Disclaimer: How I wish I owned Trigun. Sadly, I own it not.
A/N: Ok, people. I present to you all Chapter 30 (Only 5 more to go! XD) AND a WARNING. This chapter contains much fluff so if fluff makes you want to pluck out your eyeballs and scrub them with sulfuric acid, then skip to the last ¼ of the chapter, which is a fluff-free zone. Anyway, on with the show!
Wistful
"Ow!"
Vash stuck his finger in his mouth and sucked petulantly on it, trying to sooth the burned appendage. He scowled at the pot on the stove, the soup inside bubbling merrily. However, Vash realized now that he should have been paying more attention to the soup instead of staring off into space. While reaching absentmindedly for the spoon to stir the soup, he had accidentally touched the side of the pot, burning his finger.
When the pain subsided to a more dull sensation, Vash withdrew his finger, noting the whitish area on it. That would probably get puss under it later and pop. He grimaced, not really in the mood to deal with something like this. So, in the hopes of alleviating his poor appendage, he stuck it underneath the faucet and let cold water run over it.
He stood there for a few minutes before shutting the water off again and drying his finger gently on a towel. Vash smiled mildly, a touch of nostalgia in his expression. Over the years, he had acquired many "injuries" of this nature while trying to teach himself how to cook. Of course, he had botched so many attempts at making anything edible that he could only call himself a "cook" in the loosest sense of the word.
At least I never undercook things…
Wiping his hands on his pants, Vash returned his attention to the soup he had made, which was still simmering, the hot steam rising. Fanning the steam away with one hand, Vash turned the heat off before sticking the wooden spoon inside the pot and stirring.
He stared at the brew nervously. This was the first time he had attempted something like this. Well, actually he had, and the whole thing had been an unmitigated disaster. Doc had forgiven him for the mess, but still…
It was NOT my fault that the pot exploded… Vash groused. …Was it?
Vash shook his head. That did not matter right now. With that thought, he grasped the handles of the pot and carefully lifted it off of the burner and set it down on a non-active one. Wiping his brow, Vash mixed the soup a bit more before gingerly tasting some of it. His expression brightened.
I didn't mess it up!
Pleased with his handiwork, Vash grabbed two bowls from the nearby pantry and a ladle from a drawer before proceeding to pour the piping hot soup into them. Sniffing his masterpiece appreciatively, Vash snatched two spoons from the same drawer and a tray from the counter. Setting everything on the tray, Vash picked it up cautiously, not wanting to spill his load, before making his way to the door.
The door slid open suddenly, and Vash stopped, face to face with Knives. The two of them stared at each other for a moment, and Vash shifted his weight from one foot to the other, feeling uneasy. Knives's lips curled slightly before he brushed past his brother. Vash breathed out, silently relieved.
"Becoming a housewife, are you, brother?"
Vash stiffened at Knives's sneering tone of voice but did not turn around. "No."
"I see. Then, what, pray tell, are you doing in an apron?"
Vash's cheeks heated slightly at this statement. Setting the tray down slowly, Vash untied the apron and hung it on a hook on the wall. Without another word, he picked up the tray and walked towards the doorway. As it slid open, he paused, glancing over his shoulder at Knives, who was beginning to help himself to the soup.
"What are you doing?"
Knives cocked a brow. "Do you object?"
Vash turned away. "No. Help yourself."
Knives's mocking voice drifted through the opening as Vash left the room. "Go on, then, brother. You won't be able to run from me forever."
Vash's grip tightened on the tray, but he did not reply. His mood, which had lightened slightly while making the soup, was now darkening again. After all, life had not really improved in the days since Meryl had woken up.
First of all, ever since Vash and Knives had had their disagreement about what should be done with Meryl, they had barely spoken to each other. Usually they would meet in the kitchen during food raids. Actually, it was very disconcerting to Vash that Knives always seemed to appear whenever he was trying to cook something. Somehow, Vash did not believe that it was simply because he was a better chef than Knives (albeit only slightly better). Whenever Knives did say something, it was always something cryptic, like what he had just said.
Not only that, but Knives seemed especially smug about something. Vash could not put his finger on it, but Knives was definitely up to something. While Vash did not particularly miss his older brother's presence, he felt uneasy. But, there was no way of knowing just what the Plant was planning unless Vash asked him, and he was not about to do that.
