Disclaimer in previous chapters. Please see Author's Notes at the end.
WARNING: Contains manga spoilers concerning the character Tessla.
- . -
For a long time she stood there. Watching him.
Just like he'd been watching her.
No, her mind corrected. Not the same at all.
She wasn't holding a five pound piece of stone.
It lay somewhat near him, though to his credit he had curled away from it in his sleep. It was round, and gray, and even if he had merely dropped it the stone would have done enough damage to seriously injure her.
He had meant to seriously injure her.
He might have meant to kill her.
Still she stared, uncertainty darkening her emotions, masking them from her. He was asleep, really asleep, unlike she had been. He didn't know she was standing over him as he had stood over her not two hours ago. He didn't know she was caught in the same indecision.
How could he? How could he even think it? What would it accomplish? He'd be all alone, alone on this planet of sand and rock and dust. Alone with the paltry handful of humans that had survived, that leaned on their sisters even more heavily than they had on the ship. Soon those humans would succumb to the elements, soon they would be no more.
Soon enough, they would be alone together. He couldn't stop that, now.
He couldn't take back what she'd done.
What had he been thinking?
Part of her wanted to know. To shake him awake and scream at him. Part of her wanted to hit him, to pound it into his thick skull that they were brothers! Brothers didn't act like this! How long could Vash continue on this way? Continue to wrestle with killing his own twin?
How long could she let him? How long would it take him to decide?
He'd fallen asleep crying, the moisture had captured particles of sand in the air and they lay across his visible cheek in a tell-tail trail. He was starting to shiver slightly as the air temperature continued to drop, and of course up on the top of this outcropping he was laying directly in the chill wind.
How stupid could Vash possibly be? Did he want to catch pneumonia in a place where they couldn't give him antibiotics? Did he want to freeze?
She watched him shift in his sleep, wrapping his arms around himself. But he made no move to roll over, or open his eyes. No move to fix the problem.
Maybe he wanted to be cold. So cold he couldn't feel anymore.
Numb.
She turned on her heels, casting a baleful look at the rock as she made her careful way down the high outcropping. It had been carved by wind, not water, and probably had a vein of some base metal in it, which was why it hadn't eroded with the rest of its brother rocks.
She slid the rest of the way down a flat piece of slate, hoping the noise hadn't woken him, and searched in the darkness for his pack. It wasn't hard to find, lying just next to hers. There'd been no point in continuing that night, and they'd both agreed this was a good place to get out of the wind.
She pulled his thermal blanket out of the pack, shaking it free of sand before folding it and tucking it into her shirt to warm it. The climb back up the rock wasn't as hard as it had been the first time, now that she'd found her way up once already.
He was still there. He hadn't woken.
She took a deep breath, watching him sleep. He didn't sense her there, as she had sensed him. He wasn't aware of all the things that went on when he wasn't looking.
She pulled the blanket out quietly, trying to minimize the amount of noise the fabric made. Then she spread it out quickly and dropped it over him, so that it would keep as much of the heat from her as possible.
You don't get to be numb, she thought at the sleeping figure, watching him shift slightly as the warmth registered.
You don't deserve it.
She sat on the very rock that might have been intended to be the weapon that killed her that night, and she wrapped her arms around herself. And she watched him. Watched him roll more fully onto his side, now seeking out a comfortable place among the rocks and sand. The night was more than half over, which meant he'd probably sleep the rest of it, if not into the morning. She knew she should take his lead and get some sleep, but it was a long time before she moved to do so.
If I don't get to be numb, neither do you.
When she backed out, felt harder, smoother dirt beneath her heel, she wasn't surprised to find her arms were still wrapped around her.
Those poor boys.
She glanced upwards, at the many floors of buildings above her, letting the familiar, acrid air burn her nostrils. Once again, she'd left one of the rooms, and was back in the city. She'd traveled down many stories, now. The broken Plant was barely visible through the dim entryways and the empty clotheslines that stretched between the squalid buildings.
The lower she went, the more the doors were harder to open. They weren't getting the benefit of the wind, they were just accumulating filth and muck and ash. It had taken her the better part of a half-hour to clear the last one. And it had been the best-looking one in the corridor.
She took a good look around, rubbing her arms unconsciously. She wasn't sure there was a lower level than this. The sky was a few tiny rectangular patches surrounded by red, browns, and now deeper, hot blacks. It could have been her distance into the huge city, but it seemed as though the sky had brightened at some point, the wind had died down. Fewer pieces of debris had been raining down at her.
Maybe it was morning.
Maybe the wind wasn't so angry anymore.
She glanced to her right, letting her eyes trail over the oddly piled refuse, the mounds of dirt and sand and ash that had trailed down the sides of the buildings above to pool here. Like a sewer draining, but without any water to wash anything away.
The doorframes were all equally spaced in this hallway, two absolutely rectangular, flat buildings that mirrored each other. As did most of the other hallways, these aisles ended in solid walls of other buildings, allowing a left and a right but never a forward. It gave a person an impression of a maze, but there seemed to be some innate order she just couldn't put her finger on.
And that was weird, she decided. She felt like she would normally have been able to see the pattern without a problem.
She picked a direction at random – left, this time – and started walking, looking at the doorframes to her right and left. Some were so rotted she wasn't sure she couldn't just kick the doors in, but something told her that damaging these already blighted places would just cause the entire city to tumble down upon itself. She was nearly to the foundation of this broken city, and while it didn't seem to her as though a full collapse could do more damage than had already been done, she knew she didn't want to be on the bottom floor when everything caved in on top of her.
An atrophied piece of the doorframe to her right cracked and fell, apparently in response to the air she displaced as she walked. She stopped, staring at it a moment. This door had once been wood, and it had been so worn by the trails of dirt as the city above it had decomposed that she could literally see through several large holes. Curiosity got the better of her, and she peered in.
While it had appeared as lightless as all the other rooms before she stepped in, as she stared into that blackness, gradually she made out a tiny pinprick of light. She focused, squinting her eyes until they felt like they were crossed, and she could just see . . . something moving. Bright light, and blue, and . . something moving.
