Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ After the Fall ❯ The Persistence of Memory ( Chapter 8 )

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/I-don't-even-know
Genre: Deep Space Planet Future Gun Action
Rating: T- for violence, language, sexual content (gruesome dream sequences, foul-mouthed boys, and an inappropriate priest)
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. Also, “The Persistence of Memory†is a painting by Dali. And, "Kaze wa Mirai ni Fuku" is by AKIMA & NEOS

Summary: Last Time: Like some morbid nature show about the mating habits of the wolverine, we witnessed as the elusive 'wolfwood' was awkwardly introduced into a domestic environment. Although removed from his natural habitat, the priest does seem to be adapting pretty quickly. And of course, Meryl is always around if he needs to have a laugh at her expense. Aww! He does it out of love, you know. Meanwhile, back at the lab of Dr. Strange, Vash found out that he'd been a plant bulb for a whole month. Knives made a strategic decision to ally himself with Vash. Now all he has to do is make it through the next five years, and then, with his brother by his side, world domination will be at hand! I mean, what's five measly years when you're a plant, right?... right? Um, I think Knives might've gotten himself in over his head.

A/N: This chapter is so freaking long... it makes my brain hurt. It's over nine-thousand words. Isn't that sick? My betas have been super busy, but still managed to help me get through this awful thing. If you don't like it, I don't even want to hear about it! No, no... just kidding. All comments are welcomed, encouraged, sought, desired, lusted after. Thank you, reviewers. Your entrance to Paradise is assured.

Chapter 8: The Persistence of Memory


The hum of machinery, and the muffled observations of men, were sharply and morbidly contrasted by the only other sound in the room: the resounding pitch of a child crying. Wailing, frightened gasps of sobs, punctuated by painful shrieks.

“Please! Please stop! It hurts! It...!â€

His pleas were cut off by another scream as something sharp twisted in his side. He could feel his flesh turn around something cold and metallic.

The figures around him didn't respond to his cries. Men of various heights and builds, all dressed alike in white clothing. The light in his eyes was too bright for him to make out their features. The face of one of the scientists appeared, a surgical mask over his mouth and nose, hovering between him and the overhead light. He wore glasses, and when they caught the light, Knives could see his own reflection. It was the round face of a little boy, platinum hair matted and greasy. His wide, blue eyes had purple shadows beneath them. His skin held an ashen cast. The scientist turned his head, and Knives could see his naked chest reflected as the man carved a Y-shaped incision, the blood beading and beginning to flow along the line the scalpel drew.

Knives screamed, full-throated and terrified. His arms fought against the straps restraining them, but he was just a little boy. What could he do? He turned his head to the side, desperately searching the room for help.

“Vash! Rem!â€

They were standing a few feel away. Talking to each other and smiling. He couldn't hear what they were saying, and they didn't seem to notice him.

“Rem! Help me, Rem!â€

He had to blink rapidly to clear the tears, but his vision was still blurry. Why didn't she hear him? Why was she letting this happen? Something was wrong.

Knives focused his attention on Vash. Captured by the logic of the dream, it didn't seem odd that Vash was a full-grown man, while Knives himself was only a child. He was dressed in his red jacket, holding something in his hand. An apple. But the fruit was too red. It all but glowed crimson as he brought it to his mouth. He took a bite, and finally his eyes landed on Knives.

“Vash!†Knives sobbed. “Help me! Make them stop!â€

Vash grinned unpleasantly. He chewed the apple as he walked slowly towards Knives, the muscles in his legs and shoulders rolling, the motion reminding Knives of the predatory stalk of a cat. His eyes held a malicious intent that Knives had never seen there before. “Don't lie to your brother,†Vash chided.

“W-what...?â€

Kniv es was in pain. The most terrible and visceral pain he could imagine, but the most prominent feeling in his body at that moment was terror. The sudden, icy knowledge that Vash wanted to hurt him was freezing the blood in his veins.

“Didn't you want me to suffer, Knives?â€

“No! No, Vash, I never...â€

“Liar.†Vash's grin widened to display the threat of teeth. “'Eternal suffering to Vash the Stampede.' Isn't that right, brother? Isn't that what you told them?â€

Knives could barely speak through his hiccuping sobs. “No! I swear... I didn't want...!â€

“So, tell me now...†Vash leaned closer. His gaze trailed down Knives' body, observing the damage with a nearly obscene smile and a glint of maniacal satisfaction in his eyes, his voice a dark threat in his throat. “...How does it feel?â€

Knives didn't answer, too terrified to even breathe. With a sadistic half-grin that split his face like a knife, Vash closed his eyes, his chin tilting downward. Knives watched in horror as blood flowed over his forehead, covering Vash's features in a nearly black, syrupy spill. His eyes shot open, looking up beneath darkened brows. Knives struggled again to free himself, to get away from the eyes that glowed with neon intensity from under all that blood and darkness. Vash's eyes changed, the aqua swirling and deepening to the coldest and richest of blues. Those weren't Vash's eyes; they were his own.

Knives blinked and found he was off the operating table. He'd switched places with Vash's menacing figure and was looking down from inside his adult body. He could feel the viciousness etched in his features. Could feel how terrifying his gaze was, and the heat and slickness of blood on his face.

He looked at the table where the scientists were dissecting their specimen. A little boy. With large, aqua eyes and spiky golden blond hair. Vash. They pulled the flaps of flesh away from the incision in the boy's chest. Knives could see his ribs, the heart fluttering frantically beneath. He watched it happen and didn't move. Knives turned to the apple in his hand, the edges of the bite mark were bleeding, dripping to the floor. The sour after-taste of the fruit was still on his tongue.