I have more important things to worry about right now…
His pace slowing somewhat, Vash's expression became solemn. While Knives was a concern that he would have to deal with in the near future, Meryl was occupying his thoughts more now. Since waking up, she had said nothing to him. Absolutely nothing. Sometimes the silence got so bad that Vash would "accidentally" knock something over just to disrupt the stillness.
And the way she looks at me…
Vash shook his head, stomach churning. It was like the Meryl he knew was no longer there and had been replaced with some kind of lifeless doll. Her face, which was usually so expressive and alive, was practically without expression now. The only time Vash thought he saw some spark of life in her was in her eyes, but Meryl always looked away from him before he could decipher the tumultuous mix of emotions reflected there.
She was healing, though, and every day Vash checked her wounds for infection, relieved that none had set in. And yet, every time he changed her bandages, unwrapping the bloodied bandages and testing the site of the wound for any inflammation, Meryl shrank away from his careful touch. It was less pronounced now, but his heart wrenched every time she did.
I deserve this. I really do.
Vash paused in front of the door to the medical bay. "Meryl, I'm coming in, ok?"
When there was no response, Vash sighed, waiting a minute or so before stepping forward, the door sliding open. Setting the tray down on a nearby countertop, Vash turned, his mouth dry. Meryl was sitting on her bed in her nightgown, her legs underneath the covers. She looked at him for a moment before turning away.
"I brought you some soup," Vash said, a smile plastered on his face as he took his bowl of soup off of the tray before setting it on the small stand next to Meryl.
Her gaze flickered towards him for a moment before her eyes lowered, staring blankly at the soup. Vash watched her for a moment before pulling up a chair at the table. He sat down and began to pick idly at the soup, having lost his appetite. Still, Vash tried a few mouthfuls, savoring the taste with little interest, every now and then glancing at Meryl.
Vash stirred his soup broodingly. I hate the silence. That's one of the worst things about this.
"This recipe…"
Vash jumped, nearly knocking over his bowl. Jerking his head around, he gaze zeroed in on Meryl. She smiled at him faintly.
She…did she? Yes…she spoke! She did!
"You stole it."
Vash blinked, his mouth hanging open. "I wha-?"
"I said, you stole it," Meryl repeated, her voice rising above a whisper.
"What?"
She frowned at him. "The recipe."
"Oh…oh, that!" Vash laughed nervously. "Um…yeah, I was looking through your stuff the other day because-"
"You were doing what?"
Vash gulped, noticing the gleam in Meryl's eye, the look that said, "I am so going to hurt you, mister, if you say the wrong thing!" Tugging at his collar, he stuttered, "W-well, I…I was looking through your stuff for some…uh…changes of clothes for you-"
Her eyes narrowed into slits. "Clothes?"
"AndthenIfoundacookbooksoIdecidedtotrysomeoftherecipesinitsoIchosetomakethesoup!" Vash explained hurriedly, not bothering to take a breath between syllables.
Meryl stared at him. "Try again. Slowly this time."
"Eh heh…sorry!" Vash said sheepishly. "What I was trying to say was that I found a cookbook with your stuff so I looked up some recipes. I found this one today."
Meryl looked down. "I see…"
There was a long pause then, and Vash wondered nervously if the conversation would stop here or not. After all, this was the first time Meryl had even talked to him since the…incident, and he had almost expected it to be more…meaningful. But instead, they had joked around. There was tension there, sure, yet Vash had expected something…different.
"My father gave me that recipe."
Vash looked up, puzzled by this sudden statement. Meryl turned, her gaze faraway, her face bearing the wistful, distinct look of someone who was looking back on something. It occurred to Vash that he actually knew very little about Meryl, besides the fact that she was an insurance agent who worked for the Bernardelli Insurance Society.
But…other than that…
"I never knew my mother so he had to do the job of both," she continued quietly. "Everything I know, I learned from him, including how to shoot."
Vash stared at her. "Why…why are you telling me this?"
Meryl blinked, confusion flitting across her face. "I don't really know…"
"Then, why did you-?"
"I told you, I don't know!" Meryl shouted at him, her eyes suddenly wild. "I don't know anything anymore!"
