Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!
Tying Up Loose Ends
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Dark Night
"Honey, I'm home," Vash called out in his most robust, most manly voice. Milly twittered and Meryl just scowled as the three entered the house, fighting against the winds to close the door. The storm had been raging for over an hour, making the commute difficult and time consuming. Darkness had fallen as the suns dipped ever closer to the horizon, the rest of the day's light obscured by the whirling clouds of dust, dirt, and debris.
Worry piqued Vash's senses; no lamps were lit within sight. Edy always kept a light burning for him when she knew he was going to be home later. All joking quickly shoved aside, Vash called out once more.
"Edy? Isaiah? Knives? Anyone here?"
No answer. Well, maybe they were just out back, in the middle of the storm, for some fresh air, you know? The passing hall and kitchen didn't even register in Vash's mind as he hurried to the back door. Peering through the wire mesh revealed nothing, and the fact that the solid, wooden door stood wide open helped to calm him in no way.
Next place to check was upstairs. Passing by the girls who remained unsure of what to do, standing there in the dark foyer, Vash took the stairs two at a time into the darkness.
"Meryl," Milly murmured, moving from her place at her friend's side, "what's that?"
"Milly..."
Something lay in the middle of the hall by the opened closet door, passed over by Vash's long strides and preoccupied mind. Squinting against the darkness, Milly knelt, her hands running over a smooth wooden box and a cloth that lay over it as if it had been thoughtlessly tossed aside. The cloth smelled strongly of gunpowder. Pushing herself back up, Milly's hand pressed down on something cold, cylendrical, and metal laying upon the floor. Plucking it up she felt the weight of a bullet in her hand.
Vash returned wrapped in a loud string of nearly violent curses, his fear having rocketed past panic. Despite their questions, Vash couldn't form the words to tell them that Knives' door had been kicked in and he was no where to be found, along with the others.
Running out into the yard, tailed closely by the girls, Vash stumbled upon something that made him fall to his knees and cry out in earnest.
They were gone, they were gone and there was nothing he could do about it. Knives wouldn't let himself be found this time; this dissapearance, kidnapping Edy and Isaiah, it was proof that Knives had at last broken ties with his brother completely.
Taking what Vash held most dear, his happy life, and irreversably breaking it apart, in doing this Knives struck a blow knowing no physical wound would be left to heal and age into an old scar, no peace eventually made with the inflictor. Vash would never help Knive, only hinder him, and from then on out he wasn't going to give his brother that chance. Somehow Vash knew this, he knew this to be so terribley, horribley true.
As Vash cried and shouted, cursing the heavens for his abismal failure to protect the ones he loved, Milly and Meryl could only stare in horror at the huge nail driven into the dusty soil, placed there with such a force that not even the raging winds could budge it.
* * * * *
He had tried to make it as comfortable as possible for her, but in the end Knives failed. The Ark was never designed for pleasure cruises, and putting a few extra blankets on a cot didn't help. Edy lay there, exhausted, staring at the dingy, metal-gray walls, the toilet, the sink, the mirror, alternating her attention from boring object to boring object. It wasn't much more than a prison cell, and appropriately so. Knives had locked her in, for her protection he said.
Protection, ha! He was the one that needed protecting as soon as she rested up. He not only basically kidnapped her and Isaiah, but he separated them as well. Lord only knows where Isaiah had been stowed away, tucked somewhere within the massive ship.
That pompous bastard had the audacity to use her little brother as collateral not once, not twice, but three times! First to bargin with her in the cave, second to get her on the ship and then third to keep her there peacfully. Knives didn't so much as come out and say it, but she knew that was why Isaiah had been taken from her. Insurance in case she did try something.
She pounded her fist into the cot in fury, angry that things had ended up this way. Why did she ever show that high-and-mighty asswipe any mercy? Always he repaid her kindness with pain, and now the destruction of humanity on Gunsmoke seemed imminent, all because she didn't have the balls to shoot him dead in that cave. This all could have been avoided with one well-placed bullet to the head.
