Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Life Thereafter ❯ The Key ( Chapter 27 )

Disclaimer: How I wish I own Trigun. Sadly, I own it not.

 

A/N: So, I'm posting early because this site will be closed on Friday, and I would much rather post early than late. Anyway, in this chapter, we return to see what is happening with Vash, Knives, and Meryl. PLUS, we find out just what has been ailing Vash all this time AND how to cure him. Enjoy!

 

 

The Key

 

“Mmm…”

Meryl opened her eyes sluggishly and glanced around before promptly shutting them again. A small smile touched her lips as she remembered a time when getting up after six or seven in the morning had been luxurious to her. Not anymore, though. For the first time in her life, Meryl understood (to some extent) why Millie was always late for work. Sometimes the bed was just too warm and comfortable for anyone to want to get up.

Enjoying the peace while she could, Meryl relaxed, letting the warmth of the sheets to envelop her. She did not often have the chance to do this very much since Knives often forced her to get up, stiffly telling her that there was work to be done. It was a bit strange (but nice) that he had not come yet, but it had happened a few times when he stayed up all night researching. On the other hand, that made his disposition even more unpleasant than usual. Still, Meryl could take it.

Meryl wondered every now and then what had happened to her over these past several weeks. She had gone from an emotionally confused woman who was afraid, not only of Knives but of Vash, to someone who had almost no fear. Vash's “feather problem” still made her somewhat uncomfortable, but she had mostly adjusted to the situation.

Have I become a different person altogether? I mean, I know that it's absurd to think that I could have been unaffected by all this, but…

Her eyes slipped open as she sat up slowly in bed, a contemplative look on her face. The same sight that greeted her every day stared back at her, cold, metallic walls lined with medical equipment. It was the same room that she had occupied since her arrival between three or four weeks ago, and even though her wounds had mostly healed, Meryl had insisted upon staying here, much to Knives's irritation. Still he had allowed it after both she and Vash had been adamant about it.

Turning her head slightly, Meryl watched Vash out of the corner of her eye. She sighed when her view was mostly blocked by winged and feathered appendages. They were still strung up to the ceiling, dangling down awkwardly. Meryl could here his slow, even breathing, though, indicating that he was still asleep.

Lazy bum… she thought absently.

Rubbing the remaining sleep from her eyes, a wry grin twisted Meryl's lips as she felt the familiar feeling of deja vú coming on. It surprised her how easily she had gotten used to the routine that defined life on Knives's ship.

Every morning, Meryl got up (or, rather, was woken up), cleaned up, and had a silent breakfast in the room with Vash (and often Knives). Then, depending on what Knives told her to do, Meryl did it, whether it was maintaining the fortress, researching, or running tests on Vash's right arm.

Meryl felt her stomach knot, a pang of anxiety shooting through her. No progress had been made in curing Vash, and it was so discouraging. She wished that there was some other help to be had besides herself and Knives, but he had refused point blank to take Vash somewhere else for treatment. And, despite the fact that Vash was there, Meryl often felt lonely, wishing she had someone like Millie (whom she worried about often) to talk to because they had shared mostly everything. Plus, there were just some things that she could not talk to Vash about.

Well, I guess I should be grateful for the quiet. When Brilliant Dynamites Neon was here, there was so much tension, even more than there is now…

About a week and a half ago, Neon had left with his remaining men and vehicles after burying his men behind the ship. It had been a rather strange experience having him here, especially when Vash was explaining to him everything that had and was happening. It had surprised Meryl when Vash had told Neon basically everything, including the real reason for the Great Fall.

I guess he thought Neon deserved an explanation for…all those casualties…

BDN had taken it rather well actually, except for the part where he had decided to insult Knives and call him a “bastard” repeatedly. Meryl was sure that Knives, regardless of his injuries, would have attempted to kill him right there if Vash had not blocked him. It had almost turned really nasty when Neon drew his gun and aimed it straight at Knives's face.

“Want me to pull the trigger? Because I sure as hell will,” Neon had said, his voice low and dangerous.

That was a close call, Meryl sighed. At least Neon calmed down after that even though Knives looked ready to kill.

