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It wasn’t obvious at first.
At first, when all is said and done, both of them look worse for wear and that’s saying something. Every strand of Vash’s hair is dyed pitch black and the scripture etched upon his skin no longer glows as ethereally as it once did. Every part of Wolfwood’s body aches and though months upon months of physical therapy helps him regain his health, his muscles would never have the strength to wield the Punisher as fluidly as he once did.
The most obvious detail is this: they are hurting, but they are alive.
Where there’s life, there’s hope; where there’s hope, there’s healing and where there’s healing, there’s peace.
Where there’s peace, there’s love.
The journey to reach it isn’t an easy one. The entire planet had a lot of healing to do and even more dead to bury. Nobody comes out of it unscathed but everybody wants, no, needs to move on in some shape or form.
The process is neither linear nor easy; then again such is the life on No Man's Land. So, they roll up their sleeves and start climbing whatever learning curve was set before them, have it be starting the first of many visits to a loved one’s grave, supporting a friend battered in both body and spirit, trading a gun and bullets for hammer and nails, or simply finding it in yourself to not wake up resenting your continued existence.
Slowly but surely, Vash and Wolfwood see that the hope is here to stay in all its gritty rugged tenacity. Every time their legs burn, it’s from playing tag with the children instead of being chased out of town. Vash trades his gun for farming tools and Wolfwood’s shoulders adjust to the weight of wood.
Healing comes with its fair share of hurts, still. Nights when neither of them can sleep from nightmares too vivid. Moments where Vash stands outside, looking at the endless horizon and its ageless invitation for him to run away into, disappear into before its neighbour ‘disaster’ comes to collect its due. Moments where Wolfwood scrubs his hands raw, trying to rid himself of blood unseen but with a scent so heavy he could taste it.
But then the twin suns will rise and no amount of hurt can change the fact that they’re still alive. Gradually, Vash sits by the window instead of standing outside while Wolfwood counts the beads of his rosary to spare his skin and their water supply. They whisper about their nightmares until their heartbeats lull each other back to slumber.
Hopeland Orphanage survives and rebuilds and when Wolfwood looks at all the children and teens chattering around the table, bellies full of Miss Melanie’s stew while the staticky radio plays some tune or another, he could cry, realizing that this place truly embodies the ‘hope’ in its name.
One day, one of the boys tug on Vash’s pants leg and asks: “You’ll stay with us, right angel?”
It was a nickname many of the younger ones have taken to calling Vash. Not out of reverence but tender trusting fondness. What should've been a title that reminds him of his otherness instead speaks of belonging.
“Yes.” The word, no, the declaration falls out of his lips and in that moment, he realized he wanted it to be a fact.
Wolfwood’s eyes meet his and any lingering doubts Vash might’ve had faded into obscurity with The Humanoid Typhoon.
Him and Vash are given a room to sleep in. It’s small and it stinks up to high heaven easily unless the window’s cracked open but it’s theirs. They’re gifted drawings to decorate the walls with, Wolfwood hauls in a small trash bin for his sucker wrappers and Vash no longer hesitates to take his prosthetic off the moment he enters the room.
They find peace in each other, peace even when they’re away from each other but together in this haven they’ve settled in. And when they find love, they decide to keep it, hoard it even.
They make love in that room plenty of times. However, it’s only months later that they exchange vows under the bell tower. Although neither wanted a big ceremony, Luida dug through Ship 3’s storage until she found a veil for Vash. Livio is entrusted to escort Lina and Sheryl to December. Milly and Melanie chatter for hours on end, trading stories. Meryl takes enough photos to fill an entire album.
The children eagerly shower the newlywed couple in confetti as they kiss and later, both men would guffaw as they continue to find traces of it in their hair and various impossible corners of their room.
Nothing really changes. They continue to care for one another as shown through small gestures; fresh donuts for Vash, a new supply of suckers for Wolfwood, memorizing and slowly learning how to recognize the seeds Vash plants, buying new chisels and carving knives when Wolfwood’s old set becomes too dull and rusty.
One day, as Wolfwood is trying to shape the wood into a bird’s wing arched juuuuust so, Vash bursts into his workshop like a bullet.
“Nick, Nick, Nick, look!” he gushed, almost headbutting Wolfwood’s chin as he leaned his head close.
Reaching up, he parted his hair to reveal a single grey strand.
