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Blue Skies of Eden	By : beowulfsword Category: +S to Z > Trigun Views: 2133 -:- 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
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- 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun or anything about it. I just own this story and the characters of my own design.
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Author's Note: lol, you guys might hate me for this chapter because of its major cliffhanger, but I felt it necessary because the chapter is already six pages long, NOT including anything above the "Chapter Two: Sunny, Sunny Days."
Okay, BIG announcement.
While I'm writing this, I am writing three other Knives romances. Well . . . two of which ARE romances, but the third is just a one-shot with MAYBE some romance.

Story One: the long-awaited sequel to "Humanity: Torn Between Loving It and Hating It."
Why did I suddenly decide this? Well, I'm STILL getting reviews for that story, even though it had been completed years ago. I went back and read some of the chapters, TRYING to figure out why you guys like it so much.
I can kinda see where you might be drawn in with the cliffhangers and humor. I mean, I even found myself laughing at some points.
The sequel will be centered around building Knives and Kale's relationship, and it will immediately be rated "Mature." ;]

Story Two: Knives (and maybe Vash) gets thrown either into the past or into reality, on Earth in the year 2006. Won't really elaborate on this one because I'm still shaping the plot right now.

Story Three: The one-shot. Knives finally gives up on life, but when on the brink of death he is rescued by a small group of orphans who are struggling to survive on their own with the odds against them. When they're in trouble, he regains his spark for living and gains a new sense of protectiveness for the children he begins to consider his own.
So be looking for the titles, "Take Me to Paradise", "The Pathway to Heaven", and "Where the Rain Falls", 'kay? :D
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Adultfanfiction-net: lol, wow, everyone seems to like Ginger. I was trying to pull off the "tough kid" personality and wrap it up in kindness and good-heartedness as well without it coming out Mary-Sue-ish. And nooooo! You hate Darian? ;-; And yeah, all questions should be answered real soon. Enjoy the chapter, Amanda!

Fanfiction-net:

MizuiroHiei: lol, I love my bag, but I keep the picture face down or turned away from me when I'm in the room. Paranoia and stuff, ya know?
And good! I really want an update from you! Like . . . now.
As for the collaboration . . . That'd be cool, but I gotta tell you that I really DON'T like doing them. I did two in my life and they were both really crappy and unorganized. Plus, I REALLY don't have much time for one. I only write when I get the time after all, and we both don't have enough so the story would take forever, ya know?

Igbogal: So you think it's Ginger and her gang? Awesome. :D
And anyone can write a romance and keep the characters from turning into any member of the Sue family. If you give them conflict, independence, and personality, you'll be fine. So please try? ;-; It can be drabbles or a one-shot, ya know, just to test out the new waters.
While I enjoy writing Knives romances, I freaking love reading them, especially by those who have good writing skills, which you have.

Random: lol, um, wow, thanks. Even though it was really small, your review was very flattering. I'm glad you enjoy my work, so please help yourself to another chapter, yeah? :D
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Title: Blue Skies of Eden

Anime Category: Trigun

Genre: Romance/Action/Humor/Violence

Rating: Mature

Parings: Knives/Original Character

Summary: Knives lives for his ideal dreams of an Eden for him, Vash, and the rest of his species. Despite what his brother's insistent reasoning, he will always despise humans and entertain any idea that deals with destroying them. Until one day he wakes up to find himself lying in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room, with a broken and badly burned body, and in the care of a human woman who he suspects injured him in the first place.

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Chapter Three: Sunny, Sunny Days
"Eat it!"
"I refuse!"
"You're going to eat this!"
"Never!"
"You are, and you're going to like it!"
"I said no, bitch!"
"EAT IT!"

"Get that garbage away from me!"
"Eat it or I'll force it down your damn throat!"
"NO!"
"NOW!"
From the safety of the hall, Madison and Darian watched in stunned silence as the light blonde-haired man tried his best to fight off their commander without causing anymore damage to himself as she ruthlessly tried to force a spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth.
"How long has it been?" Madison whispered, cringing when the naked and heavily bandaged man slapped the steaming bowl of oatmeal from the woman's hand in his desperate attempt to get away.
"A week . . . ," the taller man murmured, flinching as their hot-tempered boss threw herself on top of the protesting stranger, causing him to cry out in surprise and pain only to have it cut short when she stuffed his mouth with oatmeal.
---
"Tell me!"
"Mind your own business, spider!"
"If you don't tell me your name right now, so help me, I'll--"
"You'll what? Glare at me with that thing you call a face?"

