Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ I'm Free ❯ Chapter 9 ( Chapter 9 )

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 9

 

Gunsmoke, Present Day:

Memories were elusive things, he'd discovered. They were skittish, dancing away before he could grasp them, remaining just out of reach no matter how hard he tried to capture them. He was becoming increasingly frustrated by his inability to remember the details surrounding the circumstances that had placed him where he was…flat on his back, in tremendous pain, with five gunshot wounds placed in strategic areas on his body. And at the mercy of strangers. Can't forget that little detail. He sighed and shifted his weight slightly on the mattress. It still hurt, but he could at least do that much now.

He wasn't certain how long he'd been floating in and out of consciousness, but he was given the impression that he'd been in that state for some time. He opened his eyes and peered out the dirty and sand-pitted window at the sky, checking the position of the suns. She'll be here soon. Satisfied, he closed his eyes again and waited. He didn't have long to wait, just as he'd predicted. First, he could hear her footsteps as she approached, quiet yet purposeful. Next, he could hear her muttering to herself, the words muffled by the closed door and walls. A moment later, the door opened with the same annoying squeak it did every time and his senses were assaulted by a myriad of scents, the foremost being, of course, gunpowder, ink and floral soap. Oddly enough, the scent of yeast had faded with Vash's departure. He wondered, not for the first time, just how far from civilization they really were for it to take so long for a simple supply run. By his estimation, his brother had been gone for nearly a week.

His attention was drawn from his reverie when Meryl sighed and sat in the chair by his bed. “Just how long are you going to sleep anyway?” Her voice, like her footsteps, was quiet, yet filled with purpose. He had decided, when she'd first begun speaking to him…or rather, when he'd first become aware that she was speaking to him…that he liked her voice. In some ways it was soothing, in others challenging. He thought it an odd combination, but that didn't make it any less pleasant. Much like her scent. He thought with an inward smile. He knew he'd always associate gunpowder and ink with Meryl now. “It's boring just waiting around with a comatose psychopath.” This was, of course, not the first time she'd made that kind of reference to him. He really wished his memory would hurry up and return so he'd know what she was talking about. “It wasn't so bad when Millie and Vash were here…but now…” She sighed deeply again. “It's a bad sign when you're lonely and bored enough to want humankind's number one enemy to wake up so you can engage in a bit of small talk.” She snorted lightly. “Yeah. I can see it now. So, Knives, any plans for today? Oh, besides plotting the annihilation of my species, that is.” She gave a short bark of laughter containing no humour. “Yeah, right. Like that would go over well at all.”

He wondered what he'd done to elicit such a negative opinion of himself in the woman sitting at his bedside. To say she disliked him was an understatement and a half. He could feel animosity rolling off of her in waves of negativity whenever she was near him. It was, at the very least, disconcerting. Despite her obvious aversion, she took care of him admirably. His bandages were checked six times a day…why so often, he wasn't certain, but he felt that perhaps she was just a thorough person…and changed three times. She never failed to make certain his sheet was tucked securely around his body, and she was quite fastidious in her attempts to keep him reasonably comfortable. For someone who hated him as much as she seemed to, she certainly spent a lot of time seeing to his well-being.

“There's something I'd like to know…” She murmured softly as she stood, the chair creaking with her movement. The next instant he could feel her breath, scented with coffee, lightly fanning his face. “How can you survive for so long without eating or drinking? Is it a Plant thing or something? I'd think for sure you'd have either wasted away from starvation or dehydration after all this time…but no…there you are, still asleep and looking none the worse for wear despite having five gunshot wounds and not moving for close to four months.” She sighed again and moved away. “Yeah…must be a Plant thing.” The chair creaked again as she sat. “It really isn't fair, you know.” She paused and the moment stretched a bit longer than was comfortable and he began to wonder if she'd continue or leave the comment hanging in the air between them. “You look so much like him that I have to constantly remind myself how unlike him you actually are…” Naturally, he knew immediately that she was referring to Vash. “I just don't get it. How can you even be brothers? He's so sweet and kind…and you…” Another pause, this one much shorter than the last. “And you're the complete opposite.”

