A/N: This was supposed to be the last chapter, but it became too long to post in one shot, so there'll be one more chapter after this one.

Reflections on a Peacemaker

III. Reticence

In preparation for my upcoming training, I pored over the ship's computer records for anything regarding the history and use of firearms. I learned that my own gun was a Colt type, which had an inverted barrel and ejected six .45 Long bullets. In addition to being a six-shooter, it was also a semi-automatic, which meant I'd be able to fire shots in quick succession. Looking over Knives's gun, I saw that it was the exact same model, just in black.

I decided from the outset that I would not practice with Knives's gun. I would have enough trouble mastering the one I had, and something about it seemed to – reject me, anyway. Which was fine by me. Sensei had a black leather suit made up for me, complete with its own holster, which we decided I would wear for every training session.

On my first day, I wasn't sure what to expect. I kept the silver gun placed firmly inside my holster so that I wouldn't have to touch it, even though I knew that ran completely counter to my new mission; and I went out to meet Sensei in the ship's sprawling main hallway. He led me to a part of the ship I hadn't yet explored.

"Obviously, I've had quite a bit of time to look around here," he said, as we walked down seemingly endless corridors. "But imagine my surprise when I found this!"

He palmed the keypad next to a rather imposing-looking door, and we walked through. I was taken aback at the sight that awaited me on the other side: a virtual training environment, where I could get in as much practice as I wanted without hurting anyone. It was a football stadium-length field, populated with rocks, chunks of destroyed buildings, and loops of chain-wire fencing. It was most likely meant to resemble a war-torn desert town on Earth, but it would serve my purposes perfectly. From the looks of it, the environment had already been activated. A bright light shone down on the platform, and I could already see ghostly figures dressed in military garb milling about: my virtual enemies.

"Sensei," I said, concerned. "What would a military training field be doing on a civilian ship?"

"I couldn't tell you," he replied. "Perhaps the governments of Earth decided to install it in case of just such a contingency."

"You mean the Fall?"

Sensei nodded. "Yes. However, after I found it, we all took a vote, and – to a man – we decided that we would not make use of it. Mostly to preserve the energy of the plant, but also because... well, we're a peace-loving people, and none of us really felt comfortable learning how to use a gun." He looked contrite at this last statement, and the expression on his face clearly conveyed the message: I am a hypocrite.

"I don't blame you," I said. And really, I didn't.

"How do I shoot with the Colt?" I asked after looking around a few moments longer. "I wouldn't think it would work with something like this..."

"Well, I did a little something for you," Sensei said, sounding pleased. "I rewrote the program to accept your weapon for use in virtual training. You'll be able to use it just like a pre-calibrated laser gun." Another of those strange humanoid shapes appeared to our right. Sensei motioned for me to take up the Colt. "Try dry-firing at the target, Vash. You'll see what I mean."

I aimed the unloaded gun at the target, whose form had now fully resolved into a man. I adjusted the sight to focus on his shoulder, then pulled the trigger once. The man screamed and fell over, then vanished. I'd struck him in the heart.

Sensei beamed. "Incredible, isn't it?"

"No," I said bitterly. "I killed him."

"Vash, you mustn't take a mistake to heart," Sensei said gently. "None of this is real. You must practice so that this does not happen when you return to the planet."

"Well, it would help if my aim didn't suck."

"You'll get better. Trust me." Sensei tipped me a wink. "Your weapon is quite remarkable, you know. Because it contains some of your own DNA, I imagine that you will become accustomed to it very quickly."

"It's not my weapon," I said, sounding irritable and hating myself for it. Sensei was just trying to help me out, and I was being a jerk. "It's just... something I have to use to beat Knives," I murmured.

"I'm afraid that is the wrong attitude to take, Vash," Sensei said sadly. "Believe me, with all the wonderful things that mankind chose to bring with them to the stars, I wish that they had not decided to bring guns. But they are a reality now, and we must make the most responsible decisions with them that we can."

"I guess so," I said.

Much to my surprise – and disgust – I did get better. I absorbed in a few weeks what most men took months to figure out: things like double- and single-handed shooting techniques, how to duck and feint, and gun spinning (mostly to confuse my opponents, but also just because). I also employed mathematical equations and tried to figure out bullet trajectories on the spot, with a healthy amount of success. It soon got so that I was shooting the wings off the little virtual flies that occasionally buzzed across the perimeter of the training field (just for practice, though. I'd never hurt real flies!). Each day the Colt felt less heavy within my grip, and I was able to maneuver it as seamlessly as if it was an extension of my own body. Sensei often came out to remark on my progress, or bring me meals, because a lot of times I didn't think to eat.

"It's amazing just how superior plants are when it comes to speed and strength," he said one day, after I'd "killed" four men in one shot (which sickened me at first, until I reminded myself that Knives was probably practicing on real people). "I've often wondered, if a plant were able to survive outside of her bulb, just how she would fare in that particular area."

It's true – I was becoming a regular pistolero. And that made me feel miserable. I just couldn't accept that I was getting to know this gun as much as it was getting to know me (if that makes any sense). It didn't match the image I had of myself. I was certain that somewhere, Rem was disappointed in me.