"No. This!"
They had been taking turns peeping through the keyhole of the locked door, both drawn to the loud, arguing voices. Madison was currently peeking through the hole and watched as the angry woman reached out to his bare upper body and sank her nails into a practically nasty looking bruise marring his otherwise naked and flat abdomen, wringing a shout of pain from him.
Madison turned from the door just as the man jerked his body the wrong way that tore another cry from his lips.
He gazed up at his silent companion. "How long's it been now?"
Through the thick wood of the door they heard the woman shout over the man's bellowing, "Tell me!"
"Knives!" he shouted, then softly said afterwards, angry, pained tears soaking his voice, " . . . son of bitch . . !"
Darian stared at the door for a moment before glancing down at him.
"Just a few weeks."
---
"Leave me be, you whore!"
"Knives, stop being so stubborn and let me help you!"
"I don't want nor need your ridiculous help!"
Madison and Darian's heads snapped up from their breakfast plates. They locked gazes for a split second before bolting from their chairs and rushing to the open kitchen window.
Out in the desert of golden sand and under the morning suns hobbled their disgruntled patient, desperately limping away from their insistent commander.
Today the man was dressed in a light pair of tight-fitting jeans, heavy black boots, and a wrinkled, pale blue shirt that lay unbuttoned and opened, revealing his well-toned body and the white bandages wrapped tightly around his ribs.
Nearly the rest of his body was dressed in tight white wrappings and gauze, including his whole right arm propped up in a sling and practically all of his chest, shoulders, and some of his neck.
He walked on a single crutch that he had tucked up under his left arm, assisting him in keeping weight off his right leg that was currently clamped inside a brace made of dense metal and padding.
They were all amazed at how quickly he had progressed, though they remained firm and kept him wrapped like a mummy and under a watchful eye due to his still obvious healing.
Suddenly, the man of light-blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes jerked the crutch out from under his arm and used is as a means to keep their boss at a distance, throwing obscenities and insults at her as he hobbled and hopped backwards, trying to get away from his harasser.
"Knives! Get back here!" she shouted before charging at him.
"Get lost!" he barked before stumbling precariously, startled by her sudden and aggressive move towards him. The fight ended with him landing hard on his ass and her nearly tripping over him, not foreseeing his rough descent to the hot desert floor.
"Argh!" he gritted, shunning away when she fell to her knees next to him and attempted to check if he was seriously hurt. She slapped at his flailing hand and shouted irritably at him to stop acting like a child.
Madison glanced quietly at Darian, an eyebrow raised expectantly.
The dark-haired man turned from the window and moved back toward the table where his breakfast was starting to cool.
"Over a month."
---
He ground his teeth together as she began the routine checkup on his person. First step, unwrapping his bound body.
"Stop trying to set me on fire. It won't work," she said idly, feeling his abhorred-filled glare weighing down on her bowed head.
He sneered and turned his face away, directing his angry gaze on the unsuspecting wall, mentally growling, 'If only you knew, wench.'

He loathed being there, cooped up in the small house and dealing with the pushy woman, the creepily silent cretin, and the asshole who couldn't keep his damned mouth shut.
His electric-blue eyes slid over to the smoothly polished nightstand next to him, gazing longingly over the black glossy body of his beloved revolver.
"Argh! Be careful, you ignorant bitch!" he snarled after she had rubbed some salve a little too hard into a particularly nasty burn located just under his firm pectorals.
She returned his evil look when she glanced up at him under her lashes, but she listened and lightened her antics. "Don't be such a pussy, Knives."
"Excuse me?"
She sat back with an exaggerated sigh and shoved a strand of fire-red hair out of her face, frowning at him in displeasure.
"Quit whining and suck it up! You're healing astonishingly well and quick, so you can't be in that much pain anymore."
"If I'm doing better, then why won't you leave me alone?!"
"I didn't say you were completely healed! You still are healing and so I want to make sure you do it right!"
"And where in this process does it need you jabbing your fingers into my wounds?!"
She sank her teeth into her tongue, preventing any foul language to spew forth, and instead said in a forceful tone while looking him dead in the eye, "I apologize if I've hurt you, Knives. I'm only trying to help."
He just snorted and gave her a look that screamed conceitedness and a self-proclamation of godliness.
"As well as you should, spider tramp. If hurting me is healing in your eyes, then you might as well have left me in Novembre."
Teeth clenched, she set about wrapping fresh, clean bandages around his naked upper torso and re-set his leg brace and sling. Picking up the medicines and other First Aid items, she left the room without a word, but punctuated her exit with an angry slam of the door.
He stared at the abused wooden barrier, seconds slowly ticking into minutes; the silence stretching out into infinity. He then turned his head away and sighed.
Looking upon his weapon again, he gingerly reached over with his left arm and grasped the cool grip, welcoming its heavy weight and cold steel like a security blanket before settling back into his pillows, the bare pad of his thumb rubbing circles over its cold, metallic armor.
The window above him was left open and a soft, warm breeze fluttered in and slid through his hair and over his thoughtful face.
Ginger was such an odd name for a woman who was anything but. Her temper could rival his own and her bold, commanding nature unnerved him. He didn't like her, and it wasn't just because she was human. It was the way she held herself every hour of the day that if he wasn't careful he could find himself feeling some admiration and respect for her.
And no human deserved anything from him, especially if it meant placing them in high regard.
His eyes narrowed, his fingers clenching around the grip of his revolver.

