Work Text:
Wolfwood doesn’t know why he isn’t dead yet. He’s waiting for his death to find him. After all, he’s failed in his job – to keep track of Vash the Stampede.
Vash has been missing for weeks now, and Wolfwood is none the wiser as to where Vash is. He’s followed a couple of rumors, but they hadn’t panned out. And even then, the rumors have been scarcer than usual. Vash is lying low, something that Wolfwood didn’t really think was possible.
He had been acting weird before he’d disappeared, but, well, Vash acts weird plenty of the time, and Wolfwood hadn’t known what to make of it. He’d seemed sick, puking his guts up at any given moment, but per usual, he’d denied anything was wrong and hadn’t let anyone come near him. Meryl had brought up going to see a doctor, but that had never turned into anything.
Things had come to a head right after they’d been caught in a shootout. Vash had been shot in the side. Wolfwood had gone to patch him up, a mouthful of snarling agitations at the ready, but Vash hadn’t so much as let him take off his red jacket. He’d been quiet that night, and then the next morning, he was gone.
Meryl had been especially agitated by the realization. They’d tried to find Vash, but after a little while, Roberto had been adamant that they head back. They had a job to do, and they could only spend so much finding a man who obviously no longer wanted to be found.
So, Wolfwood is back on his own now.
He’s been in the same dingy town for over a week now, left with little to do but drink.
He’s just finished most of what passes for a bottle of good whiskey and is stepping outside to have a cigarette when Zazie finds him. He nonchalantly blows a cloud of smoke.
“Call me arrogant,” he says, “but I think it might take a little more than you to finish me off.”
Zazie tilts their head in interest.
“Kill you?” they repeat with idle amusement. “Why would I be here to do that, Punisher?”
Wolfwood shoots them a look as dry as the surrounding desert. He’s always been amazed at how easily amused Zazie is by their struggles, considering that they’re not even human. He’s not in the mood for games, though.
“I lost Vash,” Wolfwood says, three simple words before clamping his teeth down on the filter of his cigarette. He could say more: that their supposed “boss” isn’t particularly forgiving and that’s doubly so when it comes to his brother.
Zazie titters a laugh, delighted.
“I know where he is,” they answer. “But I also come bearing your new orders.”
Wolfwood eyes them up. This could be a trick. He’s never entirely sure of Zazie’s motives.
“The Stampede is waiting for you,” Zazie continues, apparently deciding not to continue stringing Wolfwood along. “You’re to return to his side and keep him safe. He won’t run from you again. He’ll also have a child with him. You’re to watch over her as well.”
A child? Wolfwood is brought up short. Sure, Vash is plenty fond of kids – and kids tend to be fond of him, too. But Vash has never once tried to take a kid along with them. He has to know that their way of life is too dangerous for a kid. And, moreover, he can’t imagine what sort kid would matter to Knives.
Zazie is looking at him with smug pleasure, obviously wanting Wolfwood to ask more about the kid. Which is why he doesn’t.
He finishes his cigarette, sucking the smoke roughly into his lungs.
“A’right. Where is he then?”
…
The town that Wolfwood arrives in is about as quaint as things get in such an isolated part of this barren planet. He gets turned around in the streets, though, struggling to find the building that Zazie marked on a makeshift map. Before he gets his bearings, he hears a familiar voice.
Turning a corner, he’s surprised to see Meryl and Roberto bickering. Meryl spots him first, and – bless her – she lights up and waves energetically at him.
He wonders just what happened to get Meryl and Roberto out here, but then again, knowing Meryl, it probably took the scarcest of hints of Vash’s location.
Wolfwood lopes up next to them and actually knocks on the door of the house that they’re in front of. Behind the door, he hears something crash, some footsteps, and then the door swings open.
And there’s Vash, breathless, flushed, and smiling, as if it had been seconds since they had last seen each other and he hadn’t disappeared without a word or a trace.
“Hi,” Vash says, looking between all of them.
On his hip is a baby.
Despite the warning, Wolfwood is still distracted by her. He’d guess that she’s maybe six or seven months old, all baby fat and dimpled cheeks. She has the curliest hair that Wolfwood has ever seen, and she shouts in excitement at them. One of her hands is tightly fisted into Vash’s shirt. The other she waves at Wolfwood.