In my research on firearms, I ended up coming across a children's book about a lion named Lafcadio, who discovers a gun in the jungle, and subsequently decides to practice shooting until he's the best sharpshooter in the world. He makes a name for himself with his incredible marksmanship and begins living among humans, where he entertains governments, signs autographs, and eats marshmallows for every meal. At the end of the story, Lafcadio is forced to choose between returning to the jungle or keeping on with the new human life he's made for himself. Unable to make a choice, he puts down the gun and walks away, feeling that he doesn't belong anywhere anymore.

I felt just like Lafcadio (and not just because I loved marshmallows, too). I just... didn't know who I was. I wanted to ease the suffering of the people living on the sandy planet far below, but I just felt like a killer instead. I wanted to follow in Rem's path and share the values of Love and Peace (as they'd come to be codified in my mind), but there was a part of me that was absolutely fascinated with guns: their properties, how they were crafted, things like that. I was scared that every day I was becoming more like Knives.

And right when I began to despair, that's when I started winning fights without killing anyone.

The computer that oversaw the VR training program offered varying levels of difficulty, and I generally kept to the easiest one, only proceeding to the next level if I felt comfortable enough with whatever I was trying to master. It was right around the time I was trying to improve my ricochet technique – felling the ghost people left and right with a slew of bouncing bullets, until none remained standing – when the computer had a message for me.

"CONGRATULATIONS." I started at the creepy voice that boomed from the speakers above me. "VICTORY ATTAINED WITH NO CASUALTIES."

I couldn't believe it. It had to be a fluke... right?

I re-ran the simulation, and the ghosts converged on me again. Just as I'd done before, I hit the ground and shot three times at an adjacent building. My calculations were correct, my aim true; and within moments, the ghosts were knocked flat on the ground, groaning and rubbing their wounds, but... alive.

Alive!

I raced into the dinner hall, shocking everyone. My appearance was disheveled, and I looked like a maniac.

"Sensei! I did it!" My voice was breathless from excitement. Even a few days ago I wouldn't have been that enthusiastic about my progress. It was a sign of how the training was changing me, little by little. "I beat the simulation, and I didn't have to kill anyone to do it!"

Sensei put down his fork and smiled with approval. "Excellent work, Vash. Now all you have to do is achieve the same results for each difficulty level, and I believe you'll be ready. ...But before you take off, why don't you try some of the chicken marsala?" he said, offering me a dish. "You look like you haven't eaten in days."

"Don't mind if I do," I laughed, taking a seat next to him and digging in. For the first time in forever, I was starting to feel – well, if not great, then at least pretty okay about what I was doing. The next day, I returned to training with a vengeance.

The difficulty level increased a little every day, but so did my proficiency on the battlefield. It was my positivity that didn't last. Despite how well I was doing, I was still experiencing mental blocks. Would I really be able to master the final level without killing anyone? And even if I did, would I be ready to do any of this for real?

The day of reckoning came sooner rather than later. A mere week and a half later, I was keying in the access code for the most difficult practice level of all. I was also wearing the red coat. I figured it was about time to see if I was worthy to wear it, to be Rem's standard-bearer out there in the harsh desert wilderness. And although I'm not really superstitious, I felt that it imparted at least a little bit of strength to me.

This particular level featured putting me up against an entire platoon of heavily armed – and heavily experienced – virtual soldiers. It was never meant for one person to undertake on their own; but rather, for a team of equal experience and numbers. I almost laughed as I read the description on the computer panel. When in the hell would I ever be facing down that many people, anyway? (Oh, how very wrong I was. Over a hundred years later, and I'd be evading entire freaking towns wanting to collect the bounty on my head.) I confirmed the parameters, then went to stand in the center of the training field.

I was immediately accosted by about forty ghostly soldiers: they poured in from the sky, from behind abandoned buildings, and over tall wire fences. I brandished the Colt and went to work.

I'd learned the lay of the land very well, and used most of the obstacles to my advantage. I leaped from rock to rock, firing shots and being careful not to let anyone touch me – or to get shot myself – since that resulted in me losing artificial health. The computer would only let my gun "reload" (so to speak) twice, so I tried to make every shot count. There was a scary moment when I almost took a guy's head off, but it ended up being okay – the ricochet effect that I'd intended when I made the shot resulted in the bullet striking the leg of his partner instead. I tried not to expend too much energy early on, and monitored the attack patterns of each soldier, identifying in seconds at what moments or in which places I should fire. I brought everything that I had ever learned to bear in this single training exercise.

Fifteen minutes later, and I'd succeeded in either immobilizing or disarming every soldier that had pursued me. All without taking a single life, and all with the use of my gun. The computer congratulated me on my success.

And yet I wasn't happy.

"I won," I said to the empty air, despondent. "So why... why don't I feel different?"

"That's simple," replied a gentle, beautiful, terrifying voice. It floated out of the darkness in a corner of the chamber like notes tinkling on a piano. "You haven't yet faced anyone on your own level. How can you feel ready to take on the outside world when the only ones you've defeated are those weaker than yourself?" I whirled around, and there I saw –

"Rem," I said, all the breath leaving my body at once, so that it didn't even sound like I was saying her name, just choking on it like a beached fish. Rem stood there, tall and beautiful and utterly unconcerned with my reaction. She had not changed one iota from how I remembered her, except for one thing.

She was holding Knives's black revolver in her left hand. She raised it now and continued to smile, like we were just having another one of our philosophy discussions over tea. Words left me, and my heart dropped into the pit of my stomach with the force of a stone. I stared into the eyes of the woman who had raised me as her very own child.

"Hello, Vash. It's been a while."