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The desert of No Man's Land is a constantly changing terrain, the sand dunes shifting and forming over time by great winds or wyrm movement. The monotonous color of orangey red sand stretches out for iles and makes it difficult to see any sort of change in the surrounding area making for at best a bumpy ride, and at worst someone can even drive over the edge of a dune without noticing until it’s too late.
Meryl can’t be blamed for the gang having to walk the rest of the way to civilization, however far out that is from here, but that doesn’t stop Wolfwoods growing irritation as the sweat trickles down his back as he wonders if the same would have happened if he were the one driving. Yet every time the group gets in a car the smaller woman always plops herself in the driver's seat, claiming to be the only one who can corral Vash the Stampede to their next destination with no ‘funny business’. What a bold claim.
Traveling by foot is a task any sane person would avoid at all costs. There's no way to avoid the melting heat and it’s almost impossible to carry enough water on one person to make it between towns. Navigation is complicated with two suns and no discernable poles to rely on, many people wander out into the unknown space between towns and are never seen again. So far it’s always worked out for the best whenever the group has to travel by foot to just follow Vashs lead, he has the most experience walking through the desert, which usually means he knows how to get out of the desert.
This still doesn’t help with the gang activity that runs rampant out here, with the pacifistic nature of their desert guide, they could practically kiss their water supply goodbye the moment their engine went out. Not that anyone else would let it get taken without a fight, but still, some shit luck and it’s over for all of them.
As he stress smokes his third cigarette of the day, Wolfwood can practically feel his senses working in overdrive taking in all of the nothing around him. There's sand on every horizon, there is sand in front, behind and below him, there is sand stretching out until it meets the sky in peaks and valleys of more sand. There's sand in his shoes, his pants, hell even his cigarette has sand in it. The only thing to break up this insanely boring view is the people around him. So, even though Wolfwood has already spent hours of his life observing Vash, he still finds himself sneaking peeks at him from behind his shades.
It’s easy to forget that Vash isn’t human sometimes. He looks human enough, if you ignore his pointy teeth and somewhat too long limbs, he's definitely been around long enough to know what humans are or are not capable of to better blend in. That's not to say there aren’t moments in which his inhumanness comes through, like when he displays a superhuman amount of strength and casually tries to shrug it off, or that he can shoot a man's gun out of his hand from another room. Vash can claim its practice all he wants but there's no way a human could do any of that without some sort of additional enhancements, or at least extra senses.
All this is to say, when Vash says he sees something up ahead the group doesn’t question him, even if all they can see is more sand in every direction.
After what felt like iles of walking, Milly's curious voice breaks the tense silence of the group,
“What is it? A truck?” With a cute head tilt, she put her open hand in front of her eyes to try and block the glare of light reflecting off in the distance.
“No, it’s way too misshapen to be a truck, besides there's nothing to crash into out here.” which feels hypocritical in Wolfwood's opinion to hear Meryl say that, but he has to admit shes right, it is too misshapen to be a regular vehicle. She scrunches up her face into a squint trying to better see the metal craft of some kind, but it’s still too far to make out the details, something about it feels off.
It's way too small to be a Sand Steamer, but too big to be some sort of personal transportation. Something about it makes the hair on the back of Wolfwood's neck rise and he too tries to get a better look at it. It doesn’t seem to be moving, nor is it covered in neon which crosses out the Bad Lads Gang.
Throughout all of this, despite clearly being able to see it better, Vash says nothing. Wolfwood catches Meryl's eye as the two of them quietly acknowledge the strangeness of the situation.
The wind around them designates that a Sand Storm must be approaching, and without any sort of shelter they’re sort of out of options, so without another word the group decides to continue their approach to the strange vessel. There's not much else to lose out here.
The closer they get to the foreign object the more focused Vash becomes. Vash isn’t the tallest member of the group, but he does have the longest legs, normally he would purposefully slow down his walking speed especially when traveling through the deserted parts of No Man's Land so Meryl doesn’t have to struggle to keep up. But right now it’s as though he’s completely forgotten he has company as his gate speeds up the closer he gets until he's practically in a full sprint.
“Oi! Spikey!'' With The Punisher slung over his back, Wolfwood starts an uncomfortable trot as he follows behind Vash, leaving the girls to chase after them at a more human pace. It’s never good to have too much distance between a traveling party in the shifting, windy deserts of No Man's Land, lest someone gets eaten by a Wyrm or engulfed by the sand itself without anyone even noticing.
