The training continued through the afternoon, and, staying true to his word, Knives left Kira to her own devices. Since she had proven that she could survive the mental load, he instructed the rest of their party not to shield their minds. He also continued to intermittently pester and prod her. Unfortunately, that led to a heated telepathic argument with Vash about pushing her too hard, which brought up an entire host of disagreements on how they should train her.
The short-sighted fool refused to back down, until Knives agreed, grudgingly, to at least leave her in peace for the first few days.
Which was such a stupid plan.
But…
He supposed he'd have to compromise somewhere.
Honestly, he couldn't understand why Vash disagreed with his method. Sure, putting so much pressure on her at the start might seem callous, but it was in her best interest. She had an enormously steep hill to climb, and if they coddled her now, it would only make the inevitable slips and falls later more painful. She needed to experience the situation as it really was.
She was strong. He was sure she could handle it.
x.x.x.x.x
They stopped when the suns reached the horizon. Meryl and Vash dug into the rations and prepared dinner while the others decided on sleeping arrangements. Knives was to share a room with his brother, and the soldiers quickly organized a rotation to ensure that he would be under guard at all times. The constant surveillance would be a little stifling, but at least he'd been allowed to come along. And they finally agreed to remove his cuffs, thanks to indignant demands from Lark and Gray. He still wasn't quite sure what he'd done to garner the doctors' good favor, but he was certainly glad to have them as allies.
Kira would be sharing quarters with Meryl and Millie.
He watched her from across the open living area, which had unofficially been designated as the 'lab.' She sat at the dinner table while the doctors removed the last of the diodes. Once they were finished, she slumped forward, her head cradled by her crossed arms, oblivious to the bustling activity that surrounded her. Knives felt a twinge of sympathy. She was clearly exhausted. And they'd barely begun.
He walked over and stood just behind her, a hand resting on her chair, while his current guard watched him like a hawk.
They had decided to remain discreet since they would be under such close observation, but now that they were actually here, it seemed like a terrible plan. It was going to be damn difficult not to take advantage of moments like this—when she wasn't covered in diodes, struggling against her telepathy.
Besides, he was pretty sure that everyone here already knew the nature of their relationship.
He cast a sidelong glance at the guard.
Fuck it.
He reached down and began rubbing the tense muscles of her neck and shoulders. She sat up with a surprised gasp and looked back at him. He offered a rueful shrug, hoping she wasn't too pissed that he was already spoiling their agreed-upon strategy.
To his relief, she simply smirked and shook her head in mocking disdain. Aside from that, she nestled down again with a happy sigh as he continued his ministrations.
Yes. This was a much better plan.
x.x.x.x.x
A handful of days crawled by as Kira doggedly developed her skills. Her recovery time showed the most improvement—it only took her a second or two to regain control now. The length of time between slipups was also increasing at a good pace. Unfortunately, it still took a good deal of focus for her to maintain her shield.
As he suspected…
That wouldn't do.
He glanced around. Vash was sitting on the floor, playing cards with three of the soldiers—the fourth was absent, resting up for the night shift. Meryl and Millie were at the table, interviewing Lark and Gray about the project. Millie had one camera on the doctors, while a second was perpetually aimed at Kira, who was sitting alone, hunched forward in a chair, her eyes clenched tightly shut.
The girls had promised not to include footage of Knives in the final cut, but also requested that he stay offscreen as much as possible.
Oh well. They'd just have to edit this part.
He needed to know the state of things.
He walked over to Kira and trailed a hand across her back. She let out a startled yelp, and then hissed as she fought to regain control. Once she was steady, she threw a reproachful scowl his way, and then slammed her eyes shut, hiding herself away again.
Yes. He thought that might be a problem.
He couldn't help but empathize. He remembered the difficulty—the struggle—when he had to master all of this. He remembered the intense focus, and how the smallest disruption would completely upset his concentration.
He knew what she was going through, and there was only one way to fix it.
He looked over at Vash, whose attention had been drawn by the commotion, and raised a brow. At the unspoken enquiry, Vash let out a heavy sigh and nodded grimly. It was time to move on to the next stage of training.
