CHAPTER SEVEN: BROTHERS UNAWARE (cont3)

     The cold blanket of night had fallen upon the desert for many hours before they rested.  In the dip of small sand dunes, Knives pitched a tent.  Vanessa would've helped, but her arm was broken.

     The night before, Knives had awakened with a start in the wee hours of morning.  'Vash!' he had thought immediately, realizing that the sharp perception that hit his mind was an indication from his brother.  Such a phenomenon was mutual between the twins, yet not frequent.  Knives had felt such an instantaneous connection to his brother over greater distances before, as had Vash from Knives, usually in response to a great physical or emotional stimuli, or upon the use of an angel arm.  But his left forearm didn't tingle as it had when he had sensed Vash's angel arm output in the past, so…

     Vanessa's bed had been empty.  In the light of the five moons, he could see this plainly.  At first he feared that she may be in danger, but her hairpins, scarf, and cloak were all present, proving that she was surely not far from here.

     When she finally tiptoed soundlessly into the dark room, making her way carefully to her bed, she failed to notice that Knives' bed was empty.

     The light came on suddenly, and her skin paled as she saw that he was blocking the door.  Calmly, she turned away, drawing back the bedcovers.   Muscles tensed as she heard his footsteps near her.

     "Must you sleep with the book?" he asked softly.  "It must hurt to lay on…"

     "I'm used to it," she replied.

     "Give it to me," he commanded, his voice still gentle and quiet.

     Vanessa gripped the book tightly but did not pivot to greet him.  "It's private.  I don't see why…"

     "Now," he demanded.

     "You've seen it before.  I'm going to sleep…"

     He gripped her right wrist and held it between her shoulder blades.  In a flash of energy, Vanessa's belt was slashed; it and the book slid from her hips.  Knives caught it and released her, standing aside as he began to flip through the pages.  His angel arm remained active, blades and feathers stretching about her dangerously. 

     Vanessa had no choice but to stand as still as she could, and couldn't scream, lest humans burst in and be slaughtered ferociously.  She could only glance over her shoulder, watching as Knives pored over each page.  Mind racing, she attempted to speak to him.  "You shouldn't be so careless – your hair could darken terribly from this," she called to him.

     Knives sniggered softly, eyes glued to the markings he stared upon.  "You shouldn't be so presumptuous.  I've got plenty of energy to spare before it blackens completely."  After all pages had been glanced upon, he huffed in temporary disappointment and dropped the book into the metal trash bin at his foot.  He knelt, maintaining his blades' position perfectly, and opened the bottle beside the trash bin.  Every drop of alcohol fell to saturate the yellowed pages.  As the lit match fell, he heard a gasp escape her lips.  "I had hoped some of them would be useful, but…" he noted before cocking his head to face her.  "Get your cloak and the lightest pack.  We're leaving," he commanded, gesturing to the backpacks in the corner.  Everything was prepared for a long journey, no detail overlooked.  The canteens were full, and still cold with fresh water.

     Vanessa nodded obediently as she watched each blade retract into his arm.  Gradually, she moved to her pack and slung it over her caped shoulders.  She stood slowly, adjusting the straps as Knives sat to pull on his own, legs out before him.  Once Knives worked halfway into his backpack, she took advantage of the moment, dashing for the door.

     The rug shifted suddenly beneath her, and she fell onto her right arm painfully.  He had pulled the rug from her with his foot, and remained calm as he stood to help her up.

      "But…Vash…We're leaving him here?" she asked, hugging her arm as she was pulled to her feet.

      "We're going, silently, and I will NOT tolerate anything more from you," he responded, tugging her cloak around her to hide her arms.  "You are going to put on your best poker face and step into the night with me, because you can imagine what I will do to the retched inhabitants of this place if you disobey."

     Vanessa nodded, and did as told, breathing not a word as they passed a yawning desk worker.  But on the street, she broke the stillness.  "My arm is broken, I'm sure of it," she whispered.  "I can't heal it myself.  I need a doctor, Knives."

     Knives shook his head.  "You'll instruct me and I'll do what you cannot," he replied calmly.  "But it'll have to wait until I find a campsite.  Do as told and bite your tongue."

     Frowning, she bowed her head and attempted to guess their intended direction of travel.  But though they left through the same street they had initially entered from, he headed too far an angle from the cave.  His movements betrayed no clue of a set destination.

     After traveling all day, Vanessa was eager to tend to her arm, which was throbbing painfully.  She watched Knives strike up a small campfire and dropped her cloak to the sand around her.  Gingerly, she pulled her dress from her shoulder and eased the sleeve as far down her arm as possible without the fabric falling from her chest.  Next, she gritted her teeth and pulled her broken limb from the remaining sleeve and laid it limp into her lap.

     The skin was gray and swollen.  He observed her effort as she pressed her fingers into the skin of her upper arm.  She had fractured it; it would have to be set and splinted.  "You have to pull and align it," she told him.

     Knives sat beside the arm, wincing as he felt the fever of the tender skin.  She guided his fingers along the skin, explaining what was to be done in detail.  He took her arm in a firm grasp and tugged the two sides of the fracture and attempted to ease them together correctly.

     She held in a scream with teeth bared as he worked.  Finished, she felt the arm, and shook her head.  "Try again," she whispered breathlessly.

     The deed eventually accomplished, Knives used a tiny output of angel arm blades to chop and whittle a splint.  Torn strips from the hem of his cloak served to wrap the splint to her flesh.  As she attempted to relax her mind and heart, he studied her eyes, forcing her to silently reveal something to him.

     Nothing was found here except pain and confusion, much the same as she saw in his.  She wondered what he knew – of the book, of that night – anything to explain why they had so abruptly fled.  He seemed to know the book better than she had given credit for, and his comment on its uselessness didn't explain how much of its function he understood.  But it was gone, and as her primary weapon against him, she was helpless.  And he had given no clue of what he knew about herself and Vash.  Did he know that he had been tricked into the drunken stupor?  How could he have been awake so soon, and what of the preceding encounter was he responding to, if anything?  She was still alive, perhaps a sign that he still preferred her to be relatively unharmed.  Separation from Vash could mean so many things, from mistrust to anger.

     "Remember that night, when you agreed to bear our offspring?" he murmured gently.

     She nodded slightly.

      "Was I wrong to take that as a solemn promise?"

     After a moment's hesitation, she shook her head subtly.

     "You'll keep that promise on MY terms now."  Knives prepared to stand, but retained his gaze.  "Get some rest, and don't make any motions unless I approve of them first.  You'll be sleeping beside me from now on, where I can keep better track of you," he demanded, pointing to the blanket laid out beside her.

     Feeling faint with dread, she lay in his arms.  The warmth kept her safe from frigid desert winds, and he made no moves to violate her, so she fell into a fatigued sleep.

     Simultaneously, Vash's forehead was pressed against the glass of a bus.  He gazed into the vast desert as though he might suddenly catch sight of two figures.  No one could be seen, and he frowned as he realized that he would soon take on the near-impossible task of tracking down his brother.  But first he had to travel to less probable locations.

     With still no conclusion as to whether or not he should actually attempt to follow Vanessa and Knives, and being no closer to ascertaining the exact reason of the departure, he chose to visit two abandoned friends. 

     "Meryl's gonna kill me if I tell her…" he muttered to himself.  "Aw, she'd kill me if she knew about HALF the stuff that's happened…"

NEXT SECTION:  http://hometown.aol.com/artchick12/hisrules1.html

HOMEPAGE:  http://hometown.aol.com/artchick12/myhomepage/index.html