Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!
Myskin: Sorry this chapter was a while coming; school's started up again and your wonderful author has three, count 'em, three psych classes, not to mention statistics and painting. For the dubious, painting takes up a hell of a lot more time than you'd think, especially when it's one of your majors. Enough griping, I don't mean to displace my grumpiness upon my faithful audience; it's not your fault I'm frazzled (in case this last sentence hasn't tipped you off, the other major's in psych ^_^). Anyways, I'll do my best to update at least once a week, give or take. Patience, please! On my life I swear I will not forsake a single one of you! On to Chapter Six!
Tying Up Loose Ends
Chapter Six
Pain and Problems
Edy sat in the middle of the floor, panting, her entire body coated in a fine, cold sweat. Jerk Priest and Gnawed On Slept soundly, oblivious to the world and Edy's pain.
Why had she made that ridiculous offer to fix Gnawed On's old wound, the one that required metal supports to be placed through his chest? Paired with that thought was another one questioning the character of a man whose lifestyle called for such dramatic remedies. She hadn't even assessed the extent of either man's injuries before shooting her mouth off. A bullet wound, massive neck trauma, and two cases of rabies were more than enough to tax her abilities, not to mention the lacerations, bite marks, a sprain, some concussions, and more bruises than a healer could shake a stick at. Edy stood two steps away from bringing those two back from the dead.
She couldn't even get up and move to the waiting room on the other side of the entryway; a lovely, soft couch waited for her there, but the twenty feet between Edy and it was simply too much at the moment. So she continued to sit, her legs bent loosely up towards her chest and her body leaning forward onto her knees, drawing in minimal amounts of air. Edy glared from time to time at the two sources of her bane. Roscoe had fallen asleep in the doorway and snored loudly. Edy was envious. Not of the dog's ability to imitate a truck back-firing with his nose, but of the dog's incredible skill in conking out so soundly.
All she could do was watch the room as it remained in the exact same place it had been moments before. Even closing her eyes elicited a threat from her stomach to remove all of its contents in a very short and unpleasant span of time. Only Edy's willpower kept her breakfast in its rightful place. That, and the fact that she couldn't possibly get up and clean it at this time. The thought of leaving it registered far higher on the disgusting scale that putting it there, so she sat and stared at the sleeping strangers in her front room.
"They look so peaceful and innocent when they're sleeping," she thought. Of course, past experience proved to her that the more angelic a person looked while they slept, the less virtuous they were in waking life. Right then her eyes probably rested upon Satan's personal aides. Still, they were quite handsome.
Edy's door flew open with a bang for the second time that day, the bells cursing loudly in their high, harsh voices. Isaiah slid in on the rug, barely making the sharp right turn through the doorway and over Roscoe, effectively causing him to tumble gracelessly to the floor. The dog looked up for a moment and then went back to sleep, realizing it was only Isaiah and he'd have time to greet him later after his all-important nap was over. Isaiah pushed himself onto his knees, gasping and clutching at his chest, unable to speak for the moment. He looked paler than usual and frightened too; Edy also knew he was quite excited about something by the way his face couldn't settle on one expression.
"Isaiah, honey, what is it?" she asked, pushing aside her fatigue as best she could with the rather strong arm of anxiety. The boy, maybe twelve in appearance, held up his hand that wasn't dramatically clawing at his chest to tell her to hold on a moment. With a final gasp he drew in a healthy lungful of air and launched into some garbled story about a crazy man in a cave who thought Isaiah was his little brother.
"The guy's totally nutters, Edy. He talked to someone who wasn't there right in front of me and thought I was his mischievous sibling. The fever's eating his brain alive!" he exclaimed, melodramatic as usual. Edy sighed, not exactly sure what was going on or if it really was as bad as Isaiah claimed it to be. She made him slow down and repeat himself, but a little quieter so he wouldn't wake their "guests." Isaiah finally noticed the two men passed out in the room.
"Where's they come from?" he asked in a hushed whisper.
"Your guess is as good as mine, kiddo. They stumbled in on the edge of death and I couldn't turn them away."
"You never could turn away a good-looking fellow, could you, Edy?" Isaiah remarked with a devilish grin.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she almost screeched, blushing brilliantly as only a fair person can.