“Knives?†Vash asked, and Knives' eyes darted to the child's face. It occurred to Knives that Vash should be afraid. Why then, did he only look so terribly sad?

Vash stared into Knives's face, wincing only slightly as one of the scientist's gloved hands disappeared inside his abdomen. His small voice was like a bell, a despondent ring of betrayal. “Why?â€

Knives woke, clamping a hand over his mouth to stifle any small sound that might try to escape.

“HOHO---- WO NADERU KUUKI TO NEKOROBU KUSA GA AREBA!!!!â€

He turned in his seat to find his brother singing along (loudly) with the satellite. The idiot was smiling stupidly, his head bobbing around to the rhythm of the song, while his fingers tapped out the drum-line on the steering wheel.

Just a dream. It was just a stupid dream. Knives took a deep breath and blew it out hard. He hadn't had dreams of any sort since he was very young, but in the past month he'd found himself reintroduced to the particular joys of vivid nightmares. It seemed like every time he woke up lately he was soaked with sweat, his heart beating in his ears. Well, at least with Vash singing at the top of his lungs, he hadn't noticed. The last thing Knives wanted was to have to explain why he'd woken up gasping like a little girl.

“HOKA NI NANIMO IRANAI MICHITARITA EGAO DE!!!!!!!â€

Err! Knives winced at the volume of Vash's singing. He began to unbutton his duster, feeling the clothing underneath sticking to his skin.

“Hey-ya, Knives! You okay?†Vash turned the volume down slightly so he could speak over the music.

“Fine,†Knives spat, with none of the friendliness displayed by his twin. “It's just hot. And you woke me up with your awful singing.â€

Vash smiled, seemingly amused by his brother's crankiness. “Really? You know, I've been told I have a very nice singing voice. In fact, I won the Providence City Seventh Annual Karaoke Showdown back in 072... or maybe it was 073...â€

“Fascinating,†; Knives dead-panned. Free of his jacket, the air felt wonderful over his damp skin and clothes. He wished it would carry away the sinking feeling the nightmare had left him with, along with the heat and sweat.

“Hey, Knives?†Vash asked softly.

Knives stared out into the desert as it whipped past them, facing away from where Vash sat. He tried to push the images from the nightmare out of his mind, but they kept playing on a loop. What the hell was that about?

“Um, Knives?†Vash tried again.

“What?†Knives continued to look out the passenger side window. He tried to replace the invasive imagery of the dream with something more pleasant, but found he didn't have much to draw on.

“Do you remember when we were real little, and you used to have those night terrors?â€

Damn. So Vash had noticed, Knives realized. He had probably been singing that loudly in an attempt to wake Knives up. “No,†he lied, “not ringing any bells.â€

“You used to wake me up; you'd be screaming in your sleep. And we'd go stay in Rem's room.†Knives didn't turn his head, but he could feel Vash looking at him. “I didn't realize you still had nightmares.â€

“I don't,†Knives bit out.

Knives didn't usually lie to Vash. He never felt the need. Knives might have been a ruthless, methodical killer, but he was an honest, ruthless, methodical killer. It had, however, been a very long time since Knives had felt any sort of vulnerability. He was still shaken from the dream, much as he loathed to admit it, and he really wasn't in the mood to take a walk down memory lane with Vash. But he did remember.

He had been six months old, maybe three years to the human eye. For some reason, he began to have the most terrible dreams. Faceless monsters trying to hurt him, hurting Vash and Rem. He couldn't move, screams of warning caught in his throat. When he did scream, it broke into the waking world, and he would find himself sobbing in his brother's arms, grateful that Vash was alive and unharmed. Vash would lead him by the hand to Rem's room and she would pull back the covers. Her bed was always warm. She smelled of soap and safety, holding him against her as she drifted back to sleep. Vash would get in on the other side, sometimes holding Knives' hand to comfort him, his breath sweet and warm on his face.

What was this? Knives hadn't even remembered that, let alone thought about it, for over a hundred years. It elicited an emotion he refused to name, choosing instead to brush it away. That was before I knew any better. Before I was strong. But how strong was he now, if his own mind betrayed him in sleep?

It had to be that nonsense with Vash's pet. The sight of a superior being begging for the life of a mortal, he reasoned, was disturbing enough to give anyone nightmares. And then there was the human's reaction. Having been inside the girl's mind, he couldn't deny her sincerity. She'd wanted to save Vash's life, even at the expense of her own. It was so maddeningly irrational! He'd only ever come across one other human who'd displayed the same altruism: Rem. Maybe that's why he was dreaming of her now.

He should have just killed the creature when he'd had the chance. He'd won, had his hand around her throat. It would have been so easy to be rid of her, and then...

And then Vash would be a hollow shell and he'd truly lose him forever.

Fuck. Why did he care so much? Certainly, Vash was better off dead, rather than be a slave to his delusions about humanity. After Knives had tucked Vash away in the bulb, he'd gone through his things. He'd found his black colt at the bottom of the duffel, along with some of Vash's extra clothing, hair gel, toothbrush, letters post-marked from New Oregon, and...

A photograph.

Knives had unfolded a carefully wrapped scrap of fabric to reveal a Polaroid. He'd simply stared, a wall of memory toppling over his mind. Rem had shown them the device: a camera. She'd explained that it could capture a person's face, so that one could look back at it and always remember. Knives had thought it was stupid; he never forgot anything, but Vash had been eager and excited. Rem had held the camera to her face, looking at her boys through the lens.

“Smile now!†she'd said.

Suddenly, Knives had been nervous, not sure what having his 'picture taken' would be like. As always, Vash had sensed his apprehension, and before the shutter snapped, he'd taken Knives' hand and tucked his brother's body just slightly behind his own.

