Okay, here's chapter sixteen. As always, thanks to my reviewers. Sorry Blu-chan, but I'd already written this when you made your request for more MW, so I don't think there is any. Actually, I've already written the rest of the story. There you go guys! There's the big secret to my quick updates! I'd written the entire story before I even started posting it! I tried hack writing the first time, and I hated it, so I decided to take this approach. And with all the planning, rewriting (I think I have at least four different versions of this on my hard drive) and revisions, it took me a good ten months.Alright, I'm going to catch some z's now. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: As always, I don't, never have, and never will own Trigun.

LIVING MEMORIES

-A Trigun Story-

Chapter 16: Facing Reality

"Alright buddy, your time is up." Michael looked up sharply. The sheriff backed up a step, reconsidering his decision to let Michael go. But the unmistakable bulge in his jacket brought his conscience back. Silently he unlocked Michael's cell and left the door open, leaving the room. Michael watched it blankly for a few moments, then jumped to his feet and bolted out the door, grabbing his pistol as he went.

First he ran to the hotel where they had all been staying. It had been spared in the disaster, but not surprisingly, it had been abandoned. Next Michael ran toward the outskirts of town. He couldn't think of any other place where everyone might be waiting for him. Sure enough, two cars and a motorcycle sat just outside town, his family and friends sitting in them. Milly saw him first. She jumped to her feet and reached him in a few seconds. Immediately she set to examining her son for any injuries.

"Oh Michael, where have you been?" she exclaimed. Michael remained silent, allowing her to wipe his face with her sleeve and brush his rebellious hair from his eyes.

"Where's Frey?" It was Wolfwood. Unlike Milly, he had moved past his son's safety and cut right to the chase. Still Michael said nothing, but dropped his eyes.

Meryl spoke next. "They told us what happened, Michael. I'm sorry."

She was referring to Frey's use of the angel arm. Michael just shook his head, larger concerns looming in his mind. "That's not important now," he finally said. "Listen, I was arrested for knowing Vash, since everyone is assuming that he's the one that did it." Suddenly he noticed Vash's swollen face, and realized that he had probably already been blamed and punished for the incident. "Frey came and bailed me out of jail," he continued coldly, "but-"

"So you saw Frey?" It was Carly.

He glanced at her, then back down. "Yeah, but she made the jailer wait an hour before releasing me so I wouldn't follow her."

"Why wouldn't she want you to follow her?" Aidan asked.

Wolfwood answered so Michael didn't have to. "Because she was going with Legato."

Michael looked up in surprise. Then his expression grew malignant. "That's right. You knew all along, didn't you? I can't believe you knew about her past all along and you didn't tell me!"

His bright blue eyes were filled with steely spite. Wolfwood's, too, grew cold, though not in anger. "She needed to tell you on her own, Michael." He paused. "I'm assuming she did."

"Yeah."

"Look, all I know, and all I told them," he motioned with his head towards everyone else, "is that she somehow had connections with Knives and Legato and in return for my revival was joining them, though against her will. That's all I know."

"Since that bit of information is so insignificant," he muttered sarcastically. Wolfwood lit a cigarette indifferently.

"So they know?" he asked, moving on, "about Knives and Vash, and the angel arm, and the plants?"

Vash nodded. "Yes, we told them everything."

Michael took a deep breath. "Look, the whole truth is, when Frey was just twelve, Knives killed her parents and kidnapped her. Then he gave her this fake arm with plant powers that gave her her abilities, much like your arm gave Legato his powers, Vash." Aidan groaned quietly. She, along with her parents and Alec, looked exhausted from the pure deluge of information they had been given. Michael ignored them and continued.

"When she was thirteen, she ran away from them. You know the rest, Alec. After wandering around in the desert for awhile, a bus driver found her unconscious and picked her up. Then he took her to his brother, a doctor. That doctor was Alec's grandfather, and he's raised her ever since."

Aidan spoke up. "But why? Why would-" she wrinkled her nose at his name, "Knives do such a horrible thing to a girl?"

Vash looked at her sadly, then answered. "Knives doesn't need a reason, Aidan."

". . . give me the donut . . . Vash the Stampe . . . BANG!"

Alec jolted awake at the noise. He turned to look at the sleeping figure that had made it. Vash was laying in the front seat of the car, one hand in mid-air and pointer finger extended, like a gun. Alec shook his head and rolled over in the back seat, clenching his eyes shut and trying to tune out the dream-created prattle of the gunman.

After a few more minutes he gave up, and instead focused on watching the stars. He glanced at the other car, and immediately noticed that Aidan was no longer in her previous position. He sat up, scanning the area for her. The only trace of the redhead, though, was a trail of footprints in the sand. They led to the nearest sand dune. Then he spotted her. She was a speck on the horizon, sitting atop the crest of the mountain of sand.

He reached her quickly, but held himself back for a few moments, watching her. Her knees were pulled to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. Her long red hair had been taken out of its usual braid, and spilled unrestrained down her back and across the desert floor. She had buried her face in her knees, and Alec soon realized that what he had thought were shivers were really racking sobs.

