CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Contentment

PART ONE…Boom …

Stepping into the middle of a valley, two heavily clad black figures approached the mountain face. One knelt, and the second sat beside, on the right. The second put gloved hands around the first's covered forearm. They sat still. Suddenly, a light burst forth and a high-pitched screech filled the sky.

Everyone watching paused in awe. There was a mass of boulders and pebbles where the mountain once stood.

The second black figure stood slowly, with the first dangling from his shoulder. They slowly made their way back from the vehicle from which they'd come. The vehicle sped back to the landing site and was lifted away.

Screens worldwide broadcast varying views of the event. Many broke into discussions of new technology, and the possibility that this was a new Agent Peace, or perhaps this time two new 'Agent Peace's had been chosen. Some religious stations dove into the old debate of how this technology was clearly blasphemous, while a few fringe networks praised the angelic power of this event.

Aside from the millions of arguing, praising, angry, relieved, joyous, and frightened voices, there was calm.

XXXX

Seated in a window in their spacious home, a mother and son stared off at the dust and rubble of the mountain two miles away.

The five-year-old son yawned. He fell back into his mother's large arms and smiled up into her face. "Mama, was that mountain a bad mountain?" he asked in German.

"No sugar, but he volunteered to help."

He thought. "So he got blowed up so the bad guys wouldn't hurt nobody no more?'

She smiled. Her boy was so smart. "That's right!"

"So, the Peace Lady only hurts the bad guys?"

She laughed. "The Peace Man, you mean…"

Hee sighed, shaking his head.

"The Peace MAN is good. He makes the bad guys be good," his mother explained.

"Thank you, Peace Lady," he called out, waving out the window before hopping down to find the dog.

XXXX

Vash wanted desperately to remove their helmets, but had to stick to protocol. "Baby bear?" he asked though their speakers.

"Thanks, daddy. Couldn't do it without you," she added, smiling. Without his help in forming the arm, and controlling it, that little display wouldn't have been possible. It'd been so intense; she was still awestruck. It hurt, but felt exhilarating all the same. "Man, I'm pooped."

Vash shifted to allow her to snuggle in next to him, awkward as the suits made this. He wrapped his arms about her and stared out the window, struggling his intense inner struggle. Worrying about his child and this world, he weighed philosophy against morality against duty. He felt the stress of the world upon his shoulders once more.

XXXX

Tessla stepped out of the hover lift, onto the roof with the high walls. This time around, it was a joyous event. A great mass of people (and though many members of the Agency were there, not nearly half could fit) were standing shoulder-to-shoulder, in silence. Slowly, they moved aside to allow a path for the two black figures to walk through.

As the mysterious two eased their way to the door, a man shouted, "Thank you!" A few more repeated this, and then the wave of celebration washed over the crowd. They applauded and cheered, smiling and laughing, hugging each other but daring not to touch the black figures.

Tessla smiled fiercely within her helmet, striding towards the door with a newfound energy. Inside, she was met with more thanks and praise, and rushed to a medical room. There, she and her father removed their helmets in silence.

Vash did not share her happiness. He was frowning, for certain. Once he met his daughter's eyes, he forced a smile, but it was too late. "Good job, baby bear," he softly praised. "You stopped it."

She furrowed her brow. "Sometimes we have to use questionable means to get the desired effect." Easing off her heavy, thick suit, she squinted as the ache hit her. "Isn't it possible that the angel arms are part blessing, part curse? Does it make any sense that we'd be born with these, but never ever use them for a good reason?"

"Maybe you're right," he murmured, slowly sliding off his gloves. His posture was terrible. Staring at his busted cast, he seemed deep in thought.

"This is why you shouldn't be the one to do it. But me, I think I actually WANT to do it. I feel like I'm helping, really helping. I mean, I can still invent, on the side. But with this I really see results! It's so hands-on, so intense. It's so purposeful."

"You sound like someone I once knew," Vash responded forebodingly.

"Who, Uncle Knives?" she asked, laughing. "But I don't hate the humans, daddy. And with training and proper precautions, her accidents won't happen to me. I know the risks, I know the hardships, and I want to take them. I'm awfully tired of pretending to be human, hiding my projects and selling them to others. Maybe being a plant is the best way for me to feel human. Does that make sense?" She smiled, trying to comfort him. "I want to do what's best for everyone."

He sighed miserably. "Now you sound like someone ELSE I once knew!"

She stuck out her tongue in disgust. "Am not! What'd SHE ever do for the good of the many? Get pregnant? Pssh."

"Tessla Rem Saverem, you know what happened; we told you. She sacrificed a lot to get those ships in the air," he explained, bothered a little by the memories.

"What a heroine she turned out to be." Sitting back into a plush chair, Tessla pulled on a sweater. "To my understanding, her list of sacrifices are as follows: Giving up her secret liar, coming on to Uncle a lot, leading him on some more – all the while coming on to you as well – then when Uncle found out he was being two-timed, he killed a bunch of people and kidnapped her. She sacrificed her eyes and face to get him to angel-arm-transfer memories and plans to her, but she didn't mean to get scarred up from it, so that doesn't count. Then, she drugged him and left him alone in a hospital – like the moron she is – only coming back after he killed a bunch more people. After that, her sacrifices were that she was pregnant and gave us money from her paintings. I am not her and if I say anything like she did, I assure you I mean something different."

"She's not a moron, she was trying to do what she thought was right," he tried to argue, half-heartedly. "Give her more credit than that. She's your MOTHER."

"Hardly! Don't call her that! And y'know, I always thought she did it less because it was right, and more because she felt guilty about how she lived before she met you. And I'll just bet her motivation had a lot to do with you – she did it to get YOU."

He drew his mouth tightly shut. "Tessla, I'm tired. Why don't you get some rest."