Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Life Thereafter ❯ High Noon ( Chapter 31 )

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

 

A/N: YEAH! CHAPUTAH 31 IS HERE!

 

Just so everyone knows, I'm VERY excited about this chapter. I've been wanting to write it for…months… It actually turned out longer than I expected. I think it's my longest chapter to date. o.o

 

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy the “Final Battle.” It is jammed full of all kinds of interesting things. Suspense! Action! Drama! Fluff (Yeah, that surprised me, too, actually.)! And…and…insinuations!

 

But now I'm rambling, and no one cares about what I have to say. Therefore, let us move on to the fic! Behold! I bring to all you people…

 

 

High Noon

 

Vash walked down the empty corridors, his footsteps echoing loudly. He repressed a shiver, not only because of the frigid atmosphere but also due to what was about to take place. Glancing about, he wondered briefly how Knives could have stood living in such an environment for so long. No warmth whatsoever.

But then, I guess it suits him…

It had been a few days since Knives had challenged him to a fight. Vash had no idea what had caused Knives to decide to confront him now, but deep down, Vash had, on some level, known that it would come to this all long. After all this time, even though Vash had been dying of a terminal “illness,” nothing had changed. Knives was still the same human-hating, uncompromising Plant supremacist that he had been for over a century. Vash had hoped against all hope that Knives would come around, but it was not to be.

Vash shook his head. Nothing could be done about it now. And so he walked on, making his way to the site where Knives had said they should meet. His gaze swept across the room, noting the rubble that still had not been cleaned up since Brilliant Dynamites Neon's visit. Warm wind drifted in, ruffling Vash's hair. Resigned, Vash walked through the opening that had been blasted into the wall.

Squinting slightly as the bright rays from the twin suns beamed down upon him, Vash stepped out into the desert. It was high noon on Gunsmoke, and sand shifted beneath his feet as he walked, his gaze solemn as it swept across landscape which was speckled with random chunks of rumble. They were markers, Vash knew. Grave markers.

Before Brilliant Dynamites Neon had left, he had buried each Bad Lad where he had fallen and covered each with a chunk of rubble. Each one had something scrawled on it, the Bad Lad's name, his date of birth, and “RIP.” Tracing one fingertip across the edge of one of them, Vash felt sorrow in his heart for them. And while he was far from kindred spirits with BDN, Vash respected the man's devotion to his minions, no matter how much of a bandit he was.

Lifting his eyes towards the sky, Vash noted the tone, a clear blue with several fluffy clouds drifting across the broad horizon. It sharply contrasted with the bleak exhibition that would be put on soon. Vash had no idea what was going to happen, but it was not the first time. So, all he could do was wait for Knives and see what would happen next.

The sound of footsteps made Vash's ears prick up, and he turned, his expression neutral. Knives stood before him, a lopsided grin on his face and a ragged cloak about his shoulders. Vash nodded once, acknowledging his sibling, perhaps for the last time.

Knives cocked a brow. “Come now, Vash. Is that any way to greet me, your brother?”

Vash's jaw tightened. “Let's just…get this over with.”

“Certainly, by all means, dear brother,” Knives said mockingly. “But, don't you think you'll be needing this?”

Vash stiffened as Knives held up the silver Colt, its metallic surface gleaming in the sunlight. In an act of utter idiocy (or so Meryl had told him), Vash had come to face Knives unarmed. Vash had no idea why he had come at all, besides the fact that he wanted this over and behind him, and sitting around doing nothing would not have helped accomplish that.

“Relax, brother,” Knives said easily, tossing the gun nonchalantly towards Vash.

His eyes widening, Vash caught it in one hand, his right. He lifted it, inspecting the Colt. It was the same as it had always been, oddly comforting in his hand, as though it belonged there. Vash smiled wryly. Considering that it had been a part of his life for over a century, he supposed he should not be surprised.

“Honestly, Vash. Did you think I'd fight you when I knew you had no weapon?” Knives said derisively.

“The thought had crossed my mind,” Vash replied smoothly, sticking his gun in its holster, a familiar weight against his hip.

Knives smirked. “Now, where would the fun be in that?”

Vash sighed, looking down at his feet. “I don't know.”

Narrowing his eyes at Vash, Knives said, “What? Nothing to say, brother? Not going to try to dissuade me from this? Not going to try to `save me' like your Oh-so-precious Rem instructed?”

