Circle Life

by volta arovet

part two: Wolf Pack

"Well, Tongari: long time no see," the stranger said with a familiar confident smirk.

"Wolfwood?"

The man nodded.

For a moment, the world stopped spinning. Wolfwood was dead, long dead. Vash had seen his corpse—had helped bury it, no less. Even if Wolfwood hadn't died then, the hundred years that had passed since they had parted would surely have taken their toll. All of the humans from that period of time were dead. Still, there was some strange pulling deep inside Vash that told him that the person in front of him was Nicholas D. Wolfwood.

In one swift motion, Vash grabbed Wolfwood in an enormous bear hug. Wolfwood returned the embrace with equal fervor.

"How is this possible?" Vash whispered. There were tears in his eyes. "This can't be real."

"It is. I got another chance at life." He leaned over to whisper in Vash's ear. "And I'm not the only one."

Vash's eyes widened, and his surprise was just what Wolfwood needed to take advantage of the situation. In one fell swoop, Wolfwood twisted Vash around in a headlock. He mercilessly rubbed the top of Vash's head. "Augh! It-ti-ti-ti-ti," Vash yelped. "What is that for?"

"I still owed you one for singing me up for that Quick Draw competition," Wolfwood informed him smugly, letting go of Vash's head. Seeing an opening, Vash reversed their positions and gave Wolfwood the same treatment. "Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow," Wolfwood yelped. "What's that for?"

"I still owed you for buying that run-down motorcycle." Vash grinned and let Wolfwood go, slapping him on the back.

Little Vash turned to Bob and remarked, "Grownups are weird."

"Hm," Bob agreed, utterly confused by what was going on.

"I like the blue coat, very nice," Wolfwood complimented Vash.

"Danke, danke, I like it too," Vash said proudly.

"You looked better in red, but still…" Wolfwood amended. Vash made a face at him.

"I see you're still wearing those black suits," Vash remarked.

"I'm a preacher now. A legitimate one, no less," Wolfwood announced.

The little girl took that moment to start tugging on Wolfwood's sleeve. "Daddy? I'm hungry."

The father bent down to the daughter's level. "I'm sorry, pumpkin. I'd like you to meet an old friend of mine. Vash, this is Vash. He's the person you were named after."

Vash knelt down in the sand, taking her hand and pressing it gently against his lips. "Bonjour, madame. A pleasure to meet you."

"You're weird," she told him matter-of-factly. She frowned suddenly and turned to her father. "Wait a minute—I'm named after a guy?"

Wolfwood laughed sheepishly. "Well…a long time ago, I told your mother that when we had children I wanted to name one of the boys 'Vash,' and your mother really liked the name, so, well, you know how your mother gets when she's excited about something. So when you were born, she didn't want to wait until we had a boy to use the name, so we decided to call you Vash."

Both Vashes were satisfied, if amused by the explanation. The little Vash looked at the big Vash in an evaluating way. "I think I can live with that," she approved in a very serious manner. She tugged on Wolfwood's sleeve again. "Daddy? I'm still hungry."

"Okay, pumpkin, let's go home." He turned to Vash. "Would you like to join us for dinner? My wife always makes more than enough."

"Since you asked so nicely…" Vash glanced over his shoulder at Bob, who was still standing awkwardly. "Another time, okay?"

"Um, okay," Bob stuttered as Vash waltzed off with his friend and the child.

The little Vash skipped off ahead of the two adults, occasionally turning around to demand that they hurry up or dinner would get cold.

Wolfwood spoke quietly to Vash. "I meant what I said before, about not being the only one who was brought back. My wife, you, ah, a long time ago she was Millie."

Vash's bright green eyes widened. "Millie! Alive? That's—" He couldn't put into words the mix of emotions that welled up inside him. Surprise—for the opportunity to see an old friend. Joy—that two of his old friends were able to find happiness together. Confusion—because he still couldn't understand how his friends, long dead, could be alive again. Worry—since there had to be a reason that this was happening.

"Jenny—that's her name now, Jennifer—doesn't remember anything about who she was a hundred years ago. She doesn't know who she was, she doesn't know who I was, she won't know who you are, and yet…" Wolfwood trailed off, his eyes distant.

Vash took the moment to study Wolfwood. His hair was a dark brown, not black, Vash noticed with a start, and his eyes were more silver and less blue than they were before. The Romanesque curve of his nose was different somehow, and yet…

"And yet, she's still very much the Millie I knew," Wolfwood sighed.

And yet, the angle of his head, the curve of his smile, the easy stride and easier turn of speech all screamed that the person in front of Vash must be Wolfwood.

"I think I understand," Vash said softly. Wolfwood smiled at him.

"You haven't aged over the years, but you look like you've changed, too. Your smile isn't so strained anymore, even if it does seem a little more sad," Wolfwood observed.

