Pre-Author's Note: This is my first ever fanfiction. I LOVED this show. I also really would like feed back, so phleeze read and review, cause I know u love me.
Authors Note for part 1: I really dreamed this up one night. I changed it a little so it could be coherent. I assumed the setting was after the first 26 Trigun episodes. Another part of me wants to say it is in Japan, but let's assume that the cities got a little more industrialized. I would also like to point out that Mar in Spanish means 'Sea'. Okay? Good. Read on.
Pieces of Love, Part 1:Vash and Knives sat around their apartment in silence. Sitting crossed legs on the floor, Vash watched his coffee get cold. The other leaned against a wall, staring his own reflection in the window. He looked so different now; they both did. Knives had let his hair grow out again, like it was when he and Vash had both been aboard the project SEEDS ship. Vash had retired his red coat and shades, but had kept the spiky hair. It made him think of Rem. They found simple clothes that almost matched what they had worn when they were children. The easy gray of their youth. Times had most certainly changed.
The two of them had lived for years in this apartment in peace. They didn't speak much, but valued the company. Neither of them left much either, seeing as that they were both wanted men. Vash was content with his coffee and meditations, Knives with staring out the window and thinking. But today, things had started to change again. Knives's old self was starting to wake up.
"Vash?" he asked, eyes glued on the pane.
Vash looked up, "Yea?"
"Why are we here?"
His brother paused, "Because... there is a $$60 billion bounty on both of our heads?"
"No, I mean, why are we here? On this planet? We were trained to make it a paradise but instead we stay here and plant trees at night when no one is looking," he said, sounding a little angry.
Vash looked puzzled.
"They are lowly, conniving worms, brother. If we could, I wouldn't let them in paradise. They'd simply ruin it again, don't you think?" he said, turning to face Vash. His eyes were starting to get crazy.
"I don't think so, Knives. If they were given all they needed, then they wouldn't need to be bad. I would, everyone should get the chance to live," he replied defensively. He didn't like where this was going. A strong sense of deja vu echoed in his skull.
"Then who decides when that chance has been expired?"
"No one. People don't have the power to decide who lives and who dies. Don't you remember anything Rem said?"
"Don't talk to me about that old fool," Knives growled, his voice rising. "She didn't understand anything. And that's where your right Vash," he said, standing. "Brother."
He smirked and pulled out his old gun and pointed it at Vash's head, "People don't have that right. But we aren't people, are we?"
Vash gasped and felt a bead of sweat trickle down the side of his face. He yelled, "Knives, what are you doing!?"
"You are either with me, or against me. What shall it be? From the way your talking, I'd say you're an enemy," he cocked the gun. "I should have killed you when I had the chance," he mused. Grinning wildly, he pulled the trigger.
The bullet missed Vash, but just barely. It shattered the glass behind him, making it spill out into the streets below and over Vash's face and arms. Vash put up his arm defensively, covering his eyes. Out of nowhere, Knives body checked Vash through the other unbroken window, sending him plummeting to the ground. People on the streets gasped and backed away from Vash as he struggled to get up. Knives stood in the window, watching him. Out of his pocket, Knives withdrew his only extra bullet and reloaded it into the barrel. Legs shaking, Vash stood, wiping blood from his eyes.
Knives took a shot out the window, getting Vash right in the shoulder. People screamed and started to run away. Vash looked up at his brother and bolted off into the back alleys of the town. Knives took another shoot, which got Vash in the side, but he kept running. Vash disappeared around the corner and out of view.
"Shit," Knives swore, Picking up and smashing Vash's cold coffee on the carpeted floor. The black seeped in slowly, leavening behind a cold brown stain.
Knives jumped through the window and started to pursue Vash, gun cocked and ready. Running as fast as his injured body would allow, Vash staggered through the alley, bleeding from his bullet holes. Knives rounded the corner again and fired. Vash fell to his knees, clutching his stomach where the new hole was. He pulled his hands away, and gasped as the blood dripped off and formed dark pools in the dirt at his knees.
"That's it," Knives whispered. "Die a slow, painful death."
Vash, hearing his brother whisper, felt his eyes grow wide. He climbed to his feet again and fumbled around the corner again. Knives walked slowly after him.
As Vash came into the square, people stared in horror at him. The clothes soaked in blood made him frightening. A thick trail lay behind him. Knives rounded the corner again. He cocked his gun and aimed.
