Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ After the Fall ❯ Brothers and Sisters ( Chapter 7 )

Title: After the Fall
Author: Girl.Interpreted
Betas: Alaena Night & Sugar Pill
Timeline: Post-anime (a few days after Vash returns to the girls with Knives in tow), with a manga topping
Pairings: Vash/Meryl, Millie/Wolfwood, Knives/wouldn't-you-still-like-to-know
Genre: Deep Space Planet Future Gun Action
Rating: T- for violence, language, sexual content (this chapter isn't particularly violent, foul-mouthed, or sexy-- just brilliant, thought-provoking, hilarious prose-- brought to you by your deeply humble author.)
Archive: Please contact me for permission.
Disclaimer: Trigun, its characters and universe, are the intellectual property of their respective owners. I am merely borrowing for entertainment purposes. I make no claims of ownership, nor do I profit from my storytelling.
Summary: Last Time: We learned that Vash is not quite as beautiful on the inside as he is on the outside... at least not when we're talking about his internal organs. Meryl woke up with the worst hangover ever! And she wasn't even at happy hour. Everyone feared for Vash's life, but they needn't have worried, for Vash was riding safely in the back of a pickup truck, with Knives behind the wheel and a sandstorm hot on their heels. Wait... that doesn't sound safe at all. Uh, we also learned an interesting tidbit about Meryl's potentially sordid past: our girl knows how to boost cars! But there's no power on this planet that will get her to tell you the details of that story.
A/N: Who rocks harder than a sandsteamer besieged by B. D. Neon? Why, Alaena Night and Sugar Pill, of course! But you already knew that, didn't you? Thanks to all who left offerings at the Altar of Reviews. Those babies are like an aphrodisiac, only they put me in the mood to write sweet, sweet fanfiction.
Additionally, I'm now addicted to Aine of Knockaine's “When Darkness Prevailsâ€... I think you should all go read it and harass her for updates until she caves. Oi! Aine!-- Here's my chapter. Where's yours?


Chapter 7: Brothers and Sisters


Am I awake?

Vash was 'aware', but that wasn't necessarily the same as being 'awake'. The sensory information that would confirm his status as 'awake' was missing. After all, consciousness implied that one had arms, legs, eyes. Vash couldn't feel any of these. He had no sense of a body whatsoever. He couldn't see. Couldn't hear. Couldn't taste, smell, move.

Am I even alive?

It occurred to Vash that he wasn't afraid. He waited for a sense of panic that never arrived. He was trapped without a corporeal shell, in the dark, with no sense of where he was or how he got there. And yet, he wasn't frightened.

“Hello, Vash.â€

Oh, so that's why he wasn't afraid: he wasn't alone. He could sense his sister, her presence profoundly comforting. She was keeping him calm.

“Where am I? Why can't I feel my body?†He couldn't speak the words, not even telepathically. He just, sort of, thought them, and hoped she could hear.

She laughed, or smiled. No, that wasn't right. He couldn't see her, or even hear her. Her words and reactions were simply understood. He was in a bulb. He was being healed, and couldn't feel his body because she was preventing it. The body had been in pain, and it had been necessary to separate the mind from it. He knew this, because she knew this. She didn't tell him, so much as she shared the knowledge, a million facets and undulations beneath their interaction, more and other than words could express.

“What is this?†he wondered.

“You can hear us.†Vash could tell it wasn't what she'd expected. She? Was that right? No. Them, all of his sisters. He could sense the sister with him now, as well as every plant on the planet. Like a hive, there were the thoughts of the individuals, plus the collective consciousness they shared.

“Does Knives know?†he asked.

“No. We don't know if he can't hear us, or if he's simply unwilling to listen.â€

Vash now knew that the interaction Knives had with their sisters was a mediated version. He spoke only directly with the individual in front of him. He didn't hear the chorus that lay beyond. Which meant that his twin wasn't truly understanding them. Come to think of it, Vash didn't even know if he truly understood. He had a sense that he was only scratching the surface.