'Vash . . .'

He could kill them. He could end the healthy rhythm of their heartbeats, either with a bullet to the head or the razor end of his knives across the throat, or any other method he saw fit to enact. He could do it in a matter of seconds.
But every time he felt the urge to grab one of them and revel in the wonderful sensation of death as he strangled them, the vision of his accursed, human-loving fool of a brother would appear in his mind's eye, his face a resemblance of his own, set into a chilling expression of merciless retaliation if he harmed even one more mortal, whether they deserved it or not.
He had been defeated. He'd admit that willingly; that he had underestimated his twin's strength and determination to fight for what he believed in.
But he wouldn't let him sway his own beliefs. He believed that the humans were repeating their sins all over again by selfishly using his kin to help them survive.
And of course, if he told this to his brother, Vash would simply accuse him of being the one who directed the Big Fall and forced the mortals into a life of continuous hardship on the planet of eternal sand.
But then he would argue that if it hadn't been for Rem's damned meddling, there wouldn't be any humans on Gunsmoke.
He closed his eyes and sighed.
There really was no more point in thinking about it. In the end, their views on life were just too different to be discussed about.

Click.
His eyes snapped open.

Click. Click.

Immediately, he gripped his weapon of cold steel and forced himself out of bed despite his muscles and injuries crying out in protest.

'That sound . . . ,' he thought, eyes the color of Gunsmoke's sky. 'It's what brought me here in the first place . . .'

He painstakingly made his way out of his room and down the stairs, being as silent as possible. Cold perspiration collected on his temples as he fought to block out the rough, pounding ache in his wounds.
He stepped off the bottom step carefully and flattened himself against the wall that separated the hallway from the kitchen on the other side.

Click. Click. A soft curse.
Expression drained of any emotion but cold calculation, he lifted his night-tinted revolver and edged himself along the wall and toward the archway that led inside the room. He peered around it cautiously. What he saw caught him off guard, though he wasn't sure why.
Sitting on the white-tiled flooring with her back to him, Ginger held an artillery weapon that was practically twice her height and appeared to be twice her weight.
Her mane of flame-red hair was pulled back into a thick ponytail and her clothes were dirty and wrinkled as she ran a polishing cloth over the chrome plates and raised steel that made the surface of the weapon.
Next to her sat open a large cleaning kit, items and gadgets laying messily and used around it. He could see grease smudges on the small tile squares as he quietly limped up behind her.
His eyes were chilling and emotionless as he stopped a couple feet behind her. He lifted the revolver to the back of her bushy head and hissed, "It was you."
He saw her jump slightly, startled, and she twisted her body around only to find herself staring into the murdering end of his firearm. She directed her large, frightened gaze up to his cold one, her emerald-green eyes shimmering with confusion and shock.
"Kn-Knives! What are you--" she started with a squeak.
"You bitch!" He tightened his finger on the trigger, watching with sadistic glee as horror donned her softly freckled features.

"What are you talking--"
"You were the one who destroyed Novembre!"
She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off by roughly pressing the muzzle of the revolver against her forehead, tipping her head back with the force.
He sneered. "You put me in this state! You, who could have killed me! Oh, I'm going to enjoy this . . ."
He thought it odd that his brother's face didn't flash in his vision now as he tightened he pulled at the trigger, the hammer falling back slowly, dangerously.
Instead of his sibling's disapproving visage stopping him, however, he was stopped when the fear sank from her forest-green eyes, softening her features, and he felt her lean into the muzzle.
He blinked, surprised and bewildered, his finger frozen on the trigger that was just a few millimeters from doing its job.
"No, Knives," she whispered, looking up at him with full understanding, "it wasn't me. Or Madison, or Darian."
Something in his eyes must have told her that he didn't believe her for she said next, "I'll explain everything if you want the truth. If not," she smiled slightly, leaning more into the gun, "pull the trigger now."
He stood there, torn between doing just that and hearing her out.
They remained there for several minutes, him towering over her kneeling body with his gun pressed firmly against her temple.
Eyes revealing nothing, he suddenly moved the revolver away, his finger relaxing on the trigger. He stood there, unblinkingly. Taking the intuitive, the woman got up and moved toward the table, taking a seat and then waiting for him to follow suit.
After he got settled and rested his chilling gaze on her, she cleared her throat and began.
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Blue Skies of Eden