A/N: Thank you BlueSynth for reading and reviewing. Glad you hear you're enjoying the fic! And thank you to any other readers even if it's just a fav and follow. :) Again, you can follow me on Tumblr crimson-amarone. Hope to see you there.
Now, here's a big ol' chapter, especially for the Trigun fans. Vash and Wolfwood are getting back in action a la TriMax style. Enjoy!
Chapter Summary
Previously, Clark begins learning about the world he's found himself in. Zazie takes a special interest in him. Lois and Jimmy rush in to help the wounded blond man.
Now, Eriks receives aid after getting shot. Lois breaks all the League procedures. Lois gets suspicious about Vash the Stampede's true identity. Wolfwood reunites with the real Vash and kick some ass.
—
Lois also leaped up from behind the barrels to the blonde man's side. Jimmy startled, reaching out to hold her back, but he was too slow. She heard him hiss her name, but it was white noise to her ears.
Unabashed at the shot man's state of undress, Lois flew into trauma medic mode. She immediately put pressure on the gunshot wound and called out for help from anyone inside the bar.
Lois mumbled under her breath as she went through her knowledge of emergency aid for a GSW, nerves rattling, having never put the skills into practical use. First, check if the bullet went through or not. There was no exit wound—it was still inside. Second, apply direct pressure with a clean cloth or gauze. Working on it. Third, hope to hell that the shot wasn't fatal before the patient could be appropriately treated at a hospital.
Jimmy rushed over a second later, skidding to a halt next to Lois. He seemed flustered, not sure what to do. His eyes swept over the area. Quickly spotting the man's discarded clothing, he grabbed them and laid his trousers over his hips. Then he handed the white shirt to Lois to help pack the gunshot wound.
A moment after Jimmy dashed over, a scruffy tan-skinned man wearing all black and carrying an enormous cloth-wrapped cross over his shoulder jumped down from the saloon porch.
The pair eyed the unfamiliar man, gauging if he was there to help or hinder their aid. It didn't help that his dark sunglasses hid his eyes.
Fortunately, the man gave them a sympathetic half-smile as he knelt down. Both of their guards lowered with shaky exhales. The man spent barely a few seconds appraising Lois's quick work to stop the bleeding before he spoke.
"Hey. Ya did good, Shortstuff," he looked over the brown-skinned young man, noticing the camera at his side. "Shutterbug." He nodded to both in turn as he gave them their nicknames.
Before either could reply, he stood up again and took a few steps back to the saloon where the bartender and a group of patrons gathered, just standing around and staring.
"Hey?! Is anyone gonna go get a freakin' doctor?! Or are all you gonna let the man bleed to death on your doorstep?!" he yelled, taking a significantly harsher tone than the more gentle one a second ago.
A bearded man in a brimmed hat shook himself out of his daze and then took off in a quick jog down the street.
The bartender headed back into the saloon and returned a moment later with a few clean washrags to swap in for the now-soaked shirt.
"Here, let me," the black-suited stranger next to Lois knelt back down and gently nudged her aside and took over for her.
Lois realized just how much her hands had started shaking from a mix of nerves and holding pressure on the wound.
"Miss, would you like to get cleaned up inside?" the bartender asked, stepping just in front of her. She nodded silently, struggling to pull her gaze from the wounded man.
The barkeep guided her inside and to a sink where she could wash her hands. They were still faintly stained red after three rounds of scrubbing. The man then offered Lois a drink to calm her nerves. Lois hesitated, thinking it wise to refuse, but she said the heck with it and threw back a single shot of whisky. She politely declined any more and turned to head back outside.
Near the door, a bulletin board caught her eye. One wanted poster in particular. It had a bunch of knives stabbed into it and even a bullet hole in the head of the man in the picture. The name Vash the Stampede and a sixty billion bounty should have made such a criminal seem dangerous and downright despicable.
However, that goofy yet endearing smile on the printed face of this Vash character turned Lois's stomach inside out (Damn, how strong was that shot?). The smile was like the same damn one Clark wore when he was nervous or upset but playing it off.
There was no way this Vash was that red-coated monster perched on his throne of a tank from just a few minutes ago. But yet, that creep would sure as hell fit the profile of an outlaw—maybe not such an outrageous bounty, though.
That one seemed more like a hardened criminal than this black and white portrait staring her in the face, reminding Lois of her hero.
Of course, her mind was stuck on Clark—she was just imagining things. She shook off the thoughts for now and trudged outside to stand vigil with Jimmy. She vaguely listened as her friend talked more with the bartender and the man with the big cross thing.
