Sharing Our Tomorrows

"Yes well, I’m sorry." Arthur spat, holding the gun up, aiming it levelly at Nicholas’ head. His body was taught with anger, pain, guilt, fear, the myriad of emotions plain on his face.

His nose was bleeding from the fight they had just had; he had been the one who first drew a weapon. His finger curled around the trigger, the bounty poster sticking out of his pocket. “I have to do this Nick.” He needed the money to get her back, to get her home where she was safe. Surely Nicholas could understand? No relationship, no mutual feeling of lust or friendship could override the bond between Arthur and Elizabeth Wasserman.

Milly was never the type to drink when upset. She preferred to drink because she was a happy gal, hanging out with her friends. She actually never drank alone in a bar. This would be her first time, and she was starting to understand why sad people do it.

“Bah!” After finally coming up for air, she set her drink down at the counter, resting on her elbows. There was a letter crumbled by her hand, which she tried straightening out in front of her.

The letters danced across the page. She tried reading clips and snippets again by blinking. It seemed to help, but it was taking too much effort and the message didn’t seem to change.

Milly Thompson,

The Bernadelli Insurance Society has been through some major changes this year! New policies and new (dedicated) agents are what makes this company stand out from the crowd. If it weren’t for agents like you, this company would not be what it is today.

That being said, the company as a whole must adapt to these changes accordingly. We’ve reviewed your stats and regrettably must lay you off, as your position is no longer available, effective immediately. All your duties and responsibilities will be dispersed throughout various other departments.

You will receive one week of severance pay for every year you have worked with the company. That makes 3 years, therefore 3 weeks. These will be added to your funds weekly, until the 3 weeks are up.

We want you to know that your lay off is not a statement to the quality of work you’ve provided this company. You were diligent, dedicated, hard working and we are very sad to let you go.

If you have questions about any other paperwork you may need, please contact HR.

Best regards on your future endeavors,

Brett Thomas of HR.

Milly sniffed at the words. Best regards! How dare they!? But she was hardly surprised. It took them this long to find Vash, and Meryl was nowhere to be found.

Three weeks. She would be getting paid for three more weeks and then she had a problem in her hands.

She’d either have to find another job, or head back home to her family.

With a groan, she rested her head on the counter and sighed.

His thoughts were immediately disrupted by a rather familiar silhouette in decidedly unfamiliar company. Or, the lack thereof. He glanced around automatically for the shorter of the two, to no effect. It was odd; he hadn't seen Milly in... well, a long time, actually. He wasn't sure he'd actually crossed paths with her since he returned to the land of the living. 

And here she was, slumped over the counter without a friend in sight, and it just... felt wrong. His feet moved of their own volition, and within seconds, he was seated at the stool next to her. He saw a crumpled letter, but averted his eyes in case it was something private. There was lending an ear, and then there was being nosy. 

He took the jacket, nodding at her thanks. "Hey, any time. You, too. Take care," he said, simply.  He did watch, as she left, to make sure she returned safely to the ship. Fortunately, it wasn't that far, and he could see it from here. Once she was safely inside, he turned to head back to his home. Home. Carter was stranded away from home, but he felt a renewed determination to get her there, or bring it here as best he could until then. Tonight, though, was a memory that would stay with him. 

"Hey, why don't we give you a ride back to your place? This probably isn't the best place to spend the night," Vash said, voice gentle to belie the slight teasing of his words. "Or if you'd rather just... borrow the bike, we can come pick it up some other time. You've had a long day."

Vash and Nick couldn’t help but appreciate the way Carter listened silently but intently, obviously examining each word and filing ideas away for later, processing the things they said. They enjoyed her company, but it was almost a relief when she stood. The conversation, relaying all that had happened, it was tiring. Good, but tiring. 

"Likewise," Nick said, smiling. Vash nodded. "And I’m sure there’s a lot we’d like to learn from you. It’s probably best for another day, though. I hadn’t realized how the time had gotten away from us," he said, grinning sheepishly. "Didn’t mean to keep you!" Goodness, but she really hadn’t even meant to come over at all, had it not been for the brief mistaken identity that led to all of this. 

"Likewise," Nick said, smiling. Vash nodded. "And I'm sure there's a lot we'd like to learn from you. It's probably best for another day, though. I hadn't realized how the time had gotten away from us," he said, grinning sheepishly. "Didn't mean to keep you!" Goodness, but she really hadn't even meant to come over at all, had it not been for the brief mistaken identity that led to all of this. 

outofcharacter: "I swear the colour looks better on phone." ;w; "So I was thinking that maybe if Wolfwood and Vincent came to be friends. Perhaps this might happened on some drunken night where yours stole his crimson band and just did the unspeakable. Feel free to take your time, dear! I know I took forever to reply yours. I’m sorry."

