Of Men and Of Angels

Disclaimer/Notes: First of all, I do not own Trigun or its characters. Second of all...please forgive me for taking so long! My birthday was on the twenty-sixth of June. (Sixteen...time to get my intermediate drivers' license! Stay off the road, folks.) Two of my friends also celebrated birthdays soon before that. I've been gone a lot doing many things, and the plot is simply not listening to me! I swear my story has it out for me. After some of the turns the story took, I realized my previous outline was unacceptable. I erased all of it and rewrote. Thanks for your patience, and again, I'm really sorry for taking so long!

Everything felt so numb.

In a way, it was so much worse than agony, because at least when in pain, you knew that you were alive. Numbness meant emptiness, and emptiness was the beginning of death. Emptiness... it was the worst feeling, worse than pain or anger or the sorrow that filled him. He felt nothing, now, even though his fingers touched wet blood at his side and his lungs labored in the obscured air.

Vash's body revolted and he coughed violently, falling to both knees in the rubble. Pieces of the ceiling crashed down around him, but the sounds were distant, the shuddering of the ground just echoing reverberations, as if he was only observing this chaos rather than taking a part in it. An unfamiliar warmth spilled over his lips and made dark indents in the dust below him. Wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, he drew it away to see a wet smear that looked black in the light. Blood, his mind registered belatedly. Vash drew in a heavy breath and weakly dropped his hand to his side.

Get up.

Vash balanced on one leg and supported himself with both hands as he stood again. Holding himself up by a protruding piece of rubble, he tried to focus on the exit, but could hardly see it through the dust. Was it really that far away? Darkness fell on the world around him. Vash briefly wondered why, but as his feet slipped from beneath him, he realized. He was passing out.

"Vash!" Knives stood in the shadow of the exit ahead. "Vash? Are you still in there?"

Vash drew a deep breath and stifled the urge to cough. "Knives...go."

His brother did not respond. With all the noise, Vash's voice did not carry more than a few feet. He knew it was not a good idea to use his abilities after such a large use of them so soon before, but he couldn't let his brother stay here for too long. It was dangerous. 'Knives, get out of here! What are you doing? This place is going to collapse!'

'And you think I'm going to let you die in such a trivial way?' Knives' dry amusement echoed like razors in Vash's mind.

Several huge blades shot out from Knives' outstretched hand. Vash almost expected them to be aimed at him, but they only went over him, blocking a falling sheet of metal. It crashed off of the blades and fell down next to Vash.

'Now come. It's you who must hurry.'

Vash shook his head. He was too slow; Knives should just leave.

"Run or we'll both die, Vash!" Knives impatiently demanded.

Vash used both arms to lift himself upright. His left arm was slow. Though the prosthetic was attached to the nerves in his shoulder, the weaker he was, the weaker his abilities to control it were. Vash was surprised that the thing still worked at all. Each movement was delayed, half-hearted. Such was the curse of the fake.

The light in the room suddenly burst to blinding intensity as the ceiling of the structure seemed to slide away, letting out a deafening metallic shriek.

"Vash!"

He ran forward, not daring to contemplate the shaky steps he took. If he thought or hesitated for a single moment, he'd be dead. The ceiling fell at the very moment he scrambled out of the diminishing exit, and Vash's legs gave out in weakness. He fell to the side, but Knives' arms grabbed him as he slumped. "Idiot..." was the murmured rebuke. A forceful cloud of dust blew over the two brothers, and Vash's hazy eyes watched the walls tumble in on themselves, cracked and broken, useless without support.

Even through the dust, he felt the shock caused by the sudden collapse. He saw shrapnel flying through the air toward both of them. Smaller pieces crashed into the sand, digging deep ruts with their momentum. He wasn't sure whether to feel fear or not, or if it really mattered. Everything was so confused.

Then he saw nothing but white as Knives stepped over him, arms and bladed wings spread out to shield them both from the shrapnel. It looked ethereal, and Vash wondered for a moment how something so beautiful could be so wrong.

The last pieces rested in the sand only moments later, and Knives let his wings move behind him again.

Vash stared up, willing his faded vision to clear. "Why?" he finally asked, confused. "Why would you...?"

Knives scowled in reply as his subzero eyes raked critically over Vash's tattered, bloody coat and the sand and filth that stained it. "You look pitiful," he concluded.

