A/N: So sorry for the short chapter folks. Especially since it took me so long to get this posted. But it just seemed like such a GOOD spot to cut off... (There is a reason I am known among my friends as "Queen of the Irritating Cliff-hangers"). Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. There will be more coming, but I cannot guarantee when, as we are hitting into our busy month at work. When I get a chance, I promise to update this and other stories as well.

Please just hang in there with me. Thanks!

Ormandria

Knives stopped in mid-step, his long, lanky body resting against the stairs railing, as hatred foamed inside his mind. In all his years, he had never felt so many different emotions from himself, let alone from people that had been years dead, mostly by his own hand. Actually, truth be told, it was by his brother's hand, but since he had been the one that had forced that hand, it was technically his fault. It was almost enough to make him wretch at the very thought of violence. Still, he could not keep his mind off the thought of how beautiful Eleesa's head would look on the top of a very sharp, very pointed, silver spike right at this very moment.

"Go ahead and try," Eleesa paused, turning toward him, as though she had read his thoughts. Then again, perhaps she had. It wouldn't have surprised him at this point.

"You know what will happen if you do," she continued.

He thought of all the times over the last few days that he had tried to do something that she didn't wish him to do, of the leash that now hung invisible around his neck and prevented him from following through with such thoughts. But that was not the reason he didn't try this time. That was not what stopped him.

The moment he gave serious thought to the prospect of her head on a spear, he was assailed by the memory of hundreds of disembodied, dying screams coursing their way through his brain. Knives doubled over in renewed agony, collapsing on the stairs.

"Knives!" Eleesa jumped up quickly to catch him so that he didn't tumble down the stairs. Knives caught himself first though and shrank violently away from her touch.

"Leave me!" he barked. "Just leave me alone!"

She stepped back, looking at him for a moment before nodding and making her way back down the stairs again.

"I've made some tea. It will do you good," commented at the bottom of the stairs in a soft voice.

Knives finally made it to the kitchen a few minutes later, after regaining his composure and wiping the mixture of sweat and tears from his face. He noted that Eleesa already had a bandage for his hand out, as well as a wet wash cloth and soap to clean and disinfect the wound first. He sat down, allowing her to minister to the tender cut without so much as a word passing between them. When she was done she pressed a cup of steaming brown liquid into his hand.

"What is this?" he asked.

"Linden tea," she replied. "It will help calm your nerves and settle your stomach."

"My nerves and stomach are fine, thank you," he remarked defensively.

"Oh really?" Her eyes swept down to his shaking hands. Knives snorted in irritation and all but slammed the cup down on the table.

"When are you going to learn that you can't hide anything from me Knives?"

"When are you going to learn that I want you out of my head?" he smiled sarcastically.

"What you want, and what you'll get are two completely different things. So deal."

He looked away in annoyance.

"They had your gun," Eleesa remarked casually, sipping at her own tea.

"Yes," Knives replied in a dry voice. He looked back at the drink in front of him and grudgingly admitted to himself that he was thirsty. Shaking his head he decided that there were more going to be more important battles in store in the future and to waste energy on this one was inherently stupid. He picked up the cup and took a long sip of the tea.

Eleesa had been right. He had not realized just how badly his stomach had felt before. He also felt his muscles relax and the tension in the back of his neck started to unwind a bit.

"It's good," he said shortly, still not totally recovered from the incident on the stairs.

'Damn it!' he thought bitterly. If he had thought his emotions were a wreck before, they were nothing compared to now. Everything floating through his head was getting to him and he wasn't even sure which parts of it were his own anymore and which were others.

"So what are you going to do about it?" Eleesa asked.

"Do about what?"

"Them. Your gun. What are you going to do?"

'That's right,' he mused. All this time he thought that his brother had taken the guns with him, but he must have left them in the desert instead. The urge to go after the gang was great. That some no account, arrogant imbecile of a human thought he could threaten Knives with his own gun was unacceptable. Once free of this nightmare he'd hunt them down and …. Memories of people clawing at him rose up, churning his stomach again and threatening to unleash a new round of bile upon the floor. Knives quickly pushed all thoughts of revenge out of his mind in self-defense.

"I'd rather not talk about it," he cringed, speaking through gritted teeth.

Eleesa nodded in satisfaction. "Very well. I won't bring it up again."

She tilted her own cup back and drained the remainder of her tea, then stood up, getting ready to leave.

"There's more tea on the stove if you want it. I really do recommend that you have at least one more cup. After that you should probably get some rest. You look like you could use it. I've got chores to take care of."

With that she left Knives sitting alone in the kitchen. He waited until he heard the back door open and close before leaning his head down into his hands laughing bitterly at his predicament.

"So Mitch, where are you from?" Meryl asked as the trio enjoyed another round of sandwiches.

"Augusta originally. But my folks moved us to December when I was about 5." This, to Lagur's benefit, was not a lie. He had lived with his family up until the time he turned nineteen, at which point he had gone off with Kreeker and Kable. He knew that Kable would through a fit if he heard Lagur using real facts about himself, but he always found it much easier to lie about a town he knew then to lie about one he didn't.

"Meryl and I have been to Augusta!" Millie cried excitedly. "And it wasn't even that long ago."

"Oh? How does it look?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Not so good anymore," she laughed nervously. "It was sort of in ruins at the time."

"Oh," Lagur looked down, unable to hide his disappointment. "I had heard the rumors, but I had hoped it wasn't true."

"Um, here!" Meryl shouted, eager to change the subject. It wouldn't do if he started to recall that most of the rumors revolved around Vash destroying the town. "A toast to living new lives in new places!" She raised her glass.

