And Miles to Go…
Chapter Four: You and Me
By Seishuku Skuld
Series: Trigun
Pairing: Knives x Legato
Warnings: The usual
Date: December 18, 2004
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Legato woke one morning and immediately knew that something was wrong. Knives' presence—a lingering whisper that always floated in the back of his mind—was missing. This had happened before, but only on rare occasions. So Legato started off the day with a seed of worry in his heart, wondering if this was another test from his master or whether Knives had truly left him without so much as a word. He moved about his room as he threw off his blankets and dressed, waiting for the automated message that Knives sent him when he went on his trips, but the screen did not so much as flicker and the computer console was silent.
Legato walked about the rest of the ship doing what he usually did most mornings, making himself breakfast and checking the status of the ship's internal sensors, all the while getting more and more worried each passing minute that Knives was absent. His master was gone and hadn't even bothered to leave him a note. That was a first in all the years that Legato had spent with him.
Legato's thoughts, the latent power in the back of his mind seemed unusually loud amidst the rumbling of the ship—the white noise generated by the ship's lights, computer systems, engines, the whirring of the fans that recycled the air. Legato's silverware clattered loudly with his plate as he placed the remains of his meal in the foodservice disposal. There was a brief hiss as the ship's systems whisked his dishes away, and then all was back to the ship's usual amount of humming. He swallowed, and even that seemed oddly loud. Amongst the ship's arch corridors, it's tall ceilings and its bright lights, he was the only thing moving about on the ship. There were no more specimens left in the holding cells, he had disposed of them under Knives' satisfactory eye not three days ago, and even though there were still the plants in the hydroponics bay, they made poor company and did not seem to fill the stillness of the ship.
Legato let out the breath he'd been holding in. He was alone. The thought staggered him.
There had been times when Knives had left him alone in the past. After he deemed that Legato had come of age, Knives occasionally would simply decide to leave, but always with explicit instructions on how far Legato was to progress in the use of his powers and maintain the ship. Knives had always promised he would come back, and Legato had always been content to wait. Most times Knives was only gone for a few days, though he had been known to absent for weeks. Legato had never been lonely in the term of his master's absence. Knives had always left him some sort of purpose, usually to achieve some greater dexterity and control of his powers.
Legato's footsteps resounded in the corridors as the door closed behind him with a whoosh that echoed the length of the long passageway at the center of his wing of the ship. The corridors lights lit as he approached, illuminating his way in discrete steps as he continued to walk forward.
"Bridge," Legato said as he stepped into the lift, his quiet voice seeming to him very loud even through the whirring of the lift's motors.
It was entirely possible this was a test. Legato considered that thought carefully as he ascended the decks of the ship. Knives could very well have withdrawn his presence to observe what his servant would do without orders, though his master had no reason to test him in this manner. Even through all his years at Knives' side, Legato was not fully able to predict his master's moods or temperaments. If this was truly a test then Legato was determined to pass it, as he had done with all of Knives' previous examinations. If this was not—the lift stopped and Legato stepped onto an empty bridge—then he didn't know what to do. There must have been a reason for Knives to abandon him without notice, something very important and very urgent.
Legato sat at his usual console to the right of Knives' seat, a small computer station from which he was able to access nearly all the ship's systems. He placed his hands upon the controls, and immediately the dark panel lit up beneath his fingers, a spreading web of security readings, computer access logs, environmental controls—every crucial system to the ship's ongoing function. Legato spoke evenly to the computer as he scanned the security log from earlier that morning.
"Locate Millions Knives."
"Millions Knives departed at 0502 hours through Shuttle Bay One."
"Trajectory of vehicle."
"Trajectory unknown."
Legato's frown deepened. So his master was gone after all. For him to head off so quickly without even a word at such an early time of morning meant that whatever he was doing was urgent, more compelling than anything Legato had ever seen Knives encounter.
He was about to head down to the deeper bowels of the ship, wondering if he would discover what might have drawn his master away when he noticed the console at the captain's chair, blinking dully. Legato walked over to it and turned the screen facing him. At his touch the monitor came to life, and several small screens opened, none of which Knives had bothered to lock before making his apparently hasty departure. Legato raised an eyebrow in interest. The documents last accessed by Knives were simple government identification dossiers, hacked from the primitive database the rest of the planet used to keep track of their history. Legato noticed two things upon immediate inspection—the supposed lineage of the family whose dossiers reports he was staring at, and that they had come from July City.