After what seemed like hours, the patron from before came jogging back with a gray-haired, mustachioed man in a white doctor's coat and a younger medical assistant who was carting along a portable transport stretcher.
The two men did a brief exam and then carefully moved Eriks onto the stretcher. They hastily made their way back to the town's tiny all-purpose medical clinic.
Lois and Jimmy watched, frozen in place from the shock of it all. Lois felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her as the adrenaline faded. Jimmy tried calling her softly, but she didn't hear him.
The man with the cross started walking in the direction of the clinic, but then he stopped when he noticed the two weren't following.
"What are ya dolts waiting for? Ya wanna make sure he's gonna be okay, don't ya?"
It wasn't until he called out to them that the shock subsided.
Lois turned to Jimmy, determination replacing her daze. "I'm going. You coming?"
Jimmy just shrugged, "Do you have to ask?" But worry was evident from the lack of gleam in his eyes and droop in his shoulders.
—
"Worst day ever! What were we thinking?" Jimmy whined, pacing back and forth in the hall of the small clinic. He went from scratching at his hair to flinging out his arms dramatically to pulling his palms down the sides of his cheeks so they stretched comically.
Lois and their new acquaintance, who hadn't said anything since entering the clinic, both stood leaning against the wall.
A couple of locals waited and talked in hushed voices from the sitting area within earshot of the trio.
Lois had her arms crossed tightly over her chest and stared intensely at the door to the emergency room further down the hall. Her foot tapped incessantly.
The scruffy black-suited man had an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, and his sunglasses still sat on his face despite being indoors. His clothed cross propped up against the wall next to him.
"Mad Max Lois is gonna kill us! I can't believe they just ran off and left us in the dust.
"Did you even listen to anything Lewis told us about League procedures?
"Minimize interference on other worlds. Avoid being exposed as much as possible. Always remember the mission.
"When I get my hands on that imp, I'm gonna… I'm gonna.. Oh, who am I kidding? He got away once. Even if we get him again, who says it's gonna stick this time…
"Ahhhggg! I'm turning into Clark. I have to be the Clark of the group when there's no Clark!" His voice rose to a shrill moan, and he went back to pulling his hair.
The next time he walked past Lois, she stopped him by sticking an arm in front of his path.
"You're right. We're here to find Clark. But I wasn't going to let someone die right in front of us. Clark would have done the same."
She looked Jimmy dead in the eye. He gulped and nodded stiffly.
After what felt like another hour, the doctor and his assistants exited the emergency room, wheeling an unconscious Eriks to an inpatient room.
Their new stoic acquaintance grabbed his cross and walked into the room behind the doctor without a word.
Lois and Jimmy followed close behind.
The doctor's assistants situated Eriks into a bed, covering him with a sheet. Eriks's long blond hair messily framed his face.
When the doctor turned around, and his gaze caught Lois, his lips and mustache quirked into the smallest of smiles. "Your quick reaction and aid helped Eriks more than you know. He would have lost a lot more blood if you hadn't jumped in to help when you did."
"I only did what anyone else would have done," Lois said automatically.
"Hmph! Yeah, ya saw how quickly his own neighbors rushed to his side. Coulda fooled me," the scruffy man spit out. (He may have literally spit if they weren't in a hospital.)
"Their pride was more important than their own lives. They don't even realize that guy just saved all their asses.
"Then this Mop Head had to be rescued by some strangers just passing through town," he added.
The rest of them were caught speechless until the doctor cleared his throat.
"I was amazed we didn't have to put poor Eriks through surgery. It was the most peculiar thing… As we were cleaning the wound, the bullet fell right out of the lad. All we had to do was finish cleaning and disinfecting, then stitch him up."
He turned his head back to appraise Eriks.
"He'll need his rest, but I wouldn't be surprised if he recovers quickly. The lad comes in like clockwork for all the bumps and bruises he gets chasing that Lina all around town. Keeps him on his toes..." The doctor turned back with a sad smile and shook his head at his thoughts. "Oh, that poor girl…"
"Eriks! Where's Eriks?! What happened to him and Lina? Has anyone gone to save Lina?!" an elderly woman's voice cried from down the hall. She shoved her way into the room with a nurse hot on her heels.
The short, squat, graying-brown-haired woman stopped in her tracks, seeing the blond man lying asleep in the bed. She sobbed and dove to his side. "Oh, my poor Eriks. What did those brutes do to you?"
"Ms. Sheryl, please! You'll disturb our patient…" the nurse pleaded from just inside the doorway.
