Whew! Finally we're done with the introductory chapters! Now on to the real plot!

Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun

LIVING MEMORIES

-A Trigun Story-

Chapter 7: The Return of Knives

"Michael, is your mom home?"

"No. Is something wrong, Meryl?"

"Look, I just really need to talk to her. Do you have any idea when she'll get home?"

"No."

Meryl ran an agitated hand through her ebony hair.

"Meryl, what's going on?"

"Nothing. Just tell her I need to talk to her when she gets home, okay?"

"Okay."

At that Meryl was gone, disappearing through the door she had burst through just moments before.

Fortunately for her, she spotted Milly just down the street.

"Milly! Milly!" She ran to the tall woman, who looked up in surprise at the urgency in Meryl's voice.

"Meryl? Is something wrong?"

"Listen to me Milly," she said, taking the other woman by the shoulders, "he's back."

Milly's light blue eyes reflected the fact that she had no idea what Meryl was talking about.

"Who's back, Meryl?"

"Him."

Understanding dawned in the brunette's wide eyes. "Oh . . ."

Michael looked up from the newspaper as the front door swung open.

"Hey Mom. Meryl was here earlier. She said she needed to . . ." he trailed off at the look on his mother's face. She looked strangely somber, her eyes unfocused. It was highly unlike her. She smiled half-heartedly at him.

"I know. She found me."

"Mom, what's going on?"

"Nothing, son. Something's just come up."

"Mom, if it's that serious, I think I have a right to know."

"It doesn't matter, dear. Don't worry about it."

Michael stood and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Vash's. He'll tell me what's going on."

Milly sighed, not trying to stop him. He'd have found out eventually anyway.

Vash wasn't home. Instead Michael found Meryl sitting alone on their porch, looking oddly depressed, much like his mother had. She didn't even notice him until he was sitting next to her.

"Hi Michael."

"Meryl, what's going on?"

"So your mom wouldn't tell you?"

"No."

Meryl sighed. "Knives is back, Michael."

Michael stiffened. "Back?"

"Vash heard a report about a mass disappearance in a town somewhere. There's no doubt in his mind that it's Knives."

"How does he know?"

"I don't know. But I believe him."

Michael sighed, leaning back so he was resting on his elbows. He had a few memories of Knives, but they were nothing like the psychotic man-killer that Vash had described to him. He just faintly remembered the time when Knives had been staying with Meryl and Vash, when he had been just a kid. The blonde man with icy blue eyes had been there to heal from what Michael had later found out was a battle with Vash. He had seemed harmless enough. But one day he had just disappeared. He remembered that when Knives had first disappeared, everyone had been really worried and on edge about it, but over the years nothing had happened and Vash's twin brother had practically been forgotten, at least by Michael.

"What's the big deal with this Knives guy anyway? Vash defeated him once before, he doesn't sound like he was that big of a deal."

"Don't be like that. You know he's Vash's twin brother." She pulled her legs up against her and wrapped her arms around them. "I'm scared for Vash, Michael. I never saw Knives myself, at least before Vash defeated him, but I saw some of the Gung-Ho Guns. They were horrible. And what frightened me most of all was just what Knives' presence did to Vash. I've never seen him like that, before or since."

Michael looked down, sobered by the strength of Meryl's feelings. Suddenly it dawned on him that his mother had been through the exact same thing. Sweet, naive Milly had indirectly experienced the effects of the most maniacal killer in history, the man bent on the genocide of the entire human race, the man responsible for his father's death.

"What are you going to tell Carly and her family, and Frey and Alec?"

"Only what they have to know. Carly and Sloan met Knives while Vash was healing him, before he disappeared, so they know a little about him. They know nothing about the plants, of course, or that he's Vash's brother, though. But they know he was a murderer, and that Vash defeated him, though they think that's just due to the fact that Vash is the Stampede. Vash will tell Aidan, Frey, and Alec the same thing. That's where he is right now. Then he'll come back here and get ready to leave."

"When is he leaving?"

"Tonight."

Frey's blood had run cold as Vash spoke. His face had been ashen, dead, unlike she had ever seen it before. And she froze in fear as the dreaded word passed his lips. Knives.

Now she stood in her room, shoving her few belongings into the bag that she had had since she met Michael. Alec walked into the room.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going with Vash."

Alec was completely taken aback. "Why?"

"I've read about this Knives guy. He's really bad, Alec. He slaughtered hundreds of people about twenty years ago, but he's been missing ever since then. No one's actually ever seen him, though, at least not anyone that's survived. Well, besides Vash."