Still... Edy was glad she didn't kill him, in a way, even if it only meant her conscience stood a bit cleaner and not that she spared a life. Killing was messy business, never good. Never. And that was why she needed to figure out how to get the hell out of there, so no more deaths would occur.
Not tonight, though. Sleep had begun to steal over Edy and she dropped like a stone into a fitful sleep, the low hum of the ship's engines lulling her into unconciousness.
* * * * *
This is so humiliating, Isaiah thought as he stared at the "leash" tied from his wrist to Elendira's. The expression on the man's face told him that the feeling was quite mutual. A pair of metal cuffs linked by a sturdy chain bound the two together; Knives wanted Isaiah under constant surveallance and within close reach, in case Edy tried something and they needed to use the boy to subdue her.
The two never spoke a word.
Elendira thought it was bloody ridiculous and that the Master had suffered a head injury as well, but agreed to it, considering the fact that it was still Master Knives giving the order, even if he was crippled. Still, the look in the plant's eyes, the tone in his voice, Master Knives wasn't right somehow and this time it had nothing to do with the heady intoxication he recieved from gorging on plants.
Making his rounds, Elendira climbed down into the bowls of the ship. Isaiah followed along, helpless to do otherwise but curious as well. He had never been around a mad villian's secret lair before but so far the Ark was living up to all the fantastical stories he had read. About fifteen minutes of descending, weaving, turning, and twisting they at last arrived at Elendira's planned destination.
Sliding open with a hiss, the opening door revealed a small room with a bank of three screens and some audio devices; Isaiah assumed they were audio from the microphone rigged up to the dials and knobs, one of which was labeled "Volume." His interest in the electronics faded fast when he saw who acted as the focus of the cameras; across the three screens were different views of the same man, the one who had left what seemed like ages ago, without a single word, abandoning them all but especially him.
Anger and resentment boiled up inside of Isaiah when he saw Wolfwood's face, knowing he was the one who betrayed them, that this was why he had left. This ebbed away, though, when he at last saw what he was looking at. There before Isaiah the screens projected the image of a broken man, trussed up in a tiny room, gaunt, half-naked, staring out at nothing with dead eyes.
"Wolfwood," Isaiah sobbed as he rushed the screens, trying to fight back tears as he pounded helplessly on the console, crying the man's name over and over again. Elendira watched impassively as Isaiah tried to talk to the man without even bothering with the damn microphone. Pulling out a thin, long box from his coat, Elendira clicked it open to check it's contents and then snapped it shut again.
"Would you like to say good-bye to him," he asked the boy at last when he saw an opening in the boy's crys. Isaiah, breathing heavy and trying to get himself under control turned to Elendira with wide eyes.
"What do you mean," the boy whispered, confused but not as ignorant as he wished he were. He had a pretty good idea what Elendira meant.
"I've been planning to put Chapel down."
Turning to leave the room, Elendira jerked to a stop, not expecting his captive to fail to follow. Shock, outrage, fury, and mostly fear jolted across the poor boy's features like a thunder storm, each emotion a bolt of lightening striking his mind. Elendira sighed and tugged, trying to draw him along, but Isaiah wouldn't budge. At last he met the eyes of the man before him, struggling with the tears welling across his lower lids, and Isaiah spoke.
"It's just like taking the trash out to you, isn't it," he asked, his voice squeaking and shaking with emotion. "Human... human life... it's nothing to you!"
"Intelligent boy."
"You can't just kill him!"
"You have a logical reason? I've gotten all the information I need from Chapel and it's unlikely anyone could find what resembles a human life left in that shell."
"He's... I... you just can't do that... please..."
All sense and logic had left Isaiah and he was crying freely, unable to articulate what he felt and thought. He hated Wolfwood for leaving, but he knew in his heart the man hadn't left for this. Oh God, what did they do to him...
"Oh what the hell," said Elendira with a shrug, "I can't do anything with you strapped to my arm and Master Knives most certainly won't notice or care if you're tagging along once he starts absorbing them again. You two can share a cell, keep each other company (although I don't know what kind of company he'll be) and keep out of my hair."
