Don't own Trigun. Don't sue. No money. Just cheese and crackers. :offers: This is based in the anime-verse ONLY. Never got a chance to pick up the manga. They don't have manga where I live. It's illegal, or amoral, or against someone's religion. I have no idea what the problem is. This is set the day after Vash returned to Milly and Meryl with Knives in tow.

Warning – PG-13 for language and violence. Surprise.

See the Author's Notes at the end for an explanation.

-

He wrapped his arms more tightly around his knees as the entire house shook.

The room was small, non-descript, and filthy. The single bed, centered on the wall opposite the door, was rumpled and unkempt, and looked as though its last occupant had fled some time ago in a great hurry. Dust settled from the simple plaster ceiling on the ragged and torn brown blanket, fading it even more than the filtered light that still seeped past a permanent film of sand and dirt.

A not-too-distant crash reverberated through the weakened structure, and he clearly heard the wood of the door shatter.

Only one more.

Are you crying, brother?

He didn't respond, didn't react. He simply huddled in the corner, his crimson duster wrapped tightly around him, his mechanical arm the closest to the bedroom door and his right curled tightly around him. No matter how closely he collapsed in on himself, no matter how many barriers he put between him and everything else, he could still feel it.

The hole.

There was nothing more to fill it up with.

Measured footsteps, down that familiar hall. The floorboards hadn't felt the tread of anyone in nearly half a century, and complained bitterly. He could hear the sand and dust being kicked up, he could hear the sound of the slick material sliding past those airborne particles.

He was here. There was nowhere else to go.

Those feet stopped outside the bedroom door, and he sensed more than heard the intruder sizing it up. He'd taken the precaution of putting the only chair in the room under the doorknob, and he was facing the bedroom window, so that he could push off from the back wall and take a clear exit out.

But he was in no position to do that. Not now.

Why? Why did they have to die?

Behind the door, there was an impatient sigh.

How long can you ask yourself the same question before you tire of it, brother?

He squeezed his eyes tightly closed, denying them even as more tears poured down his cheeks. They'd carved a permanent scar in his face, like water and time through the deep rock of the aquifers.

The common doorknob turned, then rattled gently, and there was an experimental shove at the door.

-

Really, brother. What did you think was going to happen?

No. No no no nonononononono-

He threw himself out of the chair towards the door, favoring his shoulder as the violent act tore at the just-closed bullet wounds. Before the echo of that sound had begun its death he was flying down the short hall, his feet barely touching the dusty floorboards.

Sticky, beneath his boot. Out of place in the sand that perpetually crawled indoors.

He glanced down as he sprinted towards the sound, noting the size and darkness of the droplets. They entered the hall at the doorjamb of the girls' room, and trailed quite steadily towards the joint bathroom before expanding into puddles. The bathroom door was half ajar, and the terrible sound was starting again.

How -?

It's really quite simple. I could demonstrate again if you like. . .

No gunshot. He hadn't heard a gunshot.

He slid the last few yards on the slicked floor, angling his body to present his mechanical arm first. No gunshot, so it was a blade of some kind, from the kitchen maybe –

He wasn't even really conscious. He couldn't have manifested a knife. He would have heard her come into the room. Neither of them walked so quietly he wouldn't have heard them.

He hadn't even been sleeping. How could he have missed it -?

He put the mechanical hand to the door and threw it open, keeping it angled defensively, and put his weight on his back right foot. He could stop the attack no matter her position –

But she wasn't facing him.

A curved back, clad in a sky-blue nightshirt, glared at him instead. Handprints, so dark they were almost black, dotted around the neck and shoulders of the fabric. The back was shaking.

But it wasn't harmed. He could tell the instant he saw her. It wasn't her.

Oh no.

"M-Meryl-"

The false bravado shook.

The wind of the opening door caught the girls about the same time it crashed against the wall, and Meryl jumped, her head whipping around to take him in with her peripheral vision. She was crouched low over Milly, arms around the bigger girl. Milly was –

There was so much blood. They were both huddled together in pools of it. The big girl's once-white nightgown was twisted around her, the bottom half so thoroughly soaked he couldn't tell where the wound was. The hem of it was balled around her knees, and the inner-facing skin of her bared legs was coated down to her ankles. Rivulets of blood had made a shattered-glass pattern on the tops of her bare feet, showing how much she had bled out just from staggering to the bathroom.

Meryl turned her head away from him, ignoring him. She'd identified him and dismissed him in less than a second.

So much blood –

"I-I didn't mean to wake you," Milly blurted out, almost apologetically. "I had to pee, and I-I got up-"

Her face was wet with tears, and her voice belied more than pain. She'd released the smaller girl, and her arms were now wrapping tightly around her lower abdomen. Meryl, for her part, wasn't making any effort to force Milly to move her arms, to inspect the wound -

What -?

"It's okay, Milly." Meryl's voice wasn't doing a much better job of holding steady. "You're going to be okay. We're going to get the town doctor, he'll be here before you know it-"

Milly moaned, low in her throat, and curled in tighter around herself.

Oh no. No no no-

"Don't just stand there, Vash!" Meryl suddenly snapped, her voice raw. She hadn't released Milly, and she hadn't turned to face him. "Go and get a bucket of hot water and some clean towels!"

It was the same tone that usually made him snap-to, just to irritate her, and in this case it had him moving for the kitchen before he'd really had time to think about it.

Hot water directly from the tap was unheard of in anything besides first class sand steamers and large hotels, but nonetheless he located a large, uncracked basin and filled it at the sink. The water flowed too slowly. It took too long. He'd already lit the stove and torn the small kitchen apart for towels, and it wasn't even half-way full.

This is a futile effort and you're well aware of it, brother.

Because of all Milly's hard work, their tiny little house had been one of the first to be attached to the piping system. He would wager only the houses on this street had the luxury of running water, so he shouldn't be so impatient-

I must admit, I was relieved to discover the truth, the voice continued lazily. But by then things were already in motion.

Get out.

Make me.

The basin finally full, he moved it effortlessly to the gas burner. The minutes ticked by, and he watched the water, looking for any hint of steam. He knew exactly why she'd sent him out here. He could hear the change in the muffled, hitched breaths, could hear the change in the sound waves as the bathroom door was angled differently, as the absorptive object that was Meryl moved out of direct line of sight of the door. He heard her footsteps as she pounded, also barefoot, back to their room. Listened to the rough grating of her white work pants as the material was yanked across her skin. Listened as she sprinted back down the hall, one boot still half-off, and the front door as it was pushed open. He could hear the strands of her hair brush against the frame of the door, and the whisper of the loose nightshirt as it billowed behind her speeding form.

He listened as she listened. He listened as she realized that she was alone. He listened to the low moan that swelled deep within her throat.

He hadn't noticed. He hadn't been paying attention.

It was too soon for her to be showing, yet. He wasn't even sure she had known.

His eyes widened very suddenly, and the voice laughed in his mind.

The effort you've put into understanding them has slowed your mind, brother.

Knives, don't!

Keep listening. You'll hear them soon enough.

Steam was slowly starting to curl in front of his eyes, and he let them close.

Down the hall, Milly whimpered, and the blood-slicked fabric tore a little in her clenched fists.

Did you think a few days of their 'kindness' would change what more than a century has taught us?

There was a very distant sound; the boiling of the water and the closed kitchen window made it impossible to make out.

He opened his eyes, but all he saw was the grey fog of steam. He reached through it, trying to find the basin, but his hands met nothing. No basin. No stove. There was nothing in front of him but that hot, wet, gray.

Something was wrong.

Vash blinked, but it felt more like a twitch of closed eyelids. Confused, he tried the reverse, and found himself sprawled, a little uncomfortably, on a sturdy wooden chair. The dusty wall was glowing pleasantly in the late afternoon light, and there were the soft sounds of someone moving around down the hallway.

The door was half-ajar, but there was no one in the jamb. They were alone.