"Oh, come on Edy, I see the way you flirt with Jake whenever he brings by the groceries. What other reason would he have to go out of his way to bring our food to our doorstep? And Riley's always dropping by for a meal unannounced and you never kick him out. Don't forget Carl and Michael either!"
"Just because they, for some odd reason, enjoy my company doesn't mean I want to be romantically attached to a single one of them. And I don't flirt!"
Edy made to put the little imp in a headlock but stopped short, wincing and doing her best not to betray any other pain. Isaiah realized he had gone to far and Edy couldn't handle the excitement right then. He became serious again, returning to the problem surrounding his crazy man in a cave.
"I don't think he'll last much longer; can you come out and see him? I have the motorbike warmed up and she'll get us there in a couple of hours."
"If there's someone in need of my attention, he's going to have to come here," she said slowly, frustrated. "I'm not going to leave the house with these two nameless rogues in it alone and I'm most certainly not leaving you with them either."
"But the poor guy's too sick to even stand!"
"Then get Benny to drive out with you and put the guy in the back of Benny's truck."
"Benny's in New Isles, visiting his brother and baby nephew."
"What about Jake?"
"Tied up trying to tie down a new produce seller. Frank, George, Riley, and Richard can't do it either, before you ask."
Edy looked quizzically at him.
"What did you do, talk to everyone in the neighborhood who owns an automobile before you came home?"
"Pretty much."
"Well, all I can do is send you with a few things and hope it'll do until I can get to him or him to me."
"If you had started my apprenticeship by now this wouldn't have been a problem," Isaiah muttered in such an ill-tempered manner one could easily tell it was a well-worn argument that he brought up. Edy sighed and drew Isaiah to her, hugging him tight and resting her chin upon his head. He didn't fight her, even though he felt he was getting too old to be held by her like that, like she held him when he was a little boy.
"You know exactly why we haven't started that, Isaiah. You're only a year old; in another year you'll practically be grown and then we'll know better how to go about this."
"But you won't be." he interrupted and then cut short, pulling away enough to look her in the eyes. They never spoke about what they knew to be true. Edy tried to hide it from Isaiah, but he was too clever and figured it out anyways. Edy probably wouldn't be around in a year. No doctor or healer yet could figure out what was wrong with her, except that everything in her body seemed to be wearing out way too fast. She had good days and bad, but the good days were fewer and farther between. Edy's throat tightened but she ignored it, trying to avoid this topic like always.
"Let me get you what you need to take with you," she said, as she gently pushed Isaiah away and tried to get up. Isaiah stopped her and rubbed at his eyes, trying furiously to make the tears stop before they escaped down his cheek.
"Just tell me what I need, and I'll get it."
So Edy told Isaiah all the things he would have to use to help yet another foundling. The story of her life, it seemed. In that way she was a true Gardener; all the Edwinas had a very soft spot for orphans, strays, and anyone in need of any kind of help, big or small. It always amazed Edy to look at the old family albums and count the number of friends and new found family the Edwinas always had surrounding themselves. Oddly enough, no pictures of the Edwinas as children existed; Mom always said they were camera shy until they blossomed as young ladies. Edy accepted that like she did everything else anymore.
Isaiah headed for the door, a large satchel slung over his shoulder. Edy called him back into the front room with one more request before he left.
"A gin and tonic, would you, kiddo? Make it a little heavier on the gin this time."
Isaiah frowned inwardly but obeyed his sister. He didn't like the fact that Edy always had a drink after she worked, whether it was evening or not. He also didn't like the fact that she obviously over-did herself but she wouldn't, no, she couldn't ask him for any more help than to mix her a bloody drink. He knew her pride would be the death of her and that thought made him want to lay down and cry.
More a mother than a sister to him, Isaiah really only knew Edy as his family. He couldn't even remember Edy's father, the man who found him in that plant bulb and snuck him home to be raised like a child and not treated like a specimen free to be experimented upon. He refused to lose Edy that easily, but he could see her slip away slowly, day by day. She hurt a lot, and even though she wouldn't admit it even to herself, she looked forward to the day she could rest at last. Over the past few months Edy moved slower and slower, with more difficulty. It seemed that all Isaiah could do was watch Edy die.