And she wasn't going to like it…
x.x.x.x.x
Knives spent the rest of the afternoon nudging Kira, murmuring to her, and generally trying to draw her attention any way he could. As he became more persistent, she became increasingly annoyed, until she finally snapped her head up, glaring at him furiously.
"Stop!"
He did, for a moment, his head tipped slightly to the side, before bending down and whispering in her ear, "No." He leaned back, his lips curving into a taunting smirk that was certain to piss her off.
The goal was to provoke some kind of retort—at this point, any communication would benefit her, and she wasn't usually the type to hold her tongue—but after a moment's pause she exhaled sharply and turned away in an obvious attempt to dismiss him.
So, he playfully tugged at the fabric of her shirt.
"Dammit, Knives!" she exploded, her eyes flashing.
He quickly attempted to school his expression into something appropriately contrite, though he was fairly certain his amusement was still apparent. "I promise—I'm only trying to help."
She opened her mouth to speak, but lost control and choked on her words. He did cringe in earnest at that. Teasing her was always entertaining, but he didn't like watching her falter. When she had her shield back up, after cursing fluently, she spun to face him. "How—is this—helpful?" she growled through gritted teeth.
He frowned—he doubted his answer would improve her mood. "You won't be able to devote so much of your attention to shielding yourself once we leave this controlled environment. What will you do if someone bumps into you in the street? Or speaks to you? Or you encounter any of the other countless possible distractions? You must to learn to shield reflexively. I'm only trying to encourage it."
She stared at him blankly for a moment, and then scowled. "You could ha—" She broke off with a gasp, her face twisting in a grimace. After a few moments, her tension eased, and she managed to grind the words out. "—could have said so."
"You need to develop your instincts," he answered simply. "It's better that you don't anticipate it. Let yourself react naturally until it becomes ingrained. The whole point is for you to shield without having to think about it."
Her face shifted into a glower and she grumbled something unintelligible, though he was fairly certain it involved more swearing.
He really did sympathize, but there wasn't any way around it. If she couldn't master this, she'd never be able to survive without the collar.
And she would master it—he'd make sure of that.
x.x.x.x.x
Her training during the rest of their two-week inaugural trip was arduous, but she shouldered it without further complaint. Knives and Vash took turns working with her, doing what they could to draw her out, to hone her instincts. In the evenings, they offered advice on the techniques they'd found helpful when they were learning. Meryl and Millie filmed everything—thrilled that there was something more exciting to film, and that Kira's progress was evident on the visual medium.
By the time they returned to Octovern to replenish their supplies, she could comfortably hold a conversation while maintaining her shield, and her reflexive control had improved greatly. She was brimming with excitement—clearly eager to test her new skills—as the city came into view through the windows of the shuttle. Once they landed, the doctors escorted them straight to the medical wing.
Meryl and Millie began setting up the cameras as Lark and Gray prepared Kira. The brothers sat at one of the lab tables, watching mutely. It had been decided that Vash would lead all of the sessions in Octovern so Millie could film everything. The girls had gathered plenty of encouraging footage from the desert, but their effort was meaningless if Kira couldn't survive the city.
Knives' lips twisted into a grimace at the thought.
"What's wrong? You worried?" Vash asked affably.
"I'm not worried, exactly, but I'm fairly certain that today will be a disappointment. The jump in population is too great. I already told Kira as much, but she's still expecting to see some improvement."
"And you don't think she will?"
"I'd be amazed if there was anything significant. The scale of the input here will overwhelm her until she's advanced much further."
"I don't know—she's pretty damn tenacious," Vash said with a grin.
"This isn't an issue of tenacity, it's one of experience." He glowered. "I assume Meryl and Millie understand the scope of this—and how long it might take?"
Vash glanced over. "Yeah. They know. They're going to move on to other projects after today, and just come back for the sessions in Octovern. Afterall, this is what the public really needs to see—that it's possible to survive the serum—that, with some training, people can control these abilities and live comfortable lives."
