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Earth to Earth	By : Ravenclaw42 Category: +S to Z > Trigun Views: 2957 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Author's Note: This is a necessary interim chapter; I tried to keep enough story flowing to make it meaningful to the overall plot, but the action won�t start really moving again until chapter 13.

AFF.net is buttheaded about the length of the files posted per webpage. Since this chapter is so long, it had to be posted in two sections.

Earth to Earth

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Chapter Eleven: Degrees of Innocence

Part II

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�So, how is he?� Meryl asked, sipping her lukewarm coffee and making a face at the lack of sugar.

Vash let out a heavy breath, fell into the seat next to her, and dropped his face into his hands. �One big perforated bruise,� he said, muffled.

Meryl winced. �Ouch,� she muttered.

They were just outside the room where Milly was being examined by a harried nurse for her scalp wound and mild concussion. The big girl was unsteady and slightly dazed, but other than that she seemed fine. Earlier, Vash had talked to the doctors who had taken care of the gang of boys who had attacked Knives -- they were all going to live, probably, but a few would be in intensive care for over a month and one, the leader, was in the grip of a deep coma.

�I didn�t want it to come to this,� Vash groaned, thumping his head, hands and all, against his knees. �Dammit, I should�ve seen this coming. I�m losing it.�

Meryl leaned forward, patting him tentatively on the shoulder. �Vash� you can�t blame yourself. If you�d done anything� preemptive, that would have just made things worse. And Knives isn�t dead, you aren�t dead, Milly�s not dead. It could have been so much worse.�

�And a dead boy isn�t bad enough? We�re more important than him?� Vash snapped.

Meryl grimaced. �Vincent isn�t dead, Vash,� she said softly. �It�s just a coma.�

�Oh, that excuses everything,� Vash muttered darkly. �Even if he ever wakes, his spinal cord�s past repair. He�ll never move again. That�s worse than death for a worker�s child like him -- he won�t be able to use his hands, to do his job, to be respected.�

�No one would have respected him after what he did anyway,� Meryl retorted, but her heart wasn�t in it.

�That�s not the point,� Vash all but growled -- then he heard himself, and stopped. He let the tension seep out of his shoulders, tone and expression sobering. �Sorry. I didn�t mean to attack you.�

Meryl ran her small hand up the back of Vash�s neck and into his hair, combing through the uneven golden strands. �You should get out of here,� she said softly. �Leave, with Knives. I should never have brought you both here. I should have thought --�

�Don�t,� Vash said, �start that. There�s already enough blame flying around.� He sighed, thumped his head once more, then lifted his face to gaze at the far wall. �Yeah, I�d already made plans to leave. But I can�t go until everything�s sorted out -- I can�t run away from this.� He looked down at her, his expression achingly plaintive. �I ran away after the city crashed -- didn�t even help get the systems running again. Now I�ve made their children into murderers. They�ll never forgive me if I just --�

�Do you think they would have forgiven you anyway?� Meryl asked sharply. �Vash, �they� can handle themselves. And there are those here who want you two gone enough to risk the lives of their children to get rid of you.� She bit her cheek to keep from being distracted by the bottomless pain in Vash�s eyes. �I think it�ll be easier on everyone,� she said with cold finality, �if you�re not here.�

Vash opened his mouth to say something, closed it again. Finally he said, voice tight, �The Doc, Meryl. I have to see him off. I promised to stay until the end.�

�The end is past, Vash,� Meryl reminded him gently. �You know that. There�s nothing left of him to see off except an empty body.�

Vash said nothing, but there was an accusatory brightness in his eyes that tore Meryl�s heart to shreds.

�We�ll stay for the funeral,� Meryl said calmly, keeping the pain off her face. �Milly and I. Milly can get her feet back under her -- that won�t take long, the concussion wasn�t serious -- and then we�ll follow you and Knives, catch up to you in the desert.�

�Do I get a choice?�

�None at all.�

Vash looked away, lips pursed, face drawn. �All right,� he murmured at last. �We�ll leave tomorrow at second sunrise. East, towards Terma. Don�t tell anyone the direction, just say we left. White flag. I�ll ask Natalie to keep an eye out for any more trouble until you and Milly are gone.�

Meryl considered arguing that she and Milly could take care of themselves, then decided that it was better to just let it go for now.

Vash stood to leave and she got up after him, drawing herself up to her full, if not terribly impressive, height.

�Vash,� she said quickly, �I want you to know -- I don�t like Knives. I don�t like this entire situation. But this thing you�re doing for him, taking care of him after everything he�s done -- it�s the kind of right thing that not a lot of people could ever stand to do. I know I couldn�t, if I were in your shoes. And... and it�s enough, Vash. It�s respectable. It�s worthy. You�re worthy.� She touched his arm, standing straight and firm despite the faint blush staining her cheeks.

