Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ I'm Free ❯ Chapter 3 ( Chapter 3 )

Trigun Fanfic

Summary:Why did it all go wrong? When did it all go wrong? He has a vague sense that he isn't where he's supposed to be, that he's being held by invisible bonds that he cannot see. Great sadness engulfs him as he looks upon the glowing bulbs and one thought reigns in his mind as he looks at the people looking back at him: You can't take me! I'm free!

 

Trigun © Yasuhiro Nightow * Shonen Gaho-sha * Tokuma Shoten * JVC * Pioneer Entertainment (USA) Inc.

The following fan fiction was written by me (Chiruken) and is intended for the sole purpose of shared entertainment and not intended for publication or sale.

 

I'm Free

 

By Chiruken

 

Chapter 3

 

Gunsmoke, Present Day:

 

He drifted, hovering just beyond full awareness, awash in a sea of pain. He was aware, in a detached way, that he wasn't alone, that someone was with him. It wasn't really that he saw them or heard them; it was more of a sensation of not being alone. Strange thoughts floated through his consciousness and he wasn't certain if they were his own thoughts, or those of others. Any attempts at grasping the thoughts to examine them further were met with stabbing pains throughout his skull, something he was certain had never happened before, though he wasn't entirely sure how he knew this.

 

Strange disjointed memories kept resurfacing in his mind, teasing him with wisps of understanding before darting away again. He knew he had a brother, yet he couldn't remember his name. He knew he'd been in the middle of something very important and had been interrupted, yet he wasn't certain what it was now. While he pondered the bizarre discrepancies in his memory he felt the sensation of standing within darkness, illuminated by a spotlight, yet he was given the impression that it wasn't an external brightness lending light but his own body emitting a soft glow. He thought it odd how dreams did that…revealed while concealing, casting an illusion of mystery while perfect clarity reigned. It was rather annoying, he decided, how full understanding was there, before him, yet completely unattainable in his current state. Hovering before him were two guns, one black and one silver, yet when he stretched out his hands towards them agony flared and they would disappear only to reappear elsewhere.

 

When he looked down he nearly panicked. He could see lush grass, the green blades bending in an unseen and unfelt wind, yet he couldn't see his own feet. After several long moments spent concentrating on breathing in and out, he felt the edge of hysteria receding. He examined the situation and decided that even though he couldn't see them, he was fairly certain he still possessed feet. Logically, he couldn't be standing if he didn't. Yet, no matter how hard he looked, he couldn't see anything beyond his knees. It wasn't as if they ended in bloody stumps…Now where did that thought come from?...it was more of a blurring, a fading out of existence. He decided to not dwell on the oddness of the distorted ending of his limbs and chose to focus on the grass instead. Yet, when he did so, it disappeared, leaving him suspended in an endless void.

 

He decided he much preferred the grass to the current scenery. It gave him the sensation of falling without actually moving, a feeling of vertigo that he didn't particularly enjoy. Echoing sounds reached him, odd things that made no sense, yet at the same time seemed familiar. An eerie, monotone voice whispering of undying loyalty, the haunting melodies of a saxophone, a woman's husky laughter. Turning slowly, he thought he saw the faint outline of a sword, yet when he blinked it was a puppet instead. Shaking his head, he frowned as his vision was filled with what appeared to be an oversized bullet spinning out of control and a giant with steam puffing out from the collar of its odd attire. Flashing light caught his attention and he blinked, taking a hasty step back as he saw twin machine guns revolving, silently spitting out a deadly rain of bullets before morphing into a shell bristling with spikes glinting in the darkness. From the corner of his eye he could make out the outline of what appeared to be a child before it blinked out of existence to be replaced with a large cross that suddenly split into two pieces. After a moment, the images disappeared and inky darkness reigned supreme once again. He was relieved. The figures had been disturbingly familiar, leaving him with a sense of disquiet and a hint of guilt. Part of him knew that he had created those beings, used them as tools in a diabolical scheme he couldn't quite remember at the moment.

 

After an interminable time of nothingness the darkness was abruptly shattered as strange objects began materializing hovering for a moment before shimmering and then winking out of existence. This repeated, each time lingering a little longer until, finally, he was able to recognize what he was seeing. Of course, upon recognition, he was even more bewildered. When, he thought with a frown, did I start dreaming of pudding cups? Watching the oddly graceful display of pudding dancing across his vision, he decided that it wasn't something he would dream about normally, which led him to believe it was someone else's thoughts intruding on his own. Pursing his lips thoughtfully, he amended the thought to it being his mind intruding into someone else's. But…who? Of course, he had no way of knowing whose thoughts were being displayed before him and no way of discovering the identity either…at least, not at the moment.

 

Just as he came to the decision to try to catch one of the dancing pudding cups they disappeared abruptly and were replaced with crosses. He studied the new objects with an inexplicable feeling of dread. It wasn't the same as the other vision; these crosses didn't split in two. Soon, the multitude of images swirled and formed into one and he took a hasty step back, throwing his hands up in a warding gesture, remembered horror and pain piercing the darkness as phantom shots rang out, ripping into his body. A silent scream burned within his chest as he fell back and kept falling, spiraling into an abyss that seemed to never end. For a moment, just a fleeting instant, red had suffused the blackness surrounding him, terrifying, hauntingly familiar, sending shockwaves of betrayal, love, disgust, surprise, frustration and anger…a myriad of conflicting emotions he was hard pressed to understand…throughout him.

 

When his splintered self became aware again, he heard a muffled voice close to him. “…en…ake up…” He tried to turn his head to catch the rest of the words drifting to him but gave up immediately when he was assailed with a dizzying wave of pain and nausea. “…ash is…ly…bout you…” It felt, to him, almost as if he had cotton balls stuffed in his ears and held in place with a healthy dose of duct tape. His mind tried to decipher the disjointed sentences bouncing around within it. Much to his frustration it seemed an impossible task. “…on't…ow…why…e brough…ere…” It was a feminine voice, he decided, though he wasn't certain how he could possibly know this. The voice was muffled almost beyond recognition, the words too muted to understand and the tone too soft to fully penetrate the fog clouding his half-conscious mind. “…ould be…n…pital…t…here…”

 

An elusive scent drifted to him as he contemplated the possible meaning behind the one-sided conversation drifting to him. He focused on that rather than the words he couldn't quite hear or understand. He felt he should know what the fragrance was and fought to put a name to it. Finally he decided that there was more than one scent. It was an interesting combination of gunpowder, ink, yeast and floral soap. He wasn't certain he liked the combination, yet it stuck in his mind, tugging at his senses. The effort it took to identify the teasing fragrance left him drained and he fought against the darkness rising up to engulf his mind again. He was afraid that if he gave in that he would be thrust into the nightmares plaguing his subconscious again. It would be nice, he thought tiredly as his senses slowly shut down, the voice fading into nothingness, the teasing scent lingering for a moment and following him into the darkness, if I could just remember what happened.

 

 

 

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