Legato drew in a quick breath. They were her descendants; or rather descendants of her close relatives. Rem Saverem. The name left a bitter taste in his mouth. The only discovery that could make Knives drop everything he was doing and rush out of the ship was that his enigmatic twin brother was somehow also seeking them out.
"Vash," Legato whispered, the sound strange to his lips. He could not help the feelings of jealousy that arose within him.
Knives had gone to find his brother, and had left Legato an empty, quiet ship with no instructions, no promises of return…nothing. Gritting his teeth to keep control of himself Legato stood, with a flick of his mental powers he moved the console back into its original place.
There were only two choices that lay in front of him—either he would stay, or he would go immediately. The right one was very clear. This might be the first time that Legato disobeyed the wishes of his Master. This might be the last time Legato did anything. He knew full well what Knives was capable of when angered. Nevertheless, there was no doubt in his mind what he must do. Legato locked down the ship with a swift verbal command, shutting off all non-essential systems. He took the lift to Shuttle Bay One and jumped into the nearest vehicle with enough fuel to take him to all the way to the city of July and back.
Whether or not Knives wanted him to, Legato was going.
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Knives had been in shock when Legato had dragged him out of the rubble. There hadn't been much left of Knives to dig out, but as soon as Legato had spotted his master he had been determined to remove him from the ruined city whether not Knives was still alive.
To his immense relief Knives was indeed alive, but it had been no small task for Legato to clear the rubble covering him and carry him to the edge of the city where he had left his vehicle. Being placed inside jolted Knives out of his shock, the first sound that passed his burnt lips a raw, scratchy scream. Legato blanched with the sheer power that emitted from Knives' damaged vocal system, but nevertheless kept his voice calm, pushing down his stomach's natural revulsion at the cry emanating from what looked for all the world like a reanimated corpse.
"Master," Legato said softly, "we must go." He tried not to state the obvious, the fact that there wasn't enough left of Knives for him to be alive according to the biological dictates he had studied as a child. But Knives was indeed alive, and it did not seem like he wanted to leave. "Vash," he moaned, his one eye swiveling in wild circles, never seeming to focus or settle on one particular object before flying to another one.
"He is...not here," lied Legato. He did not know where, or even if, Vash was still left somewhere in the debris, but that fact no longer mattered. Knives needed to be taken back to the ship immediately. "I must get you back to the ship," Legato continued, looking away hastily as Knives' erratic gaze fixed on him.
Oddly, Knives did not complain, but Legato guessed that was probably because Knives had not consciously registered the fact that someone was speaking to him. Legato pushed the ball of fear to the back of his mind and held it there in check, locked away in so many mental barriers Legato doubted he would even be able to find it again when this business was all through.
Knives was…how should he put it, only half there. Half his body had been melted away, bony feathers sprouting from the remaining part of his back, his one arm turned scaly and rigid, a brilliant silver from inside which there seemed to emanate a strange golden glow. This arm held another arm, one still wrapped in what looked like black leather, slowly bleeding from the end of a severed stump. Knives seemed to be cradling it to the remains of his chest, his fingers wrapped about it in a vice-like grip. Legato had tried to pry it from Knives' clutch, but Knives would not let go, so reluctantly he let his master keep it.
Knives' flesh was burnt and seared; some of it had turned to ash and fallen on Legato's white coat in the process of transporting Knives from the center to the edge of city. He did not know what he had been thinking when he had taken Knives from the wreckage of July; all he had known was that Knives was not dead. Legato did what he could, even daring to touch the very surface of Knives' mind and ease some of the pain. He could not take very much, but he took as much as his mind let him. That stopped most of the screams, and thereafter Knives only cried out occasionally in moans that sounded suspiciously like the name of his brother. He seemed to be subject to fits and long, silent depressions alternating with short manic periods full of screaming. Then his body would shake so much that it would splatter Legato with blood and ash. But Legato could do nothing but take him back to the ship in his vehicle, which did not offer the smoothest of rides as it crossed the giant dunes separating the ruined the city and their hidden ship.
Knives was jostled around a bit as he leaned against the far side of the door, exposing his blackened, charred flesh to Legato, who noted with no small amount of worry that small bits were constantly cracking off and falling onto the seat. Legato worried that not enough of his master would survive the journey.
Knives never spoke to him at all during the trip, the only sounds from him the screams or the name, "Vash." Legato grit his teeth, partly for the pain, and partly for the anger that he harbored for Knives' twin. He did not know exactly what had transpired in July for he had arrived just before the city was destroyed, his own powers barely saving himself by deflecting the rubble from the tremendous blast. No one other than a being matching Knives' power could have been able to do something like that to his master, and the hatred for Vash grew within Legato's heart every time Knives uttered the name.