Looking up, resignation written all over he face, Vash stated, “No. No, I won't Knives. I've tried, but I see now that I can only help you if you meet me halfway, and you haven't even tried to.”

“Is there a point to this drivel?” Knives sneered.

“I've tried. I've been trying ever since we were young, but nothing's worked. Nothing. And so,” Vash said softly, wrapping his fingers around the handle of his gun, “it's come to this. I'll fight you, Knives. If I can at all prevent it, I'm not going to kill you. But…” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly, “if there's no other way…then…yes. I'll cut you down. I beat you once, and I can do it again.”

“Your arrogance,” Knives seethed, his eyes burning, “truly is astounding. The only reason you defeated my last time was because of the traitor priest's Cross Punisher! You don't have that now.”

“You're right, Knives, I don't,” Vash said calmly. “But…thanks to you…I don't need it.”

“Enough!” Knives spat, drawing his black Colt in one smooth motion and aiming it at Vash's face. “No more words!” he snarled, ripping the cloak away.

Slowly, Vash followed suit, releasing the safety on his gun with a click. Neither spoke, one face resigned, the other confident. They stood there for a long time, hot torrents of wind whipping about their lean frames, one clad in red, the other in red and white.

Pushing his sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose, Vash set his feet sturdily in the sand for better footing, his spiked hair rustling in the wind. He did not once shift is gaze away from Knives, waiting to see who would make the first move. Overhead, a cloud had drifted across the sun, causing a shadow to cross over the two Plants…

…and then it was gone.

Within a few minutes, the sounds of multiple gunshots ricocheted across the graveyard.

 

 

“Meryl-”

“Don't say it, Vash. My answer is no.”

“I haven't said anything yet!”

“You didn't have to. I already know what you're going to say. My answer is N-O. No!”

“You're being stubborn!”

“Say what you like. I'm not going to change my mind.”

“But-!”

“Don't `but' me, Vash! It won't work so don't even try it!”

“Then what CAN I say that will convince you otherwise?”

“Absolutely nothing, Vash. Absolutely nothing.”

“Give me a hint, Meryl.”

“Hint?”

“Yes. A hint that will enable me to miraculously convince you to leave and go back to December!”

“Tcch. Nothing you're smart enough to think up, and I'm certainly not going to tell you!”

“Meryl…I'm not kidding around…this is serious.”

“Do you think I don't know that?”

“No, I don't think you do!”

“Don't even GO there, Vash. I know what's at stake here!”

“No, you don't! If you did, you'd listen to me!”

“Just because I don't do every single thing you tell me to do doesn't make me any less intelligent than you are! Stop being such a…such a…MAN!”

“Say WHAT?”

“You heard me, Vash the Stampede!”

“What does my being a GUY have to do with ANYTHING?”

“I am NOT some damsel in distress who needs a big, strong man to tell me what's best for me and what I should do! I'm staying here!”

“MERYL! I CAN'T GUARANTEE YOUR SAFETY!”

“I DON'T CARE! I'M NOT LEAVING!”

“DAMNIT, MERYL, I MIGHT LOSE! AND THEN WHERE WOULD YOU BE? YOU'D BE AT KNIVES'S MERCY, AND I WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT!”

“I KNOW THAT!”

“… What are you saying, Meryl? That you know? Do you really know?”

“Yes, I know. I know what will happen if you lose. The end of the human race…as we know it…”

“Meryl-”

“No. You listen. If…if you DO lose, what difference does it make if I leave now or not?”

“Well-”

“I'll tell you what difference it'll make, Vash. None. If I leave now and you lose, Knives is going to kill us all anyway. I'd rather stay here…and know for a FACT…what's going to happen than to wait and find out later.”

“Meryl…listen…”

“No, Vash. I'm staying here. Just…drop it. This subject is closed.”

“Meryl…you DO realize what this means, don't you?”

“Yes, Vash… I do. I don't want you to go fight Knives, but…I know there's nothing else you can do so…”

“I'm sorry…”

“It's not your fault.”

“… Meryl?”

“What?”

“… Thanks for…everything.”

“Idiot.”

“HEY! That's not very nice!”

“Sit down!”

“Stop pushing me!”

“I told you to SIT. DOWN!”

“Yes'm! So…why am I sitting?”

“Because I'm going to cut your hair.”

“Wait a minute…have you ever…CUT someone's hair before?”

