Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!
Myshkin: Just a quick note to tell all who review that I really, really appreciate it. Thanks so much for letting me know people actually read (and enjoy) my humble story!
Tying Up Loose Ends
Chapter Eight
Flower and Power
The fever broke several hours after Isaiah had left Knives for the evening. Although his infections pained him and his body temperature still rested above normal, the inevitability of death had been put off once again.
He lay there, huddled in upon himself and miserable, too hot to sleep but no longer sick enough for an imaginary being to keep him company; even though it had to be that contemptible woman, she had been better than no one. Even shouting at someone seemed better than being left to his own thoughts. Memories of the past several days slipped in and out of his consciousness like slides dropping from their carousel into a projector and back out again. There would be a flash of something, then it was gone, replaced by another.
He couldn't believe the way he acted around that boy, the shame of it searing him, raising nasty blisters on his ego. He acted like a raving, childish lunatic in front of a lesser being; Knives still couldn't believe he had stayed his blades from Isaiah's throat. Those ridiculous hallucinations of Rem and her foolish words about the boy's true self, that he was a plant too, they echoed through Knives' tired brain, refusing to leave. How could he have fallen for the tales of a figment of his own imagination?
Not wishing to think much longer, Knives unfolded his body from its fetal position and crawled slowly, laboriously towards the new things Isaiah had left him. Several canteens sat next to a large canvas duffel bag that bulged from the contents within. Opening each canteen to examine their contents he found two had plain water and the last held the same bittersweet draught that had dulled his pain and put him to sleep. A note had been attached to this one with directions on dosage. Setting these aside he began to rummage through the bag. Isaiah had left him a blanket, some more food, several volumes of old Earth literature, lamp oil, matches, and wicks.
Upon finding the lamp materials Knives looked around to realize that he could see, even though it was quite possibly midnight or later. An old oil lamp sat in the back of the cave, about four feet from Knives and the rest of Isaiah's "gifts." It gave off a pathetically weak glow but it made him feel better, knowing he had a light source. Knives wasn't afraid of the dark so much as he preferred the light.
Not really wishing to read those books but not really wanting to think anymore he picked up the one on the top and scooted closer to the lamp, dragging the blanket along to roll it into a make-shift cushion. The cover declared it to be of Ancient Italian decent, if his education from his childhood served him correctly. Dante's "Inferno." Sounded abysmally depressing. Still, he flipped it open to the first chapter and began reading the translated portions on the left page, occasionally glancing at the original Italian on the right. He didn't remember enough of the archaic language to read it completely in its original form, but he gleamed small pleasures from recognizing small passages from time to time.
Time passed quickly, the oil level dropping lower and lower in the lamp until the flame barely gave off enough light to recognize vague forms, let alone the words on the page. Knives had drifted of into sleep at last, his chin dropping to his chest as he sat with his back to the cavern wall and the book open on his lap. Dante's perilous journey through Hell no longer occupied Knives' mind as he dreamt of other things.
Knives found himself in the middle of a huge ocean, the waves rushing and tumbling about him, trying to drag down his disastrously boat-less form. He kicked and clawed furiously at the water, but to no avail. Knives slipped beneath the water and slowly but irreversibly sank further down into the enveloping darkness. It was cold, so cold, and darker than the deepest night. The pressure intensified, crushing the air from his lungs. He began to pass out when something soft grazed his lips, his nose. A great swell of air rushed through his lungs, filling his body out again and allowing it to fight against the overwhelming grip of the water. Knives gasped without drawing in water and his body ceased its decent. At last he summoned the courage to open his eyes and see what saved his life.
All he could see before him was a white blossom, large and wonderfully fragrant even underwater, and the hands that held it to his face. The darkness consumed the rest of his savior's body except for what the flower seemed to illuminate: delicate, pale wrists, slender hands, and long, feminine fingers held forth the large bloom to envelop the lower half of his face. Although his botany lessons were so long ago, something in his mind or possible from without, told him that whomever she was, she held forth a gardenia.
"Who are you," he asked slowly and without speaking aloud. The reply came to him in the same manner, a silent answer in his mind. Locks of long black hair ebbed and flowed their way in and out of the gardenia's halo of light. The tone was strong, gentle, and beautiful all at the same time, but sad as well.