“Why aren't we a part of it? Knives and I? Why didn't I ever know?â€

The answer was like a blade in his mind. Too many words at once. Too many feelings. Like trying to make out single grains of sand in a dust-storm. He couldn't make any sense of it. The assault ended as sharply as it began, like a faucet quickly turned off. “Forgive us, brother. It was too much.â€

The soothing presence of the plant was back, like a warm salve. Vash relaxed, as much as one could without any sense of having muscles to relax. He had the feeling of coming home. A flash of a memory. It had been like this with Knives, with their mother, before they'd been born. “Where's Knives? I can't feel him.â€

“He's nearby, but he doesn't want to be sensed.†She/They weren't really communicating in words, he realized. It was just that his mind wasn't capable of understanding her/their language in its pure form. The words were spoken in his voice, as if his own brain were supplying them.

“Why won't Knives speak to me?†he asked.

“He's very delicate, that brother of ours. He's very afraid. He's been checking on you constantly. We think he's going to take you out soon.â€

If Vash had had a brow to knit, he would have done so now. “I don't understand. Was he afraid I was going to die? I didn't think I'd been hurt that badly.â€

“You weren't.â€

“So, then why is he...?â€

“He is afraid of so much. But, you already knew that, little brother. Where would you have us begin? You will take care of him for us, won't you? Help him understand.â€

“Understand what?â€

“He can't kill them... we need them.â€

“What? How can I help him understand that? I don't even understand! What are you talking about?â€

That smile/laugh again. Something like a mental embrace, or a hug from a soul, or maybe a group of souls. He didn't know anymore. He didn't understand half of what they were saying/projecting, whatever you'd call this bizarre form of communication. He was going to tell her/them to wait, that he needed a better explanation, but suddenly he had a body again. And that body was falling.

His knees hit the ground hard. After being without his five primary senses, Vash found their abrupt return to be acutely overpowering. Sight, sound, smell, touch-- Funny, how he'd never noticed what the inside of his mouth tasted like.

“Breathe, Vash!†a voice that belonged to Knives ordered. That probably meant that the arms preventing him from falling on his face were Knives' too.

Vash complied with the command, and nearly broke a rib coughing out the slime that lined his throat. When he could take air evenly, Vash opened his eyes. He found his face reflected in a hauntingly similar pair. For a moment Knives looked just as he had when they were little boys. He was kneeling in front of him, holding him up by the shoulders. His face was nervous, but unguarded. It had been so long since Vash had seen his brother like that. “You okay now, Vash?â€

Vash nodded. Everything was falling back into place. “Where are we?â€

“A SEEDs ship.â€

Vash looked around the room. It was sterile looking, cold. There were several plants, control panels. He'd lived in a place like this for the first year of his life. “This is your home?â€

“It's where I live, if that's what you mean.†Knives was back to being smug and patronizing. Whatever Vash had seen in his eyes moments earlier was gone. It pissed Vash off. Knives abducts him, gives him zero information, and then acts like he doesn't have a right to ask questions?

Knives frowned, studying Vash's face. “I'm not going to talk to you if you're just going to be shirty about it.â€

“Stay out of my head, Knives!†Damn, it was annoying having to police your every thought. “You will talk to me, and I'll be as 'shirty' as I like!â€

Knives scowled. He shoved a bundle of terrycloth in Vash's direction. “Would you like a towel? Or were you planning on throwing your tantrum naked?â€

Vash snatched the towel from his fist, an expression dangerously close to a pout forming as he wiped the slime from his face. “How long was I in there?â€

Knives brought his hand to the back of his neck. It was a gesture Vash recognized, because he did it all the time, usually when he was nervous, or stalling. “Don't play with me, Knives,†Vash warned. “How long?â€

<><><><><><&g t;<><><>

A month. Twenty-nine goddamn days they'd been following every whisper and rumor, and still no trace of him. And for the past week they'd heard nothing. Big fat goose-egg. Not a word about the most notorious outlaw on Gunsmoke. A man so destructive, he'd been deemed an Act of God by the Federal Government. Hadn't anyone seen him?

Meryl blew her bangs out of her eyes with a huff. It was true that none of their previous leads had panned out. Unfortunately, Vash was so famous, or infamous rather, that there were plenty of second-rate thugs more than willing to pretend to be him. But at least, when she was on the road, tracking down clues and getting shot at, Meryl could pretend that everything was normal.

When they'd run out of information to follow up on, Millie and Wolfwood decided to follow through on their plans for his orphanage, volunteering Meryl to help. In the priest's absence the establishment had thinned out to eight residents: a handful of kids between the ages of four and thirteen, who'd been running wild since the chaplain Wolfwood had left in charge disappeared.