Isaiah rode out with these thoughts pulling his heart down low. Edy had many of the same thoughts herself, and only an inkling as to why her body wasn't strong enough for this life. Her thoughts returned to teaching Isaiah.
The real reason why she hesitated in training Isaiah had nothing to do with his age or physical maturity. Edy worried that she didn't know enough to teach Isaiah. What if it didn't work? He obviously had the gift, as strong as Mom, but they weren't blood related. Edy had seen hints of his abilities but that didn't mean he could become a true Gardener. Edy didn't even feel like a true Gardener herself; how could someone incomplete make another whole?
She stared at the drink in her hand and then, in a fit, she threw herself up onto her feet and stumbled to the bathroom, dropping the glass along the way. Edy retched, hugging the toilet while sobbing and hating herself for giving up so easily on life, for wrapping herself up in her self-pity, and keeping Isaiah so far out of her arms' reach that she couldn't even see him anymore. Too much had happen over the course of one year; she had gotten so sick and he had gotten so big she hardly could make up lies fast enough to explain why one month she was caring for a baby, the next a toddler, the next an almost grown young man. The foundling precedent established by her foremothers helped make outsiders understand what they never cared to look too close at, but it didn't make it easy for Isaiah. Nothing had been easy for Isaiah. What kind of life could she possible give her dear little boy when she couldn't even live her own.
"Oh Isaiah, sweetie, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," she cried into the bowl of the toilet. "I don't know what to do anymore and I can't possibly help you now. I know so little! So little. Momma! Damn you! Why'd you leave me? Why'd you leave us! Dad couldn't handle this, he was just a plant worker, not a gifted man. He was so lost after you died!"
This ranting went on for sometime. Roscoe awoke from his slumber once more and flopped down next to Edy to provide some warm, fuzzy comfort and further fulfill his good doggy duties.
* * * * *
"What are you trying to do?" Rem asked from her seat by the entrance to the cave. She had come and gone so easily when Isaiah had been there, but once the boy left she settled down near the light and remained there. Knives had tried to ignore her presence but she wouldn't allow him any peace if he refused to respond. At least she didn't make him look at her.
"You know damn well what I'm trying to do," he snapped. He then paid for his harshness with a fit of coughing. He managed at last to stop and take a sip of water from the canteen Isaiah had left him before Rem spoke again.
"Pretend that I don't. Pretend that I'm Vash. How would you begin to tell him what you're planning."
"Vash knows. Vash knows I want to tear the humans right out of the sky the moment the ships are loaded down with their filthy cargo."
"At the cost of your kin? The plants that still live inside their bulbs?"
Knives grew silent and bitter. He didn't like what he had to do, but to have the strength to destroy those ships and then the rest, a few sacrifices would have to be made. They would understand, once their enslavement finally ended. They would; of course they would.
"She's coming, you know. She'll come and eventually he'll come, and together they will keep you from this task."
"Why do you speak riddles to me, Rem?!" Knives spat, finally flopping over to stare at her, hatred oozing from his crusty, weepy eyes. "Why do you haunt me?! Why not follow Vash around, he's still adhering to your heavenly gospel! Leave me to die in peace!"
A frightening light shown in his eyes as he struggled to reach her. He tried to make his blades unsheathe themselves from his arm but before he could lash out, he collapsed, panting. Too much, the effort was far too much for him. He laid there in the dust panting, as well as sobbing like a child who had gone long past its nap time. The pain, the sickness, the anger, the anguish, it all pressed down so heavy on him. He tried to curse Rem and all the other filthy humans for what they did to Tessla, to him, to his brother, all his grievances against their filthy species, but all that came out were guttural moans and howls. They pierced Isaiah's heart all the same.
Unbeknownst to Knives, Isaiah had run up in time to hear his last plea to the woman that Isaiah couldn't see. His knees shook at the sound and his courage almost left him; Isaiah had never seen a grown man act in such a way and it scared him as much as struck him with pity. He swallowed and spoke, trying to gain the man's attention somehow.