Legato somehow managed to pull Knives into the ship two days later. Even before the shuttle bay door had started closing Legato was out of his seat with his master in his arms, carrying him through the hatch that sealed them off from the rest of the planet. Legato hesitated then, for there were still many vital areas of the ship that Knives had never opened up to him, including the medical bay which was the first place that Legato thought of bringing his master.
"Engine room," Knives managed, his lips twisting with the words as Legato carried him down the main corridor, making for the lift to the lower levels.
"You need rest, Master," Legato answered quickly, his stomach plummeting at the thought of just exactly now much rest Knives needed. "I'll take you to the medical bay."
"Engine room," Knives spoke again, his mouth moving slowly, the words barely coherent between his rasping breaths as he leaned into Legato's shirt, leaving blackened trails of dust and dark stains of blood. He had never repeated an order before.
There was a moment of indecision before Legato nodded once. "Yes, Master." His mind had formed a preliminary hypothesis as to why Knives needed the to be with ship's engines instead of in the infirmary, so he did not voice any further hesitations as he made his way down the ship's dim corridors as fast as his legs would carry him. Legato did not have access to the lowest levels of the ship where Knives resided, so when the door refused him entry he simply forced them open.
It was another few hours before Legato had Knives installed in the engineering section of the ship. The Plant lay encased in the same glass as the other plants that lined the room. There had been no empty bulbs of the size that Knives had needed, so Legato had to empty one for him. That had required taking out its previous owner, which he had done quickly and efficiently.
"Leave me," Knives rasped finally when the readings on the console had stabilized.
"Master, I cannot—"
"Leave me!" Knives commanded, his one good eye wide open and staring at Legato angrily. "Go!" It was the second time that Knives had had to repeat himself.
Legato bowed reluctantly. "I will return in a few hours."
"You will return when I summon you."
"Yes, Master."
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Despite having had no rest for four days, Legato woke earl yin the morning and headed down immediately to the engineering deck. Knives' section of the ship was in total disarray. Metal doors, whole bulkheads and sections of the wall lay strewn about the corridor, twisted and mangled nearly beyond recognition.
The door to the engine room slid open smoothly at Legato's approach. He walked quietly down the long aisle lined with Plant bulbs, each emitting a dull glow overshadowed only by Knives, who lay at the furthest end of the chamber. Knives was asleep, or at least appeared to be so, for his one eye was closed and his body lay unmoving. The ash had completely fallen off his body and the bleeding had ceased. What remained of him seemed to Legato less frail and less pale than before.
"Master," Legato said, sinking to one knee in front of the giant glass casing, "tell me what I must do to ease your pain."
"Master," he said, striding across the room and sinking to one knee in front of the giant glass case. "Tell me what I must do to ease your pain."
::There is nothing you can do for me right now, Legato.::
That was the first time that Knives spoke directly into Legato's mind, his voice firm, smooth like silk and absolutely compelling. Even if he were given the choice, Legato knew he would never disobey that voice.
"There must be something…"
::Nothing!:: The voice boomed in Legato's mind, the raw in emotion shaking the fragile fringes of his consciousness. Legato felt the first tendrils of helplessness and fear grip him. His breath stopped, and his eyes grew wide as the very edges of his shields began to evaporate.
Then it was over and Knives stopped his assault, leaving Legato shocked and frightened. Never had he seen or felt such uncontrollable rage in his master, and never had Knives ever seized him in such a manner, even when his master had been furious. Legato remembered to breathe again, and he crumpled to the ground clutching the sides of his head, barely able to comprehend how close Knives had come to destroying him utterly.
::I will summon you again when I need you,:: came the voice again, this time firm and even, without any trace of the fury of just a few seconds before.
"Yes…master," Legato replied, his voice hardly a whisper. This was the first time that Knives had truly frightened him. His mind was cold ice, frozen and still, his thoughts having trouble coalescing amidst the pounding of his heart. Nevertheless, he was reluctant to leave his master. Knives was in a worse state than he, having lost half his body. That thought jolted Legato from his shock and he pulled himself back up to his feet. "If you need anything…"
::I will call,:: Knives said, and said no more.
Legato nodded his acquiescence and left, knowing that Knives was already on the way to healing, and that he only be a hindrance to this process if he stayed.