In any case, Neon had been told all, and within a couple of days, he left the ship, bringing his treasures with him and saying that he had no intention of returning for a long time. Naturally, he could not resist ordering Knives to leave the graves of his men alone. Considering how much Knives had been forced to allow, Meryl felt sure he was going to snap eventually. The only question was when.

Meryl hated not knowing. She hated not knowing when Knives would strike next. She hated not knowing how much longer this would go on. And most of all, she hated not knowing when and how they were going to cure Vash. That was the part Meryl hated the most.

She shook her head, slipping off of the bed. I guess I better get up before Knives decides to do it for me.

Tiptoeing around her bed so as not to wake Vash, Meryl silently pulled the curtain (something she had installed for privacy a while ago) along with her. Then, glancing down at the neat piles of her clean clothes within her bags, she picked a random top and pair of pants and pulled them on. Running a hand absently through her black hair, Meryl noticed again how long it was getting and that she needed to cut it. But, there had not been much time for such things.

Poking her head out from behind the curtain, Meryl ducked around them and wandered over to Vash's side, choosing the side without the feathers. As quietly as possible, she pulled up a stool and sat down, resting her elbows on the covers, her chin perched atop one hand, the familiar feeling of deja vú coming on. Again.

Still asleep…

Meryl smiled sadly, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. Her gaze drifting towards his face, Meryl noticed Vash's complexion was paler than it had been. Briefly tracing a finger over her own face, she knew she was probably somewhat pale too after all the weeks confined to the ship with very little exposure to the outside world.

Her eyes wandering again, Meryl noticed a random strand of blond hair flopped over Vash's face. Of course, his hair in general was flopping everywhere since he had not had a haircut in ages, which was understandable. Not to mention the rough stubble coming in along his jaw since he had not shaved for a while. That was Knives's fault, though, since he was in charge of Vash's hygiene. He rather disliked the job from what Meryl could see, but Knives did not want her to do it so he was stuck with the post.

Biting her lip, Meryl reached out tentatively and brushed the hair out of Vash's face, her fingers lingering for a moment before she began to pull away. It was when a hand wrapped around her own that Meryl started out of her own daze.

A small smile tugged on Vash's lips. “Couldn't resist, could you?”

 

 

Vash listened, his ears perking at the sound of her almost-silently padding feet as she came closer. He did his best to maintain the façade that he was asleep even though he was awake, wide awake in fact, ever since he had first heard her feet hit the floor.

Whenever Meryl got up before Knives got her up, she always pulled up that same stool and sat in that same spot. And, despite the fact that she thought he had been asleep every one of those times, he had actually been awake, just savoring her presence beside him.

Today, though, when she brushed the hair from his face so lightly that he could barely feel it, Vash had felt somewhat emboldened, slipping his eyes open and clasping her hand in his own, watching her mild expression turn to one of surprise.

Vash smiled. “Couldn't resist could you?”

Meryl's mouth opened and closed several time. “I…you…”

“Heh heh h-”

THWOP!

“Ow!” Vash whined. “What was that for?”

Meryl's cheeks were turning a bright red. “You know what it was for!”

“No, I don't!”

Meryl glared at him, and Vash edged away from her slightly. “Yes, you do, Vash! Yes, you do!”

Vash weighed his options as Meryl's wrath began to burn hotter. Option Number One: Admit to her that I am always awake when she sits by me and that I just sit and savor her company, hoping she won't go away and that I just couldn't resist this time. Option Number Two: Tell her I was half asleep when I did that and didn't really mean it. Option Number Three: Act goofy like I just did it for kicks.

“Come on, Meryl! You know you liked it! I liked it…”

THWOP!

“Ow! What now?” Vash protested.

Meryl was turning an even brighter shade of red, if that was at all possible. “You are such a pervert!”

“Eh heh…how'd you guess?”

THWOP!

“OW!” Vash yelped, holding his one good arm up to ward off the enraged insurance girl.

“I can't -TWHOP- believe you -TWHOP-! You -THWOP- are such -THWOP- a showy -THWOP- pervert! -THWOP-”

“Owowowowow!”

When the blows stopped coming, Vash peaked over his left arm to see if it was safe yet. To his surprise, Meryl was sitting on the stool again, staring at him, her face still quite red. The look on her face, it was a mix of emotions that swirled about, so much so that Vash could barely identify them.

