DuesExDream: Hehe, ok, well, now you get to see what happened and why Stormie walked out! *hugs* You've been such a great reviewer! But, now, sadly, this story is closing, and this is the last chapter! That is, unless you want an epilogue...

Jeril Dragonsoul: Ah! Toboe! I love him so! When he holds out his hand to that girl and says, "I just wanted to be yours!" I almost cried. It was soooo sad! Was the part where Toboe and Tsume first met cool? When that guy is gonna shoot Toboe and Tsume jumps down from the rooftop and slashes his hand and then they both like, spring up into the air and do all these back flips and stuff!! lol Well, I won't spoil what happens past episode nine, but I will say this: episodes thirteen through sixteen are sooo pointless. They're all flashback episodes, just from a different character's point of view! So disappointing... Anyhow, sorry I confused you. Maybe this will clear things up...?

Stephanie: I can imagine reading this whole thing would take up a lot of time. I admire your patience. lol Sorry you got mad about Stormie and Naoshi! It's a good thing I resolved it then - haha. You find it touching? Thanks! And here is the conclusion - sort of. Maybe. We'll see.

Hello_lola: I love Legato! Love him to pieces! lol Yep, I find Grayfall and Oriole a cute couple too. Both sort of quiet and reserved... lol Total opposites of Knives and Stormie, right?

Acedia: No pocky! *stops to think about it* Actually, I've never had pocky. A girl at school had it once, but she was so mean she wouldn't give me any! *pouts* Anyhow, I explained it here - hopefully it's good enough for you. If not, well, sorry. Legato... //.^ He's the best!

Kuja's swan: So...how soon is soon for this computer? lol Thanx! Glad you liked the last chapter!

Sami: Frustratingly interesting? Sounds good! Haha.

~~~~~~

Bailey was clearing away dinner dishes when it happened. She was standing by the cabinet and packing away the leftovers when the front door was pushed open slightly, and then, when it swung back again, shouldered open by a short, wiry man with flaming red hair and a streak of blood smeared across his left cheek. He carried the limp body of another man piggy-back, arms hooked under his legs, back bowed under the weight. It shocked Bailey, and she turned and quickly swallowed back a scream.

Stormie was just behind him, shouting and yelling orders. Upon catching sight of the frozen Bailey standing in the middle of the kitchen, she yelled, "Bailey! Clear the dinner table!" and slammed the door behind her.

Bailey recognized the unconscious body of Mitayo hanging off the other man's back and dropped the dish she was holding. Thank goodness it was plastic and did not shatter.

Seeing that she was going to be of no use, Stormie growled and ran forward, sweeping out her arm to throw all the contents off the table. They fell and clattered to the ground, but she ignored them, whirling on her heel and commanding, "Desma! Lie him down!"

Bailey gasped when she saw the other man throw Mitayo's lifeless body onto the table surface. The blonde plant was bleeding profusely from his left side, unmoving and seemingly not breathing, his skin as white as the table clothe he was currently staining. While Desma stripped him of his shirt and undid his belt, Stormie knelt on the floor and dug through a bag of medical supplies, muttering to herself as she searched for the right one.

Billy came out from her bedroom, where she had been napping, and stopped in shock when she saw the scene before her. Slowly, aghast, she knelt down beside where Bailey was now huddled and put her arm around the terrified girl.

"Stupid Mitayo," Stormie mumbled to herself, pulling on her thin, latex gloves and sweeping her hair out of her face. "Stupid, stupid Mitayo..."

~~~~~~

Two days. It had been two, long, torturous days.

Knives sat on the window seat in Stormie's little house out in the desert, the town looming in the distance, and thought of all the seconds that had gone by without his knowing if she really was ever coming back. After all, last time she'd run away, it'd been for two years, and even then, he'd had to track her down.

