Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ I'm Free ❯ Chapter 11 ( Chapter 11 )

Trigun Fanfic

Summary:Why did it all go wrong? When did it all go wrong? He has a vague sense that he isn't where he's supposed to be, that he's being held by invisible bonds that he cannot see. Great sadness engulfs him as he looks upon the glowing bulbs and one thought reigns in his mind as he looks at the people looking back at him: You can't take me! I'm free!

 

Trigun © Yasuhiro Nightow * Shonen Gaho-sha * Tokuma Shoten * JVC * Pioneer Entertainment (USA) Inc.

The following fan fiction was written by me (Chiruken) and is intended for the sole purpose of shared entertainment and not intended for publication or sale.

 

I'm Free

 

By Chiruken

 

Chapter 11

 

Gunsmoke, Present Day:

He was bored. He longed for the deafening silence to be broken. He tried to will it to be broken, to no avail. Of course, he knew a way to relieve the boredom that had overtaken him, but was reluctant to resort to such drastic measures. He still wasn't ready to announce to the world…such as it was, currently consisting of his brother, the two women, and himself…that he was no longer unconscious and unaware of the passage of time. But still…it was so damnably boring that it was starting to drive him batty.

He fought to keep his expression blank, to not allow the scowl he was feeling to emerge. The more time that passed, the more he remembered, which would probably be considered by most to be a positive turn of events. However, he wasn't just anybody and he didn't care for the returning memories one little bit. He was starting to understand why Meryl continuously referred to him as a psychopath. It was as if a lifetime had passed, or perhaps the events unfolding in his slowly recovering memories had happened to another person and he was merely the observer. He sighed inaudibly and mentally shook his head. As much as he longed to deny it, he couldn't. He had to face facts and the facts all pointed to something he was loathe to admit, yet found he had no choice in the matter. He wasn't a nice person and he didn't really like himself all that much. It was a wonder that no one had tried to suffocate him yet while he was still recovering physically. It would've been easy…the pillows were there, his limbs still incapacitated, and he was supposedly unconscious…yet no one had lifted a finger to harm him. In fact, it was the complete opposite. They were doing all they could to see to his recovery. But what bothered him the most about the situation…something that stayed in his mind and kept him awake long after his body told him to sleep…he knew that if the roles were reversed that he wouldn't have hesitated…he would have killed each and every one of the people who were currently helping him and he wouldn't have given it a second thought.

He really wished Vash would say something. It was his turn to keep watch over him, but he had yet to utter a sound. Vash rarely spoke to him, actually. Millie would talk, blithely chatting about inconsequential things, a cheerful tide of words that washed over him continuously, despite his lack of response. Even Meryl talked to him, usually about matters pertaining to the running of the household, her tenuous hold on her continued employment with the insurance society, and occasionally rhetorical questions directed at him asking impossible questions that always began with “why”. Her conversations were sometimes interspersed with little comments that at first made no sense and then later, with the passage of time, hinted at deeper feelings directed towards his brother…which, of course, he really didn't want to know, but he couldn't very well tell her that…not if he didn't want to “blow his cover”. He fought the urge to laugh…and won after a valiant effort to contain his mirth. To the best of his knowledge, Vash was completely clueless where the small woman was concerned. He was more than a little disturbed by his lack of attention. Unless, of course, the woman was better at concealing her feelings than he gave her credit for.

Truthfully, he much preferred the company of the women at this point. He was still quite angry with his brother for shooting him. Though his memory of the details was still a little sketchy, he understood that he really hadn't given Vash much choice in the matter, but a part of him whined that he didn't have to shoot him so many times. He didn't like pain…which, of course, was an understatement. He loathed it, hated it with every fibre of his being. But, even more than that, he feared it. Pain brought with it memories of a distant time when he lived with so much pain that even now, so long after the fact, he could feel the veil of terror descending over his mind, choking him, causing his heart to race and his stomach to heave alarmingly. He pushed the panic away forcefully and turned his mind away from the past and memories of the sour scent of alcohol and the images of a looming figure shrouded in shadows.

He wondered what Vash thought about while he sat in the rickety chair at his bedside, silent for hours on end. He was tempted to find out, but refrained. His brother may have neglected honing most of his natural born talents, but he would definitely notice an intrusion into his mind. Of course, he wasn't overly concerned about searching through the minds of the women, yet he still exercised caution. It wouldn't do for Vash to sense his telepathic prodding. Then there were the women themselves. He grimaced inwardly. Millie was…different. He didn't think he'd ever encountered anyone quite like her before in his long life. He ignored the fact that he'd lived the life of a hermit for most of it with very little contact with others to really base much of a comparison on. He liked her mind, for the most part, but he really didn't want to spend a lot of time in it. Meryl, on the other hand, had an interesting mind. Very orderly, everything was neatly tucked away, information easy to access if needed. Yet, at the same time, he really didn't want to spend a lot of time in her mind, either. Too many of her thoughts centered on his brother…and himself. The thoughts of his brother weren't something he wished to focus on for obvious reasons. He fought the flush of embarrassment and eventually won. And her thoughts about him weren't very flattering so he really felt no need to linger on them. He sighed softly, a bare breath of sound and admitted that the real reason he didn't want to be in their minds was for the simple fact that he'd managed, unfortunately, to enter during a very bad time of the month. He'd learned more about the female body than he ever wanted to know. A slight grimace rippled across his brow. Simply put, a woman suffering from PMS was not one he wished to be connected to mentally.

 

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