ARACHNOPHOBIA

DISCLAIMER: NONE OF THIS IS MINE.

--

ARACHNOPHOBIA

pathological fear or loathing of spiders

Chapter 12: The Fifth Verse

--

Where is he? Damn him.

Knives lay on the bed, feeling as sick and powerless as ever. Vash had been gone for ages; in fact Knives could hardly remember when he had last seen him, and he was growing totally frustrated. He had nothing better to do but to think about how messed-up, sickly and uncontrollable pandemonium his life had recently become. He didn’t seem to be able to collect his thoughts rationally anymore - they were reeling from one thing to another without any logical pattern – and he thought he might be losing his mind, the little that was left of it. He was feeling hot, unbearably hot, and he cursed the existence of the twin suns for the first time in his life.

Milly had shown her face only twice during the past two hours of which Knives was very, very glad. Meryl hadn’t shown her face at all, of which Knives was even more glad. He suspected the pair of them had gone out on some inane spider business like shopping which, of course, was just wonderful. Knives namely reckoned there might be a slight chance for them both getting killed by a horde of fat, greedy sandworms if they were out long enough.

Feeling slightly cheered by this thought, Knives pushed himself up into a sitting position and looked around the room. True, he was feeling alarmingly dizzy, but that was something he didn’t want to think about right now. He drowned a glass of water in one go, feeling instantly better. The water felt good inside his burning body, soothing his burning throat and calming his smoldering stomach. Knives took a deep sigh that hurt his infected lungs a little, and listlessly fell back onto the mattress.

Against anybody else’s knowledge, Knives knew exactly what was wrong with him.

Knives had figured it out some half an hour ago when he’d been staring at the dull ceiling. His sickness was not an ordinary case of fever, although the symptoms were rather similar. Hah! As if fever could ever catch him! As if any pitiful human illness could ever catch him! Knives sneered at the thought, yet his sneer faded when he thought how much more dangerous this other illness was compared to a trifling spider fever.

Yes... This ‘other illness’ was something completely different; it was energy leak.

Knives chewed his bottom lip, contemplating about his current state of health. He’d had this kind of a problem once before, right after Vash had shot him with his angel arm in July. He had nearly died back then, but he’d been eventually saved by Legato Bluesummers, who’d brought him back to his headquarters and connected him with a strong mother plant. Knives shivered at the memory of being reborn. It had been a long and painful process, and he was not willing to experience it ever again.

As if he had any choices left but to die.

The diagnose of an energy leak was very simple: the temperature control system of Knives’ body had broken down -a clear consequence from his severe injuries and the difficult blood transfer and long, exhausting car drive- and he was now constantly losing energy. It was coming out of his system in the form of waste heat, and the amount of said heat was plain enormous. In so many words, his body could no longer hold in the energy that was its essence. Meaning, Knives would die.

Probably even soon.

And the burning twin suns were not helping.

--

Warrens City, as small as it was, was rather happily situated in the middle of the endless wasteland. It was surrounded by high, sheltering rocks in three different directions and it had as many as four working wells. Vash the Stampede thought about this curiosity as he stood on top of high a cliff, looking down at the bustling town below him.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Frank asked him, wiping some sweat out of his eyes. “Although a little too hot.”

“Yes... it is hot. It’s always hot on this dreadful planet.”

Frank made a noncommittal grunt and adjusted his hat. “You got that one right, lad.”

Vash sighed and turned to look at the city again. Amidst the dozens of houses, he tried to distinguish the building where they were currently residing, and where his brother was hopefully currently resting. It was only a small dot, but finding and seeing it was not actually a very difficult task since he had an exceptionally good eyesight. He could even distinguish the ugly marshmallow curtains, which made him mildly amused. Knives hated those curtains, and now he would have to watch them all day.

“Shall we take another round?” Frank asked, bustling over to a pile of small rocks he had painted with merry colours.