Vash opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off as the door to a house opened. A tall woman with long, wild brown hair stepped out of it. Her kind blue eyes took in the three people in front of her while her right hand played with the hair of the young boy currently clinging to her apron. Vash knew even before Wolfwood spoke that this woman had to be Millie.

"Jenny, I'd like to introduce you to my friend Vash. Vash, this is Jenny, my wife." Wolfwood motioned between the two.

"N-nice to meet you," Vash stuttered, grinning from ear to ear.

"Likewise," Jenny chirped. Her face was suddenly very puzzled. "Vash…" she trailed off, deep in thought.

She recognizes me, Vash thought to himself. She's remembering.

"Now we have two Vashes. How are we going to be able to tell them apart?" she mused.

Vash released the breath he didn't know he had been holding. He was disappointed, yet relieved.

"I'm sure we'll manage, my honey," Wolfwood said easily as he breezed past Jenny, pressing a quick kiss to her temple.

Jenny turned to the small child still clutching at her apron. "Brian, could you please set another place at the table?" she asked the child.

Brian mutely nodded his head and scurried away into the kitchen. Vash wondered how the child was going to set the table when he stood a full inch shorter than the tabletop. Little Vash hurried after her brother, announcing that, "If I don't help him you know he's going to drop everything on the floor."

"'m not," Brian was heard protesting quietly.

Somehow, the children managed to set an extra place at the table without breaking anything, although the littler Vash was quick to point out that Brian had almost dropped a plate twice and they really should leave the important jobs to bigger kids like her.

"All right," Jenny said, smiling sweetly as she heaped generous portions onto each of the plates, "from now on, it'll be your responsibility to set the table."

"Great!" the little girl cheered as if it were the greatest treat in the world.

Wolfwood leaned over to Vash and remarked, "I don't know how she does it, but she can always get people to do work and make it seem like a privilege. I don't think she's even aware that she does it."

Jenny sat down and began cutting Brian's food into little pieces. "What are you whispering about, Loopy?"

Wolfwood immediately sat up straight. "Nothing, nothing, my honey," he said quickly.

Vash quirked up an eyebrow. "Loopy?" he asked. Wolfwood opened his mouth to speak, but Jenny beat him to it.

"It started when Steven was about six or so, when for some reason he used to demand that people call him Wolfwood. He also had this cute habit of going outside when the fifth moon was full and howling at it, just like a little wolf cub. His parents gave him the nickname Loopy because it's like the word for wolf, Lupus, only since he was acting silly, they said he was acting 'loopy.' The name stuck. I think it's cute," she giggled. She blinked twice, her bright blue eyes suddenly slightly confused. "I thought you two were old friends. Didn't you know his nickname?"

Vash shook his head, clearly amused. "When we met, we just called him Wolfwood. He must have been holding out on us." He glared at Wolfwood in a mocking fashion. "He still acted loopy, though."

Wolfwood returned the mock-glare, leaned over to Vash, and whispered, "So, is that 60 billion double dollar bounty still good? Even with inflation, that's a good amount of money." Vash's glare became more sour; he still didn't appreciate Wolfwood's joking about his bounty.

"Dad-dy? What are you whispering?" the littler Vash whined. "Secrets, secrets are no fun. Secrets, secrets hurt someone!" She crossed her arms after she finished her chant, satisfied that she had made her point.

"I'm not telling secrets, pumpkin," Wolfwood explained in a patient voice. "I was just telling Mr. Vash about some of my plans to finance the orphanage," he said smoothly.

"Are you going to go out collecting donations tomorrow?" Jenny asked in her usual chipper manner.

"I was thinking about it."

Jenny clapped her hands together. "Oh good! When you go out, why don't you drop off my finished sewing orders at the same time? I'm sure that receiving their new handmade clothing would put them in a more generous mood."

"That's a good idea," Vash complimented as Wolfwood nodded sagely.

A moment later, Wolfwood shook his head in defeat. "She did it again," he mumbled to himself.

"What was that, Loopy?" Jenny asked, her voice entirely void of any guile.

"Nothing, my honey, nothing," Wolfwood replied sweetly.

The dinner passed swiftly in the same cozy manner. The day's modest triumphs—Brian had not cried when he skinned his knee that afternoon, and Wolfwood had received the new architecture designs for the orphanage—seemed like the most important things in the world when presented in that warm, untroubled house. It wasn't until Wolfwood offered to show Vash his church that the two had a moment alone, and the tone turned more serious.

They walked to the church in silence, each simply enjoying the other's company. Wolfwood lit a cigarette and blew a long stream of smoke, tendril winding up towards the stars. Reaching the entranceway, Wolfwood turned about and sat on the steps. Vash followed his lead, neither saying a word to the other, neither taking their gaze away from the stars to look at the other. Wolfwood blew another stream of smoke, which futilely tried to carve a path to the cratered fifth moon.