On an impulse well-ingrained from growing up in an orphanage, he takes her tiny fist in his hand. She yells happily at him again.
“Oh!” Meryl exclaims behind him. Wolfwood quickly lets go of the baby’s hand. He wonders if Meryl and Roberto knew what they were getting into.
“She’s cute,” Meryl gushes.
Vash looks down at her and smiles warmly.
“Her name is Calla,” Vash offers.
She’s Vash’s. The realization hits Wolfwood with the power of a sack of bricks. Of course. She has a passing similarity to Elendira and the picture that Wolfwood has seen of a young Knives and Vash. She’s just dressed to look more human, with none of the sterile colors and artifice.
Still, Wolfwood boggles. He curses Zazie for not offering up all of this information. While still following Vash inside what has obviously become his home, Wolfwood tries to figure out what the hell is going on.
He doesn’t know that much about Plant reproduction. He knows that Vash has a pussy from being in various states of undress together while rooming together or patching him up, but he hadn’t known what exactly that meant when it came to Plants. But if it turns out that Vash was pregnant, well, the sickness and the withdrawal make sense now.
He wonders for a fraction of a second who the other parent is – is another parent even needed? – but, deep down, he just knows: It’s Knives.
This kid is Vash’s and Knives’. Another Independent Plant that he’s apparently been brought in to help babysit.
When he’d suggested that Knives and Vash make up, this wasn’t what he had in mind. He wonders where, exactly, this leaves the brothers.
He badly needs a cigarette.
…
It’s hard to watch Vash with her, especially when he’s trying so hard not to show any judgement. It would be easy to judge the situation as a whole, but it’s clear that’s the last thing Vash needs.
He’s terrified of the baby – Calla. He does a good job of hiding it. He’s doting, of course, and rarely, if ever, lets Calla out of his sight. If anything, he hovers a little too much, but that’s probably not a surprise, considering what he’s been through and that he’s been on his own all this time.
But there are times when he reaches for her, and he clearly hesitates for a micro of a second.
Meryl, in her pushy way, helps, because she makes Vash let her help him.
As far as Wolfwood is aware, he knows the most about kids out of all of them, but it takes some time before he so much as holds Calla.
It’s been a long day. Calla is fussing more than usual, loud, wailing cries that they can do little to assuage. Roberto disappeared early in the day. When Vash finally succeeds in getting Calla down for her nap, Meryl insists that he take a walk with her and be outside for a little while.
Of course, they’re just out of earshot when Calla starts up again. Being the only one in the house, Wolfwood approaches her crib and picks her up with little fanfare. She hiccups up at him, seemingly surprised to find him rather than her dad. She examines him through tear-stained eyes and then grabs the cord to the cross he wears around his neck.
“I know, Noodle-noggin’,” he says as he rubs her back. “Those growing pains are rough, aren’t they? They won’t last forever though.” He’s been around just long enough to have picked up on that she’s growing much faster than a human baby.
She looks up at him, still holding onto his necklace, seemingly entranced with the deep timbre of his voice. He sighs a little, but keeps walking her around, murmuring to her all the while because it seems to soothe her.
He feels for her, really. He’s seen the way that the world has treated Vash, and they don’t even fully understand what he can do or what he is. He doubts that it’s going to be much easier for Calla. One of her parents is Millions Knives, after all, which has to be … interesting. He knows that Vash is and will continue to be a loving parent, but every now and then, someone’s going to need to be knocked into the dust for not treating Calla right.
Wolfwood suspects that’s going to be him.
He wishes there wasn’t a kid involved. Vash, with his warmth and kindness, was hard enough. He had known that it was going to be a hard job to walk away from. Now he wonders if there’s going to be any walking away from this job at all.
…
The first time they move, they head to someplace even more isolated. It’s what passes for a farmhouse, a few iles outside of the nearest town. It’s set up with a greenhouse that could run on solar energy, although they won’t use it as such.
It’s plenty of room for Calla to run around without worry, and she has come to love running around. She’s marvelously unsteady on her legs, but that doesn’t stop her. Her favorite game in the world is to be chased around the outside of the house, preferably by Meryl or Wolfwood, because she usually calls for Vash to come save her at some point.
Wolfwood likes the farmhouse, though he doesn’t admit it to anyone.
