Chapter Text
Wolfwood took one look at the tiny, purple star falling down to the city of Julai, and he knew there was nothing he could do.
It was almost peaceful in a way. There was simply nothing to be done. Not a single thing he could do would fix this. It was going to happen no matter what. It was freeing in a way, to have that choice taken out of his hands. Maybe that was why he’d been such a successful, domesticated dog for the Eye of Michael.
So instead he grabbed Meryl like a football and slid down one of the dunes, even as she yelled and cried out for Vash. He braced the Punisher at his back—it wouldn’t completely cover him, but it was all he had. He pulled Meryl close to his chest and shielded every inch of her, holding her head close to his chest as he felt the world around them cave in.
They were far enough away from the worst of the damage. But even if it wasn’t a direct hit, the fire spawned from what was essentially a burning galaxy erupted far and wide. He grit his teeth and in hindsight, was sure he shouted out in agony as he felt his sides get seared and flayed from all that wasn’t shielded by the Punisher. At least Meryl was smart enough to hold still, though her hands clutched tighter into his jacket.
Slowly, the fire died. Wolfwood hissed as he gently tried to uncoil. Immediately he felt blackened skin crumple and he barely bit back a howl, blindly fumbling for a vial through the pain. He didn’t dare look down and see what lay behind the holes scorned into his clothes.
Meryl squirmed free, breathing heavy. She grabbed onto his shoulders and tried to ease him back.
“Oh God,” She gasped, and Wolfwood already knew how bad the damage looked.
He just got out his vial, broke the glass, and downed it. Then he got a second one, just to be sure. He knew he was pushing it, taking two at the same time. Just one more. He just needed one more. Fuck it hurt.
“Fine,” He croaked, knowing Meryl didn’t believe him, “fine, shortstack.”
The wounds would heal in time. Not perfectly, it’d actually be one of the few times he actually scarred over, leaving searing lines just under his ribcage and over the edges of his shoulders, another by his thigh. In the coming weeks it’d take a few more vials before the wounds finally do fade over into proper scars instead of scabs. The wounds were cauterized instantly, so at least there wasn't any blood at first. That would come when he moved around too much.
They got a good look of what remained of Julai. Absolutely nothing was the proper word for it. He heard Meryl gasp and cover her mouth, tears brimming in her eyes. Wolfwood just stared.
“He’s still in there.” She croaked, and then she was off. Unclear which of the two “he’s” in their old party she meant. Maybe both of them.
Wolfwood wouldn’t have recommended going near, who knew what was left in that smoking, crumbling crater? Radiation, probably. But he knew he couldn’t stop her, so he just watched her go. He slowly took a seat on that dune, hissing and holding back a whimper at how his injuries cried out. The vials weren’t enough.
He’d sit there and stare for a long, long time. He knew Meryl wasn’t going to find anything. Certainly not Vash. If he was even alive after that. Probably not.
Shakily, he knocked out a cigarette. Everything screamed and shook and he couldn’t think. He couldn’t hear anything as his fingers shook over the lighter. He burned the tips of his fingers and he didn’t even feel it. He missed catching his lips around the cigarette a couple times before he finally got it.
He didn’t inhale for a long moment. Just held it there, waiting for nicotine to magically enter his lungs as he stared, and stared, and stared.
It was late when Meryl slowly trudged back up the dune. Wolfwood had noticed some hours ago some people on the outskirts of the crater. It was the few people who were smart enough to flee the city itself when they saw a giant woman made of interdimensional plants rising from their home, the ones who got far enough away.
It couldn’t have been more than a hundred. If even that. Over fifty-thousand people, and that was all they had left.
He didn’t watch them. He just noticed. It took him a longer while to notice Meryl coming back up, feet dragging in the sand and so very, very tired. He was already on his seventh cigarette.
She stopped in front of Wolfwood. He looked blankly back at her. Tears brimmed in her eyes, and then she blinked and a few fell away. He looked down and saw a blackened, soot-covered revolver in her hand.
“I couldn’t find anything else.” Her voice cracked, and still Wolfwood held out his hand.
In his palm she placed Vash’s gun. It was still warm to the touch. How it survived any of that he had no idea. He just held it, staring silently before he lowered his arm over his bent knee, letting the gun hang.
She stumbled next to him, then sat down. She held still for a few moments before hiccuping, then curled her knees up to her chest and buried her head in them, arms wrapped around her legs.
“I had a plan,” Meryl choked, muffled by her knees, “when it was over. I was going to get Roberto out. I planned what I was going to tell everyone.”
A very cruel part of Wolfwood wanted to say well, at least you won’t have to go through the hassle of digging a grave.
Meryl curled in tighter, and he heard her barely choke back a cry. He couldn’t even think of feeling awkward. He was stupider than her, because he was still looking at that crater and waiting to see someone walk out of it.
Silently, he reached out his arm not holding Vash’s long colt. He dropped it over Meryl’s shoulders, hand gently (not that he really knew how to be such a thing) holding her head as he pulled her against his side. This was all Meryl needed before the dam broke.
He didn’t do anything. Just kept her there as she wailed her poor little heart out, feeling her shake and body jerk with the force of it. She could barely breathe, and all he could do was keep staring at nothing.
There was nothing they could’ve done. And yet, Meryl was the one crying when she couldn’t feel guilt for a single thing. Sure, Wolfwood couldn’t have stopped the explosion—but he brought Vash here, after all.
He wondered when Meryl was going to realize that. When she’d try and kill him for it. He kind of hoped she would. Maybe then he’d snap back and acknowledge how much pain he was in.
Meryl cried herself to exhaustion. She was half-asleep when he tucked Vash’s gun into his waistband and scooped her up into his arms, leaving the Punisher on the sands as he trudged over to the small group of survivors at the edge of the crater.