“Don't worry, Knives,†Vash's voice had soothed in his mind. “Smile!â€

And Knives had smiled, knowing that Vash and Rem were with him, and nothing could ever change that.

Shaking himself from the grip of the memory, Knives had torn the photograph in half, and then in half again. Again and again, until it was nothing more than little squares of paper and celluloid.

Why had Vash kept it? Their lives weren't like that anymore, and they would never be like that again. What was the point of remembering? No wonder Knives was having these stupid dreams.

He thought back to what the Vash of his nightmare had said: “Eternal suffering to Vash the Stampede.†Was that right? Is that what he'd really wanted? It had been what he'd asked for, what he'd commanded. He'd always rationalized that it was the only way to make Vash understand, and that the means would be justified by the end. But the nightmare version of Vash had been right: When he'd told Vash that he'd never really wanted him to suffer, it had been a lie. Knives had been furious at Vash. Hated him for leaving, for sympathizing with the trash of this planet, even as they betrayed and abused him. How dare he? And how dare he raise his hand against his own brother in their defense? Knives had truly wanted him to suffer, had wanted revenge. And every tear that Vash had shed, every ache in his bleeding-heart, was a victory Knives had reveled in. And finally, when Knives had forced his hand, compelled him to kill, Vash's anguish had been so acute that Knives couldn't help but be aware of it. And, dear God, had it felt good.

Knives turned to look at his brother, who'd focused his attention back on the make-shift road before them. He was humming along with the (much quieter) satellite broadcast. He noticed Knives move in his periphery, and turned to offer him a docile smile. “You sure you're okay?â€

He remembered himself in the dream, watching as Vash was dissected. Doing nothing to stop it. A part of him had even felt satisfied by the sight of it. Thinking about it, and seeing the gentle concern in Vash now, Knives felt the stab of an emotion which might have been regret, maybe even shame.

“Knives?â€

He turned his head away again, unable to look at his twin's face any longer. “Piss off, Vash. I told you I was fine.â€

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

“Hi, Angelina! How's it going today?â€

The young woman was nearly startled out of her skin by the intern's enthusiastic greeting. The pipette she was holding fumbled from her hand and shattered on the ground.

“Whoops! Sorry,†the man sheepishly offered as he stooped to help her clean the mess.

“Leave it, Dewey,†she said, as she shooed his hands away. She fixed him with an irritated glare. “I thought I told you not to call me by my first name?â€

“Oh yeah, um, sorry again, Dr. Fray.â€

There had been a time when she had found his goofiness endearing. And his classically handsome features, and runner's body, hadn't hurt. But she had to work with him, and by her own rule book, that meant 'hands off.' And lust, like so many of life's most enjoyable pleasures, came with an expiration date. Dewey was fast becoming as appealing as two week old bread.

Angelina rolled her eyes and turned to look at her now ruined experiment. She'd have to start all over. Dewey was still standing there, smiling idiotically, with a look of open adoration on his face. She was about to tell him to go find something useful to do (if he was even capable of something useful) when a tall woman came to both of their rescues.

“Shoo, Spot. Isn't there something you should be doing?â€

“Yes, Dr. Reynolds, I mean, Miss Elisabeth. Sorry.†He blushed softly and made a hasty retreat back towards his department.

“Jeez!†Angelina groused. “Sometimes I don't think he'll ever take the hint.â€

“He just has a crush on you, Lina,†Elisabeth laughed. “Would it really be so bad to go out with him once?â€

"Are you kidding? That guy has 'commitment' written all over him. One date, and he'll have us practically betrothed. Definitely too much of a hassle to be worth it,†Lina complained. “Anyway, thanks. I owe you one for saving me... again.â€

Three years earlier, when Lina had first met Elisabeth, she'd been five months pregnant and the categorical definition of 'desperate'. It was quite a turnaround from who she'd been nearly a year before that, when Ericks had been living with her, and Grandma was still alive. The residents of Kasted City had been fond of her. She was the spunky little girl with the big smile. But thanks to the wide-held belief that she and her grandmother had knowingly harbored Vash the Stampede, their hospitality and affection was swiftly waning. On top of that, puberty hit Lina hard, and it became apparent to every man in town that she'd been lying about her age. In fact, she was closer to fifteen than thirteen years she claimed.

Grandma Sheryl took ill, and with her death, Lina's situation became desperate. She had no way out of Kasted City, and she couldn't bring herself to use the emergency contact information Ericks had left. Surely, he had more important things to do than play damsel-in-distress with her. Who was she to him anyway? The more Lina thought about it, the more she was convinced that she and her grandmother had been a convenient and lovely fantasy. His life with them had been a temporary escape from reality. There was no way he'd want to hear from her again.

Lina struggled, fighting off the aggressions of men who at one time in her life had been like kindly uncles or older brothers. But she was no longer the sweet little girl they'd known. She was a woman, and a liar, and a tease. Eventually, Lina had given herself to a local tough-guy, in exchange for protection. She'd tried to console herself with the fact that she'd had no other option. Besides, she'd told herself, it wasn't like she was a virgin. She'd stared over his shoulder at the ceiling, her face blank, and was vaguely aware that this time, it hardly even hurt.

The 'arrangement' resulted in a pregnancy, which Lina became aware of only after the father was gunned down in a robbery attempt. Lina had reasoned that his death might have been for the best. He'd turned out to be a bigger bastard than she'd expected. He had been mean, and he hit. But the fact had remained: Lina was left to fend for herself once more. And this time she didn't just have herself to worry about.