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Legato spent the subsequent days alone, trying to fill the hours with work to take his mind off Knives' condition. He had tried many times to enter into the Plant chamber to make sure that Knives was doing all right, but all times the computerized door refused him entry, and he'd had no choice but to turn back to his own section of the ship and find something to whittle away the hours.
He was productive at first, re-reading all of what little the ship's computer database had on Plant biology (it did not tell him anything useful), and spent the rest of the time working to strengthen his powers. Even cleaning up the debris he had created when rushing Knives down to the engineering deck had filled only half a day. As the days turned into weeks, Legato realized there were simply no things he wished to do other than be with his master, but the wounded Plant had given him orders not to be disturbed unless under dire circumstances. He had made it clear that he did not require Legato until he was summoned.
Legato was thankful his master did not comment when just a few weeks after the July incident, his desperation became unbearable and he moved his things into a room on the same deck as Knives' engine room. It had originally been a small room for the ship's engineers to take small breaks during their long night shifts, but Legato had decided to take up residence there. He had no possessions to speak of save his clothes and his bedsheets, all of which had been relocated in only one trip.
It was here that Legato first heard his master speak to himself in periods of madness, and at night he would often wake to Knives' screams as the entire ship shook with the force of his anger. His voice was loud enough to travel through the metal doors that served as the entrance to the vast engine room, sharp enough even to penetrate the walls that lay between him and his servant. In those times Legato would rush out of bed hardly dressed and he would press himself against the door which never opened for him and hope, beg, and pray that Knives' fit would soon pass.
Yet other times, Legato would wake to a piercing sense of urgency that twisted his insides and made him want to roll over and retch. The aching loneliness that followed would propel him off the floor and into the corridor, stumbling toward where Knives lay moaning his brother's name over and over again. The door would open for him then, and it was not rare that it would be days before he would emerge from the room again, his head ringing so loudly that the whisper of "Vash" wouldn't disappear from his senses for days on end.
One night, Legato was about to lie down for a few hours of sleep when Knives summoned him, a sharp stab into his mind that made him jump involuntarily, his heartbeat accelerating wildly. Reeling out of bed from the sudden disorientation, Legato made his way into the corridor. He recovered quickly from the nausea of Knives' sudden intrusion by supporting himself on the door frame and stubbornly telling his own body and mind to get used to the feeling.
He closed his eyes as the world stopped spinning, and he calmed enough to reach his mind forward in Knives' direction. Knives always met him halfway, for Legato dared not approach his Master's mind without explicit permission, and even then he dared not come too close. He formed a link with Knives after feeling his master reach out to him, grasping that proffered bond with eager firmness.
::Master,:: Legato said through their connection, his mind outwardly calm. He already knew what Knives needed—merely his presence—and he was happy to give that, though he knew somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind that it was someone else that Knives wanted.
The doors opened smoothly as he stepped into the engine room, hastily making his way down the narrow aisle, not even sparing a thought for the other Plants that lined his path. Legato ascended the small steps which led to the platform Knives rested on. He pressed himself against the glass, his hands spread wide to bask in the warmth that radiated from his master. He placed his cheek against the glassy curve of the bulb's surface and smiled. The feeling reminded him of a time long ago, before he had been born, when the only thing he had known was warmth.
::I am here, Master.::
Knives sent no more through their connection and the desperation and loneliness in the back of Legato's mind faded away to mere memory. Legato let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes. He was not yet adept at hiding his own feelings, or those of devotion and adoration for his master. Legato seemed to be completely oblivious the small grin on his face, and Knives did not say a word to his precious protégé about it.
With his eyes closed, Legato missed the smirk on Knives' lips. It disappeared when Legato opened his eyes, gazing with worry at his master's maimed form, none the wiser for what expression had just passed his master's face.
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Every morning after his meal, Legato would visit the medical bay where Knives had ordered him to keep a close eye on that arm. It had been lying on the specimen table for several weeks untouched. Legato would have liked to think it's previous owner had perished in July, but the tenacity which Knives had clung to his desire was more than enough of a sign that Vash was still alive out there, somewhere. Half the ship's medical scanning equipment was trained on the, programmed to alert Knives and Legato if something went awry. Months had passed, and Legato had not even seen it twitch, or the machines give so much as a peep.
The computer readouts told him there was nothing usual about the arm. It was simply an arm. A cursory examination of its cellular composition showed that it did not differ much from cells of typical human constitution, but a more detailed investigation revealed that while the cells certainly looked human, there was something fundamentally different about them. Legato had a hard time pinning down exactly what it was. The cellular structures were identical and they still served identical functions. There was just more activity; a flurry of activity in fact. Activity that happened regardless of whether the arm got its proper nutrients. What the computer equipment did not realize that was very plain to anybody who saw it lying there, was that the arm had been severed for quite some time, and was still managing to remain alive.