The doctor stepped between the two as the nurse approached. He placed a hand gently on the older woman's shoulder. "Sheryl, dear. He'll be just fine. You know your boy is a tough one. Let's take a seat and let you calm down a little," he said in a soft voice.
A smacking sound from by the bed caught everyone's attention. The room went silent.
They all snapped to look over to Eriks. Right by the bedside, the black-suited stranger stood with his back to them all for a beat.
The man turned on his heel with a cheeky grin as he said, "Oh, look at that. Your patient is awake. What convenient timing."
The blond man gingerly stuck his right hand out from under the sheet and gave the smallest of waves.
—T&J—
After letting the Sheryl woman cry all over her 'Eriks,' the blond man asked everyone in the room if he could have a moment to speak alone with Wolfwood.
Out of the corner of his eye, Wolfwood saw the strangely dressed duo hesitate to leave but did so soon enough. He knew they were relieved Eriks had pulled through, but he could see the gears turning in their heads. Those two were curious about him and 'Eriks,' and in turn, Wolfwood was curious about them.
"Undertaker?" Eriks asked as if unsure of himself. He slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position. He winced in pain, but it was almost surprising he could manage at all.
"Yeah, well, now that's just part of the job. You know, after everything. I decided to get on the Lord's good side. Actually took up the whole traveling priest thing. Been practicing all the scriptures and prayers and all that jazz."
"So, we do know each other?" he asked.
Okay, that was strange.
"Hey, Mop Head… what the hell ya mean by that?" Wolfwood narrowed his eyes. He finally removed his sunglasses, slipping them into his coat pocket.
"I… I can't quite remember everything… from two years ago. But I had a sense of recognition. At the bar. I know you, but I don't remember. Or at least your name. I get mostly bits and pieces of faces." He smiled guilty, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Nicholas D. Wolfwood. This time, don't forget it," he grunted. He considered for a moment. His eyes widened, and his cigarette dropped to the floor. "Shit, do you know who you are?"
"If you mean, do I know I'm not really named Eriks, and I got shot by my own copycat? Then yeah, I know." His smile contorted into a deep frown.
Wolfwood let out a huge sigh and smirked. "Thank the Lord. That woulda been awkward."
"So, Vash the Stampede. Like I said. What the hell? You've been hiding away here the last two years? Thought you'd kicked the bucket in JuLai. Then rumors of ya started poppin' up all over the Union. Ya know Shorty's been draggin' her name through the mud tryin' to clear yer name. And she's been up to November and down to May and back chasin' all these damn imposters."
Vash dropped his head into his right hand, his hair falling into his face. "The short girl… I keep seeing glimpses of her. I can hear her calling out to me. Whenever I felt like I could just see all your faces, I thought the memories would come rushing back. But they're just beyond my grasp."
"Meryl. Her name is Meryl Stryfe, peas for brains. Ring any bells?" Wolfwood asked, pulling out another cigarette. He walked over to the window and opened it up.
"Meryl," Vash said in a whisper, testing the name. "Journalistic integrity…hated that smoking habit…There was another…?"
"I don't suppose ya get the Bernardelli paper all the way out in the boonies here?"
"I don't think so, why? We mostly rely on satellite radio for news."
"Meryl Stryfe and the dearly departed Roberto De Niro? Field reporters for the News Agency?"
Vash shook his head. "I swear it's all right in front of me—just can't reach it." Vash's gaze faced the wall, but his mind's eyes were looking at scenes Wolfwood couldn't see. "Roberto died? Some friend I am…I can't—"
"Well, you're gonna have to worry about that all later," Wolfwood grabbed something wrapped in a handkerchief from his coat and placed it in Vash's hand. "I've been holding onto this. Somehow, I knew you'd need a new one. That spitfire girly is waitin' for ya to get her home safe an' sound."
Vash revealed the silver revolver, polished and catching the light. It reflected a mirror image of himself along the barrel. The man in the reflection was but a dream he'd wanted to last. He wondered how that dream could be seen in the shape of a weapon. A cruel joke.
"I thought I could live this kind of peaceful life," he held the gun close to his chest and face. "I can't even remember what happened in JuLai, but when I hear what they say over the radio… I know deep down, it's all true, isn't it? How could I have let that happen?"
Wolfwood lit his cigarette and took a long, heavy drag, blowing the smoke out the window. He let Blondie bleed his achy, breaky heart with a friend since that's what he needed. Only the devil knew how long Mop Head had brooded silently on his own.
