Chapter Text
There’s a story that is told between the states of Leidenschaftlich and Gardarik, a story that perhaps no one really knows in its entirety. It’s the story of a weapon and its soldier, or perhaps of a doll and a Major, but then again it could also be a story about two twins who probably shouldn't even have been born. The only certain thing is that it's the story of a war, of the casualties it caused and the people who took part in it. It's a war story like any other and, as the most banal of them, it starts with flames. That’s the first thing Vash clearly remembers, the only thing he sees behind his still closed eyelids. There’s a buzz in the background that accompanies his awakening, a clear coming and going of hasty steps and overlapping whispers.
“When will he wake up?”
Vash is sure he's heard this voice before, but can't remember who it belongs to, in his mind only flames and blood. Lots of blood.
“The anesthesia should wear off in a few minutes, Lieutenant Colonel Double Fang.”
Double Fang. This echoes a much more concrete image in Vash’s mind, a memory of white hair being messed up by large tanned hands.
“Please, just call me Livio, I’m not in the army anymore.”
Oh, right, the army. He was a soldi- no; he was a weapon, a strong weapon, one of those that makes you win battles even when you’re outnumbered by the enemy. And who's the enemy? Vash isn’t sure, he’s not even sure he knows what the word means.
“Oh, forgive me Mr. Livio.”
The voice that answers is sweet, feminine, cordial. There were no women in the army, Vash is sure of that.
“Don’t worry. And your name is?”
Noise of footsteps circling the bed, of a drawer being opened and closed.
“Call me Rem, Mr. Livio.”
Vash doesn’t want to open his eyes, not yet, but he knows he can't continue with this farce for long. So he focuses on his body, starting from the bottom, and decides he'll only open them when he gets to the head. He moves his toes first, slowly under the blankets so as not to be discovered. Then he tries to feel his legs, the strong and fast ones that have saved him more than once; they seem sore but they’re definitely his. He shifts his attention to the abdomen, and a feeling of nausea rises from his stomach to the tip of his dry tongue; he senses that it’s empty, as if he hadn’t eaten for days, but the mere thought of food makes him want to throw up. His back is also sore, obviously from lying down for... how long has he been here?
Then he comes to his arms. Vash would like to move the fingers of both hands, but something’s wrong: from his left arm only comes a mechanical noise in response to his nerve impulses, like something clanging.
Vash suddenly remembers: a deafening scream in his ears, flames before his eyes rising all around, the image of someone frightfully similar to himself with a gun pointed at him but... but the gun suddenly moves towards a figure in a black uniform and the only thing Vash manages to do is put his arm between the figure and the bullet.
Vash’s body reacts instantly, the man sits down on the bed, his eyes wide open while he breathes quickly, as if there isn’t enough air in the room.
“He’s awake!” says the male voice, but Vash can’t figure out where it’s coming from because the room is spinning around him.
“Mr. Livio I have to ask you to step away, I don’t think Vash is okay.”
More voices, more steps, Vash is out of breath. His eyes flow over the room around him but it’s as if the images he sees cannot be imprinted in his head.
“W-wh-wher-,” he manages to say in the midst of panting breaths, battling the nausea that makes it hard for him to even think about moving his tongue.
“Vash don’t push yourself,” says the woman’s voice. One hand rests on his chest and gently pushes him back towards the pillow. Vash focuses on the nurse’s face, Rem is the only thing he can make out in the chaos that surrounds him. He doesn’t even try to move his left arm, Vash clings to Rem’s shirt with his right hand, as if it’s the only thing that can keep him anchored to reality.
“Whe-where’s,” he tries again. He hears Rem giving orders he can’t understand, his mind too busy formulating a single question. There’s something thin and cold running through his skin, a liquid spreading just below his right shoulder and his body seems to escape his will, as if it were slowly disappearing.
“Wh-where’s W-Wolfwood?” Vash asks. Then there’s only darkness.
