CHAPTER FIVE: COUNTERFEIT SMILES (cont3)

Knives looked to the East, where he could faintly hear the howl of desert winds. They seemed to approach the cave, having been a mere whisper hours before.

Eager to allow his mind to become distracted, Knives stared off into the storm. Thoughts of his weakness around Vanessa and apologies towards Vash caused his mind great anguish, and he preferred to concentrate on the neutral winds than on human-like emotions.

After much time had passed, Knives was startled to attention when his stomach growled. He abruptly stood and walked into the cave, but instead of Vanessa and a tray of sushi, he found his brother.

Vash was sitting cross-legged before an odd pile of books. The stack was shaped like a house. Slowly, Vash held an open book faced-down over the pile, carefully applying a 'roof.' Upon his brother's entrance, he glanced up, his hands and the book hovering questioningly over the pile.

"Have you seen Vanessa? I'm starving," Knives asked him, eyes darting over the cave walls.

"Not for a while," Vash answered, wincing. He expected Knives' hand to topple the literary tower. Yet it did not.

Vash opened his eyes to see Knives leaving the cave, and sighed with relief.

Just outside the cave, Vanessa met Knives. She carried a red bundle under her arm, and the sewing basket dangled from her hand. Her hair whipped about her head, and her eyes were narrowed from the sting of the wind.

"Go back inside," she told him, walking past him to enter the cave.

Knives obeyed, but once inside his fists rested on his hips angrily. "What's going on? Where's dinner?"

Vanessa sat, letting her basket and bundle fall to her side. "The sandstorm should hit us full on tonight."

"Sandstorm!?" Vash repeated, lifting his head in concern. He began to rise. "The tomas – we've got to get them inside…" The pile of books toppled.

Vanessa glanced at the doorway, shaking her head.

"No, they can't fit through the passageway, huh?" he answered for himself. He knelt to gather the books more neatly. "I'll have to let them loose. What else needs to be done?" he asked.

"That's all, we'll be safe in here," she replied. Turning to Knives, who was standing at the entrance still, she added sweetly, "Could you free them, please?"

Crossing his arms, he turned casually to do so.

Before Knives returned, Vanessa unfolded the red bundle and held out the coat to Vash. She had repaired the sleeve and mended several bullet holes.

Accepting the coat, he didn't raise his eyes to speak to her. "Why would I need this?" he whispered. "This is nothing but bad memories now…"

She shook her head. "It's a good coat, Vash. The best I've seen, for desert travel, and such a lightweight cloth. You'll need it. All your other clothes are beginning to stain and wear. Try it on; let me see if I fixed it correctly, please?"

His hand went to his throat, where he realized he was wearing his old, black, leather vest beneath the white, button-up shirt already. The extensive scarring at his chest, abdomen, and back hurt him daily, so this tight, leather shirt kept the pain to a minimum. Vash took off the white shirt and grasped his mended coat. There he sat, in jeans and black leather; a scarred man staring at the weary coat he had worn through his most horrible adventures. He sighed aloud.

"You need to put all that out of your mind. There are so many things you'll have to forget," she muttered. "Once you do, you can wear this through happy times."

Vash pulled the coat about him. "What happy times?" he mumbled sadly, fastening the buttons.

"Vash, if you show that long face around Vanessa too much you may depress her!" Knives chuckled, sitting beside her. Then he frowned. "Why are you wearing THAT?"

Tugging the coat flat at his waist, Vash looked at Knives in the corner of his eye. "Vanessa repaired it; she says I need it."

Vanessa nodded. "He will when he goes back to the humans," she explained.

"The humans? I won't…" Knives began to argue.

"They're what he needs," Vanessa interrupted. "You sell their usefulness short, darling. Amongst them are true craftsmen and talent. They can create the finest meals, clothing, haircuts, which we could all use by now, and…"

"Hey, don't I have a say in this?" Vash interrupted, ignored.

"Everything they can do, we can do better a thousand-fold! Besides, all they've given Vash is scars and pain," Knives continued.

"We cannot perform the skills of the human population, I.Q. or no," Vanessa argued. "You should experience it all for yourself before you make these claims. Unless Vash is completely insane, there must be redeeming qualities to them. Right?"

Vash smiled at this comment in spite of himself, but Vanessa and Knives were looking at each other and failed to notice.

"Regardless, I cannot allow him to wander, defenseless, into their cruel arms again," Knives stated, his face betraying a sincere caring for his brother.

"I'm good with my gun; I'm not really defenseless," Vash added, again feeling that no one heard him.

"You should accompany him, then, and see how he fends," Vanessa boldly suggested. "Before the humans leave for good, taste their food and get a decent haircut and sleep in an actual room. Let's live amongst them as Vash loves to do; it's not as bad as you think. And we'll be together. Protected."

Knives reached out to gently brush Vanessa's hair from her eyes. "But we're safe and happy here!"

Vanessa forced a smile. "We're happy. But Vash is suffering. And we're in terrible need for supplies. Soon we'll run out of rice and your clothing will wear to rags." She awkwardly ran her hand through Knives' scraggly hair. "You're looking like such a vagabond as it is, and I give horrible haircuts." She grinned wider.

Knives didn't reply quickly, so she continued.

"I can earn a nice wage as a nurse, and Vash can take a job; with money we can be well-received by the humans, you'll see. Just hold in your disgust, and keep them from fearing you, and we'll have a pleasant excursion," she added. Her voice suddenly took a more somber tone. "We can't use our angel weapons, since the hair darkening effect has become a major concern, so it would be best to let Vash do the protecting, with that gun of his."

Knives snorted slightly. "How primitive. But I suppose you have some good points…"

Vanessa clapped her hands happily. "We can leave within the week! The sand should be calm for the next days, so we'll have an easier trek through the desert."

"To see you so happy," Knives commented, smiling at her as he pulled her closer to him.

She resisted slightly, and found herself leaning back against him, his arms wrapped about her shoulders. She looked nervously to the floor before glancing up to Vash.

'She looks so haunted,' Vash thought, keeping a smile upon his face. 'Yet she seems to know exactly what she's doing; talking him into this was almost too easy!' He remembered the weight of her body when she had leaned against him, kissing him. His eyes went instead to the stack of books beside him, and then to the ripped flaps of his coat, which he played with childishly. It hurt him to watch his brother hold her in a manner she despised. He wondered if she would rather he be in Knives' place now. Perhaps she would truly enjoy being with Vash. Obviously she preferred him to his brother, but was the feeling more passionate than that?

Vash felt so utterly useless once more, unable to act in fear of the lives of all inhabitants of Gunsmoke. He yearned to take control of the situation, at least enough to wrest Vanessa from his brother. Riding on expectations of Knives' future actions was too precarious.

His hand rested at his hip, where his gun lay in the holster. He imagined himself taking Knives into the desert and shooting him dead. All problems would be solved then.

'No,' Vash insisted to himself, shaking the image from his mind. 'But I will practice with it, like I used to. I'll need to be as good a shot as anyone, or else Knives may kill someone…'

Vanessa closed her eyes and meditated to calm her mind.

They listened to the evil howling winds beat against the cave as they slept, thinking of humanity in three separate and individual ways.

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