Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!
Tying Up Loose Ends
Chapter Ten
Breaking Up, Down, and Away
It was nearly noon before Wolfwood opened his eyes again. Vash was no where in sight, but his sheets were mussed and looked as if he'd at least spent some time in between them last night. With an evil grin he wondered whom else's sheets Vash might have inhabited as well; that Edy woman seemed to have taken quite a shine to Tongari and the feeling looked mutual. No, of course not, the guy wasn't like that. It would be funny as hell to imply such nocturnal entertainments to his face, though.
Extracting himself from the warm, comfy bed, Wolfwood stood and stretched, taking inventory. The aches, pains, and pretty much everything else that plagued him from the past 48 to 72 hours were gone; like Vash, the hours were mush in his brain after their ordeal. His voice hadn't reappeared, though.
Wolfwood fumed the more he thought about the current situation; maybe nothing hurt anymore but he couldn't speak yet, Vash was probably goofing off instead of figuring out where Knives went, and god dammit, where the hell were his cigarettes!!
Realization that he had been going through nicotine withdrawal hit him full force at that very inopportune moment; in retrospect, his crankiness the night before made sense, as well as the headache that began to blossom all across his skull. Logically, he should have settled down, given Edy some credit for her miraculous works (well, a lot of credit) and leisurely strolled out of the room to go get some breakfast since no one could think properly on an empty stomach. No one who was addicted to cigarettes could think properly without nicotine rushing through their system either, so it all nullified each other and he began to storm out of the room. Their bags, which Edy had Isaiah bring in from the motorcycle that morning, stopped his fuming short. The Cross Punisher sat in the corner by the wardrobe.
Like a thirsty man to water he fell onto his knees and rummaged through his own sack, at last emerging triumphant with a rumpled pack and a lighter. Forgetting his hunger he rushed through out through the living room and into the kitchen only to stumble upon an odd scene. Isaiah, the boy who had been so cold to them the night before sat at the kitchen table, deep in conversation with Vash. The blond man had his big gun out on the table, pointing out and explaining the different parts and how they worked. It never ceased to amaze Wolfwood how quickly Vash could win the trust of anyone, especially children. He reminded the priest of a certain tall insurance girl they both knew; Wolfwood stood there, wondering for a moment what Milly was up to before he was spotted by his friend.
"Hey Wolfwood! You're finally up!"
The priest replied with a wave and a nod. He wanted to go outside and smoke, impatience making him antsy. Isaiah still looked at him coldly, like he had too many limbs or eyeballs. Then he chucked without warning a small notebook and pen to the taciturn man.
"Edy told me to give that to you if your voice hadn't come back. Guess it'll help you to communicate or something," the boy said with an indifferent air. Wolfwood uncapped the pen and scribbled a quick message.
Where's Edy?
Isaiah and Vash peered at the notebook. Isaiah was the first to reply.
"She's out on a job. She probably won't be back till late tonight or even tomorrow. Edy said I'm supposed to feed you, be hospitable, and offer the room again tonight if you both have absolutely no where else you could possibly stay."
Both gentlemen suspected the healer's words to be kinder and in a much more pleasant tone than the ones Isaiah used to interpret his sister's message.
"I told him we'd be delighted to stay another evening; we couldn't bear to leave without saying good-bye to Edy," Vash added with a big smile. Wolfwood jotted down a note for Vash's eyes only. The gunman blushed brilliantly when he read it and huffed, whining his response.
"You've got the mind of a fifteen year old, you jerk. We've got to pay her still and she's been very kind to us, that's all!"
Wolfwood laughed; it sounded like a dog panting, only air coming out without the sound.
Scribble, scribble, show it just to Vash again. Knives?
Vash frowned and shrugged. They needed to figure out what they were going to do, but not with Isaiah around, of course. Vash turned back to Isaiah and the gun tutorial. Frustrated, Wolfwood stalked quickly out to the front porch, lighting up before the door had a chance to snap shut. They didn't have time for this shit.
The ships from Earth were coming soon, although no one knew the actual day, and if they didn't have Knives under control or under the ground by then, everyone would be in serious trouble. Wolfwood wanted to kill the bastard and be done with it, but he knew Vash would never allow that to happen. Obviously keeping him under house arrest didn't work so well though. Their options were limited and every minute they spent hanging around here was another minute Knives had to get farther and farther out of their grasp.
He dragged deeply on his cigarette but it wasn't enough to settle his nerves. Pulling out another, he lit it on the end of another, smoke both at the same time. For a minute or two he puffed away, gazing out into the distance and the town, alternating a depressing view of a dilapidated civilization with a depressing view of barren wasteland. Dammit, two wasn't enough. Wolfwood proceeded to light a third as the smoke began to encircle his head and the surrounding three feet radius; no wind kept the porch rather smoggy, at least around the chain-smoking fiend.
Wolfwood had plans to light up a fourth when the door opened and shut behind him and a slightly winded but more than slightly excited Vash dragging a surprised and ornery-looking Isaiah came out to join him on the porch.