Vash flinched at the pain in her voice, the uncertainty, and worst of all, the fear. She was afraid, so afraid that she thought she could not take anymore. It was etched across her face, her visage warped by the age lines that Vash had never noticed being there before all this had happened. He stared at her, dumbstruck with horror.
"I don't know why Knives hates me so much! I don't know why you got sick! I don't know why you took that knife and…and…did that to me when you were finally getting better! And…and…I don't know why I came at all in the first place!" Meryl shrieked, her voice growing steadily louder and more hysterical with each passing moment.
Vash reacted totally on instinct then, for if he had listened to his more rational self, he would have been appalled by even considering such a thing. He crossed the distance between them in second and wrapped his arms around her from behind, holding her close, his warmth mingling with hers.
Meryl stiffened in surprise before twisting her head about, an insane jumble of emotions racing across her face. She shouted at him, screamed in his face, hit him as hard as her small fists would allow, but he did not move, instead holding her closer as her rage increased.
Come on, Meryl, let it all out, he thought solemnly, not even flinching as another fist landed in his face. I can take it.
Gradually, the strength in the punches became less and less, and Meryl stopped struggling in his arms, her chest heaving with exertion. Vash closed his eyes, her small form so close to him that he could feel her heartbeat against her back. She trembled, and he opened his eyes, his vision blurring.
"I'm…so sorry, Meryl…so sorry… If I could take this back…any of it…I would in an instant. But, I can't. I can't…"
He expected her to pull away then, to shout at him, telling him he was such an asshole for even trying to say he was sorry. Vash bowed his head, knowing he deserved whatever he got. But…
His eyes widened with shock when she pressed closer against him. "M-Meryl?"
She looked up at him, her eyes bright, tears running down her cheeks. "I'm…I'm sorry, too…"
Vash laughed harshly, the sound bitter. "You? Why should you be sorry? You didn't…I'm the one who-"
"I know, but…" Meryl hesitated, biting her lip. "I just…I blamed you…for everything just now."
"I deserve it," Vash said dismally.
"No! No, you don't…"
He gaped at her, completely thrown by this statement. Has she LOST it?
"I do know why Knives hates me…even though I don't understand it. And…I know it's not your fault that you…got sick…" she said, faltering slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper. "And…I know why I came…"
Vash bit his lip. "So…you…you don't hate me?"
Meryl smiled weakly, shaking her head.
Vash swallowed hard. I can't believe this! She…I mean…she doesn't HATE ME? This is…unbelievable. After all this…I mean, sure, she raged at me for a while (MAN, her punches HURT), but…but…
Meryl did not hate him. Vash could not decide what exactly he was feeling now because he was relieved that she did not hate him but edgy at the same time. After all, he told himself that he would send her away as soon as possible for her own safety. But, damnit, this position was so comfortable!
Wait a minute…am I…HOLDING Meryl?
This was bad. Surely he was overstepping some kind of rule here, some kind of boundary. He noticed Meryl looking at him bemusedly.
"Something wrong?"
"Oh…er…no!" Vash protested awkwardly. "I was…um…just wondering if you…er…wanted me to let…go?"
Meryl blinked, her lips curving upward slightly. "Actually…I'd like to stay like this. For a little longer…"
EH? "You…you do?" Vash stuttered.
"Yeah." She paused, looking back up at him again. "Do you?"
Vash thought about that for a minute, conscious of her eyes upon him. Considering everything, the fact that he was here, in this spot, right now, was nothing short of a miracle. But, did he want this? He blinked, a faint smile touching his lips.
"Yeah. I do."
Vash drew her closer to him, rocking back and forth slightly, just enjoying the silence of the moment. Her breathing, his breathing, calming and soothing after the stress of all these weeks. And even though Vash knew this one instance would not last forever and that wishing that it would was foolish (and cliché), he still wished that it would.
"Vash…?"
"Hmmm?"
"The soup is getting cold."
Vash sighed, untangling himself from Meryl. Her eyes and face were red, a testament to how much she had been crying. Wiping his eyes roughly, Vash knew he had probably been doing the same thing. But, he felt like a weight had been lifted from him. And that was enough.
"Would you…help me to the table?"
Vash nodded, lifting her carefully and plunking her gently in a seat. He sighed with relief, glad that her soup had not spilled in the resulting chaos. Setting the soup in front of her, Vash smiled when she began to eat. He followed suit soon after.