More sweat trickles down Wolfwood's back, it’d be easy to blame on the two suns beating down on him, but something just feels wrong here.
The craft in front of them looks futuristic, though on this planet that just means it's from the past. From what sticks out of the sand Wolfwood can tell it's quite large, maybe the size of a small house. It has a sleek design despite the damage it's clearly taken over the years, the solar panels covering the surfaces of what were once the wings of the craft are gravely scratched by the years of sand erosion. The front panel looks like it was once a window, but either it was tinted to start with or the glass changed color over time from the grime that's settled into the crevices, either way it's impossible to see inside of its dark orangy color. The entire left side of the ship is still submerged in the sand dune.
Something feels wrong here.
–
It can’t be.
It would be impossible.
The desert was combed through as best they could between the inhabited cities many times over, in the beginning to find survivors that may have wandered away from the crash sites, and then in the following years by those who did survive to find any sort of usable scrape or technology.
On top of that, Ship Five was said to be in the worst condition, with the fewest number of survivors. The people on board had the least amount of time from when the alarms activated to when the ship finally blew up.
This stretch of land must have been traveled hundreds of times over, by rescuers, bandits, and sand steamers, so it has to be impossible that an escape pod from Ship Five would still be here. Left untouched for over One Hundred and Fifty years.
This pod is different then the one Vash had escaped in with his brother all those years ago. No, this one is something Vash only learned about after the crash from countless numbers of days studying the ship's schematics, and all of the possible escape pods in hope of aiding Brad and Luida in searching for survivors. Vash could recognise any piece of a SEEDS ship, no matter how worn down it has become. That's how he knows this one is meant to evacuate people in cryosleep. Meaning it's possible whoever is on this ship could still be alive, so long as the ship hasn’t lost power.
It’s possible there's more survivors who’d been left behind and forgotten for over a century.
It felt as if the world around Vash slipped away as his vision tunneled in on the small piece of his childhood home, of the people who could be inside. The deaths attributed to his mistakes grow in numbers every day humanity is stuck on this barren planet, but in front of him lies the possibility of that number going down, no matter how infinitesimally. There's also the possibility that the number of deaths on his hands could grow. The thought of either terrifies him.
The wind starts to pick up, blowing hot air and sand everywhere.
“Vash!”
Meryl’s slightly panicked voice startles him, having forgotten anyone was with him, his mind had narrowed down to just the hunk of metal before him. Vash turns to look at her, just beyond her shoulder he sees the start of a fast approaching sandstorm; lighting cracks in the not so far distance as large quantities of sand start almost rolling towards them, it's somewhat mesmerizing watching the gigantic dunes start to shift as if they’re crossing the desert themselves.
“I don’t know about you two,” she uses her head to nod at Wolfwood “but there’s no way Milly and I can survive out here in that storm. We have to find a way inside and fast!” she has to slightly raise her voice to be heard over the rumbling sound.
“Follow me,” Vash hurries to the back portion of the spaceship, luckily it's not obstructed by the sand dune that buries the front entrance. To an outside observer it just looks like one smooth piece of continuous metal, but as Vash traces his hand against one specific part, the faint glow of a monitor appears showing its age in how dim its lit, and with just a few familiar taps a keypad of sorts pops up.
Tap middle left. Double tap top middle. Tap bottom left. Tap middle right. Tap top middle, tap bottom middle.
A pattern he’ll never forget.
A hatch door takes shape before their very eyes, the door hisses open slower than it should have, then it would have a hundred and fifty years ago, only fully opening with the assistance of Wolfwood's shoulder shoving it the rest of the way.
Sand starts to wip violently around them and the group rushes inside, Vash is the only one to hesitate at the door. It almost feels like he shouldn’t be allowed to enter this place, the countless faces of the deceased on the day of The Fall comes to mind, all the people he unknowingly assisted in the death of. He remembers running from the wreckage of Ship five, away from the bodies, the destruction and the guilt. He wonders if he’ll run again if faced with the same thing.
He enters anyway.
“Hurry up and close the door! Unless you want all that damn sand to get in here” Wolfwood yells as Vash turns back to force the hatch shut behind them.