Most of them were still crying. Some were screaming. It had dulled from what it was once, at least. Mostly they were still, staring at where their home, friends, and family had once been. At the edge of the crater was a man with huge arms and wheels attached to his legs, just watching.
“Hey,” He gruffed to an old man who at least seemed consciously aware of his surroundings, sitting on an old stone, “when’s help coming?”
“Oh,” The man blinked slowly, looking from Meryl, then up to Wolfwood, “the…the traders, the weekend traders. They should be coming back tomorrow. They’ll…they’ll see and bring someone.”
“Great,” He crouched, and he figured he should be feeling the pain at some point, slowly setting Meryl down against the side of the stone. She barely stirred. “I know we’re all kinda lookin’ out for ourselves right now, but keep an eye on her? She’s been through…” He stopped. They’d all been through a lot.
The man smiled, a slow, sad one. It seemed he understood. “Of course. I’ll watch her till you’re back.”
“Oh, don’t bother.” Wolfwood turned on his heel. “I won’t be.”
No one stopped him on his walk back to the dune. Why would they? So he just reached the Punisher and lifted her up, shaking out the sand on her cloth. He readjusted her over his back, on his shoulder that was more numb than the other, and he took one last look at what had once been a city named Julai.
There was nothing he could do now. But he sure wasn’t blameless.
Silently, Wolfwood turned and stalked off into the vast, empty desert.
Wolfwood heard back from the Eye of Fuckwits about a month after. He saw them make their escape in the flying…thingie, so he already knew the worst of them had made it out.
They asked for him to report back. He told them to go fuck themselves with a cactus. Paused. Then went back and asked if Knives was alive. They didn’t reach out for another week.
When they did, they didn’t answer his question. Instead what they said was: report immediately if you find any information on Vash the Stampede.
Wolfwood stewed on that for a long while. He was in a bar, looking at the bottle across from him as some drunkards next to him were hollering far too loud with each other. Not threateningly, but obnoxiously all the same. The bartender was turning a blind eye. Wolfwood had never minded noise, but now it felt like he was going to explode if they yelled in his ear one more time.
Then, he reached out and grabbed the neck of the bottle. In one movement he spun around and smashed it over the skull of one of the drunkards. He hit the ground in a shower of glass.
The ensuing fight did nothing to bring feeling back into Wolfwood’s skin from where it’d faded. Truth be told he just wanted something to kill. He felt like a child that couldn’t get a grip on his emotions yet. He was, in a way, and that made him want to smash another bottle.
If the Eye was telling him to keep a lookout, then they weren’t confident that Vash was dead. Conrad and Legato were meticulous bastards, so that didn’t inherently mean anything. It wasn’t a promise.
But it was a chance.
Wolfwood still had Vash’s revolver. He had never once used it. Such a thing felt wrong, it wasn’t his gun. He had no need for the .22 calibers. Still, sometimes he kept it tucked into his waistband, strapped to his chest, or in a compartment on the Punisher. He tried not to look at it.
On the night he heard Vash might be alive, he looked at the revolver and felt the weight in his hand. Vash had shown him how he used it, just because Wolfwood asked, rhetorically, how the hell he was such a good gunslinger.
He realized that Vash had taken it literally on purpose. There was purpose in how he pressed his shoulder to Wolfwood’s and slowed down his movements to show how his body moved over such a weapon. Wolfwood was far more ridiculous than that moron, because he was the one who listened and still remembered every word.
Wolfwood slipped his fingers over where Vash had once held his revolver. His hand was a little too big, and he knew he was imagining the grooves where Vash’s fingers had worn indents into the metal. But he let himself keep the fantasy, just this once. Vash could make any man want to believe in something kinder.
He really wondered why the Eye thought he was the best choice to be Vash’s babysitter. It was like throwing milk in front of a cat and expecting them not to drink it. All it had taken was Vash’s fingertips to gently brush under his chin, guiding his head up without a single push, and the softest smile as he promised everything was going to be okay.
Wolfwood couldn’t even remember why he said that. Something bad had happened on their travels, surely, and Wolfwood was probably being a pain in the ass like usual. But that? That was all it took. Hook, line, and sinker. He knew then he’d do anything the Stampede asked of him, so long he used those pretty blue wonders while he said it.
Maybe he could’ve pretended it was simply being in proximity to someone who was drop-dead gorgeous. Someone who was kind to him and touched him gently when he hadn’t known such a thing since his body was the size it should’ve been. Someone just to help take the edge off, hands shoved down each other’s pants as they gasped in a shitty bathroom stall of a gas station before they had to hit the road again.
He could’ve pretended if he hadn’t gone back. Maybe if he’d taken Meryl’s kick and left the city, his job over and done with.
He didn’t do that. His dumbass went back. He felt a hot blooded anxiety and nausea trying to go further, and so he swallowed his pride and sensibilities to turn around. Of course it was by then that the roots of the giant purple plant-lady were retreating, and then it was easy to find the two sentient nuclear bombs having an ideological turf war on the roof, where Meryl was soon to slip to her death if he hadn’t caught her.
It was so much worse than that. He knew he couldn’t help Vash with that, but he’d thought about it. He’d come to that fight and for a brief second he thought about shooting Knives through his stupid head. But he knew that wouldn’t help anyone, so he just took Meryl and he ran. The important part was he went back at all.
“Fucking moron.” He spat, and it really could’ve been about himself or Vash. Probably both.
So, in that month after, he slung the Punisher over his shoulder, and he got to searching.