She leaned her forehead a little harder into the door, trying to get a better look, and it dented in like stale bread collapsing under a probing finger. But it did get her closer, somehow. She could see now that the movement was from the ground to the ceiling. Lots of tiny things. Bugs? Bubbles?
She braced her hands against the door, switching to her other eye.
And then her hands seemed to pass right through the disintegrating wood, and sudden realization almost emptied her stomach.
That was –
That was an arm.
That was a piece of a little girl.
Her horrified eyes dragged themselves from the tube. Away from the free-floating arm, bathed in a thick, blue solution through which air bubbled cheerfully. They locked onto a pair of eyes, staring unblinkingly back.
No face. Just eyes, tethered to a mass of tissue that had once been a brain.
The face was in the third tube, along with what was left of that little girl.
Tessla.
The one like them.
Her organs were floating around her opened body, and even knowing as little as he did, he knew there was something wrong with them. Her legs seemed to be the only part of her that hadn't been mangled, and her toes brushed towards the bottom of the tube, as though they wanted to touch solid ground again.
As though they wanted to walk again.
As though the report of her fracturing her thighbone when she stood was just made up.
She couldn't breathe. She couldn't blink. She couldn't look away.
That was what they'd done. To the one that had been born before them. Born from the same Plant as them.
The information flashed through her mind. The images of Tessla as an infant, the notes of how her growth was accelerated, like theirs. Curiosity and happiness at being able to communicate with a different species, followed by the tests. The scans. The cancer. The lack of regenerative functions.
That they'd done enough to her to know that she had regenerative functions.
That she'd given up.
That she'd died.
That they'd killed her.
They killed Tessla.
How could Rem not know about this?
Behind her, she could hear Vash's uneven breathing. He wasn't shoving, anymore. He wasn't talking.
That could be him, in there.
That could be her.
Day 229. She'd died on day 229. She hadn't even been a year old.
They were a year old.
How could Rem not . . . know . . .?
How could the crew . . . ?
Was that why Steve treated them like he did? But he wasn't the science officer –
How could they not know?
Was that why –
Was that –
Questions swirled around her head, making it hard to see. She still couldn't breathe. She couldn't hear. She couldn't even think anymore.
It could be them. It could be them.
It would be them.
No.
They had to get away. She had to get away.
But they were in space. There was nowhere to go.
She barely felt something touch her face, and the last thing her fading eyes could tell her was that she was parallel with the console, and one of the knobs was digging into her cheek.
When she pulled herself away from the door she gasped so violently she actually inhaled some of the crumbling wood, and that set her into a coughing fit that ended with her curled over, kneeling on the ground in front of that door. She coughed so hard she gagged, and her eyes watered with the force of her choking and emotions.
The little boys. They'd had a sister.
The people on the ship had killed their sister. They'd experimented on her, and she'd gotten sick. And she'd died.
That was why he was so afraid of humans. Because they'd done such a horrible thing.
He was afraid they were going to do it to him.
That was why he was so afraid for his brother now. Because his brother was sick.
Because the humans had made his brother sick.
Panic welled up inside her, and she swallowed down another reflexive hack, looking around her. The door she'd been leaning against was badly damaged, and as she watched more of that decrepit wood crumbled to the ground.
What . . . did that mean?
It gave her a cold feeling, and she found herself scrambling to her feet without really knowing why.
"What are you doing down here, Rem?"
Her breathing caught again, so that she coughed a few times, spinning on her bare heels to see him. The little boy. His long blonde hair was cut short, but he still wore the loose-fitting blue tunic, and a pair of short pants to match. His topaz eyes were looking at her curiously, but his expression was one of suppressed excitement.
Very clearly, there was something he wanted to tell her.
"I . . . was just looking for something," she said quickly, and she leaned down a little at her waist, both to get closer to eye-level with him and to hide the doorway behind her. She could almost hear the wood disintegrating, and tried desperately to ignore it.
Did he know what was in that room?
"But there's nothing down here of any value," the little boy replied, his voice puzzled. "What were you looking for?"
How could he say that? All of his childhood memories seemed to be in these rooms, and the more she saw, the more she realized - She shook her head. "Nothing important. Now, what brings you down here?"
If he noticed her changing the subject, he didn't protest. Instead, he bit his lower lip, then threw his arms up in the air.
"He's back!"
She paused, then felt a relieved grin grow across her face. It was mirrored by the little boy in front of her. "I can sense him," he explained. "He feels right next to me!"
She crouched down and enveloped the little boy in a hug. "But that's wonderful! Shall we go and see him?"
The little boy hugged her back. "He's sleeping," the muffled voice said. "I hope he's okay."
She just raised an arm and stroked his short blonde hair. "He'll be okay, Knives," she said kindly. "Soon he'll wake up and tell you that all by himself!"
The little boy hugged her tighter, burying his face in her shoulder, before pushing himself away. She let him go, straightening to follow him, and he smiled up at her again.
"I was right," he said in a clear voice. He seemed so relieved.
She cast her mind back, wondering what he was right about. That they'd be able to get Vash? He'd never been sure . . . was he referring to trusting her to help him, protect them? She'd made the promise the first time she'd come here, that she wouldn't let anyone kill him. That they'd get his brother back.
And it felt as though she'd done both.
"They did exactly what I knew they would," he added, as though in explanation. "I was right."
She blinked at him, nonplussed. "You said –"
"That they'd do to us what they did to Tessla," he interrupted. "And they did. I was right to crash the ships, Rem. Even if you died, I was still right."
She stared at him, noting his relieved expression wasn't slipping. Then she turned to glance behind her.
The door was halfway gone.
"I never forgot, Rem," he said, not unkindly. The same way a child would tell a parent that he broke a crayon. "It was just that Vash was in a bad place. We had to go on. We had to make sure it didn't happen again."
Then the little boy frowned. "Only I didn't," he added softly. "You saved some of them, Rem. And I couldn't stop you."
He took a step toward her, but she refused to back away. In the blink of an eye, he was the fourteen year old boy, with the same haircut, same piercing blue eyes. Only now he was nearly her height, and his relieved expression had lost so much innocence.