What still throws him off kilter is when he, ostensibly, is thrown into exile when Knives decides to show up for a visit and play house. He still doesn’t get how Vash and Knives are getting along well enough to raise a kid together, but he does know that the gang has all been shut down. Whatever Knives’ grand plans are, they’ve been changed with the arrival of his daughter. At least for now. Wolfwood knows better than to count on peace lasting between the brothers, daughter around or not.
When he returns to the house after Knives’ departure, Vash and Calla are sitting on the porch swing together. Calla stands up on Vash’s legs as soon as catches sight of Wolfwood, a big grin breaking out over her tiny face.
“Woo!” she greets him, shouting out her toddler exuberance. It’s close enough, but Wolfwood had to threaten Vash and Meryl with death when they started calling him the same and cracking up over his new nickname.
“Hey, Noodles,” he greets her.
She squeals until Vash lets her down off the swing and then helps her down the few steps to the ground. Finally free, she careens to Wolfwood, collides with his knees, and then wraps herself around his legs.
It takes him some work, but he finally kneels onto the ground in front of her.
“Woo!” she shouts again, no less loud for him being directly in front of her. He hugs her, which lasts a few seconds until she’s trying to grab his sunglasses and accidentally yanks a handful of his hair.
“I brought you a present, Noodles,” he says. He leans over to grab the box off the back of his bike and puts it on the ground in front of her. Calla perks up and looks at the box with interest. She’s still in a way that she usually isn’t, hands holding her curly hair out of her face as she looks at the box. Wolfwood opens it for her, and she leans further forward so that she can look inside.
Wolfwood puts one hand inside and scoops out the baby chick that he had found at market today and been unable not to buy. There’d been a trio, and he figured they’d be good for laying eggs, and they could always sell them if they moved somewhere they couldn’t take them.
Calla gasps. She’s perpetually curious about every living thing – obviously got Vash’s love for the world.
He takes one of her hands and shows her how to gently stroke the chick.
“Gentle, see?” Wolfwood murmurs. For as rambunctious and young as she is, he knows that she’ll be perfect for taking care of them. Even now, she’s silently watching, enraptured, as the chick stirs under their combined touch and cheeps.
She lets out a similar sound of delight, looking up at Wolfwood with sparkling eyes.
Wolfwood glances over at Vash and finds a near identical expression on his face. He has to look away, as always, uncomfortable with how much Vash seems to see.
…
It seems kind of unfair how fast Calla grows. Wolfwood wonders if the Independent Plants do that to more easily protect themselves.
It means they have a somewhat transient existence, which is nothing new to Wolfwood, but does make him feel for Calla. They’re back in a more populated area now, and for the first time, Calla’s been regularly playing with the neighborhood kids on her own.
Vash had fretted the whole afternoon the first time they had allowed that, even though she had been playing in the alley where they could walk a couple of steps to see her. She knows the rules well of what she can’t show to the other kids, too, particularly the feathers underneath her hair and how quickly she heals.
All things considered, things go pretty well, which is why it’s such a surprise when Wolfwood calls her in for dinner one night and she doesn’t come running back. He calls out once more, and when she still doesn’t come, Wolfwood heads out to find her.
He doesn’t expect to find her in the alleyway by herself, seated on the ground with scuffed knees to her chest, crying her eyes out. His heart wrenches in a way that it hasn’t in a very long time. In a way that he didn’t know it still could.
“Callie,” he says, dropping down in front of her. “What’s wrong?”
“My lines came out,” she says, sniffling and holding out her arms to him. Her Plant markings are glowing so faintly that Wolfwood can barely see them, but they’re there all the same.
“I got mad during a game,” she says, fully rambling now, “and the lines came out and then the boys made fun of me and – and –” She’s crying harder now, pulling in uneven trembling breaths as she tries to keep speaking. “They called me a bad word and pushed me!”
Wolfwood grits his teeth. He wishes these kids were still around so he could tell them a thing or two.
He pulls her in against him, holding her tight, while she cries her eyes out until she goes limp and exhausted against him.
“I wanted to push them back,” Calla mumbles against his neck. “But I knew Dad would tell me not to.”
Yeah, he’s sure Vash would recommend that. But, well, Vash isn’t here right now, and Wolfwood is no saint.
“Can I tell you a secret, Noodles?” he asks. She pulls away, looking at him. He thumbs away her tears with one hand. She nods unsteadily.