His grip, which had faltered when Vash had hidden the object of his rage from his sight, tightened again with a sickening crunch, but before he could go further, both his hands were wrenched away by the third Wolfwood. He growled and trashed like a wild animal, trying to kick him off.

With a sob, He rose shakily to his feet, white wings surging from his body. Immediately, he staggered over to the youngest. If he wouldn't defend himself, Vash would have to do it for him. He wanted to scream, wanted to wake up, wanted to turn back time. But he couldn't. He was empty, empty, there was no way to pull it off, no past Gate to link to. All he could do was try to keep them all from breaking further. 

19. our characters get injected by a small needle; the box then says "Data collection successful," and proceeds to vanish

Thing was, even if he hadn’t seen what had transpired exactly, from what he could piece together of the argument, he would probably have done exactly the same thing, Vash’s feelings be damned. The guy was more important.

When it started escalating, old insecurities from his younger self bubbling to the surface, Wolfwood approached.

And then— The other pushed Vash to the ground, hard. Vash didn’t move afterward, and Nicky sank to his knees. Wol ran to them, getting down too.

"Oi!" He turned to the younger man, "Learn to control yer temper, dammit!" Oh the irony Then he turned toward Vash and froze.

His partner wasn’t just not moving.

His neck was clearly broken.

Wolfwood stayed frozen like that for a long moment, his expression hidden by his glasses and shadowed by his hair. He knew that if he checked Vash’s pulse, there would be none. Vash was utterly still.

'Still as death..' Wolfwood thought fleetingly.

Then it hit him like a brick. Vash was dead. GONE.

'But it was an accident…' a small voice tried to say in his mind, but it was completely drowned by the fury that suddenly overtook him. He bristled, brusquely whirling toward Nicky and punching him in the face in one single movement, putting his whole weight behind the hit. The younger one went flying, not resisting, and with a feral cry, Wol was on him, one knee in his rib cage.

He grabbed his collar, smashing Nicky into the ground —hard ground, why did it have to be hard ground— and planting another fist in his face on the recoil. The sick feeling swirled inside him and clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth. Tears started falling down his eyes, but he didn’t notice them as wrapped one hand around his younger self’s neck, the other smashing into his face. “You killed him—” He growled lowly, a feral sound. Both his hands tightened, and he wondered in sickening satisfaction which one would give in first, his neck or his skull.

He barely registered what was happening. All he knew was pain. Physical pain. Enough to jar him from his catatonic state. But just barely. He allowed his counterpart to strike him. To throw him down. To strangle him. He deserved it. God, he fucking deserved it.

Mind still numb, Wolfwood raised his hands to the one around his neck, gasping for air through coughs. The other’s knee was crushing his rib cage, his hands threatening to shatter his skull and break his own neck as well. But he didn’t resist. Wide, frightened eyes looked up into the other Wolfwood’s watery ones, and he barely managed to speak.

"…I… I’m… sorry…" He couldn’t bring himself to cry. To fight. To yell. What right did he have? He’d… God, he’d killed him! He’d killed Vash! Maybe he’d been right… Killing was all he knew how to do. And a dangerous animal had to be put down, right?

Or a nightmare.

But it wasn't a surge. It was a horrible silence, aching emptiness where he hadn't even realized there'd been sound and life.  Just... nothing. 

He screamed, not even realizing why. 

Nick turned sharply to look at him, then immediately began scanning frantically for the others.  It didn't take long to spot them. He couldn't quite process, but he grabbed Vash's arm and sprinted over, feeling numb. 

Nick staggered, vision blurring, not realizing he was beginning to hyperventilate. He collapsed next to the fallen man, but his partner jerked free, stumbling over to the two Wolfwoods.

"Please," he whispered, wrapping his arms around Wol's shoulders, tears streaming down his face. "Please..." 

He fell between them, limp across Wol's arms and holding him like a lifeline. "Don't make us bury him, too. He didn't want this. None of us do," he whispered. He turned to look at Wol's face, blocking his view of the other. He felt a roaring in his ears, couldn't find the rest of the words, still couldn't really process, didn't WANT to process the emptiness, what it meant. 

He didn't think about whose hands had done it. He couldn't. He couldn't let himself blame, couldn't let himself lose control. Couldn't let himself cause more pain for all of them. It hurt too much already. 

But Nick had much less restraint.

Feathers bursting out in waves, he staggered to his feet, an inarticulate roar tearing from his throat. Somehow, he managed to make his way over to the others, fingers clamping like vices around Wol's wrist, prying his fingers forcibly from the other. 

"YOU THINK THIS IS WHAT HE'D WANT?" He shouted, eyes burning with tears and mako fire.  "Fuck," he gasped, "Don' make him cry up there."

if a facebook user named Hope Cotney adds you, do not accept them. do not reply to any of their messages. they are both homophobic and transphobic to the extreme. it’s possible that they may be on tumblr too- i do not know.

read below the cut for screenshots