He turned his head, ignoring the sudden spasm of angry muscles, cramped by his position. Or maybe the gunshots. He didn't care terribly about his own.

Knives.

Ice-blue eyes were staring at him.

His first instinct was to move, but he clamped down on it, willing himself to stay exactly where he was. Look comfortable. He knew he wasn't fooling his brother, not by a longshot, but maybe it was for him instead.

"Knives, don't." He didn't elaborate, but he knew exactly where that dream had come from.

A cheerful shout of laughter carried down the hall to them.

Knives didn't respond. He just stared.

Vash cast his mind back, wondering if Wolfwood had ever gotten the chance to talk to another Gung-Ho Gun before his death at the hands of his mento-

No.

He glanced at Knives again.

Nothing is preventing you from determining that yourself. Can you not sense it?

You were in my mind.

A small smile.

Vash glared. Could he really . . . do that? Cause a miscarriage? He always thought their mental abilities were limited to what a conscious human mind could perceive, so Milly would have to know she was pregnant in order to –

Oh no, my dear brother. That was just the limit of my understanding. We were too young and inexperienced on the ship. Did you think Legato could control so many people with just the wave of his hand?

Unbidden, the image of the emotionless assassin blossomed in his mind, his dead eyes as he explained. Explained that he'd had to take Vash's place at Knives' side, because he would not.

The arm . . . ?

Your hands are nearly as bloody as mine, dear brother.

He straightened abruptly, ignoring the sharp pains he received for his efforts. "Don't you dare, Knives-"

I will kill them, Vash. The eyes never wavered. Even if Knives didn't have the strength to threaten with more than nightmares and words, there was no doubt he was serious. The moment an opportunity presented itself, he would strike.

He wouldn't hesitate to kill the spider. Just as he'd never hesitated before.

Really, Vash, you surprise me. What did you expect to change?

I won't let you kill them, Knives.

You can't protect them forever. They'll kill you.

I won't let that happen either.

The faintest expression of derisiveness marred Knives' features, but only for a moment. That he was maintaining consciousness was really quite a feat in itself. How had Knives swept his mind so completely in such a short frame of time -?

Do you not realize you are so entangled in their webs? Do you not see them approaching you? Do you not see their intention?

A quiet clatter of pans on the gas stove. Vash tried to relax in the chair again, unnerved by how easy their mental rapport had become. It hadn't been this effortless since –

Since the downed ship. Since he'd shot Knives in the leg.

Knives, their intention is to make us dinner.

Well spoken.

Vash frowned at his brother, mentally as well as physically. That isn't what I meant and you know it.

He brought up a good question, however. He had incapacitated Knives, at least physically, for what would amount to be about a week, perhaps slightly longer. He'd set out telling himself that he was going to walk his own path, and here he was. Without a laughing face telling him so easily what was so hard to do.

What was he going to do?

How was he going to take care of Knives, and protect everyone else?

Knives didn't need to be mobile to be deadly.

He hadn't forgotten.

He needed time.

Time? Time will not change them, brother. Nothing will change them. They lived on Earth for tens of centuries. What difference will another day make to their fate?

They made a mistake. They learned. They won't make the same mistakes again.

They will always make the same mistakes, brother. The voice was regretful. I see the same defect now resides in you.

His eyes flew open, and he raised his hand, as if to ward off a blow.

Then his body relaxed back into the chair, his eyes closing softly as his head rolled comfortably to his shoulder.

Knives stared at him a moment more before he followed suit.

Neither noticed their breathing slowly settling, growing more shallow, more infrequent.

In unison.

-

The splinters of wood dug deeply into the duster, some even penetrating the bodysuit. Pure instinct made him raise his head, finally, and his left arm.

Just in time; one of the slats of the back of the chair had been aimed directly for his eye.

He found himself pushing off from the wall before he really knew why, but he wasn't nearly fast enough. Another slat of the chair shattered against his abdomen, hurling him against the wall. He landed badly; the bed was in the way and now served as an obstacle rather than a launching point for the window, and he was pretty sure he'd struck his forehead on the bedframe.

And then it didn't really matter anymore.

He felt the hard, strong fingers curl through his hair, and then he was yanked to his feet. He didn't even get to raise his bionic arm, let alone activate his gun, before he felt a terrible slicing sensation. The transformation to the machine gun jilted wrongly down that arm, grinding to a stop a full second before pain and awareness seeped into his stunned mind.

He screamed, frantically pushing Knives away with his good arm, but the blade continued to cut through his shoulder. He was slicing upward very methodically, making certain he was severing every nerve connection to the mechanical arm.

I'm sorry, brother, but I'm not going to let you shoot me again.

He was going to remove it. He was going to take his arm.

Again.

Vash braced himself against the wall, planting his feet against Knives' chest. He heaved mightily, the tendons in his knees creaking with the strain, and then the presence of the knife in his shoulder was gone.

He hit the ground hard, and the impact sent waves of pain radiating from his torn shoulder. He couldn't help the yell that escaped through his clenched teeth, but it didn't stop him from shoving off the wall, getting his feet under him and focusing his attention on his brother.

Knives didn't look surprised, and he was already on his feet, dusting himself off with a disgusted look. His silver and red bodysuit looked none the worse for wear, whole and unbroken, and he held the blood-soaked knife to his side, letting the bright red liquid drip to the floor of the bedroom.

His pale blue eyes weren't angry, though. If anything, they looked regretful.

"I know how much that must hurt, Vash," he said, in a not unkind voice. "You should let me finish."

Vash leaned hard into the wall, glad now of the bed on his right, bracing him upright. He gripped his shoulder tightly, but the blood was seeping between his fingers. Nothing he did would get the slightest reaction from the mechanism, not so much as a fingertwitch. The malfunction hadn't even caused a reset, and the machine gun was pointed at a haphazard angle, still behind the material that made up the fake skin and muscles.

He couldn't even 'feel' it. Couldn't feel the sensation of his half-transformed hand. There was no telling where the muzzle really was pointing, he couldn't tell how far the robotics had shifted before it had all been brought to a halt.

Knives interpreted his silence for assent, and took a step towards him.

Panic. He was starting to panic.

And Knives smiled.

"Did you notice, brother? We have another guest."

Vash's eyes shifted slightly, as though searching for something out of sight, then widened in horror.

"No! Knives, don't!"

The knife that had been so innocently at his side flashed through the golden glow cast by the lone bedroom window, and Vash moved, felt it graze his cheek and ear before settling into the wall behind him. Knives had made him dodge to the right, and the dead metal arm, with no muscular support around it, tore at the knife wound with enough intensity that it almost blinded him. He didn't even realize that Knives had already manifested and thrown another one.

Not until he felt it, deep and hot and alive in his gut.

"There's more of them this time," Knives said softly, as though Vash had never spoken, and he watched critically as his brother's knees finally gave. Vash slid to the ground slowly, cradling his shoulder and afraid to even look at the position of the other knife.

He didn't want to know. Know what his weakness had cost him.

What it would cost her. Them.

"With Rem it was easy. One son who had the sense to refrain from procreating." His lip curled upwards a little in distaste, but the expression soon faded to a more thoughtful one. "It's amazing we had that thought at the same time, even with all that distance between us."

But there was no distance between them now. Knives knelt in front of him, unscathed. Just as powerful as he had been before.

He'd bought them time, but at what price?

"Do you remember when we learned how to access the ship computer?"

Vash blinked sweat out of his eyes, trying to get hold of his breathing. He could feel the blood running down his side, and his shoulder throbbed with every beat of his heart. He still had the wall behind him, he could maybe brace himself and tackle Knives –

But to what end?

Focus, brother. I'm trying to teach you.

He felt his eyes widen, and Knives smiled again. "Yes, Vash. That door was really the last one."

He clenched his eyes shut, willing the room to disappear. If Knives was really in his mind like this, he could do anything. He could activate the Angel Arm. How could he have gotten so close –

But it didn't disappear. The pain didn't abate. The blood didn't stop flowing.