“Sometimes,” he says, lowering his voice as if they’re really sharing a secret, “it’s okay to push back. The trick is figuring out when those times are.” Lord knows that maybe she doesn’t need another adult voice telling her something different, but he figures that someone needs to tell her something in between Vash and Knives. God help her that that person is him. At least she has Meryl too. He’s pretty sure she would back him on this.
Calla’s little face is furrowed in intense concentration as she parses through his words.
“But how do I know?” Calla says in nearly a whisper, matching his low volume.
“You’ll learn,” Wolfwood reassures. “It takes time.” It’s a simplification, he knows, and, not for the first time, he feels pity for the little girl in front of him, whose life is likely going to be defined by figuring out when to push back.
Her face is still lined with worry, eyes red rimmed. She reaches up with little hands to be held and picked up in a way that she’s mostly outgrown. But Wolfwood certainly can’t deny her. He carries her home.
…
Wolfwood tries to push his bike harder, but its reached the limits of its speed and the heat the engine can handle. He growls in blatant frustration, even though there’s no one around to hear.
He’d been trying to return home after one of Knives’ little family visits only to find the town barely existed anymore. Directions to where Vash and Calla had been relocated were waiting for him. He knew something bad had happened, but he didn’t have any details as to what.
He’s also not an expert on the entire geography of Gunsmoke, but he’s pretty sure there isn’t a town where he’s been told to go. He wonders if he’s walking into a trap – if Knives and Vash have fallen back out.
When he finally reaches a destination, he grinds the bike to a stop, staring at the sight in front of him. He’s seen a lot in his days, what with his association with both twins, but he’s not fully prepared for what lies ahead. There’s a sort of dome, large as a city and mostly see-through, and through its panes, he can see green. It’s vibrant and lush in a way that things aren’t on this planet.
He's so busy staring that he doesn’t realize that Knives is watching him.
When he catches sight of him, all of the hairs stand up on the back of Wolfwood’s neck, a warning that he’s in the presence of a greater predator.
“Welcome, Punisher,” Knives says. Some people might describe his tone as one of lazy indifference. Wolfwood is pretty sure that Knives is pleased and amused to have caught him off guard.
Knives gestures for him to follow and then turns to re-enter the dome. Wolfwood doesn’t even pretend to have a choice in the matter. He follows. His fate was sewn to the twins long ago.
The dome is even more marvelous on the inside. Wolfwood considers him a realist, knows that some people might call him a cynic. But he had never expected to see so much life. It’s hard not to get swept up in the beauty of it. It’s even more astonishing to realize that Knives did this. It’s impossible to tell the extent of the power that Knives, Vash, and the other Plants hold, and Wolfwood finds himself constantly adjusting the bar.
For a moment, he even feels some pity that Vash and Knives couldn’t have worked together to make this for the entire planet. But then, even he’s not sure if the human race deserves it. It’s not his place to judge. He thinks of the abandoned kids at his own orphanage, most of them damned to lives of suffering. But he also knows the lives that humanity would trap Vash and Calla in, if they could. Suck them dry like the dependent Plants.
There are a few structures dotting the landscape, and Knives leads them to one before stopping and turning to face him.
“Are Calla and Vash okay?” Wolfwood asks immediately, bluntly. He’s not going to play at niceties with Millions Knives.
“They are now,” Knives answers smoothly. “They’re here.”
“Who do I need to punish for hurting them?” Wolfwood asks. He assumes that’s the only reason that Knives would speak to him personally. Despite Wolfwood being around his daughter more than Knives himself, Knives has never deigned to meet with him face to face before.
Knives’ mouth curls into a smile.
“That’s not necessary,” Knives says. And then adds, unexpectedly, “Vash took care of it.”
Wolfwood blinks.
“Vash?” he repeats.
Based on Knives’ evident pleasure, Vash enacted some sort of violence on whoever attacked him and Calla. Wolfwood strongly doubts that Vash is as pleased and proud with this as Knives is. Vash likely isn’t as okay as Knives is making him out to be.
He doesn’t say any of this to Knives. Wolfwood will talk to Vash about it later.
But that also doesn’t explain why Knives is talking to him now.
“This is our permanent home now,” Knives continues finally. “Our” is obviously meant to reflect Knives himself, Vash, and Calla. “But I know that Vash and my daughter will want you to stay here with them.”