He crashed the ships because he was afraid they'd be experimented on. Like Tessla had been.
He crashed the ships because it was the only way he could get away from them.
His expression settled into something cooler as he walked up to her. She stood straight, refusing to be intimidated.
"You can't blame me anymore," he said quietly, almost to himself. "If only you'd stayed in that pod, Rem. Why did you have to go and spoil everything?"
She stared him straight in the eye, and said the first thing that came to mind. "Isn't what you did exactly the same, Knives? Kill them before they can kill you?"
He stared at her for a moment, and then he started to laugh.
- . -
Meryl glanced across the cab of the truck, noting that Millie was leaning against the window. Her head bobbed with the jouncing the truck was taking, and her eyes were closed.
She'd finally fallen asleep.
Meryl turned back to the sand, doing her best to make the ride smoother. Generally speaking, they were heading due north. Even she was smart enough to know which direction that was, since it was nearly evening on Gunsmoke. The first moon always rose in the north, something to do with its unusual orbit. Of course, she'd read that the fifth moon's orbit was changing since Vash the Stampede blew a hole in it, which was affecting all the other moons. That had been the same newspaper that had also proclaimed the suns were dying, so she wasn't sure how much stock to put into it.
She glanced Millie's way again, not to stare at the slumbering woman, but past her. Aaron was driving the other vehicle, and rather than follow her directly and eat a bunch of sand, he was flanking her on the right. He was close enough that she could actually see him, his posture much like hers.
Tired.
They'd only been driving for about seven hours, but it felt like an eternity. She was sure that was partially because she didn't know how much longer it was going to take. Millie had given them general directions. Due north. Aaron had pointed out during their lunch break that that would take them directly into the several thousand square iles of wastelands between one line of the crashed ships and the other. Most of the civilization of Gunsmoke was set up like a horseshoe, with Mei and Inepral City on the very top of that horseshoe, and July and December as the end points. One normally followed the horseshoe to get anywhere, not because it was the fastest way but because there was literally nothing in the badlands. No fuel, no settlements, not even any bandits.
It made sense that Knives would choose a place like that. Currently empty and presumably always would be, but directly in the center of civilization.
He wanted it to be noticed, eventually. He wanted to taunt the humans with his Eden, because once they toed the line, he would get what he wanted.
Who was she kidding. He'd already gotten what he wanted. Tenfold.
And that was partially the reason Millie was being so calculatingly vague about their directions, she knew. Millie wasn't going to tell them where Eden was, not directly. In a small way, it insured Knives would survive to get there. She was using his memory to locate the place.
And even if she'd already memorized the location, it didn't change the situation. As soon as Knives died, Millie wouldn't be able to tell anyone anything.
Meryl chewed on her lower lip. She hadn't gotten much of a chance to speak to Doc about Millie's episode during their escape. It had taken every bit of strength she possessed to shove the twins and that huge bed up the steep, never-ending ramp that led from the ship's hangar bay to the vehicle depot. It had been such slow going that Aaron and Elizabeth had actually caught up with them halfway.
Aaron hadn't been able to help. He'd had his own problems.
She closed her eyes briefly, trying to forget. Not that she ever would. The unnaturally shaped body over Aaron's shoulder hadn't been Sunjy. It had been a Plant, wrapped and tucked and folded into two protective suits, so that the passengers in the vehicle with her wouldn't have to wear them.
She wasn't sure Elizabeth was ever going to forgive him for not going back for Sunjy. She wasn't sure she would, either, if it had been Millie or Doc or Vash that had been left behind. But it didn't make Aaron any less right. Sunjy was dead, and they didn't have time to go back for him.
They had to trust that the crew would bury him. That they wouldn't abuse his body, that they'd show him respect.
Doc's handheld had shown there was already too much activity in the main corridors as the crew started to free themselves. He had then picked the two trucks, he'd assigned the passengers, and he'd managed the loading of all persons and supplies. They had enough food and water for several days, though Aaron had already calculated that Eden had to be within two days of April.
Even if Millie never woke up, they had a good chance of stumbling upon Eden before they ran out of fuel or food.
A gentle tap directly behind her head made her squeak, and she whirled around to stare at the glass windshield separating her from her cargo.
The only conscious one, Doc, was watching her. When he saw he had her attention, he half-smiled apologetically for startling her, and then pointed.
She followed his gaze. He was picking out a huge outcropping of rocks. Probably a camp for the night, since they didn't know the topography and the going was getting worse. Though there was still an hour of sunlight . . . or maybe she just didn't like the idea of spending the night somewhere huge carrion birds were already lazily circling.
Like they knew there was no other place for these humans and Plants to stop.
She broke left, checking over her shoulder to make sure Carter was following. Then she tried to pick out the easiest approach to the rock.
They were pretty lucky – due north had proved to be a limestone ledge rather than flat sand, which prevented them from getting stuck in quicksand or sinkholes. She wasn't sure if Millie knew that, or was just giving them the quickest path to Eden. She was obviously as anxious as the rest of them to get there, no matter what awaited them.
They'd escaped the ship, but everything felt . . . as though the hardest part wasn't done yet. As though there was still a huge hurdle to clear. And she just didn't know how they were going to do it.
Meryl cast another look at Millie, laying exhaustedly against her own window. She didn't wake, even as the vehicle slowed, climbing over small rocks and outcroppings as they approached the lee side of the rocks. When the truck eventually ground to a halt, she put it carefully in park and turned the key in the ignition. The engine died easily.
Millie didn't wake.
Meryl opened the door, getting out of the truck carefully, not to be quiet but because her legs felt like gelatin. On the other side of the truck, she could hear more tires crunching over small rocks and after a moment, it too squeaked to a stop and shuddered into silence.
Doc was already out of the truck bed, and he cast a look upwards, as though measuring the amount of sunlight he had left.
"We should spend the night here," he finally said to her, quietly, and turned his sharp eyes on the truck cab.
"Millie's sleeping," Meryl answered, and Doc just nodded. Then he started to walk away.
"Wait, Doc –" She jogged to catch up to him. "I wanted to ask you-"
"I'll be back shortly, my dear," he reassured her with a smile. "I'm afraid self-medication comes with its own set of problems."
