FINALLY! Someone actually cares about Alec! I was so sad when I wrote that part but no one else seemed to care. But Kenta Divina does, so it's all good.

Now, I want all of you out there that aren't reviewing to get your acts together! It's not that hard! This is one of your last chances! Not the last, but one of them. Take the opportunity while you still have it! That means you! Out of the 24 people that read my last chapter, only two reviewed! Come on, don't make me beg.

Disclaimer: I don't own Trigun or any of its characters.

LIVING MEMORIES

-A Trigun Story-

Chapter 18: Red Geraniums

"Forget it, Knives. It's over."

"On the contrary, dear brother. Don't be so foolish." The twins stood watching each other for a moment, Vash scowling and Knives still smiling.

"I'm afraid it's only just begun, Vash."

Knives slowly lifted his arm and snapped his fingers, the short click echoing in the intense silence. Even Aidan's crying had stopped. Vash watched numbly as the top of Frey's, or Knives', gun flew off again.

Frey watched helplessly as the gun raised seemingly of its own volition and pointed steadily at Vash, the metal beginning to seep up her arm and form what she now understood to be the angel arm.

She swore under her breath at the pain. "Knives, I hope you burn-"

"No, Frey! Don't do it!" It was Michael. Wolfwood grabbed him by the arm and started to pull him away from the blinding light.

"It's no use, son. Knives is too much stronger than her."

"So that's it? We're just going to stand here and watch as Vash and Frey probably die!"

Wolfwood shook his head, crestfallen. "I'm sorry, Michael. But there's nothing we can do. We have to trust Vash to come up with something now. Come on. We have to hurry and get Alec and Aidan out of here."

Michael glanced at Frey one last time, then reluctantly turned and followed his father toward the bleeding boy and crying girl next to him.

Frey watched them go with torn feelings. At least this way they would be safe, but they were still leaving her, again. She looked back at her arm, which by now was completely transformed. All they had to wait for was for it to gather enough energy to fire. She yelled in agony and frustration. Was there absolutely nothing she could do? Had Knives really won?

No, she told herself, there has to be a way to beat him. She racked her brain. The only thing she could think of was Michael's account of how Vash had first defeated Legato. Supposedly the Gung-Ho Gun had tried to make Vash use the angel arm for the third time in his life. But somehow Vash had overcome it. He had stopped the angel arm. That meant it was possible, but would it be for her? After all, she was still mostly human. Only her arm possessed the abilities of a plant. She wasn't immortal, and she aged normally. Could she handle something like this? It surely had been draining even on Vash. So was it sane for her to even try it?

She shook the doubt out of her head, making herself believe. She remained rational, however, knowing that the effort she was about to exert would kill her. Even if she had been a plant, she couldn't measure up to Vash. But it was worth it if she could save her friends. Besides, this way Vash's biggest threat would be out of the way. With her dead, Vash would have no problem defeating Knives and ending all of this.

Vash glanced over his shoulder and sighed in satisfaction at the sight of everyone else leaving. Then he turned back to his more impending problem. His eyes locked on Frey's face. Surprisingly, she didn't look afraid at all, and her expression was uncharacteristically calm and collected. She watched him with a melancholy smile, her eyes sad but showing no regret. Suddenly Vash realized her intentions. She was going to try to stop the angel arm herself, and the effort would probably destroy her.

Vash opened his mouth to protest, arguing that there was another way, but Frey's psychically spoken words cut him short.

Vash, take care of Knives. Don't worry, Vash.

Vash was instantly paralyzed. His mind flashed back to his last moments with Rem, as she had told he and Knives that she would be staying behind.

Vash, she had said, tears streaming down her cheeks, take care of Knives. The door to the pod had nearly closed by then. Don't worry, Vash.

True, Frey had had a very different meaning in the words, but nevertheless, Vash was suddenly a little boy again, thrust unsuspecting into his past. He felt a single tear of sorrow run down his cheek at the memory of losing the closest thing he had ever had to a mother.

He killed her. Knives killed Rem!

Yeah, the child version of Knives said in Vash's head, spectacular, huh? They all died. Vash remembered the demonic look on Knives' face as he had said those words as if it had happened yesterday. He had killed Rem without remorse, without any regret whatsoever. He was glad she had died! At first he had considered saving her for Vash's sake, he had said, but that didn't bring on feelings of guilt when he had ended up killing her anyway.

Now I see how imperfect she really was. It's a good thing she died.

Vash clenched his fists, looking down. Knives had killed her descendants, leaving only Frey behind for his own sick and twisted purposes.

Hey, Vash. Now everything that brought you and Rem together is gone.

The present Knives began to laugh as memories of his past words haunted Vash. "Why don't you defend yourself, Vash the Stampede? You knew all along that this girl was all that was left of Rem, didn't you?"

Vash just continued staring at Frey in fearful shock. Knives was right. He had known. But he hadn't expected facing her to be so difficult. After all, she wasn't really Rem. She was just a relative.

Vash's stomach twisted violently as it all came into perspective. Ever since he had figured out that Frey was related to Rem he had wondered why Knives hadn't killed her. He felt sick as he realized that Knives' only purpose in keeping her alive was for this very moment. Knives had known that his brother wouldn't be able to fight back against her. And he had given her the power of a plant for good measure.

Vash's eyes refocused and locked back on Frey's. She had the exact same look on her face, the slight smile that showed that she accepted the sacrifice she was required to make. She couldn't have looked any more like Rem in that moment. Slowly she closed her eyes, ready to admit death.

"REM! NO!"

Michael, Aidan, and Wolfwood looked up at Vash's scream, then cringed and dove to the ground as the blinding white light emanating from Frey amplified. All three covered their heads, and Alec in Aidan's case.