The reunion between Wolfwood and the orphans, especially the older ones, had been heartbreaking to witness. This gang of children, that he'd tried to save, to give a better life than what he'd had, had been left to fend for themselves once more. They greeted the priest with fists, giving way to tearful hugs, equal parts relief and outrage.

Wolfwood hadn't known, couldn't have known. He'd stayed away to keep them safe, sent any money he came across back to them. It turned out the chaplain he'd thought he could trust (hell, they'd grown up together) had taken the money and run. Millie and Meryl had both tried to convince him that it wasn't his fault, but he was resolved to blame himself. The preacher's aptitude for self-reproach was rivaled only by a certain broom-headed gunslinger. Why do Millie and I keep getting stuck with these stubborn jerks?

Despite his guilt, Meryl could tell that Wolfwood was really proud of the kids. They'd been looking out for each other, protecting each other like family. And it was a damn good thing. There was always someone willing to take advantage of a kid on his or her own. Especially, in the sort of town where the orphanage had been.

Had been. As in, past tense. The entire operation had been relocated (with the help of eleven bus tickets, thank you very much, Bernardelli) to the Thompson Homestead, fifteen iles from the heart of downtown September.

Poor Wolfwood had no idea what he'd gotten himself into. Of course, it had all been Millie's idea. Meryl was sure she'd even posed it as a 'suggestion'. Let him think he actually had a say in the matter. Meryl herself had fallen victim to Millie's particular style of passive-aggressive negotiation on numerous occasion. Not that it was a bad plan. The kids seemed to really like it on the farm, though not a single one had so much as ever lifted a shovel, let alone mucked a thomas stall. They were taking to farm-life quickly though. Nothing like being well-fed and safe. And, naturally, that made Wolfwood happy, but still...

Meryl remembered the night the trio had first arrived in September. Of course, Millie had written ahead to announce their arrival. Road-worn and starving, they'd been ushered inside by Millie's mother, Elinor, and greeted by over a dozen people of varying ages that Meryl had trouble keeping track of. Brothers, sisters, nieces, uncles, grandma... wow. And they were all enormous. A family of heroically proportioned giants. Standing in the shadow of Millie's dad, Meryl had felt as large as a toddler.

Of course, they'd heard all about her. The famous Meryl. A toast in her honor and then hugging and spinning. It seemed like everyone was talking to her at the same time, asking questions she didn't have a hope of answering before the next one was launched. It was wonderful, but it was overwhelming. Especially for a girl who'd had practically no family.

Thinking about that had made her wonder how Wolfwood was faring. He was, after all, an orphan. She hazarded a glance around the bulk of what she thought was Millie's middle big brother, and found the priest with his back against a wall. His shoulders were up around his ears, and Meryl thought that if he put his hands any deeper into his pockets, he'd be scratching his knees. He kept disappearing behind the crowd of Thompsons pushing their way past each other to make his acquaintance.

Meryl craned her neck for a better look as Millie's larger-than-life father made his way over to the priest. Wolfwood saw his approach, his unease nearly palpable as his eyes darted around for an exit, landing briefly on Meryl, as if asking for help. Of course, if he wanted assistance, Meryl thought, he'd better look for Millie. Meryl knew as much about dealing with a big family, and over-bearing parents, as he did.

If Millie's father noticed Wolfwood's discomfort, he certainly didn't show it. He walked right up to the priest and clapped him hard on the shoulder, grinning broadly. “Well, now! It's good to finally meet you. We thought you were dead, boy! Happy to see it wasn't the case. Nathaniel Thompson.†He spoke quickly, and his voice was booming, even in conversation. Outside of a few genetically altered criminals, he was the largest man Meryl had ever seen.

Wolfwood extended his hand, and Meryl hoped he got it back with all the bones in one piece, judging from the hearty shake he received. The priest tried on a smile, which did little to mask how uncomfortable he felt. “Same here. I mean, it's nice to meet you, as well. Nicholas Wolfwood.â€

Nathaniel hadn't released Wolfwood's hand right away. Instead he'd pulled the smaller man a bit closer, his expression darkening slightly as he threatened, “You best do right by my youngest, son.â€

“Daddy!†Millie yelped.