"One who is gone from this world but was once like you."
"A plant?"
"She'll come and eventually he'll come, and together they will keep you from this task," the voice said without answer his question. Knives' eyes widened as he recalled his hallucination of Rem said almost the same exact thing. The voice went on, ignoring his reaction. "Through her I will spare your life although I know you will destroy my only daughter. This is our way, one of endless sacrifice and salvation; he knows this already without knowing."
The voice faded from his mind and the hands left, slipping away into the abyss, leaving the gardenia pressed gently to his lips. Knives struggled to reach out, to pursue this woman that spoke directly to his heart, but he only succeeded in knocking away the flower, sending its petals scattering in the current that sudden flowed to life around him. Again that horrible pressing sensation clamped down around his body as he sank once more. Almost all breath and life left him before Knives awoke in a cold sweat back in his cave in the middle of the dry, barren wasteland called Gunsmoke.
* * * * *
Edy led the boys through the double doors from the kitchen into the living room, lighting the wall-mounted oil lamps as she went. Isaiah trailed closely behind his sister, protectively keeping himself between her and the two men. He was always wary of new people, especially when they socialized with Edy. She limped ever so slightly as she moved around the room, but never once let her upright posture dip below its usual level of proud and self-assured. Vash peered around Isaiah, watching her actions with a curious look on his face and wondering why she didn't use power from the plant to light her home. Edy caught his questioning look and laughed, slightly embarrassed.
"This probably sounds ridiculous and all plant-huggerish, but I don't use plant energy anywhere in the house; that's the reason for the lamps and fireplaces in nearly every room. Its sort of a tradition passed on from the Edwinas of the past, my mother, grandmother, and great grandmother. The grounds have an old well and excellent pumping systems for water, oil lamps and candles light the way, obscenely expensive natural gas lines, and a fire place in almost every room keeps us warm on the colder nights or when we're trying to save on the gas bill. I've never had the money or inclination to switch over to plant-energy, so I just kept it the way it is." She knew she was rambling, but she couldn't seem to stop herself as more words tumbled out.
"That reminds me, I'll have to start heating a bath now if either of you want to bathe in about a half an hour, before you go to bed of course. I'm sorry it's so late, I completely forgot about baths for you two, what with dinner and everything."
Neither Vash nor Wolfwood could hold back a smile from this woman. She was putting so much of herself out and seemed to honestly think she couldn't do enough.
"You apologize too much," Vash replied in a kindly reproach. "A bath would be lovely but at least let me help you."
Edy nodded vaguely, probably accepting his offer. They all turned then to Wolfwood to witness his silent reply; He held up his hands and shook his head no, an obvious signal that he decided to decline on the offer. Edy had apparently cleaned them up as best as she could while they slept earlier because the bulk of the grime and nastiness had disappeared. Wolfwood had become accustomed to bathing very little so this felt wonderfully dirt- free; his eyelids agreed whole-heartedly as they tried to snap shut on him every few seconds. Although he had been awake just long enough to grab a drink and a few bites to eat, Wolfwood felt completely exhausted and ready to sleep another day away.
Taking notice of and pity on the poor man, Edy showed him the spare bedroom off the living room where he and Vash would sleep. It cozily engulfed the two twin beds with their clean, turned-back sheets, as well as a moderately sized dresser, a bedside table, and an obnoxious old lamp make of crudely painted glass blown into ridiculous figures that chased each other around the ceramic base. Although the lamp looked like a yard sale gone horribly, horribly wrong, condensed in this one lamp, the light it gave off sent lovely patches of color across the walls and ceilings when Edy touched match to wick. Noticing his thinly veiled amusement/horror, she mumbled something about a childhood relic and then left Wolfwood to himself.
"If you need anything, my room's at the top of the stairs, first door on the right," she said, punctuating her sentence with the click of the catch as she closed the door behind her. Alone and exhausted, Wolfwood fell into bed without undressing even a little bit and dropped off to sleep almost immediately. No dreams would come to him and not even Vash coming in only an hour or so before sunrise couldn't wake the poor man. Wolfwood was down for the night and most of the following morning as well.