Vash was crying unrestrainedly by now. He held up his arms to shield himself from the light, knowing there was nothing he could do now.

Michael grimaced as he laid on the ground, murmuring to himself, "no Frey, no . . ."

He opened his eyes and looked in her direction, squinting.

Oh suck it up, you big baby.

His eyes widened. He could practically see her, smiling and winking at him. His heartbeat quickened.

"Frey?"

He didn't move as the brightness of the light reached its peak. It was deathly silent as the only thing visible to anyone was overwhelming whiteness.

It's not too late to start over.

"Rem?"

Vash opened his eyes and immediately pulled his glasses off. All he could see was billowing smoke around him. He heard a cough a short way from him. Then the smoke settled, and the scene of the disaster became clear to his eyes.

In front of him stood Knives, the one that was coughing. In front of Knives, on the ground, lay Frey's lifeless body, her dark hair spilling out over the sand, her head down. The sleeve on her right arm lay in shreds next to her. The Long Colt was still in her loose grip. Vash slipped his yellow lenses back over his nose and gripped his own gun tightly.

"That was low, Knives." He almost added, "even for you," but he knew that wasn't true. The Stampede didn't move as he felt Wolfwood and Michael come up on either side of him, guns loaded and at hand. Michael let out a short gasp at the sight of Frey's body, but other than that kept control of his emotions. He glared angrily at Knives.

"It's over, Knives. She beat it. She beat you." Vash's expression softened, though he didn't smile. "After all, she is related to Rem."

Knives didn't move, too awed to do anything. His entire plot had been ruined. Had he made the angel arm fire just a few moments sooner, he would have won. But his delay had cost him everything. However, his loss was nothing compared to the new hole opened in the lives of his enemies.

Wolfwood raised the Cross Punisher slowly and fired. Knives collapsed on the spot, gripping his shoulder fearfully, but said nothing. Michael walked forward and stopped just in front of him. His look plainly revealed his hatred for the man. Bending down, he rolled Frey to her back, then carefully gathered the breathless body in his arms, the Long Colt slipping from her fingers as he lifted her. He picked it up and pocketed it, not wanting Knives to be left with such a powerful weapon. Without a word, he turned back around and walked away. Vash and Wolfwood followed him to the car. All of them ignored the single shot heard from behind them.

Aidan sat next to the car. Alec's smeared blood was drying on her face, forming a stiff, dark red coating over her left cheek. Her brown eyes were half closed in weariness, dry and bloodshot. But she still clutched Alec's hand in her own, relieved that the color was returning to his face thanks to Wolfwood's actions. She looked up as the three approached, gasping as she saw Frey.

"It's over," Wolfwood said in answer to her questioning gaze. He sighed. "It's finally over." He glanced guiltily at Frey, then away, pushing on his black sunglasses.

Aidan stood and climbed into the car as Vash picked up Alec, laying him carefully in the back seat of the car and allowing his head to rest in her lap. Michael lovingly placed Frey on the floor next to him, barely able to wrench himself away from her. He climbed into the front seat next to his father and Vash, staring blankly at the desert. The priest watched his son carefully as Vash started the car, then placed a comforting hand on his shoulder as the boy bent over in angry sobs.

Meryl drifted into awareness as she heard the faint sound of an engine outside. She sat up and peeled a piece of paper off of her face, leaving various small black characters across one side of it. Rubbing her eyes and standing up from her desk, she walked to the window and pushed the curtains aside. Immediately she screamed.

"Milly!"

Milly Thompson bounded down the stairs. "What is it, Meryl?"

"They're back, Milly, they're back!" The two women rushed out the door and down the stairs, reaching the car at about the same time Sloan and Carly did. Meryl ran straight to Vash, throwing her arms around him. She was surprised to see that he was still wearing his yellow glasses.

His response was warm, but quiet and unlike him. "Hello, Meryl."

She pulled back, examining his face. "Vash, what's wrong?" He didn't answer. She looked around him to watch the rest of the group.

Wolfwood sighed deeply as he took Milly in his arms, closing his eyes. Aidan had removed herself carefully from the car, and promptly burst into tears as she hugged her father. Meryl's eyes widened as the redhead pulled away and moved to her mother. Her face was covered in dried blood.

Michael hadn't moved from the car. He just sat in the front seat, a black jacket pulled tightly around him, staring down the road and acknowledging none of them. It was then that Meryl noticed that two were missing. She looked up at Vash, her eyes wide with confusion. He took her by the shoulders and gently pushed her towards the back seat of the car. Carly, Sloan, and Milly looked as well.

On the back seat was Alec, sleeping peacefully. But the stains leaking through the bandages over his stomach were unmistakable. Wolfwood squeezed Milly's hand.

"Knives shot him," he explained quietly. Carly clapped a hand to her mouth, then let the arm drop and pulled Aidan closer to her, understanding her mourning. "He'll make it, though, with time to heal," Wolfwood added. He looked to the floor next to Alec. Everyone else's eyes followed his.

Meryl gasped, and noticed out of the corner of her eye that Michael's head dropped. The outline of a body was clearly discernable from beneath a gray blanket. She leaned against Vash for support.

"Frey?" she asked hoarsely, tears springing to her eyes. Vash nodded silently. Aidan burst into tears again, and Carly buried her head in Sloan's shoulder, who just watched in disbelief. Milly released herself from Wolfwood's grasp and let herself into the car, where she hugged her son and allowed him to cry against her. She softly stroked his coal black hair, feeling her own eyes start to water.

"I'm sorry, Michael. I'm so sorry."

"I couldn't help her, Mom. I couldn't do anything to save her."

"It's okay, Michael. It's not your fault."

"But it is, Mom. It is."