"And you're going after him because . . ."

"I don't want that to happen again."

"Frey, you heard Vash. He took care of him before, he can do it again."

"And you didn't see the look on Vash's face, Alec. I've never seen him like that before."

"So he's a little worried. It's no big-"

"It's a big deal, Alec. It's a very big deal. Look, I have the power and ability to help Vash, and stop this guy. I'd be being selfish if I just stayed behind and left it to him."

Alec smirked. "Well, I guess there's no stopping you."

"Nope."

"Then I'm going too."

"No, Alec-"

"Frey," he cut in, "I'm not completely helpless either, you know." He pulled a small knife seemingly out of nowhere, the silver blade glinting in the dim light as he spun it adeptly with his fingers to prove his point.

"Alec, this is serious."

"Who said I'm not being serious?"

Frey almost retorted, but decided this one time it would be better not to butt heads with him. He was as stubborn as she was, if not more so, and if she was going there was no changing his mind.

"Fine. Just go get packed."

Alec answered with a cocky grin, inwardly rejoicing at his victory.

"Vash?" Vash looked up at the weak word spoken by Meryl. She was standing in the doorway to his bedroom, a brown package in her hands.

"Yes, Meryl?"

"I-I have something for you."

Sensing her fear and knowing that she was probably near tears, teetering on the edge of a breakdown, Vash set down the shirt he was putting in his bag and sat down on the bed, patting the spot next to him. She walked the short distance to the bed and sat down beside him, handing him the lumpy package.

Vash carefully took it, pulling back the brown paper slowly. He froze at what met his eyes.

"I didn't know you kept these," he choked out.

"I know you stopped using them after the last time you defeated Knives," Meryl quietly explained, "b-but I thought you might need them again someday. Milly and I went and got them one night after your fight."

Vash placed the half open package on the floor, then turned to Meryl, opening his arms to her. She gladly fell into them, her eyes finally overflowing with previously dammed up tears.

"Meryl," he whispered, barely holding back his own tears, "I love you so much."

She only started to cry harder, clinging to him as if he was life itself.

"Please," she whispered through her tears, "please Vash, promise me I won't lose you again."

He quickly bit off a sob that was beginning to emerge from his throat. "I promise, Meryl. I'll come back to you. I could never leave you."

He held her tightly, knowing it very well may be the last time he had a chance to. No matter how much he promised her, he knew he couldn't guarantee his own safety, at least not when Knives was involved. He would do everything possible to prevent anything from happening, though. She deserved it.

Reluctantly he pulled back from her, knowing he had to get going. She tried to smile at him, understanding, though her attempt wasn't very successful.

"I love you," he whispered once again.

"I love you too."

He bent over and lifted the package back off the ground, setting it on the bed, and lifting his old red coat out of it. He pulled it on, slowly, almost ceremonially, and then placed the strange yellow sunglasses he hadn't worn for six long years over his eyes for a final touch. He looked at Meryl, seeking her approval. She stepped back, looked him up and down, then smiled and nodded. Regardless of the circumstances that had brought it out, it was good to have this outfit back.

Finally he reached back into the package and withdrew a large silver object, none other than his .45 Long Colt. He sighed slightly in relief. Until now, he had relied completely on his arm as his primary weapon. But that wouldn't suffice in another battle against Knives. Suddenly he was very thankful for the fact that Meryl had had the foresight to gather this precious object almost two decades ago.

"Meryl, where is Knives' gun?"

"We left it in the desert," she answered quietly.

Vash smiled softly. "Thank you, Meryl," he whispered.

While Vash, Frey, and Alec packed, and Meryl, Carly, Aidan, and Sloan were saying their goodbyes, Michael sat at home, eating a silent dinner with his mother. She hadn't said a word about his going to see Vash. In fact, she hadn't mentioned anything about the current situation to him, even though there was no doubt that he knew. Michael stabbed the piece of chicken on his plate angrily, growing more frustrated with the fact that she kept treating him like a child.

After all, she was more childish than him by far. It had been that way for years. He couldn't help feeling like she had no right to tell him what to do when she wasn't exactly cut out to be mother, at least in his eyes. After all, Knives was back. And with the exception of when she had come home earlier, just after hearing the news, she had acted like nothing had changed. He almost wondered if she even understood the gravity of the situation. Then again, he had acted as if it was no big deal when talking to Meryl. Maybe he wasn't as different from his mother as he had thought.

"More chicken?" she asked cheerfully, as if nothing in the world was wrong.

"No, Mom."