__________
There was never any light in the cell, but maybe it was better this way. The only opening came from the thin line separating the door from the floor. Vash hated the door, and hated even more the light coming from it. Seeing the light never led to anything good, it meant that the metal door had been opened and that soon the monsters would drag him to another experiment, to another fight, to other drugs to swallow. So Vash got used to the dark, the dark was comforting, warm, definitely more pleasant than anything that was going on under the neon lights out there.
Only Nai's blue light escaped his hatred, the one his entire body emanated during Vash’s worst moment to comfort him. Vash had never learned to do the same, it only happened on a few occasions and it was not clear to him why and how, but Nai knew how to control it. Nai was able to get a smile from him even after the worst trainings the monsters outside the door forced him to, even when he came back covered in blood with only one damp towel to get it off. And often Nai had also been subjected to the same treatment, in another room a few feet away from him, yet he always tried to make Vash smile, illuminating the marks that covered his face only halfway or in shots to look funny. Vash didn’t need to ask him why he worked so hard for him; even though they were two different entities, their minds were united by a constant stream of thoughts going from one to the other. So Vash knew that making him laugh was Nai's way of making himself feel better, despite the strain and the pain. In exchange Vash held his hand when he heard him cry at night (was it really night though? It’s not like they could know, being locked in there), when probably Nai thought that the twin was already asleep and let himself go, showing the weakness he always tried to hide. Vash cleaned his wounds when Nai was too tired to worry about them, even though he had very few tools at his disposal. But they were smart, far more than the monsters themselves could imagine. They quickly figured out how to get what they needed, stealing when humans were distracted with cunning movements, almost imperceptible to the naked eye.
They had thought of running away several times, but where to go? Who could have assured them that outside the biggest door of the whole institute a better fate awaited them? As long as they let them live together, it would have been fine.
One of the worst things was when the monsters hung on only one of the two for several days in a row, leaving the other alone in the cell, forced to hear every single thought of the twin.
“We must test their resistance to pain,” he heard the monsters say. Vash didn’t know if he suffered more from being subjected to all kinds of atrocities or from hearing Nai’s thoughts when the same happened to him; maybe that was exactly why they’d been separated during those experiments. Vash tried not to cry, but when he was alone in the cell, it was impossible. In those days, he could only close his eyes, his eyelids swelled so much he struggled to keep them open. But he couldn’t sleep anyway because of the screams that rumbled through his head.
There were days of rest. Whole days, when no one went to disturb them. Vash and Nai would fix their wounds, scrub the blood off, shorten their fingernails with whatever sharp object they could scrape. Vash's favorite thing were Nai's thin fingers between his long blonde hair, combing it the best they could. Vash always insisted that he could do it to Nai first, so that he could then relax under his twin’s gentle touch until he fell asleep. Sometimes he felt guilty about it, but Nai always let him do it first, never complaining.
Then at some point, the days had become too many, and the monsters had started behaving weirdly. From the outside there were continuous noises, objects being moved and footsteps rushing up and down the stairs of the institute. The strangest thing was that the twins had been given food and water for several days in a row, along with clean towels and new clothes. Neither of them really wanted to believe that the nightmare was about to end, but both read that hopeful wish in each other’s mind.
One day the door had opened for the last time.
Nai and Vash had been taken far beyond the rooms where they had suffered the worst torture for two whole years, into an unexplored part of the institute, to an empty room, completely stripped of all furnishings, where they were once again left alone. Maybe a few minutes had passed, maybe hours, neither of them cared, too busy trying to decipher the whole situation. Then the worst really happened. The door had suddenly opened wide and a bunch of soldiers in blue uniforms had entered, headed for Nai. Nai had managed to look Vash in the eyes, the fear of being dragged away from the twin was the only thing legible in his aquamarine irises and his word-crowded mind. A soldier had taken advantage of the moment of distraction to stick a needle right on the side of his neck.
“Vash!” was the last and only thing the boy heard loudly from the twin, after which his eyes closed and the same soldier who had sedated him took him away.
