Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Life Thereafter ❯ Twin .45 Colts ( Chapter 10 )

Disclaimer: How I wish I owned Trigun. Sadly, I own it not.

 

A/N: I'm back. It took me all night to write this chapter and bring you readers happiness. Plus, despite popular belief, this story has a plot! -gasps from the readers- Yes, I have a rough draft of one thanks to my own personal brainstorming monkey Abo. She is truly great! And now, here comes Chapter 10!

 

 

Twin .45 Colts

 

Millie slowly wiped the sweat off her brow before the salty liquid dripped into her eyes. That had happened twice today while she was working in the fields, and it made her eyes sting. Even though her clothes were already pretty damp with perspiration, it still helped a little. Then, she leaned heavily on her spade, the twin suns still radiating waves of heat as they began to set.

She had sent off the letter to her family yesterday. It would probably be a while until they recieved her note since mail traveled slowly on Gunsmoke. The desert didn't really facillitate cohesiveness among the settlements. Post between the bigger cities was handled by sandsteamers, but in remote regions like this town, everything had to be carried on tomases, by far a much slower means of travel. Still, getting the letter delivered was all that mattered.

Millie jerked her spade out of the ground before she began to work again. Each time she swung the tool, she felt like a little bit of frustration was being released. Working the soil really was a fulfilling exercise. Plus, since Gunsmoke had such an arid climate, trying to make the land useable and succeeding would be something a person could be proud of.

However, even with the good feelings Millie had about working strenuously, she was still frustrated with the situation back at the house. Meryl and Vash refused to speak to each other. Of course, once Millie got home she would try to remedy that, but despite her determination, she wondered if she could.

One thought continued to occur to her. She was saddened by the distance that separated all of them. They had used to have so much fun in each other's company. Millie remembered those good times fondly. She smiled as she recalled all those times when Vash had been such a goofball while Meryl groused about his irresponsibility. They had liked each other even then, Millie was sure. It was beyond her why they wouldn't take advantage of their opportunities. They were lucky to have them.

Oh, Mr. Priest, I miss you so much...

Millie sniffled a bit, her eyes watering. When one of her co-workers saw the tears in her eyes and asked what was wrong, she rubbed her eyes roughly before plastering a cheerful smile on her face and assuring him nothing was the matter. He seemed placated for the moment, but he still didn't look convinced. A few minutes later, Millie began to work as fast as she could in the opposite direction of her co-worker. After all, fake smiles could only be maintained for so long before they fell apart. Millie had much experience but knew her own limits.

And so she worked, relishing the hard labor that blocked out all thought and emotion. This was why she loved to work. Millie had first discovered how much she enjoyed manual labor when she had lived at home and worked on the farm. She smiled wistfully, fond memories replaying in her mind's eye. Sometimes Millie wished time could be turned back. As it was, though, memories would have to suffice.

“BREAK!” the Foreman bellowed, his voice echoing across the fields.

Millie paused, her spade suspended in the air, before stopping and trudging over to the benches where other workers were huddled beneath an open tent. She passed by many men, most of whom greated her cheerfully, and she responded in kind. Quite a few of those men had asked to take her out on a date. It had pained her to turn them all down, but Millie knew she wasn't ready for any type of relationship. Perhaps she never would be.

I'll always remember you, Mr. Priest.

“Millie!”

She turned, characteristic smile in place. “Hello, Mr. Foreman! How are you today?”

A tall man with broad shoulders, unruly sand-colored hair, and grey eyes stuck his hand out in front of him. She accepted it, her hand disappearing into his large one as they shook heartily.

“I'm fine, just fine,” he said, his voice gruff. “You been workin' hard today?”

“Haha, yeah!” Millie grinned sheepishly.

“Well, always nice to see someone enjoying good, hard work,” he said approvingly. “Looks like a few lazy bums have managed to slip into our ranks, though,” he growled, casting his gaze about the men suspiciously.

Millie laughed. The Foreman was a strange fellow. His skin was brown and leathery after much exposure in the sun, and he looked about forty even though he was only thirty. She often found him funny since he pretended to be so tough. The Foreman was a softy inside. Millie could see it.

“I bet they'll do fine, Mr. Foreman!” she chirped. “Especially with you whipping some sense into them!”

A wicked gleam leapt into his eyes. “Aye, that I will!” he smirked. “Still, they have a ways to go before they rival your skill with a spade.”

Millie blushed. “I'm not that good, really, Mr. Foreman.”

He snorted. “Sure you are! Never seen a man work as hard as you.”

Millie clamped her hand over her cheeks. “Stop! You're embarrassing me.”

The Foreman's laughter boomed. “Ah, Millie, you're a funny one. Now tell me, have you finished your work in the western section of the fields?”

“I think so.”

“Atta girl!” He grinned. “Tell you what, why don't you go home since you're done for the day?”