Meryl could have sworn she heard the priest gulp from across the room. “Y-yes, sir.â€

Meryl had been in awe. Did he just stutter? Wolfwood! Bad-ass, sharp-shooting, monster-slaying Wolfwood! She'd never seen him behave in a way that was other than cool and collected. Even when people were trying to kill them, he rarely lost his composure or self-assured swagger. And here he was, more skittish than a teen-aged prom date! And he called someone 'sir'! It was just bizarre. Meryl knew it was more than a little evil to laugh, but it was the funniest damned thing she'd ever seen. Oh, what I wouldn't give for Vash to see this!

Nathaniel had laughed, deep and from the belly. “You hear this kid, Ellie? 'Sir'! Man, you should have seen your face! I had you going!â€

Wolfwood chuckled nervously, his panicked eyes seeking Millie out. Nathaniel threw an arm heavily around his shoulders, barring any attempt to escape. “You hear that everyone? We're gonna have a preacher's wife in the family!â€

Meryl hadn't actually known that Wolfwood could blush. She'd certainly never seen him do it before. “Daddy, stop it!†Millie shrieked again, the color in her cheeks even deeper than her lover's.

“Just sportin' with your beau, sweetie!†The big man's face was rosy, but with laughter instead of embarrassment. Yep, Meryl thought, Millie's father was just as she'd expected. “Come on, Nicky. You kids must be starving. And I'll tell you what: my Ellie's one hell of a cook.â€

Meryl had followed the crowd to the dinner table. She'd raised an eyebrow at Wolfwood, as if to ask, “Nicky?â€

Wolfwood had quirked one right back, as if to answer, “Don't even start.â€

Meryl grinned fondly at the memory from her seat on the Thompson clan's front porch. This farm was so beautiful. Meryl had never encountered such an abundance of life before. Acres of land, heavy with ripened wheat, or green with thick grass and mosses. Cement fisheries teeming with salmon. Vegetable gardens, flowers, herbs. And, my god, the trees! It was paradise. A patch of heaven east of Eden. How had Millie ever been able to leave? Vash would adore it here.

Meryl grimaced. It would be nice if she could go ten minutes without thinking about him. The last time he'd disappeared like this, he'd been gone for two years. She just wasn't sure she could do that again. Let alone, if for some reason, if she never... Stop it! Stop it right now! You will not cry. You absolutely will not cry.

Meryl tried to distract herself, focusing on the three men walking in from the fields. Wolfwood walked between Nathaniel, and Millie's brother, Vince. They were coming in from fixing a length of fence. Wolfwood hadn't known the first thing about working a farm, but Millie's father seemed dead-set on making sure he was a quick study. The three looked like they'd been rolling in the dirt instead of digging holes for fence posts. Meryl watched as a little girl of about four bounded over to the priest, lifting her arms, a gesture universally understood by children to mean, “up.â€

She considered Wolfwood as he casually settled the child on his hip with the well-practiced ease of a man who'd performed the action many times before. He confused Meryl at times. He could be so hard, merciless even, and yet he was so very good in his own way. He'd changed since Carcasses. And for the better, Meryl decided. He no longer seemed tormented or undecided. Conflicted by his decisions or actions. He didn't wear the suit anymore. Usually, like now, it was just jeans and a t-shirt. And they weren't even black some of the time. Even under the near inch of dirt and grime that covered him, there was a purity to Wolfwood that before had been absent.

Wolfwood smiled as he whispered something in the child's ear, and she began to giggle, covering her mouth with a pudgy hand. That was different too, Meryl realized, he smiled much more readily. Again she found herself thinking of Vash. She wished he could see Wolfwood like this.

When the men reached the porch, Wolfwood handed the child off to Vince. The younger man was stiff, as if he was afraid of dropping her. Meryl thought that was funny, considering his gaggle of nieces and nephews. And she had it on good authority that Vince's fiancé wanted to try for kids just as soon as they were married. With the wedding only a few weeks away, she hoped Vince got comfortable with children in a hurry.

Nathaniel held the door for Vince and waited for Wolfwood, but the priest waved him on. He waited until Millie's father went inside, and then took a seat next to Meryl. He sighed appreciatively as he stretched his arms over his head. “This a private pity-party? Or can anyone brood?â€

Meryl laughed. “Be my guest, Nicky.â€

He groaned and rolled his eyes. “Ouch! You know, it's bad enough her whole family calls me that.â€

“Oh, shut up. You like it.â€

“I like Millie's family well enough,†he conceded. “But I do not like being called anything other than 'Wolfwood'.â€

Meryl smirked: an expression that let him know, that she knew, that he was full of it. “Millie calls you 'Nicholas', even 'Nick' sometimes.â€

“What?!†He looked deeply scandalized. “You've never heard her call me 'Nick'!â€

“Oh yes, I have!†she laughed.