It took Meryl a second to catch onto the old man's meaning, and she immediately stopped, blushing bright red. Problems. Of course.
He didn't seem perturbed, just waved a hand and disappeared around an outcropping of rock.
Meryl spun on her heels and headed back to the trucks. While he was gone, they could try to set up the tents they'd stolen from the supply closet, along with the odd boxes of food that Doc assured them were far better than any of the other more familiar-looking dried foods they'd seen on the shelves. Millie had seemed to recognize them as well, though she wouldn't say why.
It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that she'd probably seen one while she'd been in Bryan's men's custody, shortly before Knives had gone in and killed them.
It was what he'd done in the span between killing them and bringing her to the ship that worried Meryl. She didn't want to ask, but she was sure Millie would never volunteer it.
And didn't they all have some secrets that just didn't need to be shared?
Meryl frowned, glancing upwards again to judge the position of the suns. It was really more a glance at the horizon than it was one up at the sky. They were sinking low, not that the temperature of the desert gave any indication of relief. She crunched back over to the trucks, noting Aaron had already gotten out of his and was untying the tarp that they'd stretched over the bed.
Despite the suits, it had been determined that the slumbering Plant would require shade as well. Doc didn't seem too worried about the Plant despite its bloated appearance, and hadn't chided or criticized Aaron for bringing it to him in that condition. He'd merely said she'd need more water than a Plant under maintenance sedation would, and that shade was required. He'd given the Plant an injection about four hours ago, and she didn't appear to have moved since.
Aaron caught Meryl's gaze, and though he said nothing, she knew what he was asking. "Doc's having stomach trouble," she said simply, and the man nodded, letting his eyes settle on the rocks Doc had disappeared behind for a moment before continuing with his work.
He missed Meryl's questioning gaze, or more likely, simply didn't respond.
She didn't want to imagine what the atmosphere in his truck cab had been like.
Elizabeth had said almost nothing during their lunch stop. She'd eaten nothing, barely drank, and spent her time staring at the ground, her hands, or the canteen. Meryl was surprised at the engineer's reaction; she'd seen Elizabeth frustrated, she'd seen Elizabeth under stress.
She'd never seen the statuesque engineer behaving like this.
And part of her felt absolutely horrible for thinking that she got what she deserved.
Because it wasn't true. Elizabeth had made her very, very angry. She'd shared details about Knives and Vash that would have been better left buried. What she'd given them would make it easier for them to track down the twins once they'd gotten their ship and their personnel straight. The death of Commander Gray would slow that process considerably, which was in their favor, but it wasn't as though Elizabeth had planned that.
But she'd been trying to put herself into a position where she'd have a steady stream of reliable information. Her intrigue and careful words had put Aaron and Sunjy in places they could use to their advantage, such as Aaron's success in overriding the lift. Which had been completely invalidated by Millie's newfound computer talents, but left them with a Plan B.
She was a long way from forgiving the engineer, but she knew how it felt to lose someone. And there was no doubt the other woman had been much closer to Sunjy than she had been to Wolfwood. Elizabeth had known the man all her life after July, and she'd only known Wolfwood a few years. Her sympathy would mean nothing to Elizabeth right now, maybe not ever. But she'd offer it just the same.
It might make Aaron Carter's life a little easier.
Meryl watched him withdrawing supplies from beside the slumbering Plant, and she gazed into the bed of the truck she'd been driving, looking at her own.
They weren't covered with a tarp, but their heads lay close enough to the cab that they'd been enjoying the shade it provided. Not that either one of them would have cared if their faces were sunburned. Knives was safely in a coma, looking just as peaceful as before. Vash didn't seem to have moved much, but he was sweating a little.
She frowned, pulling down the tailgate, careful not to dislodge any of the fuel or water containers. Doc had been sitting between them, keeping them wrapped in the blue blankets to protect them from the sun. She knew from Millie's that the blankets were pretty light, considering. They weren't going to cause the gunman to sweat when that horrible armor or the stuffy red coat hadn't.
She stood and walked carefully across the bed, trying not to jostle the truck overmuch. Despite the fact he was out cold and she knew it, she watched Knives like a hawk as she knelt between the two. Only when he didn't so much as quiver in her direction did she turn her attention back to Vash.
He was definitely sweating, and she tentatively laid the back of her hand across his forehead.
He was burning up. He didn't respond to her touch, either, not so much as a twitch of his eyelids.
Maybe he wasn't as okay as he looked. Meryl bit her lip, then turned the edge of the blanket down a little. He was more than half in shade anyway, it wasn't as though there was a need to mummify him up to his chin when he was already overheating.
Her hand froze, almost dropping the blanket as she saw what lay beneath it.
Skin.
The grate was gone. It was the first thing she noticed, but that observation was immediately followed by the visible lack of raised, angry red scars. They were reduced in appearance to strips of almost waxy white flesh. Sweat beaded on these strips of flesh unnaturally, like it was windbreaker material and not skin at all.
Almost against her better judgment, she tossed the blanket back, exposing him almost to his abdomen.
It was covered, not in raised, red scars but white ones. The holes in him, where the flesh had been dug out or shot off, they were filled with the same waxy scar tissue. He was a little paler than she remembered, and if you didn't look too closely-
He looked almost like a normal person. She had known the implants were gone, but she'd never imagined that he'd –
Healed? Or was this something else? Was this why he hadn't woken up? The energy he'd expended to repair his body had been too much?
It was as she was studying the odd pattern of scars around his heart that she noticed.
His arm. It was missing; they'd left the prosthetic in the ship, but she was sure Doc would be able to make another one. It just looked –
More. Longer than she remembered the real flesh being. It seemed as though a ring of this new scar tissue had formed around the base, extending about five inches almost to where an elbow should be. Vash hadn't had that much arm remaining, had he?
Meryl tore her eyes away, suddenly realizing he'd be horribly embarrassed if he knew she was seeing him like this. The scars had been bad enough, how would he react to this . . .?
What did she care? As soon as he woke up he was going to roll over and let Knives slaughter them, right?