The howl of the storm echoes through the metal chamber they find themselves in, the whole place dark except for an eerie glow and dimly lit flashing lights. He’s sure that if the ship had more power an emergency alarm would still be playing.
Wolfwood seems to be taking in his surroundings, folding his sunglasses and tucking them into his shirt. He slowly but confidently moves forward through the darkness, on high alert ready for an ambush, just in case they aren’t the only ones here.
Vash doesn’t know how to tell him that if there are any people on board, they've been asleep for longer than even Vash has been alive.
“What is this place? Is this part of Ship Three?” Meryl’s light voice bounces off the metal walls and comes back sounding hollow.
“No. This is from a different ship. Ship Five.”
“Ship Five?”
“Yeah. It’s where I was born.” At this both Meryl and Wolfwood shoot Vash a questioning glance, not that he feels the want to elaborate further. It’s already hard enough to be here, in a place so familiar yet so foreign to him, without dreading up the specifics of his past.
“So Ship Five is your home, Mr. Vash?” Milly always has a way of making things sound so innocent, so easy. The word Home sounds so casual coming from her.
“Something like that”
The group breaks off into a strained silence, the unknown of what they’ll come across putting them all on edge. It’s clear to Vash the darkness impedes the rest of them far more than it obstructs him, he watches as they stumble through the darkened hallway leading to the center room of the ship.
Vash finds himself trailing a few paces behind the group. The overall lack of power running through the ship is starting to fill him with apprehension. Even if there are Cryopods aboard, how would they have retained enough power to function? He knows there's not a Plant anywhere nearby, he would have heard her a long time ago if there was one, which leaves
the solar panels that had been on the wings as the only power source. The solar panels can only sustain so much of the ship, even in emergency power mode certain systems can only run so long, this pod was made with a much shorter use time in mind. With no power and no one to do maintenance for the last century Vash can feel his hope truly begin to wane.
He’s vaguely aware that they have entered the main room of the ship.
“Is that a person?”
Millys voice immediately draws Vash’s attention, pulling him from his thoughts, his neck snapping in her direction. Next to her is a cold sleep pod. It’s not lit up like it’s supposed to be, yet he can still clearly make out a person inside. There's no signs that the sleep pod is working, no light, no rhythmic hum of electricity and the woman inside looks so pale. It all feels wrong.
Vash hurries over to the monitor next to the pod, taping it awake and then quickly typing in the override code.
Tap middle left. Double tap top middle. Tap bottom left. Tap middle right. Tap top middle, tap bottom middle.
Psssssssh. Cli-ck. The sound of decompressing air fills the room around them and the click of a lock unlatching as the door to the cryopod swings open.
Nothing happens.
The young woman inside doesn’t so much as gasp for breath.
Vash's right hand steadily reaches up as he places two fingers on her pulse point.
Nothing.
There's no sign that the young woman had ever woken up, no struggle to escape the locked pod, it looks as though she had passed away peacefully in her sleep.
Before Vash can begin to process what exactly this means, he hears Meryl gasp.
“Are these all full of people?” her hand covers over her mouth as she takes in the amount of pods surrounding them. It's nowhere near the amount of cold sleep chambers that she saw on Ship Three, counting in at maybe only 20 total, but something is wrong here. None of these are lit up.
Vash turns as he slowly takes in the scene before him. His limbs feel like they're made of lead.
He walks up to the next pod.
Tap. TapTap. Tap. Tap. Tap, Tap.
Psssssssssh. Cli-ck.
No Gasp.
He goes up to the next one.
Tap. TapTap. Tap. Tap. Tap, Tap.
Pssssssshhhhh Cli-ck.
Nothing.
And the next one.
Tap TapTap Tap TapTap.
Nothing
And the next one.
TapTapTapTapTapTap.
Nothing.
And the next one.
Nothing.
And the next one.
And the next one.
And the one after that.
“Christ,” Wolfwood's voice is barely audible as he speaks under his breath. No wonder this place felt so wrong, they've practically been walking through a graveyard.
“Spikey, just quit it,” Watching him go from pod to pod is depressing. They all know at this point that the rest will hold the same results. There’s nothing to be found except for more disappointment.
Wolfwood's demand is met with silence as Vash goes to yet another pod. His face is shrouded in shadows, indiscernible to the rest of the group.
“There's no point in continuing. All we’re doing now is disturbing the dead,” Wolfwood takes a step towards Vash, he’s not sure why, maybe to step between him and the next pod? Would that even do anything to stop him?