Vash coughed again, sitting up halfway and leaning forward as if to hide his face from his brother. Even though he cupped his hand over his mouth, little rivulets of bright blood still found their way through his fingers and trailed down the back of his hand. Staring at the streaks of red, he offered Knives an embarrassed smile.

He didn't know why it was so funny to him, but the most indiscernible look grew on Knives' face. Vash would have said it was disgust, but it was much too soft. The arched eyebrows suggested confusion, but this look was much too raw. Concern?

Maybe it was all three, and maybe that's why it seemed so funny. Vash had never seen the look on his brother's face before, to his memory. He pulled his hand away and glanced curiously at the warm blood that etched into the lines of his palm. Why did he not hurt? He restrained the urge to cough again. It was an annoying feeling, like a tickle in his throat, an ache deep in his chest. If only that would go away, he would be fine.

Everything seemed so warm, so flawless. Though the clouds had passed to reveal both suns at their brightest, their light seemed pale and gentle, as if it had been sifted in soft clouds, even though the sky was clear.

"It's nice out here, don't you think?"

Knives looked down and observed softly, "You're shaking, Vash."

Was he? He shrugged, blinking lazily as he tried to maintain consciousness. All he felt like doing was sleeping. "It's...not actually too bad out here."

Knives' eyes softened and he looked down at his brother. His mouth opened as if to speak, but then he closed it, and the cold look fell over his features again.

Vash sighed.

So much had changed since back then...

"Huh? What's that, Rem? Why doesn't it have pictures?" The boy held the heavy book, fingers flipping through the thin pages as wide eyes intensely scanned long paragraphs and generous notes jotted into the small margins.

The woman stared down, dark eyes brimming with happiness as a laugh bubbled up through her lips. "It's called a Bible, silly." She gently touched the nose of the pale blond little boy, who looked as if he could not be more than six years old. Beside the questioning boy, a more silent twin sat, the huge smile on his face a copy of Rem's own as he stared, rapt, at her expression. The other boy sat up, longish platinum blond hair falling over arctic eyes. "So? And why is it so big?"

Rem smiled again. "Because there is much to say, Knives. This book is very special to very many people on Earth. They believe very strongly in the words inside."

"Do you, Rem?" the second twin asked eagerly.

Rem patted the boy's head. "Oh, Vash. I...suppose. I'm not sure, sometimes. It's awful hard to out here." Shaking herself out of a reverie, she laughed again. "But it's a very beautiful book, either way. I think you boys should see it."

"Well..." With distaste, the other twin opened to a random page. "What does it say, though?"

Gently taking the large book from the young child's hands, Rem opened to a part marked with a faded maroon strip of cloth. "It talks about a lot of things, Knives. There's a whole entire chapter that talks about love! It talks about what love is, and the purity of motivations. Do you want to see?"

"Love?" Knives asked.

The younger twin smiled, eagerness lighting his aqua eyes. "Yes, Rem, show us!"

She scanned with her fingers and read from the beginning, occasionally stopping to explain what an outdated word meant. "...And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing..."

Knives stopped her after several more verses, curiosity and annoyance oozing from his voice. "What's with all the 'eth' stuff?"

Rem laughed. "It's just a funny way that people used to talk a long time ago. It's hard to understand, and there are many different versions of this book, but I like this version. The words are so poetic...so beautiful."

"Oh, okay."

Rem continued to read. Knives sat beside his twin, who stared on with wide eyes, taking in every word. "Charity suffereth long, and is kind," she said, words soft and musical.Time passed in the dark room where only the light of the stars and the sound of her voice infiltrated. "...Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away."

"Tongues?" Knives grinned, sticking his tongue through his small teeth.

"Tongues means languages," Rem explained. She finished up the last few verses, then looked at the boys. "So, what did you think, Vash? ...Knives?"

"I think it was beautiful," Vash said.

Knives' brows furrowed. "I don't know why a person would be like that. I don't know why people would suffer to be kind. It seems sort of silly."

"But it's not, Knives. If some people are not like that, then who would be?"

Knives became silent. He walked to the front of the room, where an uninhibited view of space shone through a thick window. Pressing both small hands against the glass, he sighed, letting his breath fog up against it.

Rem and Vash got up, and both called to him. Knives grinned and followed, letting the unanswered questions and confusion sink to the back of his mind.