“Yes. I used to cut my own hair all the time.”

“Oh…ok.”

“…”

“Are you done yet?”

“Almost… There. What do you think?”

“Wow…it's…spiky again.”

“Yeah, it is…Needle Noggin.”

“That's low, Meryl!”

“Pfft. Oh. Before you go…”

“Eh?”

“Here.”

“Meryl…where did you get this?”

“We found an extra mixed in with all your stuff. And…I just thought that now might be a good time for you to…put it on again.”

“… Thank you.”

“You're welcome. Oh, and Vash?”

“Yeah?”

“Go kick his ass.”

 

 

Knives twisted away as the first bullet whistled past his face, his expression forbidding as he returned fire. Darting forward, firing rapidly, Knives slid about behind Vash, aiming his gun at the back of Vash's head. Vash ducked as a bullet whizzed over his head, singeing several spiked hairs.

Vash spun around, striking out with his foot against Knives's heel. Nearly losing his balance, Knives jerked away, skidding to a halt not too far away before rolling to the side as bullets thumped a few inches away from him. Leaping to his feet, Knives fired a few mores times, glaring as Vash jumped around all over the place dodging them in a ridiculous fashion.

Click!

Knives flipped over a gravestone, crouching behind it as he reloaded, flinching slightly as one of Vash's bullets splintered part of the shelter. His breathing low and even, Knives waited a few moments before looking around the chunk of rubble. Another shell whizzed past his face and he jerked away, a slight burning sensation on his cheek. Reaching up tentatively, he touched his face briefly before drawing his hand away, narrowing his eyes upon seeing the red liquid smearing his fingers.

So…you've drawn first blood. Well done.

Snapping his Colt shut, Knives once again glanced cautiously around the headstone. His eyes widened slightly. No one was there. He pursed his lips, his mouth a thin line as he began to prowl amongst the graves. Looking at the eyesores which cluttered the area behind his ship was irritating enough, but it downright pissed him off that they were there to commemorate human deaths.

When I find that cocky human bastard, I'll take great pleasure in ripping him apart, Knives thought darkly.

As he slipped slowly through the graveyard of Bad Lads, Knives's gazed shifted back and forth, ever vigilant in case Vash decided upon a sneak attack. The only problem was that he could be hidden behind any one of these hunks of debris. Knives would have had their battle within the ship itself in front of their sisters, but he had decided against that. After all, since he had reinstalled the cylinders within the Colts, anything could happen…

Knives's awareness heightened as he heard a soft, scuffing noise behind him. He knew that sound well. It was the sound of desert sand shifting as one crept through it. His expression guarded, Knives turned and began to walk in the direction where he had last heard the sound. Catching a glimpse of red, Knives looked away, a lopsided smirk on his face.

“Brother,” he called out loudly, his voice echoing faintly across the landscape, “are we going to settle this today or within another century?”

Vash's voice came drifting from amongst the graves, hard and determined. “No, Knives. We'll settle this today.”

Knives grinned. “Then, come out, brother. Come out and play.”

 

 

Meryl tapped her foot nervously, biting her lip as she glanced anxiously towards the door. She had been sitting here for a while, waiting for Vash to come back. He really was such a broom head, trying to convince her to leave him alone to fight Knives. Not that she could help with the battle herself (since those two were on a whole other level), but still…

It's the principle of the thing, she thought. I'm not going to run away like some frightened weakling. I've toughed it out for this long…I can keep on doing it.

Waiting was nerve-wracking, though. It had been different when Vash had left a while back to fight Knives on his own in the desert. But now, it felt like the fighting was going on in her backyard. Just thinking about the fact that Vash was fighting for his life just outside this ship was enough to drive Meryl nuts.

Not only that, but Meryl felt like she had not been able to do anything for Vash before he had to go meet Knives. Sure, she had cut his hair and spiked it for him (Meryl would never agree with Knives over anything except the fact that Vash looked like a slob when he grew his hair out like that.), but that really was not much of anything. Vash had seemed grateful, though, and she could still remember the look on his face when she had handed him his old boots and red duster, as well as the body armor that went with it.

He looked…nostalgic…as though the outfit was an old friend. But, at the same time…he looked sad…

Meryl shook her head. She hated not being able to do anything. People had often gotten that impression from her, that she could not do anything for herself because of her height. A swift verbal assault later, most backed off and acknowledged that Meryl could indeed look after herself, especially if they “accidentally” caught a glimpse of the fifty derringers hidden within the folds of her cloak.