Vash felt a throbbing pain creeping through his chest at the sight, his eyes clouded by the same tears that had begun to pour down his cheeks. But he didn't even have time to think about running after him, because soldiers in green uniforms had made their way in. Vash pushed, kicked and even bit someone, but it was all for nothing. Eventually his own eyes closed and his body stopped fighting.
__________
Learning how to move his left arm turns out to be easier than Vash could have imagined. The metal part starts just below the shoulder and even if it doesn't look like it, it's almost lighter than a flesh and bone arm. There’s a mechanism that allows the arm to react more or less quickly to nerve impulses and Rem teaches him to adjust it as he pleases, without having to ask for help whenever he feels the need.
Rem takes care of him personally every single day, so much so that Vash comes to wonder if the girl does ever go home. She teaches him how to clean the mechanisms, how not to damage them and how to fix them in case they jam for any reason. Rem treats his wounds and replaces the dirty bandages with new white and clean ones, she brings him food and makes him take the medicine he apparently needs. But Vash likes her above all because she keeps him company, because she walks with him for hours in the hospital’s garden, pointing at the flowers and explaining their meaning to him (even if he should be resting), because she always leaves him a candy on the tray for lunch and dinner. Above all, because she treats him like a human being.
There’s one question Rem refuses to answer though, a question apparently everyone in the hospital refuses to answer. Where’s Wolfwood? Why hasn't he shown up yet? Is he hurt? Is he in the hospital, too?
Vash tries for days to get any information about him but no one seems to want to please him. Rem doesn't even look him in the eye when he asks, even though she keeps smiling as she does her usual chores.
Then one morning Vash wakes up and there’s something different. Rem doesn’t show up despite its time for the first daily check-ups, there’s an unusual silence in the hospital and at the bottom of the bed there are three different stuffed animals: a brown dog, a black cat and a blue rabbit.
“I didn’t know what you’d like, so I bought three. What do you think?”
Vash quickly turns to the voice and his eyes intersect with golden irises that he’s sure to have already seen.
“We’ve met before,” he says confidently.
“Seventeen times in all, right?”
The man smiles and nods in response.
“I already knew you were smart, but I thought you still had to recover.”
Vash's eyes return on the stuffed animals at the bottom of the bed.
“People who are convalescing are given stuffed animals,” the man explains as he places some silvery tufts that must have escaped his pony tail behind his ear.
Vash isn’t sure of why he should accept one, but he trusts the man’s words. Wolfwood trusted him blindly.
His blue eyes run over all three animals, but Vash already knows which one to choose, in his mind only the image of Wolfwood crouching to cuddle a stray black cat as they made their rounds around the camp. So Vash stretches his mechanical arm and carries the cat in his lap, tightly holding it in both hands.
The man smiles at the sight, it’s the smile of someone who knows something but doesn’t intend to say it out loud.
“Do you remember my name?”
His voice is calm, he chants every word slowly and Vash clearly remembers hearing him speak like this all the time, it's not that he's just doing it because he's talking to a patient.
“Lieutenant Colonel Livio Double Fang,” Vash recites like he’s used to.
“Please, just call me Livio, I’m not a lieutenant anymore.”
Vash vaguely remembers hearing these words a few weeks earlier, but they resonate confusedly in his head. Suddenly the same question that tormented him, and tormented Rem and all the other nurses for days, comes to mind and Vash can not stop himself from asking Livio.
“Where’s Wolfwood?”
Vash isn’t good at reading human emotions, Major Wolfwood had tried to teach him, but he had also told him that learning to do such a thing takes time and patience. Vash knows how to observe though, and the change in Livio's gaze doesn’t escape his refined vision.
“Please, can you tell me where he is?”
It had never happened when he asked Rem, but now Vash has a distinctly unpleasant feeling coming up from his stomach and closing his throat, to the point that even if he wanted to, he couldn't ask again.