“Are you sure, Mr. Foreman? I could get started somewhere else.”

He waved his hand in dismissal. “Bah! No. Go home. If you don't, I'll fire you.”

Millie covered her mouth with her hand, hiding a smile. He ALWAYS says that. “Ok, then, Mr. Foreman! See ya tomorrow!”

He grumbled. “Off with you! Before I change my mind!”

Millie grinned before grabbing up her lunch sack and starting on her way home. As she walked, her long brown hair bobbed in the bun set high on her head. She glanced down at herself, noting that her new overalls were already messy.

It's ok. I can wash them when I get back.

She hummed as she went, each step taking her closer to home. As she walked, she contemplated what she should do once she got there.

 

 

Vash rocked back and forth slowly, feet brushing the hardwood porch floor as he watch the suns set. It was a breath-taking sight. Golden rays and multiple hues of color created a beautiful portrait against the horizon, the one place where the heavens touched the hellish wastelands. A place in between two worlds.

However, Vash hardly noticed the panorama before him. He mostly came out here because the house wasn't really a desireable place to sit and relax. Not that there was much relaxation to be had outside or anywhere. Still, every little bit helped.

In all actuality, Vash didn't like being inside because he felt he was unwelcome there. Meryl was terrified of him, and Knives was being his usual genocidal self. Vash really did miss talking to Meryl even though most conversations involved him being smacked upside the head. It was a whole lot better than chatting with Knives.

Despite the fact that Knives was his brother, Vash hadn't felt close to him since they were small children. After the Great Fall, their relationship has soured quite a bit. Even now, after over a century of dispute, they still couldn't agree on anything. Every single time a conversation was attempted, they always ended in either awkward silence, cold silence, or dead silence. And oddly enough, there was a difference among the three.

Vash sighed. I really don't know what to do anymore. I know I said I would start looking to my own words for guideance, Rem, but at the moment, I think I'm doing a terrible job of it.

It was rather discouraging that he couldn't have any sort of stable relationship with the two people he cared about the most. The way things were going, Vash would have to pick one or the other. As much as Vash hated to admit it, he was beginning to understand that it could never work both ways.

Meryl and Knives stood on opposite ends of the spectrum with Vash stuck in the middle. Meryl was a human and feared his Plant-like self, the same part of him that Knives shoved in everyone's face. Knives, on the other hand, hated humans and wanted them dead, something Vash would never agree to. No matter what, Vash couldn't win.

Vash stretched, his lanky form reaching the limit. He leaned back in the rocking chair again, the seat creaking slightly. Then, he absent-mindedly began to scratch his right arm with his prosthetic one.

The more he scratched, the more it itched. Finally, he began to glare down at in in frustration. The stupid arm had been itchy on and off for a few days now. However, it now seemed to be hitting an all-time high.

Vash stopped scratching the already inflamed-looking skin and rolled up his sleeve, scrutinizing it. His flesh was pink where he had been scratching, and it looked irritated. He raised his arm against his right cheek to check the temperature of his arm since his prosthetic one couldn't detect heat or cold. It was flaming hot, as if it were burning. Vash lowered his arm, a quizzical expression on his face.

He looked at the arm again. Vash had felt something odd a moment ago. He squinted down at the arm, criss-crossed with scars. Then, he saw it.

Spread across the inflamed area of his arm was a strange white fuzz. Vash ran a metal fingertip over the fuzz and watch it flake off each time it made contact. However, the odd thing about this weird white fuzz was that it seemed to grow back immediately. It was brittle and broke off easily, but it came back just as quickly.

After picking at it for a while, Vash rolled down his sleeve, nonplussed. Since when do I have white fuzz growning on my arm? I mean, I know I'm a Plant, but this is really strange.

He paused. Could this have something to do with my being a Plant?

Vash shook his head. The only one who would know for sure was Knives, and Vash was not at all inclined to go to his homicidal twin for help. Meryl couldn't help. Millie wouldn't know what to do.

I guess I'm on my own, he thought grimly.

Vash felt like his whole life was being turned upside down. Everything that had been steady in his life was now in turmoil. Of course, his life had never been steady because of his outlaw status, but the emotional and mental strain were beginning to get to him.

There's something wrong with me. I know there is, he thought fervently.

Over the past few days, Vash had noticed a decline in his physical, emotional, and mental health. It hadn't happened overnight, yet it was there. He was always tired, depressed, and sluggish. Plus, for the first time, Vash found himself actually listening to Knives's rants!

Yesterday, I almost started to agree with him. It's a good thing I left when I did, Vash realized dismally.

“Hey, Mr. Vash?”

Vash tugged the sleeve of his shirt farther downward as he heard Millie approach, not wanting to scare her. He attempted one of his infamous, silly grins. He only managed a wan smile.