She frowned, an idea forming in the back of her mind. No. I'm not going to do that. I'll only get in the way. At the very least, since I refused to go to December, I should wait inside until Vash comes back…

She pushed herself up carefully, knowing that her…injury had not yet fully healed. Meryl rummaged about in her bags, grabbing a few derringers from there and loading them before stuffing them in the multiple pockets in her overalls,

I'm glad I brought more than one pair. Knives ruined the other…

A determined look on her face, Meryl stalked from the infirmary, each hand clenching a small gun.

 

 

Vash huddled behind one of the grave markers, his expression grim. Knives was right. He could not stay here all day, or nothing would ever get settled. He poked his head out from behind his hiding place. He jerked backwards upon being greeted by a gun barrel aim directly at his face.

BANG!

Vash skidded backwards, panting softy, clutching his left shoulder. He looked at it, pulling his blood-stained fingers away. He turned his attention back to Knives, who stood not to far off, grinning mockingly, the end of his gun smoking.

Taking a deep breath, ignoring the throbbing pain as best he could, Vash charged, firing the silver Colt in rapid succession. Knives ducked away, taking cover as he shot from behind it. Vash darted away, dodging the bullets one by one. Finally, one clipped his side, and Vash twisted away, taking shelter as well.

He frowned with concern, wincing slightly as he reloaded. This was bad. Knives had already scored two hits, one minor, the other more serious. Vash moved his shoulder around a little. It ached, but it still functioned. However, the blood loss could slow him down.

I need to somehow gain the upper hand…

Snapping his gun shut, Vash forced himself to breathe normally, his heart beating so loudly he thought surely Knives would be able to hear it. Cautiously, he peered around the stone, his back to the grooved surface.

Nothing.

Vash blinked. It was not like Knives to hide. Not at all. Take shelter in case of a hail of bullets, yes that made perfect sense for him. But hiding? Scooting forward, Vash crouched, narrowing his eyes suspiciously as he edged forward.

Right then, the gravestone he was hiding behind shattered, blown clean apart. Vash leapt clear, avoiding the fragments as they flew everywhere. Skidding to a halt a few yarz away, Vash looked wildly about, searching for what had done it, knowing that handguns did not have that kind of firepower. His mouth went dry upon what he saw.

Knives stood a little ways off, a smirk of pure satisfaction on his face, his left arm transformed into blades. Vash swallowed, pushing himself to his feet. Apparently, Knives felt free to use his power in this battle. He tightened his grip around the silver Colt, so hard that his hand began to tremble.

“What's the matter, brother? Are you afraid?” Knives sneered. “Are you going to give up so easily?”

Vash winced. “No. I'm not going to give up.”

Knives nodded, his lips curling further upward. “Good. Then let's continue, shall we?”

Vash fired, not waiting for Knives to make his move as he let loose round after round, ducking behind another tombstone in case Knives decided to retaliate. Huddling against it, Vash reloaded, snapping his gun shut before shooting again, firing from behind his cover. When the last shot had rung out, Vash paused, reaching for more ammo as he darted out, ready to charge at Knives.

Vash stopped abruptly, his eyes wide with shock. He…he caught them!

Knives leered at Vash. Whipping his Angel Blades around, the bullets Vash had just fired caught within the folds of the feather, Knives reformed them, his expression twisted with concentration as the feathers reformed, sucking the rounds in.

Those look like…oh no…GUNS!

“Pathetic,” Knives said derisively, aiming the makeshift guns at Vash.

Vash threw himself to the side, tumbling in the sand as bullets thumped in the ground next to him. He scrambled away, ducking and weaving throughout the graves. One whizzed by him, hot metal clipping his right arm. Vash gritted his teeth before rolling behind another boulder, gripping his injured limb.

He was getting nowhere with this. At this rate, Knives would tear Vash apart…literally. Reaching for more rounds, Vash sucked in his breath. He only had two left.

Damn it… What am I going to do?

Vash looked over the top of his shelter, sinking back down slowly as Knives walked steadily towards him, the black Colt in one hand, his other elongating in preparation to strike and destroy Vash's cover. His mind whirling, Vash tried to decide what to do.

I can't stand up to him with only my bullets. I need something more…

But that was the one thing Vash could not do. After being ill for weeks, unable to control his own abilities, using his power was not appealing at all. Still, what other choice did he have?