In the early stages of her pregnancy, Lina had been tempted to drink herself into oblivion, waking only when the seed in her womb had ceased to grow. But with a full bottle of tequila ready in her hand, Lina had been overwhelmed with the bitter knowledge that it just wasn't who she was. As shitty as the simple act of existing had become, Lina's nature dictated that she was just too stubborn to give up. She'd poured the liquor out in the sand, almost like some sort of an offering. Dear God, she'd pleaded, I could really use some help.

It was exactly three months later that the miracle occurred: the plant broke down.

Now in most circles of thought, the breakdown of a plant would hardly be considered miraculous. More like, disastrous, actually. But this particular breakdown brought the Marius Bresken Kantacle Technical Industrial Union, and their chief engineer: Doctor Elisabeth Reynolds.

Lina had begged the union for a job, even a temporary one. Certainly someone needed coffee fetched, or some other menial task? Lina would take anything. Dr. Reynolds, who preferred to be called 'Miss Elisabeth', had sympathized with the young woman. Despite some of the more womanly curves she'd developed, and the prominent swell of her abdomen, Lina still had the face and stature of a girl much younger than her years. Elisabeth knew what it was like to have no one in the world but yourself. She'd insisted that Lina become her new personal assistant.

For her part, Lina was baffled by the woman. First, there was her clothing. How could something be so revealing and seductive, while being stiff and proper at the same time? Men drooled over her, but she was the consummate lady. Never a hair out of place, never a crack in her makeup. She was leather and lace. A deceptively delicate looking flower with a stem full of patient thorns. She was polite and pleasant, but when she saw something she wanted, she took it without apology.

Elisabeth's interest in the young woman had gone deeper than simple compassion. She had suspected that there was more to Lina than met the eye. There was a determination to the set of her jaw, and a fierceness in her gaze, that told Elisabeth she had survived something terrible, something that a lesser person might have buckled under. Elisabeth recognized it because it was an attribute she herself possessed.

Tentatively, she began to introduce Lina to the concepts of plant maintenance, and the theories and science behind them. Her suspicions that Lina was special were confirmed. The girl had a photographic memory, reached complex conclusions, and understood abstract concepts before they'd even been explained to her. Who would have thought that Elisabeth would discover a certifiable genius in a back-desert town like Kasted City?

It wasn't particularly surprising that no one, including Lina, had realized her potential. Life in the Outer was about guns and survival, not books and science. Lina had even been confused. “Isn't everyone like this?†she'd asked, then scoffed, “It's really not all that hard.â€

Elisabeth had taken Lina to see the Professor in December City. It was there that she'd given birth to a baby girl. Lina had named her 'Chance', a reminder that life had a way of creating purity and beauty from even the most sordid and dire of circumstances. The Professor had an apartment set up for the young mother, which was paid for by the union, along with the costs of Lina's education.

With the help of both the Professor and Elisabeth, Lina had flown through her studies and had become the youngest person in the history of Gunsmoke to receive a doctorate. Then, for good measure, she went and got another one. Doctor Angelina Fray was now one of the most prominent, living experts in plant biology. All at the tender age of eighteen.

Of course, the assimilation of motherhood, and the study of molecular biology and biochemistry, had done little to soften or refine her indelicate disposition. She went through men like Kleenex, swore and drank like a seasoned desperado, and just last week had been involved in a bar fight that had required the intervention of the Federal Calvary.

Elisabeth absolutely adored her.

“You know, I didn't come over here just to rescue you from your latest would-be paramour,†Elisabeth scolded fondly, “The Professor would like a word with you.â€

“Aww, man! What's that old coot want now?†Lina complained, though Elisabeth knew her insult was in jest. “The incident in the elemental acceleration booth was so not my fault.â€

“Relax, will you?†Elizabeth laughed as she started down the hall toward the Professor's office. “You're not in trouble... for once. But there's something important we both need to talk to you about.â€

“Oh, yeah?†Lina said, as she jogged a few steps to keep up with the taller woman's strides.

“We've been...†Elisabeth hesitated, her hand poised on the Professor's door, “...we've kept certain aspects of our research secret from you, Lina. But we've both decided it's time you were on the inside.â€

Lina didn't have the opportunity to question her further, as the door opened and they found themselves in front of the Professor's desk.

The 'Professor', as everyone called him was pretty spry for an old man. Lina knew he was in his sixties, but he didn't look any older than forty-five. A life spent in close proximity to plants would do that to a person, though the reasons were unknown. In fact, it was the subject of her most recent research.

“Hello, Angelina. Have a seat won't you?†He smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. He was a handsome man, and if he hadn't been married to his work, he would've had no trouble finding a wife. Lina had heard rumors that he'd been married once before, but she'd never felt it was appropriate to ask. The Professor was quite private regarding his personal life.

“Good morning, Sensei,†she greeted as she took a seat in one of the two leather chairs in front of his desk. Elisabeth gracefully settled herself in the other.

“Angelina, I'd like you to take a look at these.†He pushed a folder across the desk and Lina opened it. She willed her expression to remain blank as she looked at the series of photographs. “Do you recognize that man?â€

Lina looked up at him curiously. “Yeah, of course. That's Vash the Stampede. Why?â€

The Professor seemed to be gauging her reactions carefully. She felt suddenly uneasy beneath his gaze. “When Elisabeth found you in Kasted City, there was talk that the Humanoid Typhoon had been living with you and your grandmother for a time. Is that the same man?â€

“No, Sensei,†Lina lied. Elisabeth and the Professor had become her family, but Ericks still held a firm grip on her loyalties. Intuition told her to keep his identity secret. Even from Lizzie and her Sensei.