“Yeah. Whatever.”

Vash was annoyed. He had been testing his newly repaired gun for the past two hours, successfully shooting at various targets. He had no problems whatsoever with his shooting, and he really didn’t want to waste his time practicing any longer when he had so many other, more important things to think about. But, he wasn’t ready to return to the town yet, not ready to face his brother. He needed some fresh air, needed some distance; his mind had been befuddled by Knives’ manipulation for too long, and he had finally decided to get his thoughts straight.

He still wasn’t sure what he should do with his brother.

True, he’d made all sorts of plans. He’d made plans to run away. He’d made plans to build a whole new world for himself and Knives, a world that was wholly unconnected to the rest of the universe. A world that was a half-made Eden, even. Yet, despite all the good points he saw in separating the world from his brother, and his brother from the world, Vash wasn’t at all so sure he could actually go through with it. Because, well, he was a selfish being just like his twin, and couldn’t think of separating himself from the human world.

Idly, Vash aimed his gun towards the newly piled-up rocks. He would have to do a lot more serious thinking during the following days, until he was able to decide their destiny.

Vash groaned as his already non-existent concentration was disturbed by strange movement he saw in the corner of his left eye. Angrily, he swirled around to glare at the distraction and, to his surprise, saw a pair of beautiful white butterflies dancing around each other. Immediately he forgot his annoyance, lowered his gun and stared at them, mesmerized. Their movements were intertwined and seamless, as if one had read the mind of the other, and their velvety wings were occasionally brushing as they made love to each other. Vash squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the wonderful but aching sight.

Butterflies. No matter what was going on in their miniature brains, Vash could only wish his and Knives’ thoughts were as connected, as agreed upon as theirs.

Fat chance.

“Something’s really troubling your mind, isn’t it?” Frank clapped Vash on the shoulder. “You’ve been absent-minded all day.”

“No, it’s nothing,” Vash quickly exhaled and aimed his gun anew towards the rock pile in the distance. “Just the sun tricking my eyes.”

Frank looked dubious. “As long as your aim doesn’t begin to falter.”

Vash sighed, feeling heavy-hearted. “It never really does, does it?”

--

Back in town, Knives was wondering about death. It was a strange concept for him, although he’d seen it a lot.

What would become of the world when he died? Would it become a better place? Would it become the long-expected paradise, the Eden? Maybe Vash would finally help the humans create the Shangri-La everybody seemed to be waiting for? Or maybe he would continue to mix with the spiders, trying to pretend that he wasn’t special, that he wasn’t immortal and in possession of the gifts of the gods? Knives sighed. He didn’t know who had placed such an atrocious notion as humility in his brother’s head, but his doubts were aimed towards one Rem Saverem.

With great difficulty and pain, Knives forced himself to sit up again. Being angry at dead people was slowly beginning to feel rather pathetic, even if he said so himself. Taking support from the walls, he stood up on his shaking legs and dragged himself slowly towards the window. This was physically even more challenging than what he’d anticipated, but he would be damned if he would let his weakened condition prevent him from seeing his glorious kingdom. After all, for all he knew, it might be the last time he ever saw it. He had no idea how rapidly his body would eventually collapse.

Gritting his teeth, Knives grabbed the windowsill with white knuckles and heaved himself up against it, ignoring the horrid curtains the best way he could –by not looking at them. He leaned his forehead against the rocky frame of the window, gazing out on the street. The sun was downright scorching the sandy ground, the excessive heat causing the air to ripple and waver. The sight was actually beautiful, if a little ordinary, and Knives found himself smiling.

He happily spent the following fifteen minutes by the window, watching the rays of the sun playing with the shadows, making them change their form and location. He felt rather content watching the town’s people struggling with their daily affairs, secretly knowing that no matter what they did or how much they worked, they would never be able to create a paradise on their own.