You don't know what you did, do you. Have you forgotten, brother, or did you lay such a clever trap entirely on instinct?

"This is your inner mind." The voice was almost cheerful. "You can't will this one away, dear brother. The damage you sustain here is real, in a sense. Your injuries here are a reflection of actual damage to your mind. If I let you die here, you will die there. Does the cost you have paid seem equal now? Do you know how little time has really passed?"

Get out, Knives!

I can't do that. For once, the dry mental voice reflected a little anger. Do you truly not comprehend what it is you have done to both of us?

"Let me remind you then, brother. Let me remind you of what happened."

And Knives took hold of his left arm and began to drag him from the room.

He bit down hard on his bottom lip, trying to keep his cries to himself as each stride Knives took, his dead arm in tow, ripped at his already damaged shoulder.

I control this mindscape now, Vash. The bathroom came into view, the girls gone but the blood still pooled, dark and congealed. Dust covered it, making it look as though it had never been borne through the veins of any living thing, it had always been there, caked on the cracked tiled floor.

Still Knives dragged him.

He kicked out with his feet, trying to gain purchase on the ground, lessen the pain. Even if he helped Knives take him wherever he was taking him, it had to be better than this –

No! Knives was taking him through the living room.

Knives was taking him outside.

You've hidden the memory even from yourself. Very clever, brother. Knives' thought wasn't pleased. You realize even now that your plan is shattering around you, but you still cannot fathom what it is.

God, it hurts. Please, please stop –

"I know it hurts, brother." His voice sounded as if he truly sympathized. "But there is no more time. Your beloved spiders are killing us even now."

Knives, you're hurting me!

He was hauled over the ragged, braided thomas-hair rug in the living room, and the slight bump sent a current of what felt like molten glass through his abdomen. It was overwhelming, and he felt himself vomiting. The spasming muscles only cut themselves further on the knife, still intact and deep within his stomach, and as Vash felt himself yanked over the doorframe, somehow sensing the difference in light outside his clenched eyelids, he finally relented.

-

"You know," he said conversationally, as though they'd been participating the entire time in some forgotten parley, "you were right about a lot of things."

Knives was lying on his back, quite comfortably, staring at a brilliant blue sky. A few stars were evident on the horizon, where the atmosphere was the thinnest, and they looked quite nice against the grassy hill they sat upon.

Son of a bitch.

Knives turned to look at his brother, taking in the horizon as he did so. Hills, as far as the eye could see. They were lying in a valley, with groves of all types of trees dotting the sides of the hills turned inwards. A continuous stream of sparkling blue water wound down one, falling at some point to crash into an exposed pool. The impact of the water upon water sent up a white fog of sorts, and the sun looked dazzling through the airborne droplets.

Vash was beside him, stretched out across the grass. A billowy, loose white shirt covered his chest, and his brown leggings were rolled up, so that his pale feet and skinny ankles were exposed to the soft light.

Soft. Only one sun burned in that sky.

Knives could see his left arm, in his peripheral vision, and he was not surprised to find it was also clad in a similar white fabric. His wasn't as loose as Vash's, though, and the fabric felt cool against his skin.

He turned away, looking back up at the sky.

No SEEDs had ever pierced that sky. No humans had ever marred this valley.

Because it didn't exist.

Vash laughed softly beside him, and he heard him grab a handful of the leaves beneath them. Grass, Knives' mind pulled from the recesses of his time spent in front of the ship's main computer.

Vash showered Knives with them.

"No need to be so literal, Knives."

I thought mind-reading was my specialty, Vash.

Another gentle laugh. "That's one of the things you were right about. Exploring my powers. I should have been doing more of that."

Knives turned his head to look at Vash again.

He was completely relaxed, in a way Knives hadn't seen since they were children. Since before Steve abandoned what little control of his human nature he'd maintained and –

Vash looked at him, his aqua-marine eyes large and open, and deeply sad. But his smile seemed almost genuine. "Hey, isn't this place great?"

Knives knew exactly where he was. And Vash knew that he knew.

"Yes," he said aloud. "It's beautiful."

Vash broke eye contact, staring up at the sky and sighing. "There should have been more times like this."

A breeze played over the hill they lay atop, and tugged at the collar of Vash's shirt. Through it Knives could see unmarred flesh. No heavy metal pins holding together shattered bones. No steel mesh to prevent the muscles around his heart from pulling themselves apart. No scars. The arm that was propped beneath his spiked, broom-like hair was not mechanical.

"I'm glad you see yourself this way," Knives told him.

His mouth quirked. "You should see yourself."

Knives turned back to the sky again, studying the levels and depth of its shades. The sun in this place was a different type of star, lending the sky every color he'd ever seen.

"I can only see your projection of me."

His voice was audibly raw when he finally replied. "I can see you, Knives."

Knives didn't look at him again. Instead he focused on the tree to his immediate right, watching its elongated leaves move independently as countless atoms of gases passed over its surface.

"And what will you do now?"

It wasn't really meant to rush things. Knives didn't mind the respite from his pain. He'd won every mental battle that Vash had thrown at him, to some extent. Some of them had to be doing damage to Vash's mind. He wasn't sure how much time was passing in the physical world, but it probably hadn't been long.

Here, it felt like they'd been at it for a century.

There wasn't much he could do about it, except continuously try to convince Vash to stop. Every time he though he'd finally actually located Vash, the real Vash, they ended up back in this valley.

Vash had constructed hundreds of places in his mind. The ships. July. Augusta. Every place something painful had happened to him. Every place he'd acquired one of the scars that his physical body could never shed.

Vash had taken him to all of them.

He'd destroyed every one of those mindscapes, sometimes destroying Vash as well, but it didn't seem to faze his brother at all. And that was one of the things Knives just didn't understand. The pain they both experienced in those mindscapes was real. Only Vash had been on the vast majority of the receiving end. How could he keep enduring like this? How long before enough damage was done to his mind that Vash would finally let him go?

"We both thought the butterfly was beautiful."

Knives closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of the sun on his eyelids. The light didn't try to bore through the skin, instead tickling it softly with warmth.

"You wanted to save the butterfly, Vash. That's all."

The sound of grass being pulled again. This time a single strand. Knives listened as lips parted, listened to the sound of the flesh of the leaf being pinned between four of Vash's teeth.

"So you didn't think it was beautiful?"

Knives didn't respond, just listened. Listened to him shifting the blade of grass around his mouth with his tongue, playing with the tiny hairs of the blade with his lips. Listened to his shirt, whispering softly to the breeze.

I wanted this, Vash. More than anything.

And here we have it, Knives.

This isn't real.

Does that matter?

Knives opened his eyes in time to see a leaf drift lazily across the sky.

"Yes."

"Aww! Why, Knives?" The petulant tone made him glance Vash's way again, and his wide, tear-brimming eyes and imploring expression were entirely ruined by the blade of grass sticking out of his mouth. "Why can't we just stay here in what we finally agree is Eden and just be happy? Don't you like it here? Don't you like laying under the sky in this quiet, perfect world talking to me?"

Knives considered hitting him, but was reasonably certain, from their positions, that he could dodge. It was his mindscape, after all. This one particularly seemed to have special significance to Vash. It kept recurring, every dozen locations or so. It was possible that this Vash was the one he had been seeking. The true representation of his brother's mind, unlike all the other constructs.

All the other, perfect Vashes he'd cut. He'd tortured. He'd killed.

How many times did he have to prove his resolve before Vash would believe him?

And even though Vash could see Knives' mind exactly the way he wished to project it, in his weakened state he was unable to force the issue here. He was dressed in the clothes Vash wished, his appearance exactly how Vash wanted him to be.

Knives moved his head softly against his outstretched forearms, trying to determine his hair length. He was not surprised to note it felt as it always had.

"I know you pretty well," Vash noted, in a lighthearted but reasonably serious tone of voice.

Knives' eyes closed of their own accord. You really don't, brother. It's been a hundred years.

