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Stray Shots: Chapter One.

The fic that inspired the pairing (at least for our Mods :P), Stray Shots.
Please read and review!

Title: Stray Shots (Chapter one)
Author: likeatruck (this would be my fanwork journal).
Rating: PG13+ (mature themes)

Summary: Four months have passed since Knives and Vash's fateful encounter, and Knives remains involuntarily in the custody of his twin brother. It's a dark past they share, but what secrets lurk on his side of the fence?

Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun. It is the creation of Yasuhiro Nightow and it's rights are owned by several marketing companies. This is a work of fiction. The banner, however, is my handy work.

Notes: First chapter (fully edited version). The second is done and uploaded onto my account, however, after re-reading MONTHS later, I’ve come across a couple of mistakes that I plan to correct. I haven’t touched this fic in a while but I plan to start it up again sometime soon :) Please enjoy!

Knives sat motionless in his wooden chair, looking out at the small town’s newly found serenity. The street beyond the veranda he rested on was quiet, but gave off a feeling of warmth and safety. Times had changed since Knives’ tyranny had silently governed the lives of those living on this desolate planet, and four short months after Vash had carried his brother towards a brighter future, the dank stench of repression that had clung to this world for these many years had finally began to subside.

“Mr. Knives?” a soft voice called from inside the house.

Without his lost technology, Knives’ body had been left forever damaged after he and the Humanoid Typhoon had gone head to head. He had remained involuntarily in the custody of his brother, along with the insurance girls who seemed to have gained permanent residency by Vash’s side.

“Mr. Knives?” the voice called again.

Although Knives’ elitist and barbaric views towards mankind had softened over the past few months, his sharp tongue and incredible intellect made it nearly impossible for anyone, bar Vash who made a constant effort, to actually want to be in his presence. This applied doubly so to Milly who, although she put on a brave front, was still devastated by the loss of one Nicolas D. Wolfwood.

“Mr. Knives?” Milly repeated again, swallowing her growing frustration. Knives turned his head slightly towards the doorway where she stood and silently acknowledged her presence. In the four months he had come to live amongst the trio, this had proven to be the closest thing to polite conversation either of the girls had gotten, so disregarding his rudeness, Milly continued on.

“Would you like something to eat or drink?” She asked, kindly, “I’m making Mr. Vash sandwiches and I thought I should ask just in case and--”

Knives snorted in response. To think a supreme being such as himself had fallen to this level of inferiority – needing the help of humans. It was this that had puzzled him about his brother more and more these past few months; what use was it that he saw in them?

Milly sighed, an annoyed look on her face. Even though she would never forgive the thing that had cost her her beloved priest, she didn’t want him to starve to death, and she had seldom seen him eat anything. The tall woman ran her fingers through her hair and went back inside, shutting the door behind her and Knives was left once again to his solitude, the one thing that seemed to leave him contented.

“BRO-THER!” a familiar, giddy voice sang from inside. Knives cringed in anticipation. Suddenly, from out the door, the great, tall man who on many occasions had been referred to as the Humanoid Typhoon came bounding out to cuddle his brother. It was a priceless moment that in any other household would have given both parties “the warm and fuzzies”. However, this wasn’t Knives’ subsequent response; rather a growl of disgust and a quick elbow to his brother’s stomach.

“Ow…! Knives…!” whined Vash, withdrawing from the hug. “What’d you do that for?” he clutched his stomach.
“I don’t believe I ever gave you permission to do that, brother.” Knives replied, coldly, “So, please, contain yourself.”

“Aww… But brothe-e-e-er…!” Vash continued, poking his shoulder, “that’s no fun!”

Knives sneered. “You think I’m having fun?” He glared at him. Vash stepped back, the joy slipping from his face. It had been the same scenario over and over again ever since the day they had fought – Vash would open up, only to receive a verbal slap in the face from his brother.

“Why couldn’t you just have killed me then?” Knives continued, “I know you must have wanted to.” A grim look fell upon his face, as he turned to watch the darkening street again. “You did want to, didn’t you brother? You never could understand that what I did was for our benefit.”

Vash clenched his jaw, bracing himself for the inevitable topic.

“That woman- they all were against you and I. I did what I had to do to save us! But you never saw it that way, did you Vash?”

Tears began to form in his brother’s eyes.

“You think we’re all equals on this rock, don’t you?” Knives snapped, “You think what I’ve done is wrong? Sick?! Then just crush me, brother. Do what you so badly want to do.”

Vash ground his teeth, turning his head away from Knives, as he tried to control his growing lust for vengeance. Vengeance – this was a concept he has dismissed long ago in an attempt to better honour Rem’s memory. However, when his brother spoke of her and the SEEDS members this way, he couldn’t help but feel his anger and hatred grow inside him again.

“I only want you to be happy, Vash.” Knives spoke, eerily. “So why don’t you just do it? Crush me! Destroy me! Kill the butterflies to save the spiders.”

With a slam of the door, Vash stormed back inside the house. He couldn’t trust himself to stay outside with his brother any longer - not that Knives would have cared about Vash’s wrath. More than anything else, he held his own inabilities in contempt. Knives welcomed death and the end of his suffering; if he had had access to his guns, suicide would have been high on his agenda. To his dismay, this had been the first thing Vash had seen to, the day the pair had fought. He had confiscated Knives’ gun and had disabled his twin mechanical arm, leaving the broken man without weapon, and as such, without means to end it all.

It was well past dark when Knives finally hobbled inside. Milly and Vash were both asleep in their respective beds and everything was quiet except for the ticking sounds of Meryl, typing away at her reports. She, too, had had a bit of a lifestyle change of late, resigning as a Bernardelli Insurance worker and getting a job in the accounting department of the town’s water distribution company. Knives ignored her presence and made his way into his room. With a groan, he collapsed heavily onto the bed. Although he liked to hide it, walking the short distance between his room and the porch really took its toll on his degenerative muscles. The beating he took – no mere human would have survived. Exhaustion coursed through his body and as he slipped in and out of consciousness, he dreamt of what he always had – the SEEDS mission and She who he had cared so much about.


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