thanks so much to my reviewers! You guys are great! Here's the next chapter! (But what happened to Bouzouki Joe and Ashari!)
LIVING MEMORIES
-A Trigun Story-
Chapter 9: Haunting Reminiscence
"Michael?"
"Yeah, Frey?"
"What is it with this Knives guy, anyway?"
"What do you mean? Vash told you about how he defeated him nineteen years ago."
"I'm not dumb, Michael. There's more that you aren't telling us. I mean, am I supposed to believe that Vash just happened to be on a stroll one day and came across a psychotic killer and decided to battle him?"
Michael quickly glanced over his shoulder before turning his eyes back to the road, making sure that Vash, Aidan, and Alec, who sat in the back seat, were really asleep. The three had dozed off after they had been on the road again for an hour or two this morning. Sure enough, they were all out like a light. He would have suspected Vash of faking it, if not for the fact that he knew the Stampede had had more than one drink last night. Sighing, he glanced at Frey out of the corner of his eye.
"Do you promise not to repeat anything I'm about to tell you?"
Frey's expression changed from teasing to serious immediately. Solemnly she nodded. So he began.
He told her everything he knew, with the exception of the fact that Vash and Knives were brothers, and inhuman.
First he explained everything there was to know about the Gung-Ho Guns. Frey held her breath as he described each one, ending with the infamous Legato.
"Vash killed Legato," Michael said, his face ashen. "That was just before he fought that last battle with Knives."
He continued, Frey's countenance darkening with every passing moment. He explained that after the battle, Vash had brought the injured Knives back with him. He, Meryl, and Milly had moved to December at that point.
"After a while, though, when I was still just a baby, Knives mysteriously disappeared. I can't remember anything else from when I was that young, and I don't remember a lot about Knives, but his face is still clear in my mind, as if I saw him yesterday. Somehow I've never been able to forget."
Frey murmured something inaudible, making Michael pause. When she said nothing, however, he fell silent as well.
The two were left to mill through their own thoughts for a few minutes, until Frey interrupted the uncomfortable silence with a soft question.
"There's something else, isn't there? There's something you're not telling me."
Michael sighed. "Am I that apparent?"
She nodded quietly.
Taking a deep breath, Michael began the end to his explanation. "Remember that one Gung-Ho Gun that I told you about, Chapel the Evergreen?" Frey nodded, showing that she remembered. Michael's next words were his softest yet. "My father was his apprentice."
Frey said nothing, knowing he would continue momentarily and not wanting to force it out of him and cause him to draw back from her.
"That's right," he said, smiling bitterly, "my father was one of the Gung-Ho Guns. Well, he was supposed to be, at least."
He proceeded to tell her everything about Nicholas D. Wolfwood, his position as a priest, the orphanage, and his less innocent affiliation with Knives. He told her about his mission against Vash, the one he had abandoned and ended up dying for.
"I think Vash left a lasting impression on him," he said, choking up, "and so did my mom. They convinced him to change his ways."
Frey smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. Her usual self would have at least teased him about getting so emotional over it, but she didn't want to ruin the moment he had just shared with her. She sensed that this was a subject on which he rarely spoke, and the fact that he had shared his feelings with her meant more than she had imagined it could.
"Thanks, Michael."
He didn't answer, just nodding as Aidan began to stir from the back seat.
"Where are w-" Alec bit off his question and his hands fell away from the sleepy eyes he had been rubbing as they reached the crest of a hill and the distant city came into view. A chill ran up and down his spine. Even though they hadn't arrived yet, the city seemed to emit an eerie aura, felt even from this far away. He knew that everyone else had the same feeling as the car fell suddenly silent. Alec clamped his mouth shut, almost afraid to break the silence with his voice, as eerie as it was. Thankfully, Frey answered his unasked question for all of them.
It's Cerin City.
Vash awoke as the car neared the city. He took a few moments to get his bearings, then sat up straight and looked at the distant town. His face darkened.
"This is it."
Aidan glanced up at him, then softly whispered. "Vash, why are we here?"
"This is the place," he answered solemnly, "the place where Knives was last reported to have been seen." Everyone else in the car tensed at that statement, their heartbeats growing steadily faster as they neared the outskirts of town and the eerie feelings only heightened. Michael turned the wheel and pulled into the city. There wasn't a soul to be found. Everything was completely silent. A few scattered papers lay in the road, shifting slightly in the soft breeze, but that was the only movement. The group parked in front of the nearest building, a restaurant, following Vash's lead and walking inside to see what they might find.