"And then I just forget about it? When I found myself here and no one was the wiser. It was like I was given the chance to stop running. Take an early retirement so I didn't hurt anyone ever again."
He sighed. "Let's go. Lina's gonna kill me if I don't get her soon... Why doesn't asking nicely ever work? I really hate bloodshed." He went to toss the sheets off himself but stopped suddenly. He frowned and looked over sheepishly to Wolfwood.
The priest raised an eyebrow and then smirked. "Planning on going in your birthday suit, Blondie?"
Vash pouted, turning red. "You mind finding me something to wear? Pretty please?"
"Sure thing, pal."
—L&P—
Lois backed away hastily from where she had her ear pressed to the hospital room door. She ran over to where Jimmy was sitting and grabbed a newspaper from the nearby table, pretending to read it like she'd been totally minding her own business.
A second later, the man in the black suit—Nicholas D. Wolfwood, she'd conveniently overhead—walked out of the room. He headed over to the nurses' desk, beginning to ask where he could find some clothes for his friend, but then Eriks's—or rather Vash's—Grandma Sheryl walked up to the man.
"I thought my boy would need a change of clothes when I heard what happened. I ran back home and got him a freshly washed outfit." She handed over the neatly folded pile of clothes and a pair of his glasses.
"Thank you, ma'am. Lemme give these to your son. I'm sure he'd like to get a little more presentable for family and friends." He gave her a charming smile (sans cigarette).
"Oh, bless you. How kind of you," she cooed, pinching his cheek.
Wolfwood walked past Lois and Jimmy, pausing near them on his way back to Vash's room. "If you know what's good for you, don't follow us," he said. They both jumped in their seats.
"Oh, and it's kinda hard to read the paper with it upside down." He smirked, looking over his shoulder as he took a few more steps forward.
Without a word, Lois followed the man with her eyes until he closed the door behind him. She snapped her eyes to the upside-down newspaper in her hands.
Jimmy was the one to break the silence. "He totally knew you were listening at the door, didn't he?"
Lois nodded and then chuckled in defeat.
—T&J—
"Are you absolutely positive you heard him right?" Jimmy asked, palms together, fingers splayed.
"I'm positive, Jimmy!" She hissed and then lowered her voice to the lowest whisper. "He said it loud and clear, 'Vash the Stampede,' and the other guy even admitted it."
"Okay… so what does that even mean? Why would someone want to impersonate the guy? They were nothing alike!" He hushed back.
"There was a wanted poster in the saloon for 'Vash the Stampede.' (Ugh, I can't believe I didn't notice the resemblance sooner.) Dead or alive at sixty billion dollars. So the Eriks-Vash guy is hiding out here or something. And the thugs are using it to their advantage—to intimidate folks."
"Si-sixty billion?" Jimmy shrilled. "M-maybe that's like nothing here. You know, chop off a couple of zeros. It could be $600 for all we know…" he said, knowing even that was a stretch.
"I'd like to figure out what the guy is wanted for. They kept saying something about July. And some reporter named Meryl has been trying to clear his name. It sounds like maybe he was framed? But for what? It seems like everyone wants to knife him. You shoulda seen what they did to the poster," she said, turning pale at the memory.
"Uh, yeah, duh. And everyone else was about to crap themselves 'cause they were so scared," Jimmy added.
Lois was about to reply, but a shout from the older woman cut her off. Sheryl had gravitated to speaking with some of the other locals while the pair talked privately.
"If none of you youngsters are gonna go save my grandbaby, then I'll do it myself!" Ms. Sheryl stomped over and grabbed a rifle right out of the hands of an overweight man from the bar.
The nurses and other men spent a while trying to get the older woman to calm down. She fought back bravely until another nurse rushed back into the waiting room.
"Eriks and his guest disappeared from his room!"
The doctor and a few from the group herded into the room. Lois noticed the wide open window and curtain waving in the breeze. The doctor picked up the note left on the bed and read it out loud.
"They're gonna get themselves killed!" the doctor gasped as Sheryl ripped the paper from his hands to read it herself.
Lois stepped over to the woman as she began sobbing. "Ms. Sheryl, was it? Please don't worry. I think they had a plan to get your granddaughter back. They'll need your faith in them." Lois said the words and tried to mean them. Not having the best of luck with putting faith in things made it difficult.
"How about my friend and I escort you back home? I'm sure they'll return straight there as soon as they're back safe and sound. Mr. Eriks will want to make sure you're alright, too."