"Do you remember the last time I made this?"
Looking up, Vash thought about it. "It does seem kind of familiar…"
Meryl nodded solemnly. "I made it for you…right before you left to face Knives that last time. When you were…hurt…"
Vash swirled the liquid around in his bowl, his expression sad. "I remember."
She smiled faintly. "It's deja vú all over again."
"Yeah."
They continued to eat in silence, which made Vash wonder if they really had made up. After all, if they had, then it would not be this awkward. Would it?
"Vash…there's something about this that I don't understand. And…I've been dreading asking you…"
Sighing, a resigned look on his face, Vash nodded. "I know. Go ahead and ask."
Meryl stared at the table's surface, not meeting his gaze. "About…what happened…why did you…?"
Vash rubbed the back of his neck. "Well…it's kind of hard to explain."
She shook her head. "That excuse won't work on me, Vash. And…I have the right to know."
Vash exhaled slowly. "Yes, you do. Where can I even start…?"
Meryl touched his hand, cupping it in her own. "The beginning," she said quietly, "would be a good place."
He stared at her, a sad smile hovering over his lips. "Alright."
So, he told her. He told her everything. Vash remembered a few months ago telling her the general picture, about the Great Fall, Knives, July, the Gung-Ho Guns, and Augusta. Yet, somehow, at that time, he could not bring himself to tell Meryl about Tessla, his sister and the first independent Plant, how she had been dissected for research purposes. His voice cracked when he told Meryl how he had stabbed Rem, but he kept going, determined to get it out.
"So…when I…you know…I was having a nightmare about…that," Vash said, regret lining his face.
Meryl bowed her head. "I see. So…that's the real reason why Knives hates us so much."
"I'm afraid so," Vash replied heavily. "I've tried to reason with him. I've fought with him. I've tried everything I know of to convince him to stop. But he won't. And now," he sighed, rubbing his temples, "I think he's up to something. And I don't know what."
"What makes you think so?" Meryl asked, frowning.
"I don't know, I just…"
Meryl stared at him. "Vash, what is it?"
Without another word, Vash jerked away from the table and darted from the room, ignoring Meryl's calls. He had left her all alone, but there was no help for that. Vash sensed something wrong with his sisters, the Plants living on this old ship. Something was wrong, and Vash had a feeling that he knew who was causing it.
Knives strode forward, his gaze fixed upon his sister Plant, the one in the center of the facility. The grass rustled beneath his feet, and he barely noticed a rust-tinged strain upon a patch of grass. His ragged travel cloak wrapped about his shoulders, Knives considered what he was about to do.
Since his last disagreement with Vash, Knives had kept away from his younger twin, satisfied with merely dropping cryptic hints here and there, attempting to make him squirm. After all, making Vash uncomfortable was what Knives had been doing for a century, and he had not lost his touch.
Knives stopped, staring up at the bulb, within which his sister was contained. Naturally, she did not power this facility. Knives had abandoned such methods long ago, determined to find a way to utilize other sources of energy. He had refused to use his sisters as the humans did, as servants who slaved away for ungrateful, wasteful masters.
After decades of research, Knives had discovered an effective, if crude, way to manage the suns' rays, manipulate them, and convert them into a power source. It was still a prototype, but it functioned well enough to keep this facility running. Beyond that, Knives had no other use for the technology.
Certainly, if Vash knew of the existence of his technological achievement, he would most likely feed Knives the same idealist prattle about how such an innovation could allow Plants and humans to live in peace. The thought of it was laughable! Even if the burden upon all of their Plant brethren was lifted, there would still be the unalterable fact that humans feared and destroyed that which they could not understand. In essence, anything different was something to be crushed beneath their feet. In addition, that did not change the fact that they were parasites.
They have been a thorn in my side for far too long.
Knives grasped the cold metal railing, hauling himself up onto the first of many stairs leading up to the bulb itself. For some reason, when this ship had crashed, the force of it had elevated the bulb. The stairs had been built later under Knives's supervision so he could more easily converse with his siblings. There were several scattered about the facility, but Knives felt more drawn to this sister for some reason.