"Since we talked like this?"

Knives couldn't recall the last time they'd talked like this.

"That's what I mean."

Vash, this is a beautiful dream. An ideal. Nothing more. It changes nothing.

"It changes everything," he said softly.

Knives opened his eyes again, and turned to look at Vash.

The blade of grass was gone. The sadness was written as plainly across his face as if he'd painted it there with pitch. He was easily within touching distance. It was the same comfortable distance they'd kept as children, a distance they'd never really managed after the Great Fall.

Not that he hadn't tried to bridge that gap. They'd appeared to be feet apart, but Vash was so far out of his reach.

It was an impossible chasm that separated them as surely as a bottomless, fathomless expanse of empty space.

"I had to," he said, still softly. "I know you hate pain, Knives. I'm sorry."

Knives watched his eyes, reflecting back that impossible blue. "I thought for a moment you had killed me."

The barest ghost of a smile touched that unmarred face. "I was afraid maybe I had. That's why we ended up back in town. The insurance girls helped out quite a bit with the well construction so I knew the doctor would look at you."

Knives sighed quietly. "You dragged me here to tell me this?"

The petulant look crossed Vash's face again, but it was obvious he was affecting it. "Can't we just lay here for a while? Why do you have to complain so much, Knives? Isn't it exactly what you pictured?"

It's exactly what Rem pictured.

Knives watched the childlike expression evaporate as though it had never been, and when those beautiful eyes turned towards him again, it was very clear to Knives that the conversation was about to turn quite serious.

I'm sorry, Vash. You were always the dreamer, and in the end it's almost destroyed you.

"We can always go back," he offered. "The ticket to the future is always blank."

Knives shook his head, slowly. For some reason he had no desire to sit up and break this comfortable closeness, and while he knew it was in part due to Vash's influence on his weakened mind, it didn't anger him.

Vash was finally taking the advantage when he could. At least he still could.

For now.

His eyes watched Knives without blinking, depthless and filled with all the emotions his humans had taught him. Regret. Pain. Sadness. Betrayal.

"Betrayal? I learned that one from you, Knives."

"Did you want to end up like Tessla?" Knives snapped, and he saw another emotion emerge.

Anger.

"They wouldn't have-"

"Why? Because we were boys? Because Rem would protect us?"

"She would have, Knives. She would have given her life to protect us-"

"She didn't. She saved a handful of those worthless humans and now they're all over the planet, Vash!"

His brother turned back to the sky, and Knives watched the tear form and fall from his visible eye.

Steve had taught him how to cry. Taught them both.

"I miss you," he whispered.

Knives glared at him. "It was always your choice to be alone."

Vash didn't respond for a long time, and Knives turned his head towards the tree in disgust.

"Do you remember learning language?"

Vash didn't answer, but Knives didn't expect him to. It was a little irritating that his thoughts were so plainly open to Vash while he could hide his true intent, but for now Knives was comfortable giving him that advantage. He trusted in Vash's honesty, even after so long.

"The humans have a word for people that repeat the same action, over and over, but expect a different result."

"You think I'm insane?" The voice was quiet.

What are you thinking, Vash? Tell me. I don't understand you.

"We disagree on a core philosophy. I believe that humans are capable of greatness, good and kindness. You believe they are spiders, out to consume the butterflies of the world. You orchestrate a terrible catastrophe, using humans and – and me. You destroy their cities. But every time, you – you get hurt. I hurt you, Knives. And you hurt me."

Knives remained silent.

"And they keep surviving. And we keep surviving. You keep expecting me to change, Knives. And I keep hoping to convince you. We try these things, over and over again, and they always end the same. How are you any different than I am? Do you think I'm weak? Incapable of the same intensity of belief?"

Sometimes.

"Why?"

Knives opened his eyes, watching the sky. Parts of it were the same color as his eyes.

"You remember Wolfwood?"

Beside him, he felt Vash tense.

"Before Legato Bluesummers recruited him for me, he chose to give shelter to orphans. He put all his time and effort into it, killing for bounties he poured into food and energy for these little humans. He knew my ultimate goal, Vash. I didn't need to tell him. He knew it the moment he laid eyes on me. He acknowledged me as a superior being."

Maybe he'd already been near Vash too long, before he ever made it to Legato Vash had influenced him.

"He would kill without a thought, without hesitation. He would feed these tiny humans, also without hesitation. He cherished their lives and deemed others worthless. Do you know why, Vash?"

His brother remained at his side, silent. The peace he'd been projecting had vanished, and Knives felt sadness for taking it.

"Because he was a worthless insect clinging to hope and faith?"

Knives smiled. You don't know me at all, do you, Vash.

"Because the only humans in the world who are worth anything are the ones that haven't learned how to be humans yet."

The breeze toyed with their hair for a moment. He wondered if Vash was consciously controlling it, or it was simply a part of his memory of Rem's rec room.

"I seem to remember you slaughtering children without remorse," he murmured, in an oddly cold voice.

It doesn't suit you, brother.

"Doesn't it?" Knives could tell Vash was facing him again, but he didn't move. "This is how you want me to be, isn't it? Removed from my emotions? Refraining from needlessly expending my energy and concern on those little spiders?"

No, Vash. I just want you to understand how futile-

"You can't have it both ways," he snapped, and Knives couldn't help a glance at his face.

Then Knives was sitting up, and so was he.

The silver and red bodysuit looked – fitting, on him. It wasn't quite Knives' reflection, because now that he'd adorned it he'd also taken back his mechanical arm, and the thin, woven polymer showed both the ridges of his physique and the terrible scars his body would never shed. His spiked hair made his shoulders look a bit broader than they were normally, his neck a little longer.

"Isn't this your idea of Eden, brother?" he parroted at Knives, his voice such a perfect impersonation Knives wouldn't have known it wasn't him unless he'd seen those lips moving.

Knives would never have believed Vash could make his eyes look like that. They were terrible, suddenly clouded and icy dry like the winter sand. They held nothing of his brother. No warmth. No curiosity. They were both filled and utterly devoid of anything at all.

"You don't often look at your reflection, do you," he drawled.

And do I look like that now, Vash?

He didn't move or change expression, but his mindscape altered significantly. They now reclined in a bank of sand, and the hills around them were dunes. Mercifully, he'd rendered the time twilight, and three moons peeked down at them from among the stars.

Vash glanced imperiously over his brother's shoulder, and grudgingly Knives turned. Where the tree had once been was another valley, a fertile place. It was almost as large in size as Vash's Eden had been, though it was significantly farther away.

"You don't want to be there," he said coldly. "You just want to have it. You just want to know that it's yours. You would happily travel the world and never see it for a decade, exterminating humans because you would be too afraid they'd find it and destroy it in their greed."

Knives didn't take his eyes off that distance paradise. "They would, you know. They'd tear it apart."

"I don't know any way to prove to you that you're wrong."

Knives shrugged, and looked up at the night sky. The constellations were all there, exactly as he remembered them. How many nights had they lain together on the dunes, looking at the stars? Sharing the same blanket, but completely alone.

He had a good memory.

"There isn't a way."

"For every human I showed you that would treasure that Eden, you could show me one that would exploit it for his own gain."

The ratio was probably closer to 1:10.

"How would you know? How often do you walk among the spiders?"

Knives glared at him, slightly surprised at the venom of Vash's expression.

"How well you know those spiders, brother. I think you understand them a little too well."

How coy.

Vash stood, his body language completely foreign to Knives.

"You were right about Rem, too."

Knives' eyes flickered across his, but those empty, icy blue irises were fixed on the distant grove of trees.

"She was a bundle of contradictions."

Don't mock me, Vash.

The eyes flitted down to him.

"You're just like her."

Knives was on his feet before he really knew how it happened, and his voice was a hiss. "How dare you-"

Vash smirked.