I wonder what…

“I'm…sorry I hit you, Vash…”

Vash blinked. Say what? “Don't worry about it, Meryl. I, er, I kinda asked for it,” he said, laughing nervously.

“So did I…”

She what? “What do you mean?”

Meryl shook her head. “Nothing. Nothing at all…”

And she refused to say anymore, even when Vash continued to prod her. When he finally gave up, the two of them sat in awkward silence, neither wanting to break it for fear of saying something stupid.

Why is it always like this with us? Vash wondered. We've know each other for a few years now, but…we're still doing the same old thing. We're still…awkward…

“I'm…sorry. Vash…”

Vash looked up, catching the solemn expression on Meryl's face. “Sorry? For what?”

“I'm…sorry that…”

Oh no. Is she going to say that she's sorry that she smacked me because she really DID enjoy holding hands? No…get a hold of yourself. But…what if she DOES?

“I'm sorry that we…that you…aren't cured yet…”

Vash stared at her. I'm almost positive that that wasn't what she wanted to say… “Don't…don't worry about it, Meryl. We'll find a cure eventually…”

Meryl shook her head again. “That's exactly the problem, Vash. Do know know when `eventually' is?”

Vash looked down, a solemn look on his face. She has a point. We've been here for almost a month and still no luck… Vash smiled wryly. “Heh, so what are you suggesting, Meryl? That we give up?”

“No!” Meryl protested, an affronted tone in her voice. “No, I didn't mean that…”

Vash put a finger to her lips, silencing her. “I know you didn't. But, you have to hope, Meryl. You can't just give up because things aren't going the way you want them to be. Hope…it's something you have to have. At least, that's what I believe…”

He trailed off, allowing his hand to fall away slowly. Meryl looked down, dark hair obscuring her face from view. Vash watched her silently, letting her mull over what he had said. It was hard on her, he knew, to deal with all of this, but he was glad she had stuck it out.

“I…understand…”

Meryl's voice was slow soft that Vash barely heard it, but he managed to catch those two words. He nodded, a small smile touching his lips. He reached over, lifting her chin slightly so they were eye level. They stared at each other, neither sure what to say.

“Listen, Meryl…I-”

“How touching,” a voice intoned darkly from the doorway.

 

 

Knives stretched a bit as he navigated the corridors of his fortress towards the medical bay. He had once again pulled an all-nighter researching, evaluating data, and running theories through his mind. Vash had told him not to do so, but Knives had merely given his brother a look. That had been the end of that particular discussion.

Yet, even though Knives had spent countless hours trying to find a way to cure Vash, all of his efforts had come to naught. Not only that, but he had been forced to endure ridicule from that human who called himself Brilliant Dynamites Neon, and his brother's pet was still alive and well. The entire situation was infuriating.

A while ago, Knives had decided to take up residence in his own quarters, a place where he would have access to the ship's network without needing to be inside the medical bay. It disgusted him that his brother was in the same room with that woman since the last thing he wanted was for them to grow closer. And yet, that was exactly what Knives suspected was happening.

He frowned, preparing to open the door to the medical bay when he heard voices on the other side of the door. Knives narrowed his eyes and put his ear to the door, listening. He caught random phrases and tones of voice, the latter of which he found to be the most abhorrent. Finally, he slid the door open, his arms folded over his chest.

“How touching.”

Vash and the woman jerked away from each other effect of immediately while Knives watched, his eyes flaring dangerously. Still, he said nothing as he walked over the computer, checking the results of the yesterday's experiment.

“I'll…I'll be right back,” Meryl said hesitantly before quickly leaving the room.

Knives ignored her and sat down in his chair, his finger tapping the keys as he accessed the data. Neither said a word for a long time, and the length of time the woman had been absent grew longer with each passing minute. Finally, the silence was broken.

“Knives…”

“What?” Knives snapped, not bothering to look in Vash's direction.

“This isn't…I mean it's not-”

“Save it, Vash. I'm not in the mood to hear your ridiculous, stuttering explanations, and in case you haven't noticed, there's work that needs to be done.”