Legato's eyes narrowed as he looked away from the computer screen to stare at the pale thing lying on the table next to him. His eyes traced the contours of the scars, some long and ugly wrought with hidden metal implants, others small and pink, barely detectable to the naked eye. A million scars, representing a million questions—scars with memories and experiences. They couldn't not possibly have come from whatever had sundered the arm from its previous owner—they seemed too old for that—so they have come from whatever human scum Vash was always mingling with.
Legato curled his lip in distaste. He did not understand why Knives' twin insisted on mixing with very people who had given him those scars. If just his arm looked like that, Legato shuddered to imagine how scarred the rest of Vash's body must be. Like Knives before the accident, Legato was untouched, his body smooth and untainted by any human hand. He thought back to his mother and sister, dim but detailed memories in his mind. He was no more connected to them than he was to the piece of machinery he sat in front of, but nevertheless he did feel lingering feelings for them, a fondness for Ismay's kind smile and the smell of his mother's cooking. They were to him some fantasy, some dream that he had awakened from long ago, but one that he would never forget no matter how much he tried. He could not forget how the human men had touched them, how the blood had stained their dresses, and how they had died. He could not forget the terrible cruelty, and he did not forget what may have happened to him if his powers had not manifested themselves.
Why did Vash not abandon them?
Legato did not understand, and the arm yielded him to answers just lying on its table in the flood of the computer's too-bright light. He sat and contemplated it as he was often wont to do in the mornings, but as usual all he got was only more questions. It was heading on into noon before Legato sighed and took one last look at it, curiosity blooming within him. At the moment he had things to attend to, but perhaps he would return later in the day and take a closer look.
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::Master,:: Legato whispered, one night. He had already spent one night and one day by Knives' side, pressed flush against the glass, the closest that he would ever get to his master. He ached to crawl inside the bulb and set himself beside his master, to touch him softly, to hold him, to bask in that warm glow, and know that he was truly blessed. ::I want to be closer to you.::
There was long moment of silence. Legato had given up and figured his master was asleep before a reply came.
::There are a few ways,:: Knives said.
::What are they?::
Another long pause.
::They will come to you if you think about them, Legato.::
Legato frowned. Nothing came.
::Be patient.::
::Yes, Master.::
::You are dismissed.::
Legato opened his mouth to protest, to tell his master he liked being here, but he dropped that thought quickly and shut his mouth. Knives was never pleased when his orders were questioned. After all, Knives had long since stabilized and had kept Legato around for half a day more than Legato had originally anticipated staying.
"Yes," he whispered, rising from the glassy bulb and shivering slightly at how cold the air seemed to be after Knives' pleasant heat. He walked out of the engine room, wondering when Knives would summon him next. Sometimes his master would call him twice a day, other times the silence would stretch on for days or weeks before Knives would contact him again. In the meantime, Legato resolved to solve the question. On the way to the training room that afternoon, Legato stopped by the medical bay again. As usual all was quiet.
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Legato rolled the chair over to the operation table once more and stared at the arm, naked, pale, sterilized. He could not quite find it in him to believe in what he was about to do. It had occurred to him not two days ago when he had been passing by the infirmary on his way to the lower levels of the ship. It had been an elegant solution, so simple that he wondered how and why it hadn't occurred to him before.
His master did not push him. It did not matter whetherhe did it today or tomorrow. It was already inevitable, and Legato would do it when he was ready. Was he ready today? He had made all the preparations.
::This is my gift to you, faithful Legato,:: Knives said, touching his mind with tenderness, a soft caress that made Legato shiver. ::Did you not say you wished to serve me forever?::
::I did, Master, and I still do.::
Legato stared at the laser sitting on the table, within reach of his right hand. He could not admit that he was afraid, that was a weakness that Knives would not tolerate. He must not be afraid. To be unsure and uncertain, that was all right. But he must never fear. Legato took a deep breath and calmed himself. He had suffered much worse pain when he had shared in Knives' suffering transporting him back to the ship, this would be nothing.
There was no going back now, no room for mistakes.
Legato removed his shirt, lifting his two arms up over his head and peeling the piece of cloth from him. He tossed it on another table behind him and took a deep breath.
