Chapter 19

Frozen in mid-strike, Knives' hand trembled. His entire body shook with strain. The tendons in his neck bulged and his teeth clenched.

I strained my ears until I faintly heard him gasping out words to himself.

"Why...can't I...so simple...why...can't..." He hissed through his teeth.

Everyone present held their breath, fearing that one wrong motion could release the spell that held Knives frozen. It seemed that the situation was going to stay like that for eternity until, finally, Milly summoned up the courage to do something.

It's even more remarkable to me now as I think back on what happened. The one of us that was in the direst and most direct danger was the one that finally did something. Milly's belief in inherent goodness was and is as strong as an iron pillar.

She tentatively reached up with one hand and touched Knives' arm. Knives twitched slightly at this contact, but he didn't make a move to attack. Then Milly began to speak. To this day I still am not sure what exactly she said, for her whisper was intended for Knives and only Knives, but whatever it was must have been powerful. After minutes that stretched on like hours, with gentle pressure, Milly coaxed Knives' arm down. Then, my brother went limp as a dead fish, barely keeping himself upright.

Milly turned to me, Meryl, and Wosh and smiled. That smile, reassuring, bright, and confident, felt like a restoring ray of sunshine on me. At that moment, I also realized that the first touches of glowing pink dawn were approaching on the horizon. No words had to be said; I could feel it. Within one night, the one thing I had been working at for more than a century was complete. The burden lifted up from my shoulders and I felt completely free. As if released from a spell, Meryl ran over to me.

"Are you alright?" She asked softly, the hint of tears shining in her eyes. The cool pre-dawn light made her eyes glow violet and I traced he cheekbone with my hand. So beautiful, I thought.

"I'm fine," I said.

She helped me up and together we stumbled across the square towards Milly and Knives, the latter of whom seemed to be yet again unconscious.

"All's well that ends well, eh Vash?" I heard a voice rasping from the ground.

"Wosh!" I turned quickly and landed a little harder than I might've wanted to on the ground next to him. I looked into his eyes and immediately felt tears rising in my own. I had seen that look in the eyes of many men in my life, and I knew all too well what it meant. Wosh was dying.

"Such a crybaby..." He managed a half-hearted laugh that sounded more like a wheeze and coughed violently.

"Why didn't you tell me you were this bad? You wasted all of your energy protecting me and—"

"Shut up, for God's sake." A note of authority entered his voice. "Can't a man die in peace any more? Besides, there's nothing that can be done to change it now. I've done all I ever wanted to do in my life, and my only regret is that I didn't get the chance to tell you the tr—"he was cut off by more coughing. When the fit ended, he reached into a pocket of his coat and pulled out a somewhat wrinkled, bloodstained envelope and thrust it into my hand.

"Read it, Vash." He rasped. "I wrote it in case something like this happened."

"You can just tell me now, we have ti—"

"That's a damned lie, and you know it. All I ever wanted—"More coughing. "This week has been the best I've lived. I'm proud to have known you, Vash. I'm proud to have...to have had you...as..."

The light faded from his eyes and he slumped to the ground.

Tears flowed freely down my cheeks as I slowly closed his eyes and Meryl helped me stand up again. I held the crimson envelope in my hand and stood in silence as I watched the sun rise, tinged with red.

Both twins were confined to their beds after the incident by two overly protective insurance girls...well, one insurance girl and one former insurance girl.

I didn't have much time to think about my lack of a job since I spent most of my time cooking or cleaning or shopping to satisfy the appetites and needs of two Plants and one Milly. I spent most of my free time talking with Vash, mostly about random, inconsequential, meaningless things at the beginning, then after a few days we talked about what had happened during the period of our separation. Though I was still too embarrassed to tell him about my painting obsession.

After 5 days, I knew he still hadn't opened the letter from Wosh. He was up and about by that point but I still noticed it sitting, untouched and unopened on the nightstand where he had reverently placed it that morning five days ago. The blood was crusted and dry, and it had gone from red to a dark brownish-maroon. However, the word "Vash", written in a dark, steady hand was still visible on it. I thought it would be best for him to read its contents but I wasn't going to push him. He would open it in his own good time. And if his own good time finally ran out, then I would threaten to withhold doughnuts until he did.

On the morning of the sixth day, Milly, who had been taking off work to visit with Knives, announced that Vash's twin was ready to come out of his room.

"He's really feeling a lot better!" She said brightly, setting the table while I flipped pieces of French toast.

"Are you sure, Milly?" I asked uneasily, setting down my spatula and turning to look at her.

"Vash agreed with me. I don't think he'll talk much, but he can be civil enough. Plus, if he stays in bed too long he'll never fully regain his strength."

I sighed almost imperceptibly. It was hard for me to believe that Knives had changed completely. How could his apparently unalterable hatred for humans be reversed in a matter of days? After a long moment of inner struggle, I surrendered and turned back to my French toast.