“No.”
Tap TapTap Tap TapTap.
“Huh?! What do you mean ‘No’?” His irritation is starting to spike, he could really use a cigarette right now. He puffs his chest up in an attempt at normality despite not having it in him to actually argue with Vash.
“There's still a chance some of them made it. I can’t just turn my back on them.”
Wolfwood goes quiet for a second, “Of course you can’t,” he takes a step away from Vash as he sticks an unlit cigarette in his mouth. He won’t light it here, but at least the action is familiar.
TapTapTapTapTapTap.
“I just don’t understand, if none of them have made it so far, then how could someone still be alive?” As an investigative reporter Meryl always asks only the most reasonable of questions. Even if hearing it feels like a punch to the gut.
“It’s the ship, this type of escape vessel is made to manage its power usage and prioritize certain passengers over others. So long as the solar panels on the outside were uncovered at least a few hours every year then there's a chance someone made it.” even to his own ears it sounds as though Vash just can’t accept what’s plainly laid out before his very eyes. The ship was practically consumed by the sand dunes, there's no reason to assume it had ever been uncovered before, making the solar panels practically useless. But he could still hope. He hasn’t given up hope yet. Not yet. He can’t.
“Prioritize certain passengers? In what way?”
Taptaptaptaptaptap.
“Based on who has the greatest ability to save more lives,” Taptaptaptaptaptap. “So like a doctor,”
TapTapTapTapTapTap.
Pssssh Cli-ck.
“or because they were prepared for spacefaring an engineer, plant or otherwise, would be of high priority,” TapTapTapTapTapTap.
Wolfwood watches as Vash coldly explains what the ship would consider a more useful life, infodumping as if he were reading it out of a textbook, as he opens each and every pod only to be faced with yet another motionless passenger, he just wants Vash to stop. This whole ship was buried in the sands for who knows how long-
TapTapTapTapTapTap
-theres no way of knowing if it ever got enough power to sustain the passengers to begin with. Death is everywhere on No Mans Land, and it's a constant the inhabitants have learned to accept, except for Vash. Vash expects death, but he can never accept it. It's pitiful to watch. It feels wrong.
TapTapTapTapTapTap.
Yet again, there's no indication of life.
That was the final pod.
Seventeen of them. Seventeen more people Vash wasn’t there to save. Seventeen people left alone to die on this dry husk of a planet, none the wiser to whose fault it all was.
The silence of the group feels deafening, Vash standing with his back turned to his traveling companions staring into the final open pod. His body language portrays nothing as he stands stiffly, but inside he’s filled with grief. These people didn’t deserve to die. They weren’t even given the chance to wake up before it was over for them.
Behind him, Wolfwood turns his own back to the group as he sends a quiet parting prayer that the people stuck on this ship find peace. At least they never had to face their own death, it just happened peacefully in their sleep.
“We should do something for them.” Millys voice sounds wet, ever the caring and kind hearted person, even for people she’s never known, from a time she knows almost nothing about.
“We could come back and give them a proper burial, or we can say a few words, offer them a prayer for a safe passage into their next lifes” her words sound so genuine, but they all know that once they leave this place it’ll likely be buried in sand within a day, there could be another century before someone stumbles across this place again.
“That's a great idea. Thank you Milly.” Vash can hear his voice, but he can't feel the words, can’t feel the sentiment of gratitude at this time. He can’t bring himself to look away from the face of the middle aged man before him. What was his name? What did he do, why did he join Project Seeds. Did he hope for a better life on a new planet? Did he have a family?
To walk away right now feels like it would be a sin. There was no one there for these people when they died, it feels wrong to leave them again now. They deserve at least a moment of remembrance.
“Well, what about the pilot?” Meryl's inquisitive voice questions, her voice ringing out like a shot through Vashs mind, “Does this ship even have someone who would have steered it or would that all be done through computers as well?”
“...The pilot…” a dull spark of hope, with all the other pods around he’d almost forgotten, the pilot would have the highest priority. Likely only put to sleep once they’d entered the planet's atmosphere. They’d be in a separate unit in the nose of the ship where the control panels would be.
He quickly turns, rushing past his companions to go further into the escape vessel. The slow flashing lights do nothing to inhibit his ability to navigate to exactly where he wants to go.