A strange choking sound caught Vash's ears. He glanced to his left and his breath caught in his throat as he saw tears in Wolfwood's eyes. "Wolfwood…"

"You don't know how happy I am that you're alive," Wolfwood choked out. His hand trembled violently, the glowing red tip of his cigarette quivering up and down in a demonic dance.

"Shouldn't I be the one saying that?" Vash remarked. Wolfwood shook his head.

"All my life I've had these memories. Sometimes I'd wonder if they were real. At times I thought I was mad. Even when I met Millie—Jenny—I couldn't help wondering if I had simply created Millie in my mind, and I had convinced myself that Jenny was this person. She's never shown any sign of remembering what happened one hundred years ago. I thought, if she didn't remember, then maybe I was the one who was mistaken. Maybe I was mad."

Vash placed a hand on Wolfwood's shoulder. The comforting weight was enough to momentarily stop Wolfwood's hand from shaking. Wolfwood continued. "For as long as I can remember, in this life, I've remembered what it was like to die, how painful it was. I remember praying to God for a second chance, a shot at a life that was simple and peaceful, with my friends." He took a long pull on his cigarette, savoring the sensation as the warm smoke filled his lungs and heated his chest. He released it with a sigh. "I think that's what made me come back with my memories, so I would know and appreciate what I had. That, and one other thing…"

He looked at Vash seriously, his hand betraying his nervousness, trembling once again. "I don't know why, but I keep having this image of you, like a photograph. You're wounded, lying on the sand, unarmed, and at someone's—I can't see who—gunpoint. I just remember being frustrated with you for being such an idiot and not realizing that you had a weapon—my cross—beside you. I think I yelled at you to use it. That's the last thing I remember." Wolfwood's voice lowered to a whisper. "I think I was dead when that happened."

Vash's dry mouth opened and closed twice before he said, "That's right. It happened just like that."

Wolfwood closed his eyes and murmured a silent prayer. "I think that was how I made a connection, beyond what's supposed to happen to people after death." Silence reigned for a few moments. "What happened to them?" Wolfwood asked abruptly.

"What?" The question had caught Vash off guard.

"After I died, what happened to the people I left behind? What happened to Millie and Meryl? Or even Knives, Legato, Midvalley, Chapel?"

Vash took a deep breath. "Midvalley fought me first, and ended up killing himself. Legato I fought after, and I, I…" Vash was surprised when I realized how much it still hurt, even after so many years. "I killed him."

Wolfwood tried desperately to show no reaction, but his carefully blank expression betrayed him just as easily. Vash saw Wolfwood's schooled expression, and his own heart fell as well. One of the constants of Wolfwood's time with Vash was Vash's at-times ridiculous aversion to killing. It seemed that soon after Wolfwood died, another part of his world had been buried with him.

Vash continued. "Chapel. I don't know what happened to him. I never actually saw him."

"I doubt he survived," Wolfwood murmured sadly, and brushed a stray tear from his cheek. "Meryl and Millie?"

"They eventually went back to their insurance company. I tried to keep in touch, but it was so difficult. Knives was…he required a lot of care, and by the time he, ah, when he no longer needed my care, so much time had passed. Millie eventually married someone, had five children, I think. She seemed happy. Meryl…" Vash broke off, eyes fixed sadly on the ground. "It was foolish to think she'd wait thirty years for me."

"Vash." Wolfwood took a deep breath, hesitating as if he didn't want to say what he was going to say. "Go to Novembre City. There's someone waiting for you."

Vash's heart caught in his throat. "Who—"

Wolfwood placed a finger over Vash's lips. "If you don't recognize her, then maybe I was mistaken. She's very different than she was before; she grew up under very different conditions, I suspect, but she's still very much…her."

"I see."

"Go tomorrow. I don't know how much longer she'll be there." The finger slid from Vash's lips and rested on his shoulder, the weight strangely reassuring. "And I'll still be here when you get back."

::v_voltaire takes the stage::

Consider this Wolfwood's chapter. Next chapter…well, you'll see. I bet you think you know who'll be introduced next chapter. You're wrong. Then, once you read the chapter, you'll think you know what happened. You're wrong. Just wait for it all to be explained.

I'm sorry that I've been writing so terribly slowly. Summer slump has really gotten to me, but rest assured that Circle Life and one other story are my main focuses now. I'm having a little trouble with the next chapter. It's a long one, and it involves romance. If there are any Trigun fans out there who enjoy (heterosexual, in this case, but there will probably be hints of closer-than-friends and hero-worship in the future amongst the later-introduced characters, so don't be closed-minded to that sort of thing) romance and don't mind beta-reading or offering advice, please email me at v_ and I'll be eternally grateful.

::v_voltaire leaves the stage::