Sighing, he glanced over at the golden band slowly collecting dust on the hard wood floor of the hallway. He had yet to touch it after having ripped it off his hand and violently thrown it across the room, where it skidded and rolled to a stop in the corner. Vash had bent to pick it up, but he had screamed at him to leave it alone in such a way that everyone had been walking carefully around it and avoiding letting their eyes alight on the angry testimony as if it possessed some sort of evil.

Speaking over everyone else, Oriole and Grayfall were treating Vash and the kids to dinner to celebrate their upcoming wedding. Knives had politely declined and advised Grayfall to get out while he still could, also sharing some words of wisdom with Oriole.

"Marriage should die," he had informed her sagely.

Now, a sandstorm had started up and although it wasn't too nasty, he suspected they'd be staying in one of the hotels over night until morning, when driving conditions would be more favorable. So, that left Knives all alone, gazing out the window, leaning his chin onto the back of his hand, trying to define the shape moving closing and closer to the house...

When he opened the door, sand and wind gushed in, momentarily blinding him. Quickly, he slammed it behind him, squinted into the distance, and frowned hard when he realized it was a woman limping towards him.

She stopped about two yards away, standing there, looking like she almost felt...exuberant and relieved, not scared and guilty like he had expected. She smiled at him brilliantly, her heavy shirt and pants soaked through with still drying blood and ripped in several places, her hair matted down with sweat and scarlet life fluid, which had gathered in sticky clumps on the right side of her head. The harshly blowing sand had collected in the blood, giving her a grainy appearance, and although her bright blue eyes were half shut in exhaustion, she seemed truly happy.

He crossed his arms stiffly, observing her with a carefully blank stare.

"Knives," she said quietly, taking a step towards him, halting a little as her body began to obviously give out, "I'm home, Knives."

He did not catch her when she fell to her knees, tripping clumsily over her own feet and soundlessly crashing to the ground. She didn't seem to care, just sighing a little and achingly pushing herself back up once more, the smile still on her face.

He winced, seeing at how childishly she continued to smile and gaze at him with tired blue eyes that clearly said she believed he would catch her should she fall again. She didn't know why he hadn't the first time, but she was confident if it happened again, he'd be there. He could've kicked her while she was down and she still would have continued to move towards him, to love him and believe he loved her back.

"You know what I did?" she asked proudly. "I...I walked into town to where Mitayo and Bailey live... I asked them to help me free Desma and Desiree - and they did. We saved Desma, Knives. He's back with them. I helped my friend...and I got over what Mitayo did. It doesn't bother me anymore!" She was only a foot away now, reaching out to put one red-stained hand on his shoulder, lips turning down into a slow, hesitant frown. "But...I'm really tired..." She moved forward a little, leaning against him, steadying herself, talking through her drowsiness. "Help me...?"

Knives had no choice but to swing her up into his arms when she collapsed, gathering her limp body into his arms and carrying her out of the blinding sand storm and into the quiet safety of the house. She smelled of death and pain, but she appeared to be quite content with him, happy with the results of her rescue mission. "Why Mitayo?" he asked gruffly. "Why not me?"

"Because...I needed to forgive him, and it's like you and Grayfall..." Her eyelashes fluttered, lifting off her pale cheeks to reveal ocean orbs that stared up at him affectionately. "He forgave you because you worked towards a common goal - getting rid of Naoshi. So me and Mitayo worked towards helping Desma..."

"And you think that after that sort of a stunt you can just come right back?!" He glared at the woman lying helpless in his grasp. "You made me think you were never coming back! Why couldn't you have told me what you were doing?!"

"I was afraid...you'd accuse me of things...if I said I wanted Mitayo to go with me. You know...what you said in the bedroom." She squinted up at him, hurt reflected in her expression. "You said that you didn't know why you put up with me because..."

"Stop it, Stormie," he seethed, not wanting to hear his own words repeated.

"Because...I've been tainted by Naoshi and you shouldn't want to touch me after... You said you didn't think he raped me and I let him do it." She paused. "I just didn't want you to say anything about me and Mitayo either."