“Hey-!” Wolfwood tries to reach for him, unlit smoke falling from his mouth, failing to do so as he once again finds himself trying to keep up with Vash’s extra long gate.
Vash only begins to slow down when can see a door in front of him, this would lead to the cockpit.
One last chance.
One final soul aboard this ship who could damn him a little less.
Hope and desperation are sometimes the same thing.
His hand shakes as it hovers over the keypad.
He can hear Wolfwood and the girls footsteps approaching behind him.
He doesn’t know if their presence makes this easier or harder.
Tap middle left. Double tap top middle. Tap bottom left. Tap middle right. Tap top middle, tap bottom middle.
Pssssssh
Cli-ck
The door to the cockpit opens.
—-
Wolfwood finally catches up to Vash as the door in front of him, big and heavy and made entirely out of metal unlike the previous cold sleep pods’ mostly glass doors, releases the air pressure from inside. The air that comes rushing out feels considerably colder than the air in the main part of the ship, causing a great gust of wind to wisp past.
It's colder than anything Wolfwood has ever experienced before, causing him to shutter. Absolutely not because he doesn’t know what's going on and that scares him. Just because it's cold.
Unlike with the hatch door that was the entrance to the ship, this one is in pristine condition, opening smoothly on its own. The moisture that must have been in the chamber now creates a dense fog that fills the space. It is clear this part of the ship must have maintained at least some power over the years, meaning whoever's inside must be one important person.
Wolfwood stands just barely behind Vash, peering over his shoulder so he too can view what's inside.
As the fog starts to dissipate and settle down around their feet Vash lets out a soft gasp.
Before them, still somewhat sitting up in a chair facing the main controls of the ship so her profile is facing them, sits who must have been the pilot.
She's a young woman, Older than Wolfwood but still only in her early to mid thirties. She has straight black hair, an angular jaw shape and a pointed nose. Her clothes are the same as every other person he’s ever seen on a Seeds ship so far, the only part that distinguishes her from the rest of those from the pods before is the slight frost lightly dusting her skin, and the fact that her chest is clearly starting to move in what could only be breathing. This one is alive.
Milly and Meryl approach silently from behind, not wanting to crowd the entrance way, unsure of what they’d found inside.
Vash just stands in the doorway staring, his face is almost impossible to read, it's almost a look of disbelief, or pain? But isn’t this what he wanted to find?
The woman starts to stir, Vash takes a half step forward and stumbles, falling to the ground.
“Hey careful! There's ice everywhere,” Wolfwood's voice seems to push the woman from her deep sleep and she slowly blinks her eyes open.
Vash remains on the floor staring on in shock, he's gone completely still, almost as if he is holding his breath.
Her eyes slowly start to take in the room around her, drifting from the top left, to the obstructed window in front of her then to the floor where she follows the shadows as her eyes find the entrance way. First she looks at Wolfwood, confusion clear in her expression, then her gaze sleepily follows his arm down to where he was reaching for Vash, still on the floor.
She stares for only a moment before her voice, soft and smooth despite a century of disuse, rolls over them,
“Vash.”
What the hell.
Wolfwood quickly turns his gaze down to Vash, hoping to find some sort of explanation as to how this woman knows his name, only to see his face twist up into an emotion he's never seen before. Tears silently forming in large pools, and then falling rapidly down his cheeks, the freezing air around them making them turn to ice once they hit the floor. Vash starts to practically crawl forward, unable to get his feet underneath him but clearly desperate to get closer to this mysterious woman.
“Rem,” his voice is so quiet it is barely audible even with Wolfwood less than a foot away.
Rem. Wolfwoods heard that name before, having spent a significant amount of time around Vash. Her name has only come up in conversation one time before, Vash never explaining who she was to him, but Wolfwood has heard the name many more times than that; frequently yelled out in the dead of night after what he always assumed to be night terrors. He’d never pried about her before, not thinking it a good idea to dredge up unwanted memories of the past, but now he wishes he had just so he’d know what to expect.
As Vash gets closer to Rem, his cries finally start to make a sound, wet choked off gasps fill the air as he finally makes it next to the chair she's in, grabbing onto her legs like a child would.
“Rem” his voice sounds like shattering glass, weak and small.
At this, Wolfwood sees both Meryl and Milly, stepping back, separating themselves from what's clearly a personal moment. He makes eye contact with Meryl as she looks back to him, she gestures with a nod of her head that he should follow suit.