“Yeah? What's up?” he asked.

“Are you ok?”

“Oh. Yeah, sure.”

Millie didn't look like she believed it for a minute, but she didn't saying anything except, “Well, ok.”

She paused before pushing the door open and walking inside. Vash's tense muscles relaxed somewhat as the door shut behind her. He really didn't want to worry Millie. It wouldn't be fair to her since Meryl wouldn't be able to work for another couple of days. The burden of the household was on Millie at the moment, and Vash didn't want to add to her problems.

Thirty minutes of staring off into space later, the front door flew open, startling Vash so much he nearly fell out of his chair. Vash righted himself in the chair just in time to see a beaming, brunette insurance girl with soaking wet hair in her pajamas.

“Hey, Mr. Vash?”

“Yeah?” he asked, surprised.

“Um, could you come inside for a minute?”

Vash blinked. “Why?”

“Because!”

When he inquired further, Millie would only shake her head, smiling, and say “Because!” Finally, Vash gave in and followed the tall insurance girl into the house, the door creaking shut behind them.

Vash almost had a heart attack when he saw Meryl sitting on the couch in a pair of sand-colored overalls and a black T-shirt, looking for all the world as if she wanted nothing more than to be anywhere than where she was.

 

 

Meryl's heart thumped faster when she saw Vash walk through the doorway behind a semi-cheerful looking Millie. Her sweat-slimed hands clenched and unclenched repeatedly. She felt an almost irresistable urge to fidget but restrained it with great difficulty.

“Sit down, Mr. Vash!” Millie smiled.

“Um, I don't know if I-” Vash hesitated.

“Sit down!” Millie demanded again, an uncharacteristicly hard edge to her voice.

Vash sat on the couch next to Meryl. She almost bolted on the spot but somehow stayed put. However, Meryl did edge closer to her side of the couch, her body pressed against its arm rest. Quickly stealing a glance at Vash, who looked really worn down and weary, she noticed he was doing the same.

Meryl tried to push her discomfort aside for the moment and turned her gaze on her partner. “Millie, what's going on?”

“Well, Sempai, I decided that since you and Mr. Vash weren't going to talk to each other willingly, I'd have to push you together,” Millie said simply.

Meryl gaped at her friend, barely noticing that her expression was identical to the one on Vash's face. Millie merely stood there, a smile on her face. Yet, there was something eery about it. Meryl knew that her friend often hid behind smiles, but this one, this one was different. Strange. Bizarre. Cold, even.

Well, as a very wise dead person once said, even a smile can hide the teeth behind it, Meryl thought ruefully.

“Big Girl, are you sure we have to-”

“Yes, Mr. Vash, I'm very sure,”Millie replied with that same eery cheerfulness. “I want you two to make up.”

Meryl and Vash looked at each other. She saw pain in his eyes. Pure, unadulterated pain that scarred the soul. Vash was truly tormented by what had been going on for the past few days. It wrenched at Meryl's heart. She wanted to comfort him. Seeing him suffer, when so much had already happened to him, seemed like such an unnecessary cruelty.

But...

She shivered, a chill running down her spine. I can admit to myself that I'm afraid. But, can I tell Vash that? Do I have the courage to tell him I just need some time to...adjust to all of this?

Meryl opened her mouth to say something when Vash raised his hand, cutting her off. He smiled wanly at her, his expression sad.

“Meryl, I know what you think of me.”

He does? Then, he knows I don't hate him?

“And, I'm truly sorry for all the trouble I've caused. I didn't know bringing Knives here would cause such grief and pain.”

Meryl shook her head. He's wrong! He's missing the entire point!

“Let me finish,” Vash insisted. “I don't want to impose on you anymore.”

Where is he going with this?

“So,” Vash continued slowly, “tomorrow I'm leaving with Knives. And I'm not coming back.”

Both Meryl and Millie ogled at him in disbelief. He can't be leaving! He can't! I want to tell him before it's too late! Meryl's mind shouted at her.

Vash stood up, his balance a little off before he straightened himself. He gazed down at Meryl, regret etched across the lines of his face. “I'm sorry,” he whispered before heading for the door.

“Wait! Mr. Vash! Come back!” Millie protested.

Millie stopped midway to the door when Vash gave her a look. There was something about it that made Millie stop in her tracks, staring mournfully at Vash.

“Where are you going?” Millie asked timidly.

Vash sighed. “To get drunk,” he said wryly, as he shook his head solemnly before walking out the door, letting it click shut behind him.

Millie whirled on Meryl, startling her with the fierceness in her eyes. “Why, Sempai? Why didn't you stop him? You could have stopped him!”

Meryl shook her head, eyes lowered to the floor. “No. No, I couldn't, Millie. He...he's made up his own mind to leave.”

“Sempai, stop fooling yourself!”