“I see,†he replied. Lina couldn't be sure if he believed her, but it seemed he wasn't going to press her further. “So, why don't you tell me what you know about the man pictured there?â€

“Well,†she hesitated, turning to Elisabeth, who nodded her encouragement, “well, he's the most notorious outlaw on the planet. He had a sixty billion double-dollar prize on his head until the Feds dubbed him an Act of God and rescinded the bounty. Allegedly, he's responsible for the destruction of July and Augusta, as well as the crater in the Fifth Moon.â€

“Allegedly?†the Professor questioned. “You don't sound like you believe it.â€

“Of course I don't believe it,†Lina scoffed. “It's ridiculous. There's no way one man was responsible for that kind of destruction. And besides, look at that guy! He's can't be out of his twenties. What, did he blow up July as a toddler? I think it's much more likely that plant malfunction was responsible for July and Augusta. I mean, we even have records of an incredible spike in the local plants' energy levels right before each incident.â€

“Yes, that's quite logical,†he noted, “but what if I told you both theories were correct in their own way?â€

Lina blinked and looked over at Elisabeth again, who merely sat patiently, an impassive expression on her face. “I'm sorry, Sensei. I don't think I follow you.â€

“Those disasters were, in fact, caused by Vash the Stampede.â€

“But, how is that possible?â€

“Because, dear girl,†the Professor explained, “Vash the Stampede is a plant.â€

Lina's jaw actually dropped. Were they joking?

“It's true, Lina,†Elisabeth finally spoke up. “I was at July, remember? I saw the Destroyer with my own eyes when I was a little girl. Twenty years later I crossed paths with him again, and he hadn't aged a day.â€

“But...†Lina's head was spinning. If this is true, and Vash the Stampede is a plant, and Ericks is Vash the Stampede, then... then... wait... Lizzie knows Ericks? She shook her head to try to knock her train of thought into some kind of logical order. One thing was certain: she was done playing this game. She wanted answers, and she wanted them now. “He can't be a plant. For one thing, plants can't live outside of a bulb. And for another, they're all female!â€

“Think of it, Angelina,†the Professor leaned across his desk, his excitement showing for the first time in their conversation, “an autonomous plant. Free to walk around as it pleases, to live among us in secret. And what's more... there are two.â€

“Huh?†Granted it wasn't the most articulate of responses, but it was the best she could come up with, given the circumstances.

“He has a brother,†Elisabeth supplied, “a plant known as Millions Knives.â€

“How... how could you possibly know this?â€

“I once had a Sensei, too,†the Professor explained, “a man whose life had been extended by cold sleep and plant technology. He was one of the premier scientists of Project SEEDs, actually crash landing on this planet with our ancestors. His name was Doctor William Conrad. He came to me when I was an engineer at a single plant settlement. I had been doing some research that he found interesting, and he asked me for a meeting. He confided in me that he felt his life was growing short, that he'd been forced into alliance with the one called 'Knives', and that it was only a matter of time before the plant ended his life. Before he was killed, he shared what he knew, and entrusted me with the protection of humanity.â€

“This is... this is unbelievable! It's... I don't know what to say...â€

The Professor came around his desk and kneeled in front of Lina, taking her hands in his own. “I know it's a lot to take in, Angelina. I'm sorry to have kept this from you. You must know how dear you've become to me, you and Chance both. I would never want to cause you undo worry, or put you in danger. But, you've got to understand what we're up against here: There are two autonomous plants that can, and will, destroy this planet and every living person on it. Besides the three of us in this room, there are only a handful of people who've any idea of the danger we're in. It's a huge responsibility, and I am deeply sorry to burden you with it, but if we're going to save our race, I'm going to need your help.â€

Lina blinked, freeing tears that rolled to her chin. Was this all true? Her Sensei had given her every reason to trust him completely, had taken care of her and her daughter when the world had tossed them aside. He and Elisabeth had been there for her, not just professionally, but like family. She knew she wouldn't have been able to get through her studies, and the terrible-twos, if it wasn't for their help. Lina turned to look at Elisabeth. She was leaning forward, concern mixing with the tears in her emerald eyes. Neither would lie to her, but... oh, Ericks... Did I ever know you at all?

“Okay,†Lina said, wiping at her eyes, “what do you need me to do?â€

The Professor smiled briefly, before his expression became serious once more. “The time has come, Angelina, to strike back.â€

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

Wolfwood surveyed the Thompsons' grand room from his comfortable position on Nathaniel's favorite chair. A 'grand room', as it turned out, was just a fancy name for a living room, kitchen, and dining room with an open layout. Therefore, even from the overstuffed armchair, which threatened to swallow him with its size and plushness, Wolfwood could watch the traffic in all three.

The majority of the family was out of the house. Millie's middle big sister, Margaret, had taken the orphans on a field trip of sorts, something about bird-watching. Some of the older boys had taken a real shine to Margaret, and they'd made it clear to the preacher that his chaperoning was neither required, nor desired.

Nathaniel, Vince, and a handful of day-laborers were out working the fields. It was Sunday, and Wolfwood had announced at the morning meal that, being a man of the cloth, working today would be strictly against his religion. No one had questioned the utterly pious nature of his assertion, except, of course, for Meryl. His shin still hurt from the kick she'd given him under the breakfast table. That woman was nothing but five feel of trouble.

The petite maelstrom of womanly wrath in question was currently in the kitchen, helping Elinor make the final adjustments to Vince's soon-to-be wife's gown. The future Mrs. Vincent Thompson (Abby) was standing on a chair, glowing in white, while the other women fussed at the hem of the dress. For some reason, he was surprised to learn that Meryl could sew. She just didn't seem all that... domestic. But, then again, look who was talking: the mercenary padre turned dutiful farmer.