Glasses that were still filled sat on the tabletops. The "open" sign was left hanging on the door. Coats hung on the coat racks. It was as if everyone in the city had disappeared at a moment's notice, leaving everything exactly as it was.
"Get back in the car." It was Vash. Frey looked up at him apprehensively, but her protest died as she saw the look on his face. Silently she submitted, followed by everyone else. This time Vash climbed into the driver's seat, started the car, and continued down the road without a word. Aidan found herself sinking slowly into her seat.
As the last of the buildings fell away behind them and they were thrust suddenly into an open area, Vash stopped the car. Frey looked up to see what had stopped him, then froze.
Knives.
The word was written in red, right across town square, on what she assumed to be town hall. The crimson letters appeared to be dripping.
As if . . . they're . . . blood . . .
Vash pushed his door open and ran to the word. Frey's eyes followed his footsteps, and her blood ran cold. Aidan screamed, clapping her hand over her mouth and falling back.
The square was covered with bodies. Their faces were pale, lifeless, the expression of fear from their last moments frozen in time on their fallen facades.
Michael stiffened, realizing that the man that had killed these men and women had indirectly killed his own father. Was this what his father had looked like in his last moments? Michael's thoughts immediately turned to his mother. Had she seen massacres like this? Shocked, he realized she had probably seen much worse. Suddenly he felt overwhelmed with guilt, as he began to see the wisdom in her attempts to stop him from going.
He stepped out of the car and walked to the nearest body. It was a man, probably in his mid-thirties. He was laying over a woman, a terrified look in her dull eyes. He had been trying to protect her. Michael fell back as he noticed another hand protruding from under the man. This one was smaller, more delicate. There were children here too.
Michael squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists at his sides before falling to his knees in defeat. What was he thinking? How could he expect to stand up to something like this?
Aidan closed her eyes and cringed as Alec leaned over the side of the car to vomit. He leaned back into the car, his face pale, not only because of the fact that he had just gotten sick. Hot tears began to crawl down Aidan's cheeks. Even with the strange feelings that the city practically emitted, she had expected a mediocre bandit at most. A massacre was the furthest thing from her mind. There must have been at least a hundred . . .
Vash fell to his knees in front of the name just as Frey reached him.
"It's written in blood," he murmured, pointing weakly at the word. It was all Frey could do to not openly gape at him. He almost looked like he was crying. Vash the Stampede had been reduced to tears.
In reality, Vash was nearly shocked beyond tears. This hadn't happened for nearly two decades now, and the revival of his brother's trademark had thrown him into internal chaos. He hadn't thought he would ever have to go through this again, much less drag Frey, Michael, Aidan, and Alec down with him. He hadn't even completely believed the reports, thinking perhaps it was just a hoax. After all, it wouldn't have been the first time the authorities had exaggerated. That was why he had allowed everyone else to come along with him. If he had known Knives had really returned, he never would have endangered their lives like this.
"Most of them escaped," he murmured, mostly to himself, "but these . . ." He turned, motioning to the numberless dead laying at their feet. Frey felt herself overwhelm with anger.
"He had no right to do this," she said, her voice not betraying her emotions, though her expression clearly did. "He had no right to kill, to take innocent lives." Vash started and looked up at her. The red glare in her eyes had returned. In spite of the entire situation, Vash smiled. In her passion, Frey looked just like Rem again.
He sighed. "This is even worse than last time," he murmured.
"What do you mean?"
"Last time the people just disappeared. They were found again eventually, though some of them never quite recovered from the trauma. This time though, Knives showed no mercy. This was an unrestrained slaughter."
Alec smashed down the last mound of dirt with a shovel and wiped at his brow. Somehow they had gotten all of the bodies buried, but it had taken hours. The sun had nearly set by now, and everyone else had left, him insisting that he could finish. His chest heaved up and down in a deep sigh. He had to get Frey out of here now. It had been fun while it was still just a game, but he had humored her long enough. It wasn't safe anymore, and no matter how powerful either of them was, he couldn't risk anything.
He heard soft footsteps from behind him and turned to find Aidan standing there. Her red hair practically glowed in the dying light. She held a piece of wood in her arms, a skinnier strip of wood attached to it. He stepped back as Aidan, still puffy-eyed and sniffling, moved forward and pushed the skinny end into the ground. She stepped back, allowing him to read it.
It was a simple epitaph, dedicated to those that had died at the hand of Knives. Alec raised his eyebrows, surprised and somewhat touched at Aidan's thoughtfulness. She glanced over her shoulder at him, but he looked away, shouldering the shovel and turning to walk away as if he hadn't even noticed the sign. Her face fell, and she looked back at the sign, sighing heavily.