"You want me to be what I always have been, brother. Innocent. Honest. Curious. You want me to be the human that hasn't learned to be human yet. You want me to care about the butterfly. But you refuse to acknowledge that with all of those things comes hope. Comes optimism. I can't care about the butterfly and dismiss the spider. It's a contradiction."

Knives felt his breath gathering for a shout, but then it clicked. He relaxed, and shook his head with a rueful smile.

"Was that all, Vash?"

And then the sky was blue again.

Vash shrugged, and plucked another piece of grass. "It was worth a try."

They were beside one another again, his white billowing shirt and arm and Knives' tunic and breeches. Somehow he'd managed to mold the hill to match the contour of their backs perfectly.

There would never be this perfect hill. Not if we sucked every one of our surviving brethren dry, there would never be this hill.

"I know."

There was sadness there, and Knives knew he was the reason for it.

"Why can't we do this anymore?" It wasn't petulance, it was honest curiosity.

Knives closed his eyes. Talk?

"Family's very important, you know."

I've always known that, Vash.

"I meant, we should stop trying to kill each other every time we meet."

Knives wondered if the grass tasted as sweet as it smelled.

"I can make the grass taste like whatever you want."

No doubt yours tastes like donuts.

"Have you ever had one, Knives?"

. . . yes.

He actually laughed. "I didn't know that."

Knives took a deep breath of the clean air. "We've resolved nothing, Vash."

"Do you always have to be so serious, Knives?"

Knives blinked, jarred out of his peace as the mindscape flickered around them. It restored as quickly as it had disappeared, and beside him, Vash didn't react.

Maybe he'd done more damage than he'd thought.

"You're wasting time. Why, Vash?"

He sighed.

"Teaching you gives me a headache, Knives."

Who's teaching who here?

"That's a good point. What to ask me what I've learned about you?"

Nothing that shouldn't have been readily apparent for a century or more.

Vash actually smiled.

"I don't know if you've realized it yet, but this construct is just a big circle. I put Eden in the middle, and every time you complete a trip through, we end up back here."

So if Eden was the middle, that meant the door out of the construct was in one of Vash's little scenarios.

"Every one of them has a door out, Knives. I wouldn't keep you against your will."

You trapped me here to do specifically that, Vash. You trapped me here to protect your dear little spiders.

He shrugged. "Well, yeah, kind of. Didn't want you attacking the insurance girls until I got a chance to really understand you."

You will never understand me, Vash. Never.

"I know you better than you think," he repeated calmly.

Knives stared at him for a moment, slightly unnerved by his tone. The mindscape flickered again, and this time an expression of pain crossed Vash's face. It didn't completely vanish this time, but the horizon seemed a little darker.

Knives studied it for a long time, and as he stared at a point between two of the hills, where he should have been able to see the distant land rising up to meet the horizon, he saw only darkness.

The valley was surrounded by nothing. A void.

The construct was disappearing.

Vash's face contorted, but he kept his voice steady. "You keep hurting me because you hate pain so much, Knives. You hate it more than anything. It's the only thing you can think of that's stronger than my love for Rem."

Knives felt the ground shudder, softly, and about fifty feet from them, a clump of grass seemed to sink several inches.

"But what you don't understand is, I'm not afraid of pain. Not . . . not anymore." He offered his brother a wan smile. "I've been in pain since the Great Fall, Knives."

Knives felt his eyes narrow. And do you know why that is, brother?

"I do, Knives. It's because of you."

He didn't say anything, and the discomfort seemed to ease a little from Vash's face. "They wanted us to help them communicate with the humans, Knives. That's why we were born."

"They wanted us to free them, Vash!" God damn it, all this time and that was what he'd been clinging to? Knives turned to glare down at him, and the look Vash returned was stony.

"Did you know your Gung-Ho Guns killed two of our sisters?"

The stream of water, on that distant hill, wasn't flowing anymore.

"Humans do that," Knives snapped back. "Pay attention, Vash. You're losing it."

Knives had always known that Vash would be stronger with telepathy than he was. Manipulating emotions was easier when you had experience with them yourself, and while he was capable of the same depth of emotion as his brother, he didn't wallow so shamelessly in them. Yet that weakness was also, as Vash had irritatingly pointed out, one of his more endearing traits.

His inner spirit was so . . . so good. Beautiful. It was the paltry, faded shadow of that goodness that Wolfwood was drawn to in the human children. Had been drawn to in Vash. He wasn't immune himself; it was probably why he hadn't actually killed his interfering brother yet. Even though he knew, just like Vash did, that it was inevitably going to come to that.

Humans taught their offspring to suppress their goodness, eventually eliminating it altogether. They had since they began recording their own history. Generations had passed on this sandy space rock, and it was clear they had learned nothing.

And it was clear, as many trips as they'd made around Vash's mind, that neither one of them had, either.

He watched Vash's jaw muscles sliding beneath his unmarred skin, and a distant tree began to tip, as though it had lost its anchor with the ground.

You went too far, Vash.

So did you.

Somehow he always managed to do this. Use his powers without knowing how, at great damage to himself.

"Release me, Vash. When your Eden is destroyed, we will be too."

"If we've destroyed Eden, we don't deserve one." His voice was quiet.

I told you to release me.

He shook his head, his eyes still closed. "No, Knives."

The tree finally crashed to the ground, but rather than stopping there it passed through the grass as though it were no more than the surface of water. The shape of it remained in the form of an inky shadow, the void beneath the ground.

Knives raised his arm, a knife slipping into place between his fingers. "It's your mind we're damaging, brother. Your powers."

He shrugged, and made no move to activate his arm. His relaxed posture was more rigid, and Knives wondered just how much damage they'd really done.

He'd really done.

"We can damage it as much as we need to, Knives. The more we destroy this Eden, the more we'll realize our own mistakes."

Knives stared at him, then flicked the blade. Vash's eyes flew open, but he didn't move. It landed exactly where Knives intended, inside his right elbow joint. The soft flesh there offered no resistance, and he watched Vash's eyes cloud with disappointment and pain.

"We're no better than they are, Knives." He didn't move, didn't take out the blade even though warm, red blood dripped to the sweet grass below him. "Will we really destroy this Eden in a pointless fight?"

For the last time, Vash. Release me or I will kill you.

Couldn't the idiot tell if he dropped the construct he'd stop damaging his mind?

"You'll kill yourself," he said simply. "If my mind shatters, so will yours."

Knives thought about that a moment.

You can't possibly know that.

Vash's smile was nothing more than a grimace, pulling back his lips to apologetically expose his teeth.

"I built it that way, Knives."

No.

You said we'd resolved nothing, didn't you? You're right. You're right about almost everything, Knives.

"Vash!"

He glanced at the knife, still protruding from his arm, and with a flick of his eyes he whisked it out. Knives raised an eyebrow. Of course. He had his real arm. He had his telekinesis.

Vash could have prevented the knife from ever striking him.

The wound still bled, though.

If we destroy this Eden, Knives, we don't deserve one. Do you understand that?

Comparing me to the spiders is unacceptable, brother. No matter your point.

Where do you think we'll go when we die?

The question was meant to distract him, as so many of the ones before.

I'm serious. You don't believe in Rem's Bible. You know we came from the plants. Where do plants go when they die?

Stop wasting my time.

There was a time when wondering wasn't wasting your time.

That was before your precious humans turned on us, Vash. It's time to grow up.

Into you, brother?

Knives glared at him, manifesting another knife. "I will kill you if I have to, Vash," he warned him.

His smile was infinitely sad. "I know."

It chafed Knives that he actually had a point.

"The tall one's a real doozy," he said cheerfully, as though the atmosphere hadn't become chilled. The sun was no longer lending them any warmth. Or maybe it was the void, just beneath the ground, that was absorbing it all.

Knives ignored it, though he noted his brother was starting to shiver. Vash hated the cold.

"She reminded me why family is so important."

Knives pushed the concern from his mind. I will not be lectured by you, Vash.