"Sir, I'm back, like I said I'd be. Edy couldn't come yet but I'll see what I can do."
It seemed that Knives hadn't heard Isaiah. It took him several minutes more to calm down. When at last Knives regained some control he burned with shame. He hadn't lost all connection with reality yet and he knew that this young boy had seen his ridiculous behavior. Struggling to roll onto his back, he breathed deeply and glared at Isaiah, disguising his self-loathing in his mistrust. Rem said this boy was not a human, but Knives saw no evidence to the contrary. Rem had lied to him before. Isaiah decided to speak and break the uneasy silence.
"I have some things to help with your infection a little and bring down the fever. And some food too; you look like you haven't eaten in days, sir. It's not much, but it'll do till she'll come."
Knives heard him parrot Rem's words from earlier, the riddle. He stood on guard even more now, but he let the boy come close. One little flick of his wrist and the boy's throat could be cut perfectly, more precise than the finest scalpel. Knives drew up what little reserves of energy he had and readied himself.
The attack never came. As much as he wanted to, Knives couldn't hurt Isaiah. He looked too much like Vash when he was that age. So Knives grudgingly allowed Isaiah to clean out his festering wounds with some foul smelling liquid and eagerly ate all three sandwiches the boy gave to him. He even drank down the bittersweet drink in the new canteen that Isaiah had pulled from the bag.
"Don't worry, sir. You'll sleep now, and I'll be back with Edy tomorrow afternoon. I promise," Isaiah assured him, already picking up the professional bedside manner from watching Edy work.
He knew he wasn't like Edy, though. Edy would never hesitate to help anyone in need, ever; she didn't even wait to get those two guys' names before she spent all her energy on them. Thoughts of Edy made his heart clench up in his chest and tears once again threaten to dampen his cheeks. He pushed it down, another skill he learned from Edy. Isaiah sat with the man until he drifted off to sleep and then gathered his things and headed out into the evening. It was almost nighttime and Isaiah didn't want to be out alone for too long. There had been rumors of Ravagers about and attacking humans, and he didn't want to meet those things anytime soon.
Myskin: Sorry this chapter was a while coming; school's started up again and your wonderful author has three, count 'em, three psych classes, not to mention statistics and painting. For the dubious, painting takes up a hell of a lot more time than you'd think, especially when it's one of your majors. Enough griping, I don't mean to displace my grumpiness upon my faithful audience; it's not your fault I'm frazzled (in case this last sentence hasn't tipped you off, the other major's in psych ^_^). Anyways, I'll do my best to update at least once a week, give or take. Patience, please! On my life I swear I will not forsake a single one of you! On to Chapter Six!
Tying Up Loose Ends
Chapter Six
Pain and Problems
Edy sat in the middle of the floor, panting, her entire body coated in a fine, cold sweat. Jerk Priest and Gnawed On Slept soundly, oblivious to the world and Edy's pain.
Why had she made that ridiculous offer to fix Gnawed On's old wound, the one that required metal supports to be placed through his chest? Paired with that thought was another one questioning the character of a man whose lifestyle called for such dramatic remedies. She hadn't even assessed the extent of either man's injuries before shooting her mouth off. A bullet wound, massive neck trauma, and two cases of rabies were more than enough to tax her abilities, not to mention the lacerations, bite marks, a sprain, some concussions, and more bruises than a healer could shake a stick at. Edy stood two steps away from bringing those two back from the dead.
She couldn't even get up and move to the waiting room on the other side of the entryway; a lovely, soft couch waited for her there, but the twenty feet between Edy and it was simply too much at the moment. So she continued to sit, her legs bent loosely up towards her chest and her body leaning forward onto her knees, drawing in minimal amounts of air. Edy glared from time to time at the two sources of her bane. Roscoe had fallen asleep in the doorway and snored loudly. Edy was envious. Not of the dog's ability to imitate a truck back-firing with his nose, but of the dog's incredible skill in conking out so soundly.