"Hey, I'm...I didn't meant it. I was angry."

"I know. You've got...quite a temper..."

Choosing not to comment on that, he sniffed disdainfully and walked into the small bathroom that connected to her bedroom, saying, "You are in desperate need of a shower. Can you stand on your own?" Just holding her against his chest had coated his neck, arms, and the front of his shirt in blood and sand.

Stormie could no longer see. Everything had turned to fuzz and then to a hazy black. She thought for a moment, swinging her tired legs and finding they simply did not want to support her, and besides, being in Knives' arms was comfortable... Even her lolling head felt like it was moving through jelly, and when she opened her mouth, breathing in the intoxicatingly warm air, she could only whisper, "You're dirty too... Don't leave..."

When he answered, she couldn't make out the words, but they sounded vaguely surprised. No longer did she feel anything; she was too tired for that. Really, all that registered in her mind were ghost touches as her clothes were peeled away from her battered body and then being put down, picked up, swung around, thrust forward, and finally, stilling. A little shiver as lukewarm water hit her cuts and then a harsh sigh when her feet hit the ceramic floor of the shower, the arm that had been hooked beneath sliding away. She leaned back against the arm that looped around her waist, supporting her, and relished in how the liquid pelting her skin heated to a nice temperature that melted away most of the soreness in her limbs.

Knives said something once more, but she didn't hear enough to reply. But his voice was like a smile, and satisfied with that, she let the rest of her consciousness slip away from her.

~~~~~

Stormie was pleasantly hazy, eyes closed, mind devoid of all thoughts. All that remained was the enveloping warmth of the small bed and the solid shoulder on which her head lay, one hand lazily resting against Knives' chest. It was somewhere around dawn, she assumed, though she couldn't exactly be sure. Everything was sort of jumbled.

"Does it hurt?" Knives asked softly, his questioning voice penetrating her thoughts.

"What?" she asked drowsily, moving a little closer, latching onto him. She'd always slept hugging a pillow or a teddy bear - now Knives was just going to have to deal with her habit.

"You're covered in wounds."

"They're shallow," she murmured. "Mitayo took the brunt of the damage."

"But it still looks like it'd hurt just to be touched."

She sleepily sighed. "It does a little, but I don't care."

Knives stared up at the ceiling, not moving in the very least. He was not holding her as she was him - he wasn't the type, and besides, he didn't want to put any more pressure on her cuts. Instead, he lay there, listening to the sand storm still raging outside, drowning in a pool of thoughts.

~~~~~

"Oriole, might as well wake them up." Vash shook the woman sitting beside him in the jeep, trying to jog her sleep-deprived mind awake enough to carry out the task. While she stirred fitfully and struggled with her seat belt, he climbed out of the vehicle and stretched his legs.

Grayfall, Xavier, and Faith were asleep in the back seat, having drifted off somewhere around three A.M. Now, at eight in the morning, they were finally arriving back home. The sand storm had not even let up until an hour ago, and then he and Grayfall had worked on trying to get the jeep to start again for forty-five minutes, all the built up sand having not only killed the engine, but put them in a pretty deep hole. Literally. As for their activities during the storm, they'd been on their way home and had therefore been forced to stop right there in the middle of the desert. Fortunately, Vash had had the idea of pulling a heavy tarp over the top of the vehicle and shielding the interior from the harsh elements. There, the four of them huddled under a tautly stretched sheet of plastic, Oriole had pulled out a flash light and begun to tell ghost stories that had lasted for hours and hours until the storm let up.

Now, they had arrived back at Stormie's house, where Vash suspected Knives would be still asleep. Although an early riser, he'd been spending a lot of time in bed lately, moping about.

The blond plant made his way to the door, fishing about in his pocket for the keys before realizing he did not need them, for the door had been left carelessly open. Curious, he stepped inside, called out his brother's name, and received no answer.

The shower was running.

