face, radiating a warmth that made the child calm down just a little. Into those blue eyes he'd continue to stare for a few seconds, before a reply finally came.
"I- my parents... I can't find them..."
He nearly starts weeping again, if not for the hand that gently ruffled his hair.
"It's alright, it's alright, I'll help you find them. Here, hold my hand."
The boy hesitantly reaches out, his small hand held firmly - but not too firmly in a way that'd hurt - in a hand much larger than his. He's still sniffling every now and then as his other free hand clutches onto the cascade of cloth from the stranger's jacket, scared he'd also be separated from him. The endless sea of passengers walking about only prompts him to grip tighter, not wanting to lose sight of his rescuer.
"M- Mister... What's your name?"
He'd look up, waiting for a reply. The stranger's head tilts down, with nothing more but the same warm smile. In response, the child tilts his head in confusion.
It doesn't take long before the two hear a couple loudly calling someone's name, every call filled to the brim with much concern and trepidation.
"Hm? They're looking for someone, it seems we've found your parents."
The boy perks up at the familiar voice and the stranger's own reaction to the yelling. Amidst the crowd, he catches a glimpse of the voices' owners, and the frown finally changes into a wide smile.
"Mama! Papa! It's them! They're over there!"
And so the two make it through the crowd, the stranger apologizing frantically as he tries to make way, earning a few scowls from passers-by as he does.
The couple's calls are answered, as a meek voice replies, trying to make itself heard amongst the cacophony of noise, a trademark sign of a busy day at the Sand Steamer terminal.
"Mama! Papa! I'm here!"
Calling the child's name in unison, they finally spot the lost boy and rush over, repeating his name as the stranger lets go, allowing the boy to run to his parents, who immediately pick him up in their arms, holding him close as he clings onto them, not letting go this time.
"Thank you! Thank you for helping us bring our son back! Oh, bless your kind soul!"
"Please, no need to thank me. I'm just helping wherever I can. Stay safe on your trip too, yeah? Take care!"
After a few more "thank you"s from the couple, they finally depart, leaving the stranger alone.
"Right, where was I... Meryl should've gotten the tickets already- Meryl?"
"Eh... looks like there's a lot of passengers today, huh, Wolfwood?"
"...Wolfwood?"
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It's only then that things finally click for Vash.
He'd heard the boy crying, and may have accidentally wandered off to find who was crying, without informing the others.
He immediately starts looking around, trying to find one of them - any of them. But he doesn't see Meryl's ever so familiar blue beret, Roberto's tired face - his tired face made him stand out quite a bit, Vash had noticed - or even Wolfwood's stupidly obvious Punisher disguised as a cross.
How painfully ironic.
It doesn't help that he's slowly starting to blame himself again for getting himself separated, the mind convincing him the worst of this scenario. He can hear as his heart gradually begins to thump faster in his skull, eyes darting around, trying to look for anything that'd help him recognize any of the three, but to no avail.
Vash the Stampede travelled alone; he always had, up until now. Walking the scorched sands of No Man's Land alone was all he'd ever done his whole life, with only himself and the occasional Worms to keep him company, but not even the Worms stayed for long.
And then came Meryl and Roberto, Wolfwood soon to follow after his exile from Jeneora Rock - an incident which, inevitably, haunts him still.
For the first time in what seemed like a boundless life, his journeys across the desert wasteland were no longer enveloped in lonely solitude.
On nights where they'd end up in towns and not immediately have a horde come for the ever so alluring bounty on the gunslinger's head, Vash had developed, or better yet, rekindled the habit of wishing a "good night" to the others as they settled into the inns said towns had to offer, just as he once did on the Project SEEDS spacecraft, the humans inside their respective cryopods deep in slumber, unaware of a young Vash who'd take the time to say "good night" to each and every one of them.
And on nights where they'd end up in god knows what part of No Man's Land's endless sea of sand, Vash would find himself sitting in front of a bonfire, fondly watching as the others went about, bickering about practically anything and talked about plans for the next day. He'd sometimes take off his jacket and use it as a blanket for whoever he noticed was shivering in the frigid cold of night before finally dozing off himself; despite knowing damn well that whoever he placed his jacket on would lecture him about risking getting a nasty cold just for the sake of keeping them warm. Wolfwood would join in regardless of whoever got the jacket, completely bewildered and sometimes annoyed by how Vash was always putting their wellbeing above his.