Knives scrunched up his nose when he suddenly saw a drunken man staggering across the marketplace. He could outright smell alcohol, sweat and dirt evaporating from the man, even though there was a good hundred feet separating them. Knives was thoroughly disgusted with the sight. This was not something he wanted as one of his last memories from Planet Gunsmoke. If he indeed was going to die, he only wanted pleasant memories to go with. Like, for example, watching the drunken bastard claw his eyes out in pain. Or, better yet -Knives decided he might just as well get rid of the boozer for good.

Narrowing his eyes, he concentrated on forcing the man’s body under his own will, the poor spider never quite knowing what was happening to him. The man grabbed his throat with both of his sweaty hands and began to squeeze with force. Eyes bulged out of his swollen head as the pressure grew and grew, and his face began to turn purplish red as the oxygen no longer streamed into his lungs. He fell down to his knees and tried to cough, but he could do nothing.

Knives sniggered, satisfied with himself. However, his fittingly gruesome plans were rapidly interrupted when his knees failed beneath his weight and he fell on the floor. Gasping for air himself, he had to end his little mind control game with the spider. He could only hope he’d done damage enough to kill the god-ugly slosher, but he couldn’t be sure since he couldn’t muster the strength to try and reach his mind anymore. His palms were sweating, his forehead was so damp with the evaporating heat it was outright glistening, and his entire body was convulsing. With a hurried motion, Knives grabbed the hem of the curtain and wiped his nose in it, soiling it with blood. All of his mucous membrane had gone dry and a vicious nosebleed was just one of the natural consequences of such an occasion. Yet, as natural as it was, it was also a sign that the energy leak had proceeded even further than what he’d originally thought. “Fuck...”

Knives glanced longingly at the can of water that was sitting on the bedside table. The small, nearly molten ice cubes that were happily swimming in the liquid of life would be his saviour angels, at least for the time being, if only he could reach them.

With twice the effort he’d given in order to reach the window, Knives now edged towards the water. He felt miserable and helpless and alone, yet he couldn’t imagine anything more horrible than having someone else by his side right now. That is, if that somebody else wasn’t Vash, whom he had always wanted beside him. Vash, who had been gone for who knows how many hours and hadn’t yet returned.

Knives felt a pang of regret in his heart when he thought about the deep, bottomless pit that had formed between himself and his twin all those miserable decades ago. How could it be possible they were so different in their opinions and wishes, when they even shared the same blood, the same essence of energy? But their differences were there, and they would probably never be solved. Knives couldn’t understand Vash’s willingness to coexist with the humans, and Vash couldn’t understand Knives’ burning urge to get rid of the said filth.

And now they had finally reached the turning point where one of them had to give up.

Knives closed his tired eyes and stopped his efforts of movement in order to take a breath. Knowing himself and his brother, he was certain that neither of them was likely to give up. They would both probably continue fighting until the very end. And although he was unwilling to think about it, the facts could not be denied: the end was frighteningly near. If not connected to a strong mother plant soon, Knives would be dead in a matter of days... maybe even hours.

Dead... I wonder what it feels like to be dead...?

Knives feared he would probably soon find out.

--

“That’s your fourth beer, boy,” said Frank to Vash. “Be careful not to let it conquer you. I know what kind of a devil the alcohol is. Don’t want to be its slave, believe me.”

Vash looked at him but did not smile. “It’s only my fourth beer, Frank. I think I’m going to have at least as many more.”

Frank, sitting in a chair that was too small for him, looked serious. They’d come back from the cliffs and were now sitting at the local bar, catching up and enjoying some refreshments. However, they’d been there only twenty minutes by now and Vash was quickly making it a new hobby to drown himself in ale. “Alcohol doesn’t solve your problems. Do you want to talk about them, or do you want to dwell in misery all by yourself? I’m just saying, you helped me the last time we met. I... I want to repay the kindness.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t much talk yourself back then, did you?” Vash shrugged. “I heard your story from someone else.”