Whistling, he made his way back to the bedroom and stepped inside, stopping dead in his tracks when he noticed a lump huddled under the covers, a hand poking out on the left side. "Knives!" he reprimanded the figure curled up on the bed sharply. "You left the shower running!"

A little grunt was his reply as the body shifted a bit.

"Come on now! Time to wake up! Weren't you worried about me at all?" No reply. "I'm hurt Knives, really. Up, up, up! Breakfast!" And, stalking over to the edge of the mattress, he woke his twin in the customary manner that he had developed as a child. He reached under the sheets and by sense of touch located Knive's head, grabbed a fistful of hair, and pulled, yanking him up and out from under the covers.

However, this time, instead of Knives replying with a barked out insult and growl, there was a shrill shriek and long, golden hair spilled over from his fist, onto the pillow, a woman jerking painfully towards him.

He blinked, freezing in his surprise.

She had been thrown forwards, her bare back bowed forward as her naked shoulders and arms quaked in shock and fear. When she lifted her face, Stormie looked back at him with wide, blue eyes, her mouth gaping. And then, clutching at the sheets to cover herself, desperately clawing at them when they refused to cooperate, she slid back underneath the covers and screamed, loud and shrill and piercing.

He joined her, the pitch of his yell warbling back and forth between that of a terrified adolescent male and a highly embarrassed girl.

The door to the bathroom was thrown open as if a hurricane itself had ripped off the hinges and an irate Knives, dripping wet and with a towel wrapped around his waist, burst out. At seeing his brother, he skidded to a stop, looked at the screaming couple, and yelled at the top of his lungs, "VASH! OUT!"

Vash, whimpering, obeyed, dashing out the door. He tripped, ran, stumbled, and at the end, crawled back out onto the front porch, panting, crying, blushing with such a fierce intensity that he was on the verge of tears.

Grayfall, who was now up and carrying a sleeping Xavier, whereas Faith was cradled in Oriole's arms, shot him a suspicious look.

"Stormie's back!" he blurted out, and proceeded to babble idiocy about getting back into the jeep and renting a few hotel rooms to stay in for the next week.

Grayfall's eyes widened, the golden orbs perfectly suspended in a sea of white. "You walked in on them, didn't you?" he realized, his voice filled with awe. "I can't believe it! You walked in on them!"

"Please," the gunman begged, "take me back to town where it's safe! As soon as Knives gets some clothes on, I know he's gonna come out and kill me!"

Oriole held up a hand for him to stop, saying gravely, "I don't want to even know what you saw. Just get back in the car and we'll have breakfast in town today. Hurry now - close that front door and we'll be off."

~~~~~

The next day, Desma dropped by for a visit. He was looking a little worn, but in pretty good shape for someone who had been through such an ordeal. With a grateful smile, he'd gladly told everyone the details Stormie had refused to share, how she and Mitayo had saved him, but, as hard as they had tried, had been too late to rescue Desiree, who had died only moments after they had arrived. He explained how Mitayo had taken a bullet for Stormie and was currently laid up back at his own apartment, where Bailey and Billy were watching after him. As he told this part, he looked at Xavier and winked, remarking, "We'd be dead without your dad."

Xavier colored a little in shame and directed his gaze to the floor. As plants age quickly, he was already looking older than when Stormie had brought him home, having shot up in height nearly five inches as his face grew to be more angled like his father's, and his body stretched out into a lean, athletic form. His hair, still long, was normally pulled away from his face in a ponytail tied back at the nape of his neck.

Soon after Desma had left, Stormie called the boy back into the kitchen. She was stiff and sore from all her wounds and not really having given them proper time to heal, opting instead for other physical activities...

Limping a little, she pulled out a chair for herself and then sat down, cringing as she did. Once he was seated as well, she leaned forward, took his hand, and told him bluntly, "You need to move back in with your parents."

"What?"

"It's ok, Xavier. Forgive them. They loved each other, and you know what? I'm grateful because Mitayo pushed me closer to Knives - which is who I belong with. You're their child and they want you back so badly it hurts them, and I know you want them too."

Xavier glanced away, muttering, "I like living here..."

"Hey, kid, I'm not trying to get rid of you! Don't look at me like that. I love you like my own son - I think the fact that I let you use my hammock shows that. Anyhow, why don't you just try to go back with them? If a few weeks pass and you don't like it, you can come back, ok?"

He didn't look quite convinced, but nodded mutely anyway. He knew this had all been planned - especially the part about Desma coming over and gushing about how great his father was. Earlier, he'd heard Stormie and Knives talking about how one of the reasons Mitayo had agreed to help her was that she had promised to get Xavier to move back in with him and Bailey. But, if it made Stormie happy...and the house was sort of crowded...

"Oh, good! You can pack tonight and we'll have a party for you and we'll take you out tomorrow and then you can visit anytime!" Stormie was back to her old chipper self, moving on to quickly talk about party plans though they fell on deaf ears.

Xavier didn't want a party. He wanted to know where he truly belonged.