“But-”

Knives turned slowly, his face hard and bordering on rage. “I will not say it again. Whatever you were doing with that…disgusting piece of vermin, I don't care to know. But I will say this,” he said, glaring at Vash, “you think this infatuation you have with this human will end well, but it won't.”

Vash frowned. “That's out of line, Knives. And you don't know anything about it.”

“Is that what you think?” Knives sneered. “Well, have it your way, Vash. Enjoy your pet while you can.”

Vash sat up straighter in bed, his features becoming angry now. “If you touch her-”

“Now, really, Vash, what would that profit me now? You haven't been cured, and, as you have become so fond of telling me, I can't do this alone.”

“But you just said-!”

“Um…”

Vash cut off what he was about to say as the human came back into the room, but he eyed Knives suspiciously, his expression clear that this discussion was not over by a long shot. Knives shrugged and continued to look over the test results, conscious of the woman sitting back down next to Vash. Ignoring the hot surge of anger, Knives continued reviewing the results until something caught his eye.

Interesting. Based on what it says here, it looks like the flow of energy has stabilized, almost come to a halt. But, how is that possible?

Glancing speculatively at Vash, Knives knew based on past experience that Vash's condition worsened every time something stressful happened to him. His ailment first manifested itself largely when Knives had killed those three foolish bounty hunters. Then, when he had made an attempt on the life of his pet when they first arrived, Vash's condition had become exceptionally advanced with the appearance of the first black strands of hair. Lastly, the experiment which backfired also contributed to this hair-darkening effect.

All of this, Knives knew it already. Plus, evidence from previous tests indicated that Vash lost energy even when he was feeling relatively calm. In essence, it was a steady decline in energy. Therefore, this sudden halt in the decrease in power broke the pattern.

There must be an unknown factor in this, Knives thought. I wonder-

Knives quickly began to pull up previous tests that had been taken before the incident with Brilliant Dynamites Neon. He scanned them, noticing an increase in the amount of energy Vash had been giving off. He frowned, his lips pursed in thought as he pulled up the experiments that took place after that.

What he found was nothing short of bizarre. At first, the energy readings had been the same, but after a few days passed, they began to diminish until finally it slowed almost to a halt. Leaning back in his chair, Knives rubbed his chin contemplatively.

It would appear that something changed during the time before and after the battle. Is it possible…?

Then, something clicked into place. Knives turned, staring from Vash to the woman sitting beside him, the cold metal of his gun chilling his skin. He remembered…

He moved swiftly, positioning himself on a high rise overlooking the remaining pests. From this angle, it would be possible to wipe out every single last human in one final blast. Brutal, yet efficient.

Knives grinned crookedly. It's time to rid myself of your inferior presences, once and for all!

He raised his black Colt, the gun gleaming wickedly in the blood red light from the Fifth Moon. Knives aimed, prepared to fire, and…

…nothing.

Knives stared down at the gun, his brow furrowed. The Colt would not fire, nor would it transform. Something was wrong. It should have functioned perfectly. What was…?

No. The cylinders, Knives realized. They must have been removed! But by whom? he wondered.

I see now… Knives raged as he slowly raised himself off of the chair, his fists clenched. It was her!

“Knives?” Vash asked nervously. “What are you-?”

Knives strode up to the woman and grabbed her by the neck, lifting her physically off of the stool. “You…you're responsible!” he snarled.

“I don't…I don't know…what you're talking about!” she gasped.

“KNIVES!!!” Vash shouted, straining against the straps holding his right arm in place.

“Where…are…the…cylinders?” Knives hissed, shaking Meryl with each word.

“I don't…have them,” she coughed.

Knives's face twisted even further. “Liar! You do have them! And do you see what your interference has done? Had the cylinders been inside the guns, this would not have happened,” he raged, indicating the black streak in his own hair.

“DON'T! KNIVES, DON'T!!!” Vash bellowed, still pulling against his constraints.

“I should snap your neck right now…” Knives whispered hoarsely, his nose nearly touching hers.

“STOP, KNIVES!!!” Vash roared as he broke free of the straps and tackled Knives, causing him to lose his grip on the woman as Vash dragged him to the floor and pinned him.

“VASH!” the human cried.