I can't let you kill the spider to save the butterfly, Knives. Until one of us is swayed, the only way I can save both is to do nothing. Inaction or death, don't you agree?

Inaction results in the spiders eating the butterflies. Had you forgotten?

"Lately I haven't had to save the butterflies from the spiders, Knives. Lately I've had to save them from you."

That's the second time you've called me a spider, brother.

Perhaps if you listened to me you'd realize we're both acting like them.

Knives raised another blade, and Vash didn't flinch.

"End this, Vash, or I will."

Has killing them become so much more important than staying with me? I'll stand by your side, Knives. Just like you've always wanted. I'll help you build your Eden. But we have to reach a compromise.

I can't believe that, Vash. And you can't mean it.

If our purpose was to save our brethren, why can't we do that by helping the humans develop other forms of power?

His eyes were begging.

The ground shuddered beneath them, and Knives watched his pooling blood suddenly drain away as it ate through the façade of fertile ground beneath them.

That symbolized actual, permanent loss of his powers. Vash's blood was draining into the void. He'd never get it back.

Knives swore, tossing the blade he'd manifested aside and ripping off one of the Vash's ridiculous sleeves. It was too thin to use as bandages, but it was better than nothing.

"Do you really not understand, brother? They won't accept change."

Can we?

Knives tied the makeshift bandage tightly, not feeling remorse when Vash's face momentarily tightened with the pain. In his peripheral vision, Knives noticed one of the emerald hills fading soundlessly.

I don't know how much longer I can walk this world alone, Knives.

It was always your choice.

I know that. I've learned that about myself.

Finally!

Vash suddenly gasped beneath Knives' hands, limbs rigid, his back arching off the frigid grass. The ground mimicked his movements, almost throwing the two of them into the air. A terrible, low hum pervaded the frosting air, and Knives realized the sky was starting to chip away.

The tree.

Knives looked around wildly, realizing the only tree left standing was the one behind them. The ground around it was flaking away, frozen and shattered by the intensifying hum, but the tree itself was stable, stretching far into the void. Through the void.

It was the way home. The link. The mental bridge he shared with Vash.

Without hesitating he leaned down, scooping up his brother. The moment he lifted, however, Vash screamed, so harshly that Knives actually heard his throat tear.

Stop! Stop, Knives! You can't!

Of course I can, brother. You can let this world shatter. It's done. This Eden was never really yours to begin with. Come to my mind, brother. Come to my Eden.

But he didn't move. Vash was still gasping in his arms, and his spittle was tinged with red.

I can't go with you, Knives. If this shatters, so does the link. It would be a bridge with only one anchor. You'd fall into the void, Knives.

Knives closed his eyes, still holding the shivering form of his brother. You idiot.

You knew it would end this way, Knives. His mental voice was sad, but steady. Inevitably, one of us was going to have to die. We're more like them than you know. We can't change.

You designed it this way consciously, didn't you, Vash. You meant for us both to be trapped here. To die here, if necessary -

We couldn't keep chasing each other around the same circle forever.

. . . we wouldn't have had to. Not forever.

I love you.

He opened his blue-green eyes, almost black now in the lightless world that was his Eden.

And then his weight was gone, and Knives was flying-

He slammed into the tree, head snapping back to strike the wood squarely. The impact stunned him, but he reached out anyway. He couldn't see them but he knew the feathers were there, his arm was changing, reaching out for the still-steady ground his brother had fallen to-

But Vash was out of his reach.

And then he was falling.

His back stuck to the tree as though it were covered in glue, as though he'd impaled himself on a small branch and his nerves were too shocked to register the damage. The tree wasn't so much falling through the void as it was retreating, a child's hand being yanked out of a dark hole as they sensed the impending pain of an insect bite.

He stared up, watching the oddly broken circle of darkness. It was amazing how much brighter a skyless world was than the void, and he watched it fragment. Huge chunks were broken away, and from them, the lightlessness dissolved into the void, until just an egg-shaped piece remained –

He watched the void absorb it.

He watched the light go out.

And then he was alone.

He opened his eyes.

The room was exactly how it had looked in Vash's mind. The ceiling above him was covered in the same waved, swirled pattern as dust on the dunes, the plaster full of tiny pores for the particles of planet to bury themselves in. To his right, he knew late morning sunlight was pouring into the room through a filthy window. Even to his blurred eyes, it was harsh and bright and colorless, a poor substitute.

He closed his eyes again, digging for the link. For that niggling, nagging thing that he'd spent the last century staunchly ignoring. It hurt. The deeper he reached, the harder he concentrated, the harder it was to concentrate. Hollow, unbearable ache crashed against his senses. But he kept digging, kept searching.

Vash. Answer me.

His mental fingers brushed something sharp, the skin tore.

Pieces.

It was in pieces.

Vash.

He pushed farther into the shards, letting them cut him to the bone. He didn't flinch from the pain, kept digging. Like it was rubble, it was the rubble of July, and this time it was Vash buried in it-

Vash!

The wreckage was too big. And as he strained, shoved the massive pieces out of his way, he could feel more tumble into their place. He knew exactly what they were.

They were his mental barricades. The ones Vash had destroyed, in his efforts. The ones he'd had to destroy to get to his brother's mind. To extract it.

They were covered in dust, in sand, and they stretched into the horizon as far as he could see. The sky flashed, to give him more light, and he stopped.

And he looked.

This was his mind. This was his Eden.

This was what Vash had seen when they lay on his grassy hill. He could force Knives to see what he wanted, but he couldn't force himself.

It was a desert. The sky contained almost as much sand as the ground, huge, brown clouds of it that had yet to settle from the destruction of all the settlements. No blue was able to penetrate that haze, the yellows of sand and blacks of still-burning fires. Occasionally static electricity leapt from one cloud to another before a stronger current from the ground was pulled upwards. Every time that happened, a brilliant white flash illuminated the desolate landscape.

Nothing moved.

A rough wind blew, whistling through the impenetrable pile of rubble that stood, ten times his height, before him.

Knives looked down, at his feet. The sand was harder-packed, almost paved, indicating what he'd known. There had once been a road, here.

A path.

A path to a green valley, with one sun, and streaming water.

He backed away, wondering if perhaps there was a way to approach the road from the side. He passed a fragment of rubble that looked exactly like Vash's back, like it had when he'd taken the guns and gone. Left him, writhing in pain in the shadow of that SEED. Left him bleeding, his fluids being absorbed by the sand.

How hunched his shoulders had been. How withdrawn. Confused. Afraid.

Knives reached out to touch that fragment, but with a deafening crack the barricade shifted, and a veritable sheet of glass crashed down all around him.

Knives leapt back, hissing with pain, and hugged his hand to his body. The glass had sliced the back of it open, a huge gash, he gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the feeling of slick blood being absorbed by his bodysuit –

He looked up.

The sheet of glass had been part of a plant, or what was left of its housing. The outer bulb was completely smashed, huge at this close range. It was the biggest plant he'd ever seen.

Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the wreckage of that giant plant. That was the wreckage he saw, as far as the horizon stretched.

The road had been leading to this. And now he could see there was no way to approach it from another side.

It didn't matter. The plant was irrevocably destroyed.

More of the external bulb fragmented in the harsh wind, the pieces raining down on the debris. He took another step back, to avoid the hollowly tinkling glass, and he wondered how far away he had been from this when it had gone.

How far the explosion had pushed him.

Another flash, and he made out the silhouette of the internal bulb. It was also broken, shattered by the pieces of the external bulb that had rained down on it. It had been so small in comparison. He never would have seen it against the brown sky if not for the lightning. The remaining shards of glass were inky black.

More than black. Lightless.

"VASH!"

Hollow, empty wind carried soundlessness to him.

No humans.

Nothing alive.

Nothing but him.

His Eden.

Knives screamed until his throat was full of sand, until he could no longer breathe. Only when he choked did he stop. Relax. Open his eyes.

They were still blurred, and when he turned his head to his left, he was forced the blink out the tears so he could see.