"Give up," he smiled and fired.
Two shots hit Vash right above the heart. He arched his back and fell forward on all fours. He coughed and tart blood spewed from his mouth. Pain like no other pain he had felt before consumed him. His whole body shook. He closed his eyes in agony and slumped into the dirt. Is this what it feels like to die?
Knives stood about 20 paces from his brother. A sick, satisfactory grin stretched across his face. A crowd gathered around them, staying a safe distance away. Vash's body twitched once and then lay still.
Play dead, I will save you, he heard a voice in his head say. What? He thought in return. There was no answer.
Knives cocked his gun and aimed for Vash's head, "I wanted to see you die slowly, but I guess I should put you out of your misery,"
Just then, the crowd started whispering as a woman pushed through and approached the two brothers.
"Esme Nime? Nime? Is it her?"
She was dressed from head to toe in black. She wore a baggy black shirt and pants, long sleeves that blew in the breeze. A cloth facemask and head cap rested on her, covering her face except for her eyes. Around her hips was a belt on which two guns rested in unsnapped holsters. Her feet were bare and her walk was calm. But her eyes, oh those eyes, were fierce and intent.
"That's enough Knives," she said firmly, stepping in-between them. "He's dead,"
"Who do you think you are? Move out of my way, human," he snarled.
"Put it away Knives. You've already taken his life."
"No I haven't, he's still alive, let me kill him," he said, but his gun shook with frustration.
Vash's heart began to flutter. The world around him started to close in ever so slowly.
"He's gone. Why deface him anymore? He is mine now, go." She said. Her eyes lightened. She turned around and scooped him up into her arms; the way heroes carry fainted damsels. He seemed to weigh nothing in her hands.
"NO!" Knives shouted, firing at Vash's face.
In one fluid motion too fast for the eye, the woman heaved Vash over her shoulder freeing her hand and caught the bullet. Knives's jaw dropped. Still smoking, she held it between her thumb and forefinger. With that, she crushed it and let the powder fall to the ground. The crowd gasped and took another step back.
She flicked her fingers, dusting off the last of the powder. She reached up and pulled her facemask down revealing startling features. Her lips played into a soft, pink smile. It was warm and loving, full of sympathy and understanding.
"Go home, Knives, Go home," she said. With that, she turned and walked away. The crowd cleared a path, scrambling to get away from her. Then, as quickly as she came, she disappeared into the city. When the people turned around, Knives was gone too. A pool of blood where Vash had been remained, the last reminder of the show down that had taken place.
Vash was dreaming. He was floating in a sea of blackness and pain. Wind swirled around him. Lifting him up and down mercilessly. Then, there was light. Bright, white, soft light. It was everywhere. It environed him completely. The pain and anguish just... evaporated and he was left feeling serine. A cold compress touched his forehead.
"Uh...?"He groaned, opening his eyes. Florescent lights in the ceiling shined down on him. There was a soft clinking sound beside him. He was lying on a thin mattress with only a pair of pants on. He felt a little woozy. Then he remembered.
The bullet holes! He gasped and groped his chest, feeing for them. But there was nothing. The scars that he'd had before were there, but the wounds were gone. He relaxed again, sighing deeply. How could they be gone with out a trace? They'd all been through and through; it made no sense.
"Here, drink this," she said, gently lifting his head and pressing a bowl to his lips. She smiled at him. "Please? It'll be good for you."
He opened his mouth and felt the soup fill his mouth. It was warm and flavorful. He swallowed and lay back down.
"There, that's much better. I'm glad you're awake. You've been asleep for a few days and I was worried I'd have to wake you myself," she said, placing the bowl down on a table.
She was kneeling on the floor next to his mattress. He recognized her as the woman from the other day. Her eyes were soft and happy as they looked at him. He noticed the color was almost like a swirl of his own and his brother's. Her face was simple, her lips a light pink. She wore her hair in a long braid at the base of her neck. Her left ear was pierced at the top.
Beautiful, he thought.
"Who are you... where am I?" he managed to say.
"People know me as Esme Nime, but that's only an alias I go by when I'm working. You can call me Morphia, Mar for short," she said. She added, winking, "Professional assassin, at your service."
She removed the damp cloth from his forehead and replaced it with a new one. She wrung the old one out into a bowl and placed it in a bucket if cold water.
"This is my home. I took you here after Knives tried to kill you."
"Why?" he asked. "How do you know me? Knives? I've never met you before."