Back in the living room, Edy found Isaiah eyeing Vash in a most distrustful manner. The spiky-haired man whistled poorly and tried to look around the room at anyone but that intense boy. Isaiah tore his gaze away from Vash when Edy entered and she threw him a disparaging look while sticking out her tongue at him. He fumed silently at the both of them and then spoke, his speech clipped and annoyed.
"If you can take care of yourself then, Edy, I'm going to bed. Come on Roscoe." In a huff he stomped up the stairs and all the way down the second floor hallway. For a while they continued to hear his heavy, angry movements above them until at last he finally seemed to have gone to sleep, or cooled off. Edy couldn't stay annoyed at him when he acted like such a two-year old; he certainly picked up the occasional persnickety flashes from her real quick. He may not have been her blood-child, but she saw so much of herself in him.
"Cute kid," Vash muttered after Isaiah had left the room. Edy laughed out loud; her expression was strained but the emotion was there. Vash could tell that Edy really didn't feel as good as she pretended, so he decided to move things along in order to get her to bed sooner. Vash gently took her arm.
"Which way to the bathroom?" he asked, his voice light. Edy stiffened from the sudden contact and the unbidden aid. She wanted to pull away, ashamed that he sensed her weakness, surprised at the feeling of his touch against her bare arm. Still, her body convinced her that allowing this man to help her up the stairs was for the best. She had been worried about that daunting task for the latter half of the evening; now that she had an audience her pride wouldn't allow her fail, and she most certainly would not stumble.
"It's at the top of the stairs, next to my bedroom. Funny how this house only has one bathroom, but everyone seemed to do alright, even when there was a full house." Edy started to walk towards the kitchen and Vash fell in step. They made their way slowly to the stairs and then slowly up them, neither mentioning the unsavory pace but only chatting away again like they had in the kitchen.
Vash talked now of the happy times of his childhood with his brother Knives and Rem, his surrogate mother, feeling it only fair since Edy shared so much during their prolonged dinner together. As with Edy, the version he told was heavily edited and Edy knew that, but she didn't press. They arrived at the bathroom; as soon as they were inside the spacious room Edy sat down on a small bench beside the tub, leaning over to turn on the water faucet. As the water began to fill the tub she twisted another couple of knobs set in the side of the huge basin, just above floor level. Vash assumed these controlled whatever heated the water, but didn't really care enough to ask. They continued to talk and he began telling her about how he loved to sit for hours with Rem and his twin brother when they were both younger.
"Ah, siblings," Edy sighed, "they try your patience but you can't help but love them. I'm lucky to still have Isaiah around; do you see your brother often?"
Vash grew silent in his seat on the edge of the tub. He played with the water behind him as he answered in a quiet voice, not wishing to lie to this kind woman but obviously unable to tell her the truth. There was just something about her that tugged at all his thoughts and secrets, making it hard to keep them hidden; he actually wanted to tell her everything, get it off his chest, and be done with it. It felt so good to finally talk to someone besides Knives or Wolfwood, like she was a neutral third party so removed from the dilemma that maybe she could figure everything out. Against his better judgment, he began to spill a large majority of the beans.
"He had actually been staying with me for the past seven months or so; he had gotten really sick and needed someone to take care of him and I was the only one who could do it. Knives is. a special case. He doesn't exactly get along well with others and no one could really deal with him the way a brother could. He disappeared a few nights ago with hardly a trace and most certainly no clues; I don't remember exactly when considering how much of it has been a blur of sand storms, wandering, pain and unconsciousness. I'm really worried about him so I've been trying to find out where Knives went. Wolfwood's an old friend of mine, and a, well, an old business partner of Knives, so when he happened to find me at the bottom of a pile of Ravagers, he decided to help me find Knives. Long story short, we found you and here we are. And I still haven't a clue where Knives could be."
The only sound that came from the bathroom for a while was the running water. At last that stopped when Edy pushed herself up off the bench and reached past Vash to turn the knob.
"What can I do to help?" she asked at last, subdued but in earnest. She knew he wasn't soliciting her help, but she felt obligated to do something even if there existed no better reason than she understood the strength of sibling bonds. Her heart was breaking for Vash, thinking he must be worried sick over his missing brother.
"You've done more than enough already to help," Vash replied, kind but firm. "Just getting Wolfwood and I back on our feet has been plenty."
"Well," she reasoned, not letting the idea go now that it had entered her head, "if he's sick he'll need kelp when you find him. Let me come with you."