Knives brooded sullenly. He still didn't like this plan. He didn't want Kira's energy to be sapped. And he was very curious about what would happen to her—and any other new plants—once the Federation was done with them.
"Have you heard anything about what rules Olowe will put into place for the volunteers, and how he will enforce them?" he asked. It seemed incredibly naïve and dangerous to hand over such a vast amount of power to a group of strangers and expect them not to abuse it.
"Not really. I think they'll just be really particular about who they choose. I mean, if they're all like Kira…" Vash trailed off with a shrug.
Knives knew what he meant. An army of plants like her could handle any outlier who might rise up and try to cause trouble.
… As long as she wasn't part of that army.
Did the admiral have a backup plan? "I hope the new plants won't have to live in collars indefinitely."
From across the room, Meryl gestured for Vash to come over. The aqua-eyed plant stood and gave his brother a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "Relax—it's going to be fine. Olowe is a good guy. Besides, he needs this to work. If it doesn't, he'll have to find a way to evacuate the planet—and he sure as hell doesn't have enough ships for that. It's in his best interest to find a solution that makes everyone happy. After all, no one's going to volunteer if they'll be treated like criminals for the rest of their lives." He gave Knives a final reassuring smile before sauntering over to the others.
Knives scowled, absently drumming his fingers on the table as he continued his useless contemplation. He wished he had something to do—something to distract him—but his only task during these assessments was to stay out of sight. Lark and Gray hadn't even turned his collar off. He was nothing more than a spectator.
"Here we go," Vash said cheerfully, signaling to the doctors and the camera that they were ready.
Kira grinned in response; her face full of anticipation. She took a few moments to prepare and then gave Vash a nod to begin. A moment later, she stiffened and let out a grunt, her eyes clenched shut. Several very long, very weighty seconds passed before her defenses failed and she cried out in distress. Knives' heart pounded as he suppressed the urge to go to her, forcing himself to wait patiently while Vash took care of it.
She quieted, her breathing returning to its normal rate. After a final, long exhale her frustration suddenly surged. "Dammit!" she barked, pummeling her fist into the arm of the chair. She rubbed a hand savagely over her face and let out an irritated huff, straightening up, her eyes shining with furious determination.
"Okay," she said, looking over to Vash, her jaw set. "Again."
x.x.x.x.x
Kira and Knives returned to their suite some time later with Vash and the girls in tow. Kira excused herself as soon as she was through the door, to the surprise of no one. She had pushed on far longer than she should have—honestly, Knives was amazed that she was still standing.
He cast a worried glance after her as she disappeared into their bedroom, the door sliding closed behind her. Well… there wasn't much he could do to help. She needed to rest.
He let out a sigh and joined the others. The two women were on the couch, their faces drawn, and Vash was sprawled tiredly in a chair. Knives took the chair across from his brother and leaned forward, his foot tapping restlessly as he tried to think of something to say. Thankfully, Meryl beat him to it.
"You did warn us it would take time," she said in a low voice.
"How long do you think it'll be before she can shield herself like you two?" Millie added, her expression uncharacteristically bleak.
Vash shook his head. "Hard to say. The world was so different back when we were learning this stuff. The settlements we used to encounter were a lot smaller than the population here in Octovern."
"I think less than three months would be a miracle," Knives said stiffly, "though it could be a lot more."
"I hope it's not too long," Meryl groused. "I was planning on breaking the story as soon as we can put our final cut together, but I want to keep the momentum going until she succeeds."
Knives couldn't help but smile. "You're certain that she will?"
He believed that she would, and he knew Vash did, but it was nice to hear that today's assessment hadn't shaken Meryl's confidence.
She rolled her eyes. "I'm certain that you won't stop until she does. In the meantime, we'll try to rally support and build the excitement. If we're going to ask people to volunteer for this, that's when we'll have the best chance of success—when the enthusiasm is at its peak."
Knives frowned. He assumed choosing suitable volunteers would be the most difficult aspect of the plan. It had never occurred to him that lack of interest might be a problem. "You think we'll need to sway them?"