Meryl jerked her eyes up, shocked by the angry tears in Millie's eyes. “You and Mr. Vash love each other very much even if you won't admit it! How could you let him go like that? It's so sad, Sempai! Why can't you understand?”

“Millie...he never gave me the chance to explain...”

“Then you should have taken the chance to explain!” Millie cried, tears in her eyes as she fled up the stairs and slammed the door shut behind her.

Meryl sank into the couch, feeling a very dismal sense of deja vú. Just like last time...

She rubbed her brow, weariness seeping through her. As if today hadn't been eventful enough. Now this. Meryl couldn't help but wonder if it was her lot in life to be forever cursed with misfortune.

Meryl stood up slowly before reaching under the couch cushions and withdrawing two twin .45 Colts, one silver and one black. Their smooth, identical surfaces gleamed wickedly in the fading light as she rememebr how she had found them.

It had been about a two weeks ago. Meryl had just arrived at work when she saw two twin handguns on display at the bar. She had nearly collapsed with shock when she recognized the silver one as Vash's and surmised that the black one was Knives's .

“Beauties, aren't they?” Johnson had asked, proud of his new acquisitions. “I got them off a tradesman passing through who said he'd found them in the desert in mint condition. They caught my eye so I bought them. They'll make great collector's items!”

“S-sir?” Meryl queried, her voice quivering.

“Yes?”

“I...I know this will sound strange, but do you think I could have those guns?”

He frowned. “Have them? What for?”

“I can't really explain...”

Johnson scrutinized her closely. “Really?”

Meryl looked down at her feet. “Yes, sir.”

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I'd be very sorry to lose them. Whoever made them must have been a genius. But, if they really mean that much to you, you can work for them.”

Meryl felt the tension in her muscles loosen. “Thank you, sir. I really appreciate it.”

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “No problem. But will you please stop calling me `sir?'”

She had been able to acquire the weapons only today.

Meryl tucked both weapons under her clothing and quickly tipoed up the stairs to hide the Colts in her room. The last thing she needed was for Knives to discover them. If he did, they really would be doomed.

 

 

Knives slipped back into his room when he heard the small, black-haired human called Meryl come up the stairs. He had managed to leave his room with little support for his legs to listen in on the entire conversation among the two pathetic humans and his brother. Judging by how much he had progressed since yesterday, Knives was certain that he would be able to walk with ease by tomorrow morning.

As Knives sat down on his bed, he began to grin as he recalled to mind what he had learned today. It would seem Vash was more inclined to believe Knives than before. It was truly delicious that the human Vash treasured most was the one who was causing him to turn against her own race. Her resemblance to Rem and Vash's own stubborn nature were now all that stood in Knives's way.

The corner of his lips curled into a cruel smirk as Knives sat there, relishing the soon extinction of the human race. Vash would be by his side. Nothing would be able to stop them from avenging their brethren.

In anticipation for that moment, Knives began to exercise his Angel Blades. He admired the razor-sharp blades as they arched out of his left arm. The same feeling returned once again, of his arm's structure changing, the bones, ligaments, and tendons morphing, turning into something more, something God-like.

Realizing that it was much easier to maintain the Angel Blades than it had been yesterday caused Knives to grin. By tomorrow, he would be completely healed, ready to recruit Vash and begin the extermination. Slowly, Knives allowed the blades to slide back into his arm once again.

He flexed his biceps, checking to make sure there had been no complications. Upon seeing there were none, Knives began to ponder. While it was true that the Angel Blades were far more accessible than the Angel Arm had been when the black Colt had been his, he also noticed that the Angel Blades (or Arm) created without any mechanical help was much more difficult to control. Knives preferred the Blades but felt safer using the guns since they regualted energy output. It made Knives wish Vash had not been fool enough to leave them out in the desert.

In addition, Knives had been noticing a subtle change in the air as if it was being stilled before an on-coming storm. It was unnerving, especially with the strange vibes Knives was getting from Vash.

Knves pushed such thoughts aside. Tomorrow was a new day, a day when he would finally begin to unleash his wrath. He grinned in anticipation.

You think that we are leaving tomorrow, brother? Think again. I have other plans, Knives thought maliciously.

 

 

Wow. So much is happening. Lots of interesting things. The next chapter should be even better...

Knives: Woman, you better tell me what you are planning!

First of all, I think I'm a bit young for you to be calling me `woman.' Secondly why should I share my brilliant, authoress-type plans with you, huh?

Knives: I will force you!

Ooooooh, look at Little Knives. He's trying to be tough! Well guess what? You cain't touch this! Muwahahaha!

Knives: Perhaps I should call you `child,' then? You are juvenile enough to be one.

-glares- You'll pay for that! -begins to chase Knives around with a torch and pitchfork-

Kuroneko: Nyah! (Translation: Review please!) -waves claws threateningly-