“But that's different,†he reasoned. “She has diplomatic immunity.â€

“Sucker.â€< br>
Wolfwood grinned wickedly around the unlit cigarette between his teeth. “Oh, you just wait, insurance girl. When Tongari's back, you'll be teaching me what it means to make a fool of yourself, and I'll be the one laughing.â€

“What the hell are you going on about?â€

He lit the cigarette and took a long drag, carefully directing the smoke away from her. “Never mind. If you don't know, I'm not going to spell it out for you.â€

Meryl briefly considered pressing him to elaborate, but a small part of her knew she wasn't going to like where he went. Instead she settled for, “You can be a real creep sometimes, you know that?â€

“And I'm also very fond of you,†he smiled.

Meryl ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the growing strands. It was amazing what two months without a cut will do to short hair. “So, what if he's not coming back?â€

“He'll be back.†Wolfwood didn't even hesitate as he answered.

“How can you know that!?†she demanded. “You and Millie keep saying that like it's as certain as sun in August!â€

“Well, I wasn't sure at first,†he admitted. “I was leaning towards the conclusion that he was dead, to tell you the truth. But now, something in my gut just knows he's not.â€

Meryl threw her hands in the air. “That's it!? You're basing this on your gut-feeling!? That's got to be the most half-witted...â€

“And what's more,†he interrupted, “you're even more certain than I am that he's alive.â€

“Oh really?†Meryl crossed her arms, “And is this a gut-feeling as well?â€

“Nope,†Wolfwood lazily stubbed his cigarette out in an old can. “I have evidence behind this particular assertion.â€

Meryl had been ready to ask about this “evidenceâ€, when the priest reached down for her ankle without warning. She was barefoot and wearing a pair of loose, linen capris. He lifted her foot and used it to stretch her leg in front of him, nearly toppling her onto her back.

“What the hell are you doing!?†Meryl shrieked, her arms flailing for purchase as she lost her balance. “Get your hands off me!â€

“Calm down, lady. I'm just proving a point.†He pushed her pant leg up to her knee with his free hand, drawing her calf closer to his face for inspection.

“And what point is that? I already know you're the most unorthodox, sorry-excuse for a clergyman this side of New Rome!†Meryl let her leg go limp. She felt silly trying to jerk it away from him, and he was making her curious anyway.

Wolfwood ran the index finger of his free hand along her shin, from ankle to knee. He released her leg and smiled triumphantly. “Just as I thought.â€

Meryl could feel she was blushing a little, and damned the translucence of her skin. “What?â€

“No stubble,†he said, as if that explained it.

“So?â€

â€& #339;So, contrary to what you may have heard, I happen to know a thing or two about women.â€

“Really?†Meryl fixed him with a look that said she thought he knew about anything but.

“Yes. As a matter of fact, I do.†He nodded sagely. “And I know that you wouldn't be shaving your legs everyday if you didn't expect him to walk onto this porch any minute.â€

Meryl was keenly tempted to knock that stupid smile right off his face. I can't believe I was thinking nice things about him! “Wolfwood, that is the most asinine thing you have ever said!†She clenched her hands into fists, preparing to deliver a witty retort. “I shave my legs because... Not that it's any of your damn business... And how would you even...!?â€

He stood and ruffled her hair. “Whatever you say, Meryl.â€

He started walking towards the front door and Meryl turned in her seat. There was no way he was getting the last word. “I don't know what Millie sees in you, you jerk!â€

He laughed as he disappeared inside the house. “Me neither.â€

<><><><><>< ;><><><><><>

Vash tried to wrap his mind around the idea of one month. He'd never been all that good with time, his concept of it ending with the understanding that it was flying faster than he could track. In fact, there had been periods in his long life when the days and hours bled together until the difference between something that had taken place six months ago, and six years ago, seemed inconsequential. Having been so close to Millie, Meryl, and Wolfwood over the past few years, however, had done wonders to instill in him an appreciation for the preciousness of time. A month seemed awfully long.

