Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Midvalley's Serenade ❯ A Time To Mourn ( Chapter 37 )

A Time to Mourn

It was almost midnight when Hot Lips walked with me to the undertaker's. The streets were empty except for the sheriff and a couple of deputies who were heading down towards the saloon to see what had happened. I'm sure people were curious about the sonic boom but not curious enough to risk their lives to see what had caused it.

The undertaker was already up and dressed by the time I knocked on the door. I guess the shock wave had him anticipating new business.

He followed me to the saloon with a wagon and an assistant to help him in recovering the bodies of my dead friends.

I ended up paying for nine burials in all, for Miss Adelaide and the bar girl, Josie, for Dave and Lenny, Dixie and Randy, Sunny, Toby and Jason.

I was oddly devoid of emotion during the transaction with the undertaker but afterward fell into a morbid frame of mind. It only got worse when I felt an almost crippling pain through my link with Legato. Knives was using him hard.

"Serves you right, you fucking bastard," I muttered, but it hurt so bad I couldn't hold back tears. I don't think Hot Lips knew what I was going through, but he took a flask of whisky from his pocket and urged me to drink. I swallowed the whisky like a man dying of thirst. He had to stop me from draining the bottle.

"Don't kill yourself with it, son," I remember him saying. The liquor did dull the pain for a while, and soon I felt nothing through the link. While I was walking down the street, I stumbled and found myself leaning against a wall while the heavens spun above me. I felt arms around my shoulder supporting me as I walked unsteadily.

Later I remembered the feel of the cool wood of a scarred table top under my cheek, then a moment later it seemed, the feel of sand under my hands and knees as I threw up in an alley. Drunk as I was, I still recognized chunks of cheesecake and raspberry sauce. The memory of sucking on Legato's lips and tongue was all too vivid then and in the streets at two in the morning I bellowed at the top of my lungs, "God damn you to hell, Legato, you fucking bastard!! I hate you!!!"

I might have gone on shouting, but Hot Lips hushed me and lent me a hand.

"Get up, son. You'll feel better when you get a little sleep."

"He lied to me, Hot Lips. He used me," I said as I struggled to my feet. "He fucking set me up---"

"I know you hate him, son. Come on, that's it, just a few more steps and then in the door here…"

" I hate him," I mumbled under my breath.

I remember sinking onto a bed and holding my head in my hands moaning, "Oh, God, Nick…"

"It's all right, Midvalley. Get some sleep you'll feel better in the morning."

Hands gently lay me down on a soft mattress and covered me with a blanket.

"I hate him," I mumbled while the room twirled round and round. .Just before I fell asleep, I heard a voice in my head that whispered, "You killed your friends and cheated on your lover. Don't you really hate yourself more?"

"Shut up, you bastard," I moaned.

In the darkened room, I wept. I hated myself.

I woke up next morning on a bed in Hot Lips' hotel room wishing I was dead.

Hot Lips was moving around the room quietly. He stood by my bed with a glass of water and handed me a couple of pain pills.

"You've got to get up, Midvalley. Master Knives will expect reports by this evening and there's something else we need to do first."

I didn't question him. I swallowed the medicine and got up to face the day.

A little later, Hot Lips and I walked to the cemetery. We brought along our instruments.

The gravediggers were just marking the graves of our band mates with crosses when we arrived. I wished that Nick could have been there to say words. He was an eloquent speaker, but it seemed somehow fitting that their final tribute be music.

Hot Lips unpacked his trumpet and with some concern, I pulled Silvia from her case, slid the strap round my neck and was about to put my lips on the reed, when I got worried and I asked Hot Lips, "Do you think it's safe for me to play."

"I think so," he said a little tentatively. "Just keep your eyes open, son."

I looked at him, nodded and blew my first notes.

I thought of my dead friends as I played, for shy Toby who added so much to the sound of our band but never boasted of his skill, for Jason who played his fiddle with such fire and for Sunny whose sensitive creativity moved me so many times . Tears rolled down my cheeks as I remembered Dixie and the way the music flowed out of her so effortlessly, and Randy who cherished her, and Dave who loved Lenny as Nick loved me. I offered my final song to Lenny who worshipped with me for so many years at the altar of music.

I like to think we played their souls to rest. I couldn't help wishing there was an afterlife and that the beauty of the music that my friends made would not be silenced forever. I closed my eyes and continued to play while the tears flowed and it was all I could do, to keep my lips on the mouthpiece.