"I guess I'd better make some more, then. Those two are going to eat me out of my house."

I couldn't see her, but I felt Milly smile. It brightened the room and seemed to cast a warm glow on everything surrounding her. For a split second I understood what had made Knives convert. What hatred could stand in the face of such pure love and compassion?

Ten minutes or so later, Milly and Knives appeared in the doorway, the former supporting the latter. He didn't look up at me as he entered; his gaze was distant and cast downward, strangely confused and sad looking. I tried not to look at him as I bustled around, filling plates and glasses. The look in his eyes reminded me with eerie intensity of how Vash had looked after killing Legato.

Speaking of which...where was he? Meals were usually the only thing he was ever on time for. Not to mention the fact that I had bought a fresh box of doughnuts that morning.

"Vash!" I hollered down the hallway to the guestroom, where both Vash and his brother were staying. There was no response. "Vash...?"

It stared at me. First portentously. Then accusingly. Finally, it pleaded. I flinched every time my eyes wandered across its worn surface. The blood crusting on it seemed to cry out in lament to its fallen owner.

"I have to open it," I muttered to myself. "He wanted me to read whatever's in it."

Yet despite that fact, an intense sense of foreboding lurked in the deep part of my mind, a part which it usually benefited me to listen to.

In addition to that, another prominent voice that sounded interestingly like an amalgam of both Meryl and Knives' voices shouted Open it, you idiot! It's a letter, not a bomb!

That's right, I thought to myself. Nothing to fear but fear itself, or whatever. I gathered my courage, steadied my gunslinger's hands, picked up the envelope, and quickly ran a finger under the seal.

The paper was in surprisingly good condition considering the state of the envelope. The only blood that had soaked through showed in splotchy spots that looked ominously like someone had cried crimson tears onto the letter.

I unfolded it slowly, stopping to smooth it out carefully before focusing on the letters. When finally I'd done all I could and had no other way to stall, I began to read.

Dear Vash,

I've always hated the way that sounded. "Dear". You address a letter with "dear" even if you barely know the person you're writing to. Yet it's more personal than "to whom it may concern". I guess "dear" is more appropriate for this kind of letter, but I still hate the way it sounds. It's hard for me to write this. I imagine you had trouble opening the envelope as well. You've got a very strong sense of empathy, even for inanimate objects

That's one of the many things I have to thank you for. Have you caught on to this dark secret of mine? I suspect that Knives has by this point, but you never know for sure. He's impenetrable. Impregnable. I can feel now that he's planning something. I would warn you Vash, but I don't know what to warn you of. I feel like something is going to happen. If you're reading this letter, it obviously already has.

I'm rambling now, though. My hope was that on paper everything would be easier to say. Okay, gathering my courage. Here goes nothing.

I told you when we first met that my mother was a prostitute. That she had borne one child before me with a different father, but put him up for adoption. I knew his name. She told me. She was proud of him. His guardian sent her letters sometimes. His name was Nicholas D. Wolfwood. Shocking, eh? I knew you wouldn't have guessed. You don't believe in fate. You believe in making your own destiny. It's a shame that it doesn't always turn out right.

That's not all though. That's not why I'm writing post-mortem explanation. I took the liberty of sorting through your thoughts to find parts that would make what I'm saying here more believable. It wasn't hard, really. Remember Nicholas's motorcycle? Named Angelina? It always rang a bell for you, didn't it, though you never could remember why. You assumed that it was due to the fact that you were an Plant. But that wasn't it. You've slept with a few less-than-reputable women in your life span. I don't blame you. More than a century without getting any would be hell. Not long after the Lost July incident, you spent the night with one in some nothing town in the middle of nowhere. Her name was Angelina. She was my mother. And nine months later, I was born.

I hope you won't delude yourself with excuses and alternate explanations. I knew it from the moment I met you. I knew my lifelong search for my roots was complete. The explanation that I'd always wanted was right there in front of me, with a too-young face and too-old eyes. Where else could I have gained my mental and physical abilities? Where else could I have gained the ability to communicate with Plants?

I'm eternally sorry that this is the way I had to tell you. Please don't feel guilty. I was glad just to be able to know you before I died. There's nothing more I ever wanted from this world.

With affection and friendship,

Your son,

Wosh

I dimly heard Meryl calling my name from the kitchen as I let the letter slowly slip from my fingers.

Whoo...that was rather long. And by long I mean both the chapter and the wait. I'm really sorry that it took so long. Most of the time I just forgot about it or put it off. I've had about half of this chapter written for months now, but I was incited to finish it when I got a review today from Divinya9, to whom this chapter is dedicated, asking me to finish it. Hopefully there'll be about 1 or 2 chapters left and hopefully I'll get them done in a short amount of time. Thanks for sticking with me!

-Misoks