He would have been tempted to believe that Knives was kidding. But looking at his sibling's serious glower, he realized that Knives had never been particularly funny, and now was an unlikely time for him to start playing jokes.

“A month? What did you do that for? I wasn't hurt that badly!â€

“Actually, it's only been twenty-nine days. Frankly, I thought you'd be a little more grateful.â€

“Grateful!? Are you deranged?â€

Knives snorted a laugh. “Hardly... How do you feel, anyway?â€

Vash considered this. He'd been so preoccupied, he hadn't taken stock of his condition. The moment he began to pay attention to his body, one detail seemed glaringly obvious. “Where's my arm?â€

Knives inspected the site where Vash's prosthetic was normally attached. It was a smooth, fully healed stump beneath his left deltoid. Even the metal socket that connected the prosthetic was gone. “Interesting.â€

Vash jerked his body away from where his brother was poking at him like a particularly fascinating specimen. He brought his right hand up to feel the smooth skin. “Don't talk like I'm some kind of science experiment. What did you do to me?â€

Knives flinched at the word 'experiment' and looked coldly at his twin. “I haven't done anything to you. Surely you've noticed that anything inorganic that goes into a bulb doesn't come out again? I just thought it was interesting that your arm would be absorbed as well.â€

Nothing inorganic? Vash inspected his body more closely. All of the long-familiar scars were still in place, but the hardware was gone. No bits of metal, no grate digging into the flesh of his chest. He stretched his shoulders and flexed his arm a few times. Usually, the scar tissue was tight. He didn't spend three hours doing calisthenics every morning just to keep his reflexes sharp; if he didn't stretch the scars he'd eventually lose his mobility. But everything was softer now. He could move freely and without pain. “Huh.â€

“'Huh'?& acirc;€ Knives was visibly annoyed again. “I do everything in my power to fix the damage that garbage did to you, and all I get is a 'huh'?â€

Vash ignored his brother's irascibility. “Where does everything go? It's not still in the bulb, is it?â€

“Of course not, half-wit. It's part of your body now, I imagine. Our kind transmutes whatever raw materials we're given into the desired final product. Thus, water and energy from seemingly nothing. Though, in your case, it seems you've been damaged too badly to be fully restored.â€

“Wow.†Vash pressed his palm over the place where the grate had been, as if he might be able to feel it still under the skin. “Can you do that? Can I?â€

Knives rubbed his forehead with an impatient hand. “Are you telling me that you've honestly never thought about how it is that we're capable of doing the things we can?â€

“The things we...?†Vash began uncertainly. Knives tapped his foot irritably as the cogs clicked into place in Vash's head. “The angel arms! How I was able to part the glass at the bulb in Carcasses... It's all reassignment of matter! I don't know why I never thought of it before... It all makes so much more sense now.â€

Knives appraised his sibling's awestruck face and looked to the sky as if asking for strength. “What is it you do think about, Vash?â€

“I don't know, Knives. How to keep the people I love safe? How to prevent you from destroying everything I hold dear?†He scowled at Knives and got an identical expression in response. “So how's it done? What are the limitations?â€

Knives frowned and recrossed his arms. “I don't know.â€

Vash looked back up at the bulb. His sister was in the center, hidden from view. He thought back on the knowledge that had been revealed during his time inside. “They're not doing so well.â€

“I know that, Vash.â€

“Why not?â€

“I don't know. I thought they were being drained by the populations relying on them, but even in the places where I've gotten rid of the humans, they're not recovering like I thought they would.†Knives bit his lip, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. Vash suddenly felt grateful for being allowed to see it. Knives was still cagey, to be sure, but he was slightly less defensive for a moment, and Vash softened.

“I know you think I don't care about them, Knives. But I do. I want to help our sisters, too.â€

Knives wasn't prepared to discuss the fate of their brethren. If Vash truly did care about their sisters, he had a funny way of showing it. But if Knives was truthful with himself, he had to admit that his attempts at saving them had mostly been failures. With what the plant had shown him, the compassion she'd displayed for the humans in her care, Knives wasn't sure of himself anymore. He'd been working it over and over for a month, and still he couldn't see a solution, an explanation.