"No. Not only is it too dangerous, Isaiah, Roscoe, hell, all of February needs you here."
"Then at least come back and see me," she almost shouted, getting irritated my his perpetually calm manner. Too dangerous? She could take care of herself. One thing her father had been good for was teaching her how to fight; she was pretty handy with fist and firearm alike. Obviously he wasn't going to give in, though; too damn chivalrous, this one was. "I'll want to know how you're up to. Bring your Knives here for medical help if it's possible. You know how good I am; I'm better than any doctor in February, and probably on this entire planet too."
Vash remained silent, neither answering or denying. He'd like to come back and spend some more time talking with this interesting woman, sitting in her pleasant kitchen, eating her wonderful food. Her life seemed relatively quiet but complete and she had plenty of people she cared for with both her hands and her heart. Vash cursed yet again his inexplicable ability to make friends with all the wrong people; wrong in the sense that they were too good to be put in danger through associating with him.
Edy stood up suddenly and muttered something about the bath being almost ready and she needed to go to bed. She shut the bathroom door behind her, closing in Vash's plaintive stare and then stumbled, falling to her knees. Embarrassed, frustrated, tired, and in pain, she began to cry, unable to stop herself despite the fact that she knew Vash could probably hear her. She almost literally crawled into her bedroom and as quickly as possible changed into her bedclothes. Tears still streaming down her cheeks, she pulled herself into bed and lay awake for several more hours from the pain before she passed out, just before the suns peeked in through her window.
Vash heard her crying and he wanted to run out and comfort her, but he sensed it wasn't his place to intervene; she'd probably get mad at him, madder than she already seemed. It tugged at him in such a painful way and again he caught himself wondering why this woman wanted to push herself so terribly far for his sake. She confused him too. He bathed for a long time, contemplating her as well as all the other problems that plague him.
* * * * *
Myshkin: Oh yeah, I finally finished my web page, so go check it out! (www.angelfire.com/indie/pendantliving0/index.html) It has the fic, some of my art (more to come, I promise!), as well as some other stuff. It's still trying out it's web legs so I hope everything works out ok. Anyways, enjoy!
Myshkin: Just a quick note to tell all who review that I really, really appreciate it. Thanks so much for letting me know people actually read (and enjoy) my humble story!
Tying Up Loose Ends
Chapter Eight
Flower and Power
The fever broke several hours after Isaiah had left Knives for the evening. Although his infections pained him and his body temperature still rested above normal, the inevitability of death had been put off once again.
He lay there, huddled in upon himself and miserable, too hot to sleep but no longer sick enough for an imaginary being to keep him company; even though it had to be that contemptible woman, she had been better than no one. Even shouting at someone seemed better than being left to his own thoughts. Memories of the past several days slipped in and out of his consciousness like slides dropping from their carousel into a projector and back out again. There would be a flash of something, then it was gone, replaced by another.
He couldn't believe the way he acted around that boy, the shame of it searing him, raising nasty blisters on his ego. He acted like a raving, childish lunatic in front of a lesser being; Knives still couldn't believe he had stayed his blades from Isaiah's throat. Those ridiculous hallucinations of Rem and her foolish words about the boy's true self, that he was a plant too, they echoed through Knives' tired brain, refusing to leave. How could he have fallen for the tales of a figment of his own imagination?
Not wishing to think much longer, Knives unfolded his body from its fetal position and crawled slowly, laboriously towards the new things Isaiah had left him. Several canteens sat next to a large canvas duffel bag that bulged from the contents within. Opening each canteen to examine their contents he found two had plain water and the last held the same bittersweet draught that had dulled his pain and put him to sleep. A note had been attached to this one with directions on dosage. Setting these aside he began to rummage through the bag. Isaiah had left him a blanket, some more food, several volumes of old Earth literature, lamp oil, matches, and wicks.
Upon finding the lamp materials Knives looked around to realize that he could see, even though it was quite possibly midnight or later. An old oil lamp sat in the back of the cave, about four feet from Knives and the rest of Isaiah's "gifts." It gave off a pathetically weak glow but it made him feel better, knowing he had a light source. Knives wasn't afraid of the dark so much as he preferred the light.