“That was my mistake. If I would’ve talked about my problems sooner, things would probably never have gotten out of hand.” Frank drew the beer away from Vash. “Don’t follow my foolish example.”

Vash leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and looking slightly irritated. “What would you know about my problems? Even if I told you, you probably wouldn’t believe me. Spiders are like that. Intellectually retarded, I mean. They just don’t understand me.”

As if on cue, Frank didn’t quite understand what Vash was talking about. “You have a problem with spiders?”

“No, actually I have a problem with butterflies,” Vash smiled an ironic smile, taking his beer back. “One particular butterfly, that is. I don’t know how to keep it healthy.”

“I never knew anyone could keep butterflies as their pets.” The barmaid had come to clean her glass beside their table. She was wearing the same green cap Vash remembered from months before. “They don’t live long, anyway.”

Vash smirked at her. “You’d be surprised.”

“So what’s your problem with it, exactly? How can you say if a butterfly is ill or healthy?” The barmaid was genuinely interested, Vash realised. “How does one tell the difference?”

“It’s easy.” Vash shrugged. “Healthy butterflies know how to fly.”

“And your pet won’t fly anymore?” Frank raised his eyebrows.

“No.” Vash agreed.

“Strange, very strange.” The barmaid narrowed her eyes, thinking. “What could be the reason for that?”

“Maybe it’s because I’ve plucked its wings out?” Vash asked, pouring more beer down his throat.

The barmaid looked shocked. “How horrible of you!”

“Yeah, I know.” Vash looked down at his drink that was golden-brown in colour and slightly bubbling. “Horrible, horrible.”

“Why did you do that?” Frank asked. “What did he do?”

Vash flinched and looked up. “W-what?”

“I asked, what did it do? You wouldn’t hurt anything or anyone without a reason, would you, Vash?”

“I... I... I think not. I hope not.”

“This conversation is getting too much for me to follow,” the barmaid said, rolling her eyes. “I’ll go back to cleaning the tables.”

“Yeah... okay...” Vash waved his hand absent-mindedly, not really hearing what she said. “Whatever.”

“I think you should be cleaning some tables, too,” Frank said, looking pointedly at Vash. “With your brother.”

Vash blinked his eyes, surprised. Maybe the spiders really weren’t so stupid, after all. “How... How did you know?”

“It’s easy to read your face, mate.” Frank smiled. “So... Do you agree with me? Do you think you should go to your brother and speak things through with him?”

“Yeah. I guess that’s exactly what I should do.” Vash sighed. “It’s just that he’s so diffic...”

Right then, Vash felt a chill run down his spine. He left his sentence unfinished and stood up, looking alarmed.

“Hey, what is it?” Frank asked, worried.

Vash looked like he’d be ready to throw up. “I... I think my butterfly just learned how to fly without wings.”

--

Knives shuddered on the floor, huddled in a fetal position, clutching his sides and trying not to cough. He was afraid that if he coughed up some more blood he would lose all his energy and consequently his consciousness. He couldn’t move an inch, despite he urgently needed the water that was now only a few feet away, and he didn’t even try to hide his frustration.

Damn Vash! Where was that punk when once needed?

At least forty minutes had passed since his collapse and nobody had come to check on him. Maybe the stupid insurance girls really had gone shopping? Knives still wished to hear news from a random sandworm attack that had accidentally claimed a few particular victims. However, his dreams were soon shattered by a knock on the door.

Milly entered the room, unasked, carrying a tray with some sandwiches on it.

Knives cursed. Why did she have to come now? He hated weakness more than anything, and now he was showing it in front of a lousy spider. He was embarrassed, he was angry, he was ready to kill. But he did not kill, because he just couldn’t muster up the energy. Milly, of course, was shocked to find her patient crawling on the floor, in the middle of a pool of red substance. The tray fell from her fingers and crashed onto the floor, and the girl ran to his aid.