“I have a grey hair!” Vash beamed as if he’s made a revolutionary discovery.
Wolfwood rolled his eyes. “So yer looks finally match yer age, congrats.” He huffed.
Vash merely giggles, sitting on Wolfwood’s lap with a wiggle in his perky ass and oh, Wolfwood suddenly feels another kind of wood that needs work.
And judging by the glint in his husband’s eyes, he was eager to get started too.
A month later, the nausea arrives. Two weeks later, head all but dunked down the toilet, Vash and Wolfwood rev up Angelina 2.0 and head to Ship 3 for a check-up.
The source of Vash’s sudden sickness was in the form of a mass of cells no bigger than a raspberry.
Vash was pregnant.
Everyone, from the parents to the doctors, were stunned speechless. Vash and Wolfwood have had plenty of intercourse with little to no protection but none of them ever took. In fact, between Vash’s unique physiology from birth and Wolfwood’s near-disastrous one from the Eye’s experiments, both had silently come to terms with the possibility of infertility.
And yet, there it was, there they were, a naturally conceived Plant-human hybrid child, thoroughly debunking it.
Many tears were shed and many tongues wagged to spread the news. Luida and Brad make Vash promise to visit monthly for check-ups, the children were excited at the possibility of a new playmate, Melanie embraced them both in a bone-crushing hug only rivalled by Livio’s, Lina and Sheryl penned enthusiastic letters of congratulations while Meryl and Milly showed up in person with their arms full of parenting books and baby toys.
Every night, Vash’s markings would pulse a gentle lavender as breathtaking as its original blue. He’d sing to their child, sharing feelings through a language no human, including Wolfwood, could ever hope to comprehend. And Wolfwood would lay his rosary along Vash’s linea nigra to mutter a prayer or two though really, it’s because both mother and child loved hearing the timbre of his voice.
As the little rounded stiffness at the base of Vash’s abdomen expanded, he and Wolfwood had many deep discussions. Eventually, both decided to move to a house close enough to visit the orphanage whenever they wanted to but by the outskirts to avoid too many prying eyes.
In their new home, Wolfwood constructs their picket fence and a shelf to display their collection of photos and other paraphernalia. Outside, Vash starts another garden, even adding a few precious flowers seeds Luida specially gifted him. Though, as his center of gravity dropped and he was reduced to waddling, his more ambitious projects were put on hold.
As time passed, their anxiety rose. Vash dealt with all the usual pregnancy symptoms: nausea, bodily aches, mood swings, increased libido (a definite silver lining), fatigue and difficulty sleeping, strange food cravings, messy accidents and breast swelling.
They weren’t pleasant to deal with but they were expected. What wasn’t expected however, was how long the pregnancy would last.
Their child was as big as a watermelon before the end of the third trimester. Luida hypothesized that Independents evolved to give birth to larger, more developed infants to increase their survival rate. Although everyone swore up and down that Vash’s pregnancy would not be treated as a scientific curiosity, the lack of knowledge forced him to remain on Ship 3 for closer monitoring.
They reached the 9 month mark....then another....another and another, marking it a year.
Vash’s water finally broke.
By some miracle, Wolfwood managed to stay relatively composed as Vash crushed his hand, markings practically white-hot and feathers sprouting through every inch of exposed skin.
But the moment he was holding a little girl with Vash’s hair and Wolfwood’s nose, he collapsed.
She definitely came out bigger than a human newborn, crying a bird-like pitch, but in his arms, she was still so small. So small and precious, his entire world swaddled inside a blanket knitted by her Aunt Milly.
The first thing Emma Saverem Wolfwood knew of the world was her mother’s voice, the songs of her aunts and her father’s strong arms.
Wolfwood doesn't want to let her go. Doesn't know if he can after knowing how it feels to hold her.
Alas, he ultimately has to as little Emma demands to be fed. Vash unzips his hoodie to breastfeed her. The moment Emma smelled her mother’s scent, she quickly latches on and needs little coaxing to suckle.
“Oh, oh hi baby.” Vash cooed as a pair of eyes reminiscent of his own open to finally put a face to the voice she’s heard for so long.
“She’s beautiful.” Wolfwood cradled the back of her downy head. “She’s perfect, we made her. She’s ours.”
The rest of the year is a dizzying mix of euphoria and alertness. Vash and Wolfwood shower Emma with all the love in their hearts while keeping a close eye on her milestones.