Wolfwood is taken aback. An invitation to Knives’ Eden? Staying in this miraculous place of life – with clean air and water, safety, and space to flourish? This isn’t a place for Wolfwood. There’s never been any Eden waiting at the end of Wolfwood’s road.
And that would mean continuing to stay underneath Knives’ rule. For all he understands why Vash made peace with Knives, he struggles with it. He can’t see Knives as anything other than a bona fide psychopath. He’s forever waiting for the bottom to fall out between Knives and Vash. What’s a year of tentative peace after centuries of being at each other’s throats? And while this definitely isn’t his place to say, he doesn’t trust Knives with Calla for one fucking second. Calla is good. Wolfwood loves her. And he knows that Knives will try to mold her to his whims and if he can’t, he’ll break her, the same as he did with Vash.
He doesn’t want to be around to see any of that.
“Your final contract was supposed to be in exchange for your orphanage,” Knives says. Wolfwood eyes him, feeling a snarl in between his teeth.
“I’ll bring them all here,” Knives says. “And you can watch over them yourself.”
The snarl dies.
“No experimentation?” he asks.
“No,” Knives says, as if Wolfwood is asking a stupid question. “No more of that. Not on any human.”
Wolfwood drags his gaze over Knives. As far as he can read him, he’s telling the truth.
“Why?” Wolfwood asks suspiciously.
Knives tilts his head.
“My children are the future, Punisher,” Knives says. “The only plans now are to support their safety and power.”
Children. That’s Wolfwood’s truest, most stupid shortcoming, he realizes. It had never occurred to him that Knives and Vash would have more children. (Honestly, most days, he tries to ignore the obvious evidence that the brothers are fucking. It’s probably partially because he’s used to the taboo of it and probably partially because it seems like another way for Knives to manipulate Vash.)
But, sure, it makes sense. Knives can produce his own army now. It’ll take time, but Knives clearly has it and hasn’t been afraid of playing the long game. And it’s an army that Vash will never fight.
But Knives has to keep Vash on his side in the short term to produce that army – which makes Wolfwood what? A wedding present of sorts?
The thought curdles his stomach.
“Your brother is also still alive.”
Wolfwood’s eyes snap to Knives. He still looks utterly calm, although they both know the magnitude of the truth that he’s just revealed.
“I’ll have him released from his duties to the Eye of Michael,” Knives says. “He can come and stay with you at the orphanage here.”
“Christ,” Wolfwood huffs. He’s going to take this new deal, because how could he not? Maybe he’s playing into Knives’ hands and helping sow the destruction of the human race, but what can he do on the outside? Drink and smoke himself into an early grave in the withering remains of the planet?
“Fine,” he snaps.
…
Calla is quiet. She’s never been so before – obedient, sure. But she’s always been wildly friendly. It doesn’t take long for Wolfwood to realize that she pulls away from him when he reaches for her, that she nearly flinches when he goes to hug her for the first time.
He wonders if this is how things started for a young Knives.
Wolfwood struggles. He’s not her parent. He’s not really anything to her, is he? He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t even fully know what happened.
He also doesn’t have anything to do here. It’s all waiting for now – waiting for Calla to decide if she’s going to talk to him again, waiting for Liv and the orphans to show up. He tinkers with his bike. He tries to take in nature and be at peace and the sort of shit he knows that he isn’t made for.
It's practically a relief when he catches her messing around with the Punisher.
He clears his throat behind her, and she jumps. He can see the feathers at the back of her neck fluffing up in alarm through her hair.
She turns and looks guiltily at him for just a second before crossing her arms and turning defiant.
He stares at her, and she stares him right back down. It’s a look he’s seen on both of her parents. It’s unlucky for her that he has some practice in waiting it out.
“They put me in a bulb!” she finally explodes. “In a Plant tank! Dad told them to do it to him, and there was nothing I could do to stop any of it! He wouldn’t fight at all – but then –” She chokes on her words. “He killed them all.” Tears bead in her eyes. “Are humans always going to be hurting me? What am I supposed to do about that? I want to be powerful enough to protect myself, but I’m scared of being…” She trails off from her ramblings, but Wolfwood gets the gist. She’s scared of being as powerful as she almost certainly is going to be, if Knives and Vash are anything to go off of.
“Some humans are going to be scared of you, sure,” Wolfwood answers, because he figures he owes her the truth as he understands it.