“I would tell you if I could, but we don’t know either,” Livio says after a few seconds of silence. He doesn’t lose his composure for a moment, his voice doesn’t tremble as he explains to Vash that Major Nicholas D. Wolfwood is missing since the end of the Battle of Intense. How is it possible that Vash is here and Wolfwood is missing? He doesn’t have to ask that out loud.
“He probably got you to safety and came back on the battlefield soon after,” Livio continues.
“He was hurt,” are the only words Vash can say. He was wounded, how could he get back on the field?
“Did the wounds ever stop him, Vash?”
Livio is now looking at him with a faint smile, one so weak that could disappear at any moment. Vash shakes his head in response.
“The enemy’s headquarters have collapsed,” the man continues.
“The search for the missing is even harder than usual because of the rubble, Nico isn’t the only one not to have returned. But now that the two countries have begun peace talks, they should join forces and help each other get all the soldiers’ home. Nicholas may have been recovered by the Gardarik soldiers and if so I have no doubt he’ll come back soon.”
Vash feels his chest lighten at these last words. His mind runs to the words Wolfwood uttered before the mission began, before everything went wrong. There are so many images that crowd Vash's mind, but one stands out more clearly than the others, a figure dressed in white with a gun in his hand. Vash’s gun.
“Mr. Livio,” Vash whispers and doesn’t even know how to proceed, not even knowing if Livio actually has the information to answer him.
“Yes, Vash?”
“Do you know if Nai is alive?”
This time the silence seems to be prolonged for interminable moments. Vash is totally incapable of deciphering the silvery-haired man’s expression, his metallic fingers squeak around the black fur of the cat with a tinkle.
“Unfortunately, he’s also missing, we haven’t received any news from the Gardarik’s army,” Livio finally replies, his long tapered fingers moving in agitation, in contrast to the rest of his elegant figure. There’s something weird in his voice, something Vash can not grasp; but the young man is too distracted by the thought of Nai to pay attention to it.
“What am I supposed to do now?”
Words elude him before he can control himself, more trembling than Vash would like them to be. Wolfwood is missing, ended up somewhere after the last battle, there’s no news of Nai, and even if he was alive, who knows if he'd want to talk to him or even see him. What's he supposed to do? What orders should he follow now if not those of his Major?
“You won’t need to follow my orders after this battle. In fact, you won’t have to follow anyone’s orders.”
The words echo in his mind but Vash has no idea what they mean. Was that an order to follow, too?
There’s this memory of a hand in his blonde hair, of a hug that Vash had not been able to give back, of three words whispered in his ear before being left alone in the tent to get ready for the battle.
“Vash, nobody wants you to do anything.”
Livio’s voice brings him back to the hospital room. Vash doesn’t like to be touched by strangers, but when Livio’s hand reaches out to his metal one, he doesn’t move; he lets the man take it between his as he continues to speak. Wolfwood trusted him, Vash has no reason not to trust him too.
“You’re free to do as you wish now. The war is over and you will never have to fight again.”
But fighting is the only thing he was created for, the only reason he and Nai were born. If he can't fight, why continue to exist?
“I know it may seem weird at first, trust me, I do. But that’s why I’m here, to help you until you understand what you want to do with your life.”
Livio gives him the first sincere smile since the two began to speak.
“If you want, you can come and work in my company. Well, to be fair I just started working there seriously now that I’m no longer in the army.”
Vash doesn't know how to answer. Work? And what work can a man like him do? He’s a man born to destroy, maybe he isn’t even a man. Livio seems to read his mind because his next words are decisive for Vash.
“Nico asked me to give you a job after the war, remember?.”
Oh, yes he remembers now. He and the Major even argued about it that evening, it has been their only argument in years.
“He wanted you to never set foot on a battlefield again, and if you come with me, I promise you won’t even see a battlefield from afar.”
Livio's pale fingers squeeze even more around his metallic ones. There are so many things he still doesn’t understand, so many doubts crowding his mind, and Vash only hopes to have more time in the future to sort them all out because none of the words falling from his mouth forms another question.
“If it’s an order from Major Wolfwood, then I’ll be at your service.”