All she could do was watch the room as it remained in the exact same place it had been moments before. Even closing her eyes elicited a threat from her stomach to remove all of its contents in a very short and unpleasant span of time. Only Edy's willpower kept her breakfast in its rightful place. That, and the fact that she couldn't possibly get up and clean it at this time. The thought of leaving it registered far higher on the disgusting scale that putting it there, so she sat and stared at the sleeping strangers in her front room.
"They look so peaceful and innocent when they're sleeping," she thought. Of course, past experience proved to her that the more angelic a person looked while they slept, the less virtuous they were in waking life. Right then her eyes probably rested upon Satan's personal aides. Still, they were quite handsome.
Edy's door flew open with a bang for the second time that day, the bells cursing loudly in their high, harsh voices. Isaiah slid in on the rug, barely making the sharp right turn through the doorway and over Roscoe, effectively causing him to tumble gracelessly to the floor. The dog looked up for a moment and then went back to sleep, realizing it was only Isaiah and he'd have time to greet him later after his all-important nap was over. Isaiah pushed himself onto his knees, gasping and clutching at his chest, unable to speak for the moment. He looked paler than usual and frightened too; Edy also knew he was quite excited about something by the way his face couldn't settle on one expression.
"Isaiah, honey, what is it?" she asked, pushing aside her fatigue as best she could with the rather strong arm of anxiety. The boy, maybe twelve in appearance, held up his hand that wasn't dramatically clawing at his chest to tell her to hold on a moment. With a final gasp he drew in a healthy lungful of air and launched into some garbled story about a crazy man in a cave who thought Isaiah was his little brother.
"The guy's totally nutters, Edy. He talked to someone who wasn't there right in front of me and thought I was his mischievous sibling. The fever's eating his brain alive!" he exclaimed, melodramatic as usual. Edy sighed, not exactly sure what was going on or if it really was as bad as Isaiah claimed it to be. She made him slow down and repeat himself, but a little quieter so he wouldn't wake their "guests." Isaiah finally noticed the two men passed out in the room.
"Where's they come from?" he asked in a hushed whisper.
"Your guess is as good as mine, kiddo. They stumbled in on the edge of death and I couldn't turn them away."
"You never could turn away a good-looking fellow, could you, Edy?" Isaiah remarked with a devilish grin.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she almost screeched, blushing brilliantly as only a fair person can.
"Oh, come on Edy, I see the way you flirt with Jake whenever he brings by the groceries. What other reason would he have to go out of his way to bring our food to our doorstep? And Riley's always dropping by for a meal unannounced and you never kick him out. Don't forget Carl and Michael either!"
"Just because they, for some odd reason, enjoy my company doesn't mean I want to be romantically attached to a single one of them. And I don't flirt!"
Edy made to put the little imp in a headlock but stopped short, wincing and doing her best not to betray any other pain. Isaiah realized he had gone to far and Edy couldn't handle the excitement right then. He became serious again, returning to the problem surrounding his crazy man in a cave.
"I don't think he'll last much longer; can you come out and see him? I have the motorbike warmed up and she'll get us there in a couple of hours."
"If there's someone in need of my attention, he's going to have to come here," she said slowly, frustrated. "I'm not going to leave the house with these two nameless rogues in it alone and I'm most certainly not leaving you with them either."
"But the poor guy's too sick to even stand!"
"Then get Benny to drive out with you and put the guy in the back of Benny's truck."
"Benny's in New Isles, visiting his brother and baby nephew."
"What about Jake?"
"Tied up trying to tie down a new produce seller. Frank, George, Riley, and Richard can't do it either, before you ask."
Edy looked quizzically at him.
"What did you do, talk to everyone in the neighborhood who owns an automobile before you came home?"
"Pretty much."
"Well, all I can do is send you with a few things and hope it'll do until I can get to him or him to me."
"If you had started my apprenticeship by now this wouldn't have been a problem," Isaiah muttered in such an ill-tempered manner one could easily tell it was a well-worn argument that he brought up. Edy sighed and drew Isaiah to her, hugging him tight and resting her chin upon his head. He didn't fight her, even though he felt he was getting too old to be held by her like that, like she held him when he was a little boy.
"You know exactly why we haven't started that, Isaiah. You're only a year old; in another year you'll practically be grown and then we'll know better how to go about this."
