Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!

Myshkin: To those who are still with me, much love. I can't apologize enough for the serious lag time between updates.

Tying Up Loose Ends

Chapter Thirty-Three

Anger and Madness

The little missus was pissed.

Watching her, following closely in the shadows, Elendira made note of the fact that not only was the female plant extremely, extremely irritated about something but that she'd had a little "boost" from Knives and Company. The girl crackled as she strode past, unaware of impassive eyes trailing her moves; the only thing Edy could sense right then were the niggling new voices telling her where little brother was currently being held.

"Damn," murmured the transvestite, slipping away to find Master Knives and to get things under control once more.

No need for another rogue plant wreaking havoc on the ship; one was more than enough.

* * * * *

Things had been silent in that heavy, uncomfortable way since they left the town. Bumping along the barren landscape in the requisitioned jeep and siphoned gas found at their last stop, no one knew what to say to each other without starting a whole other row. Meryl fumed, Milly fumed, Vash thought, and Roscoe enjoyed the wind in his jowls. It had nearly been twenty-four hours since anyone spoke and the moons had long since risen overhead.

Deep within his mind Vash considered Meryl's words. She was right, really. He hated himself for it and knew not how he could reconcile what seemed to be their mortally wounded friendship. All he had done was take and take from everyone, hardly giving in return. Well, that wasn't exactly true, he had given plenty of himself in return but it wasn't what they needed or wanted. Quite frankly, the true bits of himself and his past that he had let out from the dark places inside him scared them. Hell, they even scared him sometimes. Most of the time.

Meryl didn't exactly stand alone as the perfect martyr though, all bathed in silver, sorrowful light with angels of mercy weeping about her feet. She jumped to conclusions, had a nasty temper, and ran when the going got tough. It never ceased to amaze Vash that she even wanted to see him again after the confrontation between Zazie the Beast, Hoppard the Gauntlet, Midvalley the Hornfreak, Legato, and Elendira the Crimsonnail; he had lost control of his powers and himself and nearly crushed Meryl beneath the weight of his berserk angel arm. Granted she disappeared for a long while with neither word, nor hide, nor hair to be found of her, but Meryl did eventually return and had made her peace with what he was and what he was capable of doing. So perhaps she was just human. Things like that take a while to process, to deal with; trauma takes a while to assimilate into the heart and the wounds of the soul to heal. Vash knew that lesson all too well.

Still, Vash had no clue how to be the man that Meryl wanted him to be and that frustrated him. It also frustrated him that he was so ready to comply to one person's wishes and change himself to suit them, just as long as they were happy. He only wanted Meryl to be happy; she deserved it so much. If Edy would have asked to change himself for her, to make her content, he would in a heart beat. Edy never asked this of him, though.

Did that make Edy better or just more tolerant? Vash had been selfish and Meryl had been jealous but he could see now how all along, before Edy even came into their lives, he had been so centered on himself and what he wanted. Vash wanted to follow his own path and find his own redemption and accidentally found some friends along the way. True friends too, ones that got under his skin and itched a little. Itched a lot. And wouldn't let go, no matter how long he held the match's searing head to them.

And now one of these friends had at last rejected him, heart-broken and at her wits end.

How could he say she was in the right without completely giving in? He refused to give in so completely, for once being stubborn and knowing that as wrong as he was, so was she. Sighing, Vash glanced over at the tiny woman behind the wheel, awash in the moonlight. How so much smaller she looked tonight.

It was all his fault and yet he had nothing to say for himself.

* * * * *

At last it had happened. He had given up. Curling himself into a tiny ball upon the cot, shielding his face from the mournful, puppy-dog eyes of that poor, pathetic, little boy-man, he retreated inside and vowed never to return. The world hurt to much, the things he wouldn't allow his mind's eye to see and know pounding at the walls of his sanctuary. God, he was so tired; all he wanted to do was sleep until the end of time, his time. He hoped it would be soon.

Darkness surrounded him as he reveled in the barren landscape that now surrounded him. Nothing to see, nothing to feel, nothing to fear. No monsters here, just a world he could fashion as his own and stay forever, safe and happy.

Here in this world, his world, stood a house, standing two stories tall with brightly lit windows and a huge porch that enveloped it within its arms. Music and laughter spilled through the open door, trailing the brilliant lamplight across the worn boards and down the steps to his feet. Smiling, he made his way home.

* * * * *

Turn left here, dear, one voice instructed Edy, its tones kind and motherly. The third door on the left is Isaiah's.

How do you where he is, Edy asked all the voices in general, perplexed.

He's one of ours, another answered in an even voice. All plants are connected, even those that are free of the bulb; sentient plants are unable to feel those ties unless under extreme duress or concentration but that does not mean they are floating about this life unattached. We all try to keep an eye on them, know what they are up to.

Can you… read our minds?

With the others, the full plants, in essence we can. With you little one, it's different, the first voice answered. We could never truly know you like we know the others. The connection is weak, having been passed down from your mother instead of being forged directly with you, so mostly we can sense your emotions when they flare and from time to time dream along with you.

"Hn. That doesn't make me fell any better, somehow," Edy murmured out loud to the locked door before her. Another thought came to mind. "What about Knives, though? He didn't seem to know any more about us than I expected he would but here you are helping me out."

Knives is a prick, one answered, clipped and matter-of-fact. A few voices twittered reservedly, but the first voice (who seemed to be alpha among the others, if there was such a thing) chided them for their rudeness.

Most of us disapprove of what he plans to do and what he has done in the past, it explained. Few help him beyond what he directly asks of us; in some ways sentient plants are weaker than their bulb counter-parts but in other ways they are impossible to refuse.

"Umm…"

Don't worry, little one, it's a bit confusing for us too. There are things in our world that even we can't explain fully or have to ability to convey to others.