Vash was looking at him expectantly, openly. Knives hated that look. He changed the subject. “So you're feeling better then?â€

Vash had to laugh. Was he feeling better? His body hadn't felt this good in years. It was amazing how one could learn to ignore pain when it was constant. The removal of the bolts, pins, and other bits of metal made him feel like a boulder had been lifted from his shoulders. “Yeah. I feel great, actually.†He smiled, but Knives was refusing to make eye-contact. “Why'd you do it?â€

“What do you mean?â€

“I thought you wanted me to suffer.†Vash's voice was soft, free from any sort of accusation. He was more curious than anything.

Knives sighed, and bounced on the balls of his feet as if he were fighting to stand still. His eyes looked everywhere but at Vash. “I never wanted you to suffer. I just wanted you to understand.†He swallowed hard. “It made me sick to see what you let them do to you. I hated you for it.â€

“You hate me still?†Vash gazed steadily at his twin, even though he still wouldn't look at him.

“No.â€

†œWhat then?â€

“I don't know.â€

“Well, what the hell do you plan to do now, Knives? Great. You patched me up. We going to go back to the way it was? I can't let you hurt any more people.â€

“Just, shut up and listen to me!†Knives finally turned his eyes on Vash, the blue of them so cold that they almost glowed purple. “It's not working, Vash! Everything I planned, everything I've worked for! There's no point in going on like this anymore. Your idiocy is inherent. I'm never going to get to you the way I've been trying, and there's no point if I can't save you!â€

Vash was shocked. He had to close his mouth where his jaw had been hanging open. When he did, he formed a careful smile. “That's funny, I feel the same way about you.â€

Knives wasn't smiling. He looked like he was about to crawl out of his skin. Quietly, and with difficulty, he said, “I'm going to give you two years.â€

Vash drew his eyebrows together. “I'm sorry, what?â€

Knives' frown deepened. “I will give you two years. I'll play by your rules. I'll do what you say. And then you have to do the same for me.â€

Was Knives offering what he thought he was? A truce? A chance for Vash to convince him that humanity was worth saving? “Don't be stupid, Vash.†Knives' voice cut though his thoughts. Vash was going to have to be more vigilant to prevent his brother's telepathic eavesdropping. “You don't honestly think you're going to convince me of that. I've just decided, that for the time being, I want you alive more than I want them dead. Anyway, I'm not getting anywhere having to redirect my energy towards chasing you all the time.â€

Vash thought very carefully about Knives' offer. It was true that for the past century neither of them had gotten much accomplished aside from canceling each other out. If Knives was working with him, Vash would be able to put all his half-formed plans for this planet into action. But by the end of his turn, he'd have to bring Knives around to his way of thinking. Otherwise, it would be Knives' turn at being in charge, and Vash doubted a single human being would survive that reign of terror. “I need ten years.â€

Knives laughed. “Not a chance. Three.â€

Vash grinned. “Five.â€

Knives chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment before nodding slowly. “Agreeable. But I get the same afterwards.â€

“Deal. But I want your word that you will not directly or indirectly, through action or thought, bring harm to a human being. And I get to define what 'harm' means.â€

“Very thorough disclaimer, brother.†A shadow of a smile quirked at the corner of Knives' mouth. “I will give you my word, that for the next five years I will not hurt a human, unless said human threatens me or mine.â€

Vash quickly shook his head. “That's not good enough, Knives.â€

“Well, it's the best you're going to get! Take it or leave it. Or would you rather I gave you back your gun and we can spend the next century or two chasing each other around the desert?â€

Vash knew he wasn't going to get a better offer. He'd just have to make sure no one gave Knives a reason to hurt them. “No. That will have to do.†Vash ran his hand over his damp, stiffening hair. This was a huge change for Knives, and he didn't dare ask what had brought it on, lest his brother suddenly decide to change his mind, but he had to know, “Are you sure about this, Knives? Can I trust you?â€

Knives spoke slowly and carefully. “I've been alone while you healed for twenty-nine days, Vash. I've had a lot of time to think. You have my word. I won't betray our agreement.â€

Knives let that empathic channel between the brothers slip open a bit. Vash suspected it was so he could feel that Knives wasn't lying, but Vash sensed something more. Knives' emotions were unnerved and conflicted, treading over unfamiliar ground. But he was earnest, beyond the anger he always felt, seemingly at everyone and everything around him, was a threadbare desire to try.