Vash covered her hand with his for a second, meeting her eyes. He no longer looked like the happy-go-lucky gunman whom she had refused to believe was the infamous Stampede. Now he looked like a bird with clipped wings. A dancer with no music, no stage, no fire. Now he looked like a man built for running, with nowhere left to run. The story until now had been written in stone; now the last page had been turned and suddenly there were no more words to follow.

Vash the Stampede had been spiraling down to this moment for his whole life, and now he�d reached it, and there was nothing left at the end of the spiral but empty space. Nothing left to do but fall. And Vash was afraid of that nothingness, afraid of making the wrong move, afraid of starting over, afraid of no longer being the victim, afraid of not running.

He was afraid to let go of the spiral, the pattern. Afraid to fall.

------

�Cynthia.�

The young woman jumped and clutched the front of her dress, cheeks blotched pink with startlement. (Like most of the ship�s people with no regular jobs, she had volunteered to help out in the flooded med bay.) She turned away from the sick girl she was tending to find a stocky, iron-haired woman with crossed arms staring at her.

�Oh, Natalie-sensei,� said Cynthia, �it�s you. Can I help you?� Her eyes flickered to the side nervously, afraid to meet those of the stern woman standing in front of her.

�It�s okay,� Natalie said, her expression softening slightly, �I�m not after you. Maybe you had something to do with it, maybe not. I don�t like pointing fingers.�

Cynthia blinked fast. �Oh,� she said softly. �No, neither do I.�

Natalie smiled, although her eyes remained just as hard as they had been when she walked into the room. �I�m looking for Charles McKenzie. You know where I might find him?�

�Charlie? He�s around here,� Cynthia replied, considerably less jittery. �The med bay, I mean. I saw him in the room where they�re keeping Vincent maybe an hour ago.�

�Thanks, Cynth.� Natalie uncrossed her arms. �Take care.� She left.

------

Natalie found Charlie McKenzie right where Cynthia had said -- sitting next to Vincent�s bed, staring off into space and fingering his sleeve cuffs. The comatose boy was all a mass of tubes and hastily-assembled machines; they�d been out of rooms equipped for intensive care when he�d been brought in, and now no one dared move him. He looked more machine than human. The blood was gone, but Natalie could see where it had been by the strips of tape and the bruises peeking out from under heavy white bandages. The kid was a wreck. It hardly seemed like a life worth living, comatose or not.

Natalie leaned against the dented metal doorframe, crossed her arms, and gave Charlie a long, hard stare.

Eventually, he looked up. �What do you want?� he said, and there was a clipped coarseness in his voice, like he�d been swallowing back tears and bile for a long time.

Natalie shook her head. �Just wanted to see if you had anything to say for yourself.�

�What makes you think this was my idea?� Charlie asked defensively, eyes narrowing.

�Didn�t say it was,� Natalie said shortly. �Care to correct me?�

Charlie scowled. �I had nothing to do with this. I told him to watch, to keep clear of the guy until we knew more. I didn�t know he�d do this.�

Natalie nodded sagely. After a beat of silence, she said, �Of course, a few words is plenty enough to keep a group of unhappy young men with a passionate leader from lashing out against what they see as their enemy.�

�You�re twisting it,� Charlie said with the beginnings of anger. �It wasn�t like that.�

�Wasn�t it?� Natalie asked calmly. �Tell me how it wasn�t like that.�

�Vince -- he was scared. Scared as the rest of us. I�d say the -- the bastard must�ve done something to just trigger that fear, and Vince did something rash before he could think.� Charlie�s tone became more self-assured as he talked. �Things like that happen, y�know. Whatever happened, it wasn�t Vince�s fault. Couldn�t of been. I mean, Vince is normal. That other guy, both of them -- no telling what goes through their heads.�

Natalie snorted. �Doesn�t take a brain surgeon to figure out what goes on in anyone�s head, Mac. And Vince was normal, sure. Normal like serial killers are normal. He�s just as human as me and you. I can believe he was afraid -- everyone is, now. But Knives didn�t trigger it. It triggered itself, if anything. We�d been building up to this for a long time, or were you too blind to see that?�

Charlie pressed his lips into a line so thin and hard that Natalie thought one of them might split. �You can�t tell me,� he said coldly, �that no matter who or what started it, that -- that creature didn�t deserve what he got.�

The air between them changed imperceptibly; the tension grew more brittle, more frigid. Natalie stepped slowly away from the door, towards Charlie. He shrank back slightly in his seat, suddenly aware of her sheer matriarchal power.