"Alrighty."

He rolled his eyes, then looked back down at his plate, chasing the bite size piece of meat around in circles with his fork. Across from him, Milly took a huge bite, not bothering to chew slowly and politely. Not willing to take the chance of catching her in a bad mood later, though that was highly unlikely, Michael took a deep breath.

"Mom?"

"Yes dear?" she answered, looking up and blinking at him.

He decided to forget buttering her up and just take the plunge. "I'm going with Vash."

His mother's eyes at first reflected pure shock, but that was quickly washed away with a look of mild surprise.

"What are you talking about, Michael?"

"Mom, I'm not stupid. I know what's going on. I know about Knives. And I want to go with Vash."

"Oh, honey, you can't do that." Michael didn't know whether to feel angry that she was saying no or relieved that she was finally acknowledging the fact that he understood what was going on.

"Why not?" he asked indignantly.

Milly smiled at the look in his eyes, thinking that perhaps Frey had rubbed off on him.

"It's too dangerous, dear. And Vash can take care of it."

"Mom, I'm not a child! I can take care of myself, and I can help Vash!"

Milly continued to just smile at him understandingly. "I know you want to go, but it's just not worth the risk of something happening to you, not when Vash can handle everything by himself."

Michael stiffened at her words, suddenly realizing what this was all about.

"I can't believe this," he muttered, anger and shock fighting for prominence in his tone.

"Believe what?" Milly asked, appearing unfazed by his voice.

"Honestly Mom, haven't you gotten over it yet! It's been nineteen years! Move on, and stopping limiting me just because you're afraid that what happened to him will happen to me! I'm not a child, and I'm sick of you treating me like one just because you're scared. I'm not going to be stupid and go get myself killed! I'm not my father!"

Milly's fork fell from her hand, clattering for a few seconds on her plate. Michael fell back a step, realizing the impact of what he had said too late. He had gone way too far.

Milly looked up at him slowly, her eyes shining with tears that threatened to overflow at a moment's notice. Michael realized with a start that it was the first time he had seen her cry. Well, the first time he had seen her really cry. Yet she still smiled, though the expression was bittersweet instead of joyful.

"You're right, Michael," she started slowly, a single tear trickling down her cheek and leaving a wet trail behind it. "You're not your father." She looked down, not wanting him to see her weakness. "But you're not Mr. Vash either."

"Mom-"

"Michael Nicholas Thompson, you are not going." She quickly cut off his rebuttal by continuing. "The reason why doesn't matter. I'm your mother and I said no."

Michael shook his head in disbelief, not believing that Milly Thompson, his own mother, was standing up to him like this, so determined. The truth was that the last time she had been so unmoving was when she had been back at that old hotel, waiting for Wolfwood, insisting on staying just because he had told her to even amidst the sound of gunfire and obvious danger.

Angrily Michael stood and left the table, stomping up the stairs and slamming his bedroom door behind him. Milly watched him leave, her big blue eyes filled with sadness, then just looked back down at her plate, the tears starting to flow.

Michael pushed his door open slowly, cringing as it squeaked, then listened. They were faint, but his mother's soft sniffles were still there, the only sign of her tears. He wondered how long she had cried. It was weird seeing her like this. It wasn't like her. But then again, he had never acted like that around her, and never spoken of his father in that way.

As silently as possible he pushed his door open the rest of the way and started slowly down the stairs. Milly was standing at the sink, washing her and Michael's dishes and sniffing frequently. Her eyes were still slightly red, and Michael suddenly felt full of pity and regret. He never should have said what he did. But there was no going back, and he knew he would have to face her about it eventually.

Milly turned as she heard his footsteps from near the stairs. Quickly she wiped at her eyes and then smiled warmly. It pulled at Michael's soul.

How could she keep smiling like that, especially after what had just happened? She had always been excessively positive and optimistic, but not to the point that it was irrational. No, Michael corrected himself, she had. Her cheerfulness had never really made any sense.

"Mom, I'm . . ." almost immediately his voice faltered. He couldn't stand watching her like this. He wanted so badly to apologize, but inside he knew that what he had said was true. That didn't justify it, but he had still been right. Watching her smile like that just reminded him that she kept on treating him like the kid she still wished him to be, and that thought made it incredibly hard to apologize. Still, he forced himself to swallow his pride and took a deep breath.

"Mom, I'm really sorry for what I-"

"Don't, Michael." He stopped, looking at her in surprise.

"What?"

"I should be apologizing, dear. You were right. I shouldn't treat you like that. You're eighteen now, after all," she said, turning back to her soapy dishes, "you're a man. You can take care of yourself."