Quietly he sat down next to her and put an arm around her shoulders, again watching the sky. Her weeping immediately halted in her surprise, but other than that she didn't react. Soon she relaxed against him, however, welcoming his comfort.

Alec didn't have to ask what was wrong. "I want to go home . . ." she whispered. He just continued to hold her.

"I know, I know," he murmured softly.

Aidan lifted her arm and wiped her tears away. Then she looked up at Alec.

"So what now? What about Frey?"

"We go after her, what else?" he answered, grinning. Aidan answered with a soft smile of her own, then faced forward and laid her head on his shoulder, watching the bright stars with him. Neither noticed the dark figure of Sloan watching them from a slight distance.

Carly opened her eyes halfway as she heard Sloan climbing back into the car.

"Hey hon, whatcha doin'?" she asked groggily.

"Oh, nothing."

Carly just rolled over on her side and started to drift off again. Sloan sighed deeply as he laid down, putting his hands up behind his head and staring up.

"You know what, honey?"

"What, dear?" she murmured.

"Alec really isn't that bad, is he?"

At that Carly's eyes flew open. She smiled, wide awake now.

"No Sloan, he isn't."

Frey stumbled as she was shoved roughly into a dank room. A thick metal door closed behind her, and a pair of footsteps disappeared down the hall. She sighed as her eyes adjusted to the dark. The room was small, with nothing but a diminutive bed in the corner. The only light spilled through the small window in the door.

Silently Frey pulled off the calvary cap she still wore and threw it aside. She also removed her boots, leaving her feet vulnerable expect for her socks. She huddled into the corner on her bed, pulling her jacket tighter around her to fend off the permeating chill. Quietly she grasped the chain at her neck and pulled out Michael's silver ring. She slowly slid her fingers across the shiny silver, tarnishing the bright gleam.

"You know, you really should stop pitying yourself."

Frey jumped and shoved the ring back into her shirt. She looked up. The darkly clad figure that had been there on the day Wolfwood had been revived stood outside her cell. She still couldn't see his face from the depths of his hood.

"Who are you?"

"Moratus the Necromancer," he replied, bowing deeply, "one of your many new comrades." Frey looked away stubbornly, refusing to accept what he was saying. She wouldn't consider herself an ally of such a man.

Moratus sighed, turning to face away from her and leaning against the door, so he was out of her view.

"Don't you get it?" he asked. "You're better off here than anywhere else. You're just like all of the rest of us."

"How so?"

"You're familiar with Rai-dei the blade, aren't you? In his words, we are merely dark diabolical puppets. We are demons."

"I'm not like you."

"Are you human?"

Frey fell silent, glaring at the floor. The Gung-Ho Gun stood and looked at her through the window again.

"At least your powers will go to good use here."

She shifted her venomous gaze to him. "You call killing people useful?" she hissed. Even though she couldn't see through to his face, she could sense his lips curl in a sadistic smile.

"Only a little." He disappeared in a black wisp of smoke.

Frey leaned back against the wall, head up, and closed her eyes. She sighed deeply, and felt something hidden in her jacket as she did so. She reached into it and pulled out her old gray glasses.

I love you.

Michael's words echoed in her head as if he was standing next to her. Suddenly waves of guilt poured over her for what she had done to him. It had been her only choice, but the look on his face as she had left him in that prison had nearly broken her. No, he had broken her. He was the only one that had caused tears to come to her eyes since her parents had died.

She looked at the small barred window in the door to her asylum. It looked like it would be just big enough for her to fit through, if the bars were gone.

"I'm not going to do this. I'm not going to sit here and wait while Knives plots who knows what." She stood, suddenly renewed and determined enough to confront the devil himself.

She closed her eyes and cleared her mind, focusing everything on the three metal bars. A slight smile graced her lips as they began to fall, one by one, and clattered on the floor. She opened her eyes again, with small beads of sweat on her forehead being the only sign of her effort. She reached out and heaved herself through.

She had no idea where she was going. She just navigated the various hallways at a sprint, feeling the anxiety growing within her as she planned out her coming conversation with Knives.

There was a door at the end of the hallway. A thin line of light appeared from beneath it. Frey extended a hand to open it, but stopped short.

"Ah Frey, haven't you learned yet? You can't escape, no matter how hard you try. Besides, what would you have done? Where could you have gone?"

Frey turned to face Knives' icy blue eyes, everything she had planned thus far suddenly dissipating. She spit on the floor in front of him.

"I wasn't trying to escape, Knives. But I could have if I really wanted to. I did it five years ago, I can do it again."

Knives smiled patronizingly and shook his head. "Are you that naive, Frey? You never escaped. The very doctor you came to know and trust is one of the most loyal Gung-Ho Guns."

"You're lying."

"Am I?"