So far, each of them was achieved at an overall average pace; it took 3 months for her to lift her head and another before she could roll over on her own. At 6 months old, she started sitting upright and gleefully tried to rip Vash’s hair off whenever it came within reach. Such a strong grip, she must've gotten it from Wolfwood.
It still wasn’t obvious by the time Emma was 1-year-old and having all her firsts: her first steps, her first words, her first preferences. But one day, when giving Emma her daily bath, Wolfwood marvels at how big and heavy she’s gotten, taking up more space in the basin she’s splashing in.
That night, Wolfwood’s shaving by the mirror when he notices some grey camouflaged on his razor. He stares at his reflection, notes the length of hair left untrimmed, the lines carved from scowls now deepened from laughter, smiles and age. The man looking back at him isn’t someone to be feared, it’s someone to cherish for what could be more precious than the chance to grow old?
2 more years pass, Emma grows into a 3-year-old with a never-ending list of ‘whys?’ and her favourite possession is a pop-up storybook with thomas. They take her to her uncle’s apple tree, the branches swaying despite no visible breeze. A tiny bud will kiss the crown of Emma’s head and before they leave, she’ll wrench herself from her parents’ hands to give the trunk a hug.
“He’s sad.” She’d pout.
“He is, isn’t he?” Vash blinked back his tears.
“Bye bye.” She’d wave farewell to the leaves and the next time they visit, Emma tries her first of many apples that’d become her favourite fruit.
One night, after putting Emma to bed, after pulling Vash apart with his hands and mouth and cock until neither of them knew their own names, Wolfwood is washing his hair when he notices it.
Notices them.
The greys, plural, multiple.
Vash yelped as he plucked one to show him.
“You really are a ma now.” He teased.
Vash smiles, crow’s feet wrinkling at the corners of his eyes and-
There are laugh lines creasing his face, each one a record of how often he actually smiles now. There are bags under his eyes from the perpetual fatigue of raising a hyperactive child, swells of softness where there was once only bone and sinewy muscles, a bruise on his elbow from when he bumped into the counter-
Both of them look the same age.
Both of them are aging at the same pace.
Tears mix with the bathwater as they drown under the weight of the revealation. By some stroke of luck, not only can they share their tomorrows, they no longer have to fear one of theirs ending before the other’s.
And someone up there must be staunchly rooting for them because a year later, Emma turns 4 and becomes an older sister to a pair of twins; a fact she’s prone to remind everyone and their dog at least once for the rest of the month.
The older twin is named Alex D. Wolfwood and his sister is named Olivia Wolfwood because Livio won the coin toss. Both of them are practically dirty-blonde versions of Wolfwood, with an adorable mole atop mirroring brows.
Initially, Vash and Wolfwood had worried that Emma might grow envious of the twins’ presence as most children wont to do upon the sudden arrival of new siblings; the fact that two of them would mean double the effort didn’t help.
However, Emma swiftly tossed that out the window by demanding to be a part of every facet of their lives. Seeing her take her position as an older sister so seriously did things to Wolfwood’s poor heart.
She dutifully made extra servings of sand pies for them (a thoughtful if messy gesture, the rug still has sand in it), read them the sacred teachings of her pop-up book and drew them in drawings using the super special glitter pen Uncle Livio gave her.
Though Brad would later gripe about Alex's habit of stealing his tools and never letting go, everyone knew the first time he reached for Brad’s ruler was the moment he became his favourite. He’s 5-years-old the first time he boards a sandstreamer, and would spend a good few days afterwards sulking upon being told that he couldn’t ride one every day.
Olivia would master the art of escapism to sneak into Ship 3’s geodome every time they visit. Nobody is surprised to find most of her childhood drawings consisting of flowers and gardens. The only thing she loves more than burying her hands in dirt is the hard smooth press of her father’s woodwork. She learns how to hold a trowel and chisel before she learns how to hold a pencil.
But before all that, when both are only 2, they become older siblings to a girl with dark brown hair and Vash’s downturned eyes and facial structure in Wolfwood's coloration.
“Ew.” Alex tactfully expresses when he first sees her squished up face.
“Hi!” Olivia beams, poking her chubby cheek though Emma made sure to stop her from poking her eye.
Juniper Wolfwood spends what little motor skills she has shoving anything she could grab into her mouth. Thus, people would be perplexed whenever they hear the nickname ‘Niper’ instead of the common ‘June’ or ‘Juni’.
