Sacrifice
Victor Van Heiring
A/N: First off—this is yet another idea stolen from my cousin Alexnandru Van Gordon. He originally started writing out this plot, but, while I brainstorm on 'Puppets', I decided to dig up his grave and re-make the story.
Summary: (AFTER THE ANIME!) Vash might be the better gunman, but that doesn't mean he won the ethnical battle against Knives. Knives would much rather die than give up his dream—and he'd be damned if Vash tries to defy him again…
Disclaimer (from chapters one and onward): I don't own Trigun or anything related to the subject.
CHAPTER ONE: Reunion
Sometimes he wondered why he did the things he did. Luck was rarely good when it came to dealing with his brother, and yet he persisted in chasing the genocidal maniac down before mankind ceased to exist. It wasn't like he could stay ahead of the game when it came to keeping his brother under his thumb. Ha! What a funny way of saying it. If anyone had anybody under their thumb, Knives was the master. It was just by sheer dumb luck that Vash somehow managed to shoot his brother down at the end of their battle, and it would be a miracle to keep him under control for long. Vash was incredibly intelligent, considering how intelligent humans were, but Knives could beat him at any time or place. While Vash dedicated his life toward the protection of God's beloved people and the peace he could obtain living among them, Knives devoted his life work to the torment and destruction of those same beings.
"Good grief, you're heavy." Vash muttered, shifting his brother's limp form over his stiff shoulder. He'd walked nearly the entire day and May was close in sight. Just a little further… "You're supposed to be the one made entirely of flesh and bones…"
He was tired, hungry, hot and sore, in a foul mood and still oblivious as to what he was going to do with Knives as soon his twin woke. Maybe he shouldn't have worn black under his coat? It was doing nothing to keep him cool and at the rate he was walking. But hey—that was the least of his problems. If he somehow made it to the city without fainting, there was still the matter of the people, the Insurance Girls and Knives. How on earth were they supposed to get together? How was Vash supposed to care for his brother without allowing him to hurt anyone?
The moment he could hold a gun, Knives was going to shoot someone.
Or would he? Was Knives really in any state to defy Vash? Surely Knives wouldn't let anyone aside from Vash tend to his wounds, and therefore he'd be dependant on him…right?
Maybe he should have left Knives in the desert. Perhaps he should have shot himself in the head, destroy the last of their humanoid kind from the face of the planet.
But then he had his Sisters to consider. It was the power of the other Plants which kept him moving. He could sense a small connection building up between them and their Sisters. Knew they were trying to supply them with energy long distance.
'You've got to stop.' He willed them mentally. 'I don't want Knives to heal I get my message through that thick skull of his.'
He felt a surge of uncomfortable warmth, a sign that they disagreed. Their message was weak, but he understood—they were more concerned with the health of their Brothers rather than the agendas of either Knives or Vash. Their Sisters were just there to maintain life—both that of the humans and the twins. But they knew the humans were abusing their steady supply of energy. They knew Knives was doing them good.
'You're so frustrating…'
No answer.
'You can't ignore me forever. Besides, you owe me…'
The next surge of warmth wasn't uncomfortable. Despite being hot, the warmth felt good.
They were trying to heal the twins again.
'I know you can hear me…'
They choose to ignore him.
Sighing to himself, he licked his lips and started up the next sand dune. The only solution he could think of was to not stay in a city—or anywhere civilization. He'd drop by Meryl and Millie, gather what supplies he needed…and find somewhere he could tend to Knives' wounds without triggering his hatred for mankind…
It wasn't much, but it'd have to do for now.
-Meryl-
Ever since Vash left, the only thing she found energy to do was sit in the kitchen somewhere near the window. A faint but refreshing breeze blew through the room and ruffled her bangs slightly, forcing her to open her eyes to the sunny scene outside. The town was busy again. Things seemed peaceful. She could relax.
What am I thinking? What about Vash?
What about him?
Well, for one thing, she promised herself she'd tell him how she truly felt about him the moment she saw him again—if ever. There were just too many things to consider. Had she seen the last of Vash the Stampede? Would he reject her? Would he be too occupied to deal with her?
And what could possibly occupy him now? Aside from getting into constant trouble, Vash doesn't do much of anything. It was harsh…but true. So long as someone kept him locked up in a dank dark room with nothing but bread and water to eat he was entirely harmless. Well, he always had been harmless—the thugs that he attracted where the ones you had to look out for. Maybe if he dyed his hair and ditched the jacket…
"Why do you have to do this to me?" She murmured. "Sometimes I wish I was never assigned to follow you. Maybe then I wouldn't have fallen in—"
"SEMPAI!"