“Get off me right now, Vash,” Knives ground out, struggling to shove his feathered brother off of him.

“No, I won't,” Vash growled. “I won't let you hurt her!”

“Idiot! She's been hiding them from us all this time, and you still defend her!” Knives thundered.

CLATTER!

Both Vash and Knives stopped, searching for the source of the noise. Out of the corner of his eye, Knives saw something black. Jerking his head around, still pinned by his cumbersome brother, Knives watched as two black cylinders rolled lazily on the floor, gleaming in the artificial light.

“I…I had them, Knives…”

Knives stared at Vash, the look on his face calm, but Knives could see the tension roiling beneath. Knives knew, and nothing Vash said could change that.

`You're a terrible liar, Vash,' Knives sneered.

`I'm not lying!' Vash protested. `I've had them all this time!'

`You, and more importantly I, know you're lying. That vermin had the cylinders, but you're trying to protect her by saying you had them. I'm not a fool.'

`I won't let you hurt her, Knives,' Vash said stubbornly.

`So you keep saying. However…'

`…Knives? What is it?' Vash asked anxiously.

`…That's it…'

`What's it?'

The gears in Knives's mind began to turn. It occurred to him that this entire mess began the first time Vash had used his unique abilities without the safety measure of the Long Colts. And, considering Vash's reaction to using his power that way… Of course. It was so obvious. Knives considered this carefully, knowing a miscalculation could bring on disaster.

Judging by what he had been told by Legato, Vash's Angel Arm cannon had developed in stages, each time growing more powerful until finally it involved feathered wings sprouting from his shoulder. Knives, on the other hand, had gone through relatively little development of that sort, mastering both the Angel Arm cannon and his Angel Blades with few complications.

However, since Vash's “Gate” was so much greater than Knives's, it made sense that his power would develop more rapidly, to the point where he could easily lose control of it. What was ailing Vash was not a disease or a virus. It was himself, his inability to harness the power he had been given without expending too much energy. The cylinders in the guns were the only reason Vash had been able to use his Angel Arm safely, and even when Vash had merely been carrying his gun around for over a century, the cylinder in the Colt had somehow been keeping the energy flow in check.

But when the fool left the guns in the desert, he wrote his own recipe for disaster…

“Let me up, Vash.”

“Why should I do that?” Vash asked suspiciously.

“Because Vash,” Knives said calmly, “I have just figured out a way to cure you.”

Vash stared at Knives. “You…have?”

“Yes.”

Vash narrowed. “And why should I believe you?”

A wry grin twisted Knives's lips. “Why shouldn't you?”

“There are so many different things I could say to answer that question, Knives,” Vash said quietly. “But I really want…need to know. Have you really thought of a way to…fix this?”

Vash's eyes shifted away from Knives. Following Vash's gaze, Knives saw Vash was looking at his right arm, the limb that had become virtually unrecognizable. Watching his brother closely, Knives saw Vash's expression shift from doubtful…to hopeful.

“Alright. I believe you,” Vash said solemnly, clambering clumsily off of Knives, who stood swiftly, brushing himself off.

“I thought you would,” Knives said smoothly.

“Here, Vash, let me help you,” the woman said, pulling him up and onto his bed.

Knives's fingers twitched slightly as he longed to wrap them around her neck once more and squeeze the breath of life out of her, but it would have to wait. There were more important matters to attend to.

“So, how are you going to cure me, Knives?”

Knives grinned wryly. “By using the same objects that enable our guns to transform, dear brother.”

Vash's eyes widened. “You don't mean-?”

Knives nodded smugly as he bent down and picked the two small objects up, rolling them around on his palm. “Yes, I do. The cylinders are the key.”

 

 

Oooooh! PLOT! It reappears! Just like magic!!!

Knives: Foolish human, there is no such thing as “magic.”

Hey! There is so magic!

Knives: No, there isn't.

-mutters- You enjoy being a stick-in-the-mud, don't you?

Knives: I am no such thing.

You are a STICK in the MUD. THEREFORE… -tosses Knives into a mud hole-

Knives: -curses and calls the authoress many words that must be censored since this fic is rated PG-13-

Ahhh. I feel better. Anyway, REVIEWS now please! XD