So he could remember.

His brother was close. So close he could reach out and touch him. He was sprawled in the same rickety wooden chair Knives could remember dismantling and hurling at him. Same position. He was wearing his bodysuit, the one he'd designed for himself. White bandages were wrapped around his shoulder, and they were clean.

No blood.

It looked like he was sleeping.

Except he was still. Utterly still. His head lay slumped against his right shoulder, face turned towards Knives. His jaw was slack and his lips relaxed. It even looked like he'd drooled a little in the night.

Oh, Vash.

Knives reached out with his mind, hesitantly, gently, and the hollow ache returned, a tenth what it had been but enough of a warning to him that he should stop trying.

Vash.

He willed the eyes to open, the form to take a breath. But he might as well have been railing at the sun to stop burning.

"You idiot," he heard his voice grate thickly into the silence.

But Vash didn't respond. Didn't open his eyes.

I'll never see that blue. Never again.

Knives sighed softly, wanting to reach up a hand to wipe at his face but knowing better. The moment he moved, he would be in excruciating pain. From those well-aimed bullets, the ones his brother had used. All in this plan to wear him down. To get into his head.

To understand him.

His mind brought his mental pain back to the fore, the angry, pounding headache behind his eyes. Is that what Vash had felt, when his mind had shattered? The pain of his external bulb exploding, tearing through his perfect flesh? The frigid void that had sucked the very blood from his crystallizing veins?

This wasn't . . . wasn't what he wanted.

He closed his eyes.

This couldn't have been what he wanted.

There was no Eden without Vash. He didn't want to be alone. Not . . . not like that.

That wasn't paradise. That was . . . just empty.

Oh, Vash.

He opened his eyes again, and stared at his brother. Memorizing.

And he realized he was staring at a deep aquamarine.

Vash held his gaze for perhaps only a split second before he broke eye contact, turned beet red, and explosively hacked out a pent up breath. Then he pitched headfirst out of his chair.

"Ohmygod!" he gasped, from somewhere in the vicinity of the bedside. The sound of his voice and his ragged breathing filled what had been so empty. "IthougthIwasgonnapassoutyouknow?" His face popped back up, still red, and well within striking distance, and he rested his chin not inches from Knives' face, panting. "It takes you so long to come to a conclusion and I had to wait for it and were you trying to kill me?"

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Knives roared, and lunged for him. He immediately regretted it as his diaphragm and shoulders noted, very sharply, that they were still in the act of healing from bullet wounds. Vash had danced back out of reach, and with a sharp intake of breath Knives transformed his arm. It hurt more than it ever had before, as torn flesh became something else entirely.

Vash winced, trying for an disapproving expression. "Geez, keep your voice down, Knives. The insurance girls are still asleep! I think you spit on me."

And with a thought, he forced Knives' arm to transform back into wounded flesh.

Vash had been right – it hurt a lot more when you weren't the one instigating the change. It felt as though it was being crushed into a huge arm-mold, continuous, inescapable pressure forcing too much matter into too small a space. Knives turned the yell of pain into one of anger as well.

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

The expression didn't change, but his eyes did. "Didn't you just decide that was a mistake?"

Knives bared his teeth. He could get up. It would hurt like hell, but it would be nothing compared to the satisfaction he would get from pounding his brother into infinitesimally tiny pieces.

Is this real, Vash? Or are we still in your mind?

The face by his own grinned sheepishly. It's real. I figured if you still wanted to fight we could do it just as well in my mind as we could here. That way no one else had to get hurt.

The sound of pounding feet distracted them both, and Knives barely shifted his attention as the door burst open.

Vash's humans.

They also looked exactly like they had in Vash's mind, down to the sky blue sleeping shirt and the long white nightgown. The shorter, black-haired girl actually had the gall to bring a gun.

A little one-shot derringer.

The bigger girl hadn't brought a weapon, but there was something . . . odd about her. Her face immediately shifted into a bright smile before Knives could pin it down, and he reached out towards her mind.

His mental hand splayed against a thick, transparent blockage, and beside him, Knives felt Vash flinch.

His voice didn't belie it. "Good morning, insurance girls! I hope we didn't wake you up, we were just talking."

Knives attempted experimentally to manifest a knife, and found he was able to.

You know what will happen if you hurt these girls, Knives.

Then I suggest you get them far away from me, brother.

"I don't think you really met last night," Vash continued, rubbing the back of his neck with a little laugh. "Milly, Meryl, this is my brother Knives."

Meryl was still staring at him, gun in hand, and Knives continued to leave his teeth bared. The big one plowed right on ahead.

"Oh, wow! You're both awake! It's nice to meet you, Mr. Knives! I'm Milly. Milly Thompson."

He let his eyes flick to her, but even under his searing glare she didn't wither. The other one – Meryl - was now staring at his arm.

Knives . . .

"Uh . . ." she said, before turning an odd crimson color. Knives belatedly realized she was embarrassed as she leapt behind her larger companion. "Uh, hi. Sorry, we just heard some shouting, and boy I bet you guys are hungry! You slept right through dinner last night! We'll go start breakfast. Come on, Milly!"

Despite her smaller size and pitiful weapon, she had a certain presence about her, and she hauled off the much more powerful girl with little effort. The door slammed shut behind them.

Beside him, Vash blew out his cheeks. "That went well, don't you think?"

I think she looks like Rem.

I kinda noticed that.

Knives finally relaxed, though he never dropped the blade. "If they return to this room, I will kill them."

"Don't be that way, Knives."

He glared at his brother, who had retaken his seat by the bed, and noticed that his arm, wrapped securely in white bandages, was both bleeding slightly, and bare.

Confused, Knives glanced down at himself. Other than a thin summer sheet covering him from the waist down he was naked. He could see that his stomach wound was seeping blood, as well.

Dammit. Even that small amount of moving around had done him damage.

"I can't keep them away from you, not completely," Vash said apologetically. "But I'll do my best to keep your interaction with them as short as possible."

Knives growled, but he didn't move. Relief and anger were equally vying for his attention, and he was horrified to realize Vash was still a very powerful presence in his mind.

He could drag him right back into his mind whenever he wanted. He'd faked the barricade, but Knives had no doubt the mindscape he'd seen was really his own.

Actually, so was the wreckage, Vash murmured. I didn't know, Knives.

He tossed the knife he's manifested into the door in disgust, and immediately regretted it as the bullet wound burned.

Now what, brother?

Vash slumped in the chair, an odd smile playing on his face.

"I have an idea."

Vash . . .

You'll like it, Knives. I think it'll work.

He stared at the ceiling, because it was the only thing he could do.

I won't be at your mercy forever, brother.

I never wanted you there in the first place, Knives. I just needed to know what you wanted. What would make you happy.

What I wanted.

Vash smiled, the first genuine one Knives had seen in quite some time. Oddly, he didn't feel so far away.

"You can't wipe out all the humans without killing me. You can't have Eden without me, but there can't be any humans. It sounds like a contradiction, but it really isn't."

"Brother, get to the point or I will silence you."

"I think we were born to prevent the humans from unknowingly killing our sisters. You think we were born to prevent the humans from greedily killing our sisters. No contradiction there, right? We both want to save the plants."

Knives remained silent.

"We'll go from settlement to settlement, replacing their plants with another energy source, and when we leave we'll take our sisters with us. We'll take them to your Eden."

Knives laughed, bitterly, and again, his diaphragm gave him a sharp poke. "I'm sure the humans will welcome you with open arms, brother."

"I . . . I won't give them the choice to refuse," he said softly.

Knives caught his gaze and held it. You don't mean that, brother. What if your spiders resist you?

I'll do what I've been doing since you put that $$60 billion bounty on my head, Knives. I'll find ways to stop them without killing them.

You can't possibly think you can survive this. You think preventing one town from collecting your bounty means you can jump from web to web without danger?