To say she fell off her chair would be an understatement. She jumped so high she nearly fell out the window.
"Yes, Millie?" She asked, picking up the chair after having knocked it over. Millie was usually hard at work on the well and the irrigation plan and shouldn't have been home for another hour or so. This came as a great surprise to Meryl (seeing that Millie had the tendency of being tardy).
"Oh—this is great! A truck was driving into the city with more supplies and guess who they picked up on the way in?"
Her heart skipped a beat, but somehow she buried her excitement.
"Who?"
Millie looked incredulous. "You mean you don't know? I thought you'd be excited—"
"Millie, WHO?"
Millie giggled. "Vash, silly, and he's with this guy that looks an awful lot like him. You should see them—they've got the same face and everything—"
"Where are they going?"
"Oh." Millie paused to think. "Well, they were both found unconscious not too far from here. Someone took them to the small inn near the outskirts of town and called for the doctor. I thought I'd get you just in case you wanted to see—"
Vash? He was back so soon? She expected him to be gone for…well, she didn't actually know how long she expected him to be gone, but now she felt so stupid for getting worked up over such a short wait…
So long as he wasn't dead, she could care less. He was here and, as soon as he was conscious, she was going to tell him everything.
-Knives-
Pain. That was the only thing he could comprehend at the moment. It brought back bad memories, like the first time Vash shot him those many years ago before they went their separate ways. They drew their guns, took aim, and then…Then what? He vaguely recalled trying to blow Vash into a coma that would last him a decade before Vash pulled a cross from the ground. Yes…he was sure it was cross. He remembered seeing one in the files on the SEED ship. Then…more pain. There was a big gap in his memory before the vision of Vash shooting him again came to mind.
"He fainted from heat exhaustion. Start taking off that…suit. He's probably boiled alive in that thing."
Filthy spiders. Who are they talking about?
It took an incredible amount of energy to open his eyes and keep them open as he gazed up at the ceiling. Not able to see much, he willed his head to turn—which was quiet a miracle. Everything hurt. No—'hurt' couldn't describe it…
They were talking about Vash. The two brothers were in a medium sized room, each lying on a separate bed placed neatly side by side against the farthest wall from the door. With his brother to his left, he could see the door, and standing there, much to his disappointment were a few humans.
A man set his satchel down on the bedside between the two beds and began rummaging inside for something. Meanwhile, a small and petit woman was fiddling with Vash's suit, trying her hardest to figure out which buckles actually opened his black body-tight uniform.
How dare she touch him. Didn't she know how filthy she was? And how dare Vash allow such an inferior being touch him! Didn't he realize—
"Finally. It looks like he's waking up!" The woman exclaimed, watching as Vash moved his right arm. Lifting his head, he rested it on his forehead and forced his own eyes open.
"Look. The other one's awake too."
Great…now he'd have to deal them the hard way.
'In your dreams. If you kill them off, who do you think is going to remove those bullets before you get an infection.'
Sometimes he could really hate Vash. 'I'd much rather die.'
'Oh—but you won't. You'll just end up looking like me.'
Having dived into his brother's mind before, he knew the marks that were left on Vash's body. If only he'd give his Sisters the chance to help him heal properly…
'I can assure you, Vash, I've been able to heal myself in the past.'
'Not without the help of our Sisters.'
'I can still feel them.'
'It'll still take a while.'
'We still both possess self-curative abilities.'
'Still…'
Annoyed by his brother's lack of a better word, he mentally sighed and closed his eyes, trying to pretend that he never woke in the first place. He had plans to make…
'I can still hear you, you know.'
Good grief, he was annoying. 'Doesn't matter. You can't win against me with words alone.'
'Last time I checked, I won the gunfight. What makes you think you're going to destroy mankind unhindered?'
'What makes you think that wasn't just a stroke of dumb luck?'
Vash didn't answer, but Knives could feel Vash's emotions. Apparently, Vash had been thinking somewhere along the same lines…
'I can assure you, Vash. I'd much rather bleed to death than let one of those filthy beings touch me. I'll—' He was interrupted by the small prick of a needle in his left arm. Shocked, he opened his eyes rapidly and started straight up at the doctor.
"There you go." The man chirped. "Give it three more seconds and you'll be fast asleep. It'll help for the opera…"
Knives didn't hear the end of that sentence. His vision faded and his world came to a sudden halt as the sedative took its affect on him.
In the back of his mind, he could hear Vash laughing.
-Me-
That should be enough water for your whistle. I hope you enjoyed the little tale—I'll try to update again by next week (if not earlier) because Mid-terms start tomorrow…(blah)…
Signing out,
Victor Van Heiring