Knives spoke to him once again. ::When you are finished, you must bind the wound. It will regenerate itself into you.::
::Yes, Master.::
Wiping all thoughts from his mind, Legato took the laser in his hand and turned it on to full strength. Here was the moment of absolute concentration, where he'd have to count on all his courage to pull him through.
He lifted the edge of the laser to his skin, and immediately felt it prickle, saw smoke rising from the blackened skin. He clamped his mouth shut, grinding his teeth to keep from the scream he instinctively felt must be coming, but as he slid through the first few layers of flesh, he felt no desire to cry out. He kept his hand steady as he continued, the instrument slowly burning its way through his flesh, thankful for the strong analgesic he had injected himself with. Sweat beaded on his forehead, as his hand moved calmly slicing through muscle and into bone.
Blood was leaking, pouring from his wound, falling over his clothes and staining the cloth covering the operating table, but still he kept going, half his mind marveling at the way his flesh oozed blood, at how pink and soft it seemed to be, how grey his bones were. Half of him recoiled in disgust, appalled at how he could be severing his own limb with such clinical detachment.
Knives was lost, buried away somewhere in the back of his mind, unreachable and perhaps not wanting to touch him in his endeavor. This was another of Knives' tasks, another one of his tests. Legato had passed them all so far, so he knew he could do this one. This was the ultimate test that would prove that all the years that Knives had trained him and cared for him had been well spent.
Legato finished the bone and once more the laser went into flesh. He was losing blood too rapidly, the red liquid having soaked through the table and dripping onto the floor. His hand was already drenched, no all three. He was having trouble holding onto the laser because it was becoming slippery, but he was almost through. The laser slid easily through the last of his flesh, through his skin, and then it was finished, and his left arm fell to the floor of the infirmary with a wet slopping sound. The laser fell with it, as Legato's loose fingers dropped it.
He stared for a moment at how perfectly clean the cut was, how smooth and unlike any amputations he had ever seen previously. Lost in a daze, he looked to the arm on the table, wet with his own blood, and picked it up with red-stained fingers. It was heavy and larger than his own, but he had no time to contemplate that now.
He placed it flush against his wound and screamed, completely unprepared for the pain of severed nerves inflamed by the sudden contact of flesh against flesh. Legato gasped, his mouth opening in agony. How could the painkiller have failed? His left arm quivered uncontrollably, and Legato watched aghast as the arm itself seemed to transform, the skin turning into liquid and crawling up to his shoulder with all the pain as if it had been set on fire. Time slowed as Legato toppled from his seat, in the throes of so much pain he could hardly move. His throat had gone dry and hoarse and still he was screaming as the fire spread across his body, leaving no part of him untouched. It seemed almost an eternity before Legato's mind clawed its way to consciousness, mobilizing his body enough to grab a roll of bandages that had fallen from the operating table. The intense pain had subsided, and though the agony still pervaded his senses, he found himself at least able to move. The arm had ceased to shift and change, and he found himself with an ugly red scar where the limb had joined his stump. He grasped the bandage with the fingers of his own hand, digits that responded slowly and dumbly to his commands, finally able to tear off a strip and wrap it around his arm.
Sleep was long in coming to him as Legato lay on the floor of the infirmary, having exhausted the last of his strength. He slept for two days as the puddle of blood dried into his hair, turning it a dark, matted black. He dreamt of a childhood that was foreign to his own, he of looking out windows that stretched into a near-endless blackness punctuated only by the pinpoint light of stars. He dreamt he loved the crimson hue of germaniums, and that he had once loved and lost a woman whose dark hair and kind smile stirred such feelings of happiness that he could not but help break out into smiles whenever she turned her laughing face to him. He dreamt of crashing into a planet, of feeling the heat of atmospheric entry through the hull of the ship, watching in disbelief as similar ships were torn asunder in a great cataclysmic explosion.
When Legato finally awoke, he found that the pain had eased enough that it was only a dull pain. He tried moving the arm, but it refused to obey his command. Nevertheless, he could feel that it was still alive and that it was making itself a part of him. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and sat up, his left side feeling heavier than it had before. Dried blood caked the floor and the operating table, but nevertheless he stumbled out, his skin and clothes stained an unpleasant brown. Legato smiled as he made his way to the engine room, remembering his triumph and the dreams he had seen. They were a part of him now, almost as real as he had experienced it himself.
::Well done.:: Knives touched his mind once more, his mental gesture soothing the lingering doubts in Legato's heart. He quieted the turbulent waters of Legato's mind and he brought them close, caressing his servant.