"I've been watching you two for quite some time. I've known about you both from the first day I came to this planet. It's mostly why I came. For you two. And for the rest of your kind. You could say it is my purpose in life," she said, dabbing his face with the cold cloth. "Why I saved you? It wasn't your time to die. No one has the right to take the life of another,"
"You knew Rem?" Vash asked.
"I've... I've met her," she replied. "Here, can you sit up?"
Vash sat up slowly, touching the back of his head. "Yea, I guess,"
"Finish this and rest some more. You need it," Mar said, handing him his soup.
He took it, drained it, and instantly fell asleep. Mar touched his head, making sure his sleep was dreamless. Such a good heart, she thought, I couldn't let it go to waste.
Her hands touched the metal grate over his chest. She made a note to ask him if she could heal his scars too. It was with in her power, wasn't it? Such kindness was wanted somewhere.
Knives had found Legato's old uniform. He'd dyed where it was blue into a sort of yellow shade and fixed it so it would fit him. He looked at his reflection in the window as he looked out over the city. The coffee shop across the street was erecting a large, glowing sign that read "Coffee!" in large bubble letters across an oversized steaming mug. The lights made his new costume glow. Legato had been such a tool, but his efficient ruthlessness and insanity Knives admired. He hoped to embody some of that if he put on the old costume. Ever since he had started living with Vash, he felt like his 'evil' bits have been castrated. They'd come back; he knew they would. He knew.
Knives flipped some of his long hair over his shoulder. He'd kill them. Every last one of those ungrateful sons-of-bitches that populated his potential paradise. An evil smirk stretched across his face. Every last one would go down.
He looked down at his hands, holding his gun. But first, he had some business to take care of. He had all the time in the world to do it too.
"I'm coming, Vash. I know you're out there and I'm coming for you."
Vash woke from his dreamless sleep by someone caressing his chest. His eyes shot open.
"Wha-?"
Mar was there, kneeling by him on the floor. Her hand was over one of the scars on his chest. A bright white light glowed from her palm. Where ever it touched, his scars faded away.
"What are you doing to me?" he asked, alarmed.
"I was just... healing up your scars. I wanted to help you," she said, with drawing her hand. Her face seemed puzzled.
"Well don't. They're part of me," he said, a little bit angry.
"Oh... sorry. I didn't know it was like that," she murmured, looking down.
"Hey, don't be like that, you've been really helpful and everything. Its just... you know," he said, putting a hand behind his head.
"Yea, I know," she replied quietly.
He closed his eyes and smiled at her, hoping to cheer her up. She looked so much better when she was happy.
She returned his smile, "Breakfast?"
"Yes please, ma'am!" he said.
Mar smiled, winking at him, "I made fresh doughnuts. Thought you'd like some,"
Vash jumped to his feet, ready to dash to the kitchen, but found that he could barely stand. He wobbled for a moment and started to tip over when she caught him.
"Easy there, Vash. Come on, I'll help you out," she said, draping his arm over her shoulders. With her help, he walked into the kitchen and sat at the table. Mar set a large plate of doughnuts. Vash's mouth watered.
"Can I start?"
"I've already eaten, help yourself," she said, shrugging.
With out further prompting, Vash started shoveling the doughnuts into his mouth. He couldn't have been more content. A pretty girl, fresh doughnuts, a place to stay: what more could he ask for? Mar laughed from the sink.
"Whaf's so fhunny?" Vash said, turning around, his cheeks bulging.
She turned around and leaned with her back against the sink rim. Her eyes sparkled as she laughed, "You."
He swallowed and laughed nervously. She turned back around and started scrubbing plates again.
"Coffee?" she asked.
"Yes please," he chirped in reply.
"Cream? Sugar?"
"Black."
She poured him a cup and set it beside him. He looked at it. Suddenly, memories from that morning rose up in him. He made no move to take a drink. His appetite also suddenly abandoned him. Mar noticed. She turned around and leaned against the counter, crossing her arms.
Vash watched the steam rise off of his cup, "Did I die?"
Mar said nothing for a moment. Then she said, "Yes."
"You brought me back to life?"
Pause, "Yes."
"How! Why! I don't understand!" he shouted, slapping his fist on the table. A drop of his coffee splashed onto the wood surface. "You say no one has the right to kill some one and yet you're an assassin! You say you've met Rem, but you couldn't have! It doesn't make any sense!"