Even so, part of him thinks they've already left him behind, and that he deserved it if so. Meryl and Roberto just wanted an interview, and Wolfwood... he actually doesn't really recall why Wolfwood stayed with them in the first place. But either way, there isn't really much value to get from staying with him anymore, right? Hell, he's also called the "devil that brings disaster" for a reason - anyone who's acquainted with him is sure to get hurt eventually. Them leaving him would've been a significantly safer option.
But another part of his lonely soul still wants for the nights he's experienced with them to continue on. He hates himself for even wanting.
If that was the case, why was he still looking for them?
Why was he still calling their names, hoping one of them, any of them would say his name back?
For whatever reason it may be, he decided to act willfully just one more time.
Just one more time.
It was something he'd never expected himself to ever do, truth be told.
With a click, the prosthetic arm comes off with relative ease, bringing in shocked looks from even more passers-by this time. Waving it high in the air, it sticks out like a particularly sore thumb - pun not intended. And then, he continues to repeat those three names, hoping that they would notice and head to his location.
"Wolfwood!"
"Meryl!"
"Roberto!"
It feels like his throat has finally started to give out on him, his voice becoming noticeably weaker the more he continued to yell their names aloud.
It was bound to fail, wasn't it.
He finally relents, the arm dropping back down as his flesh arm held on, lifting it back to where it was to be connected.
The sting of tears forming converges in his eyes, Vash forcing the tears to go back to wherever he came from. He didn't deserve to cry, not now, not ever.
But he heard a voice, ever so faintly repeating his name the same way he did theirs.
"Meryl..?"
He stands on the tip of his toes amidst the still moving crowd, and spots the blue beret he'd been looking for.
Vash squeezes himself past the crowd once more, now hearing grumbles as he did for the third time today, before stopping before the petite woman in front of him.
"Me-"
"Vash! You're alright! I thought someone got you!"
"No, no, I should be the one to apologize. I walked off without saying anything to Roberto and Wolfwood, and now you guys are worrying about me, I'm so sorry, I really am-"
"Vash, Vash, it's alright. You're fine. They'll be here soon any minute now. Here, please have some water, your voice is all scratchy."
It takes a few moments before he finally accepts the drink, taking a few sips.
And just as the rookie reporter had told him, Roberto and Wolfwood show up after just a few minutes of waiting.
Roberto finally heaves a sigh of relief he didn't even know he had in him. Wolfwood on the other hand, was livid.
"Damnit, Spikey! What happened to you?! Where did you run off to? I turn my head away for one second, and you're gone like the fucking wind! Do you know how damn annoying it is when I have to patch you up every time you get a bullet hole in you?!"
"Ah- uhm, yeah... I'm sorry for just leaving like that... I didn't mean to. I heard a kid crying somewhere and went to check it out, I didn't think I'd worry you guys this much..."
He's been looking away from the three of them this whole time, afraid to look them directly in their eyes. Once again, he just loathes the way he's always bringing inconvenience to anyone who sticks around him, or in this case, whoever he sticks around with. God, he's so pathetic for being like this.
It's them that he feels a hand on his shoulder, lightly patting him as he finally gains the courage to look up.
"Oh, of course it's you running off to be all goody-two-shoes again." Wolfwood chews on the unlit cigarette in his mouth, clearly bent out of shape. He clearly had a lit one before he ran off, Vash recalled.
"It's alright, as long as you're still here and without a new bullet hole in you. Rookie, got the tickets yet?"
"Yep, right here!"
"Good, let's get moving, Stampede."
"Hurry up, Spikey. Don't make me come up with another nickname for you!"
"I keep trying to tell him, my name is Meryl! Ugh, I can't with him. Anyway, Vash, let's go! Is something the matter?"
The prickling feeling in the corner of his eyes was back, Vash once again trying to push it back to where it came from. He didn't know why he felt like he was about to tear up again. But he feels a sliver of warmth as he replied with a shaky voice, barely holding in the emotion he was trying to push down.
"Nothing, nothing at all. Let's go!"
"Say, Vash, I've never seen you smile like that before."