The unsureness of night brought a greater fear on the group. They had decided it would be best to remain in Cerin City for the night, since it was already dark and they all needed rest anyway. They had picked out one of the buildings furthest from town square, a moderately sized bed-and-breakfast. Frey, Aidan, Michael, and Alec had all picked out their own rooms on the second floor, while Vash insisted on staying on the first, just in case. Frey had just slipped off her jacket and collapsed into the huge puffy chair next to her bed when there was a knock at the door.
"Come in."
Michael's head appeared from behind the door. Frey smiled at the sight of his blue eyes. Even when things had fallen beyond hope, they were still bright and reassuring.
"Can I help you?" Smiling, he entered the room and leaned against the wall.
"Are you okay?"
Frey frowned. "Why are you suggesting that I might not be?"
"Hey, I just-"
"I'm fine, Michael."
"You're hopeless, you know that?"
"Funny, it seems I've been told that before."
"Hmm," he replied, scratching the coal black hair on his head, "I wonder why?"
She just smiled instead of answering, allowing silence to fall on the room. Michael walked to the window and pulled open the curtains.
"It's going to rain."
Frey bolted upright in her chair.
"What?"
Michael turned and smiled, hearing the shock in her voice. "Strange, huh? I can't even remember the last time it rained."
"Six years."
"What?"
"The last time I saw rain, I was twelve. It was six years ago."
"Oh." Michael didn't really seemed disturbed at her strange answer. He looked back out the window for a few moments, then turned back to her.
"Frey, I want you to have something."
She arched a questioning eyebrow. Michael held up his right hand in front of him, then pulled a shiny silver ring from off of one of his fingers. He held it out in front of him.
"Here."
Frey quickly shook her head, holding her hands out in front of her to symbolize 'no.' Michael smiled wryly.
"Frey, stop being so stubborn and just take it."
"I can't accept-"
"Frey." His word wasn't harsh or angry, but was still strong enough to cut off any further protest from her. She silently watched as he grabbed her by the wrist and placed the ring in her palm, pushing her fingers closed around it.
His face took on a serious expression as he spoke again. "We're in this together now, Frey," he explained. "There's no going back anymore. And in case anything happens to me," he paused, the impact of his words hitting both him and her, "I just want you to have something to remember me by."
"Michael, don't talk like that-"
"Frey," he interrupted, "you can stop pretending to be so strong."
Frey stopped, taken aback. "Excuse me?"
"You saw it too, Frey. No matter how strong you are, you're not stupid. You know I could easily meet the same fate."
She began to protest again, but he cut off her words with a quick smile.
"Don't worry, though. I'm sure everything will be fine." He stood, walking back to the door. "Goodnight."
Without another word he pulled the door shut behind him, and Frey heard his footsteps growing steadily softer as he disappeared down the hall. She opened her hand. The ring still sat there, glimmering in the soft light. As much as she hated to admit it, she knew he was right. The worst could happen to any of them, not just him. She had gotten herself in a big mess this time.
Turning, she dug around in her bag for a few moments, and soon pulled out a long silver chain, only slightly duller than the ring. She slipped Michael's ring over it, then fastened the clasp under her long raven hair. She looked in the mirror. It was comforting, having a small piece of Michael hovering always near her, so close to her heart.
A huge clap of thunder shook the building. Frey jumped, involuntarily grabbing the ring and looking to the window. There was a quick flash among the falling rain drops. But she knew it hadn't been lightning.
Feeling suddenly cold, she pulled her jacket back on and walked slowly to the window, her eyes searching the darkness for the source of the movement she had seen. For a moment she expected to see Alec appear, with another crazy plan to take her away, but she quickly shook that thought out of her mind. She unlocked the window and slid it slowly open, sticking her head into the cold air. The rain was inches from her face, but still missed it due to the small overhang above her window.
"Hello . . ."
Her only answer was another clap of thunder and a flash of lightning, at which she fell back into her room. Her shock hadn't come from the sudden light and loud noise, however.
She tried to scream, but found herself unable to even move. The light had revealed a figure sitting on the railing of the fire escape, with an expressionless face that struck her with utter surprise and horror. The man stepped forward, the window shattering seemingly of its own volition. Light flooded onto the dripping figure, and her fears were confirmed.
Please, no.
The man's piercing yellow eyes fell on her, boring into her soul. His wet blue hair clung to his face, appearing darker than usual. The hair on the back of her neck rose as his chilling voice filled her ears.
"What did you expect to happen if you came after our master?"
