notabluesbro | 37th Confession [Written/Accidental Voice a While Later]

[It's been a while since the... Well, since the draft. On the most outer part of him, Wolfwood looks like he's faired well enough—but a lot of that is just show, as it's always been. Vash went and died, Sanji's been distant, Nami's gone... The place was so tense, it was impossible to even cut through the thickness at a certain point. But then the New Feather's came trickling in, and with that comes his best performance, best attempt at making it seem like this whole thing didn't bring everything he's stepped toward crashing down over his head.

In terms of finding him...? Well, he's been volunteering to help at the Cloud Nine (has been off and on, but times have been pretty shakey, haven't they? He'll even have a drink or two before he leaves--nothing too big. It's still daylight and he's not a big drinker nowadays, even if he really, really wants to be.

He goes home, takes his turn to watch Noah. He takes the time to talk off and on, maybe write something to a question or two; usual business.]

[Written]

Welcome, welcome. Hope you guys didn't have a rough landing. Literally—how many of you fell out of the sky, got stuck in trees, the usual? I know the guide answers plenty enough, but hell, I got something else I wanted to offer.

If any of you want lessons on how to shoot a gun—how to take it apart, put it together, reload, just lemme know. Around here? We have plenty of reasons to have a gun. Especially if a bad shift hits. Or if we get assholes throwing dangerous temper tantrums at everyone else.

[When he stuffs the journal in his back pocket (it sits halfway out, like a newspaper in a paperboy bag; like he cares), he plops down beside the six-month-old baby and offers him a hand to grab It's about 30 or 40 minutes after his initial written message, and on par with the usual luck, sometime during his less guarded time with Noah the journal drops behind him on the floor—audio picks up a voice just distant enough to hear despite the muffling of the blanket.]

—geez, you really do got your mother's eyes, I swear. Lookit you, kiddo; we got pretty good genes for blending, huh? [A soft coo; he's probably wiggling fingers at the baby's face. Wolfwood's clearly gotten too used to this.] Lookit that. Hey there. Hey. You got your mama's personality, too, don't ya'?

[Noah giggles. There's a snort.]

Let's hope you got everything from her, huh...? Wolfwood's aren't known for their luck with... anything, I guess. Maybe one or two things, but they don't mean much. [A baby noise, and he let's the boy hold on strong to his fingers, off-screen.] You're strong though. In the way your mother is—not like me. And you won't ever have to worry about anyone treating you wrong while I'm around... Got it? No kid should ever have to feel like they don't belong; I know... I won't let it happen. Not again.

[A shuffle, as he picks Noah up, leans him against his shoulder. He closes his eyes. It's quiet for a long pause.]

Just... don't end up like papa. I've done too much to go back.

Just....

[...

The feed goes quiet. Answers to that won't show up for a good ten minutes.]

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[Milly holds him for a while, not quite sure what to say. She just keeps herself at his back, cheek to cheek, then gradually she raises her hand to his head and starts to lightly brush her fingers through his hair.

Finally she speaks, her voice soft and not too certain.]

Do you want me to sit with you for a while?

[She's very quiet. When Wolfwood's upset, talking is the last thing on his list, but he does nod under the comfort of her palm. Just... sitting together sounds good. He needs this. When he feels like he can actually talk, he replies quietly:] I gave up, back on the draft... I gave up and just... killed 'em all.

[They were once innocent people, and they were infected by a virus—they weren't even all the third party, created by their own accord. These people were just sick. But when Vash died... and then the others were suffering so much...

He just.

Gave up.]

Now you listen to me Nico, you did not give up, you did what you had to do to keep yourself safe. There was nothing else you could have done, I know you. If there was anything else to be done you would have done it.

[She brushes her fingers over his hair, holding him as best she can.]

Things are different now. You're a daddy, you've got a family. It changes you, no one blames you for doing what you had to do to come back home.

[He leans further into her embrace, and poor Noah is probably so confused, but hey--it must be warm, being cuddled between two bodies.] Did it really change anything about me? Maybe I can't change what I am. Not this far into everything... Maybe I just am what I am.

Stop it.

[She cups both his cheeks in her hands and forces him to look her in the eye.]

You are not the ruthless killer you keep trying to persuade yourself you are, Nico. Would you be sitting here beating yourself up like this if you were? Do you think that I'd love you as much as I do if you were somebody like that? Would I have married you and had a baby with you if you were a terrible, terrible person?

[Noah looks flummoxed and Milly will make it up to her little man later but the bigger man needs her attention more pressingly. She brushes her thumb over Wolfwood's cheek, not one taking her pale blue eyes off him.]

What do you think I see when I look at you, Nico?

[He furrows his brow, sitting quietly in her pressed palms.]

I've been asking that since the day we'd first met.

I see someone who's spent his whole life being sad and unhappy and he doesn't know what to do with himself now that he doesn't have to spend every day fighting. I see someone with a loving heart who can't see how truly good he is beneath all the layers of dirt and blood on the surface.

[She brushes her fingers through his bangs gently.]

And you're so convinced that you do bad in the world that you can't see the good that you do.

... Good that I do, huh?

[Not enough good. He helped create a beautiful little kid, and then managed to stop Vash from being an idiot a few times—still not enough in his opinion, nor will he ever be able to do enough. Regardless of how much he loves being here, loves being alive, these people are suffering in a lot of ways.

And he can't fix it.]

Yes, the good that you do.

[She looks right at him, square in the eye.]

You've saved lives, you comfort people... Nico you married a couple just a few weeks ago, that's one of the most beautiful things any person can do!

[She's looking determined now, her brows furrowed.]

You give me hope. You make me so very, very happy every moment I'm with you, every time I get to look at you in the morning with your silly bed hair and sleep in your eyes, every single time I remember that I'm a mama and it's all because of you. Look at your son and tell me if you think God would have given him to somebody who didn't deserve him.

[...and to further prove this point, Noah is going to start gumming on his father's wrist, amnamnam.]

I know it's not easy to keep having faith when bad things happen, but I believe in you. And if you can't well that's okay, I'll just have to keep enough faith for both of us.

[She leans in to kiss him softly.]

[He breathes something like a laugh behind her kiss, nearly defeated. It's easy for her to do that. Not all of his unease dissipates, but there's a difference. Something small, but it still means a lot.] ... You're a pretty good sweet talker, hon.

And you're pretty good at being too hard on yourself.

[She strokes his cheek gently.]

I wish you'd talk to me about things before they get you down like this, instead of bottling it all up and letting it get you miserable.

Ha, well... I've never been very good at talking to people.

[Probably a little too obvious, just a bit.

And of course, she's the only one who gets that entirely soft side to him—one that took a while to really latch onto.]

... I'm glad you're here, hon.

37th Confession [Written/Accidental Voice a While Later]

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