Wolfwood figured that he deserved a break. He'd been working, like a mule, everyday under the oppression of two heartless suns. He'd never worked so hard in his life. Even the years of grueling training he'd been subjected to as a child, paled in comparison to the backbreaking labor of an honest day's work.

He had to admit though, he could get used to a life like this.

He hadn't had much use for his gun since they'd arrived in September. Yesterday, he'd fired into the air, frightening off a murder of crows after the wheat crop. Not much work for such a sophisticated weapon. It was both funny and sad: he felt strange living without the very real fear of imminent death. How long had he been living with one eye looking back over his shoulder? Now, his biggest worry was negotiating the attachment of a plow to a jumpy thomas, or playing Tooth Fairy to the orphans, trying to remove a lost molar from under little Jill's pillow and replace it with a silver double-dollar without waking her up.

Besides the three in the kitchen (ha! And now Meryl was swearing as she stuck herself with a needle) the only other person in sight was doing paperwork at the dining room table. Earlier that morning, he'd broken his vow of a day without labor in order to help Millie rake out the toma coop. Immediately afterwards, he'd taken a shower, but it didn't appear that she'd done the same. Her shirt (his shirt, actually) was filthy. It hung imprecisely over her shoulders, giving her a boxy appearance, doing no justice whatsoever to the decidedly feminine curves he knew were hidden beneath. Only one side of her overalls was fastened. Her hair was piled messily on top of her head with an elastic, and he suspected she'd gone to sleep with it wet the night before, as it was sticking up at an odd angle in the front. Ledgers and scraps of paper were scattered across the table in front of her. There was a rather large smudge of dirt across her nose and one of her cheeks. And as she worked over the numbers for the day-laborers' wages, her eyebrows screwed together in concentration, and the tip of her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth.

She was freaking adorable, and he'd never wanted her more.

She looked up and met his eyes. He offered up a smirk and she blushed furiously, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. When she turned back to her figures, she couldn't suppress her smile, and she began humming along with the satellite broadcast that played softly in the background.

Yep. Wolfwood was becoming awfully fond of the simple life. Too bad it wouldn't last.

His smile slipped away as his train of thought became darker. It was only a matter of time before Vash returned, and this whole beautiful fantasy would be shattered. Wolfwood couldn't be mad at him. After all, he'd done the same thing to Vash nearly four years ago. He'd built himself a nice little life in Kasted City, had people he cared about, a family. And Wolfwood had come to take it all away. Turnaround was fair play, and certainly no less than Wolfwood deserved.

If there was one thing Wolfwood had learned about redemption, it was that it took work. You couldn't just say you were sorry and expect to get a fresh start. You had to put yourself out there, make right as many wrongs as possible, and then maybe, just maybe, you'd get your chance at happiness. And of all the people he had to make amends to, Vash topped the list.

Spending time here with Millie and her family, Wolfwood had been given a glimpse of the life he now knew he wanted. And it was Vash who'd given him a second chance at making it his own. A chance to be somebody else. Maybe somebody more like himself, who he could have been before the circumstances of his life had led him to believe he had no other choice. For his entire life, he'd walked the same path, believing it was right, if for no other reason than there were no other roads to follow. Vash had given him a blank ticket, a future where the options were potentially limitless, not only by having saved his life, but by becoming his friend. Wolfwood just hoped that someday he'd earn it, that one day he'd be good enough to make it work.

“Vince! Don't you dare come in here!†Elinor yelled out from the kitchen, as Abby made a beeline through the living room and out of sight.

“I know, I know! Bad luck to see the bride. But Millie and Meryl got a letter, and it's marked urgent.†Vince stood framed in the front door, one hand covering his eyes, while the other held an envelope aloft.

Meryl made an attempt to take it from his hand, but his eyes were closed and his hand was at least three feel above her head. Millie took the letter and handed it to her senior partner.

“It's from Bernardelli,†she said as she tore the envelope open, her eyes quickly scanning the sheet of paper enclosed.

“Yay!†Millie bounced excitedly on the balls of her feet. “Finally! Our back pay!â€

The insurance girls had told Wolfwood of their plan to 'kill' Vash and quit the company. They then went on to explain they thought it was best to put that plan on hold. If they were going to find him, they'd need whatever resources Bernardelli could offer. So instead, they'd reported the truth: they'd lost him again.

“This is strange,†Meryl mumbled, her slender brows creasing over her eyes.

“What is it, Sempai?†Millie stood behind Meryl so that she could read over her shoulder.

“It says that our mission to locate and contain Vash the Stampede has been moved up to the company's top priority. We are to be given every resource available, and the limit on our traveling expenses has been lifted. Any and all expenditures in the pursuit of Vash the Stampede are to be paid in full by the Bernardelli Insurance Society. We are instructed to dispatch a first-class telegram to headquarters as soon as we make contact with the subject. And, under no circumstances are we to lose contact with the subject once found, upon pain of termination...â€

Wolfwood had risen from his chair, and now snatched the company directive from Meryl's hand. He ignored her growl of protest as he read the letter. “I don't like this.â€

“Am I missing something?†Millie asked. “Why are you two so serious all of the sudden?â€

“It just doesn't make any sense, Millie. Why does the company suddenly want him found so badly? Even at the height of his destruction, Bernardelli never gave our mission the status of 'top priority'. And the last incidence of damage with his confirmed involvement was back in LR Town. So, why all of the sudden do we have limitless resources and funds?†Meryl paced around uneasily, her mind obviously working over the possibilities. “I don't know what this means, but for once, I agree with Wolfwood: I don't like it.â€

As if on cue, the music on the satellite cut out and an announcer began speaking. Millie rushed over to turn it up.