He walked, walked, and walked some more. He asked people about blond idiots with self-sacrificing tendencies. He followed those false leads and impersonators of the Stampede (and maybe shot them a bit for wasting his time, for making Vash look like some crazy lunatic). He stared at the Plants of large towns and wondered if they could give him a clue.
There was a chance Vash was out there. A good man, as Vash seemed to think he was, would’ve damn well left him alone. Even if Vash forgave him, Wolfwood couldn’t forgive that he’d run his hands down a tattered body and kissed reddened skin all while knowing he was leading it to further torment.
But for some reason, Vash had still called him good despite that. Maybe the child that never grew up wanted to try and be that, just once.
And he owed Vash his gun back. If nothing else, he had to find him just to give him the damn thing. The metaphorical weight was starting to make his back hurt.
It’s two and a half years later that Wolfwood listens absently to a radio before it starts to list supposed details of the Humanoid Typhoon’s whereabouts.
He’d heard such things many times in those two and half years. The only difference this time was two things: it was the first time any radio cared to mention Vash after news broke that Earth was on their way to save them, and it had details. A number of details.
Wolfwood was off before the radio was done speaking.
He had a variety of emotions when he heard Earth was coming for them. Trepidation, mostly. He heard many stories from Earth growing up in Hopeland, and he wasn’t sure what to think of it. He was a nihilist at heart, so he thought they might bring more problems than solutions. Then again, if they could really get humans off this shithole of a planet, maybe any future problems would be worth it.
Not that Wolfwood would know how to live on any other planet. He had never seen an ocean, a forest, or snow-capped mountains. He was happy for the children who would get to know such pleasantries, but he figured he was too far along, and too broken, to properly enjoy it. He’d feel out of place there, the same way he’d felt out of place on Ship Three.
Vash would’ve been overjoyed. That was what spurred him on to give in and walk aimlessly through the sands with resigned dedication. Vash would’ve cried with half of humanity at the knowledge Earth was coming for them. He would’ve turned to Wolfwood with such a blindingly bright smile that Wolfwood could’ve entertained the idea of learning how to live like his ancestors did—just as long as Vash was there.
Wolfwood stopped at that thought. He stared off into the desert for a moment, then lessened his grip on the Punisher till the top of her came down and bonked on his head. He growled, shook himself off, and kept moving.
(“We didn’t get to see Earth, either.” Vash murmured, looking up at the dark ceiling of his room on Home, eyes somewhere far away. Here, he really did look his age. All one hundred and fifty years of it. “I used to comfort myself with that. Out of all my differences, I shared that with humanity. We’d never seen our home before.”
“Is Earth home for Plants?” Wolfwood couldn’t help asking, leaning on the wall as he smoked through his cigarette.
“Not the same way it is for you.” Vash’s eyes slowly slipped over to him, so bright in the room and so wretchedly soft. “I guess it’s not the same.” He sighed, smiling sadly.
“No, go on,” Wolfwood probed anyway, when for anyone else he’d let it drop there. He wasn’t good at this emotion stuff, never was. For Vash, he wanted to try. Anything to get him to quit looking so goddamn sad, “Earth can be your home, too. I don’t mind sharing.”
Vash chuckled airily. His smile was a little realier, turning to look back up at the ceiling. He reached up his hand, the real one, searching for something unseen.
“I guess it’s instinctual.” He murmured quietly. “We were raised by those who called Earth ‘home’. We started to think of it as our home, too.”
“Think of it this way,” Wolfwood said, “least you didn’t have to see it get run to shit.”
“I wouldn’t have minded.” Vash closed his eyes. “I just would’ve liked to see it outside of a photograph.”)
Wolfwood was more than used to traveling through the sands. His own thoughts could entertain him well enough, as could nicotine when he felt like it. Even if he found the memories horribly embarrassing.
He was even more intrigued to learn that the new directions were taking him not too far away from Lost Julai. Still a decent distance, but closer than he’d been to the place in nearly two years. Perhaps this led to a little more credibility to the claim on the radio.
Although if Vash really was right next to Julai all these years, he was going to tear his hair out and break his foot trying to kick a boulder.
He’s thinking precisely this when he hears the rumble of an engine. He hummed to himself, because not many drive out this way, so while he walked he turned his head to see what poor sod was driving out here. Maybe they’ll give him a ride.
He’s immediately run over.
He coughed and spewed up sand as he shoved himself back upright, head still spinning from the way he was thrown around. He doesn’t even know the swears he spat out as he shook his head to clear the sand that got everywhere, swaying on his feet for a moment as he heard the screech of the car coming to a stop, then the people rushing out.
“Jesus Christ!” He registered himself snapping, whirling around with the fury of a slighted thoma. “Watch where you’re—!”
Oh shit.
Wolfwood stopped. Stared at the pair of eyes staring right back at him, just a few feet away, disbelieving and wide and so much less sad than he last recalled.
“Wolfwood?” Meryl exclaimed.
There were many things he could say. Perhaps a greeting, like a normal person. Perhaps he could shrink away and look guilty considering the last time they spoke and he ran off. Perhaps he could ask what the hell she’s doing out here.
Instead, he says: “How the fuck do you hit me twice?”
“How do you get hit twice?” Meryl shot back immediately, and suddenly it was like there’d been no time at all, and her tiny, spiteful righteousness was back in full force.
“Oh, victim-blaming, are we?” Wolfwood sneered, looming over her like he always did, two and a half lifetimes ago. “Who the hell keeps letting you drive? Revoke your license for God’s sake!”
“I was giving Milly a break!” Meryl protested, stamping her foot.
“Who the—” Wolfwood looked behind Meryl. There was another girl there, approaching with a cheerful wave. She was tall, pretty, and just as blinding in her smile as Vash was.