"Open your eyes, son," my father prompted me.

I opened them and noticed that the air had begun to thicken. I stopped playing and rubbed the cuff of my sleeve across my eyes.

"Listen," said Hot Lips.

I could have sworn I heard music, a tinkle of keys, the strum of a guitar, a pounding drum rhythm. My heart constricted thinking somehow that my prayer had been answered, and then I realized that a breeze had carried the sound of music being made in town to my ears. Hot Lips exchanged a glance with me, and we ended up laughing.

"It's a beautiful thought though, isn't it, Midvalley," he said.

"Yes, it is," I replied.

We stood there for several minutes in silence. Then I moved to where Miss Adelaide and Rosie were buried. I thought again how harsh this planet was on women. I was well aware all the time we were there that this was the cemetery where my mother was buried.

I found myself drawn to her grave. Hot Lips followed me. A wooden cross with her name carved on it marked the site.

My mother, despite her profession had been a believer. Windstorms had worn down the letters but I could still read them…Silvia. I found myself full of sadness and regret. I brought the mouthpiece to my lips and began to play "Silvia's Tune". I had always wished that my mother could hear the song I wrote for her. Now seemed like a good time.

Hot Lips joined it. We played no fancy trills or embellished the song in any way but just let the simple melodic line flow through our horns and it was enough. I sank to my knees afterward and tried to remember her as she had been. Hot Lips stood behind me and put his hands on my shoulders.

I broke down and wept at the wreckage my life had become. Hot Lips sank down behind me and held me while I grieved. In a few minutes, the emotional storm passed, but my sense of hopelessness persisted.

Hot Lips shifted and we both ended up sitting on the ground by the grave.

"There's no hope, is there?" I asked my father.

"There's always hope, Midvalley."

"In a fool's paradise, maybe, but I'm a realist."

"Your mother was a believer and so am I."

"And when you're dead, that will make two less believers," I scoffed at my father's naivete.

"I still believe in the prophecies," said Hot Lips, "and I believe that one day I will be reunited with your mother again in an Eden where there will be no stealing, no killing or hatred. My love for your mother is still so strong that not even death can defeat it. I'll see her again some day, Midvalley. I have no doubt about that."

He uttered those words with fierce certainty, but then wept, his shoulders shaking with the sadness that overwhelmed him.

"If your faith is so strong than why are you crying?" I asked when his tears slowed.

"Because I still miss her so much, Midvalley."

I was overcome by my own grief then and we fell into each others arms as we both wept again.

As much as I missed her, I missed Nick just as much. I was afraid I would never see him again and I wept as much for that as for my mother. Finally our tears dried and we separated again and sat once more.

Hot Lips reached into his jacket, pulled out cigarettes, lit them and handed me one. I took it and inhaled hungrily, thinking of Nick as I smoked.

My father took a drag and when he exhaled he said, "The first time I left your mother because of my jealousy, I always held out hope that I'd see her again. It may sound stupid, but I prayed that she'd stop giving herself to other men and love only me. It took longer than I thought for my prayer to be answered. Almost 10 years, but when I returned, she told me she loved me and she would be faithful to me. I had prayed that she love only me, but I found that I had to share that love with you."

"So were you jealous again?"

"No, not at all. That's the funny thing, when I saw you and recognized that you were a part of me, I realized that I didn't really know how to pray, but it strengthened my faith to know that the deepest wishes of my heart were granted without my even asking."

"You wanted me?"

"More than you can imagine. I only wish I could have spent more time with you, but making music with you has meant a lot to me."

I nodded, but couldn't speak.

"I know you're afraid, Midvalley," said Hot Lips.

I looked at him like he was out of his mind.

"You're afraid you'll never see Nick again. You're afraid if you do, that Knives will kill him out of spite," he continued.

"There's no way out," I said.

He answered with an intensity that had me almost convinced for a moment, "If you ask, it will be given to you. Knock and the door will be opened. Faith is the key."

I smiled for what seemed to be the first time in days, "You're nuts, Hot Lips," I said with a small shake of my head.

"Hey, I did my best. I planted the seed anyway," he said with an answering smile. "I believe you'll see him again. I think you two were meant for each other."

"You're such a romantic, dad," I said. I felt a strong bond of affection between us.

"I'll see your mother again too, and when we're finally together, nothing will part us again."

He said it with such certainty, I almost believed him.

"You're really nuts, dad," I said with another smile, "but I love you anyway."

"I love you too, son. I'll pray for you."