There was silence for a moment. Mar reached over and wiped up the spill with her finger.
"You aren't the only one who isn't human, Vash," she said quietly. More silence.
"You're not?" He asked slowly.
"No, I'm not," she said. "Neither are you, plant." She said it in a way that wasn't mean or degrading. It came out more like a statement of fact.
He covered his face with his hands, "What about Knives? He... he's lost it again and its all my fault. He's gonna go out there and kill innocent people again. What am I going to do? I can't save them all..." he said sorrowfully. Hot tear started to stream down his face.
Mar sat down next to him and patted his back.
"I'm... I'm going to fail her..." He sobbed.
He leaned in and started to cry on her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him, soothing him as she did so. Her white shirt absorbed his tears. With out a word, she helped him stand and took him back to his sleeping mat and laid him down. After that, he rolled over and cried him self to sleep. She sat by him while he did, because she knew that exact feeling of despair. Of failure.
When Vash woke, it was dark out. He'd been sleeping on his side facing the wall. He opened his eyes and looked blankly into the black abyss of the window. What had woken him was that someone, somewhere, was singing.
He turned his head the other way, letting his body follow slowly. The lights in the ceiling were turned off, but dozens of candles were lit on the floor, casting shadows around the room. Mar was standing with her back to him. She moved slowly in the candlelight. Her body danced to a slow and skilled Tai Chi regime. It was she who was singing.
"It's such a beautiful night,
Why aren't you here to see?
My arms are cold and empty,
Under my favorite tree..."
Mar sang as she shifted from pose to pose.
There were more verses, Vash remembered that much. But he found him self lost in the sound of he it could hardly remember more than the chorus. He closed his eyes and sat up, listening. He was reminded of the song Rem used to sing. Oh poor Rem... Vash missed her. But he liked Mar; he like Mar a lot. Maybe he loved her. Vash couldn't think straight, not with that song in his ears...
Vash stayed with Mar for another three weeks. During that time she help him regain his strength. He'd wake up in the mornings when he smelled her cooking breakfast. She'd feed him (there were no more doughnut breakfasts after that first one, only chicken or soup so he could have some protein) and they'd talk over coffee. Vash found out a lot about Morphia, Professional Assassin at large that way.
Mar didn't like to kill, but she had to qualms about doing if for a job. A potential client would come to her, ask for a person to be whacked off, and then Mar would do it. After, of course, she gave 'the Talk'. 'The Talk' was basically a mini-lecture about how, once some one is dead, they cannot be brought back to life. It was her way of weeding out the crazy ones and "Honoring Rem," as she put it. Then, her hit would die. A single shot to the head, be it at close range or a sniper shot, or a quick and painless slit across the throat. The death would then be staged, Mar would be paid, and she would take the body.
"Where do you take them?" Vash asked.
"To Paradise," she said, pouring milk into her coffee.
"Paradise?"
"You and Knives keep saying that you'll make a paradise one day. I have," she replied. "I take them to my oasis, give them life again and set them loose in my Eden. They have water, shelter and food. What more do they need?"
Vash thought for a moment, "Are they clothed?"
"Optional,"
They both got a laugh out of that.
Her hits would die of age and then would be buried so they could give back to the land that had given to them.
"Death is not a scary thing. You shouldn't be afraid to die," she said one morning, looking out the window. A bird was feeding her hatchlings. "Death is the next part of Life. The next grand adventure."
After they'd finish breakfast, they'd meditate. After that, they would do some Tai Chi. Mar never sang when she worked with him. He'd heard her when she was washing dishes or doing something with her hands, but she always stopped before he got too close.
His strength returned steadily and soon he was back to his old self again, if not better. Vash's own feelings towards Mar, as he later realized in his last few days, had grown intensely strong. He felt he really loved her. Not the puppy loves from before. His heart ached to tell her, or say something, anything, but the time was never right.
When he first woke, he didn't realize it was his last day. He woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside the kitchen window. Vash couldn't smell any breakfast cooking, which was odd because Mar always made him breakfast.
"Maybe I slept in," Vash muttered to himself.
He swung his feet out of bed and rose, stretching. He let out a yawn and walked into the kitchen. His first thought was that Mar wasn't there. His second made his heart wrench.
Stretched neatly across the kitchen table were his flight suit and his red coat. Laid beside it was his gun, newly polished with a few extra rounds. There was his usual cup of coffee with a note attached to it. He picked it up, expecting the worst.