Meryl thinned her lips, glancing again at Knives.
They had to do something about him. The ship, their escape, it hadn't been the time to discuss it. Doc had reminded them of it as they'd bickered about who was getting on what truck. It was decided that Millie needed to be in the vehicle carrying Knives, and Doc needed to be as well to keep him out. Vash obviously went with Doc, and it made more sense not to let Millie drive, since she'd obviously gotten worse. At that point it had been apparent that everyone else was going to have to go in another truck. Doc was the only cramped one, and she glanced back at the rocks.
No sign of the old man.
Considering he was injured himself, it probably hadn't been smart to let him go off on his own. It probably hadn't been good for him to sit in the back of the truck, wrapping a piece of cloth around his head to keep off the sun. He'd eaten and drank during their stop, and she'd noticed Aaron watching him. If they didn't get to Eden soon, she was worried that he was going to take a turn for the worse.
And then they'd be in very big trouble indeed.
"How are they?"
Meryl tried not to yelp, glancing at Aaron. He was standing by the bed of the truck with a canteen in his hand. He offered it to her, and she nodded thanks. She drank deeply, then turned and lowered the lip of the canteen to Vash's lips.
"Careful," Aaron said quietly behind her, and she almost smiled as she watched the miniscule amount of water trickle into his mouth. After a moment, she saw his throat bob as he reflexively swallowed.
"This isn't my first time playing nursemaid," she said in a low voice, letting him get another swallow before she sat back on her heels and glanced at Knives. Aaron leaned his forearms on the truck and watched her a moment.
"So what about him?"
"That's a good question," she said quietly. "What do you think?"
"I think he's a waste of water, at least until we get to Eden," Aaron responded frankly. "The map I snagged out of the supply room is as good as the one Doc gave us, but it's still a guessing game. No way Thompson'll tell us where we're going?"
Meryl shook her head.
Aaron glanced behind her, and Meryl frowned.
He was looking at the rocks, too.
"How's Doc?" she asked after a moment. Aaron gave her an odd look.
"He's doing okay for an old guy. How are you?"
She shrugged. "Tired," she replied honestly.
He pinned her with a look, and she found herself trying to get away from his eyes.
Taking care of Knives meant hurting Millie.
She knew that. She knew that they couldn't let Knives wake up. Once he saw Vash, he wouldn't stop until every single living breathing thing with arms and legs was in pieces. It wouldn't matter that it was basically humans from Earth that had done this. They were all from Earth, even if she was three or four generations removed. It wouldn't matter to him that these humans had only been on Gunsmoke for the equivalent of a couple years.
All that would matter was that humans interfered. That much Millie had communicated to her.
And Knives was already aware, on some level. Even though he was in a coma, he was thinking. Seeing what Millie saw, hearing what she heard. He already knew what they'd done to his brother, tried to do to him.
Oh, shit. He'd know that they tried to kill him.
And they didn't have an excuse.
"That good, huh," Aaron said quietly, and she ducked her head so he would stop reading her expression.
A moment passed, then Aaron leaned off the truck. "Don't go anywhere."
Meryl listened to him crunching off, and when she heard a door open she knew he was talking to Elizabeth. She needed to be a part of this conversation as much as the rest of them did.
What the hell were they going to do?
Meryl stared at Knives a moment, then returned her gaze to Vash. Was Elizabeth right? Had Vash really agreed to let Knives kill the humans? Had he really been so stupid to agree to that? What if it wasn't stupidity? What if he was just tired? He'd been trying to save the world since he was a boy. He'd lived over a hundred years, accumulating scars and pain and heartbreak in his thankless task. He'd killed, the one thing he'd promised himself and his mother figure he'd never do. He'd fought his brother, he'd even won.
But Knives had lived. And Vash had been faced with the same decision they faced now.
What to do with him?
She wasn't sure what he'd done. Knives had been in the house two days after his tirade before he'd really been conscious enough to interact with them. Vash had been doing a good job of preventing them from entering the room at all, but he'd needed to get some sleep. He'd also been holding his head a lot, which made her think that he'd gotten grazed by a bullet or hit a little too hard at some point and she hadn't noticed. He'd shown a sensitivity towards sunlight, but the most telling indication was that he'd let her nag him into bed one afternoon.
And she'd promised to look after Knives.
He'd glared at her the moment she'd walked into the room, then dismissively stared out of the small window in the room. He'd never looked at her again, never twitched so much as a finger in her direction. She'd assumed he was in too much pain to move, and that she was safe.
When he'd sat bolt upright in the bed as a gunshot rang into the house from the open window, she'd realized that was not the case.
He'd winced, glaring at his stomach a moment and waiting for the tell-tale red to appear, signaling that he'd ripped the wound open again. And sure enough, he had. Yet he'd done nothing besides sit as still as a statue when she'd carefully rebandaged him. At the time, she'd been a little surprised that Knives was so jumpy. She'd been a little unnerved herself, though she'd later found out it had just been a warning shot from a storekeeper to some unsavory types.
He'd had the chance to kill her the entire time she was in that room, and much like she couldn't have prevented a serious Vash from ending her life, she couldn't have stopped him either.
Something else had stopped him. Had Vash already gotten his brother to agree to their compromise? Did he know that Knives would never agree unless he added that stipulation? That if the humans screwed up just once, it was over?
And what did over entail? Had Elizabeth extrapolated that Vash would allow it, or did it simply mean the brothers would be fighting one another again? She stared at Vash, willing him to wake up. Willing him to tell her what would happen.
But he didn't.
Crunching footsteps alerted her to Aaron's return, and she wasn't surprised to see Elizabeth leading the way. The engineer looked much better than she had at lunch; maybe she got some sleep. Elizabeth glanced at her, then into the cab of the truck, noting Millie's sleeping face plastered against the window.
"Where's Doc?" she asked, when she was within easy speaking distance.
Meryl frowned, and glanced back at the outcropping again. She was all for giving the old man his privacy, but he was starting to worry her. She glanced at Aaron, and he nodded and headed immediately in that direction.
"Wait," she called softly, and he stopped, turning his head slightly back towards her.