Several months later, he sat in a chair, platinum locks falling around him as he sliced them off. His nearly flawless memory recalled a verse from the chapter Rem had read him. So fitting. He spoke it aloud as the last locks fell to the floor.

"When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things."

"Vash, what have you done to yourself?" Knives swore, and the words he did not dare speak aloud echoed in his mind. Vash was dying. Because of the magnitude of the energy he used, Vash's inexperienced body had not been able to handle it. That, Knives had learned, was the one hindrance on their abilities. More often than not, Knives just became tired after using too much of his power, but he supposed that it had not been good for Vash to use so much energy with the horrible condition his body had been in.

He was bleeding internally now.

"Fool," Knives hissed to himself, grabbing his brother as Vash slipped back toward the sand. "You didn't need that much energy to block me. You should have used less."

A sharp pang of guilt surged through Knives, but he pushed it down. It had not been his fault at all. Everything he had done for Vash thus far had been for his good. A part of Knives' mind shot at him, What about killing the crew? What about the Gung-Ho Guns? What about causing him to kill?

Knives stopped those thoughts before they settled into his mind. Those had been lessons. Unfortunately, sometimes, distasteful things had to be done to ensure a positive end. Knives frowned. But no positive end was in sight. All those things, rather than breaking Vash, had only strengthened his resolve.

It was Vash's fault.

Knives grit his teeth as Vash's head fell limp against Knives' supporting arm, his will to stay awake finally losing out to the mesmerizing pull of unconsciousness. Those pale, compassionate eyes slipped closed. Vash looked almost like he was sleeping, his pained features settling into a soft, untainted expression.

Knives felt an unnatural warmth against his side. Grimacing, he looked down. The blood and grit from Vash's wound had stained Knives' clean clothes, smearing scarlet across the pure white cloth. Disgusting. Knives sighed. Well, at least Vash's blood was clean, unlike the filth those spiders oozed. He slid a hand under his brother and lifted him up, standing to his feet. He needed to get Vash to the medical section of the ship. There was not much time.

Vash's body convulsed with a sharp cough, reinforcing the truth of Knives' thoughts. Damn you, Vash, you'd better be okay for just a few more minutes. If determination means anything to you, you'll hold on.

Knives shuddered as he looked at his brother's face. A small rivulet of blood leaked from Vash's mouth through clenched teeth, and his body trembled despite the warm temperature outside.

Tapping in his entrance code, he did not wait for the doors to close behind him before hurrying down the hall of the ship. A couple minutes later, he stopped in front of a tightly secured door. The scanning required to enter it stole several precious seconds.

The doors opened to reveal a cool light, soft and blue-tinted. Knives felt a gentle tingle on his skin, and his eyes wandered to the occupants of the room. "Hello, my sisters," he whispered as he said Vash down onto a cold, chrome table. "I'm sorry for what I must do."

The energy given off by one of the plants was the most immediate way Knives could think of to regenerate his brother's injuries. He had been able to heal before by channeling their energy, but he didn't dare try to heal Vash by himself. He'd never been able to heal himself before. The only abilities he'd been able to use with stability for any length were his more offensive ones.

He pursed his lips. He'd probably only cause more damage by trying. Knives sat Vash's unconscious body up and slipped the tattered coat off, tossing it to the ground. He'd be able to properly dispose of the disgusting thing later on. For now... He did not have time to remove his brother's shirt, so he cut it away with his blades, trying not to look at the scars, the bolts that had secured damaged bones, and the crude, primitive grates over once deep wounds.

It made him feel sick merely to know that they were there, such an obvious testament to Vash's weakness. Sparing a quick glance at Vash, Knives adjusted the energy output of the plant and carefully connected snaking wires to his brother's chest. It was sort of like those paddles, defibrillators—the lost technology that the spiders had used. Once he had finished setting everything up, he turned his back and started the process. It would only take a few moments.

The plant glowed brighter as more and more energy was demanded of it. He could feel the pain of the being inside, but he ignored the ethereal cries that permeated the air. 'Sometimes small but important things must be forgotten to accommodate larger concerns. Small sacrifices must be made. I'm sorry.'

He winced. Only a few more moments...

"Kn—" The voice was choked, but Knives knew immediately who it was.

