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Wolfwood is half way back before everything goes to shit, roots retracting and ground shaking. It’s the same roots that he’s able to follow all the way to the top of the tower.
“What the hell is happening?” Wolfwood yells, kicking down the doors, bursting into the room he’d only seen once before. His eyes immediately land on Vash, who is floating in the middle of the giant tank that takes up most of the room, Meryl pounding on the glass. “Where is Knives?”
Meryl whips around, shocked that the undertaker decided to come back.
“I don’t know, things started to go wrong, they left so suddenly.” Meryl yells, turning to pound on the glass tank. “I can’t get him out of there, I don’t know how to get him out! He’s not responding!"
Wolfwood takes one look at the tank, at Vash floating lifeless and unmoving. Knives wouldn’t kill Vash… would he?
“Stand back!” The tank is made of glass and he should be able to take care of it quickly.
Wolfwood shoots one round into the glass and it shatters, thin cracks spread out like spider webs, water trickling from the small hole made by the shot. Sharp tings echo throughout the room until the pressure finally breaks the glass, shattering and unleashing a wave of liquid, a torrent covering the room and draining out just as quickly. Vash is left in a heap of tangled limbs on the floor, face down in the shallow liquid. Meryl and Wolfwood are left with soaked legs.
“Vash!” Meryl yells, running and falling to her knees at his side. She turns him over, his face pale and expression slack as she puts her ear to his chest. “His heart’s still beating!”
“Vash, come on Vash, wake up, open your eyes,” Meryl begs, shaking his shoulders. His head lolls side to side.
“Get out of my way,” Wolfwood snaps, pushing her out of the way, leaning over Vash, that same protective feeling rearing its ugly head, not that he has any right to feel that anymore. “Needle-noggin?”
His heart constricts seeing Vash like this, weak and pale, because he decided to leave him with Knives. If he had stayed behind… maybe this wouldn’t have happened. He nearly growls when Meryl rests her hand on Vash’s chest, feeling territorial and protective of him, he wants to stand over Vash and not let anyone else touch him.
Not let anyone else hurt him.
But the next words out of Meryl’s mouth are like a knife between his ribs.
“I don’t think he’s breathing.” Meryl looks up at Wolfwood, tears flooding her eyes, noticing now that his chest isn’t moving. “Wolfwood, he’s not breathing.”
“Shit, his lungs are probably filled with whatever junk was in that tank.” Wolfwood says, quickly rolling Vash onto his side. Meryl scoots back, her hand clasped over her mouth as he watches Wolfwood hit Vash’s back with his fist. “Gotta get it out.”
Wolfwood pounds on Vash back, over and over.
“Come on, you have got to cough it up, breathe Bondie!”
“Wolfwood, it’s not working, it’s been too long.” Meryl sobs.
“No it hasn’t, he’ll breathe, he will!” Wolfwood yells, letting Vash fall back onto his back. Vash’s lips are starting to turn blue, just around the edges. Wolfwood panics, thinking back to something he’s only read about in books before. He pinches Vash’s nose and leans down to seal his mouth over Vash’s lips, pushing a full breath into his mouth and hopefully into his lungs. He gives three breaths before he pulls away, pushing on Vash’s chest with both of his hands. He repeats that process over and over, until his vision goes blurry with tears and he wonders if he’s even accomplishing anything at all, with the way Vash continues to lie still underneath him.
“Wolfwood… Wolfwood stop, it’s time to stop.” Meryl sobs at him from the side. “He’s g-gone.”
He doesn’t though. He can’t stop, he can’t admit that Vash is gone.
If Vash dies here, Wolfwood might as well have killed him with his own hands. So he keeps going, breathing breath after breath into Vash, tears streaming from his eyes, dripping off the tip of his nose and onto Vash’s face.
“Vash, breathe god damn it!” Wolfwood yells, pounding one last time on Vash’s chest, as the finality of the moment hits him, and an ugly sound spills from his throat.
In the next moment, Vash’s back arches off the ground, and water spills from his mouth, gurgling and bubbling out. Wolfwood reacts quickly, turning Vash back onto his side, supporting his head as Vash coughs up wave after wave of water, pulling in choking, harsh breaths in between
“That’s it, Vash, just get it out.” Wolfwood sighs, closing his eyes in relief. He rests his forehead against Vash’s shoulder.
Vash lifts one shaking arm, his hand weakling grasping the arm that Wolfwood has braced across his chest as he sucks in ragged breaths.
“You’re alright.” Wolfwood reassures him quietly, even though he’s not even sure if he is, or will be. He’s not sure how long Vash wasn’t breathing.
“Wolfwood?” Meryl asks, her voice quiet, echoing in the large room, breaking him out of that particular train of thought.
He looks up to find her scrubbing at her face, sniffling, red eyes.
“We should probably get out of here.”
“Right, yeah you’re right.” Wolfwood mutters, hates that he can’t give Vash more time to recover before dragging him off into the unknown. As it is, he’s yet to open his eyes, still shaking miserably in Wolfwood’s arms. “You with us, Needle-noggin?”
Vash weakly nods. And Wolfwood feels so awful for the way he scoops Vash up, hefting him over his shoulder with a whispered sorry. This is not the care that he wishes he could grant him, or that care that he deserves.
But it’s what he has to do.
“Alright, let’s go,” Wolfwood says, stooping just low enough to grab the punisher by a strap and dragging it along with him.
“Will you be able to carry both?” Meryl asks, following close behind.
“I carried you at the same time, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but he’s gotta be heavier than me, right?”
“It’s fine, can we just get out of here?” Wolfwood pleads, ready to get Vash away from everything that his brother had planned, even if it failed.
They run, and don’t look back.