"Ah, welcome to my plush quarters, dear brother." Knives' voice rang clearly in Vash's mind to punctuate the click of the door closing the twins in. "Come to force slop down my throat and clean waste from me? Is it teatime already?"

"It's five in the afternoon," Vash corrected, setting a bucket of water, towels, and jars of both disinfectant and pureed food upon the cold, concrete floor.

"A thousand pardons. I haven't a window, nor the power to lift my lids to see through such a thing," his brother hissed back telepathically.

"Should I sympathize? You're alive. After what you did to Aires, and to all the other people you've killed, you ought to be dead, yourself."

"Is that a threat, dear brother?"

"Hmph."

After a pause, Knives asked, "How long am I to lie here, enduring your insolence?"

Vash was silent, working at the tasks he hated.

"You don't intend to keep me in this state indefinitely..."

"Why not? You don't deserve freedom; this is the only prison that'll hold you."

"Planning to remain on this planet as my jailer?" Knives mocked.

"Maybe so." Vash glared at his incapacitated twin. For a moment, he bit his tongue, holding back words he didn't want her overhearing. The door was solid between them, but those strange ears of hers gave her piqued hearing they knew not the limitations of. Nevertheless, Vash wanted to say these things. As much as he hated using telepathy, he needed to say them, and though he barely admitted it to himself, he wanted to savor whatever further discomfort he could cause his brother. He switched to speaking in this unnatural manner before continuing, "Don't think for a moment she's staying."

"She will. It's not in her best interests to go and she knows that."

He shrugged dismissively and tugged a clean sheet between Knives and the chair. "Whether she wants to or not, she's escaping with my friends."

Knives' tone was seeped in genuine concern when he argued, "You can't condemn her to that."

"She would be safe. From you." Vash frowned at his prone brother, staring at his unmoving form, waiting for the reply.

"That was an accident," Knives finally snapped. "You can't think I did that on purpose." His voice softened, and he added very slowly, "Brother, does she heal well?"

"I refuse to tell you how she's doing, as though you've a right to ask."

"At least grant me the knowledge of how fully she'll recover."

Vash almost responded honestly, that he didn't know the answer to that, but the thought of her blood, her cuts, her eyes stoked the fire of his anger. "I won't grant you anything."

"Suit yourself; play this game. I don't believe I need your input, as it is, you make it a point to subject me to a variety of noises. Such sounds prove how healthy she must be."

His twin clenched his teeth.

"You are ashamed of how you mistreat me. But you needn't admit it, we can move on. Her welfare is, to me, more important than your petty revenge. You must learn to see past yourself, for her sake. You've studied her scars as well, by now, haven't you? You see in them how poorly she fares amongst the humans. It would be far too cruel to abandon her, helpless, without a weapon. She's a clever thing; she won't board if she doesn't want to."

"Let me worry about that."

"Ah. Another reason she won't leave," Knives replied in mind, sounding suddenly amused. "The promise she made to me."

"Uh, huh."

"You are so impudent because you hold her attentions...for the moment. Fine. But you should know she is not yours." Somehow his transmitted words sounded as though delivered through a grin. "When we were together, do you know what she offered me? She said she would-"

"Shut up. I don't care."

"Yes, you do. I'll leave you to your imagination. My point – if I hadn't turned her down, she would have. She was willing to do anything." He repeated, "Anything."

"I said, shut up," Vash sneered aloud. He clicked a fingernail against the glass vial of a syringe, in a threat to make him silent by way of complete unconsciousness if he wanted to. Switching back to telepathy, he continued, "She's probably told you a lot of things you wanted to hear."

"Those weren't empty words-"

"When she thought it'd keep you from being a genocidal maniac, yeah, I'm sure she meant whatever she told you. If you didn't take advantage of that? Well. Guess you're a better man than I took you for."

"The offer I couldn't refuse was her promise to bear my offspring. She swore to it, so she will hold up her end of the bargain, as I will mine."

Vash's hands paused in place.

"Oh, poor Vash, I've hurt your feelings – but it's sensible, you know, that she wouldn't want to bear the children of a broken fool."

Vash finally asked, "What did she say, exactly?"

"She promised to allow me to make as many sentient plants with her body that I can, so long as I wait till the humans are gone. Why are you laughing?"

Rubbing his hand through his spiky hair, Vash lifted his gaze to his brother. Sighing, he dropped his hands to his knees. "She's infertile. Didn't tell you that, did she."

"...Nonsense."

"Think over her wording. Not quite lying, not showing all her cards, either. You don't have a monopoly on clever."

OXO

Vash couldn't be sure his brother knew the ships had landed, but he could fairly safely assume he did.

The ships touched down with little sound or disturbance of land beside a great rushing wind. The population, however, boomed. In their celebration, thousands fired guns into the air, hooted and hollered, drank and sang, and generally very loudly marked the occasion. Most bars and brewers were giving away their wares at a discount, as were whorehouses. This was a time of great confusion and no small amount of fear of the unknown.

More powerful than those concerns was the great wash of hope. Never had the people of this planet felt something so wonderful as the hope of a life not daily-centered upon survival. Men elsewhere, on other planets, they were comfortable and safe. Every other man out there was living like a king. Soon, they would as well.

For two solid days after touchdown, the population of Gunsmoke gathered, swelled, and celebrated. They surged moreso to the city, bursting the established borders with a hodge-podge of refugee campgrounds. The murder rate plummeted, as the giddiness of the moment caused many to forget what low and dirty scum they were. A non-stop party such as this was an uplifting thing and every man, woman, and child felt inherently more good a person to be a part of it.

Vanessa was so tense in the din of noise she could hardly sleep. Vash could hardly rest either, but for him it was more excitement than fear. He wished he could join the fray outside in their merriment. What joy he heard outside! But he had responsibilities, duties, and guilts which held him indoors.

He felt with certainty that Knives knew the ships had arrived. But Knives said nothing. Since the touchdown, Knives communicated not a thing telepathically. Vash kept him on the same regimen of medication, and knew his brother was conscious. This meant Knives chose to be silent, and Vash did his best to consider that a blessing.

In fact, there were moments, hours at a time where Vash forgot about his brother entirely and blissfully held Vanessa in his arms. She did them both the favor of not bringing up the man in the next room or asking any questions about his medication. He assured her everything would be wonderful, that he would keep her safe, that she meant so much to him and things would be so much better one day. They lay in bed talking, resting, exploring one another most of those two days. In many ways, Vash considered them to be two of the most simply pleasant days of his life. It was boring in the best way, and he savored every moment.

In the wee morning hours of the next day, exhaustion began to set in about the city. The non-stop celebrating took a lot out of people and December calmed down as a whole once the thousands surrendered to slumber. By first-noon, Vash was cheerily preparing a lunch of root vegetables and canned chicken at the stovetop. He found himself glancing over his shoulder, over and up toward the door. His thoughts were on his friends, whom he hoped he would see again, soon. Yes, he assured himself, soon it would be fine for him to have more people in his life than only Vanessa, and shortly thereafter he dared hope he would be less a brother's company as well. Like all of December, he was unsure of the future but brimming with hope all the same.