'Speak to me this way and it won't hurt so much. Be still, Vash.'

Knives didn't turn around, but he heard Vash struggling against the restraints Knives had strapped over him.

'Knives, what's going on?'

Knives sighed. Curious as always. 'You're healing. Normally using your abilities merely causes exhaustion, as you well know, but using power of such a magnitude when your body was so weak caused irreparable damage to you internally. I'm using the Plant's energy to heal you. It may actually take a while, depending upon the extent of the damage.'

'Flawed, Knives. Like everything else. Like everyone else. Right?'

Knives spoke aloud. "Be quiet, Vash..."

'You seem to see yourself as different. I don't know why. Why can you not realize it? You're just like those you hate. Power does not make you better. The only way power makes you better is if you use it correctly.'

Vash's body strained against the straps as he coughed.

"Okay, Vash. Don't speak now. Using your gift at this point is not advisable, since all the Plant's energy should be used to heal you, rather than to channel your abilities. Anything more than silence will tax it."

Vash was silent from that point on. Knives allowed himself a smile. He'd known that would work. Vash even didn't want the Plant to labor too hard. His weakness was almost comical.

Several moments passed, and Knives was sure that he heard Vash moving around a bit more.

"Stop this!" Vash finally gasped out. "It's...the Plant...it's hurting."

"I can't stop it now. I'm not sure if you will live at this point. You may feel fine, but it's only because our sister is supporting you. If I stop, the healing process may not be complete enough that you can support yourself without it. You may die. No matter what I do, our sister will not."

More sounds of struggle from behind him.

"You won't know..." Vash whispered, "Unless you try it. Stop this, Knives." A soft clicking sound reached Knives' ears.

In anger, he spun around to see that Vash had found the fasteners. The straps fell away as he sat up and leaned over, settling both elbows onto his knees and resting his head in them. He lifted his warm, liquid eyes until they met Knives'. "Don't you understand?" he asked over the sounds of the Plant.

"Vash—"

Knives clenched the controls and brought them back down, aborting the process. The Plant stopped writhing, its small capacity for sensation slipping back into the comfort of cold nothingness inside of the bulb.

"Thank you," Vash said.

In the silent blue glow, Knives looked at Vash. "Why did you stop me? Are you crazy? Vash, do you want to die?"

He shook his head. "No. Neither. Actually, I suppose that I have more of a reason to live now than ever, because there are people I want to live for. But what is my life if I steal others' lives to live? It's nothing. So I won't do it." Vash sat up straight, gripping the table and setting himself down on his feet. He stumbled a bit, but regained his balance quickly. Still holding to the table, he smiled wistfully at the Plant, and then at Knives. "I think I just need to rest."

He left the room and Knives followed the fading shadow with his gaze. When the door slipped closed, Knives shook his head.Vash didn't make sense at all.

Night fell on the silent desert and a wind breathed over the dunes, complimenting the setting suns with a beautiful haze of dust that magnified the warm, yellow light. Waves of that light shone on the sand, making it seem like hills of golden glass rose from the ground.

The wind was cool on his face, the sand receptive to his soft footsteps.

Vash watched as the huge entrance closed behind him.

He walked over the sand. The warmth infused into it by the hot suns was still there, just beginning to be replaced by the chilling cool of night.

Mounting the top of a dune, he looked back only once to their battlefield, the collapsed section of the ship stained with blood and chemicals, framed in the same warm light that shone so brightly behind him. All he could see was black and white; dark and light, charcoal-colored rubble and scattered feathers. He could not see the blood or the gray haze of settled dust.

He turned away from it and continued to walk.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered, but his words were stolen by the wind and playfully tossed around him. "Sorry Knives, but there's something I have to do."

Author's Notes: Yikes! Lots of talking, lots of symbolism—catch it if you can—blood, drama and a bit of experimental writing. I would greatly appreciate comments, on this chapter especially, because I'm wondering if the writing style is okay. More Insurance Girls next chapter! This one is sort of the turning point, where both brothers begin to make their final decisions. Only a little while until the end now. In case the title of this chapter makes no sense, it's in the first verse of the aforementioned chapter of 1 Corinthians. The reason behind the title of the story is also finally given in this chapter. LOL, I know it's sort of random, but the title refers to much more than the items themselves. What do you think it means? Well, I'll stop rambling. Thanks for reading!