"Luckily no one was hurt though," Millie continued to smile insipidly as she ignore her friend.

"Millie!" Meryl nudged her in the ribs, and spoke through gritted teeth. "I'm sure that Mr. Johanssen doesn't want to hear all that."

"Oh, yeah," Millie laughed. "Sorry about that."

"No problem," Lagur grinned. 'Damn it,' he thought to himself. The more he talked to these girls, the more he liked them. Especially Millie. She reminded him of mother in a strange way. Many people had said many things about Lagur Nash, but not a single one was ever able to say that he didn't love his mother.

Thus it was that over the course of the day, as he got to know them more and more, guilt over his deception had begun to assail him. He didn't want to do anything that might cause these girls heartache. Yet that was what exactly what he was doing, wasn't it? Lagur sighed as he took another bit of sandwich.

'What a hell of a time to develop a conscious,' he thought irritably, while aloud he merely said in a quiet, thoughtful voice, "We should be in New Maine soon."

Millie and Meryl both nodded in agreement.

Vash leaned forward over the fountain and stretched his hand toward the small red ball that now floated in its water. "Almost," he gasped. "Almost …. Got it!"

He sprang up enthusiastically, ball in hand and held high above his head. A loud chorus of cheers echoed from the crowd of children surrounding him.

"Okay, who gets it?" he asked with a broad smile. Several of the children began bouncing up and down claiming the sphere for their own team. Finally Vash ordered them to separate from each other so that both teams were the same distance from each other and him. The plan was to toss the ball straight in between the teams and whoever got to it first, got to it first.

"What about you?" asked Thomas. "Aren't you going to play?"

"I'm afraid I'm a little worn out right now, so I thought I might just sit this game out," Vash laughed wearily. He could see the wheels in Thomas head starting to turn, so he quickly added "But I'll be sitting right here and once I'm rested, I'll be more than happy to join in the next game."

"Okay," Thomas shrugged, satisfied. Vash let out a heavy sigh of relief as he tossed the ball up and out, and the two teams tore at it. Once that was done, he let himself collapse on the edge of the fountain to rest. He was extremely tired and had gotten hardly any sleep the night before. The odd phone call, coupled with another, almost more crippling, bout of fear for Knives had made sleep virtually impossible.

His mind ran over what few facts he had. He knew that Eleesa had seemed extremely nice to him and everyone in New Maine adored her. He also knew that she was part plant and was, if possible, even older than he and Knives. He also knew that for whatever reason, Knives had decided not to kill her, just yet anyway, and that she appeared to have very little, of any at all, fear of his brother, no matter how psychotic he acted. And Knives could act very psychotic when the mood struck.

He also knew that Knives was not doing as well as he tried to pretend. He had sounded very put out and even (dare he think it?), a bit more unhinged than usual during that last phone call. Still, he claimed that he was all right, and Eleesa had sounded fine, so did he really have any cause to be concerned? Somehow, he couldn't stop thinking that he did. He just couldn't figure out what that cause was.

"Ow!" The red ball bounced off Vash's forehead and back onto the ground.

"Oops," said Arnold, captain of the second team, as he ran up to retrieve the ball. "Sorry, Mr. Vash."

"That's okay," Vash laughed, rubbing his head. "To tell you the truth, I have a bit of a hard head anyway."

"You sure are funny Mr. Vash," Arnold laughed as he took the ball and ran back to his team.

Vash sighed. If only he truly felt like that. He had once, though it seemed like ages ago. He had to face facts. He hadn't felt like himself since… well, since Wolfwood had died. Wolfwood had been his best friend, right from the get go. It had been hard for him to deal with his friends last minute confession, that Wolfwood had been a member of the Gun-ho Guns, but not nearly as difficult as dealing with the knowledge that he was never coming back.

Even when he had admitted that he had been sent by Knives and Legato to spy on Vash, he still got up and defended him. He died so that Vash would have a chance to realize his dream of reforming Knives and "saving the world" has Wolfwood would always put it.

The thought of his friend cheered Vash up a bit, in a strange sort of way. He couldn't help but picture the easy-going man with a lax grin on his face laughing at his predicament.

'If it means that much to you than just go back there and find out what the hell is going on, stupid!' he could almost hear Wolfwood say.

He was about to do just that, phone call or no, when he stopped dead in his tracks. He had no sooner gotten up and turned toward the hotel, when he saw something that caused his caused his heart to skip a beat.

There, in the middle of the street behind him, awash in the late afternoon sun, stood two extremely familiar looking figures. One waved joyously at him, shouting his name, while the other, the shorter of the two, simply stood stalk still, staring at him. After a few moments of neither of them moving, or saying anything, Meryl Strife dropped her bag and moved toward him.

Vash couldn't believe it. He had not expected them to come here. The fact that they had worried him. He didn't want them anywhere near Knives, but at the same time, he was suddenly and acutely aware that he had missed them both more than he had realized. A smile spread across his face as he watched Meryl stumble toward him, her eyes wide with wonder. He could almost see the tears flowing from her eyes, in joyous relief at having found him alive and well. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the giant bear hug that he just knew was coming.

"You jerk!"

The punch sent him reeling to the ground as Vash looked up, confused, and more than a little afraid as Meryl Strife, her fists clenched and muscles tightened, towered over him, the heat of her anger singeing the very air around her and her eyes glowing eerily red.

In that one brief moment, Vash the Stampede saw his life flash before his very eyes ….

It needed a lot of work.