�None of it matters now,� Natalie said in a low, dangerous tone. �It�s done and past. But let me tell you one thing, Charles Evan McKenzie. You will find no work or respect on this ship if you choose to stay. I can raise a glass ceiling over you so thick that an atomic bomb couldn�t break it. So maybe you better start thinking about the desert you�ve just exiled �those creatures� to, because unless you want to spend the rest of your life as scum on the bottom of my shoe, you�ll be out there joining them.�

Charlie shot up out of his seat, red-hot with anger and indignity. �How dare you!� he said in a half-choked cry. �You can�t talk to me like that! My family goes back to the Fall, dammit, back to Earth -- we helped pilot this piece of junk! How dare you try to banish me from my own ship!�

Natalie gave him a level, expressionless stare and said, �This ship belongs to no one. This ship is a good home and it�s served its life well. Now it�s become a casualty of time, and we are planetside people whether we admit it or not. It will be no different out there from in here. Your family has no legacy anymore.�

Charlie was deflating now, desperate and even more angry because of that desperation. �Slander my family name all you want, bitch,� he hissed, �but you can�t put me out of a job. I�ve been heading the mech crew for over thirty-five years. I�m a big name around here, and you know it. You�ve got nothing on me.�

�I�ve got the lives of twelve mutilated children on you,� Natalie replied calmly. �And that�s more than enough to ruin the greatest of names.�

�You--� Charlie began, pointing a gnarled finger at her. Natalie saw that there were tear tracks streaking his red face now, although he didn�t seem to have noticed.

��I� nothin�,� Natalie said sharply. �This conversation�s over, Mac. I�ve said everything I came to say. You can stay and find out exactly how low I can bring you, or you can take my word for it and leave now. That town we crashed near, New Oregon -- I�ve been out there coupla times. It�s no so bad once you get used to it.�

�You can�t make me leave,� Charlie said one last time.

�Watch me,� Natalie replied, and shut the door in his face on her way out.

------

First sunrise the next morning found Michael knocking as quietly as he could at Vash�s door, not wanting to wake the gunman if he was still sleeping. Meryl had told him the twins were leaving, but Michael was still a little disbelieving that they�d run off so quickly, especially with Knives� injuries.

�Come on in, lock code�s off.�

The young doctor was a little startled to hear Vash�s voice answer his timid knock. He palmed the door panel and discovered that the lock was, indeed, turned off -- although he couldn�t imagine why Vash would be so trusting so soon.

The door slid open, and Michael stepped inside warily, noting that the room�s single bed was empty and made, and that Vash was sitting on the other side of the room in the chair usually occupied by Meryl or Jessica. Vash gestured absently for him to close the door with one hand; the other was busy buckling and snapping his leather arm-sheath on. He was wearing his usual off-white shirt and loose, faded jeans, but the lower part of the jeans were covered up by tall, heavy boots. Traveling boots.

They looked strange without the coat to go with them.

�Going out?� Michael ventured to ask, when Vash made no further move to acknowledge his existence. The doctor scanned the room surreptitiously -- a beaten old duffel bag was lying half-full on the bed, and a small mound of bullets had been dumped unceremoniously on the table next to the chair where Vash sat. Even as he watched, Vash flexed his newly-gloved fingers, unfolded the hidden machine gun in a flash, pried open a panel on the top, and started loading his arm.

�You could say that,� Vash said distractedly, snapping bullets into place with the kind of practiced efficiency that made Michael wonder how many times he�d done the exact same thing before.

A few moments passed in dead silence, the only sounds those of metal scraping metal and the hygiene cubicle running on low. �You shouldn�t,� Michael said finally, folding his hands behind his back and donning the air of an intervention. �I know what happened hurt you more than anyone, but running is no way to solve --�

Vash looked up sharply at that. �Me?� he asked, and his tone was more cold than Michael had ever heard it. Sea-green eyes leveled with the doctor�s dark brown. �You think I was hurt worst? I�m the sensitive one, right, the sweet and compassionate one, so obviously I got hurt worse than the actual victim.�

Michael caved under Vash�s relentless stare, averting his eyes. He hadn�t really thought that... well, that was, Vash�s brother was just so... so...

Vash looked away, freeing Michael from his hard gaze. �Don�t ever assume evil exists just to make black easier to tell apart from white,� he murmured, staring at the far wall vacantly. �Don�t ever assume that misled ideals are any less pure. And don�t ever think that my brother is incapable of feeling. They hurt him, not me.�

�But you...� Michael offered weakly, waving one hand in a helpless gesture.

