[ The steady flow of memories featuring Wolfwood -- most good, some painful, some funny, or frustrating, all felt deeply as treasures to be cherished -- stops abruptly when Nai calls his name. Immediately the memory shifts, Vash and Wolfwood standing in the ship, looking up at the map of the stars and the promise of contact with Earth fading into Vash and Knives, children with choppy haircuts and too-big jumpsuits, studying the path of the SEEDS fleet from its origin on a distant blue dot.
Brother?
That great fan of wings opens, curling around Nai -- and the other Vash -- and pulling them into the dappled shade beneath. Bringing them in close to where Wolfwood and Vash are clinging to each other for dear life, Vash's face still buried in Wolfwood's hair.
Brother
And then, quizzically, as the feathers wrap more snugly around the other Vash: ...us?
But the confusion only lasts a heartbeat, because brother is here, brother who is loved more than anyone ever born, brother who is the other half of his whole.
Always running, never tired, never cold or hot or hungry, laughing and fighting and rolling in the itchy green grass of the biosphere, twin heads huddled together over a computer display of art from a long-dead world, Vash turning away as the cowboy on the monitor clutches his chest and falls, Vash burying Knives's face in his armpit with a laugh when the zombie on the screen seems too real. Cooking spaghetti for the first time, and spattering every surface with greasy red specks. Tumbling weightlessly through zero-g in the quiet dark. A birthday, Rem in silly glasses and all his favorite foods spread out in front of them both, a day especially for them, to celebrate being a family. Joy and hope and curiosity and everything is new and bright and safe and he is loved and loves in return.
A computer file, glaringly bright in the darkness: Day 100 -- Trouble over a question of ethics. A dead girl, taken to pieces and stored in specimen jars. A girl who nobody loved.
Clawing his way to consciousness somewhere far too bright, unable to move, Knives speaking to another man at a close distance. All around are the beeps and hums of lab equipment, sample jars and syringes gleaming on the table at his head. Visions of Tessla fill his mind, and he goes blank with panic. The needles in his arm tear through his skin as he tries to pull away, and as the darkness swallows him back up, he hears Knives curse the doctor for letting him wake.
It's so hot, and he's so thirsty he can barely move. The dunes swim before him, and he imagines they're whitecaps on an ocean. With a coarse laugh he runs toward them, stumbling, rolling down the sandy incline and landing hard. Knives, still in his flight suit, stands over him with a scowl. Stop playing around. I told you, we don't need to eat or drink. We're above that. He'd protest, but his tongue is too swollen to make words.
A dark night, only the third moon above the horizon, and out of the sky above them rains a meteor shower made of broken ships and bodies. Knives laughs, hysterically, and doesn't stop for a long, long time. Vash stares, unable to feel anything, watching his world come apart.
Chained to a pillar in the middle of a dusty town, screaming in horror as Knives methodically tracks down and shreds every adult and child in the place. Their blood soaks the walls of the nearby buildings in an even ring all the way around the town center, because Vash left with one of them, and he shouldn't have done that. He shouldn't have left. Everyone is dead now, because he left Knives alone.
Knives, smirking, raises his hand, and in a wash of fear Vash's body stops responding. It's hot, isn't it? Knives laughs, excited, and it burns. It's so hot. Searing through his arm, like hot coals boiling and swelling inside him, something writhing and stretching, too big for his body to contain. He can feel it in his chest, behind his heart, pressing on his lungs. It's hard to handle the first time. It feels like he's splitting open. It's an amazing feeling of release! Knives is leaning over him, hand on the side of his face, and the world tilts sideways. Soon your restraints will loosen. His arm moves on it's own, and for the second time in his life, he points a shaking gun at his brother. Knives knocks it away, pinning him down, and then everything goes white.
He's so tired he's not sure any of this is real, so jacked up on adrenaline that he can barely feel the bullets that riddled his legs. He has one chance at this, and if he fails, he'll die. If he fails, the unconscious man on the ground behind him will die. He raises his arm, opening that place inside that releases the thing, the creature that is his true self. Knives, a god of light and horror in the sky above, screams curses down at him as he flees. Don't go, Vash! I really will kill you this time! He knows it's true, and as he falls from the ship with Wolfwood's body, he wonders if he's saved Knives the trouble, if the impact won't just kill them both.