His face set and determined, Vash stood and fired, zeroing in on critical points before letting each bullet explode from the gun barrel. Not checking to see if one of his shots had made contact, Vash reloaded, darting forward, dodging Angel Blades whipping about him, some coming within inches of his moving form. Vash ducked underneath another blade, the wind whistling over his head. Righting himself, Vash aimed for the back of Knives head.

BANG!

Pausing just for a moment, Vash stood at ready, his Colt still aimed at Knives. The black Colt fell from Knives's fingers, hitting the sand with a dull thud, blood dripping onto its gleaming surface. Turning around, Knives's face twisted into a snarl, his right arm hanging limply by his side, a bullet hole in his shoulder.

Vash kept his sights trained on Knives, his face set and resolute. Knives narrowed his eyes, straightening as much as possible despite his injury. The Angel Blades quivered menacingly, but Vash did not budge. He would see this through.

“So,” Knives hissed, his voice harsh with anger, “you've disarmed me.”

“Knives…please…”

“No!” Knives shouted, bring his bladed limb up, poising himself to strike. “We will finish our battle, and this time, there will be a final conclusion! You've disarmed me,” he growled, “and now I'll return the favor!”

Knives charge forward, his Angels Blades in front of him as he dashed up to Vash. Bracing himself for impact, Vash fired once, twice, thrice, trying to stop Knives before he reached him. The bullets thudded uselessly against Knives's feathered arm before they came rushing back, all three hurtling past him. Vash quickly dodged the first two by twisted to the side, until he stubbed his toe on something and tripped, falling to the ground. He tumbled a small ways before coming to a halt, noticing immediately that something was missing.

I dropped my gun!

It had skidded off a few yarz away. Vash scrambled to his feet in a desperate move to retrieve it when something slammed into his back, knocking him head over heels before landing once more in the sand.

Vash rolled over on his back, spitting out sand and grit before he stopped, his heart in his throat. Knives stood over him, breathing heavily, a bladed tendril a mere few inches away from Vash's neck. Staring up at his brother, Vash froze, unsure what to do, while Knives looked down Vash disdainfully. Then, without warning, he kicked Vash violently in the side.

Vash gasped with pain, coughing as he clutched his side, rolling onto his knees. Knives shoved him over with his foot, planting his heel on Vash's chest, shoving the blade close to Vash's face. He narrowed his eyes, his features contorted with disgust.

“Well, Vash. You fought well enough, considering how long you were ill,” Knives said high-handedly. “However,” he continued, “it would appear that I've won this little spat.”

Squirming a bit underneath Knives, possibilities raced through Vash's mind. What can I do? What can I DO? I can't get to my gun. And…I can't…my power…what if I lose control again?

Knives cocked a brow. “Nothing to say?” He leaned forward, his nose inches away from Vash's, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “It's been a while, hasn't it, Vash? Since those days…before you shot me…”

Vash went cold, feeling as though he had been dropped in a bucket of ice water. He could not believe that Knives was bringing that up now. Those days…the sheer level of warmth radiating across the desert, causing heat waves within the very air itself…

Vash remembered with a shiver, the blade nicking the edge of his skin. It was a splinter that refused to be removed, even after all these years. Guilt. For that one decade where he had followed Knives, hoping beyond hope that he would be able to somehow change Knives's mind about humans, things had happened.

He could still see the twisted corpses of a refugee group of humans that Knives had found first, the stench overpowering in the stifling heat. Vash could remember the harsh grating of sand against his skin, the stench of sweat that slicked the inside of his suit, and licking his salty mouth dry. The tears had evaporated off his face before he could wipe them away, all the while Knives telling Vash how much they had deserved it…

I let it happen. I let Knives do what he wanted then. I did nothing about it, hoping …just…hoping that something, somehow would change his mind. But nothing did. Ever. But now…what is he saying to me? That he wants to go back to that?

“Knives…what're you-?”

“Do you miss those times?” Knives asked shrewdly, his breath tickling Vash's cheeks.

Too close…!

“No! No, I don't!” Vash choked out, his fists clenching, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

“Really?” Knives said, his expression mocking, leaning even closer…

BANG!

Knives jerked away from Vash as a small bullet whizzed by, clipping Knives's other cheek, a trickle of blood running down his face. Vash looked wildly around for the source, his heart almost stopping with horror when he saw a short figure framing the hole in the SEEDs ship's hull.