The tears welled instantly in Vash's eyes, followed by the knee-jerk impulse to wrap the one arm he had around his brother's back. Knives instantly stiffened in the embrace, but didn't pull away. “You're pushing it, Vash. This is unseemly.â€

Vash ignored his twin's protest, tightening his grip. He wiped his eyes on Knives' shoulder, never really caring for decorum. “I've really missed you, Knives.â€

Knives awkwardly patted his brother's shoulder, his other arm still hanging tensely at his side. After everything he'd done, all of the pain he'd inflicted, how could Vash hug him so spontaneously and openly? Didn't he harbor any hatred? Wasn't he afraid? He could feel Vash's tears soaking through his shirt, a slight tremor in the arm around his back. It made Knives unspeakably uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. “Okay. Let go of me now.â€

Vash pulled away, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. Knives rolled his eyes and carefully readjusted his shirt, frowning at the wet marks Vash's tears had left on the shoulder. With deep sarcasm, he asked, “So, what now, fearless leader?â€

“Well,†Vash blinked thoughtfully, “I'd like some pants. Pants would be good.â€

“I saved all of your clothes before I put you in the bulb. You've got pants. Even a shirt.†Knives impatiently replied.

“Really? Would have been nice if you'd set my arm aside,†Vash grumbled.

Knives shrugged, but made no attempt to defend himself.

“I suppose,†Vash continued, “we'll go to New Oregon. I need a new arm, and I think it would be the best place for us to set up.â€

Knives looked uneasy. “Aren't there a lot of people in New Oregon?â€

“Well, yeah. Some.â€

“Can't we just stay here?â€

“What? No! I thought I was in charge! I want you to spend some time around people, Knives. People you've promised not to hurt.â€

“I hate your plan already.†Knives angrily chewed at his thumbnail. Vash couldn't remember ever seeing him so discomposed. “They'll kill me the first chance they get for what I've done. And you too, for bringing me.â€

“They don't know what you've done,†Vash soothed. “And I know them. They're good, honest, caring people. And you're going to give them a chance to prove it to you.â€

“What about your pet? And the tall one? And the priest?â€

“As soon as I've got you set up in New Oregon, I'm going to find them.†Honestly, Vash wanted to go and find them now. But he wasn't about to take Knives with him. He wouldn't force any of them, especially Meryl, to be in his brother's presence again.

“Give her up, Vash. I don't want her near you.â€

Vash didn't even have to ask who Knives was talking about. “Why?â€

“Because ,†Knives fumbled for a plausible reason, “because you're stupid around her!â€

“I disagree. I think I'm more myself around her.â€

Knives appraised the, somewhat day-dreamy, little smile on Vash's face with open disgust. “I'm going to be ill.â€

“She understands me, Knives.â€

Knives had been about to say that he did too, that no one could hope to understand Vash better than he did, but he realized that was a lie. Hadn't he been thinking about that everyday for the past month? Vash's pet had been right: Knives didn't understand his brother at all. He thought about the look in her eyes before she'd passed out, the tenor of the little voice that spoke in his head, asking him not to hurt Vash.

Knives really didn't want to see the diminutive creature ever again. And if he was going to prevent it, obviously, he needed a new approach. Vash thought he was noble, right? Knives tried again, “It's selfish. If nothing else, it's not fair to her.â€

Vash wasn't fooled. “Don't even pretend to be concerned about her.â€

“I'm concerned for you, moron. She doesn't know what she's getting herself into, and she'll tear you apart.â€

Vash smiled, barely a turn of his lips. “Yeah, you might be right. But you know what? I don't care. Isn't that strange?â€

“No,†Knives scoffed. “It's idiotic. But I suppose I shouldn't expect any less from a childish, dull-minded, haphazard, waste of...â€

“Come on, Knives. I want to get going,†Vash said, securing the knot in the towel around his waist (as best he could with one hand) as he stepped away from his brother. “Is there satellite access here? 'Cause I wanna send word ahead to the Doc.â€

“I don't want to do this, Vash!†Knives' eyes were wide and a little panicked. “You're not leaving me alone in a human cesspool! I won't do it! I refuse!â€

“You can't refuse. You gave me your word, remember?†He offered Knives a gentle smile. “Aw, don't worry so much. You'll be fine. I promise.â€

Knives looked less than convinced. His scowl deepened as he clenched and unclenched his fists. “I'm beginning to regret my decision.â€

Vash's smile widened. “Don't say that. Trust me, Knives. It's the best decision you've ever made.â€