Not really wishing to read those books but not really wanting to think anymore he picked up the one on the top and scooted closer to the lamp, dragging the blanket along to roll it into a make-shift cushion. The cover declared it to be of Ancient Italian decent, if his education from his childhood served him correctly. Dante's "Inferno." Sounded abysmally depressing. Still, he flipped it open to the first chapter and began reading the translated portions on the left page, occasionally glancing at the original Italian on the right. He didn't remember enough of the archaic language to read it completely in its original form, but he gleamed small pleasures from recognizing small passages from time to time.
Time passed quickly, the oil level dropping lower and lower in the lamp until the flame barely gave off enough light to recognize vague forms, let alone the words on the page. Knives had drifted of into sleep at last, his chin dropping to his chest as he sat with his back to the cavern wall and the book open on his lap. Dante's perilous journey through Hell no longer occupied Knives' mind as he dreamt of other things.
Knives found himself in the middle of a huge ocean, the waves rushing and tumbling about him, trying to drag down his disastrously boat-less form. He kicked and clawed furiously at the water, but to no avail. Knives slipped beneath the water and slowly but irreversibly sank further down into the enveloping darkness. It was cold, so cold, and darker than the deepest night. The pressure intensified, crushing the air from his lungs. He began to pass out when something soft grazed his lips, his nose. A great swell of air rushed through his lungs, filling his body out again and allowing it to fight against the overwhelming grip of the water. Knives gasped without drawing in water and his body ceased its decent. At last he summoned the courage to open his eyes and see what saved his life.
All he could see before him was a white blossom, large and wonderfully fragrant even underwater, and the hands that held it to his face. The darkness consumed the rest of his savior's body except for what the flower seemed to illuminate: delicate, pale wrists, slender hands, and long, feminine fingers held forth the large bloom to envelop the lower half of his face. Although his botany lessons were so long ago, something in his mind or possible from without, told him that whomever she was, she held forth a gardenia.
"Who are you," he asked slowly and without speaking aloud. The reply came to him in the same manner, a silent answer in his mind. Locks of long black hair ebbed and flowed their way in and out of the gardenia's halo of light. The tone was strong, gentle, and beautiful all at the same time, but sad as well.
"One who is gone from this world but was once like you."
"A plant?"
"She'll come and eventually he'll come, and together they will keep you from this task," the voice said without answer his question. Knives' eyes widened as he recalled his hallucination of Rem said almost the same exact thing. The voice went on, ignoring his reaction. "Through her I will spare your life although I know you will destroy my only daughter. This is our way, one of endless sacrifice and salvation; he knows this already without knowing."
The voice faded from his mind and the hands left, slipping away into the abyss, leaving the gardenia pressed gently to his lips. Knives struggled to reach out, to pursue this woman that spoke directly to his heart, but he only succeeded in knocking away the flower, sending its petals scattering in the current that sudden flowed to life around him. Again that horrible pressing sensation clamped down around his body as he sank once more. Almost all breath and life left him before Knives awoke in a cold sweat back in his cave in the middle of the dry, barren wasteland called Gunsmoke.
* * * * *
Edy led the boys through the double doors from the kitchen into the living room, lighting the wall-mounted oil lamps as she went. Isaiah trailed closely behind his sister, protectively keeping himself between her and the two men. He was always wary of new people, especially when they socialized with Edy. She limped ever so slightly as she moved around the room, but never once let her upright posture dip below its usual level of proud and self-assured. Vash peered around Isaiah, watching her actions with a curious look on his face and wondering why she didn't use power from the plant to light her home. Edy caught his questioning look and laughed, slightly embarrassed.
"This probably sounds ridiculous and all plant-huggerish, but I don't use plant energy anywhere in the house; that's the reason for the lamps and fireplaces in nearly every room. Its sort of a tradition passed on from the Edwinas of the past, my mother, grandmother, and great grandmother. The grounds have an old well and excellent pumping systems for water, oil lamps and candles light the way, obscenely expensive natural gas lines, and a fire place in almost every room keeps us warm on the colder nights or when we're trying to save on the gas bill. I've never had the money or inclination to switch over to plant-energy, so I just kept it the way it is." She knew she was rambling, but she couldn't seem to stop herself as more words tumbled out.
"That reminds me, I'll have to start heating a bath now if either of you want to bathe in about a half an hour, before you go to bed of course. I'm sorry it's so late, I completely forgot about baths for you two, what with dinner and everything."