Frey looked at his eyes, trying to penetrate his barrier of prevarication. But there was no hidden motive in his words. His gaze revealed the fact that he spoke the truth. Her body suddenly was overcome with a cold feeling of fear, as if the very blood flowing through her veins had frozen.

"My entire life with him is a lie?"

"Yes."

"And Alec?" she asked weakly.

"The doctor sent him after you to keep an eye on you."

"Then . . ." she murmured, terror taking hold of her mind, "Alec is a . . ."

"No, he's not a Gung-Ho Gun. It's a shame, too. He has amazing skills. But he's just as ignorant as you were about the whole situation. And he'll die, along with the rest of them."

Frey didn't know whether to feel relieved that Alec hadn't betrayed her of infuriated with Knives for threatening to kill him. She just fell back a step, one hand held to her mouth in shock.

"It can't be . . . no! You're lying! The doctor would never-"

She was cut off as Knives produced something small and red in his left hand. She took a better look. It was the match to the earring in her ear, the small red flower.

"How did you get this?" she asked in a daze.

"The doctor."

Frey collapsed to a sitting position on the floor, staring at the ground and shaking her head in wide-eyed disbelief.

"Don't you see, Frey? I've had complete control over your life since the day you left me. I had your precious doctor send you to Tonim Town at the same time the Wolfwood boy was there. I paid the mob that chased and shot both of you. I also made the sand steamer crew kick you off in December, the boy's home town. And there you met Vash. I must admit, the doctor's foolish grandson almost thwarted my plans when he ran off and tried to take you back to September before he was supposed to. But thanks to that calvary man, the two of you ended up right back where you started. I allowed word of me to leak out, luring my idealistic brother out of his safe haven of the past twenty years. I brought back Nicholas D. Wolfwood for you, so that Vash would trust you. I made you use the angel arm to destroy half of your town when you disobeyed me. I warned the doctor about it, too. That's why he wasn't in September when you arrived. And now I've brought you here." He paused, allowing it all to sink in. Frey continued staring at the floor, overwhelmed, then glanced sadly up at him.

"Why?"

"Why? What kind of question is that?"

"Why me, Knives? Why did you kill my parents? Why do you hate my family? Why did you kidnap me and turn me into some kind of non-human freak of nature!"

He smiled, amused. "Because, Frey. You're the only one that can destroy him. You're the only one that can make my brother truly suffer."

Frey laughed in spite of herself. "That's impossible. I'd never be able to defeat Vash, even if I wanted to."

Knives shook his head. "All we have to do is wait for him to come play hero, and then you will. You'll kill all of them, one by one, saving Vash for last." His eyes gleamed demonically, as if he was gaining pleasure from the thought.

Tell me, will you fight alongside Knives when Vash and I come to defeat him?

Frey's eyes narrowed. Those words, spoken by Wolfwood, had been the ones to convince her to stay with them. And yet here she was.

"I won't kill them, Knives. I don't care what you do to me, I'm not going to touch them."

He smiled again, like a patient parent trying to explain some high-minded concept to a simple child. "You're forgetting a few very important things, Frey. One," he said, extending one finger on his left hand, "you have the power of the angel arm. Two, I control that power, and can summon it whether you want me to or not."

"But so do you, Knives! I don't understand why you're getting me to do your dirty work. I can't beat him!"

"Which brings me to my third point. You, Frey, are the single survivor of the woman he once loved. He can't exactly fight back."

A picture of Meryl flashed in Frey's mind. "The woman he once loved?"

"Rem Saverem," he said with utter distaste.

The name was instantly familiar to Frey. Rem had been an ancestor of her grandfather, and therefore her father and her as well. She was the one Frey had gained her middle name from. And she was the reason Knives had killed her grandfather and parents.

"That's right," she muttered, remembering. "You killed my grandfather because he was related to her, and then my parents. But why? Why do you hate her so much? And what does she have to do with Vash? Who is she!"

"She was the closest thing the two of us ever had to a mother."

Frey knew that Knives was referring to Vash as he said "the two of us." So their love had been like a mother-child relationship. She gulped, almost afraid to ask what had happened to her.

"I guess I should thank her. After all, if not for her, Vash and I never would have survived. She was one of the ones on the ships that brought the human race here. She saved us from the rest of the crew when they wanted to kill us after finding us on the ship. But she was too kind and trusting for her own good. She filled Vash's head with ridiculous ideas of what she called virtue and honor. And she received the same fate that every weak, frail human being on this cursed planet deserves. I killed her."

Frey glared at the plant standing in front of her with pure enmity. "How?" she cried. "How could you do such a low and heartless thing to an innocent person?"

"Don't preach to me, girl."

"But how could you do such a horrible thing to your own brother? She meant so much to him . . ."

"Don't pretend you know anything about families. You don't have one." He turned to leave, but paused. "You should thank me for it, too. Just look at all of the trouble Vash has caused me."

Frey watched blankly as he disappeared down the hall. She slammed her fist against the wall in anger, then sighed and dropped her head in defeat.

He's using me because I'm the only weapon Vash can't beat. He can't defeat Rem.