~~~~~

The party was great, really. How could it not be with that group? Vash bought about a thousand party poppers and proceeded to let each and everyone explode in either Knives' or Xavier's face, succeeding in earning a death warrant from both, whereas as Stormie was busy either bringing out food from the kitchen or calling out ridiculous, nonsensical phrases above all the noise. Faith had informed him it was best to ignore her when she was drunk off the party high.

Oriole and Grayfall were really the only semi-normal people there, for Desma, although in attendance, was proving to be quite a story-teller who had a horrible habit of breaking into hysterical laughter with Stormie for no reason.

For example, Knives could be sitting there with a frown on his face, as usual, eating his food slowly and politely. Then, he could lift his head, look around, and ask, "Can someone pass the salt?" and both Stormie and Desma would surprise everyone in the room by chuckling as if at someone private joke, letting the noise graduate and grow until both were clutching at their sides, doubled over.

Xavier wondered how he could leave this and possibly be happy. Bailey and Mitayo - whenever he was around them, he tasted nothing in the air but stale memories and old pain. And Faith... Faith was his best, his ONLY, friend. He'd be so bored without her!

When they drove him out the next day and he hugged Faith goodbye and received a kiss on the forehead from Stormie, he felt as though this was permanent - he'd never see them again. However, when he stepped bravely up to the door, suitcase in hand, and rang the bell, a short, dark-haired woman opened the door and smiled brightly at him.

"Billy?" he asked in surprise. He knew a little about her, although he probably should've known more seeing as how she had been through this whole ordeal with them. The thing that struck him strangest about her was that her son happened to be Faith's half-brother.

"Xavier, we've been expecting you, but not for another hour! Oh, I live here to, remember? Come in, come in! Your father is asleep but your mother is working on her sculpture!"

Sculpture? Xavier's brows drew together in surprise. This was the first he'd heard of a 'sculpture'. Was Bailey some sort of artist?

As he was ushered into the apartment, he found that it was very lovely, very expensive, but comfortable looking. That's when he remembered that Billy's father owned his own company and therefore must have a great deal of money. All the furniture was overstuffed and colorful, and the walls were a rosy red in the first hallway, and then, in the living room, a sunny yellow with a wooden floor to accentuate their cheery color.

Bailey was wearing a dirt-stained smock with her hair swept up in a loose bun, holding a rather large pair of shears and studying a potted, leafy bush that was as tall as her. It was starting to take the shape of a women, he thought, though he couldn't even fathom how they'd got it in the door.

He cleared his throat.

She turned, saw him, and her face lit up. Immediately he was swept up in his mother's embrace, and received an earnest apology when she realized she had rubbed quite a bit of dirt onto him. "Mitayo will be happy you're here," she informed him. "He's back in bed right now. You wanna go see him?"

