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Wolfwood remembers confetti, floating through the sky like raindrops. Not that he’d ever felt those before but he’d imagine that what he felt now would be similar to the ones brought by rain. Feelings of calm flooded his system like the coldest of fresh water the Badlands could offer. This calm brought neither acceptance of his faith nor joy of whatever cruel idea of freedom this gave him now.
He’d laugh but his throat felt tight. A constriction brought by the tears that streaked his dark cheeks and dripped down onto his slightly raised hand. A cold drink remained pinched between his fingertips not quite reaching his lips. He didn’t have the strength to raise his hand the last few inches up to his face nor to turn to face his companion……..Vash
Vash
VASH
LOOK AT ME! GOD! PLEASE LOOK AT ME! SAY SOMETHING PLEASE!
Was his mouth moving anymore he couldn’t tell. The feeling of his own body was starting to drift away from him. Muscles lost their weight, nerves couldn’t even sense the cold breeze, and his very bones no longer ached. He felt light like a feather floating through the air flowing with just the right current that kept him from landing.
Tongari look at me……..I can’t see you anymore…..touch me……catch me…..I’m scared.
Scared? What a foreign feeling to him. He was not permitted to be scared only the weak had that right. Only the kind could earn the right to be scared. Big girl, and small one they could be scared. They had every right to be when facing this cruel world. Wolfwood? That was taken away from him the second he fired a gun so many years ago.
As white filled his vision that’s all he could feel. The anxious feeling was recognizable even without his body providing a biological response. He didn’t want to die. There was still so much left to do, to say, to feel.
The orphanage
Livio
Milly
Meryl
Vash…
QUIET
He hated the quiet. This wasn’t a normal type of quiet either; there was no breeze, and not even the sound of his own heartbeat could be heard, maybe because he didn't have one anymore. Despite his lack of a heart he still felt warm. Like he was standing under the two suns bathing in their light for as long as he so pleased.
Why couldn’t he enjoy this moment? Was even his death tainted by the life he had lived so carelessly? Was he truly cursed to suffer over and over again even in heaven? Or was this Hell that was so easily preached about on Nomansland?
It was an eternity, or so it felt like it to Wolfwood. In reality, it was only a few hundred years. Time for the ships to arrive at the wasted land and revitalize it. They did not come in fact to rescue the people of this dying planet and deliver them back to Earth. No. They came to this wasted planet and saw the potential for new life and growth. The fallen ships showed them that it was possible even with so few resources. So instead of taking the people away from their planet, they brought supplies, technology, and resources that paled in comparison to what the No Mans' land people had been using before.
They saw the plants not as energy to use up until they died but as a stepping stone to creating a more independent planet that didn’t rely on plant power to grow. Growth is what occurred from then on as sandy dunes became covered in patches of grass that turned into groves which turned into sprawling forests of greenery of all types. Then in turn with human nature, those forests were removed and replaced by sprawling cities and towns of all sizes.
Some things never changed like the steamers that traveled across the sandy dunes now altered for better travel through mixed forests of green and sand to move goods to each city. The two suns still shone down on the people, moons lightening the night sky alongside skyscrapers. Resources were still commercialized so the divide between rich and poor was still present although not as prominent. Far fewer children died of hunger. And the stories of No Man's Land went from warnings and wanted posters to bedtime stories and campfire tales. No Man's land was no longer unsafe for man.
Up in the heavenly golden clouds of above Wolfwood didn’t get to see this change with his own eyes. Focused solely on torturing himself with thoughts of what could have been if only he had tried harder, fought longer, and knew more. This cycle kept him preoccupied only faltering when a jolt of cold shot through his metaphorical body. The cold soaked into his very soul seemingly weighing him down further from the warmth of his suns.
Wolfwood was falling. Quickly, and without any warning to a place where he knew he belonged to be. He’d enjoyed the warmth of Eden by mistake obviously, a mix-up by some Heavenly angel that must have just noticed the error. Crudely he could imagine said angel realizing the mistake, “Oh Nicholas B. Wolfwood, not D. Wolfwood our mistake, let’s get that fixed up for you.” It would bring a grin to his face if he had one.