Meryl Stryfe stood in the entryway, a derringer in each hand and one at her feet, smoking faintly. Her face was pale with fright but determined. Vash gaped at her, dumbstruck over why she would do such a thing.

Why is she here? I told her to wait for me! What have you done, Meryl? Vash thought frantically.

“I see…” Knives grated. “It's her, isn't it, brother? All these pathetic humans. I wonder,” he snapped, “what would happen if I annihilated them all. What would you do then?”

“KNIVES, NO!!!” Vash screamed, his throat tearing as he scrambled to his feet.

Ignoring his brother, Knives turned, a cruel smile etched across his face. “Why don't I finish what I started all those weeks ago, you stunted human?”

With that, Knives charged forward, his Angels Blades held at ready. Vash sprung away and began to run full blast for Meryl, his legs burning with the effort as he desperately tried to intercept Knives's attack.

The whole world slowed, everything moving in slow motion as Meryl fired her derringers. Her eyes widened with shock when they were caught the feathers caught them. Turning on her heel, she began to run...as Knives lifted his blades to strike…

NO!

Blade and tendril clashed, feathers flying everywhere as Vash saw Knives's eyes widened with surprise. Vash pushed back, his right arm writhing as wings sprouted, whipping about violently. Knives began to give way, his feet sliding backwards bit by bit as Vash continued to press on, small feathers sprouting on his face, causing his sunglasses to crack and break off his face.

“You…you fool!” Knives snapped, livid. “YOU'RE GOING TO LOSE CONTROL!”

Knives tackled Vash to the ground, piercing Vash through the right arm. Vash looked up in a daze, noting absently that there was no pain. Knives stared down at Vash, his face twisted with disgust.

“I've been trying to settle things with you for a very long time... But it looks like the struggle is finally over. Let's end this. It can't be helped,” he rasped. “I'll meld with you. At least you can live on within me... VASH!”

Heat began to lance up Vash right arm, spreading from the puncture. His eyes widened in terror, his limbs rigid. Something was pulling him. Pulling so hard, it felt like it would surely yank him from his body. His mouth opened in a silent scream as the sensation spread across his entire body. He squeezed his shut, his entire body on fire.

“No…”

Vash's eyes snapped open. Knives was hovering above him, his face ashen, his gaze locked onto Vash's right arm. Vash looked down, bile rising on his tongue as he saw the place where their two Angel Arms were…

…MERGING?

Vash watched, dumbstruck, as the two feathered limbs began to pull towards each other, or more specifically, towards him. Knives shrieked, his body crackling as his body shifted, twisting into odd positions, loud cracking noise increasing in volume as Knives's form contorted into an uneven mass, an inhuman howl resounding across the sea of graves. And Vash realized that it was not Knives's voice. It was his own.

Vash began to spasm, his body jerking as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. The pain was indescribable as bones, muscles, tendons, and ligaments convulsed, condensing so much that Vash thought he would be ground to a pulp because of the pressure. All the while, the Knives “mass” came closer and closer until they touched…

…and then the bulk pierced his body, digging deeper and deeper into him, rearranging his body's composition.

Vash screamed then, the excruciating pain overpowering him as the world went dark…

. . . .

`Where…what is this…?'

. . . .

`Who…who's there…?'

. . . .

“Vash…Vash…wake up…!”

Groaning loudly, Vash's eyes slipped open. His entire body ached, his side, his arm, and his shoulder throbbing painfully. His vision focused, finding a certain Insurance Girl leaning over him, her face pale yet relieved upon seeing him wake up.

Pushing himself onto his elbows, he sucked in his breath, falling backwards once more. Meryl caught him, laying him back down gently, worry in her eyes. Vash took a deep breath, trying to get his bearings.

What…what happened?

His eyes widened. “Meryl! Where's Knives?” he asked, alarmed.

Meryl blinked, looking down, not meeting his gaze. “He…”

Vash grabbed her arm, wincing with pain, but he did not let go. “What happened?”

“He's…gone…”

He stared at her. “W-what do you mean? Gone?”

Meryl shook her head. “Just what I said.”

“What happened?” he demanded.

She bit her lip. “He…he…was leaning over you and…you…merged…”

Vash gaped at her. “We…what?”

“There was this blinding flash of light…and when it faded…you were here, but he was…gone…”

 

 

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!