It read:
My Dear Vash-chan,
I've been holding on to these for you. Now that you're fully recovered, I want you to have them back. It's time for you to go out into the world again. Don't worry, I'll still be watching over you.
-Mar
He was reading it a second time when there was a loud thunk from the kitchen window. His head snapped up in time to see the baby bird fall and land in the window ceil outside. The momma bird that he and Mar had watched every morning was, apparently, teaching her babies to fly. This poor creature had flown into the window. Its head lay to the side and an awkward angle, its wings half open. The other birds made no move to help or inspect their fallen brethren. Vash couldn't help but fell awful.
He looked at the note again, then to his retired clothes. Steam rose from his coffee in lazy swirls.
"Shit," he cried in despair, slapping the table. "Oh Mar... why, Mar? Why?"
He slumped into one of the kitchen chairs and buried his head in his arms. Soft, soggy tears went down his face.
"I love you so much... why can't I just stay with you forever in paradise?" he sobbed. "I thought I might have a chance. I thought that... that you might love me too,"
He raised his head and looked over at the dead bird again. Death is the next part of Life, she had said. The next part of life. Resting on the window ceil were his glasses. Vash got up and walked over to them. He picked them up and rested them in his robotic hand. With his other one, he wiped his tears away.
"The next part of Life," he whispered. He raised his voice, "I must now be a man! I will go out and save the world," he said, clutching his glasses to his heart.
"Aw, who I'm kidding?" he said, turning around. "I just have to move on again,"
He got dressed in silence. When he was done, he sat back at the kitchen table and drank his coffee slowly. His eyes, shielded by his glasses read her note over and over. It seemed to be written in haste and left regardless, but her printing was so perfect. She was so perfect.
"Damn it," he whispered, closing the door behind him. He left half of his coffee unfinished, cooling by the window ceil. The dead bird rolled off and landed on the ground.
Knives sat at of the counter of the 24-hour coffee shop. He hadn't been able to find Vash. He had looked high and low through out the world, but no such luck. If worse comes to worse, he thought, I'll track down this Esme Nime woman and hire her to find him for me. Yes, I'll use her like I used Legato. Humans, they are such tools. And it's so easy to manipulate them. Vash can't hide forever. I know he's alive out there, I can feel it.
He sipped his drink quietly. He was the only customer at that hour, so he could sit in peace. There were two other waitresses and a short order cook in the back. He smirked and rested his cup against his lips. For his paradise, sacrifices must be made.
The younger of the two waitresses was whispering to the other. Knives closed his eyes and listened in.
"...Yea, he is kinda creepy, isn't he? It's the skull that does it. At least you don't have to go over there and talk to him. Ug! I just get shivers," she said quickly. She looked down at her watch, "hey, I gotta go ask him if he'd like anything else."
She got up and came over to him, standing behind the counter. She smiled kindly.
"Hey honey, could I get anything else for you? More coffee?"
Knives put his cup down, "No."
He looked up into her eyes and held her gaze. She began to shake a little. Then, a memory from when she was so little came up in her head.
A man with blue hair was sitting on a park bench. He was eating something, a hot dog was it? He had been wearing the exact same costume as this customer, except it had been blue. She had taken the food, no, he had given it to her, but his eyes were so unsettling. He had scared her. That is what this man did, only he was here now.
"Actually, I'd like to speak to your cook," Knives requested slowly.
"S-sure thing, s-sir," she said, stammering a little.
She turned around and called through window, "Hey, Henry? Someone wants to talk to you!"
The greasy cook stuck his head out, "What?"
Knives looked at him down the barrel of his gun. With out a word, he fired right in between poor Henry's eyes.
The younger waitress let out a scream. Knives got her right in the throat, making her fall to the ground. The other waitress turned and screamed at the scene. Knives, with out turning to look at her, fired a round right in her mouth. She flew back and hit the wall, spitting blood everywhere. Then she fell forward and died.
Knives finished his coffee. Putting it down on the saucer.
A low, deep laugh escaped his lips, "Perfect."
When he left, a message written in blood over the window to the kitchen read:
"Vash"
Just, "Vash".
Ending thoughts: wow, I leave that hanging don't I? I liked that I incorporated that little kid that Legato was messing around with. What else...I feel sometimes that I am unusually cruel to Vash in this, but it gets better for him, I promise. Just not right away. And now, on to part two.