"Not all of them," she said cryptically, her face flushing, eyes fixed on the floor. "If we explain the situation and show that we have a successful plan, some people will want to help—just for the sake of humanity's survival. I'm going to up the coverage of the overburdened angels, in the meantime. That should inspire more people. But it's… it's asking a lot." She lifted her gaze. "We're asking people to outlive their friends. Their families. Not many will be prepared to do that."
"No… No, I suppose they won't," Knives murmured, a little embarrassed that he hadn't even considered such a glaring flaw in the plan. Honestly, he thought the long life would draw people in, but having to watch the people they loved age and die—who would want that?
An uncomfortable silence filled the air as the seconds stretched from one to the next. Meryl looked over to Millie, eyebrows raised in an unspoken question. The large woman nodded, and Meryl turned to Vash. "I think we're actually going to head out," she said softly.
"Already?" he said with a slight pout.
She gave him an amused smile. "We really should go through the footage from this afternoon before we call it a day."
He made a noise of reluctant acceptance and the two women rose to their feet. Millie offered a couple of quick goodbyes and headed to the door. Meryl inclined her head to Knives, and then turned to Vash, bending down, giving him a kiss, and murmuring a 'see you tonight,' before turning to follow her friend.
Vash stared after the raven-haired reporter, his eyes refusing to leave her until the door slid shut, cutting her off from his view.
Knives' brow arched. "Still going well, I take it?"
Vash went pink. "Yeah… really well. Really really well, actually. I think… she might—assuming everything goes how we're planning—then… maybe…" He trailed off, looking hopelessly besotted.
"She will volunteer?" Knives finished for him.
"I think so. She's still kind of… debating. Weighing the pros and cons."
Hence, her comments…
"She'd lose so many people," Vash continued, "—her dad, and Millie—"
"Millie won't volunteer?" Knives exclaimed, surprised by how surprised he was. The big girl seemed so… altruistic. Noble. Kind. She was exactly the kind of person they were looking for. He figured she'd be a shoo-in—especially if her best friend were at her side.
"She has a lot of family she doesn't want to leave behind."
Ah. Right. He remembered hearing about the family. Shit. If someone as selfless as her wouldn't do it… It really was going to be more difficult to persuade people than he thought.
"Honestly, if I wasn't here, I don't think Meryl would volunteer either. And that's… well… It's daunting. For both of us. Sort of a huge commitment, you know? But I think she wants to. And I want her to…" Vash's expression went love-struck again.
Knives nodded, a smile curving his lips, as a companionable silence fell around them. Meryl becoming a plant was a prospect he wholeheartedly supported. He had grown to like the small woman, in spite of her tendency toward snappishness.
She made Vash happy.
And Vash deserved a happiness that would last. He'd lost so many people over the years. Had so many people stolen from him.
Knives' smile fell away as his mind drifted back to all of the torment he'd put his brother through. All the people he'd taken, starting with Rem…
He'd apologized for some of it. He and Vash had discussed a number of things, including Rem and the Big Fall, during a handful of quiet nights they'd had since he was rescued from Garrow's clutches.
Rem… For so long, he had blamed her for what had happened to Tessla, but she didn't deserve it. In truth, there wasn't much she could have done to stop the rest of her crew. And she had tried to rectify the situation. They were lucky she'd been the one to find them.
God, he wished he had realized that sooner. Wished he could take back so much of his past.
He had admitted all of this to Vash—had expressed his sincere regret—and Vash had graciously accepted his apology. He'd even offered his forgiveness, much to Knives' dismay. It had been a relief, coming to terms with his past sins in some small way.
But there was so many more that remained unaddressed, even now. He'd hurt so many people. Killed so many…
Knives' stomach churned. One face in particular stood out—the person, aside from Rem, whose death had caused his brother the greatest pain. A death he had yet to apologize for.
"Vash…" He paused; his tongue suddenly unwieldy.
His brother gave him a confused look, waiting for him to continue.
