FIC: Dust 1/1 (Trigun)
Mar. 4th, 2004 09:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
keelywolfeDust
By Keelywolfe
Series: Trigun
Pairing: Vash/Knives
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Implied incest.
Summary: Long after the last episode in the series, Vash goes to visit an old friend.
Notes: I guess I am still in a weird mood. I always did love Trigun but I'm such a Froot Loop about funerals in stories, write 'em all the time which is weird because I hate them in real life. Anyway.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the storyline, and I am making no money from this. Thank you.
~~*~~
They'd been too late for the funeral.
It had taken them almost a week to travel to December and with the heat like it was, they couldn't have waited even if anyone had known they were coming. Not that anyone did.
The sun had already saturated the few flowers on the grave, crumpled stems with faded blue petals in skeletal piles. Tiny graves upon a grave, Vash thought, and hated that it had occurred to him. The tears had started when they'd barely passed the city limits and now they flowed freely, pattering droplets of damp on the already hard-packed soil.
His brother stood behind him. Vash could feel his cool disapproval and ignored it. It wasn't anything he hadn't felt before. He laid one hand on the curve of the dirt over the grave. He remembered someone had told him once that there was never enough dirt to fill in a grave again, even with the added bulk of the casket and wondered if it was true.
"I don’t know why you’re so upset," Knives sniffed. "You knew she was going to die the moment that you met her. The only questions were when and how."
"Yes, I knew she would die," Vash agreed quietly, his hands busily arranging the flowers. They crumpled to dust under his fingertips and he finally just brushed them aside. Milly wouldn't have wanted him to be sad and he nearly smiled, imagining her scolding him for being so overemotional. He hadn't seen her in too many years, only the occasional letter from her reaching him. He still missed her.
Knives huffed softly, pebbles scattering as he took an impatient step forward. So very typical of him. Typical, too, for him to push harder, needling his brother with words that dug deeper than a bullet. "It’s such a waste for you to bother with them. Walking slabs of meat that barely live long enough to scratch the surface of time."
This time Vash said nothing, only lowered his head in what might have been acknowledgment, or, more likely, a silent prayer for the woman buried beneath. She would have appreciated the gesture.
"Well, we’ve played your little game for a while now, isn’t it time to play one of mine?" Knives asked petulantly before Vash could finish. Like a child; they were both still little more than children, both of them had been playing games for a very long time now, only their games often resulted in the destruction of cities and of lives, including their own.
They'd stayed with his two insurance girls for some time after their last fight. Nearly two years had passed before Knives had even spoken. Not out of any injury or a loss of memory like Vash had experienced, but out of sheer childish spite at having lost the game that had taken them nearly two centuries to play to completion. Even when he had started talking again, it had only been to Vash, as if their human companions had been beneath his notice.
And it had been a game, Vash realized now. Not to him perhaps, but his brother made no illusions of nobility where human life was concerned, and giving his brother’s love for humanity, Knives would have no qualms about using humans as living pawns in his private game of chess.
Only two pawns had made it to the other side of the board and had been made queens, until Vash had realized he couldn't let them play on his side anymore. And he'd taken his brother and left them.
"We do what I want because if we do the things you want, people die," Vash explained calmly, as if Knives didn’t already know. Meryl still lived here and it was so very tempting to see her, to wonder at the changes age would have wrought on her over the years. He tasted guilt on the back of his tongue and knew that he wouldn't. He couldn't lose the picture of her he had in his mind, so strong and sweet. That was his alone.
"I don’t have to stay here with you." But he heard the shrillness in his brother's voice, the soft taint of something like fear.
"No, you don’t," Vash replied agreeably. "But if you go off on your own, and people start to die again, I won’t follow you this time. You can kill every person on this planet, and I won’t lift a finger. And you’ll be all alone." It was a lie, and Knives would know it for one. Vash could no more sit and watch people die then he could press the cold metal of a gun barrel against the back of his own throat and pull the trigger, but the threat was still there, more vicious for its knowledge.
"Give me something," Grudgingly begging, and Vash finally stood, dusting his hands off on his pants. He stood in front of Milly's grave, in front of his brother and very lightly traced his brother’s lips with the tip of a gloved finger. Another habit he’d been unable to break; the red coat had been discarded years before, a silent victim to their private war, but the gloves had remained.
Knives shuddered, eyes closing, and really, wasn’t this all they had? Just this and nothing else.
"You'd be lost without me," Knives whispered, his eyes slitted open until the faintest gleam of blue shone out and Vash could never have resisted his touch, the achingly soft brush of his lips so brief before the kiss turned bitingly brutal and that was always Knives, always, his fingers wrapped desperately around his brother's wrists as if to keep him still. As if Vash could leave him.
"Yes," Vash murmured, simply, the words soft against his brother's mouth. "I always was." His tears had long since dried but he closed his eyes as his brother pressed gentle kisses against the salty tracks on his cheeks, lapping away the taste of his sorrow.
-finis-
By Keelywolfe
Series: Trigun
Pairing: Vash/Knives
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Implied incest.