Michael stood dumbfounded. What was she saying? Milly withdrew her hands from the water and dried them on a nearby towel.

"I want to show you something, Michael." She walked towards him, then past him and up the stairs, with him following behind, still a bit shocked. She walked into her room and to the closet.

"Ok Michael, close your eyes."

"Mom . . ." he whined.

"Come on! It's a surprise!"

Deciding it would be best to humor her, Michael placed his hands over his eyes and waited. He heard his mother open the closet door, then grunt softly as if she was lifting something really heavy. He began to slide one of his fingers aside to sneak a look.

"No peeking!" she squealed.

"Sorry."

Milly placed whatever it was she had retrieved from the closet on the ground, making a significant thud and arousing Michael's curiosity.

"Alright," she said, the grin on her face apparent through her voice, "open 'em."

Michael's hands fell away from his face, then grew numb along with most of the rest of his body as his eyes took in the sight before them.

"Is, is that . . ."

Milly's smile widened at his reaction. "I knew you'd like it."

Michael took a slow step forward, running his hand down the cold steel. It seemed so familiar, though he was sure he had never seen it in his life.

"It's called the Cross Punisher."

"This was Dad's, wasn't it?"

Milly nodded. "I want you to have it, Michael."

"What?"

She smiled, though this time it was more melancholy and Michael sensed the pain behind the expression.

"Your father was a brave man, Michael. A good man. Remember him with this." Her eyes softened. "And be careful."

Taking the Cross Punisher from her and leaning it against the wall, Michael took his mother in his arms, trying to stifle a sob. She just patiently patted him on the back, softly humming a lullaby she had sung to him years ago. Michael knew how much this was probably costing her. No matter how old he got, he would always be her baby. He was all she had, but she had still decided to let him go, because she knew it was what he wanted.

"Thank you so much, Mom."

"We should probably get going. Vash will be leaving soon." Michael pulled back, nodding and lifting the Cross Punisher from its position resting against the wall.

"It's heavy," he quietly commented.

Milly smiled. "That's because it's so full of mercy." Then she linked her arm in his, silently allowing him to lead her out of the house and down the street.

"Look, it's Milly and Michael."

Meryl looked in the direction Frey was pointing, then sighed in relief, glad that they had gotten here before Vash left. Then she saw the Cross Punisher.

"What in the world is that thing?" Frey asked, having noticed it too.

"It was Michael's father's gun."

"That thing is a gun!"

Meryl nodded. By this time Milly and Michael had reached them, and Meryl had realized that it was Milly's intention to let Michael accompany Vash. She glanced at her best friend. That must have been quite the fight. Surely there had been tears.

Vash turned as he heard them approach, and smiled at the sight of the Cross Punisher held by Michael. So the two of them had brought that back too.

"So Michael, you joining us?"

"Us?" Michael asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Alec and Frey are coming too."

Michael's insides turned, partly in dread of being around Alec any longer and partly in joy at the fact that Frey was going.

Frey threw her bag in the car and walked up to Milly, hugging the older woman. She would be sad to leave her behind. Milly was one of the kindest people she had ever met, and a treasured friend. Milly hugged back and then leaned over to whisper in the significantly shorter woman's ear.

"Thanks for everything, Frey. You really mean a lot to me . . . and Michael," she added with a quick wink. The way she said it made Frey blush slightly, and she was suddenly very glad that it was dark out.

Likewise, Michael was saying his goodbyes. He shook Sloan's hand briefly, who looked relieved to be getting rid of Frey and Alec, and then turned to Aidan. She was obviously distraught, and suddenly reached out hugged him, trying to suppress her tears.

"Good luck," she said in his ear, "I wish I could go with you." Michael glanced over her shoulder at Sloan, understanding as he watched him that Aidan's desire to accompany them would never be fulfilled. He pulled back and smiled, patting her on the shoulder to assure her that everything would be alright. Then he joined Vash, Alec, and Frey in the car. Vash looked back at Meryl one more time and winked from behind his yellow glasses, then started the car and pushed down on the gas.

Frey watched them sadly as they disappeared into the distance. Sloan and Carly had already turned and were headed home, but Aidan, Meryl, and Milly still stood where they had left them. Milly was standing on her tip-toes, as if she wasn't tall enough already, waving enthusiastically. Frey waved back, smiling slightly, then slid into her seat next to Alec, sighing.

"Come on," Meryl said, putting an arm around each of the other womens' shoulders, "let's go home."