"What do you think?"
He turned forty-five degrees, and watched her through his eyebrows a moment. "I don't think there's really a question," he observed. Then he continued towards the last place they'd seen Doc.
Meryl turned back to see Elizabeth frowning down at Knives.
"Any ideas?" Meryl asked quietly.
The engineer didn't even smile humorlessly. Her blank expression never really wavered.
"If we kill him, we may or may not find Eden. Millie may or may not get worse. Vash may or may not forgive us. Gunsmoke will be safe from him." She pursed her lips. "If we let him live, we find Eden. Millie may or may not get worse. Vash may or may not forgive us. Gunsmoke will not be safe from him."
She blinked dark-rimmed eyes as she caught Meryl's gaze, and she could see the engineer was struggling to hold herself together. "The question is whether we're sure what just happened violated their compromise, or not."
Meryl stared at her, expecting her to continue, but she remained silent.
"You were the one that was so confident that Knives would consider this over," she reminded the woman.
Elizabeth sighed, then nodded. "Vash did. He figured out several months back that he agreed to something really stupid. He did say that he'd verbally agreed that Knives could consider the compromise broken if anything happened to Vash." Her eyes traveled to him, lingering a long time. Meryl realized this was probably the first time the engineer had seen him sans implants as well. "I'd say something happened to him," she finished quietly.
Meryl blinked. Verbal contracts were shaky at best – but then again, Knives and Vash were telepaths. They probably had eidetic memories. "But agreeing that the compromise was broken isn't the same as agreeing not to do anything about it –"
Elizabeth shrugged. "He said that Knives stipulated that if anything happened to Vash, he would kill everyone. Vash simply responded with a 'yes.'"
She raised an eyebrow. Knowing him, that was just to acknowledge Knives' opinion, but the engineer was right. Knives would have interpreted it as permission from Vash to allow Knives to do whatever he wanted.
But Vash would insist on his correct meaning, wouldn't he? She glanced back at him again. The wind had picked up slight, moving a strand of oily hair onto his cheek, where his whiskers had trapped it. She resisted the urge to brush it aside, and was surprised when it was easier than she'd thought.
He was hurt, and he needed their help. But when he was better, he was on his own. He wasn't the same Vash, she reminded herself. Vash would never have done what he did in Hondelic.
"What do you know about their relationship? Were they getting along better?"
Elizabeth stared at Meryl, losing some of her blank expression to confusion. "You were reading the letters, right-"
Meryl shook her head. "No," she answered shortly. No need to explain.
Elizabeth didn't push it. Either she knew it was a bad idea, or she didn't really care. "Knives was calling the shots, and Vash was running around trying to hold everything together. When he wasn't with me or in Eden he was in a bar or on a streetcorner with the kids. More of the former than the latter." She frowned.
"If I had to guess, I'd say he was trying to get it all out of his system before he went back to Eden for good. Once the Plants are all extracted, there's no real reason for Vash to be involved. Knives and I did most of the work on the fusion generators, and Knives was managing the manufacturing of the solar plant components as well as the fusion reactors."
So Knives was getting Vash – away from the humans. He had manipulated their roles to have the upper hand.
Which meant that Vash was letting him.
"What about Millie?" the engineer asked softly.
What about Millie? Meryl closed her eyes briefly. "I wanted to ask Doc, but I haven't had a chance. She – she got upset when Gray and then Terry showed up. She collapsed, and when she spoke afterwards she was slurring her words again." She'd briefly thought that was the end. "She said her leg was tingling and had given out." But then again, she'd picked up Knives so easily, and been exhausted but striding easily up that ramp.
Elizabeth just nodded. "So she's going to be . . . affected, if we do this."
Meryl glanced into the cab of the truck, where she could just barely see Millie's left shoulder and her hair. She was still wearing that horrible gown they'd given her, just as she herself was still wearing the gray uniform. So was Elizabeth. They'd been far more worried about getting out of range of any weapons than they'd been with their wardrobe.
Knives had survived July, when Vash had told her he'd shot his brother. Knives obviously had the ability to repair himself physically, just as Vash had apparently done with his scars. But did that mean he knew of a way to heal others? Or was it just a Plant trait that wouldn't do Millie any good?
She'd heard of plant technicians recovering from chronic illnesses after working with a Plant for a while, but arthritis was a long way off from clots and strokes.
And if Knives was connected to Millie telepathically, what would happen to her when he died? Would that cause even more damage? Or would she just keep sleeping, just like she was now?
"Do you think we can . . . I don't know. Keep him drugged?"
Elizabeth thought about that a moment, then shook her head. "No. Dr. Greer said something about Vash developing an partial immunity to the inhibiting drugs. It was taking more and more to keep him under wraps. I assume the same would happen with Knives. Also, what if we missed a dose . . .?"
She could think of no prison to put Knives in. They could leave him in the middle of the desert, but what if. . .
If they let him live, he'd declare open war on humans. Of that, both she and Elizabeth were sure. Millie had already revealed that Knives was very, very angry. She didn't think she could talk him out of something he'd wanted since he was a boy. Only Vash seemed to have that power, and he wasn't currently capable of speaking.
Everything else wasn't certain, but that was. If they let him live, they were in very real danger of being annihilated. They couldn't stop him. He wouldn't fall for the drugs again, and she wasn't sure she wanted that Earth military to go after him again.
She doubted he'd given them a chance. Anyone that knew how he'd been taken down would logically be the first to be killed.
She heard low voices, and turned to see Doc proceeding towards them, flanked by Aaron. He didn't look any the worse for wear, and picked his way as any old man might around the rocks.
"Doc will not allow this," Elizabeth said in a low voice. "He will want to give Knives the option."
The option to kill them? She glanced at the engineer, who held her gaze steadily. Elizabeth was sure of her words. And her vote was clear.
Aaron and Elizabeth both felt that killing Knives was the only solution to their situation. Even if they never found Eden. Even if Millie –
Meryl just crouched between the Plants, waiting for the two men to approach. Doc seemed to sense the tension, because he came up fairly quickly, and didn't break eye contact.