"I, um…" Knives clenched his hand and forced the words out. "I want to apologize. For what happened to… to Chap—er—to Wolfwood."
Vash's posture went rigid.
Okay, maybe he should have led into that a little more delicately…
In all the months Knives had spent alongside his brother and the girls, the priest's name had only come up only a few times. At first, everyone veered away from the subject because of Livio—though the man claimed to enjoy hearing stories about his childhood friend, it was obvious that it also stirred his guilt. But even after they'd parted ways from him, talking about the priest remained something of a taboo. Everyone seemed to agree the best way to deal with such a touchy issue was to avoid it.
And Knives had been more than happy to let this particular sleeping dog lie.
Wolfwood was a dangerous subject, for many reasons, not least of which being that Knives had hated the man, more deeply than he hated most humans. Of course, that hatred was gone now, swallowed up by his immense guilt, but a small part of him would always be bitter about the friendship that had developed between the priest and his brother.
Which was absolutely ridiculous—he knew he shouldn't feel that way! He was afraid of the fight that might erupt if he ever voiced something so selfish. Or anything regarding the priest.
He was already starting to regret bringing him up now.
But…
Wolfwood's death was one of the more personal offenses Knives had committed against Vash.
He needed to take responsibility.
Vash was still motionless, staring blankly at a random spot on the floor, his chin balanced on his tightly clenched hands, elbows resting on knees. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but then let out a weary sigh. "You didn't kill him. It… it wasn't your fault," he finally murmured.
They both knew that wasn't true. For a moment, Knives considered simply accepting the deflection, but… no.
"I may not have been directlyinvolved, but my hands were pulling the strings."
Vash fell silent again.
"I know you were friends. It must have been very difficult to lose him," Knives said. "And I'm truly sorry."
His words hung in the air for an increasingly uncomfortable amount of time. He was about to apologize for bringing the subject up when Vash finally spoke. "I suppose I should say the same thing," he said quietly, his voice dull.
Knives frowned, not comprehending.
"Legato," Vash supplied, his brows raising.
Oh… right.
"Legato," Knives repeated slowly, the man's name feeling foreign on his lips. "You needn't apologize for that."
Legato… He turned the name over in his head.
Elendira…
The Gung-Ho Guns.
… Conrad.
It seemed like a lifetime ago.
Vash was watching him, his expression guarded.
"What?" Knives asked cautiously.
He fidgeted and shook his head, looking away. "Just thinking…"
"About?"
"I don't know. I mean… don't you feel…?" He trailed off, his brows furrowing together. "Do you ever… miss them?"
"I didn't know them well enough to miss them."
Vash gaped. "But they were so devoted to you—"
"They were afraid of me," Knives snapped. He paused for a moment, forcing his defensive temper to cool, and when he spoke again, his tone was softer. "Legato was devoted. But the others… They had other motivations. When I was gathering them, I learned what I had to in order to control them—to keep them loyal. Sometimes through fear. Sometimes manipulation. Beyond that, I didn't give them much thought."
"But you must have had some kind of… of something with them!"
"Why?" He fairly spat the word. "Because you would have, had you been in my position? Because they would have become your… what? Friends? Comrades? You're forgetting who they were—a team of killers! And who I… who I… was." His chest suddenly felt hollow. "Their usefulness was the only thing I cared about."
"Okay. But what about now? Do you still feel that way?"
Knives flinched, and Vash must have seen it because he went on before Knives had a chance to answer.
"Look—I'm not saying you have to feel any way about them. I'm just… curious. I wonder about it. That's all. I'm sorry for bringing it up."
Knives had to swallow a cynical laugh. He was the one who'd started this damned conversation, though it had definitely gotten away from him. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, before continuing. "I… suppose… there is a part of me that wishes I had known them better. Well, some of them. I do… regret… certain things. Of course. But, it's hard to imagine acting differently—at least back then. A unique set of circumstances brought me to them, and them to me. I don't think they would have followed me, had I been as I am now." He glanced away. "I kept myself apart from them. Emphasized my superiority. It was… necessary, to assert my dominance. To keep them in line."