“Oh, heavens! Knives, are you all right?”

Rage fuelled by mortification flashed in Knives’ eyes, but he still patiently smiled up at her. “Of course I’m all right. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Milly swallowed nervously, not knowing what to do with all the blood around her. “Mr. Knives... What’s happened? What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m...” Knives licked his parched, blood-stained lips, over a feral smile. “...thirsty.”

“T-thirsty?” Milly’s voice was shaking. Clearly, somewhere in her subconsciousness, she’d realised the situation was more dangerous to her than to Knives.

“Yes, thirsty.” Knives looked annoyed. “Throwing up all this amount of blood has made my throat sore.”

“O-of course.” Blinking her shallow blue eyes, Milly hurried to get the water from the bedside table. Knives grasped the offered mug with all the vigour he could conjure up and drank greedily. He asked a refill until the whole can was empty.

“Feeling any better?” Milly timidly asked.

Knives hung his head and grunted. Yes. He was. Not much, though, but he did feel the instant, relieving effect of the cold liquid sliding down his throat. The water satisfied his soul and calmed down his burning body, and he could feel part of his senses returning to him.

Then he made the mistake of breathing.

The spider’s awful scent hit his nostrils immediately, irritating him to no end, and he was ready to throw up. She was close; too fucking close. Knives shut his eyes and craned his neck, facing the ceiling. Disgusted, he tried to imagine himself someplace else. Someplace where the spiders couldn’t reach him... Couldn’t come this close. Somewhere up, somewhere high near the sun... Somewhere where they couldn’t spin their sticky, suffocating webs around him...

No, no, no... Go away... Stay away...

“Knives? Hey, Knives?”

Milly was shaking him. Milly was squeezing him with her long, abysmal fingers. The fine hair on Knives’ bare arms was standing up with immeasurable disgust.

Don’t touch me. Don’t... Please don’t...

But Milly couldn’t hear his thoughts. Zoning out, Knives felt the familiar tug of liquid metal solidifying underneath his fingertips. He hadn’t felt it in the longest time, not in several weeks, months, even; but then again he had been far too ill to feel anything but pain recently. Yet now... he could feel it again. The rush of quicksilver in his veins, turning into solid metal. He could feel it... and she was still too fucking close.

“Let’s get you back to bed. Come on, let me help you.” Milly began to sound worried. “Knives? Do you even hear me? Hey!”

She slapped him on the cheek.

Knives cracked his eyes halfway open and just stared at the girl, coldly. “Go away. Right now.”

“No! I can’t leave you like this.”

“I’m warning you...”

“Don’t be ridiculous! You’re obviously dangerously sick! I must get you back to bed, and then I’ll send for Mr. Vash.” Milly tried to hoist him over her shoulder in order to move him from the floor.

Knives shivered with repulsion, trying to pull away. “Don’t touch me!”

“Here, here. Come now. You’re not well, and I must help you. I... Knives?”

Eyes unseeing, Knives finally lost control of his own body as his carnal instincts claimed reign. An empty smile on his lips, he allowed his fingers to turn into a collection of sharp knives from which he’d originally received his name. Shining and deadly, the blades were ready to cut some flesh.

Milly shrieked.

‘So... On the fifth night, those shards strike the face of the earth over and over again...’

The blades sunk in her face, and a shower of blood covered them both.

--

It had been a short run, but it had felt like hundreds of iles. Crashing into the room, Vash found Milly sitting in the corner in hysterics, her face bleeding from several deep scratches. Meryl was also there, trying her best to clean and patch up the wounds with white clothing, although it was almost certain Milly’s face would scar.

Vash felt horrible rage swelling inside of him. “Knives!”

“He’s not here!” Meryl snapped. “He went into the bathroom.”

Vash didn’t wait another second. He stormed out of the room to find his brother, and god damn it he was going to teach him a lesson he would never forget. Slamming the door open and stepping inside the lavatory, Vash’s eyes landed on a bloody heap in the shower booth.