A burning sensation is what he expected to feel and is exactly what he got. A sensation of nerves connecting back together like patchwork, fusing with muscle and bone to create a physical body. A body that screamed with pain that felt eerily like a mixture of hurt and comfort to Wolfwood after so long without a body. It made him cry out with laughter despite the pain radiating through his body. Laughter as the smell of burnt rubber and the taste of iron became more apparent. A buzzing of sound finally hit his ears. Buzzing turned into shouts of apologies and a cry for an ambulance before it all went black. Finally.
Brown eyes snapped open inciting a loud shriek from the body standing next to them accompanied by the clatter of a clipboard on the ground. The eyes were only opened for a few seconds before growing heavy with exhaustion and slipping back closed.
The person stood there frozen in place. A curvy, young woman with tightly coiled curls held back by a beautifully patterned scarf. Additional attire included light blue scrubs with a name tag that said “Medical student” in bold letters. She stared at the man before her for only another moment before rapidly picking up the clipboard and heading out of the patient’s room.
“Doctor!”, A shout distantly heard by Wolfwood before silence fell into the room except for the occasional machine beeping. With the silence and only the dull ache of his body, he fell right back into slumber.
“Mr. Fang.”
Who is that….
“Mr. Fang. Can you hear us?”
That’s not my name.
“His vitals are stable, his eyes were open just a moment ago I swear”, a feminine voice, young, slightly on edge. Like her job was on the line.
The small one? That insurance lady…..no that can’t be right.
“Let me see his chart.” The rustling of paper flipping drowned out the woman’s questioning. “Let’s see. Micheal. Micheal D. Fang?”
“Who are you people talking too.”, his voice was gruff and hoarse followed quickly by a wet, hacking cough as brown eyes opened to the world, squinting at the brightness. Nicholas saw white, and for a second feared that he was still floating. As his pupils adjusted the brightness he could finally see the room before him. A room that appeared cleaner than where he’d normally stay. As his eyes scanned the room he noticed all the usual furnishings of a hospital room. Uncomfortable side chair, pristine divider curtain all unlike the weird monitor on the screen with people on it. Why put a security monitor in a patient's room?
“Mr. Fang. Mr. Faaaang are you with us?” The doctor spoke again, sounding bored out of his mind which was at least closer to the normal doctors Nicholas would see.
“That’s not my name. I don’t know who Mr. Fang is.”, Nicholas barked out as he turned a hard glare at the doctor-nurse duo getting a good look at them. The doctor's voice perfectly matched his appearance; an unbuttoned, wrinkled white coat revealed a half-tucked shirt with coffee stains. His beard and mustache were the only thing tidy about him even the glasses on his nose had dirt smudges. On his name tag was his full name, Roy De Niro
“Dissociative amnesia?”
“Nice guess rookie how’d you come up with that.”
“Well, it’s quite obvious from his lack of awareness. The forgetfulness of his name.”
“......”
“That…was sarcasm?”
“Another good guess, rookie. Congrats you won a cookie.”
The dark-skinned woman looked ready to strangle the doctor from where she stood behind him which at least aligned nicely with how Nicholas was feeling at the moment. The clipboard was set down into his lap tearing his gaze away from the duo and down toward its contents. Filled in next to the name compartment was the same name the doctor had voiced. Micheal D. Fang.
Brows furrowed as he continued to read the chart and came to a startling realization. His arm was in fact in a cast strapped to his chest by a sling. Which aligned well with what was stated on the chart to be the reason for his hospital visit. A motorcycle incident involving a car left him with a nearly cracked skull and a broken arm. Great. So he was in Hell.
“Is any of this making sense to you now? You were in a very bad accident, Mr. Fang. You're lucky to be alive with so few injuries.”, The nurse was calm as she spoke to him as if talking to a child instead of a grown man. Wait. Wolfwood grabbed at the chart with his working hand and brought it up to his face for better reading. He was also five years younger now being 23 instead of 28 which was very interesting.
A new name, a new age, and a new body.
Wolfwood looked at his hands rubbing his fingers over his inner palm which was softer than he’d previously remembered it being. Holding 300 lbs of steel gave a man some bruised, calloused hands which was not what Wolfwood was feeling at the moment. Reaching for his face he tried to map out what else was amiss using these soft new hands. His face also appeared softer, sure he still had a fairly sharp jawline and his stubble felt closer to a beard but his face still felt different. Wolfwood felt small holes under his bottom lip and along his eyebrow that must have confused him enough for the nurse to take note.