Sheryl sniffled, smiled, and nodded at Lois. She patted her arm in the way Lois's own grandmother would. It made her heart feel heavy. "You're so right, dearie. There's not much an old lady like me can do to help, really. Sometimes, folks just turn a blind eye in these parts. Especially when Plant thieves and bandits run around like they own the world.
"My Eriks would give the shirt off his back if he could help another. People like you and him see the world in a different light than most of us."
Lois and Sheryl shared that moment, glassy-eyed, but the smiles returned to their faces.
—T&J—
Back at Ms. Sheryl's house, Lois and Jimmy politely enjoyed a cup of tea with their host, sitting around her kitchen table.
Her home reminded Lois of the Kent's. It had a warm and homey feel. The stark difference was how sparsely the rooms were decorated and the persistent evidence of living on a desert planet: cool clay walls, small windows, sand and dust in the nooks and crannies.
After making some less-than-awkward introductions and stumbling upon some make-believe answers to the "Oh, where are you from? What brings two youngins like yourselves to travel to a little town like this?" questions, they moved on to Lois's more pertinent line of inquiry.
"Has Vash been terrorizing the town for long? I'm surprised a man like that would bother with a small town like yours. Seems more like a big city kinda guy." Lois said, turning the conversation.
Sheryl clicked her tongue in distaste. "The Humanoid Typhoon rolled into town with his flunkies about three weeks ago. Couldn't tell you for the life of me (as short as I have left) what they want with Kasted City. After Lost July, we all hoped he'd gone for good. We already had our one Plant stolen by that outlaw a few months before July…
"We lost another Plant before that about nine years ago, right before a plague ravaged the town, and I lost my son Harrison and his wife Evaleen." She raised a fist to her mouth, holding back a sob. "My grandbaby Lina was only four years old then.
"With the loss of a second Plant, this city was on the brink of turning into yet another ghost town. But we're a stubborn bunch here. We don't know when to quit," she said with a teary chuckle.
Lois and Jimmy listened, the mood in the air pensive. They both realized that the world they found themselves in was much harsher and more raw than they'd anticipated. No wonder the League of Lois Lanes had such strict procedures, and the members held such an edge of pessimism. They must see all sorts of difficult things on their missions.
"I'm so sorry for your losses," Lois said softly, gazing at her half-full teacup. "I lost my mom when I was younger myself. She was very sick, and I was too young to really understand how bad it was."
She bit her lip when the thought of her father crossed her mind. But it had been weighing on her so heavily that it just flooded out of her.
"I pretty much lost my dad around the same time. He's—he's still around, but I don't know if we can ever fix what happened between us." Like Sheryl, Lois felt her walls shattering.
She stood up, excused herself, and walked outside onto the front porch. There was an old rocking chair there, and she sat down, covering her face, the tears falling freely.
Lois had been only sitting on the porch for a minute or two when she heard the faraway sounds of gunfire—like an army battalion's worth of gunfire. Lois jumped out of her seat and down the steps, jogging down the street a little. She tried to listen closely to where it was coming from. As she was looking around, she spotted a water-pumping windmill a couple of houses over.
She ran to the windmill and carefully climbed the rickety ladder to the upper platform. From up above, she could see what looked like a sizable two-story school building on the outskirts of town. She could just make out the silhouettes of dozens of men leaning out of the windows, raining lead down toward the ground.
She sucked in a deep breath, eyes going wide as she could see the tiny figures of the two men who sneaked out of the hospital. Lois watched in awe as the scene played out from afar.
—T&J—
The two gunslingers approached the long abandoned schoolhouse building that the thugs had taken over since they'd arrived in Kasted. A light breeze made the dust dance around their feet, fluttered the blond man's hair to one side, and whisked away the smoke from the other's cigarette.
Dozens of bandits aimed their rifle barrels down at the intruders from the row of second-floor windows.
The priest unsnapped the belt latch, which blanketed the cross-shaped Punisher. He braced himself, armed and ready. The white cloth flew away several feelz, waving like a massive flag in the wind.
"What the hell, man! You better not be planning on killing them with that!" his blond friend bemoaned.
Wolfwood staggered from his intimidating stance. "Worry about yerself and Spitfire, Blondie! Don't be screwin' around! That girl's life is on the line here! I'll do what needs to be done!" he retorted.
"What kinda priest are you?! 'Thou shalt not kill?'"
A rain of bullets pierced the ground around them. They didn't even flinch.
The blond man sighed but then smiled wickedly. "Ready?"
"Hell yeah! Let's get 'em!" Wolfwood replied, grinning wildly.