Vash frowned, a perplexed look on his face. "… Do you ever feel bad for using them like that?"
"I try not to think about it," he said, feeling very, very out of his depth. "It was—it was complicated! Besides, it's not like they were innocent lambs or something!"
Vash's gaze hardened instantly. "What—so they deserved their fates?"
"Maybe? I don't know!"
"And Legato deserved to die?" Vash asked slowly. "Is that why I shouldn't feel sorry?"
"… No. Though I don't think there was any other fate for him, in the end. But, at first… No."
Life had been cruel to him. And yet, somehow, he managed to claw his way out of his piteous existence into something… better? Was his existence as a Gung-Ho Gun better? Or was it just another kind of hell?
Knives' treatment of Legato was possibly the worst thing he'd done—his greatest evil. Yes, the effects of Big Fall and the war had been much greater—the damage more wide-reaching—but Legato…
He was the purest example of the malicious hatred—the callousness—the animosity that Knives had fostered.
Knives had created him—shaped him. Granted, he'd shaped Elendira as well, but it was different with Legato. The boy had been so vulnerable, and grateful—and so very ruined—when Knives found him. It had been easy to twist his gratitude into absolute and total reverence. He loved Knives—really loved him. He was possibly the only human to do so besides Rem. Before Kira. And Knives hadn't shown him even the smallest bit of compassion.
Quite the opposite, in fact. He'd been cruel and demeaning, at best. Brutally violent, at worst.
What he'd done was despicable. He was despicable…
And yet Legato had loved him, still.
What if someone else had saved him? Someone kind? And good? Like Vash… What kind of person would Legato have become?
Another wave of disgust swept over Knives at how truly evil he'd been, to turn that wretched, desperate boy into such a monster.
Knives swallowed. "He didn't deserve any of it. I made him what he was. His actions and his death were my fault more than anyone's."
"… And Wolfwood? Did he deserve to die?" Vash's voice was leaden.
Knives mutely shook his head.
He let out a slow breath. "I know I probably shouldn't, but I have to ask—why did you go after him? Why did you send Livio? I mean, we were gone. It was already too late—the damage was done, so… why?"
"He betrayed me," Knives murmured, wanting to lie. But Vash deserved the truth. "And I… knew you two were close," he continued, shifting nervously. "I was… I was jealous. And angry. That you chose him—even though he was a killer too—you trusted him, but not me."
"You really are something else, you know that?" Vash said, his voice dangerously soft, his eyes glinting.
Shit.
"I'm sorry. I know it was wrong. And I don't—I'm not—" He shook his head. Nothing he could say would ever be enough to make up for the things he'd done. The person he'd been. "Please—I only wanted to apologize. I didn't—"
"Knives, stop. Just—just stop. I know. I know... you didn't mean it like…" He trailed off and ran a hand roughly through his hair. "And I know you're you. I should have expected…" He exhaled sharply. "Maybe that's why I've been avoiding this, but… we shouldn't keep ignoring things that we don't want to deal with—not after Tessla… so… thanks, I guess," he finished tersely.
He let out another weary breath and pushed himself to his feet, heading towards the door. Knives' heart sank.
What the hell had he done?
"Vash…?"
He paused. "Knives, I really don't feel like talking anymore."
He knocked on the door and the guard on the other side opened it for him. He took half a step through it before turning back.
"Look. It's fine. Okay? I just… need a little space right now."
"I… Yes. Okay."
"Okay. I'll see you later. Just… just get some sleep."
The door slid closed behind him, and Knives thought he might be sick.
x.x.x.x.x
He wasn't sure how long he sat, staring at nothing. It wasn't until the twisting knot of pain in his chest had eased to a dull ache that he finally retreated to the bedroom. The sound of Kira's steady breathing prompted him to go to the second bed so he wouldn't wake her. Unfortunately, his plan was derailed when he sat down and the mattress creaked in complaint.
She let out a quiet groan and turned to face him. "Knives…?" she murmured into the darkness.