Neither Vash nor Wolfwood could hold back a smile from this woman. She was putting so much of herself out and seemed to honestly think she couldn't do enough.
"You apologize too much," Vash replied in a kindly reproach. "A bath would be lovely but at least let me help you."
Edy nodded vaguely, probably accepting his offer. They all turned then to Wolfwood to witness his silent reply; He held up his hands and shook his head no, an obvious signal that he decided to decline on the offer. Edy had apparently cleaned them up as best as she could while they slept earlier because the bulk of the grime and nastiness had disappeared. Wolfwood had become accustomed to bathing very little so this felt wonderfully dirt- free; his eyelids agreed whole-heartedly as they tried to snap shut on him every few seconds. Although he had been awake just long enough to grab a drink and a few bites to eat, Wolfwood felt completely exhausted and ready to sleep another day away.
Taking notice of and pity on the poor man, Edy showed him the spare bedroom off the living room where he and Vash would sleep. It cozily engulfed the two twin beds with their clean, turned-back sheets, as well as a moderately sized dresser, a bedside table, and an obnoxious old lamp make of crudely painted glass blown into ridiculous figures that chased each other around the ceramic base. Although the lamp looked like a yard sale gone horribly, horribly wrong, condensed in this one lamp, the light it gave off sent lovely patches of color across the walls and ceilings when Edy touched match to wick. Noticing his thinly veiled amusement/horror, she mumbled something about a childhood relic and then left Wolfwood to himself.
"If you need anything, my room's at the top of the stairs, first door on the right," she said, punctuating her sentence with the click of the catch as she closed the door behind her. Alone and exhausted, Wolfwood fell into bed without undressing even a little bit and dropped off to sleep almost immediately. No dreams would come to him and not even Vash coming in only an hour or so before sunrise couldn't wake the poor man. Wolfwood was down for the night and most of the following morning as well.
Back in the living room, Edy found Isaiah eyeing Vash in a most distrustful manner. The spiky-haired man whistled poorly and tried to look around the room at anyone but that intense boy. Isaiah tore his gaze away from Vash when Edy entered and she threw him a disparaging look while sticking out her tongue at him. He fumed silently at the both of them and then spoke, his speech clipped and annoyed.
"If you can take care of yourself then, Edy, I'm going to bed. Come on Roscoe." In a huff he stomped up the stairs and all the way down the second floor hallway. For a while they continued to hear his heavy, angry movements above them until at last he finally seemed to have gone to sleep, or cooled off. Edy couldn't stay annoyed at him when he acted like such a two-year old; he certainly picked up the occasional persnickety flashes from her real quick. He may not have been her blood-child, but she saw so much of herself in him.
"Cute kid," Vash muttered after Isaiah had left the room. Edy laughed out loud; her expression was strained but the emotion was there. Vash could tell that Edy really didn't feel as good as she pretended, so he decided to move things along in order to get her to bed sooner. Vash gently took her arm.
"Which way to the bathroom?" he asked, his voice light. Edy stiffened from the sudden contact and the unbidden aid. She wanted to pull away, ashamed that he sensed her weakness, surprised at the feeling of his touch against her bare arm. Still, her body convinced her that allowing this man to help her up the stairs was for the best. She had been worried about that daunting task for the latter half of the evening; now that she had an audience her pride wouldn't allow her fail, and she most certainly would not stumble.
"It's at the top of the stairs, next to my bedroom. Funny how this house only has one bathroom, but everyone seemed to do alright, even when there was a full house." Edy started to walk towards the kitchen and Vash fell in step. They made their way slowly to the stairs and then slowly up them, neither mentioning the unsavory pace but only chatting away again like they had in the kitchen.
Vash talked now of the happy times of his childhood with his brother Knives and Rem, his surrogate mother, feeling it only fair since Edy shared so much during their prolonged dinner together. As with Edy, the version he told was heavily edited and Edy knew that, but she didn't press. They arrived at the bathroom; as soon as they were inside the spacious room Edy sat down on a small bench beside the tub, leaning over to turn on the water faucet. As the water began to fill the tub she twisted another couple of knobs set in the side of the huge basin, just above floor level. Vash assumed these controlled whatever heated the water, but didn't really care enough to ask. They continued to talk and he began telling her about how he loved to sit for hours with Rem and his twin brother when they were both younger.