"Thanks, I'd like that," I said. "I don't know that He'd answer my prayers. I've done too many things I'm ashamed of."

"We all have," said Hot Lips with a look of regret, "but don't give up hope, son. There's at least one thing that Knives can't do and that's stop you from hoping, believing and loving."

His words gave me a sense of peace and we sat in silence a few minutes longer. I closed my eyes and thought of Nick. The warmth of my memories of him eased the ache in my heart. My father's voice wakened me from the reverie.

"Sorry to disturb you, but I've got to get to the depot soon, Midvalley. Master Knives will be expecting our reports."

I was silent, but I got up and Hot Lips walked with me part of the way back to headquarters. We parted at the depot and I wept again as we hugged good-bye.

"If I don't see you again, son, remember that I always loved you. You're a good man, Midvalley," he said.

"I wish I could believe that, " I murmured to myself as I watched him walk away.

When I got to Headquarters, I decided to review all the reports from Mouth of Gabriel agents received since the disappearance of Vash the Stampede. I read through more than a hundred reports where agents had followed up on tips, but each ended the same way…Negative contact, no further leads available. I noted on a map of the planet, the source of every report. After plotting over a hundred locations of no contact just outside of Augusta. I began to wonder when he'd left the place.

I tried to put myself in his shoes. If I had put out the energy that Vash the Stampede had, well, I'd be dead of course, I thought. Whenever I dug too deeply into my energy reserves, I always felt sick afterwards, usually with a headache and a need to sleep.

I wondered if the same was true of the Humanoid Typhoon. He'd spent so much of the day shooing people away. That would have been tiring. Then there was the match with Rai-dei the Blade. He spent much energy dodging Rai-dei's attacks. And not long after, he unleashed the shock wave that turned Augusta into a pile of rubble and cratered the fifth moon. It was truly frightening that he had the ability to shoot an energy bolt that powerful such an unimaginably long distance. But if he put out that much energy, he must have been exhausted., I reasoned. If he was one of the last to leave the city environs, bringing up the tail end of the long line of refugees, that could explain why there had been no sightings of Vash the Stampede.

Another reason might be that it would have been easy enough for him to change his appearance. One of the earliest reports detailed that remnants of a red coat, presumably that of Vash the Stampede, had been found in the vicinity of Rai-dei the Blade's body. If weariness that caused the Stampede to slouch, it would hide his height. Simply running his hands through his hair would be enough to alter his extreme hairstyle. A cloak or a blanket to cover his body would finish his disguise.

Who would be willing to take in a homeless man? Most men and women would be wary unless he were exhausted perhaps and seemed harmless. Probably only a kind-hearted woman would take him in, the way my mother had taken in Bill McFarlane. Funny, how'd I'd forgotten that about him.

I worked on a report for Knives the rest of the day. Late in the afternoon, one of Leonof's puppets summoned me. I walked to the mansion and another puppet brought me into Knives' study almost immediately.

"Report," ordered Knives. "I suppose you'll bore me with the same drivel that everyone else has," he sighed in a condescending tone.

"I've been doing some analysis of the information sent back by informants," I said, " and I wanted to ask you if you knew what kind of person your brother might seek shelter with if he was exhausted. I was thinking that a woman would be more likely to give him shelter than a man."

For some reason when he looked at me, he appeared to be exceptionally angry. I looked away and concentrated on emptying myself of all thought and merely breathed. In a moment his anger calmed, and he said in a more reflective tone, "That's a good thought, Hornfreak. My brother has shown some affinity for women in the past. You're probably wrong, but still a good thought. Go on with your report."

"I plotted these points on the map," I said, and held the document out to him. Knives took it and looked at it.

I believe he hasn't traveled far and may be living in one of the small farms or ranches on the outskirts of Augusta," I continued. "Though that area has supposedly been thoroughly checked, I believe that agents were looking for a man alone. A man living with a single woman might still draw comment, but possibly not if there were children present. You said he was fond of children. He might be exchanging chores for room and board. There are quite a few homeless doing that. I think that when he's found we'll find him in a situation like that."

"Not bad, Hornfreak. I'll have Legato share all the reports he receives with you from now on. You two will make such a great team," said Knives in a voice dripping with disdain. "If you find my brother for me, maybe I'll let you and the priest partner up again."

My heart quickened to hear that, and Knives just laughed at my reaction.

"Then again probably not. I just said that to see how you'd react," Knives drawled lazily and then chuckled some more. "You should see the expression on your face. So disappointed."