It wasn't much like him to give into pitiful puppy-dog eyes and quivering lips, but Elendira really didn't care to deal with a brat at his side at all times. He took Isaiah back the way they came and placed him in a cell not unlike the one his sister resided in; unbeknownst to either, they ended up only a few halls away from each other. Within the half hour Elendira returned with Wolfwood now in dull grey pants and a dull grey shirt, his hands still restrained behind his back.
"I'd keep your hands away from his mouth, he hasn't eaten much since he got here," Elendira instructed.
Shoving the man into the room, Elendira slid the heavy metal door closed and locked it up tight, not even thinking twice about it. He would have to make sure to try and remember to bring them food once, maybe twice a day, but that shouldn't be too awefully hard; the other humans on Gunsmoke were occupied with more important things right then and no one would probably take notice of the airship and the missing plants. If they did he'd handle it and if they didn't Elendira would have time to brush up on his solitaire and keeping-a-crazy-genocidal-plant-in-line skills.
Alone with the other man now, Isaiah sat on the cot, watching Wolfwood who watched him back, mumbling in a nearly constant stream under his breath. Isaiah's lips began to quiver as he finally took it all in. Wolfwood's unfocused eyes darted about the room from time to time to take it all in but always returned to Isaiah's face. He seemed to be trying to work something out in his mind, an expression of deep concentration upon a face stripped of all color. The man was thinner, this change most noticable in the face where his jaw cut harder against the air than it used to, as well as where his arms exited the baggy confines of his short-sleeved garment. Greasy hair clung to his head and more stubble than normal covered that sharper chin.
"You," a dry voice cracked, the one word attempting to raise above the whispered stream like a drowning man surfacing desprately for air, "you..."
And that was all Wolfwood could manage before Isaiah stumbled to the ground, wrapping his arms around the bound man's waist and crying into that terrible, deathly-pale, rough grey fabric. Talking too fast for either to understand, Isaiah poured out his anger, his resentment, his fear, and his pain, trying to shove it all into Wolfwood's heart directly from his mouth as he pressed his face into his chest.
Wolfwood fell silent and listened, knowing somehow that this, THIS was important to hear and remember.
Tying Up Loose Ends
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Dark Night
"Honey, I'm home," Vash called out in his most robust, most manly voice. Milly twittered and Meryl just scowled as the three entered the house, fighting against the winds to close the door. The storm had been raging for over an hour, making the commute difficult and time consuming. Darkness had fallen as the suns dipped ever closer to the horizon, the rest of the day's light obscured by the whirling clouds of dust, dirt, and debris.
Worry piqued Vash's senses; no lamps were lit within sight. Edy always kept a light burning for him when she knew he was going to be home later. All joking quickly shoved aside, Vash called out once more.
"Edy? Isaiah? Knives? Anyone here?"
No answer. Well, maybe they were just out back, in the middle of the storm, for some fresh air, you know? The passing hall and kitchen didn't even register in Vash's mind as he hurried to the back door. Peering through the wire mesh revealed nothing, and the fact that the solid, wooden door stood wide open helped to calm him in no way.
Next place to check was upstairs. Passing by the girls who remained unsure of what to do, standing there in the dark foyer, Vash took the stairs two at a time into the darkness.
"Meryl," Milly murmured, moving from her place at her friend's side, "what's that?"
"Milly..."
Something lay in the middle of the hall by the opened closet door, passed over by Vash's long strides and preoccupied mind. Squinting against the darkness, Milly knelt, her hands running over a smooth wooden box and a cloth that lay over it as if it had been thoughtlessly tossed aside. The cloth smelled strongly of gunpowder. Pushing herself back up, Milly's hand pressed down on something cold, cylendrical, and metal laying upon the floor. Plucking it up she felt the weight of a bullet in her hand.
Vash returned wrapped in a loud string of nearly violent curses, his fear having rocketed past panic. Despite their questions, Vash couldn't form the words to tell them that Knives' door had been kicked in and he was no where to be found, along with the others.
Running out into the yard, tailed closely by the girls, Vash stumbled upon something that made him fall to his knees and cry out in earnest.