"Ah, siblings," Edy sighed, "they try your patience but you can't help but love them. I'm lucky to still have Isaiah around; do you see your brother often?"
Vash grew silent in his seat on the edge of the tub. He played with the water behind him as he answered in a quiet voice, not wishing to lie to this kind woman but obviously unable to tell her the truth. There was just something about her that tugged at all his thoughts and secrets, making it hard to keep them hidden; he actually wanted to tell her everything, get it off his chest, and be done with it. It felt so good to finally talk to someone besides Knives or Wolfwood, like she was a neutral third party so removed from the dilemma that maybe she could figure everything out. Against his better judgment, he began to spill a large majority of the beans.
"He had actually been staying with me for the past seven months or so; he had gotten really sick and needed someone to take care of him and I was the only one who could do it. Knives is. a special case. He doesn't exactly get along well with others and no one could really deal with him the way a brother could. He disappeared a few nights ago with hardly a trace and most certainly no clues; I don't remember exactly when considering how much of it has been a blur of sand storms, wandering, pain and unconsciousness. I'm really worried about him so I've been trying to find out where Knives went. Wolfwood's an old friend of mine, and a, well, an old business partner of Knives, so when he happened to find me at the bottom of a pile of Ravagers, he decided to help me find Knives. Long story short, we found you and here we are. And I still haven't a clue where Knives could be."
The only sound that came from the bathroom for a while was the running water. At last that stopped when Edy pushed herself up off the bench and reached past Vash to turn the knob.
"What can I do to help?" she asked at last, subdued but in earnest. She knew he wasn't soliciting her help, but she felt obligated to do something even if there existed no better reason than she understood the strength of sibling bonds. Her heart was breaking for Vash, thinking he must be worried sick over his missing brother.
"You've done more than enough already to help," Vash replied, kind but firm. "Just getting Wolfwood and I back on our feet has been plenty."
"Well," she reasoned, not letting the idea go now that it had entered her head, "if he's sick he'll need kelp when you find him. Let me come with you."
"No. Not only is it too dangerous, Isaiah, Roscoe, hell, all of February needs you here."
"Then at least come back and see me," she almost shouted, getting irritated my his perpetually calm manner. Too dangerous? She could take care of herself. One thing her father had been good for was teaching her how to fight; she was pretty handy with fist and firearm alike. Obviously he wasn't going to give in, though; too damn chivalrous, this one was. "I'll want to know how you're up to. Bring your Knives here for medical help if it's possible. You know how good I am; I'm better than any doctor in February, and probably on this entire planet too."
Vash remained silent, neither answering or denying. He'd like to come back and spend some more time talking with this interesting woman, sitting in her pleasant kitchen, eating her wonderful food. Her life seemed relatively quiet but complete and she had plenty of people she cared for with both her hands and her heart. Vash cursed yet again his inexplicable ability to make friends with all the wrong people; wrong in the sense that they were too good to be put in danger through associating with him.
Edy stood up suddenly and muttered something about the bath being almost ready and she needed to go to bed. She shut the bathroom door behind her, closing in Vash's plaintive stare and then stumbled, falling to her knees. Embarrassed, frustrated, tired, and in pain, she began to cry, unable to stop herself despite the fact that she knew Vash could probably hear her. She almost literally crawled into her bedroom and as quickly as possible changed into her bedclothes. Tears still streaming down her cheeks, she pulled herself into bed and lay awake for several more hours from the pain before she passed out, just before the suns peeked in through her window.
Vash heard her crying and he wanted to run out and comfort her, but he sensed it wasn't his place to intervene; she'd probably get mad at him, madder than she already seemed. It tugged at him in such a painful way and again he caught himself wondering why this woman wanted to push herself so terribly far for his sake. She confused him too. He bathed for a long time, contemplating her as well as all the other problems that plague him.
* * * * *
Myshkin: Oh yeah, I finally finished my web page, so go check it out! (www.angelfire.com/indie/pendantliving0/index.html) It has the fic, some of my art (more to come, I promise!), as well as some other stuff. It's still trying out it's web legs so I hope everything works out ok. Anyways, enjoy!