As silence descended again, he was left wondering just what sort of person he actually was and why would someone like Meryl, who so obviously detested him, aid in his recovery. If he really was as horrible a person as she implied, then why hadn't she just killed him, or at the very least left him to his own devices rather than helping him? It was a puzzle and he was determined to unravel it, no matter how long it took. Of course, he really had nothing better to do at the moment, either, considering he was currently confined to a bed with missing gaps still remaining in his memory. Perhaps the answers he sought would come to him when the last remaining pieces to the puzzle that had become his mind finally clicked into place. He hoped it would be soon…he was discovering that he really didn't have a lot of patience for this sort of thing.

“These supply runs are really very troublesome.” His attention was drawn out of his morose thoughts again by her voice. “I suppose I understand why Vash insisted on taking up residence in the middle of nowhere, all things considered…but it really is inconvenient.” He risked opening his eyes a little and peering at her from beneath his lashes. She was seated again in the chair, one arm draped over the back while the other fanned herself ineffectively with a book. “It's stuffy in here.” She muttered before sitting up straight and glaring at the window. “Naturally he had to put you in the room where the window doesn't open.” She shook her head, expression revealing her exasperation. “Honestly…how does he expect you to recover with no fresh air?” He found himself wondering the same thing and fought to hold back a smile. “I should try starting a garden. The well has plenty of water and every little bit helps.” She sighed and shook her head again. “Bernardelli is still paying Millie and I to keep Vash under twenty-four hour surveillance, but eventually even that will run out when they realize that he's been neutralized and not causing any more trouble.” She dropped her head into her hands. “I don't know what we're going to do when that happens.” She chuckled softly and shook her head, not lifting it from where it was still cradled in her hands. “Well, I suppose…just to keep things interesting and the pay cheque coming in…” She lifted her head and leaned back in the chair again. “Vash could go and blow up a jail or a bank.” She laughed lightly and shook her head. “What am I saying? Like that would help anything.” She sighed and lifted her book to fan her face again. “No, that would just bring more trouble than we need right now. Like we need more bounty hunters looking for him.”

He wondered if his brother realized the financial troubles that were looming over their heads. He wasn't entirely certain he understood everything Meryl was telling him…albeit unwittingly since she still thought he was unconscious…but he did understand enough to know that they were walking a tightrope that could snap at any moment. Not that he felt that he had much to do with the current situation. As she'd already pointed out, he didn't really do much more than take up space in a bed. One of the benefits, he determined, to being able to slow his metabolism to such a degree. Vash, he decided, would do well to follow his example. As Plants, they didn't require much by way of nourishment as long as they didn't expend large amounts of energy indiscriminately. Like so many other things recently, he wasn't entirely certain how he knew this, just that he did. He thought of his brother's love for doughnuts and mentally shook his head. Just because he could get away with it without having to worry about things such as cholesterol, diabetes, and other such human health problems didn't mean he should be a glutton. He wrinkled his nose a little. His lack of self-control is…disgusting.

“I wish they'd hurry up already and get back. It really is boring sitting here and talking to myself.” She shifted on the chair until she was slouched, her head falling back to rest over the spine of the chair, her legs stretched out in front of her and crossed at the ankles. “I suppose it's preferable to you actually being awake…but still…every now and then it would be nice to have someone else to talk to other than myself or the four walls.” She rolled her head to the side and eyed the typewriter sitting on the small bedside table. “I guess I could type up another report…but…” She sighed deeply and allowed her head to roll back to its previous position. “I'm already six weeks ahead. I really shouldn't be writing reports that far ahead in the first place…any more and they're going to realize the truth sooner rather than later. And then we're going to be in more trouble than I want to even begin to imagine.” She shuddered and sat up straight again. “All we need right now is to have Bernardelli send out another insurance investigator to investigate us. Yeah, that would go really well. How the heck would I explain everything that's been going on without sounding like I belong in a mental institution?”

Personally, he thought she was worrying over nothing. From what he'd heard since regaining his senses, she should be enjoying the break from the mayhem that seemed to follow his brother around doggedly, not complaining about the inactivity and boredom. He almost said so, too, but decided against it. He wanted to learn as much as he could while the opportunity was presented to him. He had a feeling she wouldn't be nearly as talkative if she were to know that he was awake, aware and listening to everything she said.

 

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