Not even five minutes later, the dozens of bandits lay moaning and groaning, nursing their wounds–that is, the ones not already in dreamland.
The imposter Vash had dragged his hostage out through the back of the schoolhouse, fleeing up the side of the nearby water town. Lina was cursing up a storm the whole way. The fake Vash loomed down from his perch with a maniacal smirk. His gun shoved roughly against Lina's temple.
"You fools! You don't know who you're dealing with!" he shouted from above.
Wolfwood slammed Punisher into the dirt and leaned back on it, grabbing his pack of smokes. "Eh? Who were you again? Ohhh, right, 'Vash the Stampede,' was it?" With another cigarette between his lips, he blew out a stream of smoke.
The man cackled, yanking Lina around in his grip. "That's right! I'll teach you both a lesson. You'll learn to regret uttering my name, you insignificant ants! Drop your weapon, or the girlie meets her maker!"
The blond man shrugged and did as commanded. He gently laid the revolver down on the ground just so.
'Vash' laughed and whipped his gun in their direction. "My name means that before you can blink, I'll have shot you both dead where you stand!"
And before that blink, the supposed Humanoid Typhoon himself went tumbling off the top of the water tower, blood spurting like rain into the air.
The blond man had his smoking revolver in his hand. He was still crouched down from the split-second movement of grabbing the gun from the ground and shooting off three bullets.
Both the gunman and Lina screamed, falling to the ground. Lina's rescuer dove, catching her just before she hit the ground. Her captive didn't get the same courtesy.
The blond man stood over the imposter with a fainted Lina in his arms. The man tried to scramble away, but the bullet wounds and likely a broken tailbone kept him from moving very far.
"What a strange coincidence. Vash the Stampede is also my name. (Also, I'm six times faster than a blink of an eye.)"
The imposter shook, wide-eyed and pissing his pants.
The real Vash the Stampede clutched the girl in his arms tightly. And then turned and walked away.
—L&P—
Back inside Granny Sheryl's house, Jimmy reeled, knowing how much Lois had been holding in. She had done her best to stay strong for Clark. Even though Jimmy's pal was the man of steel, and they were the squishy ones, Lois was pretty much a woman of steel herself. Tough as nails that one.
He noticed that Ms. Sheryl looked concerned for her guest, so he'd try to lighten the subject. Maybe sneak in some investigating at the same time.
"Your son, Eriks, seems like a really brave and selfless person. I know we haven't even met the guy—he was kinda unconscious by the time we ran over to help—but he reminds me a lot of my best friend, Clark. You know the type, always saving cats from trees, holding open doors for the ladies, diving in front of speeding bullets to save someone else, yada yada." He rolled his hand.
She laughed at what she took as a joke. At least Jimmy hadn't said stopping giant robots or putting a train back on its tracks after derailing.
"Your friend sounds like a very sweet young gentleman. Don't sell yourself too short. Even the little things matter. Like having tea with a lonely old lady. Just one person like that helps spread a little more kindness in the world."
"Aw shucks, Granny, you flatterer," Jimmy replied, swiping a hand in a modest gesture at the woman.
She belly laughed, and Jimmy joined in.
When their laughter faded, Sheryl took another sip of her tea. "Eriks joined our family, oh, I suppose a little less than two years ago now.
"He'd been wandering lost in the desert—can you believe the poor soul was one of the few survivors from July? The boy was a right mess but Lina, the little angel of ten years old, rescued him like he was a stray puppy. We helped him get cleaned up and put some meat back on those bones. He's a good lad, such a doting big brother to Lina.
"Eriks and Lina… those two are my little miracles." Sheryl had the warmest of smiles. Her glossy eyes caught the sunlight coming through the small window. She removed her glasses and rubbed the corners of her eyes.
They made a little more small talk for a bit. Sheryl got up to put together lunch—six portions for when the two men and her granddaughter got back.
Jimmy was in the depths of thoughts about this Eriks or Vash character—or whoever he really was. This day was just too much to process.
"Why don't you go check on your friend?" Sheryl said, tugging him back out of his aching head. He just nodded in agreement and got up.
When Jimmy exited the house, Lois was nowhere to be seen. He immediately panicked, rushing down the street and calling for her.
"Jimmy!" he could hear her call. Jimmy spun around, looking for where her voice was coming from. Finally, he saw her small form climbing down the ladder of the weathered windmill. He sprinted over to meet her as she stepped off the last rung.
"Do I want to know what you were doing up there?" Jimmy asked, panting and wiping his brow. He wasn't that out of shape, but hot damn, it was hot outside.