Bed...? Oh yes, Xavier remembered something about Mitayo having taken a bullet for Stormie back at the plant. "Sure," he said hesitantly.

Bailey led him into a bedroom with sky-blue walls and a half-finished mural of a blooming garden on the left wall. "I've been working on that," she explained, "to cheer him up." And then, she motioned to the bed, where Mitayo was stretched onto his side, the covers draped around his hips just low enough to reveal the bandages wrapped around his waist. He was asleep still, rather deeply from the looks of it, and deathly pale.

"How bad was it?" Xavier wanted to know. He had expected Mitayo not to look his best, and although he didn't look too bad either, it was a little unnerving to see him in such a frail state.

"Oh, it's not too bad. We first thought it to be fatal, but Stormie does wonders! You should've seen it! She and Desma dragged him in the front door and I just about lost it, I was so scared. He looked dead already and was covered in blood. She told me to clear off the dinner table and when I didn't move, she just sort of threw out her arm and knocked everything onto the floor. Then, Desma hefted him up there and she took out this bag of medical stuff I'd never even seen before and, well, I don't know what happened after that, but he's here!" Bailey was terribly impressed. "Oh, should I wake him then?"

Xavier tried to look aloof. "If you want."

Walking to where he lay, tapping gently on his forehead and calling his name, Bailey chuckled a little when he lethargically raised a hand to smack hers away. Then, grunting in pain at the movement, he opened clouded eyes and let them drift lazily towards Xavier, who stood petrified in the doorway. Slowly, the corners of his mouth curled into a smirk. "So, Stormie convinced you after all..."

Bailey perched on the edge of the bed, smiling brightly at her son. "We're happy you're here. We love you."

Mitayo didn't feel like adding to the sentiment; he just tucked a hand behind his head and grinned. "Still hate us?"

And to his surprise, Xavier heard his own voice, wavering but clear, answer, "I never did."

~~~~~

Faith stared at the small picture cradled in her hands, gawking at the smiling face and the glittering eyes. She looked up at her mother and frowned in confusion, opening her mouth to protest, but found she had no words to use. They'd all flown away somewhere.

"You look like him," Stormie said quietly.

Faith looked back down at Naoshi. He wasn't alone in the picture, standing beside Billy and balancing Vincent on his hip, a hand waving in a friendly manner to the camera. "Strange to think this is my dad," she muttered, flipping to the next picture to see it was one of him in a more contemplative pose, sitting in a tree with his back against the trunk, one long leg hanging down while the other was drawn towards his chest on the branch. The picture only had his profile, as if he was gazing at something in the distance and was not aware he was being photographed.

"It is, isn't it?"

"Yes." Faith frowned, biting her lip. "Don't you hate him?"

"Why would I? It's easier to just forgive him. And besides, he was pretty messed up, but he loved you. He really did. And it wasn't a kind of love I would advise to be practiced..." She laughed a little. "But still, don't waste your time loathing him. He's dead, and before he died, he DID save my life. He tried to redeem himself."

"Impossible." But instead of flinging the pictures away from her, Faith tucked them into her pocket and smiled. "But who cares? Knives is my dad now."

Stormie remained where she stood after her daughter left, kneeling down to pick up another photo of the man. Billy had given her some at her request. As she studied the handsome killer's face, she smiled a little and touched her cheek, telling him, "I guess I could say thank you for Faith..." She sighed, and then, sadly, "Too bad things turned out like this, huh? You could've been some sort of person, but now look at ya'. No one will remember you fondly. No one is going to grieve you. It's a shame, Naoshi. It really is. Because you could've been a beautiful person." And she dropped the piece of paper to the ground, walking away from it without a care.

The captured image continued to smile even after she had left it, a bittersweet memory in itself.

~~~~~

Alright, guys, it's a little sad (for me at least) but this story is OVER! Of course, I'll probably write an epilogue, but that's only if I get a decent amount of reviews. Hehe. Anyhow, review and tell me what you thought!