Legato entered the engine room, his uncertain steps carrying him to the far end where the largest and most glorious of all the Plants lie in wait for him. Knives was regenerating, but slowly. Years, perhaps, it would take for him to regain his old strength. Legato fell in front of it, his right hand coming up to embrace the glass. He rested his cheek on its surface.
::Thank you, Master.::Legato said before he fell to the side and succumbed to another deep slumber.
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Legato woke again from a fitful sleep of strange dreams of his Master and hauled himself to his feet. It appeared to him that Knives too was slumbering, for he received no greeting or acknowledgement that he was awake. Not knowing what else to do, Legato made his way down the length of the room, through the rows of faintly glowing Plants. They were dimmer than he remembered previously, and he could see through their light and make out the figures inside. They piqued his tired curiosity, but the fatigue won out and he stumbled out the door, wishing his master good dreams.
He did not remember how he made it through the few corridors to his own chamber, but somehow he did with a dead weight at his side and blood still caking his pants and his hair. He peeled himself of his clothing and collapsed into the shower, sitting on the cool floor tiles as warm water rushed over him, plastering dark hair to his forehead and neck. The water in the shower ran dark red, flakes dislodging from his skin and floating down the drain. He did not know how long he sat there, his back against the wall, his head bent over as he leant forward and simply let himself be covered in water. He might even have fallen asleep, or he might have just been lost in empty thought.
Legato moved again when the water had run clear for long time. He stared at his left arm, the wound still covered in a bandage, which had eerily been the only part of him not covered in dried blood. He knew he should exchange the bandage for a fresh one for fear of infection, but all he could do was simply stare at it, not sure if the thin ribbony grin he had glimpsed beneath it had been part of his dream. It had attached itself the moment he had pressed it to his freshly severed stump, but nevertheless he could not discount the fear that it had all been a dream, and within a few days his body would reject the foreign limb. Perhaps it would simply fall off.
Screwing up his courage and closing his eyes, he moved his good arm, his one and only arm, and brought its fingers to wrap about the very edges of the tape that held the gauze together. He ripped it away cleanly, biting his lip to hold back the scream that never came. Beneath the bandage was new skin, an even red line between his old flesh and his new one, a little shiny in the light of the bathroom and soft to the gentle touch of his fingers, exactly as it had looked when he had first wrapped it in bandages and passed into blessed sleep. It did not feel like something foreign, though he knew it was.
Legato sat for many long hours with water pouring continuously from the showerhead, washing his hair back to it usual blue sheen and cleansing his skin back to its pale pallor. He caressed his new hand, trying to accustom himself to its weight by his side, to its feel beneath his fingers. It did not yet respond at all to him, but he was relieved that it was able to support its own weight. He brought the arm up slowly and hit the button to shut off the shower water. The arm landed back on the tile, twisted to the side. Legato didn't have the energy to move it back into place.
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When he was not by Knives' side the next few days, Legato explored his arm. He would touch it gingerly, puzzled that it responded, that he felt his own fingers tracing its skin. The scars on it seemed brighter to him than usual, rivers of pink tissue branching into smaller rivers, on and on and on, crisscrossed, intersecting, running without a beginning and without an end. It was hideous and beautiful at the same time, testament to both the strength and the weakness of its previous owner.
He pressed his lips against the underside of the wrist, gently biting around the rope-like tendons. The sensation was sharp, clear, and strong. It made him shiver. Here the skin was undamaged, untarnished, and surprisingly smooth. He kissed it, marveling at the blue Y-shaped vein, which had in only a matter of days regenerated and integrated into his own circulatory system. Their blood was mingled. Vash was a part of him.
Legato stared, still amazed that such a thing was possible.
He spread the fingers out wide, the hand obeying his command. He placed his hands together by the palm, observing the strange asymmetry. Vash's was hand larger than his, more ungainly, the fingers thick and full of little scars, so unlike the creamy pale skin of his own slender fingers. But there was a power in Vash's hand, in the large-boned palm, there was a power in his grip that Legato did not possess. Perhaps it was the years that Vash had weathered, or perhaps it was the harshness of the sun and the sand and the scarcity of water. Or perhaps Vash was just different, a superior breed than that of Legato's own, an inherent balance that could not be tipped.
Legato stared more at the hand as he lay it on the table beside his own. It had the full range of sensation his own arm had, and it was even more sensitive to temperature, to touch. To pain. He bit into it, and it tasted different. The sharp sting in his mind that told him he was drawing blood was different from the sting biting into his right arm. It was all just…strange. Odd.