"Yes. It's me. Go back to sleep."
She made a small noise of protest. "Where are you? Come here."
He let out a slow breath, his mind still mired, but made his way to her bed, sitting on the edge. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."
He felt her hand on his arm, tugging him down to lay beside her. "S'okay… I'd rather sleep with you next to me," she murmured, nuzzling against his shoulder.
He turned on his side and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into his chest, burying his nose in her hair, and breathing deeply.
"What's wrong?" she asked, a note of concern in her voice.
"… I just had a difficult conversation with Vash…"
She let out a sympathetic hum. "Want to talk about it?"
He choked on a caustic, borderline-hysterical laugh. "No. I don't." And suddenly his pulse was racing, his breath coming too fast. "There are so many things I never want to talk about with you—things I neverwant you to know," he growled, his grip on her tightening. "The things I've done—you'd hate me if you knew. If you really knew. And I can't—I won't—I can't lose you too!"
"Shh—Knives, it's okay." He felt her hand on his side, moving up and down soothingly. "Calm down. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
"But I should," he hissed, his body fairly trembling with coiled tension. "You deserve to know all of it. What a vicious— How evil— All the—all the things that I—"
"Stop," she ordered, the word sharp and commanding. She leaned back, her hand cupping his face. He could just make her out in the dim light. "Listen. First of all, I'm not stupid. I know who you were. And, more importantly, I know who you are. You are not who you used to be. Okay? You are more than that person." Her thumb began moving lightly over his cheekbone. "Secondly, I'm not…" She sighed. "I do know some things," she said softly. "Not everything, but more than you probably realize."
"You…? How?"
Her hand moved to rest on his side again. "I was trapped on that air ship with Vash for a long time. We talked. At first, I just wanted him to fill in some of the blanks you left in your stories, but… he gave me a lot more of your history too. Including the darker parts… You're not going to scare me away."
"Vash…" His face twisted. "I was only trying to apologize. I should have just kept my fucking mouth shut."
"… Do you want to at least give me a general idea of what happened?"
He exhaled a shaking breath and the words came tumbling out. At first it was only the bare minimum, but the longer he talked, the more details he added until he'd painted her a pretty damn clear picture of what he and Vash had discussed—including his self-incriminating inner monologue.
"What if this was it," he finished. "What if this was the last straw?"
"Vash loves you. He will always love you. But he's allowed to be mad at you. You have to do what he asks—give him the space he needs. He'll forgive you when he's ready."
"I don't deserve forgiveness."
"Then figure out a way to deserve it. Earn it."
"How?"
"Help people."
"But how? How am I supposed to help people when I can't even go near them?"
"You're helping me. And if this works, it will make life better for everyone on this planet."
He scoffed.
"Hey—it's a start! Just… do what you can—wherever you can. Keep trying."
"… Keep trying."
"Yes—keep trying. I mean—that's life. You try to be the best person you can. And if you fuck up, you just have to keep going, and try that much harder—be better next time—learn from your mistakes! So… keep trying! Don't give up!"
He gave her a halting nod and she returned it resolutely, her expression determined. "Okay… Okay. You're right."
She smiled.
"I… I really love you, you know." He grimaced. "Maybe you don't want to hear that after… after all this, but… I do."
"Of course I want to hear it—it's just more proof of how far you've come. And I—" She let out a wide yawn. "—love you too."
"Shit—you need to rest. I'm keeping you up. I'll—" He moved to stand but she grabbed his arm.
"For fuck's sake," she said, a glimmer of laughter in her voice. She tugged him to lay beside her again and pulled his arm around her, snuggling into his chest.
He let out a heavy sigh and ran his fingers gently through her hair before curling his arm more securely around her.
… Keep trying. Don't give up.
Yes… Yes, she was right. He owed it to the people he'd hurt—to the people he'd killed. He owed it to the people who'd given him a second chance—who trusted him—who had faith in him. Millie. Meryl. Kira.
Vash…
He owed them all the effort he could give. He would do whatever he could to make up for his past.