Enough chatter, one cut in, let's get Isaiah and get the hell out of here.

Repeating the sequence of numbers the plants told her (thanks to Knives' mental bank of information, easily tapped by one of the less morally upright individuals), the lock released and the door slid open to reveal a spartan cell much like her own, but with far less bedding. There on the cot lay a comatose man garbed in dull gray, curled in upon himself; at first glance Edy thought he was dead, his breathing so slow and deep. This man failed to keep her attention as the voice clamored their greetings to Isaiah who, after a moment of shock, leapt to his feet and launched himself at his sister.

"Oh Isaiah, sweetie, honey, are you alright," Edy exclaimed, too many words trying to fight their way out at the same time. Clutching him tightly to her, Isaiah let go a flood of tears that he didn't know he had in him still; all the fear, the sorrow, the confusion, everything came pouring out down his cheeks, soaking into his sister's shirt. He didn't know what to make of the change that had come over his sister or her feathered cheek but it failed to matter at the moment. Edy was here. Edy would fix things.

For what seemed like hours, but in reality only lasted minutes, they sat there clinging desperately to each other. To Edy, Isaiah had never looked as young has he did then. So much had happened, things that should never happen to anyone, and this caused resentment to well up within her, drowning out the voices and the urgent message they seemed to need to convey. It wasn't fair that her brother had to suffer like this; like any guardian, all Edy wanted to give him was as happy and normal a life as she possibly could but someone decided to throw a wrench betwixt those cogs. She cursed the heavens and for the terrible unfairness of it all but settled upon exacting vengeance from the most tangible scapegoat: Knives.

In good time, little one, in good time, a voice interrupted, finally breaking through the rambling barrier of anger. First see to your friend before he's gone for good.

Friend? What are you talking about?

The one that Isaiah mourns for, in his heart. Wolfwood, is it?

Edy's head snapped up and around so quick that she almost tore something. The man on the cot…

"Isaiah, what happened to Nicholas," she asked her voice quaking. "What's wrong with Nicholas?"

Settle down honey. Hope's not lost yet, not while we're here to guide you.

Please help me, she pled, help me help him…

Sure thing, just breathe first before you pass out.

* * * * *

Dinner had been delicious; wiping his mouth on his napkin and folding it upon the tabletop, he rose to retrieve a glass of wine from the kitchen. People milled about, chatting, laughing, having a great time. A bright tune sounded from the other room, all strings, reeds, and spirit, and men grabbed their ladies about the waist, dragging them to the band and the makeshift dance floor in the library. Laughing at their joy, the gaiety infectious, he stood amiably amid the swishing skirts and gesturing hands, listening to all and hearing nothing but emotions, looking at all but seeing nothing more than colors.

It concerned him not that he could only discern features of the jovial faces out of the corners of his eyes, like catching a glimpse of the elusive shadows that dance away as soon as the wind tickles the branches of a tree. He also didn't care that no true words were formed by the people, just intense and shifting rumblings of a crowd that ebbed and flowed. Nothing mattered really because for all he cared or knew right now this was how it had always been and this was how he wanted it to stay.

Dark, heady wine caught in his throat for moment as he choked, surprised to see across the room a face looking square at him. It failed to shift away or blur from his sight. Revealed to him was a woman with deep black hair, dark except for about her round face where it hung drenched in a dazzling gold, framing brilliant blue eyes and an unnerving stare.

Suddenly, as if it took her a moment to realize where she was, the woman blinked and then broke into a wide grin. Hastily she pushed through the mass of people and threw her arms around him. As soon as she touched him, a barrage of voices pummeled his ears, filling them with complete phrases; the intensity of the words made it impossible for him to discern whether he heard them inside or outside his head.

Be careful dear, one warned softly, with a voice like warm milk. You've made it inside but the hardest task is to come.

Nicholas, exclaimed the woman (he felt it was her voice because her lips moved and for some reason he knew it fit her face), oh God, am I glad to see you!

Too close! Too close, another chirped heatedly. Your minds are too close and he can hear everything we tell you!

Edwina was never this careless with such delicate things; it's like her girl's all thumbs!

I've come to heal you, make you better again, the woman babbled, talking again. Isaiah was so upset, he told me everything he knew and what he could guess. Shit, Nicholas, how could anyone torture another like this? I'm going to kill Elendira and Knives just as soon as we have our Nicholas back safe and sound. I…

Aren't you listening Edy?! Let go of the man before he retreats even further and takes you with him!

What are you talking about, asked the woman of the other voices, apparently called Edy since she answered to the name. Retreat?

Just let go and we'll explain! Jesus Christ, look how you're scaring the poor man!

Shaking, wide-eyed, and unsure what to do, he had remained stiff in her arms during the entire ordeal. Pulling away, Edy looked down, either ashamed, thinking, or listening to something he could no longer hear (although he was pretty sure he had heard all those voices moments before). What the hell was going on here?

Glancing up and into his eyes, the woman simpered apologetically and murmured a "sorry Nicholas" that only he could hear above the noisy crowd. He didn't know who Nicholas was and he didn't want to accept this woman's apology. For some reason he felt like she trespassed and didn't belong here; he wanted her out, and fast.

"Get out," he murmured, barely choking out the words.

With that she flew across the room, crashing first into the far wall and then to the floor, raining books upon her huddled form. None of the other people took any notice of what just occurred; in fact, not a single body had been taken down with her in her flight. It was as if Edy had passed right through them like a hand through smoke. Groaning, the woman pulled herself up to an upright position, confusion and discontent flashing in those striking eyes.

I told you that she was being to careless, but did anyone listen to me?

Yes, Alpha Voice sighed, we all heard exactly what you said.

Right, but she didn't. Look at this mess she's making of it all! Kids these days…

Oh hush.