Olivia sings to her in hopes of gaining a new dance partner, Alex graciously shows her his favourite toy car and Emma reads her the newer books she’s learned to read. In the end, their baby sister believes her Aunt Meryl’s camera is the most fascinating creation of mankind.
One day, as Vash is hanging the laundry while Wolfwood entertains the children inside, they get a visitor. A pity she didn’t give them a heads up, otherwise Vash would’ve plated some tea biscuits he knows she enjoys.
“Chronica.” He greeted.
The stern woman nodded back. She’s long since abandoned her Earth Federation bodysuit for the sturdier denims, leathers and linens of the natives. A stained SEEDS jacket draped over her shoulders and when she took her hat off, her wavy hair was as blonde and healthy as ever.
“Vash.” She's long since dropped ‘The Stampede’ at the end, a truce she respected to this day.
Her elegant brows arched downwards ever so slightly, no doubt counting the higher number of imperfections riddling his aging body. Once, she had subtly offered an invitation for treatment, but Vash had turned her down. He only needed to look at Wolfwood for her to never bring it up again.
“Looks like you’re doing well for yourself.” She mused.
“I am.” All six of them were. Rubbing his still flat stomach, he corrected it to all seven of them.
Chronica noticed, of course she would and a happy hum brushed the edge of his consciousness.
“Don’t they make you fear death?” she asked. “You’ll be leaving them.”
“I rather leave them first than outlive them, as selfish as that sounds. But isn’t that all the more reason to love, teach and treasure them before I do?” he replied.
“Love and peace.” She recited. “……it shouldn’t have to happen but I’m glad it could. Your family will grow, it’s appropriate you grow with them, no matter how slow.”
Your family, she said. His. How the confirmation continues to warm him so.
“I’ve definitely grown. I feel like I’ve aged another 150 already!” he laughed. “Would you like to meet them?”
Chronica blinked, surprised. As if she didn’t keep the drawing Emma gave on her first visit folded in her pocket, as if she didn’t gift Alex an especially shiny rock and Olivia a pair of pointe shoes, as if she hadn’t let a fussy Juniper gnaw on her hair.
“Sure.” Because if anyone has time, it’s her.
She spends a full hour being introduced to Alex’s rock collection, the new wooden figurine Wolfwood carved for Olivia, Emma’s astonishingly neat handwriting and a now tottering Juniper’s body wrapped around her leg.
Chronica leaves and returns a year later to find Vash, Wolfwood and Livio with a rosy-cheeked, black-haired baby girl in each of their arms. They’re introduced from eldest to youngest: Melanie, Jessica and Evalyn. Or if one prefers less of a mouthful, Melly, Jessy and Evy.
“We swear we were only gonna have one more.” Vash grinned sheepishly while Evy drooled onto his shoulder.
Wolfwood hummed but looked undoubtedly pleased as he bounced a squealing Melly in his arms. From Livio's hold, Jessy babbled as if to call bullshit.
“$$20 says they’ll have another in the oven by next year.” the man whispered to her.
Betting? Chronica should be above such things.
“$$30 they’ll be twins.” She smirked.
“Knew I’d find you here.”
Vash smiled as Wolfwood sat beside him, groaning as he leaned his aching back against the trunk. The tree they were sitting under wasn’t Nai’s, but it was the first of dozens of others that would slowly grow as efforts to terraform the planet paid off. It’ll be centuries more before Gunsmoke comes close to resembling Old Earth but nowadays, spotting patches of greenery amongst its sands was becoming a common sight.
Vash tucked his bookmark into the page, a pointless gesture considering the many dogears that perpetually remained folded. Wolfwood wasn’t surprised to see the familiar title ‘Trails of the Stampede’ on the cover.
“Narcissist.” He huffed, playfully shoving his husband.
“It’s not my fault our daughter’s such a good author!” Vash pouted. “And I can’t get enough of my favourite character, Nikolas ~”
Wolfwood flushed and had Emma been present, she too would’ve wished for the ground to swallow her whole.
Vash set the novel next to the recent pile of letters and photos they’ve received.
One of them was a picture of Alex standing next to Kaite, both men covered in oil stains and bearing proud grins as they posed in front of a finished prototype for a new sandstreamer model. Another was a group picture of Olivia, Juniper and the current batch of Hopeland children at the new park erected on the grounds of what was once the desolate lands of Lost Julai.