“We removed your piercings during surgery but don’t worry they are in a bag with the rest of your belongings”, she spoke softly then went for the side table next to Wolfwood grabbing what she hoped would be helpful. Taking his hand into her own and placing the handle of a mirror into his palm with a smile, “Maybe seeing your face might help you remember.”
Uncertainty filled Wolfwood all of a sudden and that feeling that he remembered scolding so harshly ran through his body. He was scared again, of what he might see. What if this face wasn’t him? What would that mean for him? To wake up in some weird place in a completely different body than before? What fate could this lead the undertaker toward?
Trembling hands gripped at the mirror quickly banishing any terrifying thoughts with unwavering resolution. Without another thought, he lifted the mirror witnessing this face for the first time.
Oh
“I look the same.”, he said softly mostly to himself but the doctor still scoffed before turning his back on his coping patient. “Start on secondary care then call in the psychiatrist. This isn't our problem anymore so don’t go stressing yourself”, he told the nurse before walking out of the room with the soft click of the door.
The nurse seemed to sigh, more like a groan, at his behavior, taking the chart out of Wolfwood’s lap and starting with a list of checks on his body.
Wolfwood let her without saying another word focused solely on the reflection of himself in the mirror. It was like some form of uncanny valley how he looked so familiar yet so very different than what was normal. His face appeared younger than he expected but even at 25 he still had the hardened, and wrinkly face, of someone who was stressed and overworked to the bone. No, this face was almost teen-like without the hormones and with the added beard.
“Mr. Fang?”
“Huh.”
“If you’d like, we can get that beard shaved off. You seem to be rubbing it quite a lot.”, her voice was perky and sweet like honey. Reminding him of a certain tall, brunette. It made his body relax fully for the first time since waking up. Even the smallest memory of her brought this calm to his body that only she had been able to bring. Even though they spent such a short time together. “I’d like to shave this rat’s nest off please.”
So she left through a door in the room and came back with a few necessary supplies, a razor, a small bowl of water, a towel, and what appeared to be a small bottle of shaving cream. As
Wolfwood woke up at just the right time in his recovery
An x-ray was done to check that his brain hadn’t gotten too badly scrambled and when no damage was found he was pushed into the arms of an awaiting physiatrist. It happened so fast Wolfwood almost didn’t have time to spin this situation in his favor, almost. Fake it til you make it was not a phrase Wolfwood would say he fit perfectly but it was a phrase that he felt suited his lying tendencies. He’d played the role of an innocent priest well enough in his last life that pretending to be a slightly confused Micheal D. Fang wasn’t too much harder. After an hour of lengthy questions and examination Wolfwood was deemed confused but otherwise fit to be released, of course only after a next of kin was called.
That’s how he ended up downstairs in the hospital waiting room dressed in loose clothing he didn’t recognize holding a plastic bag of his belongings close in his lap. Inside the bag included his piercings, a phone that was shaped like a square box, his wallet, keys, a cross necklace, a pack of tissues, a pair of shades, and a slip of small paper that said: “A journey of a thousand miles must start with a single step.” Whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean. A rumbled groan slipped past his lips as he looked at the time.
Someone named Lenardo was coming to pick him up at 2:30 and he still had around 20 minutes left of waiting til then. In the time spent waiting, he’d gone through the wallet finding $$23.00 and change, a card for a strip club, numerous memberships, and a driver's license. Now it was on to the phone which thankfully wasn’t password encrypted.
This Micheal guy is trusting, too trusting for someone like Wolfwood.
It was a bit hard to understand with the tiny, cracked screen being covered in little squares that seemed to open up to things he didn’t understand. At the end of his 20-minute wait, Wolfwood hadn’t the slightest idea how to use it properly.
The whooshing of the automatic door caught Wolfwood's attention then the sight of silver hair snapped him upright in his seat. A sudden wave of, only god knows, what kind of emotion flooded through every system in his body as he saw the familiar face of his brother. Familiar like how he had seen his face in the mirror. He recognizes something as if he were looking at someone mockingly dressed as him. That thought perked his interest as if he remembered an instance where that exact situation had happened.
Livio’s face was slim like his body ending in a more pointed chin. While he seemed to have a slender body it was still massive compared to Wolfwood currently and possibly even before his death. Broad shoulders stretched the shirt over his body which was further tightened by his chest and massive arms. Somehow he appeared slim while also muscular no doubt due to the tight shirt. His face was not so hardened, instead appearing fairly blank and emotionless until his head turned and he caught sight of Wolfwood. All the cool illusion washed away as he practically sprinted towards him, tears already pooling in his eyes.