Something belonging to someone else entirely had been grafted onto his body, and there it seemed pleased to settle. It had already adapted to his function. It would swing when he walked, as his old arm did and was not ungainly. Though it was physically larger and possessed more muscle than his old arm, it did not feel heavier as he would have expected it to. Save for the red line just above the elbow where Vash's arm joined him, there was no physiological indication that the arm had not belonged to him all along.
The arm lay innocently beside his, no sign of rebellion. No sign that anything untoward had happened to it. It simply acted like this was where it had always been. A part of Legato.
Legato stared at it rose from his seat. The arm helped him push the chair back under table, responding naturally to his commands.
::It is your own,:: said Knives, voice interjecting smoothly into his thoughts as if he too, had always been there. ::It is my gift to you.::
::Yes, Master,::Legato replied, closing his eyes and sucking in a breath as Knives sent him a feeling of warm reassurance. The pleasure of it faded as Knives receded, but Legato held onto it for as long as he could before it flickered out entirely, leaving him once more dull, tired, and with another man's limb.
He had to learn to treat it as his own. Otherwise, he knew, he would never be able to master it fully, nor unlock its secrets.
Legato looked at it again, holding both arms out before him. A bizarre thing, this arm, he mused, but just another thing to add to his already growing list of eccentricities. Blue hair, golden eyes, another man's arm.
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Legato woke one morning to Knives' summons. Knives had begun to call him more frequently, oftentimes in the middle of the night or right before the crack of dawn. He never gave the young blue-haired a man a reason for waking him, but Legato never questioned his Master, not even the day that Knives shook so violently in his pod that Legato feared the fragile glass would crack or shatter, spilling his beloved master onto the ground. He failed to imagine what would have happened then, as the mere concept of losing Knives, of the man sliding ungracefully in a half-burned, broken lump onto the floor was ungraspable to him. He had pressed himself as tight as he could to the bulb then, as if by merely being close to his Master he could quell the quaking. And it had worked, much to his relief and pleasure.
So when Legato was wakened by Knives' voice he did not hesitate to fling the covers aside and stumble immediately to the floor. Legato fell hard, the sudden rush of the ground in his vision unexpected. Only by his instincts did he save himself a worse fall by catching his weight on his arms.
::What is the matter?:: came Knives' voice sharply, no doubt having sensed the sudden alarm in his servant.
::I …I fell, Master.::
Legato did not need to the wait for the sharp rap of Knives' displeasure.
Legato was not supposed to fall. He was surprised himself as he stared at his dull, mottled reflection in the metal floor panel, he was not a clumsy man. Quite the contrary, he believed, for he had mastered the eloquence, intelligence, and grace as befitting a servant of his Master. He did not fall. He did not stumble, and this was the first time since his childhood that he felt his knees smart. It was a much smaller pain than that he had felt before, but nevertheless the sensation caught him off his guard.
He moved a leg to bring himself up from the floor and fell again, once more catching himself only with his hands.
Legato's breath caught with surprise but he did not panic. He kept his mind still and quiet as it made its way down the logical routes of thought accustomed to.
::What has happened?::
Legato swallowed, forcing his mental voice into a semblance of calmness. ::I cannot feel my feet, Master.:: He was aware how foolish he sounded. His limbs had fallen asleep before, often when his body would maneuver itself into a strange position during his slumber or when he could sit a little strangely in front of the computer console for extended periods of time. But there had always been the pins and needles, the prickling of his flesh as blood slowly worked its way back into his system, but there was nothing there. His feet were dangling from his ankles, useless lumps of flesh. If he was in fact wiggling his toes, he couldn't tell. He wasn't feeling anything from them.
Perhaps he'd slept in a strange position, though he could think of no position that would incapacitate both. Or perhaps…
::I see,:: Knives' voice broke into his thoughts, his tone calmly neutral.
Legato waited, but no further response came. Knives seemed to be contemplating something. Whether or not there was a serious problem with him, Knives' silence reminded him why he was awake in the first place. Legato took a deep breath and opened his eyes, hauling himself determinedly to his feet, though he could not feel them. He stood and found that he didn't fall over so as long as he leaned against the wall. He took the first cautious step, trusting that his feet would not respond but would nevertheless carry his weight. He limped awkwardly down the corridor to Knives' chamber where the man was waiting.
His stomach rumbled along the way, having recovered from its plummeting trip. It decided that it was hungry, but Legato told it to wait until the appropriate time for a meal.
Later that day, Legato found his meal to be more gratifying than usual.
End You and Me