A letter in Melly’s excited handwriting gushed about the baby she helped deliver. Two more letters, each written by Jessy and Evy, slyly discussed the new pink tint to Melly’s skin tone every time she talks to the young single mother she’s very invested in ‘helping’ and more seriously detailed the recent worm nest habitats they've explored.
All of that was only the tip of the sand dune. There were many more in the pile, each one dedicated to a chapter in their children’s lives.
Lives full of happiness and fulfilment, lives where they never once doubt that their births were anything but a blessing, lives raised and nurtured by Vash, Wolfwood and so many others who love and are loved in turn.
A gentle breeze caressed Wolfwood’s silver hair. Wrapping an arm around Vash’s shoulders, he pulled him close, nuzzling his face into his grey locks.
“You stink.” Wolfwood blew a raspberry into the crown of his head.
“If only I had a loving husband to wash my hair.” Vash pouted, batting his lashes.
“Needy, needle noggin.” Wolfwood chuckled.
“Your needle noggin.” Vash cuddled against his chest.
For a while, both of them lied under the shade of the tree, counting each other’s heartbeats as they watch the twin suns set to welcome another tomorrow.
Wolfwood’s chest rose and fell, rose and fell, rose and fell, each movement slow but steady.
Vash’s eyes were growing heavy. It’s okay, he’s already seen more than his fill.
“Nick?” he asked.
Wolfwood hummed.
“Will I see you tomorrow?”
His husband smiled. Tipping his chin up, he pressed his lips against Vash’s. He swore he could almost taste the udon broth and nicotine. In the distance, Hopeland's bell rang.
“Always.” He vowed.
Both their eyes close.
Emma tried to dust the worst of the stains off her black coat but gave up when all it did was stain her gloves. Her lower body groaned in relief as she dismounted her thoma.
Adjusting the red scarf around her neck, her knuckles hadn’t even touched the door before it was flung open.
“EMMA!” Juniper embraced her in a hug and judging by the stained apron around her waist, it seems neither of them really cared about getting dirty.
“Oof, think I’m going soft.” Emma made a show of inspecting her ribs once her sister released her. “You still haven’t told me whatever it is you’re feeding yourself and the ankle biters.”
“The secret ingredient is love, obviously.” Juniper tittered, crossing her fingers. “Come in, come in, Olivia and Alex are in the kitchen though you can guess which of them is hiding while the other actually helps, or well tries to. Melly and Evy are taking care of the young ones and Jessy’s on her way.”
Emma nodded, smiling and waving at children who excitedly greeted her, tiny hands grabbing at her coat tails, begging for pretty baubles and new stories. As she passed by the kitchen, Olivia gave a cheery wave before Alex’s cry of alarm interrupted her. Oh dear, she hoped whatever they burned didn’t come alive like The Stew incident.....
“Your saviour has arrived.” Emma joked, watching as a harried Evy tried to pry a toy out of a child’s mouth while a calmer Melly rocked a toddler to sleep.
“Oh thank god.” Evy sounded on the verge of tears. Observing a grand worm must've been easier than herding kids.
“Em! Em! Can you tell us a story?!” oh boy.
“I wanna hear the one on the sandstreamer!” “No, the one with the worms!” “Ew, NO! That’s gross!” “I want the one with the angel and the priest!” "The one with the star lady!"
“GOD DAMN IT OLIVIA, I TOLD YOU TO FOLLOW THE RECIPE!” Alex’s voice rang loudest and thus, was addressed as the most urgent.
Fortunately, when all is said and done, the kitchen isn’t destroyed, Alex and Olivia only walk away with singed hair, lucky Jessy arrives dressed in all black with a pep in her step and dishes are served. Slices of bread are used to mop up the last of Juniper's signature stew from their bowls and apple pie is served as dessert. Juniper chides the children who don't want to eat their veggies while Emma surreptitiously teaches them how to better hide them when her back's turned. She may be the oldest but tonight, she doesn't have to be the most responsible sibling. That's Melly's job.
Once all the dishes were cleaned, teeth were brushed and dirty clothes traded for comfy pajamas, the children gather in a circle without preamble in a rare sign of obedience.
Sitting down criss-cross applesauce, Emma opens her pop-up book.
“Once upon a time, there was a man unlike any other. A gunslinger who fought for love and peace……”