“Micheal! Oh my god!”, without giving Wolfwood a moment to take in a final breath the larger man wrapped his arms tightly around his entire body, arm included.
“YAAAAAAA-OOOOOH! GET OFF LIVIO!!”
As quickly as he was tackled he was released and face to face with an incredibly concerned brother. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I completely forgot about your arm, oh my god is it okay? You had to get stitches right? " While flitting through his apologies his hands came to hover over the cast as if he could magically heal it. All the while tear streaks started to form down his cheeks.
The interaction caught Wolfwood off guard; he huddled into the corner of the hospital chair as if cornered by a fire. While his misuse of his name didn’t translate through to the larger man the startled expression on Wolfwood’s face did and seemed to knock some sense into the tall man.
“Oh, you…don’t remember me do you?” slowly backing away to kneel in front of the chair, his hands reaching up to wipe at his face. That’s when Wolfwood remembered the tissues in his take-home bag. Suddenly the item seemed to make sense now especially considering how close they appeared to be. Reaching into the bag he pulled them out and offered the pack out to his brother who stared at them.
“Your Leonardo? I don’t know who you are but we're close, right? Otherwise, I wouldn’t be carrying this with me right? Crybaby?”
Leonardo stared at the pack and then looked up at Wolfwood with an expression only known to be compared to that of a shelter puppy. His lip jutted out and more tears started to pour from his eyes as he grabbed the pack from his hand and opened it. “You're still so mean. Teasing me all the time. You know I can’t help it.”, he huffed as he used the cool paper to wipe at his raw eyes.
If he was being honest with himself he wanted to cry right along with the guy. This Leonardo guy must be some sort of distant relative of Livio. That was the only explanation that worked. This means Livio ended up living, really living, with a family of his own and generations to keep alive. Maybe that meant good things for the orphanage as well, they could have made it out safely too. Grew up somewhere happy.
His teeth found their way into the side of his cheek as he held back his tears, no use getting sentimental now. He’d have to wait til he’s alone.
“I’m glad to see you. Took you a while to get here though. Doc says I’ve been here for over 3 weeks. Didn’t feel like visiting?”, good, he needed to put up his front again while making sure to get as much information as possible. This guy was no doubt Livio but that alone didn’t help him figure out why he was here and who exactly Micheal Fang was.
Leonardo grimaced and his eyes darted to side at the question seemingly ashamed of not having visited. “Well for one I didn’t know where you were because the hospital waited a whole week to contact me or maybe that was the police.”, with that he huffed going from ashamed to angry at not knowing where he was. It was strange to Wolfwood who was used to news getting around fairly slowly. As much as he teased him he hadn’t expected the man to take him seriously. But he let him go on with a simple head nod. “ Then when I found out I wanted to come but without you at work, they called me in to sub the kids and jeez your class is a mess no offense I’m not sure how you manage them so well. “
“Wait wait wait. Class? Like a teacher?”
“Uh yea? Oh right, I guess you still don’t remember much but you're a teacher for a group of second graders. Who doesn't exactly listen to anyone but you.”, another huff of irritation, “Thankfully Molly helped me a lot, she and Mary lied and told the kids if they didn’t behave you were gonna never come back which was pretty unethical but worked out.
Wolffood stared at him with an unreadable expression as he tried to take in what he had been told. He was a teacher for children? Molly and Mary sounded like the insurance girls. His brother, friend, family member, person also seemed to be a teacher. Apparently he was a well liked teacher?
The cogs were running on overdrive in Wolfwood’s head to the point he thought he felt steam come out of his ears. Instead what he felt was Livio, Leonardo’s, hand on his shoulder patting him back into the realm of living.
“I understand this is a lot for you. Until you get your memory fully back I’ll keep subbing for you so don’t worry. Molly and Mary aren’t mad or anything they are actually pretty worried sick about you so don’t be afraid of that”, with that being said he used the chair nearby to hoist himself into a standing position. “I know you checked out already but I’m going to get some of the aftercare paperwork so wait for me?” The man didn't wait for a response before heading toward the front.