“Sorry to interrupt your regularly scheduled musical programming, but we have a special announcement: Ahem! Attention all bounty hunters and would-be treasure-seekers alike, the One That Got Away, the biggest bounty in Gunsmoke history, has just had his head put back on the chopping block! That's right, the Federal Government has reissued a bounty for, the Humanoid Typhoon, the Destroyer of Cities: Vash the Stampede! And this time it's a whopping two-hundred billion double-dollars!â€

“WHAT!?†Meryl shrieked.

“Bullshit!†Wolfwood gaped. “They don't even have that much money in the treasury!â€

“Shhhh!†Millie and her mother both hissed, their attention focused on the satellite receiver. Though Elinor did manage a smack to the back of Wolfwood's head in response to his profanity.

“Now, the Feds would like you to know that despite reports of pacifism, this Localized Disaster is extremely dangerous, and capture should only be attempted by seasoned professionals... Yeah, right! Like that's ever stopped any of you before? And please note: this bounty is good only if you bring him in alive! That's right, if you kill him, you won't see a red c-cent. You know, this humble broadcaster almost feels sorry for the guy. With wanted posters being distributed like confetti as we speak, there soon won't be a corner of the planet where he can hide. Well, happy hunting, y'all! We'll now return you to our regularly scheduled broadcast.â€

“Sempai?â€

Meryl had a hand clutched to her chest, and she was having a hard time with the simple act of breathing. “This is not good. This is so not good.â€

“For once, I agree with the short girl.†Wolfwood habitually patted his pockets for cigarettes, even though Elinor would do more than just smack him upside the head if he even thought about lighting up inside.

“I don't think this is a coincidence. Do you, Sempai?†Millie asked, pressing her lips together in a thoughtful line.

“No, Millie,†she said, regaining her composure and setting herself on the problem at hand. “There's no way it's a coincidence.â€

“You two have worked for Bernardelli for years, right?†Wolfwood asked. “What do you know about their involvement with the Feds?â€

“The Bernardelli Insurance Society has been in existence nearly as long as the Federation itself,†Meryl supplied. “I know there are lines of communication between the two institutions, especially regarding factors that could potentially cause extensive damage.â€

“Well, our Mr. Vash certainly fits that bill, doesn't he?â€

“That he does,†Wolfwood agreed, “but that brings us back to our first question: why are they so hot to get there hands on him suddenly, considering he's all but disappeared?â€

They looked around at each other for a long moment, no one really having a good answer. “Well, we have to do something,†Meryl reasoned, “I'm going to write to Karen, and see if she can dig up any more information at headquarters.â€

“Karen?â̈́ 4; Wolfwood asked with his usual suspicion. “You trust this woman?â€

“Absolutely!†the insurance girls answered simultaneously.

“Well, okay then.†Wolfwood put up both his hands and backed away from the women, heading out the door for a much needed smoke.

“Meryl?†Millie put her hand on her partner's shoulder. “Are you okay?â€

“I'll be fine, Millie...†Meryl tightened her fist until she could feel her fingernails digging into the palm, “...just as long as we find him first.â€

<><><><><><& gt;<><><><><>

On their way to New Oregon, it had been necessary to stop for supplies. Knives had adamantly refused to walk with Vash to the center of town, where all of the stores could be found. Sensing his brother's growing anxiety, and not wanting to push him too quickly, Vash had left him with the seemingly benign task of recharging the truck's fuel cells. The fueling station was closer to the edge of town, and there were certainly less people there than there would be near the main street's shops. All Knives had to do was refuel, pay, and sit tight. Simple, right?

However, when Vash returned to the fueling station, Knives and their truck were gone. He felt a flutter of panic, part of him searching the ground for fresh corpses, before his brother's voice entered his thoughts.

“Nervous, Vash?†Though he was nearly an ile away, Vash could practically see the smug grin on his twin's face. “I wouldn't abandon you. We do, after all, have an arrangement.â€

Vash turned, noticing a few people staring at his sour expression as he blinked into space. He began walking in the direction he could sense Knives had gone. “Are you coming back for me, or what?â€

“There you go, getting shirty again,†Knives chided, his amusement at Vash's irritation apparent. “I'll be there in five minutes... If you're nice, I might even slow the truck down enough for you to jump in.â€

Vash chuckled despite himself, “Since when do you have a sense of humor? I was starting to think you'd had it surgically removed.â€

“Yes, well, I'd forgotten what it was like to have my own personal fool. You're quite entertaining, brother.â€

“Why you gotta be so cold, Knives?†Vash whined, squinting against the sun, and spotting the truck as it turned onto the street where he stood.

Knives pulled up next to Vash and leaned across the seat, pushing open the passenger side door. “Get in.â€

He'd barely gotten his feet inside before Knives slammed on the gas, kicking up a cloud of dust in their wake. “Whoa, you late for something?â€

“I'm simply eager to be as far away from those creatures as possible. You're lucky I didn't make you walk to the edge of town.â€

It was apparent to Vash, from Knives' tone, that his brother's sense of humor had once again gone missing. Well, it had been nice while it lasted, he consoled himself. He'd get there with Knives, he just had to be patient. “So,†he started conversationally, “I take it you managed to charge the fuel cells without killing anyone?â€

“Barely,†Knives grumbled. “I feel like my skin is crawling. What the hell took you so long, anyway?â€

“Come on now, bro... You hungry? I got some donuts...†Vash enticed, putting the only hand he had into the paper bag in his lap. He immediately shoved a whole donut into his mouth, then returned to the bag for a second, which he waved under his brother's nose.