They were gone, they were gone and there was nothing he could do about it. Knives wouldn't let himself be found this time; this dissapearance, kidnapping Edy and Isaiah, it was proof that Knives had at last broken ties with his brother completely.
Taking what Vash held most dear, his happy life, and irreversably breaking it apart, in doing this Knives struck a blow knowing no physical wound would be left to heal and age into an old scar, no peace eventually made with the inflictor. Vash would never help Knive, only hinder him, and from then on out he wasn't going to give his brother that chance. Somehow Vash knew this, he knew this to be so terribley, horribley true.
As Vash cried and shouted, cursing the heavens for his abismal failure to protect the ones he loved, Milly and Meryl could only stare in horror at the huge nail driven into the dusty soil, placed there with such a force that not even the raging winds could budge it.
* * * * *
He had tried to make it as comfortable as possible for her, but in the end Knives failed. The Ark was never designed for pleasure cruises, and putting a few extra blankets on a cot didn't help. Edy lay there, exhausted, staring at the dingy, metal-gray walls, the toilet, the sink, the mirror, alternating her attention from boring object to boring object. It wasn't much more than a prison cell, and appropriately so. Knives had locked her in, for her protection he said.
Protection, ha! He was the one that needed protecting as soon as she rested up. He not only basically kidnapped her and Isaiah, but he separated them as well. Lord only knows where Isaiah had been stowed away, tucked somewhere within the massive ship.
That pompous bastard had the audacity to use her little brother as collateral not once, not twice, but three times! First to bargin with her in the cave, second to get her on the ship and then third to keep her there peacfully. Knives didn't so much as come out and say it, but she knew that was why Isaiah had been taken from her. Insurance in case she did try something.
She pounded her fist into the cot in fury, angry that things had ended up this way. Why did she ever show that high-and-mighty asswipe any mercy? Always he repaid her kindness with pain, and now the destruction of humanity on Gunsmoke seemed imminent, all because she didn't have the balls to shoot him dead in that cave. This all could have been avoided with one well-placed bullet to the head.
Still... Edy was glad she didn't kill him, in a way, even if it only meant her conscience stood a bit cleaner and not that she spared a life. Killing was messy business, never good. Never. And that was why she needed to figure out how to get the hell out of there, so no more deaths would occur.
Not tonight, though. Sleep had begun to steal over Edy and she dropped like a stone into a fitful sleep, the low hum of the ship's engines lulling her into unconciousness.
* * * * *
This is so humiliating, Isaiah thought as he stared at the "leash" tied from his wrist to Elendira's. The expression on the man's face told him that the feeling was quite mutual. A pair of metal cuffs linked by a sturdy chain bound the two together; Knives wanted Isaiah under constant surveallance and within close reach, in case Edy tried something and they needed to use the boy to subdue her.
The two never spoke a word.
Elendira thought it was bloody ridiculous and that the Master had suffered a head injury as well, but agreed to it, considering the fact that it was still Master Knives giving the order, even if he was crippled. Still, the look in the plant's eyes, the tone in his voice, Master Knives wasn't right somehow and this time it had nothing to do with the heady intoxication he recieved from gorging on plants.
Making his rounds, Elendira climbed down into the bowls of the ship. Isaiah followed along, helpless to do otherwise but curious as well. He had never been around a mad villian's secret lair before but so far the Ark was living up to all the fantastical stories he had read. About fifteen minutes of descending, weaving, turning, and twisting they at last arrived at Elendira's planned destination.
Sliding open with a hiss, the opening door revealed a small room with a bank of three screens and some audio devices; Isaiah assumed they were audio from the microphone rigged up to the dials and knobs, one of which was labeled "Volume." His interest in the electronics faded fast when he saw who acted as the focus of the cameras; across the three screens were different views of the same man, the one who had left what seemed like ages ago, without a single word, abandoning them all but especially him.
Anger and resentment boiled up inside of Isaiah when he saw Wolfwood's face, knowing he was the one who betrayed them, that this was why he had left. This ebbed away, though, when he at last saw what he was looking at. There before Isaiah the screens projected the image of a broken man, trussed up in a tiny room, gaunt, half-naked, staring out at nothing with dead eyes.