As he mounted the last step, arriving at the top of the platform, Knives strode forward, his expression impassive as he beheld his sister, her glowing for held suspended within the bulb. She stared down at him, her expression solemn. Knives inclined his head, paying respect to one older than himself, waiting for her response.
Her voice, lacking any semblance of normal human expression, reverberated across his mind, a harmony of eerie sounds and complex emotions. He listened, replying in like fashion, his brow furrowed, as he tried to convince her of the necessity of this endeavor.
According to the data Knives had collected on merging, the concept itself was quite possible. However, most Plants did not care to merge at all, and when forced to do so, they rejected the attempt, causing the fusion to fall apart. However, if Knives's theory was correct, a merger could be held together if the will on the part of one of the Plants was great enough to hold it together. In other words, mergers were possible when Independents such as himself tried them, and the benefits were worth the risk. Today, he was about to test his theory's accuracy. It would help his cause if he could enlist the permission of the other Plant, but it was not necessary. Still, he would try first.
A particularly harsh comment from his sister caused Knives to bow his head, sinking to one knee.
"I confess my sins. I was too impetuous then. I sacrificed many of our comrades. I'm not afraid. This is anger. Humans... They act on their material desires without self-control. In the end, they even devour their host Earth like parasites. Even now, they are trying to consume us, unable to think of anything but themselves."
He paused then, aware that his sister was relaying his words to the others stationed in the ship. Their agitation was rising, but Knives continued, his hand outstretched.
"Give me strength. It seems I can't do it alone."
His elder hesitated, and Knives waited patiently for her reply.
"KNIVES! What are you doing?"
Knives's lips curled upwards cruelly as he rose to his feet, looking out across the green, so much like the Rec Room of the old SEEDS ship. Vash stood at the Plant's base, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Vash?" Knives sneered.
"Answer the question!" Vash shouted, ignoring Knives's inquiry.
Knives cocked an eyebrow. "I am having a conversation with out sisters. I have been denied my own brother. Will I be forced to forgo speaking with our brethren as well?"
Vash looked past him, his gaze fixed upon his older sister. "What has he been saying to you?" he demanded. "What has he asked you to do?"
"That is not your concern!" Knives snapped. "Don't try to pretend to be a good brother to our siblings now, Vash. You're over a century too late for that."
"That's not true, Knives!" Vash countered.
Knives narrowed his eyes. "Isn't it? That's not what I see, dear brother. What I see is that your foolish ideals have cut you of from your real family in exchange for a community of inferior species! And you have hampered my efforts to improve our family's condition!"
"Knives, you're going about it the wrong way!"
"Well then, Vash," Knives spat, "if you have a better idea, then please share it by all means." When his younger brother did not reply, Knives continued. "All you have are contradictory ideals while I have a definite plan to create Eden."
"Knives, please-!"
"NO!" Knives bellowed, his eyes burning with rage. "I've had enough! I will not tolerate this anymore! Not your human, not your foolish sentimentalism, NOTHING! We will settle this once and for all, Vash, and one of us will not live to see the suns rise again."
Vash was outraged. "I am NOT going to agree to that!"
"You will, Vash," Knives said softly, his voice low and deadly. "I'm not giving you a choice in the matter."
Vash stared up at his brother, his expression sad yet determined. "When and where?"
Knives waved a hand dismissively. "It makes little difference to me. However," Knives drawled slowly, "I would prefer if you cleaned yourself up and cut your hair. After all, I want you to be at your best when I defeat you."
Vash opened his mouth, looking ready to say something. Instead, he closed it and nodded, his fists clenched as he walked slowly away. Knives watched him go, a strange anticipation growing within him.
Glancing back at his sister one more time, Knives smirked before turning and striding of the platform, his cloak billowing behind him. The merger could wait. Preparations had to be made.
Can you FEEL teh LURVE? XD
Knives: FEH!
Oh, shut up, you party pooper! Go prepare for the final battle, or whatever.
Knives: I will triumph over my foolish brother and kill his pet!
…That's not written in your contract.
Knives: I do as I please!
-glares- Is that so? I'll show YOU! -begins chasing Knives around and whacking him with the Almighty Monkey Stick-
Knives: DAMN IT!
Kuroneko-zilla: NYARGH! (Translation: REVIEW NOW, or I'll EAT YOU!)