“But I don’t want them to be scared of me!” she screams. “I don’t feel different than them!” And Wolfwood wonders if this was what Vash was like when he was young. So desperate to be loved that he made himself as soft as he could.
“Not all of them will be, Callie,” he answers. “I’m not afraid of you. But you are going to be more powerful than almost every living being you meet. It’s up to you to decide what you’re going to do with that power.” He shrugs. “You’re the only one who can decide. No matter what me or your dads tell you.”
She smears her tears away and nods miserably, head toward the ground now.
“So, why were you messin’ with the Punisher?” he asks, nodding toward his cross.
“I thought I should maybe be able to shoot,” she says.
He really, really shouldn’t be charmed by that, but he is.
“I’ll teach you if you need to learn how,” he promises her. He believes that she’s safe here and also that she’s going to be coming into much more power than whatever a gun can give her. But all the same, this is a planet where it’s important to know how to protect yourself.
She shuffles toward him and wraps her arm tightly around his middle.
“I love you,” she mumbles.
The words jolt through him. She’s said them before, but they’ve never been with so much weight and gravity. He struggles to think of anyone who has said them to him with so much purpose before.
He isn’t a person made for love.
“I love you, too, kiddo,” he ends up saying, resting a hand on her head.
…
It’s weird watching Vash be pregnant. He wishes he could say otherwise, but he can’t. It’s weird in the same way that watching Knives be patient and kind with Calla or Vash is. Or the same way as it is for himself to be building something, to be keeping a watch over other kids or being reunited with Livio.
His kids will grow up better than any other on the planet. They’ll grow up not to be afraid of Plants. They’ll grow up bowing to Knives.
Wolfwood is one of the few people who can come and go from the domed city. When it gets to be too much, he leaves. Usually, he just goes to visit Roberto, who is continuing on as if nothing has changed, still smoking his way across the desert, banging out stories that usually don’t mean much.
There’s a solidarity when they smoke and drink together. They could talk about what goes on beneath the dome and Wolfwood’s scrambled feelings about it, about how he wishes, a lot of the time, that Vash had just put a bullet in Knives’ skull but that this probably better than if Knives had just destroyed the whole planet. Probably. He longs for a simple, clean solution. He’s used to getting that with killing.
The twins arrive and are a force of nature. Wolfwood is among the first people to hold them, but he knows he’ll never be involved in their lives as much as he in Calla’s. For as relatively close in age as they all are, the world has changed completely.
…
“I think Vash is dying.” Meryl whispers the words so quickly that Wolfwood can’t make them out at first.
“What?” Wolfwood hisses back at her, catching her arm too roughly. Vash has been carrying around baby number four, fulfilling Knives’ dreams of breeding a little Plant army, but Wolfwood had never expected that something like labor would knock out Vash the Stampede. It seems almost heresy to insinuate that Vash could actually die.
Meryl is flustered and overwhelmed; she grasps back at Wolfwood.
“The baby is stuck and they can’t stop the bleeding,” Meryl continues.
Shit, shit.
“We have to get Calla and the twins,” Wolfwood whispers back.
Meryl freezes.
“What?”
“We have to get Calla and the twins,” Wolfwood repeats. His mind is racing now, formulating a plan. They obviously won’t be able to take his motorcycle out, but he knows a couple of folks still have cars. Ava and Audrey will be asleep still, so they should be able to move fast. He knows they’ll cry for Knives when they wake, but hopefully they’ll be far away from the domed city by then.
He doesn’t know how Calla will react.
God, this is going to be hard. They’re going to have on the run from Knives until Calla and the twins come of age, and Wolfwood knows that Vash bowed out of that decision. He can’t believe that he’s going to take it on – just him and Meryl.
“What the hell are you saying?!” Meryl says.
“Meryl,” he says. He takes her by the shoulders, although the use of her actual name is enough to properly capture her attention. “Knives is going to lose it if Vash dies. He’s going to turn the kids into soldiers and go back to killing every human he sees. We have to get them out of here.”
Meryl’s eyes widen. Wolfwood realizes that none of this has occurred to her. She’s been so focused on Vash that she hasn’t thought about anything else.
She shakes her head.
“Vash might pull through…”
“We have to be ready to move if he isn’t,” Wolfwood says. He’s almost annoyed with himself that he doesn’t have a plan ready for this. He should have. Because, God, there’s also Livio and his own kids to think about.