"I heard a lot of gunfire, and you know me, my first instinct is to just run right toward the danger. From up on the windmill, I saw everything. I mean everything!" She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him back and forth. Her eyes ablaze.
"Slow down, Mad Dog. What did you see?" Jimmy replied, pulling himself away from his friend. "And can we please go back in the shade? It's like a million degrees out here. (So much for these snazzy adaptive uniforms, pft.)"
They walked back over to Granny Sheryl's house and plopped back down into the two rocking chairs on the porch.
"Those two—Eriks-Vash-whoever and the Wolfwood guy from the saloon—they annihilated those thugs and the fake Vash!"
"Like pa-pa-pa-pow ka-booom!" Lois giddily did her cutesy finger guns (though trying to be mean-looking), pretending to be both sides of the fight. She followed by slapping her hands together and flinging them into the air in an attempt to represent some kind of giant explosion.
"Uh-huh… Lois… I think you might need to drink more water. You're acting kinda loopy right now." Jimmy said, standing up to go inside and get her a glass.
She grabbed his arm and gave him that look. "I know I sound a little crazy, but it was completely insane. You shoulda seen it. Even being an army brat, I haven't seen soldiers in a gunfight like that before." Lois sagged a little in her chair, realizing the heat was getting to her a bit.
"Okay, okay. I believe you. I'm still gonna get us some water. Don't go anywhere this time!" Jimmy pleaded. She merely rolled her eyes and nodded.
Jimmy returned just a minute later with two glasses. Lois thanked him and then took a long drink, almost finishing the whole glass in one go. She sighed and turned to look down the street, expecting to see the rescuers return any moment now.
"So, uh, you okay? I mean when you got up from the table earlier… Is everything gonna work out, with your dad and all…" Jimmy asked hesitantly. It was the reason he came out to check on her in the first place.
"I know you probably don't wanna talk much about it, but I'm here either way…" Jimmy added.
"I know. Thanks, Jimmy," Lois replied with a half smile. She raised the cool glass to her forehead and closed her eyes. "I've learned to have thick skin when it comes to dad. This last incident… well, I just don't really know. And If I start talking about it now, I won't have the strength to keep looking for Clark. Once we find him, maybe I can let myself worry about it."
Jimmy just nodded. He could empathize if not fully relate to her struggle.
"What's our next steps? We lost Mxy, the team lost us…" Jimmy asked.
"Jalana would find us no problem if they could." After a pause Lois added, "You know I might run outta hair if they keep needing it to track people from our Earth."
"Are you making a joke? Is Lois Lane making a joke?" Jimmy teased—a big grin growing on his face.
Lois chuckled, a spark returning to her eyes. "I could be more like Furiosa-Lois if you prefer?"
"Nope. Earth-12 Lois is perfectly fine. Please and thank you," Jimmy said, crossing his arms and giving her the stink eye.
Lois's chuckle morphed into a sigh after a moment. "I'm worried something happened to them. If they were still in town, I feel like we would've run into them by now. Maybe Mxy took them hostage or something."
As the duo came up with a number of theories—some less serious than others—they saw two tall figures and a shorter one walking painfully slowly in their direction.
They both hopped to their feet. Jimmy called out for Ms. Sheryl, and the woman came barreling out of the house, swooping up a protesting Lina in her arms. They all laughed happy tears, and even the mostly broody Wolfwood cracked a smile. The two men only looked a little worse for wear, but they were both clearly exhausted.
Hugs and kisses and tears all done and gone, Sheryl herded them all into the house to the delight of many rumbling stomachs.
—T&J—
"Now, as far as I was told, Miss Lois here was the one who rushed in to your aid," Sheryl had begun as a way to introduce their guests. "And this is Mister James."
"My friends call me Jimmy," he supplied.
Vash had barely caught a glimpse of the young woman earlier, whose face hovered over his as his sight went dark. At first, he had thought it was the other small woman whose face haunted him in his elusive memories—Meryl's face. While there were similarities, he could easily identify the details that distinguish them.
Besides the woman's selfless actions, which did intrigue Vash, it was hard not to notice their distinct matching uniforms. The uniforms immediately reminded him of the SEEDS crew uniforms. The clean whites and uncommon fabric set the clothing apart from the kind fashioned since the Big Fall.
Wolfwood had shared a little of his suspicions on their way back, and Vash could also see what he saw. Wolfwood also happened to mention the pair's inquisitiveness—apparently the woman had listened in to their private conversation back at the medical clinic. Vash couldn't believe he'd been so out of it not to notice himself. His senses were usually razor sharp. He was rusty.