Summary: Long after the last episode in the series, Vash goes to visit an old friend.
Notes: I guess I am still in a weird mood. I always did love Trigun but I'm such a Froot Loop about funerals in stories, write 'em all the time which is weird because I hate them in real life. Anyway.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the storyline, and I am making no money from this. Thank you.
~~*~~
They'd been too late for the funeral.
It had taken them almost a week to travel to December and with the heat like it was, they couldn't have waited even if anyone had known they were coming. Not that anyone did.
The sun had already saturated the few flowers on the grave, crumpled stems with faded blue petals in skeletal piles. Tiny graves upon a grave, Vash thought, and hated that it had occurred to him. The tears had started when they'd barely passed the city limits and now they flowed freely, pattering droplets of damp on the already hard-packed soil.
His brother stood behind him. Vash could feel his cool disapproval and ignored it. It wasn't anything he hadn't felt before. He laid one hand on the curve of the dirt over the grave. He remembered someone had told him once that there was never enough dirt to fill in a grave again, even with the added bulk of the casket and wondered if it was true.
"I don’t know why you’re so upset," Knives sniffed. "You knew she was going to die the moment that you met her. The only questions were when and how."
"Yes, I knew she would die," Vash agreed quietly, his hands busily arranging the flowers. They crumpled to dust under his fingertips and he finally just brushed them aside. Milly wouldn't have wanted him to be sad and he nearly smiled, imagining her scolding him for being so overemotional. He hadn't seen her in too many years, only the occasional letter from her reaching him. He still missed her.
Knives huffed softly, pebbles scattering as he took an impatient step forward. So very typical of him. Typical, too, for him to push harder, needling his brother with words that dug deeper than a bullet. "It’s such a waste for you to bother with them. Walking slabs of meat that barely live long enough to scratch the surface of time."
This time Vash said nothing, only lowered his head in what might have been acknowledgment, or, more likely, a silent prayer for the woman buried beneath. She would have appreciated the gesture.
"Well, we’ve played your little game for a while now, isn’t it time to play one of mine?" Knives asked petulantly before Vash could finish. Like a child; they were both still little more than children, both of them had been playing games for a very long time now, only their games often resulted in the destruction of cities and of lives, including their own.
They'd stayed with his two insurance girls for some time after their last fight. Nearly two years had passed before Knives had even spoken. Not out of any injury or a loss of memory like Vash had experienced, but out of sheer childish spite at having lost the game that had taken them nearly two centuries to play to completion. Even when he had started talking again, it had only been to Vash, as if their human companions had been beneath his notice.
And it had been a game, Vash realized now. Not to him perhaps, but his brother made no illusions of nobility where human life was concerned, and giving his brother’s love for humanity, Knives would have no qualms about using humans as living pawns in his private game of chess.
Only two pawns had made it to the other side of the board and had been made queens, until Vash had realized he couldn't let them play on his side anymore. And he'd taken his brother and left them.
"We do what I want because if we do the things you want, people die," Vash explained calmly, as if Knives didn’t already know. Meryl still lived here and it was so very tempting to see her, to wonder at the changes age would have wrought on her over the years. He tasted guilt on the back of his tongue and knew that he wouldn't. He couldn't lose the picture of her he had in his mind, so strong and sweet. That was his alone.
"I don’t have to stay here with you." But he heard the shrillness in his brother's voice, the soft taint of something like fear.
"No, you don’t," Vash replied agreeably. "But if you go off on your own, and people start to die again, I won’t follow you this time. You can kill every person on this planet, and I won’t lift a finger. And you’ll be all alone." It was a lie, and Knives would know it for one. Vash could no more sit and watch people die then he could press the cold metal of a gun barrel against the back of his own throat and pull the trigger, but the threat was still there, more vicious for its knowledge.
"Give me something," Grudgingly begging, and Vash finally stood, dusting his hands off on his pants. He stood in front of Milly's grave, in front of his brother and very lightly traced his brother’s lips with the tip of a gloved finger. Another habit he’d been unable to break; the red coat had been discarded years before, a silent victim to their private war, but the gloves had remained.
Knives shuddered, eyes closing, and really, wasn’t this all they had? Just this and nothing else.
"You'd be lost without me," Knives whispered, his eyes slitted open until the faintest gleam of blue shone out and Vash could never have resisted his touch, the achingly soft brush of his lips so brief before the kiss turned bitingly brutal and that was always Knives, always, his fingers wrapped desperately around his brother's wrists as if to keep him still. As if Vash could leave him.
"Yes," Vash murmured, simply, the words soft against his brother's mouth. "I always was." His tears had long since dried but he closed his eyes as his brother pressed gentle kisses against the salty tracks on his cheeks, lapping away the taste of his sorrow.
-finis-
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Vash!
Date: 2004-03-05 03:17 am (UTC)Re: Vash!
Date: 2004-03-20 02:19 pm (UTC)oh the angst!
Date: 2004-03-05 10:27 am (UTC)Re: oh the angst!
Date: 2004-03-20 02:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-05 02:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-20 02:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-30 04:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-07-02 09:06 pm (UTC)But thank you!