“Hello!” The girl greeted as she came up behind Meryl. “I was going to ask if you’re alright, but it seems you are!”
“...okay.” Wolfwood eyed her, then eyed Meryl. Suddenly he was at a loss for words, momentarily stricken out of his easy anger. What was there to say?
“What are you doing out here?” Meryl quelled a little herself, back to just openly staring.
“Enjoying the scenery.” He snarked, leaning down into her face.
“We’re doing this now?” Meryl’s brow twitched.
“I think I get to do this all I like,” He growled, nearly nose-to-nose and putting a crick in his back, “considering you hit me with a car. Again.”
The girl, Milly, shifted out of the corner of his eye. Stepping a little closer to Meryl, hand going over her shoulder to grab at some weapon strapped across her back. He must’ve been watching her with a focus too close to fitting a Punisher, because Meryl turned around to the girl at once.
“I know him.” She informed, and Milly’s hand dropped immediately. She sighed, stepping back and gesturing between her and Wolfwood. “Wolfwood, this is Milly, she’s my partner. Milly, this is Wolfwood, he’s a jackass.”
“Oh, you’re Mr. Wolfwood!” Milly was grinning brightly all over again, offering her hand. “It’s wonderful to meet you! Meryl talks about you—”
Meryl abruptly elbowed her in the side. Milly didn’t even flinch. Which was impressive, Meryl’s jabs packed needle-sharp pains that were nothing to scoff at. It’s for that reason he allowed himself to shake her hand without fuss.
“Aw, you missed me or somethin’?” Wolfwood teased, leaning back and stuffing one hand in his pocket. “Knew you had a hea—”
Meryl kicked him in the shin. Again, needle-sharp pains. He hissed, stiffening and cringing away. He was fighting incredible battles to not howl and clutch at his leg in agony.
“Maybe I did! Asshole!” She barked, and he flinched to avoid another kick flung his way.
“Hey, hey, watch it!” He all but danced away, shifting the Punisher to try and use her as a shield. “I gotta walk on these things!”
“Where are you heading to, Mr. Wolfwood?” Milly asked above the two’s swearing and looney game of keep-away.
“Away from here!” He snapped, finally catching Meryl by the back of her coat and holding her out as she flailed and kicked. “Where they’ll be far better company.”
“Oh, so are we!” Milly chirped. “We’re going to find Vash the Stampede! At least Meryl thinks so.”
“It’s a credible source!” Meryl spun on Milly like it was an old thing she needed to prove, and Wolfwood just stared as she wrenched herself free and gave him a hard look. “I was going to tell you to come with. But clearly you don’t care.” She sniffed, turning her nose up and away as she stalked back to Milly. “So forget it.”
“Now hold on,” He started.
“No, no, by all means!” Meryl threw over her shoulder, stomping her way back to the car as Milly looked between the two of them. She seemed highly amused by all of this. “Go find yourself some better company! Enjoy the sights! Run off into the wind! It’s clearly your one true calling.”
“Now that ain’t—” He bit back his retort. No, it wasn’t fair. He wasn’t fair and she wasn’t fair. Neither of them were fair nor was their entire situation. “If you’d let me talk, princess, I’d tell ya the better company I’d like to find is Vash.”
“What?” Meryl spun around.
“M’lookin’ for ‘im, too.” He gruffed out, readjusting the Punisher over his shoulder. “Seems we’re headin’ in the same direction. Some iles off from Lost Julai, right?”
“Oh, that’s perfect!” Milly clasped her hands together, smiling down at Meryl. “Then we can go together.”
“You were going to walk there.” Meryl deadpanned, casting a wide look at their empty, sandy surroundings. “You haven’t gotten any smarter, I see.”
“And you still can’t drive.” He shot back. “In any case, if yer lookin’ for Vash, you and I know damn well there’s gonna be heaps of trouble.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Meryl laughed dryly, crossing her arms, “are you saying now I have to take you along, because clearly we’re going to need your help?”
“No,” Wolfwood scoffed, absolutely trying to imply exactly that, “m’just sayin’ I know the shit Vash gets up to. It’ll be useful for everyone.”
“Milly can handle it.” Meryl lazily pointed a thumb her way. “She’s tough. Tougher than you, probably.”
“Aww, Meryl,” Milly cooed.
“Now you’re just trying to piss me off.” He grumbled, though he was eyeing her massive gun. And how her brow immediately quirked in a small challenge at his words. “C’mon, just open up the car door.” He implored, already moving towards it.
“You can walk your way to Vash. You’ll survive it.”
“If he’s even there.” He turned his head a little. “You have any idea how many times they swore they’d seen him? Swear I’ve been across the whole damn planet.”
“You’ve been looking?” Meryl blinked.
“The hell you think I’ve been doing?” He fully turned then, curling a lip. “Sittin’ on my ass?”
“That—” Meryl stopped. Looked at him. Really looked at him, in a way that made his hackles raise. “Huh.” She said, looked a little longer, then uncrossed her arms. “I wonder how we didn’t run into each other.”
She’d been looking for him, too. Of course she had. It was Meryl. She could never leave a story like Vash alone.
“Yeah, well,” He turned his gaze elsewhere to the sands, “maybe this is a sign, then.”
Meryl stared at him a moment longer. Probably thinking about how he didn’t believe in signs or fate or other stupid shit. He blamed Vash. That fucker was tormenting him and he wasn’t even here.
“Smoke in the car and I’ll throw you back out.” Meryl relented with a sigh, turning on her heel and striding back to the car. “And rolling the window down doesn’t count!”
“Oh yay!” Milly tailed right after. “It’s nice to have you onboard, Mr. Wolfwood.” She tipped her imaginary hat as she passed (Jesus she really was a looker when she smiled like that), then skipped off after Meryl.