"What happened to Millie? Back in the Infirmary?" She asked it without preamble, but this didn't seem to surprise Doc. He just sighed quietly.
"She had a stroke," he answered, just as bluntly. "A fairly major one, I should think. I doubt she'd have motor control of her right side if Knives was not compensating."
Meryl blinked, swallowing around a suddenly thick throat. "Is there anything we can do for her?"
Doc never flinched. "No," he admitted. "She is beyond human medicine."
"Do you think Knives can repair her, as he repaired himself?" she heard Elizabeth ask.
He sighed, switching his gaze to the other speaker. "I don't know," he answered. "I don't know how Knives repaired the damage Vash's Angel Arm did to him. However, Knives didn't suffer trauma to the head. The brain is a tricky thing. Even if he could repair the damage, the knowledge that was in the cells that died – it's gone. Memories, skills – she'd have to learn to speak again, walk again."
"Do we have enough supplies to get to Mei City from here?"
Aaron glanced at Elizabeth – as far as Meryl knew, it was the first time she'd spoken to him since they left the ship.
"Yes."
If Knives died, Millie died. If Knives died, they'd have to take their chances with Vash being discovered by operatives of the ship they'd just left behind. If Knives lived, they were all dead.
Millie would say not to kill Knives, because he was scared. Because he had acted to protect his brother. Because she was far too close to the crazed rationalizations he was pumping into her brain along with all that knowledge of the computers. And she agreed with Elizabeth, Doc would never elect or allow them to execute someone. And that was what it would be. They were keeping him in a drug-induced coma, and they were talking about killing him when he couldn't say one word to defend himself.
Not that he would.
Aaron and Elizabeth were obviously for ending the threat, regardless of the consequences. She'd already asked herself this question. It was Millie or humans on Gunsmoke. And that was assuming Knives actually would help her, even if he could.
When she'd seen with her own eyes the corpses of members of the Gung-Ho Guns that had failed to kill Vash. Even when Knives had never intended them to succeed in the first place. His track record for rewarding loyalty or service was crappy at best.
Two for, two opposed.
And what did she think?
Millie or everyone else.
That was the question.
Meryl looked down at Vash, then glanced at Doc. "Is he going to wake up anytime soon?"
Doc watched her steadily. He'd obviously figured out why they were asking the questions they were, because he suddenly looked tired. "No," he answered.
Elizabeth had been right all along. Vash wasn't going to save them, this time.
They'd have to save themselves. Or die.
The thoughts echoed so strangely in her head. She'd thought them when Knives had begun his attack on the ship, but he'd never really stopped. He was fighting them even now, holding Millie as his hostage. Maybe he'd planned it that way all along. Maybe the damage he'd done was absolutely calculated because he knew they'd do anything to help her.
She glanced again at the cab. Knives wasn't going to help Millie. She just knew it. He'd be furious that they tried to blow him up and Millie had failed to see it until it had been attempted. He'd consider that she failed him, and he'd punish her accordingly.
Oh, god. What was she thinking?
Could she do this?
Could she allow this to happen?
Millie was still sleeping, more than exhausted. She'd just keep sleeping. Keep sleeping until the next stroke killed her. Maybe the last one already had.
Meryl stared through the glass, staring at the shoulder and the hair that was visible. Millie had jumped into danger to save others before, hadn't she? Meryl had done the same, standing in front of a gun to save a life. She was willing to give her life for a cause she believed in. Shouldn't saving the humans on Gunsmoke be a cause she would believe in?
Would she accept that they'd sacrifice her, in this situation? If it were her sleeping peacefully in that truck, and not Millie?
Was she trying to rationalize murder? Or was this pity?
Was this what Vash had gone through every time he'd been faced with a decision to kill or be killed? Was there really another way?
It was wrong to take the life of another, but it had not been wrong to shoot Legato Bluesummers. He'd orchestrated it so that there was no other alternative. Wasn't that what Knives himself had done?
Meryl took a slow breath. "Aaron, give me your gun."
She heard fabric shift, and she turned in time to see him fishing a gun out of the small of his back. He checked the gun, ejecting the clip before replacing it and holding out the weapon, grip first. Though he held it past Doc, the old man made no move to interfere as she took it.
She'd never fired a gun with a clip before. Her derringers were one shot, and when she'd practiced with a six-shooter, it had been a cylinder-loading pistol. She examined it briefly before locating the safety and flipping it off.
If this was really going to kill Millie, she wanted that responsibility to be hers and hers alone.
"How many bullets are in that gun, young man?" Doc asked Aaron, quietly.
Meryl gritted her teeth. "I only need one."
Doc released a slow breath. "I suppose that's true," he conceded. "Elizabeth, could you be a dear and hand me that medical bag in front of you?"
Elizabeth started to move, but stopped, her expression shifting from confusion to something more careful. "May I ask why?"
Doc's eyebrows rose to his hairline. "To finish off Vash, of course," he said matter-of-factly. "It won't be quite as messy as a bullet to the head, but should be nearly as instant and just as painless."
Meryl tore her eyes away from the sleeping man she was contemplating murdering and stared at him in shock. Had he just said –
"Why would you do that?" Elizabeth's voice was absolutely calm. Just as she'd been in the conference rooms with Gray and Phillips and Greer.
Doc looked confused. "Well, I won't let him needlessly suffer," he replied. "He's beyond my help. Knives is his only hope of survival. If I am interpreting Meryl's actions correctly, she plans to destroy that hope."
"What?" Meryl couldn't believe the voice had been hers.
Doc dropped the act, and leaned heavily against the truck. His face had lost most of the affected confusion, and he looked even more tired than he had before. "Vash is dying. His Gate – the source of his Plant-derived powers – has become inactive."
She just stared at him, and he tried again. "Since Vash is a Plant, there are parts of his physiology that require that energy in order to keep functioning. It's one of the reasons he can fight so tirelessly, and move so quickly. Without it, he will essentially . . . starve to death." He seemed to be fishing for an analogy she'd understand. "A human can live for weeks on just water, but they will eventually die. This is akin to that concept."
Aaron was watching Doc, his face unreadable. "You want to use Vash to buy time."