“Knives...” Vash spoke very slowly. “What have you done?”

Blue eyes were staring back at him, not a sign of recognition in their depths.

Vash closed the door and knelt before his twin. “Knives, I want you to answer me. What have you done?”

Knives didn’t reply; his gaze was hollow and he didn’t seem to be fully aware of what was happening around him. Vash took a deep breath and slapped him a few times on the cheek, trying to revive him. He was disgusted to find fresh blood dirtying his hand. However, his efforts were helpful. Ever so slowly, the missing sparkle came back into Knives’ eyes, and he came back to the reality with a start.

Knives looked around for a moment, obviously collecting his thoughts and gathering the situation. “What have I done?”

“That’s what I’d like to know.” Vash hissed, venom oozing from his voice.

“Yes. I think you would.” Knives answered with a surprisingly subdued voice. “It wasn’t my fault. She came too close.”

“You promised me you wouldn’t do this!” Vash’s voice was quiet, but his eyes expressed all the rage, hurt and disappointment he felt. “I thought I could trust you.”

“Trust me? Trust me?” Knives laughed then, dragging his fingers –the knives- along the bathroom wall tiles. Some of them broke. “You didn’t trust me in the beginning, not when that trust was the only thing I asked for. So why did you think you could trust me now, when I don’t want your trust any longer?”

“Knives, please...”

“If you had trusted me back then, none of this would’ve happened. Things would never have come to this.”

“Don’t make stupid excuses. We don’t live in the past now. The past is gone.” To his own horror, Vash realised he tried to assure himself, too, even as he spoke. “The only thing that matters now is the present. And, at present, Milly’s face is resembling something a wild tiger has mauled.”

Knives coughed up some blood, aiming it straight in his brother’s face. “A major improvement.”

Vash didn’t hesitate to hit him hard on the side of his head with his prosthetic arm. “You’re disgusting.”

Making pained faces, Knives looked up at his twin. The hit had been really hard, and now even his head was bleeding. “I don’t see why you’re so upset with me. I didn’t kill her or anything.”

“You would have, if only... if only...!”

“Yes, if only what?” Knives yelled. “There was no-one to stop me. I could’ve gutted her for all that I care! At least I tried to control myself! Fuck! I’m just saying she shouldn’t have come so close! I even told her to leave, but she didn’t want to hear me!”

Vash didn’t look any less angry. With an internal sigh, Knives reasoned he could probably say any sweet thing that came to his mind and make the cutest of faces, and still he wouldn’t be able to give an answer that would satisfy his brother. There simply was no excuse for what he had done. He’d fucked up, as simple as that, and Vash would not forgive him. Not this time.

Knives gasped as Vash’s hands abruptly went around his throat and began to choke him. His cranium hit the cold wall tiles and he saw stars in his eyes. Pearls of sweat began to form on his forehead as he realised what was happening. His eyes, already somewhat dilated and feverish, lost their sparkle again as the world began to blur. Vash only tightened his grip around Knives’ neck, his hand trembling in his rage.

‘Going to kill me, brother?’

‘Yeah. I am. After I’ve choked you, I’ll fucking shoot you in the head. Maybe that’ll teach you something.’

‘Sounds interesting.’ Knives closed his eyes, and a small tear rolled down his cheek. ‘I’ve always wanted to know what it feels like to be shot in the head.’

‘You won’t be feeling it anymore when you’re already dead by the time I will do it.’

Knives tried to swallow despite the tightness around his throat, not succeeding. He really hated his life, sometimes. If he had expected to live another day or two, he now knew he had been wrong. Vash’s harsh handling had done nothing but worsened his already desolate condition. No matter how much water he’d drunk, it wasn’t enough to save him. He opened his eyes again and blearily looked at his brother whose face was hovering just above him. Realising he was in no hurry to anywhere, he took his time and admired the beautiful aquamarine eyes that reflected so many deep feelings. His Vashu... So Beautiful. Knives felt really sad that this would be the last time he would ever see him.