“Shortie, so long you’re not the one drivin’,” Wolfwood said, and he wasn’t smiling as he followed them both, “I wouldn’t even drink on those seats.”
“Yes, you would.”
“Yeah,” He snorted, “I would.”
“When’d you clear out the backseat?”
“I didn’t,” Meryl huffed, looking behind her seat, “it’s the same as it's always been.”
“It is not.” Wolfwood scoffed, pointedly stretching out. He still couldn’t rest comfortably across the seats, because he was one tall bastard, but it was far more spacious than it’d ever been before. “Lookit this! I can almost actually fit back here, hallelujah!”
“Yeah, that happens when you aren’t sharing with another freak of nature.” Meryl scoffed, rolling her eyes and returning to her regular seating position. “Now maybe you won’t smack your head on the ceiling so much.”
“That had nothin’ to do with me n’ Vash back here, and everything to do with your driving skills.” He huffed, automatically bracing a hand above his head like he might slam it there again just by speaking it out loud. “I like yer partner already, she can actually drive. Keep it up, big girl.”
“Thank you,” Milly smiled into the rearview mirror, “but how come you never drove then, Mister?”
“Cause she wouldn’t fuckin’ let me.”
“You don’t even have a license!" Meryl protested. “And we wouldn’t let you, get that right.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Wolfwood lounged back in his almost-roomy seat. “You I could overpower any day of the week, but Roberto woulda caved my head in with his flask. It ain’t fun fightin’ the old drunkards, they get nasty.”
“Mr. De Niro didn’t sound all that bad.” Milly looked in the mirror again. Meryl, he noted, got tense in the shoulders. “Meryl said he was nice.”
“And a pain.” Meryl’s voice was just a bit clipped. “You would never call him nice when you were dealing with him yourself.”
“Preach,” Wolfwood kept himself as casual as possible.
“You don’t get to talk.” Meryl shot a hard look behind her seat.
“He didn’t exactly like me, you know.” Wolfwood muttered, turning his head to look out the window.
“I—” Meryl started. Closed her mouth, sighed, then leaned back. “I don’t know.” She took in a careful breath, then released it. Wolfwood felt a twist that might’ve been guilt (God help him) before she said: “And anyway, I said that about both of you.”
“You did!” Milly giggled, and he really wondered if she hadn’t noticed the brief tension there at all. And then jolted when the words set in.
“Nice?” He balked. “Two and a half years ain’t that long, shortstack, you ain’t ever called me nice in yer life!”
“Told you.” Meryl snorted, nudging at Milly’s shoulder. “Nice is a worse insult to him than anything else.”
“Oi!” He started, but Milly was giggling all over again. He couldn’t even be mad, she sounded so horribly genuine with it. Unlike Meryl, who was a little shit. “Ain’t no one call a thoma smart lest it's an insult, same shit.”
“I think you seem pretty nice.” Milly chirped, and Wolfwood faltered, staring at the back of her head. It was said with such earnestness. Like it was a common fact. Which it clearly wasn’t.
Then Meryl snorted, and he knew he’d been staring just a second too long. “Wow. You’d think she said you had the eyes of a good guy or something.”
“You weren’t even there!” Wolfwood shouted in a very manly way that was not at all a few octaves too high, thank you very much.
“Roberto grumbled about it plenty.” Meryl grinned, smug and shit-eating. “Vash said much worse about you afterwards anyway.”
“Ohhh, really?” Milly perked up.
“Eyes on the fuckin’ road!” He snapped, leaning back and kicking at Meryl’s seat.
“But my eyes are on the road?”
Meryl laughed, the prick, popping open the glove compartment and withdrawing what looked like provisions for the road. Something dried and maybe thoma-meat. She scrunched up her nose, but Milly took one hand off the wheel to make a grabby hand.
Meryl sighed with a smile, offering the bag over. Wolfwood caught her gaze lingering on Milly as she happily took the dried bit of meat and stuck the end between her teeth, humming happily and mumbling around it.
“Mr. Vash the Stampede seemed to know people pretty well.” She spoke around the jerky. “You think he’ll like me?”
“You?” Wolfwood snorted. “He’ll adore you. You’ll be peas in a pod.”
“Really?” Milly straightened up, grinning.
“Vash loves everyone.” Meryl huffed, but it was fond. She was still watching Milly. It was far gentler than he thought she’d looked at either him or Vash. “But yes, he’ll like you. If anything I think he saw way too much in Wolfwood. Too much in everyone, really.”
“On that, we agree.” He muttered, slumping in his seat.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Milly bit off half of the jerky, swallowed it, and then flicked her eyes from the sands to beam Meryl’s way. “You talk like he liked you a lot, and I think he couldn’t have picked a better friend.”
The funny thing was that, rather than rolling her eyes or smiling and laughing it off, Wolfwood’s eye caught Meryl blushing. She stuttered for a moment before shying (shying!) away and back into the center of her seat, eyes going elsewhere.
“Y-yeah, well,” She cleared her throat, loudly, “like I said, he’ll like you.”
“I said that first—”
“So, Wolfwood,” Meryl talked just a little louder, “where have you been?”
Wolfwood decided to let it go. He had new information to file away for later. “Oh, you know. Here and there. Nowhere in particular. Oh, actually,” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, “stopped in November for a bit. You graduated there, didn’t ya?”
“I did.” Meryl blinked back at him, surprised. “You remembered that?”
“Just happened to, I guess.” He brushed off instead of lingering and getting embarrassed. Milly was watching them in the mirror again. “Anyways, I had the thought, you know,” Here he let his grin slowly grow into bastardizing him, “I realized I’d found a whole damn city of Meryl’s. Couldn’t get outta there fast enough. I owe you an apology, shortie, smartasses can get a whole lot worse than you.”