I got control of my emotions, made no comment and waited for him to dismiss me.

"You may go now," he said.

I left without another word.

Legato was waiting outside the study when I exited. I registered it was him and felt a wave of disgust wash over me. I could feel his pain over my reaction to him.

"Midvalley," he said.

"Yes?" I said coldly.

"I'd like to review some reports with you when Master Knives is finished with me," he began and then placed a thick stack of documents in my arms. I walked back to the office at headquarters, put aside my angry feelings and concentrated on my work. I started to leaf through the papers.

Zazie's report concerning his contact with the hive mind, merely read, "No trace as yet."

Leonof's report similarly indicated no leads. Most of the report was concerned with the cities that he had placed puppets in. So far, he had placed them in Mei City and a number of small outlying towns.

I was just about to start with the Evergreen's report when I felt pain through the link with Legato.

Knives was fucking him again and hurting him badly. It seemed to me from what I felt that Legato's body was nothing more to him that an object to inflict pain on.

Knives beat him, slapped him, cut him, clawed him--I would say he raped him, had Legato not so willingly submitted and I found myself weeping again as Legato wept.

Legato felt no pleasure through the ordeal until Knives had his orgasm and in that softened state, when his master stopped inflicting pain, Legato's relief and mine was intense.

Once my nerve endings stopped screaming, I was reminded of my own behavior with Legato the day before and I was ashamed of myself.

Still, it was Legato and I hated him, didn't I? But it was almost impossible to hate the man when I felt what he felt. And I knew he was in great pain.

Had he really set me up to be raped at the White Cat? The thought of how he betrayed me enraged me and I began to wonder at how quickly Legato had shown up my doorstep the day my mother was killed. Had it all been planned as a way to exploit my talent and a continued guarantee of my father's loyalty?

But when the heat of anger passed, I remembered that Legato had shaken his head, no. Why?

"He set me up!" I shouted to the room angrily, but then, I calmed myself as I remembered his kindness to me.

"He gave me the money to bury my mother," I whispered to myself.

"He set me up!!!"

"He saved my life---twice," I reminded myself.

"He set me up!!"

I treated him just as badly the day before. There was no excuse for what I'd done to him. I was no better than he was.

Time passed. Legato had planned to meet me but never showed up. I was sure he must have returned to his quarters. I began to feel Legato's pain again, as infection from the wounds that Knives had inflicted began to grow. Why wasn't Legato caring for himself? Was he too weak from what he endured?

"Why else, Midvalley?" I asked myself.

I remembered how exhausted I'd been after Knives had raped me. Even when I'd pissed and shit myself, Legato had cleaned me up and warmed me with his body when the chills were at their worst. I remembered that and felt myself drawn to the door of Legato's room. I found myself standing outside debating whether to knock or walk away. What had brought me here anyway? Maybe it was my guilt over what I'd done to him. Maybe sympathy? But he set me up, I reminded myself yet again. I almost walked away at that point.

I waited outside the door for a few more minutes. I knew that Legato was aware of me. I wanted to see if he would attempt to influence my decision. He did nothing. He was too weak and in too much pain.

I found that I pitied the man, so I knocked and entered.

Legato was lying quietly on his bed. I had never seen him looking so low. I helped him sit up and eased him out of his coat. When I took off his shirt, I saw that it was wet with blood. I found a healing salve on a shelf in his bathroom and treated his wounds with it. He sighed with relief as the pain eased, but still he said nothing. I brought him some pills for the pain and a glass of water. He took the medicine I offered him and lay down again. I pulled the sheets up and covered him.

I had my hand on the doorknob and was just about to leave when I heard him say, "Midvalley."

"What," I asked.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but then the light left his eyes and he just said, "Nothing."

I went back to my room and got ready for bed. I took Silvia out of her case and sat holding her for the longest time. I was still almost afraid to play her, afraid that if I closed my eyes, I would kill again. I sighed heavily.

I thought of things my father had said to me about me and Nick---that he believed we were meant for each other and that we'd see each other again. All I had to do was ask and it would be given to me.

"Sentimental fool."

Knock and the door will open, he'd said.

"More likely slam in your face," I said.

I brought Silvia's reed to my mouth and began to play "Serenade", the song that I had written for Nick. Linked to Silvia, I said my next words in the privacy of that communion where no one, not even Knives could hear. It couldn't hurt to try it, after all.

"God, let me be with Nick again."

To Be Continued