"But you won't be." he interrupted and then cut short, pulling away enough to look her in the eyes. They never spoke about what they knew to be true. Edy tried to hide it from Isaiah, but he was too clever and figured it out anyways. Edy probably wouldn't be around in a year. No doctor or healer yet could figure out what was wrong with her, except that everything in her body seemed to be wearing out way too fast. She had good days and bad, but the good days were fewer and farther between. Edy's throat tightened but she ignored it, trying to avoid this topic like always.
"Let me get you what you need to take with you," she said, as she gently pushed Isaiah away and tried to get up. Isaiah stopped her and rubbed at his eyes, trying furiously to make the tears stop before they escaped down his cheek.
"Just tell me what I need, and I'll get it."
So Edy told Isaiah all the things he would have to use to help yet another foundling. The story of her life, it seemed. In that way she was a true Gardener; all the Edwinas had a very soft spot for orphans, strays, and anyone in need of any kind of help, big or small. It always amazed Edy to look at the old family albums and count the number of friends and new found family the Edwinas always had surrounding themselves. Oddly enough, no pictures of the Edwinas as children existed; Mom always said they were camera shy until they blossomed as young ladies. Edy accepted that like she did everything else anymore.
Isaiah headed for the door, a large satchel slung over his shoulder. Edy called him back into the front room with one more request before he left.
"A gin and tonic, would you, kiddo? Make it a little heavier on the gin this time."
Isaiah frowned inwardly but obeyed his sister. He didn't like the fact that Edy always had a drink after she worked, whether it was evening or not. He also didn't like the fact that she obviously over-did herself but she wouldn't, no, she couldn't ask him for any more help than to mix her a bloody drink. He knew her pride would be the death of her and that thought made him want to lay down and cry.
More a mother than a sister to him, Isaiah really only knew Edy as his family. He couldn't even remember Edy's father, the man who found him in that plant bulb and snuck him home to be raised like a child and not treated like a specimen free to be experimented upon. He refused to lose Edy that easily, but he could see her slip away slowly, day by day. She hurt a lot, and even though she wouldn't admit it even to herself, she looked forward to the day she could rest at last. Over the past few months Edy moved slower and slower, with more difficulty. It seemed that all Isaiah could do was watch Edy die.
Isaiah rode out with these thoughts pulling his heart down low. Edy had many of the same thoughts herself, and only an inkling as to why her body wasn't strong enough for this life. Her thoughts returned to teaching Isaiah.
The real reason why she hesitated in training Isaiah had nothing to do with his age or physical maturity. Edy worried that she didn't know enough to teach Isaiah. What if it didn't work? He obviously had the gift, as strong as Mom, but they weren't blood related. Edy had seen hints of his abilities but that didn't mean he could become a true Gardener. Edy didn't even feel like a true Gardener herself; how could someone incomplete make another whole?
She stared at the drink in her hand and then, in a fit, she threw herself up onto her feet and stumbled to the bathroom, dropping the glass along the way. Edy retched, hugging the toilet while sobbing and hating herself for giving up so easily on life, for wrapping herself up in her self-pity, and keeping Isaiah so far out of her arms' reach that she couldn't even see him anymore. Too much had happen over the course of one year; she had gotten so sick and he had gotten so big she hardly could make up lies fast enough to explain why one month she was caring for a baby, the next a toddler, the next an almost grown young man. The foundling precedent established by her foremothers helped make outsiders understand what they never cared to look too close at, but it didn't make it easy for Isaiah. Nothing had been easy for Isaiah. What kind of life could she possible give her dear little boy when she couldn't even live her own.
"Oh Isaiah, sweetie, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," she cried into the bowl of the toilet. "I don't know what to do anymore and I can't possibly help you now. I know so little! So little. Momma! Damn you! Why'd you leave me? Why'd you leave us! Dad couldn't handle this, he was just a plant worker, not a gifted man. He was so lost after you died!"
This ranting went on for sometime. Roscoe awoke from his slumber once more and flopped down next to Edy to provide some warm, fuzzy comfort and further fulfill his good doggy duties.
