DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.
Lyrics from "Midnight Train", by Guy Forsyth
Make it Back
Vash had never realized how heavy his brother could be.
Unlike Wolfwood's Punisher, though, he wasn't full of mercy.
Physically speaking, it could be argued that Knives simply seemed heavy; if you carried it in your hand long enough without setting it down, even a 2-kilo rock would feel pretty damn heavy. Imagine carrying a full-grown man over your shoulder without setting him down, muscles never getting enough rest, burning through their fuel reserves to meet the demands placed on them.
Physics be damned, his body screamed at him that Knives was heavy. His mind snarled at his body to shut up and do as it was told. He overrode all the pain signals, soldiering on. Just had to keep moving…
As he walked the long distance, Vash wondered if there was some truth to the spiritual side of things. Maybe a cross could be made heavier because it was full of mercy. Maybe Knives had some extra weight on him because of all the hatred and spite he packed in.
There was a lot of work to do if Vash was going to convince Knives he'd been mistaken in his views. It would take a long time to get rid of hatred that had had a long time to ingrain itself. And Knives had a lot of evidence in his favor.
Vash wouldn't give up. He had his own evidence, his own experience, that people could change. He'd seen it happen before his eyes. People like Legato, like Knives, they could change; it just took more time and effort.
He'd watched Frank Marlon set aside the bottle to defend his neighbors. Watched Ingway spare the life of Grim Reaper Bostalk, a man whose murder would have been understandable – not quite, but almost justifiable – under the circumstances. Watched Kite change course midway through the consequences of a bad decision. He'd watched as Meryl showed a man that killing wouldn't change anything.
Meryl.
Knives could point at Vash. He'd broken Rem's belief that no one ever had the right to take the life of another. He could never erase that.
But if Knives could point at Vash, Vash could point at Meryl. She had shown him that even though a sin can't be erased, it can be moved past. She had put herself in the line of fire for him. She had saved him.
As Meryl had saved Vash, so he would save Knives. He would help Knives move past his sins.
If he ever made it back. Jeez, Knives must weigh a ton.
Once, Vash thought they'd made it. His heart swelled, and he ran for the sight of the town – only to realize he'd been running for a mirage. His hope faded with his energy, and he began to sink down. If he'd had the water for it, he would have cried. One knee hit the ground.
Everything was so dry. So hot. His lips were cracked, his mouth dry. The water he'd brought with him was long gone. He'd tossed the canteen just to be rid of the few extra ounces of weight. He didn't have any sweat left in him.
He just needed to rest. All he needed to do was just lie down and rest…
"I love you."
Meryl had actually said it. He'd been starting to think she'd never say it; he'd been waiting for her to ever since that night back in his room, when she saw his scar-covered body and quietly said she wouldn't run away. She'd thought he hadn't heard her as she rapidly covered her slip, but he had. He'd known then that he loved her, and wanted a chance with her. The life of Vash the Stampede was too dangerous to allow for the Romantic Adventures of Vash and Meryl, but if he ever got things settled with Knives, he'd like a chance…
Then, as he was leaving to face his brother, she ran and pulled him into a tight hug. Whispered fiercely in his ear, "I love you," and gave him an electrifying goodbye kiss. She left tears behind as she ran back in the house.
For Meryl…
Vash breathed, gathered his strength, and pushed off the ground. He grunted with the effort, and his standing knee threatened to buckle on him…
For Meryl, he would make it back.
He pushed harder, ignoring the pain, and slowly he managed to stand up fully.
Damn, that was hard. Had to be done, though. Knives couldn't be saved if he died out here. And if he died, he'd never get to find out what could happen with him and Meryl.
One foot in front of the other. Lift the other knee, move the leg, put the foot down. One foot in front of the other. Left…right…left…right… Inch by inch, foot by foot, he made progress through the desert. His clothes, once drenched with sweat, were now dry from the sun. Give it enough time, and the color would start to leach from them.
Don't think about that. Don't think about the weight of Knives. Think about anything else but the pain.
Think of Meryl. Feel that last kiss. She sure as hell waited long enough. Waited right up until he was walking away.
He laughed, at this point a hoarse, choking sound. Thinking about their last moments together made him think of a song he'd heard in a bar a long time ago, about much the same kind of thing. He pictured Meryl as he forced the words out.
"She told me that she loved me
Just before I had to go away…"
What the hell was the rest of it? He racked his brain.
"She told me that she loved me
Just like I'm singing here today
Ever since then, I've been in love
With the girl who said she loved me when I had to go away."
He coughed. Singing would help pass the time, but it hurt too much. Still, though, it did fit.
Vash was definitely in love with the girl who said she loved him when he had to go away.
He sighed, smiling in spite of the pain his body was in, and kept walking. Kept walking to her.