Chapter 6

Spoilers: Manga: Trigun Maximum 2

Between the various manifestations of pain there was a tension. The physical pain of injuries and the emotional pain of loss and fear rested in balance, one with the other. However, at times, all the pain crowded on one side of the scale to weight against the worst pain of all, the possibility of hope. It was a time like that now.

Vash huddled against the hard bench of the small cable car. He appreciated the company. Wolfwood was there with him, and he always enjoyed a place better when he had someone to share it with, to view it afresh through their perception. He was in an odd mood. This was too soon to return, and considering the circumstances with Knives and his gang abroad, exceedingly dangerous. Yet Rei-Dei's threat had given him no choice. It was a classic catch twenty-two, he would lose both ways; he knew the game well enough. He just had to take the path that lead to the least loss. His heart broke all over again, but he caught the pieces with the expertise of one who knew that if he could hold the state of collapse long enough it would begin to heal slightly. No! He could do this. The smile worked, but he didn't feel like smiling. Then Wolfwood asked him the most inane question and it unearthed his innate silliness. There were other ways of dispersing the discontent. He eyed his friend and with an air of nonchalance, dug his finger into his nose and airily dismissed Wolfwood's question. Hah! That hit just the right nerve in Wolfwood! Ow! Ow! Ow! It was odd how having the irate priest pound him was better pain than what he felt.

He had been against travelling to Tonim Town, but Wolfwood had persistently headed there. Vash knew the behaviour well enough to guess what was driving him. His brother had somehow subjugated the man. In some way or other Knives had influenced everyone on the entire planet, including him. Redemption from such entrapment certainly did not begin by accusing another of it. Such things people had to work out for themselves. They were stronger and surer of their future when they did. No, he would do what he always did, walk alongside and travel the lost roads of the soul yet again. No matter how many times he walked, there was always a new path. It was the old path, but trod in different boots, behind another's tracks, it was new. Perhaps one day the new path would become, not familiar, but purposeful. His entire being utterly shied away from that. Purpose would mean facing the truth, the greatest reality: he would have to face his brother. His soul turned from the greater path and trod the lesser; it was all he could do now. He was strong, he knew he was, but was he strong enough for that test? He hunched his shoulders slightly as his past failures in conflict with his brother marched relentlessly across his mind.

Wolfwood was sulking, and making odd remarks about life and death. He was oddly enigmatic on certain topics, such as Knives, and why he held so strongly to his belief that killing was the answer. Vash fidgeted on the bench, his arm still hurt where Wolfwood had hit him. The priest knew Knives, and had done everything to avoid answering the questions he had asked, including allowing him to drive his beloved bike. Vash marvelled at how distracted and irritated the priest must have been to come up with that. He had told him he could not drive, but only an exhibition of his appalling skills had convinced Wolfwood that the sidecar -with a supply of tasty doughnuts- was the place for him. Not that Wolfwood had done any better, he thought wryly. Vash had intermittent memories of the accident. It worried him that such a thing could so easily put him out of action. He had to make it through to face his brother. Had that been yet another test of his strength, or was it a block to show he was not yet ready? Was it cowardice to choose the latter? Or was it wisdom? He blinked, catching Wolfwood's latest remark. The priest had taken his recovery from the accident, and subsequent near misses, to mean that he was somehow un-killable? No! That was not a good rumour to be spreading about! He laughed it off.

Yes, he was returning home. Or as close to home as he could get. Not for the first time he wondered where on the planet the mother ship had landed, or if it had burned up in the atmosphere. He would have liked to be able to take geraniums to Rem's grave. He felt as though he had been punched in the gut at that thought. No, no. It was good he did not know. He doubted he would be able to leave such a place if he ever found it. He would, he was almost sure, but his tired, aching and lonely heart wavered even now. He was almost relieved that he would never have to endure that testing. He tried to explain the situation to Wolfwood. The priest misunderstood his life at such a basic level, and Vash had to let him, as did to everyone. He could not explain the epic conflict between himself and his brother, mostly because he only half understood it himself. Thus, people misunderstood him, his resolve, his love, his search for peace, and he wavered between doubt and determination. The priest compared Vash's way of life to his own; how he had to protect the orphans. As comparisons went, it was one of the few that came closest to the depth and complexity of Vash's own reality. However, his orphans were the population of the entire planet, which included Wolfwood. No, he could not say that. It would offend Wolfwood at the very least, and at best, it would give him too dangerous an insight into the truth of the world. Vash knew his heart could not cope with it, and even now, his mind shied away from the idea, it would not do to have Wolfwood's eager inquiring mind chewing it over.

He felt his heart lift as Wolfwood stared out the window at the ship floating in the sea of sand. There it was the awe and astonishment that he felt anew. It was a miracle this place. Gazing at it himself, he felt his heart lift unbidden by his own will. He was home. He stood as the cable car hummed on its cable and swung into the station. They alighted on the platform and walked down the stairs, Vash could not help his eager swift pace. The way his boots echoed on the metal, the smell of the place. It soothed his soul, yet drove up a wild torment that he could hardly contain. Knives. Knives had driven him here, with a deliberate remark by one of his minions. Yet, did Knives not know what home was? The comfort? He gazed at his brother in his mind's eye, trying to show him the ethereal concepts of protection, trust, safety and faith. Oh, his brother knew that, and knew the agony of having that wrenched from him. He had not been strong enough to live through the pain to begin to rebuild the trust needed to restore faith. Vash clenched his fist against the pain then. He so badly wanted to hug his brother then, and to share his strength until his brother could grow into his own. He gazed up at the large doors that sealed off the dust of the outside. Not only was his concern for the ship dwellers tearing him apart, but the fate of his brother's heart.

The doors opened and he felt nothing at first. It was an illusion dancing before his eyes. The relief that washed over him on seeing all the people alive and well drove him to his knees. Ah, for once, he could allow the hope to tip the scales. He blinked and breathed out. Love and peace, yes, that was what he believed, and hope was a necessary by-product. He wryly scolded himself, how could he continue his mission of spreading love and peace, if he so easily forgot? His own doubting soul was sometimes the most aggravating person he knew.