Vash stared Knives right back, not at all impressed with his brother’s submissive behaviour. “What do you want, Knives? What is it that you fucking want? Do you want to die? Do you want to live? Do you want to kill the spiders first and then die? Do you want me to kill you? Is that what you want?”

Knives smiled. ‘If you don’t know the answer to that question, you sure don’t know anything.’

Vash’s palm was beginning to sweat around Knives’ throat. “Eden. It’s all about your Eden, isn’t it? And it always has been. You want your god damn Eden, where all the spiders are gone and only the butterflies are happily flying under the suns. Well guess what! There is only one butterfly who would be willing to live in that kind of a dull world, and that one butterfly is you. Nobody would want to be there with you. Nobody wants to be with you even now! Even I do it only because you’re my brother! If you were just another member of the Gung-ho Guns, I would leave you in the desert for the wild dogs to ravish and feel no regret.”

Knives shivered. So this was the reason why Vash had let him live, why Vash had treated him so humanly this far. Obligation, and nothing more. Responsibility, and nothing further. Oh, well. Knives squeezed his eyes shut. He truly had been silly to imagine anything otherwise. He had been silly to allow himself some small hope that Vash might actually some day love him back. He had been silly to dream. He could see himself now the way Vash was seeing him, and he didn’t dare elaborate the image he saw.

“Do you have any idea how much I hate you?” Vash grunted.

‘Yes.’ Knives thought silently. ‘But do you have any idea how much I love you?’

‘Fuck you and your love!’ Vash’s telepathic voice was nearly loud enough to break Knives’ brain cells. ‘It’s nothing but a sick game. I detest you. You make me sick.’

Knives smiled, new tears rapidly filling his eyes. He was in so much pain. He tried to swallow again but couldn’t, since Vash’s grip was tight. Frowning with the effort, he forced his blade-like fingers turn back to normal. He had drained nearly all of his powers in the struggle by now, and felt the faintness rapidly descending on him. It was a welcome feeling, actually; calm and euphoric. Irresistible. He could outright feel the energy pouring out of him, and he even thought he could see the air around his body rippling with it.

Finally giving up, Knives went limp in Vash’s arms.

Vash recoiled then, as if waking up from some kind of a dream, and released his vice-like grip from Knives’ throat as if the touch had burned him. He looked down at his twin with large, anxious eyes, gathering him in his arms, shaking him. “Knives...? Hey, Knives?”

But Knives could only barely understand what was happening around him. He lay completely listless in his brother’s arms, his lungs slowly trying to take in oxygen again. His entire body felt like being in flames. He knew the end was near, very near, and he knew there was no Legato saving him this time. There was nobody who could save him this time. Because, well... Nobody wanted to. And even if they did... The nearest mother plant was hundreds of iles away.

Knives realised it now: he was living his last moments. He opened his bleary eyes one last time and looked at his brother, memorizing the beautiful face, smiling a sad smile.

“What’s happening to you, Knives?” Vash was panicking. “Oh, god, why are you so weak? I didn’t mean to hurt you this much! I was just so angry! I didn’t mean...”
‘Hush, now.’ Knives closed and opened his eyes slowly. ‘Everything’s going to be alright.’

“What? What are you saying?”

With his last powers, Knives laced their fingers together and tried to sigh. ‘I’m saying that everything... is going to be just... alright.’

After that, Knives didn’t feel anything any longer. He supposed Vash was shaking him, but he couldn’t be sure; and he supposed Vash was calling his name, too, but all the voices were almost inaudible in his dying ears. He felt peaceful and calm again... and he didn’t want to kill anyone, anymore. He didn’t even want to kill the spiders, anymore. He was tired...

...and he just wanted to let go.

--

...To Be Continued...

--