Vash flipped the panel closed on his arm, retracting the machine gun into the depths of the prosthetic shell. He didn�t look at Michael when he stood up and started packing a last few little throwaway items into his duffel.

Just then, the background humming from the hygiene cubicle stopped, and the door slid open. Michael�s heart skipped a beat, cold sweat threatening to pop out on his forehead. He wiped his upper lip nervously, staring at the man who had just emerged from the room�s tiny bathroom.

Still beaten, yes, but healing fast; the minor cuts and bruises all over his body had all but vanished. His stomach wound was slowing him down and obviously caused him a great deal of pain, but he walked upright anyway, keeping the hurt to himself. He had one towel wrapped firmly high around his waist, and was drying his short hair with another. Michael�s eyes were drawn helplessly to the perfect, tiny craters in his shoulders and chest -- gunshot scars. A tiny handful of markings, a mere spattering of history compared to the entire timeline carved into Vash�s flesh -- but still, they were there, and they screamed of the total dysfunction and utter wrongness of this twisted little family.

Knives turned to look at Michael, and for a second time seemed to stand still. Michael was afraid to move, breathe, think, exist. Those eyes were still uncomprehending... still so cold, despite Vash�s assurance that Knives remembered nothing of who he once was.

�Vash,� Knives said quietly, turning his pale blue gaze away from the doctor to look towards his brother. Michael let out a deep breath, shoving his hands in his pockets to stop them from shaking.

Vash moved to the end of the bed and picked up a stack of clothes and a roll of gauze and tape that Michael hadn�t noticed before. He gave Michael the barest of glances before motioning to his brother to come closer. �Stand still,� he murmured, leaving the clothes close at hand and taking the end of the gauze in his teeth to pull it free of the roll.

Michael watched in stunned bewilderment as Vash gently rebandaged his brother�s abdomen, pausing to remove medical tape from the healed cuts and replacing it on the gashes that were coming loose. He bound the white strips more tightly than was comfortable in some places, adjusting for what little stretching the gauze would do while walking. Knives winced, but said nothing.

Tying off the last loose end, Vash patted Knives on the shoulder (mindful not to jar anything painful). �All done,� he said, tossing Knives the stack of clothes so he could get dressed. Knives nodded in acknowledgement.

Michael finally found his voice again. �Vash --� he began.

Vash waved a hand to silence him. �I�m taking him away from here,� he said firmly, shoving the leftover bandages into his bag and cinching it closed. �It was wrong of us come here in the first place. I had no right to impose on you.�

The way he said you, as if he didn�t consider himself part of the ship�s family anymore, made Michael�s heart sink. That lack of possession in his wording, that distance in his tone... Vash was slipping away from them again, and this time Michael didn�t think he would come back.

Knives finished fumbling with the last few buttons on his off-white shirt. His clothes mostly matched Vash�s except for his pants, which had a drawstring waist so that they would be easy to get on and off and wouldn�t cut into his injuries when he moved.

�What about the girls?� Michael asked.

Vash lifted his heavy duffel easily in one hand and swung it over his shoulder, where it thumped against his back. �Let them sleep,� he said, walking over to Michael and laying a hand on his shoulder. �When they wake up, tell them we�ve gone.�

�But --�

�They�ll follow us eventually,� Vash said. �Don�t worry about it. They�ll tell you everything.�

�Vash, I didn�t want it to be like this,� Michael blurted, wringing his hands wretchedly. �You were always one of us, family -- everyone tried to accept things as they were, but --�

Vash�s hand squeezed his shoulder for a split-second before letting go. �It�s too late for that,� he said. �Drop it.�

Michael could think of nothing else to say. Vash helped Knives with one last elusive button on his shirt, and then the brothers were off, leaving the ship for good. Knives was still limping severely, so Vash put an arm around his back for support. Hunched under the weight of the duffel and his brother, Vash looked just like all the old pictures of Atlas, the ancient Greek who carried the world on his shoulders.

Michael followed them outside, trailing a few feet behind, forever too far away to hold them back. He stopped at the outer doorway and watched them move further and further away, out onto the cool early-morning sands. Vash murmured something into Knives� ear, and they turned around a few dozen yards from the ship, squinting into the rising suns and waving at anyone who might be looking. Knives� wave was programmed, unfeeling; but Vash�s wave was a true goodbye... maybe a final goodbye.

Only Michael saw them. He waved back, but with the glare of the suns behind him, he was sure they couldn�t see.

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Earth to Earth

Earth to Earth--------Chapter Eleven: Degrees of InnocencePart II--------

Earth to Earth

--------

Chapter Eleven: Degrees of Innocence

Part II

--------