He got a half-empty bag of thoma jerky thrown at his head for that. Worth it.
They stopped by a gas station on their way to find Vash. It was going to take another day at least before they made it there. Milly stayed out with the car to fill it up while Wolfwood wandered inside to find some water, Meryl following to get some snacks that weren't dried meat.
Wolfwood let her meander by herself for about three minutes before he tailed her into some of the back aisles. She was squinting at some horribly sugary snacks as he leaned on the shelves behind her. He crossed his arms slowly, let himself shift into the smug asshole he liked to be at times.
“So,” He started, already seeing Meryl stiffening as her Bullshit Senses tingled, “‘partner’, huh?”
“Yes.” Meryl slowly looked over her shoulder, immediately poised and ready to kill him on the spot. “Bernardelli assigns them sometimes.”
“Mhm,” Wolfwood lazily picked up a bag of ships to inspect it, “how’d they figure assignin’ you a partner was a good idea?”
“No idea,” She relaxed marginally, lulled into a false sense of security, “I think they were trying to corral how much I was searching for Vash. My stories were starting to lack because of it.”
“And how’d that go?”
“Badly, Milly’s helping me look for him.” She smiled, again, fondly, leaning back up and finally taking something that looked kinda like gum. “It’s funny, she didn’t really need any convincing. At first I thought it was because I was her senior, but, I don’t know.” She looked down at the bag, so incredibly sappy in her expression. “All she needed was a few stories and now she wants to meet him.”
“Well, he has a tendency to sound too good to be believed.” Wolfwood gave her that much. “How long has she been with ya?”
“A bit over six months.”
“Really? Woulda thought longer.” He hummed, setting the bag aside. “I’d say you seem close already, but I’m startin’ to suspect that’s just how Milly is.”
“Yeah,” Meryl sighed, but she was smiling as she turned around, eyes bright, “she’s something.”
“Mmm,” Wolfwood let his grin return, “sure is. She single?”
He barely bit back a howl of laughter at the violent storm of emotions that swept across Meryl’s face in such a short amount of time. Surprise, disgust, horror, unbridled fury, whole nine yards. As it were, Wolfwood instead snorted obnoxiously loud and made the cashier briefly glance up from the magazine they were reading.
“What, a man can’t ask?” He grinned, reaching into his suit jacket to knock out a cigarette.
“That is none of your concern.” Meryl bristled. God, this was fun. If he missed anything (not that he’d ever say such a thing), it was how much fun it was to piss her off. “For one thing,” She jabbed a finger into his stomach, “she’s a million times too good for you, so back off.”
“Oh, I agree.” Wolfwood casually put the cigarette between his lips and ignored the sting in his gut. “But hey, a guy can be a little selfish. Sounds like a lotta ‘no’ to me.” He pushed away from the aisle to casually stroll off.
“Wolfwood, don’t even think about it!” She snapped, right on his heels and yapping like a particularly tiny, angry dog. “She certainly wouldn’t agree in the first place, so you are not going to bother her!”
“I dunno,” He strode up to the counter, tossing down the new pack he was buying for himself, “think she likes me.”
“She likes everyone!” Meryl was far too loud for such an indoor place, but luckily the cashier didn’t care and just droned out the price as Wolfwood slapped down a few double dollars. “That means nothing! Wolfwood, I swear to God, I will kill you.”
“Oh, sorry,” Wolfwood grinned down at her, slamming that nail into the coffin with; “did you call dibs already?”
Meryl looked too infuriated to even speak, some small squeak escaping as she was red in the face. He spared her this much; putting down some double dollars for her snacks as well before taking his pack of cigarettes and walking towards the door. It took a few seconds before Meryl followed. He knew she followed because a fist made contact with his lower back.
“You dick!” She barked. “Is that what this is about?”
“You kiddin’?” He laughed, because her punches weren’t as hard as her jabs or her kicks, fishing out his lighter to take a proper pull of nicotine as they walked out the doors. “Think I’ve seen teenagers less moony-eyed than you.”
She tried to stomp on his toes, but he knew enough by now to dodge it with a wild laugh, shying around the side of the store. He was grinning so wide his face might split with it, and Meryl might just kill him in the next minute. Hadn’t even realized she could get that red.
“Wolf—ugh, you are one to talk!” She snapped, also missing kicking him in the shin.
“No clue what yer talkin’ about.” He said, knowing exactly what she was talking about as he exhaled a plume of smoke into the air. And she knew very well that he knew. “And anyway, can’t say I blame ya. I might actually have tried to shoot my shot if I didn’t have you threatenin’ to kill me in my sleep.”
“Good!” She barked. Then reeled back, flustered. “I–I mean, not that it’s even—cause I’m not—whatever!” He let her punch him in the ribs this time, just to get it out of her system. “And anyway, is this really the time to be looking for other people when we’re so close to finding Vash?”
“Again, no clue what you’re implyin’ by that.” Wolfwood took a drag, turning his head away to look out into the sands.
He looked back a few seconds later, finding Meryl staring dead-eyed at him, wholly and completely unimpressed. He held her gaze, just as blank faced, interrupted only by the smoke wafting in front of his face. He was not going to be the one to break on this.
“Did I ever mention we could hear you?” Meryl squinted. “Because we heard you two. More than once.”
“Okay let’s go see if Milly’s done fillin’ the car.” Wolfwood abruptly spun right on his heel in a very dignified not-retreat.
“It was really traumatizing!” Meryl called after him.