She suddenly felt control over her legs return to her, and she fell back a step. Her only movement was soon stopped, however, as a power far beyond her own began to overtake her body. As a last attempt to remain standing before she fell to her knees, she fumbled for the table next to her bed, but her only accomplishment was knocking the gray sunglasses that had previously sat there onto the floor, splitting one of the lenses. Her knees cracked against the hard wood floor, but a larger concern arose as her vision began to blur and she began to feel lightheaded. The last thing she saw before losing consciousness was the man's hand, reaching out to take her away and do with her what it would. And there was nothing she could do about it.
Michael stretched and yawned loudly as the sun hit his face. He was sprawled out on his bed, his blankets askew and halfway on the floor from his movements during the night. He sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, then climbed out of bed. Grabbing his black pants and the navy blue shirt Frey had once bought him, he opened his door and headed for the bathroom.
On the way down the hall, he stopped at Frey's room and pushed the door open to see if she was still asleep. An empty bed greeted his eyes.
"Frey?" He stepped into the room, thinking maybe she was in the chair or something. But she wasn't there. At first he shrugged it off, thinking she must already be downstairs, but then a cold breeze flowed in through the window. He glanced over at it, and discovered the glass to be laying on the floor in a million pieces.
"Frey!" He ran to the window, his foot falling on something larger than a piece of glass with a soft 'crunch.' He lifted his foot, and discovered Frey's already cracked sunglasses. His eyebrows narrowed in anger as he picked them up. He followed his first instinct. He ran to Alec's room.
Michael received an even greater surprise when he found Alec asleep in bed. So he hadn't taken her again. Multiple worst-case scenarios already popping into his head, Michael ran down the stairs, calling for Vash.
"Are you sure she was kidnapped, Michael?" Vash asked from his position kneeling next to the broken window.
"That's what you said last time, Vash," Michael answered, scowling from next to the door. "She would have left a note otherwise."
Vash sighed and nodded, realizing that his forced optimism wasn't going to change anything. Frey had been taken against her will, again, but this time the circumstances were much more serious.
"I'm going to go tell Aidan and Alec," Vash said, standing. He glanced at Michael over his shoulder as reached the door. "Take your time." He closed the door softly behind him.
Michael's scowl almost immediately melted into a face of confusion and pain. He slammed his fist angrily against the wall, blaming himself for letting her be taken again.
I should have been there.
He leaned his forehead against the wall as tears began to sting his eyes. Cursing himself even more for crying, and knowing it wouldn't help anything, he sank to his knees in hopelessness. Even if he had been there, would he have been able to save her? Was he strong enough? No, he told himself. He was useless to her. And the tears began to run.
Vash trudged slowly down the stairs, his thoughts tangled in a web of confusion and disarray. Not only had the reports about his brother been proven beyond doubt, but now Frey had mysteriously disappeared. Could it have been Knives? And if it was, what was his purpose in doing it? What was he plotting?
Vash's mind relaxed considerably as he heard a piano from another room nearby. Whoever was playing it was in the middle of a soft song, almost like a lullaby. Vash leaned against the door to the room from which the noise came and sighed. Suddenly the music stopped, and the pianist began to press different keys for another song. Vash listened in mild surprise to the familiar song for a few minutes, until a soft voice began to accompany the piano.
"So . . . on the first night, from somewhere a pebble falls onto the earth . . ."
Vash smiled at the comforting words that had almost incessantly run through his head since the day Rem had died. He pushed the door open slowly to observe the musician. It was Alec. The words continued, running from "the first night" all the way to the eighth morning. Vash took a slow, deep breath.
"Well . . . in a new sky, the song that told of everything echoes, sound life . . . sound life."
Alec turned in surprise as he heard the other voice from behind him, quietly finishing off the last stanza of the song. He blushed, embarrassed to have been caught playing the piano and singing.
"I didn't know anyone else knew that song," he offered, wanting to break the silence.
Vash nodded. "It's been around for a long time. I'm surprised you know it."
Alec smiled. "Yeah, I only know it because Frey did. She used to love to sing it."
Vash's face darkened. Alec didn't know about Frey yet. Deciding to wait to tell him, Vash turned to leave and continue milling through his thoughts. He paused at the door.
"Alec?"
"Yeah?"
"What's Frey's full name?"
Alec arched an eyebrow at the question, but answered without hesitation.
"Afreyla Rem Buskus," he said, barely suppressing a snort after saying the whole thing.
" . . . "
"Vash?"
Not only was her middle name Rem, but her last name was the same as that of the man Knives had killed all those years ago, the one that had been related Rem: Revnunt Buskus.
Oh Knives, Vash thought, what have you done?