“No.†Knives pushed away his brother's hand and the pastry it held. “And if you ever call me 'bro' again, I will cut off your head.â€

“Hey, now! There's that sense of humor!†Vash grinned broadly, crumbs sticking to his face.

Knives turned his head to regard him dispassionately, “Who said I was joking?â€

Hn. So that's how it's gonna be? “Okay, brother.†Vash forced a smile. “Would you care for a donut?â€

“No, brother,†Knives replied, sarcasm thick, “I don't think I would.â€

“Well, brother,†Vash shot back, his grin turning slightly evil, “have you ever had a donut?â€

“No, brother,†Knives said through teeth that were now fiercely clenched, “I don't believe I have.â€

“WHAT!?†Vash leaned across the seat towards him, the brothers' battle of temper and wit instantly forgotten. “You're kidding me, right? You have to have one! Right now!â€

“No, Vash! Leave me the hell alone, would you?†Knives scooted closer to his door, sorely disappointed that the truck had a bench seat, and therefore Vash was free to slide all the way down in his attempts to force-feed him junk-food.

“Knives, I'm telling you now: you're not going to win this one,†Vash said, his face the perfect imitation of solemn resolve. “Either you eat this donut, or you pull over and we have our death-match now.â€

“Oh, for the love of.... Give me that!†Knives plucked the partially mashed donut from Vash's hand, deciding that he'd rather eat sand than deal with Vash for another second.

Vash watched with eager anticipation as Knives took a bite. “Well?â€

Knives rolled his eyes, and then looked at the pastry in surprise. “You know, this is actually... Huh. These are really good.â€

“See? What did I tell you?.... Hey, wait a minute!†Knives had finished the donut and swiftly snatched the bag from Vash's lap. He attempted to get it back, but Knives held the bag out the window in his outstretched left hand. The right hand was helping him to eat the second donut, while his knees had taken over the responsibility of driving. “Dammit, Knives! Sharing is caring!â€

Knives had to work very hard to suppress a laugh as he tossed the bag back to Vash. “God! You're such a whiny brat.†He returned his left hand to the steering wheel, while using the right to retrieve his third donut. “'Sharing is caring'? Really, Vash.â€

“Well, it is,†Vash pouted, his bottom lip sticking out as he nibbled the edge of a donut. “Well, at least we found something you like about humanity.â€

“I hardly think baked goods are reason enough for their continued existence.â€

“Yeah, I know,†Vash conceded, a smile forming on his lips, “but it's a start.â€

Knives merely growled in response, flipping on the satellite, and mumbling something where the only word Vash caught was 'jackass'.

“...biggest bounty in Gunsmoke history, has just had his head put back on the chopping block!...â€

“Knives.†Vash felt his blood run cold. “Turn that up.â€

“Yeah, I hear it,†Knives said quietly, his expression darkening as he reached for the volume.

“...Federal Government has reissued a bounty for, the Humanoid Typhoon, the Destroyer of Cities: Vash the Stampede! And this time it's a whopping two-hundred billion double-dollars!...â€

Knives stopped the truck, and the brothers sat frozen as they listened to the rest of the broadcast. Finally, when it was over and music began playing again, Knives spoke up: “Crap.â€

“Double crap,†Vash agreed breathlessly.

They looked a each other for a long, silent beat. For a moment, Knives was sure that Vash understood the gravity of the situation, and that for once, he was going to be serious. That was, of course, before Vash launched into an epic bout of whining: “Oh, man! Why is it always me? I haven't even blown anything up lately!â€

“Vash, would you kindly shut the fuck up so that I can think!?†Knives massaged his temples, trying to decide how best to deal with this latest stumbling block. “This is very disquieting. Why does the Federal Government want you so badly?â€

“Because I destroyed July and Augusta? Dammit! I can't take this anymore!†Vash whined, somewhat pitifully.

“No, Vash,†Knives impatiently reasoned. “If that was the reason why, they would have issued the bounty when said events occurred. Not years later.â€

“Hey, don't worry.†Vash noticed his brother's anxiety and tried to smile reassuringly. “Remember, I have a lot of practice living with a bounty on my head.â€

“Not like this, Vash!†Knives yelled, what little patience he'd actually maintained being quickly spent. “This is fucking serious, and I'd appreciate it if you would treat it as such!â€

“No, you're right,†Vash said thoughtfully. “This is different than the last time, but until we get some more information, there really isn't much we can do about it.â€

“We're turning around and going back to the SEEDs ship!†Knives insisted. “Logistically speaking, it's the safest and most reasonable course of action.â€

“We're not going to run away from this!†Vash shouted back. “I'm not going to end up like you, locked away from the world in some fortress of solitude, getting pastier and more antisocial by the hour! We are going to New Oregon, as planned, and that is absolutely final!â€

Vash had regretted his words almost immediately after he'd spoken them, as he was sure they would throw Knives into a rage. His brother surprised him by not only refraining from screaming and/or violence, but by responding with a grin. However, Vash was very familiar with that particular grin, and it hardly meant anything good.

“So, you're quite sure about this, then?†Knives asked.

“Yes, I am,†Vash tried to sound resolute, but Knives' reaction was making him terribly nervous.

“Well, okay then,†Knives said, sounding practically chipper.

He got out of the truck and walked around to where his bag was stored in the back. Soon, Vash could hear him rustling through it, and craned his neck to try and see what he was looking for. “Um, Knives? What are you doing?â€

Knives didn't answer, but, after finding whatever it was he wanted, walked around to Vash's side of the truck, jerking the door open. Vash looked down to see him holding a straight-razor. “Just remember, Vash,†Knives grinned maniacally, “you've no one to blame for this but yourself.â€