“Then you should’ve bought earplugs!” He barked over his shoulder, praying that when he made it to the car, Milly couldn't see how badly he felt like a cooked worm under the sun.
They drove through the night. Milly and Meryl apparently took shifts during drives like this (horrifying), and Meryl was conked out before long.
“I can drive, just so you know.” Wolfwood offered, leaning forward on the center console. “If you ever need a break.”
“Oh, thank you,” Milly yawned, “but it’s alright, I don’t mind. Meryl needs the rest anyway, I’m used to it.” She turned her head a little, smiling at Meryl curled up in her seat.
Wolfwood was going to relent and let Meryl take up some space in the back, but she hadn’t even asked. She used to ask. He remembered a few times where she and Vash switched places so she could sleep in the back while Roberto took a swing at driving. Wolfwood had never offered to go up himself because, like he said, Roberto didn’t really like him (for good reason). More than once he’d ended up with Meryl’s head on his thigh and each time he’d felt horribly out of place and yet—
God, he was pathetic. It was sad. Meryl was capable and still in those moments he looked down through the darkness of the back of that car and saw how small she was, hand hovering anxiously over her head. Once he caught Vash looking back at them with a terribly fond smile, and he’d turned away and glowered out the window for the rest of the drive, ignoring the tiny girl sleeping next to him as if he were safe.
He didn’t want her to ask. He didn’t want her to ask at all. That might imply he actually missed something about this.
“Yer too sweet on her.” He gruffed, leaning back.
“She’s not too sweet to herself.” Milly protested, a gentle thing, and he couldn’t find himself arguing with that.
“Well, don’t be doin’ the same for her sake.” Wolfwood hummed. “She’d jump ya for that.”
“Yes, suppose she would.” Milly chuckled softly, glancing back. “Do you really think you’re not nice?”
“I know it, big girl, s’just fact.” He crossed one leg over the other, turning his head to look through the window. “She just likes to get on my nerves about it. Her n’ Vash both. Especially Vash.”
“I’m sorry, then.” Milly hummed. “I might get on your nerves, too.”
“You’ll change your tune.” He said simply. “Till then, I ain’t gon’ be mad at you. Yer takin’ this all pretty well. Most got more questions about some guy they picked up in the desert, even if their partner knows ‘im.”
“Well, Meryl trusts you, so of course I do.” Milly said, as if it were really that easy. No wonder Meryl was infatuated with her. “And anyway, she really did talk an awful lot about you and Vash the Stampede.” Here her voice went a little quieter. “Not so much about Mr. De Niro.”
“Yeah, can’t imagine she would.” Wolfwood kept his voice quiet, too. “God rest his soul.”
“She had a lot of good things to say.” Milly went on. “They were, um, grievances a lot, too, but she was smiling when she said them, so I don’t think she really minded.”
“She minded in the moment.” He huffed. “But I’m sure yer more than used to that.”
“Not really, Meryl’s nice.” Milly smiled. She was almost always smiling.
“Yeah, guess she picks favorites, and it sure ain’t me.” He snorted, amused as he rolled his eyes. “And after all we did together.”
Milly glanced at him in the rearview mirror. He suddenly felt like he was being studied. Not in a bad way, certainly not in a Conrad way, simply observed. It made him pay attention all the same, eyes darting to meet hers in the mirror.
“What?” He gruffed, a bit too harsh even to his own ears.
“Sorry,” Milly frowned a little, eyes slipping back to the desert to check, then back to the mirror. “I don’t want to be rude, but…”
“Be rude.” He said, now intrigued. “Like I said, I ain’t gettin’ mad at you.”
“Do you still like Meryl?” She asked, such a simple and curious question. As if it didn’t hit Wolfwood so hard he was winded for a hot minute.
“I’m—sorry?” He coughed, holding it back last minute so Meryl didn’t wake up. Maybe that alone was his answer.
“I just couldn’t tell, is all.” Milly went on, casual as can be.
“I’m in her car, aren’t I?” He huffed, knowing very well that wasn’t a satisfactory answer. “Puttin’ up with her ass while tryin’ to find our idiot blondie. She’s—”
He stopped. Caught Milly still watching him, very intently, in the mirror. He glanced at Meryl asleep in her seat, and Milly did as well, before they met gazes in the mirror again.
“That’s not what you meant.” He choked. “You—are you insane?”
Meryl stirred, shifting in her sleep. He clicked his teeth closed and leaned back in his seat, Milly’s attention focusing back on Meryl at once. She rolled over in her seat once, facing the window, then settled. A silent breath of relief was released.
And then Wolfwood jerked forward, seizing his hands around the headrest of Milly’s seat.
“What the fuck has she been telling you?” He hissed in her ear. “Because she needs her head checked if you think we were doin’ anything than pissin’ each other off!”
“Oh, you weren’t together?” Milly blinked.
“No!” He hissed, barely keeping his voice down. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Well, I did assume a little.” Milly at least looked apologetic. “She really did talk about you and Mr. Vash the Stampede a lot. Seeing you two talk, well, reminded me a little of my older sister after she broke up with her boyfriend. He wasn’t very nice, though.” She stuck out her tongue a little. “You’re much better.”
“Jesus Christ, just shut up.” Wolfwood groaned, slumping back in his seat, elbows on his knees as he buried his face in his hands. “Never in a million fuckin’—actually,” He lifted his head a little, “I think she might’ve been a little into Vash, now that I’m forced to think about it.”
He’d already somewhat been aware of it. Every now and then Vash would be so stupidly earnest and Meryl would get caught, for a moment, staring at him. She bristled like a cat with him or Roberto, but Vash could easily lay a hand on her shoulder and give her a genuine thanks and she’d take it with a bit too much pride.