"Wolfwood," Isaiah sobbed as he rushed the screens, trying to fight back tears as he pounded helplessly on the console, crying the man's name over and over again. Elendira watched impassively as Isaiah tried to talk to the man without even bothering with the damn microphone. Pulling out a thin, long box from his coat, Elendira clicked it open to check it's contents and then snapped it shut again.
"Would you like to say good-bye to him," he asked the boy at last when he saw an opening in the boy's crys. Isaiah, breathing heavy and trying to get himself under control turned to Elendira with wide eyes.
"What do you mean," the boy whispered, confused but not as ignorant as he wished he were. He had a pretty good idea what Elendira meant.
"I've been planning to put Chapel down."
Turning to leave the room, Elendira jerked to a stop, not expecting his captive to fail to follow. Shock, outrage, fury, and mostly fear jolted across the poor boy's features like a thunder storm, each emotion a bolt of lightening striking his mind. Elendira sighed and tugged, trying to draw him along, but Isaiah wouldn't budge. At last he met the eyes of the man before him, struggling with the tears welling across his lower lids, and Isaiah spoke.
"It's just like taking the trash out to you, isn't it," he asked, his voice squeaking and shaking with emotion. "Human... human life... it's nothing to you!"
"Intelligent boy."
"You can't just kill him!"
"You have a logical reason? I've gotten all the information I need from Chapel and it's unlikely anyone could find what resembles a human life left in that shell."
"He's... I... you just can't do that... please..."
All sense and logic had left Isaiah and he was crying freely, unable to articulate what he felt and thought. He hated Wolfwood for leaving, but he knew in his heart the man hadn't left for this. Oh God, what did they do to him...
"Oh what the hell," said Elendira with a shrug, "I can't do anything with you strapped to my arm and Master Knives most certainly won't notice or care if you're tagging along once he starts absorbing them again. You two can share a cell, keep each other company (although I don't know what kind of company he'll be) and keep out of my hair."
It wasn't much like him to give into pitiful puppy-dog eyes and quivering lips, but Elendira really didn't care to deal with a brat at his side at all times. He took Isaiah back the way they came and placed him in a cell not unlike the one his sister resided in; unbeknownst to either, they ended up only a few halls away from each other. Within the half hour Elendira returned with Wolfwood now in dull grey pants and a dull grey shirt, his hands still restrained behind his back.
"I'd keep your hands away from his mouth, he hasn't eaten much since he got here," Elendira instructed.
Shoving the man into the room, Elendira slid the heavy metal door closed and locked it up tight, not even thinking twice about it. He would have to make sure to try and remember to bring them food once, maybe twice a day, but that shouldn't be too awefully hard; the other humans on Gunsmoke were occupied with more important things right then and no one would probably take notice of the airship and the missing plants. If they did he'd handle it and if they didn't Elendira would have time to brush up on his solitaire and keeping-a-crazy-genocidal-plant-in-line skills.
Alone with the other man now, Isaiah sat on the cot, watching Wolfwood who watched him back, mumbling in a nearly constant stream under his breath. Isaiah's lips began to quiver as he finally took it all in. Wolfwood's unfocused eyes darted about the room from time to time to take it all in but always returned to Isaiah's face. He seemed to be trying to work something out in his mind, an expression of deep concentration upon a face stripped of all color. The man was thinner, this change most noticable in the face where his jaw cut harder against the air than it used to, as well as where his arms exited the baggy confines of his short-sleeved garment. Greasy hair clung to his head and more stubble than normal covered that sharper chin.
"You," a dry voice cracked, the one word attempting to raise above the whispered stream like a drowning man surfacing desprately for air, "you..."
And that was all Wolfwood could manage before Isaiah stumbled to the ground, wrapping his arms around the bound man's waist and crying into that terrible, deathly-pale, rough grey fabric. Talking too fast for either to understand, Isaiah poured out his anger, his resentment, his fear, and his pain, trying to shove it all into Wolfwood's heart directly from his mouth as he pressed his face into his chest.
Wolfwood fell silent and listened, knowing somehow that this, THIS was important to hear and remember.