Like hell he’d leave Vash alone with a strange woman he’s never met.
Without a word he turns back to face the scene in front of him.
Her hands, still lethargic and stiff in their movement, reach out to Vash’s face, gently caressing his cheeks.
“You’ve grown up to be so handsome,” she lovingly wipes away his tears, rubbing her thumb against the beauty mark under his left eye, ”How long have I been asleep? Don’t tell me I missed your second birthday.” Rem's eyes crinkle up as she smiles softly. Vash's laugh comes out as a croaked sob.
Second birthday? What's that supposed to mean? Surely to have any memories of her Vash would have had to have been much older than that last they saw each other.
“I’ve missed you so much, Rem” his flesh hand reaches up and grabs her left one, still resting on his face as he leans into her touch. Wolfwood feels as though he's intruding. He doesn’t budge.
Her hands shift to the side of his head as she starts taking in his changed appearance, turning his head side to side.
“Your hair. It's gotten darker? Did you figure out how to use your abilities as a Plant?” her eyebrows furrow in what appears to be concern, for what wolfwood has no idea. Why would the darker hair color indicate Plant abilities, and why would that be cause for concern? Everything about this just raises more questions for him.
Her gaze starts to drift down taking in the other changes about Vash.
“Your arm! Vash what happened!” In the quickest movement he’s seen from her yet, Rem reaches for Vash’s prosthetic arm grabbing his hand and pulling it close for inspection. She’s too focused on the physical changes that are proof time has passed without her and still too disoriented from her long sleep to question the look of hurt that crosses Vash’s face, likely remembering exactly how he’d lost his arm.
Wolfwoods never dared to ask before. He can’t say he isn’t interested in finding out.
““Rem I-” His voice cuts off as he starts again, his eyes looking far away but never leaving Rem’s face “I was so scared, I didn’t know what to do without you,” he's never heard Vash sound so… small before, so childlike in his fear. He clearly doesn’t know how to answer the question, too overwhelmed by the emotions he’s feeling at this moment.
“Oh honey, did it happen during the crash?” a look of sorrow flashes across his face.
He interlaces his prosthetic fingers with hers, bringing his flesh and blood hand to rest over top, feeling that she's real. This isn’t just another dream, she's really here. But how?
“Rem, I don’t understand, how are you here right now? I thought you were still on Ship Five when it went down?” He says her name as though it's a prayer. As if asking this question would make her disappear before his very eyes. She scrunches up her face in thought, as if she's trying to see something that's far away, the sleep finally seems to be leaving her as she recalls what probably felt like it’d happened only hours ago.
“At first I went to the control room to see if there was anything I could do to stop the ship from crashing, but we’d already entered this planet's gravitational field. There was no stopping it. I tried to evacuate everyone I could, but time was running out,” she starts to play with Vash’s fingers, looking deep in thought as she places her palm in his, her hand is smaller then his is, she stares at that a little too long, “I did what I could to save people.”
“Rem, you helped so many people. The Ships Falling wasn’t your fault, you did nothing wrong” Vash’s voice sounds almost desperate, broken yet firm like when he preaches to Wolfwood about how people dying is inherently wrong no matter the reason, how it's always somehow Vashs fault that something terrible happened. How he sounds when he thinks he’s guilty.
Wolfwood remains silent.
“Thank you for that Honey, but I know. When I was in the command center I could tell there was something wrong with the Navigation codes. There was nothing more I could do,” Vash's breath catches when she mentions the code, but Wolfwood doesn’t think she noticed.
The two of them keep staring at each other, almost like they refuse to look away. Rem looks like she's trying to take in all of Vash, his clothes, his facial features, his expressions. He still makes the same faces he did from when she remembers him, except there's a deeper sadness here. Vash looks like we want to say something, but no words are coming out.
Rems eyes finally drift back to Wolfwood, and with much more awareness in her expression she looks him up and down, glancing behind him and then back at Vash.
“Vash… Where's Kni?”
Two words that clearly crush Vash. His face crumples up again and the expression finally starts to make sense to Rem, theres grief on his face. Dread begins to pull in the base of her stomach.
Wolfwood grits his teeth and finally turns to face away, not wanting to have his expression be how she finds out the news.
Vash grimaces as he avoids her eyes, pain etched across his features.
“I have so much I need to tell you.”