It was kinda funny to watch. Mostly because Vash clearly had no idea and Roberto most certainly did. They all made sure that poor man left this world the most stressed he’d been in all forty-something years of his life.
“Can’t blame her, really.” He admitted. “It’s Vash. If his looks don’t get ya, the rest of ‘im will.”
“Ohh, well now I’m even more excited.” Milly perked right up. “She did say you and Mr. Vash were—”
“How about we just agree everythin’ Meryl said about our stint with the Stampede was a load of shit?” He interrupted, for his dignity’s sake. “You just rest easy knowin’ she’s all yours.” He drawled out, because the totally-not-a-shield of being a smug prick was easier than anything else.
“Oh, well, I know.” Milly grinned into the mirror, teasing, he realized. He was beginning to realize she might be sharper than he thought. “I just wanted to know if I had to share.”
“Weren't you even gonna fight me?” He couldn’t help raising a brow.
“Meryl likes you,” Milly said simply, “of course I wouldn’t.”
Sap, he thought, which was much too similar to a tone he’d use for a spikey-haired idiot, so he had to tramp that down very quickly.
“We’re gonna get along fine.” He decided, leaning back to sprawl out over the seat again.
Somehow, Milly smiled even wider.
They found the ‘crash site’ by the next day. Meryl and Milly were like a whirlwind, out of the car and decked out in their notebooks and cameras in record speed. Wolfwood, for his part, just took the Punisher off the roof and lurked in the background.
The authorities that were there already were poking at the pod like it might blow up. Milly was in awe of it, but Meryl caught his eye only once to confirm he was thinking the same as her: lost tech like this couldn’t belong anywhere else except to Ship Three.
Wolfwood took to pacing the surrounding area. There were some canyon-like rocks further off, and he swore he saw scorch marks on them. He investigated a little, saw signs of a struggle and some blood being blown away in the sand. A pile of sand and rocks a little ways away he knew well enough to recognize as a shoddy grave.
He left it alone.
There was a house much further away. He didn’t go investigate that, but he could tell it was barely standing, barely taken care of. Didn’t seem to have any signs of life. By the time he wandered back to the girls, they were still taking pictures of the pod.
“So we gonna call ‘em or what?” Wolfwood gruffed, standing at Meryl’s back.
He was somewhat surprised she didn’t even jump or look back. “If they’ll even pick up.”
“They better.” He growled, eyeing the pod once more before turning away before the authorities could start asking who the hell he was supposed to be. “This is a shitty time to go puttin’ people in a bigger tizzy.”
Eventually he settled under the shade of some of those rocks. He double-checked his belongings—first the Punisher, ensuring she was ready to go if need be. He opened up the compartment and checked on Vash’s revolver. Ran his thumb over the metal before tucking it away again.
He ran a finger over the vials tucked into his coat pockets. He was low. He was already low, but getting hit by the car had broken a few. Granted the thought of tracking down the Eye to get a new refill made him curl his lip. He should’ve gone earlier. Now he couldn’t—if this really was the closest he was going to get to Vash, he wasn’t giving them a single chance at finding him.
Not that they won’t anyway. They’d find him no matter what, the bastards.
‘Course then the girls tried to drive off without him. So they were dicks for that. At least Milly was incredibly apologetic. Meryl told him he ought to keep an eye on his only transportation.
“How’re we supposed to find Ship Three anyway?” He grumbled, poking his head between the two front seats.
“Luida told me their typical yearly pattern.” Meryl said, nose buried in a map. “But they randomize it enough that it's only somewhat useful. The rest we’re gonna have to figure out based on the trajectory from the pod.”
“Luida told you that?” He balked. “They never told me!”
“Because they actually liked me.” Meryl stuck out her tongue at him.
“That’s bullshit, that old bastard’s the only one who didn’t like me!” Wolfwood protested.
“Luida also had some complaints about your smoking inside. And Brad doesn’t really like anyone, I think.”
“They have enough clean air!”
“You really shouldn’t smoke inside.” Milly wrinkled her nose, eyes still on the road. “Especially in a whole ship! If it’s real, we don’t have another one of those.”
“It’s real.” Meryl and Wolfwood chorused, insistent and bored respectively.
“You’ll like it.” He added on. “You ever seen a flower before?” When Milly opened her mouth, he barreled on. “Rhetorical question, I know you haven’t, no one has. They got flowers there.”
“Meryl told me about them.” Milly smiled softly, Meryl a little red in the ears as she kept focusing on the map. “She had some pictures from when she was last on the ship.”
“Then how come yer askin’ if it’s real or not?” He scoffed.
“I mean currently.” Milly clarified. “Why would they send out a pod if there wasn’t trouble?”
“Can’t be Knives,” Wolfwood hummed, “we’d hear about it if Knives had gotten ‘em.”
“The ship is protected, anyway.” Meryl went back to focusing on the map, tapping the steering wheel once for Milly to slightly change their course. “I doubt Millions Knives could so easily get in.” She paused, looking over her shoulder (Wolfwood did his best to keep his face neutral, having winced at her words earlier). “Right?”
Hm, right, she was…aware. Honestly the fact she hadn’t asked why exactly are you looking for Vash, Mister Traitor Man, was a sign of…something. He wasn’t sure what. But he wasn’t looking forward to that question because the answer would be terribly embarrassing and he really didn’t want to talk about the Eye right now.
“...well.” He cringed. “I know Knives ain’t there. But as for the others…”
“Ah.” Meryl tensed, then calmly turned her head to Milly. “Hey, how much faster can we go?”
“On it.” Milly didn’t even hesitate, forcing Wolfwood to brace himself against the seats as she floored it.
He’ll give them this, never let it be said the girls didn’t have a sense of urgency.