Doc glanced at the large, muscular man beside him. Then he nodded. "Yes," he admitted. "It's risky, but it's the only solution I can think of."
Elizabeth's eyes narrowed, and Meryl felt the now-familiar irritation at being left out of the loop. "Buy time?"
"If we present a newly conscious Knives with Vash in this condition, his first actions will be an attempt to save his brother's life," Doc explained. "Knives proved that by rushing recklessly into a dangerous situation with no backup plan. In every situation Vash has mentioned to me previously, Knives never does anything that thoughtless."
His eyes flickered to the two Plants, studying them a moment as though he could see them moving in his theoretical future. "Knives knows significantly more about his own physiology than I do, and has the additional advantage of being a Plant himself. He may know of something I don't."
"He forced Vash's hand in July," Elizabeth said thoughtfully. "You think he can trigger Vash's Gate the same way?"
Oh. Of course.
Doc nodded. "Perhaps. In any case, I doubt Knives will even bother to kill us before he has managed to stabilize his brother. That gives us enough time to try to reason with him."
"You doubt?"
"Reason with him?"
Meryl and Aaron had spoken at nearly the same time, and exchanged a look. Doc just looked at Meryl, and it wasn't long before she no longer had an excuse to ignore his gaze.
"Please."
But . . . "But what if you're wrong?"
Doc pursed his lips and sighed. "Then we would be making a very grave mistake indeed," he admitted. "The safest choice is simply to kill them both. Though I wish we'd come to that conclusion before we'd gone to all the trouble of breaking them out of the place that would have been happy to complete that task for us."
Meryl almost smiled. Trust Doc to remind them that they were in this situation because they'd been worried about Vash in the first place.
"I respect your medical opinion," Elizabeth said, from across the truck, "but I don't believe you would kill Vash."
Doc met her gaze with steel. "If his Gate should discharge uncontrolled, a quarter of the planet could be destroyed," he answered. "Vash will probably not regain consciousness. If Knives is not alive and aware to control that discharge . . . it would be remiss of me to allow that situation to take place."
Meryl stared back at the Plants. At Vash, eyes still closed, unaware of the conversation going on right above him. Knives looked just as he did before. Millie wasn't stirring in the front seat.
Knives would have no idea they'd had this discussion.
He'd just think they'd spared him. He wouldn't know that she'd held a gun, pointed at his forehead.
Would that be enough to undo the damage Elizabeth's explosives attempt had caused? Would it be enough to stay his rage?
What happened if Knives couldn't save Vash either?
"Do you really think it'll work?"
That, surprisingly, came from Aaron, and Doc turned, leaning against the truck bed with his right arm over the side.
"I think it might," he said, after a long pause. "I like the idea of having two humanoid Plants on this planet a lot better than I like the idea of destroying them."
"We're talking about all the humans on Gunsmoke."
Doc shrugged. "You were the ones to hesitate."
Meryl's brain stalled. He was right.
But the negotiator in her knew exactly what he was doing. Manipulating their emotions.
And he was doing a damn good job of it.
Could it work? Was this the other way? The other way Vash couldn't find in his fight with Legato?
"No one has the right to take the life of another, huh," she growled. Doc barked a laugh.
"I can keep Knives from killing us when he wakes. Will you all agree to let him come around and at least hear him out?"
Aaron shifted besides Doc. "You brought inhibitors with you, didn't you."
Doc just nodded. "It will keep him psionically dampened as well as physically weak. He won't have access to any of his Plant powers."
"What will that do to Millie?"
Doc frowned. "Considering the first time she woke he was in an inhibited state, I hope nothing."
Meryl noticed Elizabeth shift slightly, but the engineer didn't say anything.
This was insane. "Are we really considering this?"
Aaron sighed. "It's a significantly smaller threat," he volunteered.
Of course Knives would lie to them.
But at least they could get a gauge on how concerned he was about Vash. And whether he could save him or not. Right?
But what if he could? Then what?
Then Vash will be around to talk to him, her brain chipped in. Maybe Vash can do whatever it was he did that caused Knives to behave in the first place.
No, that couldn't work –
But what if it could?
What did it hurt to ask?
Meryl lowered the gun, suddenly aware that her arms were starting to tremble with the unnatural weight.
She'd never be able to do this if she didn't do it now.
She glanced at Elizabeth, who was staring not at Knives but at Vash. This was her dream come true, both the Plants being wiped out, surely she'd not change her mind –
"Okay," she said softly.
Meryl blinked, then sighed quietly. "I agree."
Doc seemed to straighten rather than slump. "Thank you." It was quiet, but sounded genuinely grateful. "He can be awake in three hours. Shall we do this tonight, or tomorrow morning?"
"Tomorrow." They all glanced at Aaron. He seemed uncomfortable with their attention. "We need a night's sleep," he said, by way of explanation. "I doubt any of us are going to sleep ever again if we agree to let him live."
Meryl couldn't help a sudden, reactive smile. It cut the tension considerably, and she shook her head, putting the safety back into the on position before offering Aaron his gun back.
This was insane. It was either going to be the dumbest decision anyone on Gunsmoke had ever made, or it was going to close to the dumbest.
She stared at the twins again before she pulled the blanket back up around Vash's shoulders. It would be cool soon enough, and at least now she knew why he had a fever.
He wasn't okay. Not by a longshot.
- . -
Author's Notes: You may have noticed I attempted to tie Tessla into this mostly anime-based universe. I'll have Millie and Knives cover that in a little more detail in further chapters. It was necessary to explain why Knives was so unsettled by finding an empty bulb and Vash's prosthetics. Those that have not read the manga – Tessla is in there, and what I added of her here was straight from the manga.
And that's all I got. Sorry, ReadingWhiz, I didn't cover as much of the escape as I think you would have liked. And I don't mind telling you folks I'm just waiting for the hailstorm of dissent regarding Meryl's characterization in this chapter. I can take the criticism, I can::thumps chest to prove it, then winces:: Again, thank you for your support, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter! If you do have a valid counterpoint to Meryl here, I'd love to hear it, or any other plotholes you've discovered!