* * * * *
"What are you trying to do?" Rem asked from her seat by the entrance to the cave. She had come and gone so easily when Isaiah had been there, but once the boy left she settled down near the light and remained there. Knives had tried to ignore her presence but she wouldn't allow him any peace if he refused to respond. At least she didn't make him look at her.
"You know damn well what I'm trying to do," he snapped. He then paid for his harshness with a fit of coughing. He managed at last to stop and take a sip of water from the canteen Isaiah had left him before Rem spoke again.
"Pretend that I don't. Pretend that I'm Vash. How would you begin to tell him what you're planning."
"Vash knows. Vash knows I want to tear the humans right out of the sky the moment the ships are loaded down with their filthy cargo."
"At the cost of your kin? The plants that still live inside their bulbs?"
Knives grew silent and bitter. He didn't like what he had to do, but to have the strength to destroy those ships and then the rest, a few sacrifices would have to be made. They would understand, once their enslavement finally ended. They would; of course they would.
"She's coming, you know. She'll come and eventually he'll come, and together they will keep you from this task."
"Why do you speak riddles to me, Rem?!" Knives spat, finally flopping over to stare at her, hatred oozing from his crusty, weepy eyes. "Why do you haunt me?! Why not follow Vash around, he's still adhering to your heavenly gospel! Leave me to die in peace!"
A frightening light shown in his eyes as he struggled to reach her. He tried to make his blades unsheathe themselves from his arm but before he could lash out, he collapsed, panting. Too much, the effort was far too much for him. He laid there in the dust panting, as well as sobbing like a child who had gone long past its nap time. The pain, the sickness, the anger, the anguish, it all pressed down so heavy on him. He tried to curse Rem and all the other filthy humans for what they did to Tessla, to him, to his brother, all his grievances against their filthy species, but all that came out were guttural moans and howls. They pierced Isaiah's heart all the same.
Unbeknownst to Knives, Isaiah had run up in time to hear his last plea to the woman that Isaiah couldn't see. His knees shook at the sound and his courage almost left him; Isaiah had never seen a grown man act in such a way and it scared him as much as struck him with pity. He swallowed and spoke, trying to gain the man's attention somehow.
"Sir, I'm back, like I said I'd be. Edy couldn't come yet but I'll see what I can do."
It seemed that Knives hadn't heard Isaiah. It took him several minutes more to calm down. When at last Knives regained some control he burned with shame. He hadn't lost all connection with reality yet and he knew that this young boy had seen his ridiculous behavior. Struggling to roll onto his back, he breathed deeply and glared at Isaiah, disguising his self-loathing in his mistrust. Rem said this boy was not a human, but Knives saw no evidence to the contrary. Rem had lied to him before. Isaiah decided to speak and break the uneasy silence.
"I have some things to help with your infection a little and bring down the fever. And some food too; you look like you haven't eaten in days, sir. It's not much, but it'll do till she'll come."
Knives heard him parrot Rem's words from earlier, the riddle. He stood on guard even more now, but he let the boy come close. One little flick of his wrist and the boy's throat could be cut perfectly, more precise than the finest scalpel. Knives drew up what little reserves of energy he had and readied himself.
The attack never came. As much as he wanted to, Knives couldn't hurt Isaiah. He looked too much like Vash when he was that age. So Knives grudgingly allowed Isaiah to clean out his festering wounds with some foul smelling liquid and eagerly ate all three sandwiches the boy gave to him. He even drank down the bittersweet drink in the new canteen that Isaiah had pulled from the bag.
"Don't worry, sir. You'll sleep now, and I'll be back with Edy tomorrow afternoon. I promise," Isaiah assured him, already picking up the professional bedside manner from watching Edy work.
He knew he wasn't like Edy, though. Edy would never hesitate to help anyone in need, ever; she didn't even wait to get those two guys' names before she spent all her energy on them. Thoughts of Edy made his heart clench up in his chest and tears once again threaten to dampen his cheeks. He pushed it down, another skill he learned from Edy. Isaiah sat with the man until he drifted off to sleep and then gathered his things and headed out into the evening. It was almost nighttime and Isaiah didn't want to be out alone for too long. There had been rumors of Ravagers about and attacking humans, and he didn't want to meet those things anytime soon.