Meryl takes in a deep breath and squares her shoulders.
“I’m going to go back to Vash,” she says. “But I’ll find you.”
She walks away, leaving Wolfwood agitated. He lights up a cigarette as he strides over to Vash’s house. He checks in briefly, making sure that Calla, Ava, and Audrey are all still there, all where they’re supposed to be. He plans as he moves, trying to decide where they’ll go first, where he’ll tell Livio to take the orphans.
He frets and calculates all night, lining things up in his head for their flight.
When Meryl finally comes back to him, she’s crying. Adrenaline pings in Wolfwood’s system, knocking him up another gear into getting ready.
“He’s okay,” is what comes out of her mouth instead. “He’s okay.”
Wolfwood goes shaky at the revelation, mirroring Meryl’s reaction. It’s a relief in so many ways. He cares about Vash, of course he does, he’s long past the point of not admitting that. But it’s also uncomfortable that so much of the safety of his world relies on one man. In many ways, that isn’t new. Vash has almost always been the only one who can do anything about Knives. But – Wolfwood has so much to lose now. He’s responsible for the care of so much now.
It takes him hours before he can bring himself to see Vash.
Thankfully, Vash is alone when Wolfwood drags himself in, just the new baby for company. Wolfwood whistles when he sees him.
“He’s a big one,” Wolfwood comments. His head is tilted toward the baby, but really he’s studying Vash. He looks maybe just a hair more tired than usual, but nothing to suggest that he came close to dying just hours before. Instead, he’s just smiling at the baby as if nothing could make him happier in the world.
“His name is Bay,” Vash says. “You should hold him.”
Wolfwood carefully extracts the baby from his crib and then takes a seat beside Vash’s bed. In his arms, Bay half opens his eyes, which are, unsurprisingly, a vivid blue, still lined with glowing Plant markings.
“Welcome to the world, Leaves,” Wolfwood murmurs.
Vash snorts, accepting the new nickname his child has been graced with. Apparently, Knives had only found out about Wolfwood calling Calla “Noodles” and had a bit of a hissy fit over how undignified it is. Wolfwood doesn’t think that he’s yet learned the twins are “Sticks” and “Straw,” respectively, because of their long, straight hair.
Bay yawns wide and then falls back asleep in Wolfwood’s arms while Wolfwood rocks him a little.
“How you doin’, Needles?” Wolfwood asks, looking at Vash properly.
“I’m glad he’s here,” Vash says, predictable to a fault.
Wolfwood pauses. At first he think it’s not his place to press, but, fuck it, he’s in now. He’s been in for a while. He might not be any of the kids’ parents, but he’s been raising them alongside Vash.
“Are you happy?” he asks bluntly. “Is this what you wanted?”
He expects a bullshit answer, some smile, some placating words. But Vash seems to garner that he’s being serious, and his eyes widen a little. But Vash actually considers before answering. He chews at his lower lip.
“It’s never been what I imagined, but I find my happiness in it,” Vash says.
“That’s not the same as happy,” Wolfwood insists.
“I dream big, Nick,” is what Vash says instead, with a soft smile and soft eyes.
He’s not a being made for true happiness, is what Wolfwood takes this as. That his happiness would come from his brother giving up all his vendetta against humans, and that’s never going to happen entirely, not really.
“And what if they turn on you?” Wolfwood asks, looking down at the baby in his arms. “What if they all side with Knives and decide to kill everything off?”
“Don’t tell me that you’re scared of my daughters now,” Vash says. And it’s made to sound light, but it’s with that undercurrent of steel that Wolfwood has come to know of Vash.
He looks up from Bay, and Vash is looking at him intently, with the gaze that can read straight through to the truth of a person’s soul.
“You’ve raised them, Nick,” Vash says. “My kids play with your kids. Do you think they’re going to want to kill humans?”
“No,” Wolfwood admits.
“My dream,” Vash says quietly, putting a hand on Bay’s belly, “is that they’ll be a better bridge between Plants and humans than Nai and I were. That dream is big, but it feels possible most days.”
He looks imploringly up at Wolfwood.
“You have too much faith in the goodness of the world, Spikes,” Wolfwood says.
“Sometimes that’s what the world needs,” Vash answers.