Of course when Wolfwood mentioned that all, he had a moment of panic, obviously not really fond of strangers finding out who he was. It never ended well for anyone. But hearing of their lack of hesitation to run into danger and their unusual presence, the panic cooled to a simmering worry.
So here they were, silently trying to figure each other out. Eating sandwiches together for lunch in his quaint, little home of two years.
"It's nice to meet you. I owe you for saving my life, Miss Lois," Vash-as-Eriks said genuinely, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Oh, no, it was the least I could do. After what those thugs said about you and Lina, I just did what I could to help. I woulda knocked that guy's block off myself if there weren't so many of them. What a bunch of creeps."
"Fortunately… they won't be bugging anyone here… any time soon," Wolfwood grumbled, between huge bites of his sandwich. "Ain't that right, Blondie?"
Vash chuckled but gave a weary, exasperated expression and sigh.
"You boys seem quite chummy… I don't think I've seen you around town before? Eriks, is this a friend of yours?" Granny said, pouring more water into his glass.
Wolfwood answered for him, "Oh, yeah, Eriks and I go way back!" He grabbed his friend around the shoulders and rocked them both to and fro.
"We are unfortunately acquainted, yes," Vash mumbled.
"What was that Mop Head?!" Wolfwood elbowed his friend in the ribs.
"I meant! Best of pals, Nicholas and I!" Vash whined, pushing the other man off and pouting, rubbing his side.
The others around the table snickered.
After a little more small talk and Granny had cleared the table, Vash pulled her and Lina into the living area.
"This-this is hard for me to say, but I'm…" Vash began, swallowing a lump in his throat.
"You're leaving… aren't you?" Lina finished for him softly, tears forming against her will. She turned her head to look to the side and down at the floor.
Vash-as-Eriks nodded, the words not coming out.
"Oh, my boy… I hoped the day wouldn't come, but that was just an old woman's wishful thinking…" She gave him a gentle hug, mindful of his recovering injury.
Eriks was about to hug Lina as well, but the girl ran out to the porch. His shoulders sagged and bittersweet smile turned into a pained frown.
"You don't let her push you away. She'll regret it if she doesn't get to say a proper goodbye," Granny said, patting her wrinkled hands on his sagging shoulders.
She went into another room and returned with scissors, a comb, and a sheet. She handed it to him and then nodded toward the front door.
Eriks took the items, gave Granny a hint of a smile, and went to find his temperamental little foster sister.
About half an hour later, Vash came back into the room with their guests, sporting his new hairdo. He pushed his orange-tinted glasses up the bridge of his nose. The red duster he looted from his imposter draped over his shoulders.
The group took in the transformation—like a fiery phoenix shedding off the gray ashes from its reincarnation.
Vash the Stampede had been reborn.
—L&P—
When Jimmy and Lois considered giving their goodbyes and thanks to their hosts to get back to looking for Clark, Mxy, or the Leaguers, Wolfwood approached them.
"And how do ya expect to find your friends? You're not exactly from around here, are ya?" He gave them a stern look, ready to gauge their reactions.
Lois and Jimmy shared a nervous look that silently said, "Crap, what do we say?"
As always, Lois took the lead (she still had one year of seniority, after all). "We appreciate your concern, but we have our business handled," she answered as confidently and calmly as she could manage.
"Look, Shortstuff, if I'm right about you two, ya only got a glimpse of what this world is like. Ya won't make it more 'an a few days on yer own if ya step foot outside this town."
"It's best if we don't get anyone involved in our affairs…" Lois countered, her resolve hardly wavering.
"Cut the crap. You're stranded in an unfamiliar hellhole of a place. But ya went outta your way ta get involved in our affairs." His voice lowered to a harsh whisper. "Ya unknowingly helped someone who'll play a key role in our fate on this planet," his gaze crawled over to land on Vash.
Lois and Jimmy both slid their gazes to the man as well. Questions bubbled up in their minds. For Lois, on the tip of her tongue.
"It was either the devil's luck that put you in his path or your ticket to the afterlife if you leave," he said. He grabbed his huge cross weapon by the front door before heading outside and down the porch.
"Wait! What do you mean? Where are you going?" Lois said louder than she meant to. She and Jimmy followed him outside. The screen door clattered behind them.
"Gonna go find somewhere I can get a drink! I was rudely interrupted earlier, remember? Think it over if ya must. I'll know yer answer if you're still around when I get back." With that, he walked into the evening light.
—T&J—