"Tell him what you just told me," Vash urged the boy. Isaiah glared back and forth between the two, extracting his arm from Vash's grip and crossing it with the other over his chest. Vash pleaded some more, becoming more and more pitiful as the moments passed. At last Isaiah gave in to Vash's overwhelming pathetic power.
"I was just saying that the job Edy's at is to check on some guy I found in a cave about four hours from here. I stumbled across him yesterday morning when I went out exploring. He was real sick an' hallucinating an' stuff so I knew he'd need Edy's help. Vash, I don't get what the big deal is."
When Isaiah paused to argue with Vash, the so-excited-I'm-going-to-piss-on-myself-soon gunman jumped on him again. Wolfwood looked like he was patiently awaiting for all this to reveal its importance to him as he lit another cigarette off the end of one, successfully keeping three cigarettes going even after tossing a butt away.
"Go on, go on. Tell him who the guy thought you were," Vash begged. Isaiah gave him another withering look then answered Vash's plea.
"He thought I was his brother Vash for a while there, when the fever made him see things. But come on, how many Vashes could there be out there? How do we even know this guy's got a brother named Vash? Considering there's at least one other that everyone knows of besides you, you know, that Stampede guy, there could be others. I mean, jeez, how can someone lose their brother when the guy's in that kind of condition."
Vash blushed and looked absolutely miserable, since he was one to lose his brother, but Isaiah didn't seem to take any notice. Wolfwood couldn't get his notepad out fast enough but the look on his face explained his thoughts. He agreed with Vash's suspicions. At last the priest got his notebook out and jotted down a question for Vash.
Can we be sure it's Knives?
"Well, no, but can we risk letting him go if he's not?…. Oh god…. If it's him, what about Edy? Isaiah, what'd he look like?"
"Uh… Real dirty, probably tall if he stood up, blond hair I think, maybe a bit of black in the front, I dunno. He was a mess, filthy an' sick an' not good. It was also pretty dim in the cave, so I couldn't be sure."
Vash and Wolfwood exchanged another one of those looks. Isaiah had no idea what these guys were talking about, but he got the gist of it: Edy was in serious trouble. He started to eye the beaten-up motorcycle that sat in front of the house, seeing it as his only possible mode of transportation.
He had seen a set of keys in the closet where Edy put the men's personal effects. Hopefully she hadn't put those things in the guys' room yet. The men were arguing, at least Vash was arguing and Wolfwood was writing frantically in reply, both ignoring the boy. Isaiah slipped inside unnoticed and scrambled into the front room where he had first seen these two idiots. In a cabinet under the counter top he found what Edy knew she couldn't pitch, exactly where he expected to find them. Among the scant number of items was a set of keys.
Bingo, Isaiah thought, they have to go to the motorcycle.
Isaiah heard the jingle signaling the opening of the front door, followed by Vash's loud whining and Wolfwood's frenetic scratching. Isaiah hid just inside the door as they passed, heading to their room from the sounds of it. Taking the opportunity he launched himself though the curtain and out the front door, leaping onto the motorcycle and praying it worked similar enough to his motorbike. After a moment of examining it and a few attempts to get the huge bike to start, Isaiah was off and holding onto the behemoth for dear life.
The other two heard the noise and dropped what they were doing, running full tilt to the front porch only to see the receding backside of Angelina II with an extremely determined Isaiah riding on top.
"F..Fu..Fuck a baby thomas, that bastard son of a whore's pile of crap stole my goddamn…." This hoarse stream of cursing went on for a while as Vash stared in wonder and shock at the disappearing motorcycle and boy. Well, at least Wolfwood's voice was back.
* * * * *
Knives stumbled to his feet, hunched over because of the lack of space, and started to approach the cringing, whimpering, gasping girl. She was making obnoxious noise, like a cornered animal, yelps and cries, nothing intelligent. It had taken him a moment before he realized he no longer felt any pain in his leg; Knives then promptly fell to the ground, exhausted. The woman scrambled back further, her distressed noises increasing in volume.
In this state after expending herself, Edy wasn't much more than a feral animal. She couldn't speak and could barely reason above what any wild dog could. Right now all she could sense was danger and so she reacted appropriately. Despite the fuss and the cringing, she was readying her body in case she would have to fight, since flight obviously wasn't an option. Edy could only make small, sudden movements if she didn't focus her energy; it had been a immense task to heal this man, especially since she hadn't fully recuperated from the day before.
Despite being unable to walk and a feeling of fatigue in every cell and nerve in his body, Knives continued to move closer to Edy. He couldn't believe, nay, comprehend, the fact that some fever-induced vision of a woman he loathed could possibly know the truth about this young woman before him. His mind still reeled from the revelation. His hatred for the healer had completely dissipated, replaced by curiosity and turning cogs as ideas and plans already began to form in his mind.
Knives knelt before her now, his face about two feet away from hers, and stared, taking her all in. Most of her hair had fallen down around her shoulders, brushing the ground and covering much of her hunched and bloody self. She desperately held her shirt to her chest, trying to keep it across herself since the front had been ripped free from the back; her left sleeve tried miserably to take up the slack, but it didn't succeed. Somewhere in her scrambling she had lost her sandals and her bare feet dug into the sandy dust, trying to propel her body further away. Knives watched her as she squelched up against the wall of the cave, crying out and then gritting her teeth. Her eyes, wild with pain and confusion, stared out from behind black and blonde strands of hair. So much black….