Wolfwood stared down at the space that Livio had just been, eyes straining to keep tears from pouring out of his eyes. It was overwhelming, all of this emotion and care being thrown his way. It felt like he was in some alternate dimension. A dimension he had no right to occupy. His uncasted fist balled up, shaking with some mixture of anger and sorrow. He shouldn’t be here with these people. In this body.
Looking up he saw Livio, Leonardo damnit, chatting with the front desk nurse. Now was his chance to escape. Grabbinghis baggie of items he stood up and made his way toward the front entrance. Lifting up his hood to cover his head in hopes of not being seen. Making it inside safe and sound he booked it toward the closest sidewalk keeping his eyes forward and not looking back. All the while he kept repeating in his head. “This is for his own good. I don’t belong here. This body isn’t mine.”
And he walked.
Onward.
And onward.
He walked and watched as the world became fuller, the streets were bustling with people going in and out of shops, laughing, smiling. Everyone looked happy. No one was hungry or angry. It was as if he was suddenly transported to a proper heaven. Streets of milk and honey. It gave him that same overwhelming feeling that he had in the hospital.
It made him sick.
The singing of a small bell caught his attention from his spiral into madness and made him turn toward an enticing scent. Coffee and the scent of something sweet and savory caught the attention of his nose then the circular-shaped pastry caught his eyesight.
Donuts.
A sweet treat sold throughout Noman’s land that seems to persist even now God knows how many years later. It was such a kind thought that brought a smile to his face. Even if it was just for a moment before another thought came to mind. One that made him feel his chest clench painfully and an ache shoots through his injured arm. The thought involved a certain blonde idiot with a love for donuts and an even bigger love for getting himself into deadly situations. What had happened to Spikey after his death? He must have won otherwise Wolfwood might be awakening to a world of ash and fallout or not awakening at all. They had won after all it seemed. Everyone was safe, the children, the girls, Livio, the whole planet but what about Vash? Did Vash win anything after all was said and done?
Before he could finish that thought he was being shoved by a group of young teens further through the doorway he didn't even realize he had walked through. One of them must have noticed his cast because they apologized softly for the group before being ushered up to the counter to order. Wolfwood took a moment to look around the brightly colored coffee shop noting the lack of traditional wood design found throughout the old Julai. Instead, everything had this streamlined appearance more similar to the ships of the space-faring age than even the most modern sand steamer. When he looked up at the ceiling his face scrunched painfully against the light even too bright for the shades over his eyes to fully stare at.
He found himself rubbing his temples to cure the ache as he went to sit in the plush bright pink chair at one of the small tables. It was surprisingly comfy like he was sitting in one of those fancy sand steamer lounges. Now that he thought about it the hospital chairs had also been surprisingly comfortable. It seemed that in today's time, things were a lot softer than he knew. A scoff led to a smile on his face at the thought of getting to live such a soft life. It almost felt like he didn’t deserve such a chance. Maybe he could learn to get used to this place at least until he figured out why he was here in the first place.
Slowly he leaned his head back and let his eyes slip closed against the harsh light. Yes, he could get used to this.
“Iced caramel swirl macchiato with skim milk for Vash!”
VASH
Wolfwood’s eyes snapped open darting to the counter where a young woman was handing a large iced drink to the tall, dark-haired fellow. The man was tall, towering over her no doubt if he wasn’t standing so hunched at the moment. He had jet-black hair that was flat and pulled back into a loose ponytail.
No. No this couldn’t be him.
He hadn’t noticed how tense he was until he started to relax and his body hit the back of his chair again in a slump. The spikey blonde hair was pure Vash and without it well this strange man was simply a guy in a black sweater. Just another stranger in Nicholas’s new life.
Then the stranger turned revealing a pair of round orange glasses that hid teal-blue colored eyes perfectly, but what it didn’t hide was a mole. Small, beautiful, annoyingly perfect underneath his left eye. The tension and rage returned in Wolfwood’s body as he sat up straight nearly toppling himself out of his chair as a snarl ripped through his throat.
Angry. Why am I so angry? Why does seeing him bring me so much rage
“ NEEDLE-NOGGIN!”, the name ripped through his throat in time with those tinted shades landing on his form.
The iced drink slipped through the no-doubt metal left hand of the holder smashing to the floor and spreading out along leather boot-wearing feet. A scream came from the group of girls who huddled near the counter for safety. The tension in the air could be sliced with a knife.
The only words to come from Vash were simply one. One that wrapped up this entire interaction and this entire situation into a neat little package.
“Shit.”