If I have to, I'll force them to move to another settlement. Those eyes never left his. Never shook. If they give me no other option, I'll free the plant and leave. If they want the alternate reactor, I'll offer to come back and I'll build it myself if I have to.

Knives pinned him with a look. And what alternate power source is this?

"I know a little kid with a good idea. I know a woman with the right skills. And I know a certain pair of insurance agents that can make it very unattractive for townships to reject the offer."

Vash smiled, throwing his arms wide before scrunching up the left side of his face in pain. He didn't drop the arm, though. "Didn't you hear, Knives? I'm an act of God. I'm a natural force. I'm Valentinez Alkalinella Xifax Sicidabohertz Gombigobilla Blue Stradivari Talentr-"

I'm going to cut out your tongue if you don't shut up, Vash.

He trailed off, then stuck out the threatened tongue. But then how would I eat donuts?

Knives barely suppressed the thought in time, and Vash looked at him curiously.

What?

So you free the plants, Vash. That doesn't solve the problem.

It stops them from exploiting our brethren. One of the main reasons you hate them so much.

Knives considered. Freeing his brothers and sisters was high on his list of benefits gained from wiping out the humans. But it didn't stop their fear of superior beings. Didn't stop their instinct to kill or be killed.

Vash's eyes were sad, but he kept a hopeful expression. "Meanwhile, you'll be in charge of creating Eden."

Knives blinked. Vash, I don't understand how your mind works.

He put his feet on the edge of Knives' mattress, making it dip slightly. "We need someplace for our sisters to live when we free them. They don't belong in this dimension, Knives. You know that. But that doesn't stop them from being able to interact with this world."

Once you break the inner bulb, Vash, they can no longer exist in this dimension.

Have you ever sat down and talked with your sisters, Knives?

I would have happily talked to Tessla for hours, but unfortunately your spiders tortured, sickened, and then killed her.

I'm serious.

Their entire lives are nothing but a controlled drain on their lives that they cannot prevent or comprehend. They have barely anything to say.

"I bet you intimidated them, Knives," Vash observed. "You're really scary unless you're trying to be nice, and they're really just like kids-"

You're telling me they flee from their human captors and tormentors the moment they have the chance, Vash. This I know.

Let's give them a place to flee to, if they want it. Let them have the choice. Free will.

Your spiders will still be on this planet, and they'll find any Eden we build.

"Of course they will," he agreed. "But if they do, you know what will happen."

I'll destroy every last one of them.

He shook his head cheerfully. "Nope. I will."

Knives stared at him, and Vash's eyes were totally serious. For about three seconds.

"You interrupted me when I was telling you. Ahem. Talentrent Pierre Andri Charton-Haymoss Ivanovici Baldeus George Doitzel Kaiser the Third."

The piece, as irritatingly as it had been placed on the table, clicked.

Vash grinned. "Exactly. If they bother the land of Vash the Stampede, this particular force of Nature will probably not stay put. And who knows what kind of damage and mayhem he'll cause? Nope, it'll be much nicer to simply create massive border patrols run by the government to prevent any humans from accidentally waking the sleeping giant."

Knives again considered. Freeing the plants, letting the humans develop less harmful forms of power. Letting them prevent themselves from intruding onto the land.

But it wouldn't work. Eventually their government would break down. Eventually the humans would notice the beauty, they'd come to tear Eden apart.

Vash shook his head. "I will protect Eden, Knives. I won't kill them, but I'll keep our family safe."

Fear will not check their greed forever.

It doesn't have to. They'll change. They're already changing. You'll see.

Knives swore. "Vash, it's impossible."

He was staring out the window, at the glaring morning light, and he pulled his feet off the bed, tucking his knees up under his chin. "Maybe. But wouldn't you rather wait in Eden than keep circling out here?"

Knives watched his face, and he realized, suddenly, why that thought saddened Vash so much.

He'd always hated being alone.

"I won't be alone, Knives. I'll be with you."

The spiders can't come with you, Vash.

For the first time, his voice shook. "I know. I don't think our sisters would appreciate their presence any more than you would, Knives." His voice was very soft. "I told you, Knives. We'd have to compromise."

You don't understand what you're saying, brother.

A tear slid down his brother's cheek, and Knives frowned at it. Vash didn't seem to notice. "Yes, I do. I know once we've replaced every plant, I won't be able to see them anymore."

They'll kill each other. Just as they have always done. When they are done warring with one another, they will turn their weapons on us. You'll have to kill them to protect our brethren.

You'll have to kill the spider, or it will kill the butterfly.

He smiled, sadly, and another tear coursed down his cheek.

"I'm saving them both, Knives. We're getting what we wanted. I believe that plants and humans can live in peace, and you believe in an Eden without humans."

And when all the plants are replaced, when they turn on one another, kill each other? Will you do nothing as their screams carry to our Eden?

Free will, Knives. They have it too. They're born with it. Wolfwood saw it. They'll learn.

Knives shook his head.

If we don't compromise, both will die.

The memory of his sandy mindscape rose unbidden, and Knives glared at Vash. But he wasn't certain his twin had been the one projecting it.

There are humans all over this universe. I don't worry about all of them, Knives. This is the only way I can save the ones I can see. Please, let me save them. Vash's lip quirked, and he sighed. "Can I at least write them letters?"

"The big one."

Vash blinked at him.

"I won't tolerate the other one. Rem is ultimately the reason for all of this, and I will not have that spider reminding you of her at every turn."

Vash just stared at him.

I don't understand you, Vash.

Look who's talking.

I agree that some tabs will have to be kept on the humans. As much as I'd like to prevent all communication, permanently, I understand the necessity of collecting intelligence to protect our interests. I will allow that one.

Vash's grin seemed to light up the room. "Yeah, Wolfwood noticed that about her too. Isn't it weird? She really freaks me out sometimes."

Knives closed his eyes, trying to ignore the ache behind his eyes, the ache in his limbs.

I know it hurts, Knives. I'm sorry I hurt you.

If anything happens to you during the reactor project, I will wipe them out.

I know.

If you betray me-

I won't.

Vash, it will fail. You understand that, right?

If we do nothing, we keep hurting. If you're so certain they're not going to change, then we have to.

There was a distant clattering, down the hall, and Knives opened his eyes again.

"You really will get to like them. They cook pretty well."

This will be harder than you realize, brother.

Not on me.

Knives' eyes widened in surprise, and he glared into Vash's bright smile.

What? It's nothing I haven't been doing for the past century or so. Do you know how ridiculous you look when you do that?

Laugh now, Vash. Let's see how well you do when you're not reading my thoughts.

. . . yeah, about that. I kinda missed this.

Knives carefully hid his response, and they both glanced towards the door at the approaching footsteps.

Fin

-

Author's Notes: In case you missed it (or you skipped here because you're confused) the entire story, until the end when Vash reveals they're in the real world, takes place within Vash's mind. For every 'door' that Knives passes through, he is taken to another scenario that Vash has constructed. Once that construct is destroyed or escaped, Knives continues through the next 'door.' Every time he's able to find a Vash that's hiding from him, he gets returned to the grassy hill to talk about it with Vash before he gets booted back into the circle. This is ultimately to force Knives to determine what he really wants without letting him actually destroy anything.

The beginning is shown from Vash's POV because Knives believes he's 'conquered' the mental construct this time, and it was necessary for him to think he had control of Vash's game in order to continue learning. It was easier to show what Vash wanted Knives to sense from Vash's POV than Knives'.

Normally I would have written a redeeming epic. Ashes of Chaos comes to mind. But luckily I don't have to, since Alaena Night has done so for me, with her fic Charcoal and Feathers. Even so, I was afraid that no one was really going to answer the question of 'What does Vash expect to happen by bringing Knives to the girls? There's no way for these two to coexist. Neither one is changing their mind.' This was the first out that occurred to me.

It sort of made me sad in the anime that they didn't do much saving of the plants. I suspect there's an explanation of that in the manga, but I am unhappily ignorant of it, so I'll just have to wait and find out.