Knives gasped, the realization standing fully on his chest, forcing the air from his lungs. She was more than half-gone, her life used up so much. This thought came in a flash and he moved to draw her to his chest in a moment of almost-sympathy; Knives didn't exactly regret his own actions causing her pain and fear, but he did feel sorry for her in some small way. It seemed the appropriate thing to do in the situation.
His movements were halted with the heel of her hand thrust violently upward from under his nose, snapping his head back and sending bright red blood splattering everywhere. She had quite efficiently broken his nose.
Knives rocked back on his heels and then collapsed onto his butt, eyes squinched shut and his hands trying to keep any more fluids from escaping. Pain erupted across his face, its epicenter the now mangled nose. Still, he remained silent and patient, waiting for the hurting, bleeding, and tears to subside.
Circumstances had changed so quickly in his mind, and the woman seemed disoriented, seeing Knives as a threat. This made sense considering the fact that he had tried to kill her moments before, while she only wanted to heal his wound. As the ability to think straight returned, Knives figured he should try to talk her down to a calmer state. Considering the extent of Knives' social skills and all the chances he had to develop then, this proved to be quite interesting.
"I'm not going to try to kill you… Anymore," he began slowly, his voice sounding funny because of the ruptured nose. "I did try to kill you, but that's when I thought you were a human."
Knives opened his eyes at last and tried to smile through the blood that still came from his nose, drenching his dull gray shirt in bright red. He cringed when he saw his own blood has splattered across her face and self as well and tried to divert his sight into her eyes. They widened but seemed to be more focused, their gaze more intelligent; things probably were beginning to come together in her mind she obviously had begun to regain herself, but that didn't mean she was going to relax any time soon And Knives, of course, had not the ability to affectively make her do so. Still, he had to try.
A female plant outside of the bulb, like him and his brother…. Maybe if she could be made to understand; if she didn't, he'd have to take what measly amount of power she had left into himself anyways. He hoped not, though. She was very pretty and he wouldn't be opposed to propagating the species with her.
"You're far to special to die. I didn't know you were a plant and I acted in haste." He stared at her hair again, sighing. "Haste seems to be our best option now, though. How can you use your powers so blindly when your death stares to in the face?"
"I…. I don't know what you're talking about," Edy sputtered at last, trying to figure out what was going on without revealing too much to this strange and dangerous man. "What are you calling a plant? They're only bulbs… bulbs." She didn't know how he did it, but the pain in her back, the sharp, wet feeling of sliced flesh, he was the only one who could have done that. This guy really was delusional; it hadn't just been a fever. He couldn't be a plant, a monster like that. Isaiah wasn't a monster, he was a good boy; Edy knew this terrible man couldn't be like Isaiah. This guy was talking about killing her, sparing her life, the fact that she was dieing. How did he know she was dieing?
Knives watched the confusion and panic cover her face and it dawned on him. He drew up his shirt and found a relatively clean patch to wipe the remainder of the slowed stream of blood away before voicing his revelation, the salty liquid still heavy on his lips.
"You don't know what you are, do you? You're superior, a plant outside the bulb, free to move and act and use your power as you see fit, not how humans dictate its use for their own selfish needs."
"No, it's not like that; I'm not like that," she blurted out, her voice weakening and strength beginning to leave her.
Knives continued, ignoring her, knowing the denial had to be only natural.
"Your hair, it tells you how much life you've used, how much energy. If you don't use your power, you can live forever. Didn't you grow up too fast? Haven't you looked the same for a long time now? You have to have noticed the black in your hair growing more and more. Your life is beyond half over when you should be able to live till the ends of all days."
Edy couldn't breath. She didn't want to believe what this man was saying, but she was dieing, and she knew this for a fact. She slumped a little further down, the weight of everything falling upon her at once. It all fought for her attention now. Edy knew her father was only a human, she knew it. But she did grow very fast and mother never let her leave the house the first six years of her life, until she appeared to be an adolescent; Edy remembered that, remembered so much. She was never seen by another human being for years even though patients came and went from her own house. Her mind seemed to grow at the same rate as her body. Edy honestly looked like a twenty year old on her eighth birthday, same as she did at the present, and her mother always told her to never tell anyone how old she was, just to act how old she felt inside. It all made so much sense then, when it was just father, mother, and her in that house. It made perfect sense when that was the way she was raised. But how could it be? How could what that stranger say be true?
Like damned water unleashed, memories of her mother's death came flooding back into her mind and Edy cried out, collapsing from fatigue, stress, pain, loss of blood, and weighty revelations. Her mother….
Edy lay there on her side with her knees tucked up close to her chest and her bloody back turned to the strange man, sobbing wildly. She didn't know what was going on any more, if she could believe this man, if she could believe the lies she told herself all these years. She wanted to pass out so badly, but that relief never came. Oh god, how it hurt so much!
For a while Knives simply sat there, resting, regaining his own strength, and watching her cry, and cry, and cry.