His little brother, unconscious, broken by the horrors of humanity, sleeps on the far med booth. The other holds Rem, stained bandages around her hand and belly, where Vash stabbed her. He sits, nursing a juice packet, wondering what he'll do if neither of them wake up. Wondering how he'll survive if he's all alone. ]
no subject
Brother?
That great fan of wings opens, curling around Nai -- and the other Vash -- and pulling them into the dappled shade beneath. Bringing them in close to where Wolfwood and Vash are clinging to each other for dear life, Vash's face still buried in Wolfwood's hair.
Brother
And then, quizzically, as the feathers wrap more snugly around the other Vash: ...us?
But the confusion only lasts a heartbeat, because brother is here, brother who is loved more than anyone ever born, brother who is the other half of his whole.
Always running, never tired, never cold or hot or hungry, laughing and fighting and rolling in the itchy green grass of the biosphere, twin heads huddled together over a computer display of art from a long-dead world, Vash turning away as the cowboy on the monitor clutches his chest and falls, Vash burying Knives's face in his armpit with a laugh when the zombie on the screen seems too real. Cooking spaghetti for the first time, and spattering every surface with greasy red specks. Tumbling weightlessly through zero-g in the quiet dark. A birthday, Rem in silly glasses and all his favorite foods spread out in front of them both, a day especially for them, to celebrate being a family. Joy and hope and curiosity and everything is new and bright and safe and he is loved and loves in return.
A computer file, glaringly bright in the darkness: Day 100 -- Trouble over a question of ethics. A dead girl, taken to pieces and stored in specimen jars. A girl who nobody loved.
Clawing his way to consciousness somewhere far too bright, unable to move, Knives speaking to another man at a close distance. All around are the beeps and hums of lab equipment, sample jars and syringes gleaming on the table at his head. Visions of Tessla fill his mind, and he goes blank with panic. The needles in his arm tear through his skin as he tries to pull away, and as the darkness swallows him back up, he hears Knives curse the doctor for letting him wake.
It's so hot, and he's so thirsty he can barely move. The dunes swim before him, and he imagines they're whitecaps on an ocean. With a coarse laugh he runs toward them, stumbling, rolling down the sandy incline and landing hard. Knives, still in his flight suit, stands over him with a scowl. Stop playing around. I told you, we don't need to eat or drink. We're above that. He'd protest, but his tongue is too swollen to make words.
A dark night, only the third moon above the horizon, and out of the sky above them rains a meteor shower made of broken ships and bodies. Knives laughs, hysterically, and doesn't stop for a long, long time. Vash stares, unable to feel anything, watching his world come apart.
Chained to a pillar in the middle of a dusty town, screaming in horror as Knives methodically tracks down and shreds every adult and child in the place. Their blood soaks the walls of the nearby buildings in an even ring all the way around the town center, because Vash left with one of them, and he shouldn't have done that. He shouldn't have left. Everyone is dead now, because he left Knives alone.
Knives, smirking, raises his hand, and in a wash of fear Vash's body stops responding. It's hot, isn't it? Knives laughs, excited, and it burns. It's so hot. Searing through his arm, like hot coals boiling and swelling inside him, something writhing and stretching, too big for his body to contain. He can feel it in his chest, behind his heart, pressing on his lungs. It's hard to handle the first time. It feels like he's splitting open. It's an amazing feeling of release! Knives is leaning over him, hand on the side of his face, and the world tilts sideways. Soon your restraints will loosen. His arm moves on it's own, and for the second time in his life, he points a shaking gun at his brother. Knives knocks it away, pinning him down, and then everything goes white.
He's so tired he's not sure any of this is real, so jacked up on adrenaline that he can barely feel the bullets that riddled his legs. He has one chance at this, and if he fails, he'll die. If he fails, the unconscious man on the ground behind him will die. He raises his arm, opening that place inside that releases the thing, the creature that is his true self. Knives, a god of light and horror in the sky above, screams curses down at him as he flees. Don't go, Vash! I really will kill you this time! He knows it's true, and as he falls from the ship with Wolfwood's body, he wonders if he's saved Knives the trouble, if the impact won't just kill them both.
His little brother, unconscious, broken by the horrors of humanity, sleeps on the far med booth. The other holds Rem, stained bandages around her hand and belly, where Vash stabbed her. He sits, nursing a juice packet, wondering what he'll do if neither of them wake up. Wondering how he'll survive if he's all alone. ]