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The arid desert outside was no different from before, yet an unfamiliar sense of melancholy filled Knives' eyes as he watched the scalding sands shift with the wind. Light, loose grains danced in white ripples atop the darker, compcted ground, sent by the breeze, swaying gently under the unrelenting glare of one of No Man's Land's suns. In that moment, Apollo shone in the sky above, unobstructed by clouds, three hours prior, Artemis had set in the horizon.
Slowly the planet spun, following its lemniscate course — around Artemis' orbit, then, Apollo's. Three nights prior marked the day that the planet had transitioned from one sun's orbit into the other, when simultaneously, and conversely, Apollo rose in the east and Artemis set in the west.
Three nights earlier, Vash took his brother in his arms and flew with him towards Artemis' fading light. Above his shoulder, Knives watched Apollo rise, before he bore his half of the weight and flew westward.
In another month, they would go back to having what could be reasonably called a night, and the twin suns would once again take their places beside each other in the morning sky.
Knives had witnessed one hundred and fifty of these cycles in his lifetime. Fifty one, if it counted to witness it from among the stars.
But the planet itself had witnessed many more, and it would witness many still, after they were gone. Year after year, century after century, time would reduce all to ash long before the two suns inevitably collided and merged into one. Nothing would be spared, native and invasive species alike would eventually wilt between the two stars' fiery song and dance. But for now they only circled one another, patiently, intently, inevitably drawn by the pull of their opposite's gravity, unconcerned with the small planet that circled them, placed only perfectly so, that it could exist between their unfathomable heat.
Another breeze blew by, and the sands danced once again upon the scorching ground.
When was the last time Knives had stopped to observe the scenery? To concern himself with the shifting sands and the bright blue sky? Perhaps, when Vash was still there, by his side… back when they weren't so distracted, when their worlds revolved around one another, unobstructed by humans save for the occasional encounters and the arguments they inspired.
It felt like centuries ago. The seventy years they spent separate from each other stretched themselves much further in his mind than the eighty years they spent together.
Though those decades were not free from conflict, he had always felt complete, the aquamarine blue of his brother's eyes drowned out the virulent noise from outside. Even when his other half disagreed. Vash was unsatisfied, Knives could recognise it now, though he resented it still — he never needed anything else, anyone else, humans would only ever bring them pain.
Of course he planned to kill them all. They weren't supposed to have survived in the first place, and to continue survive they dared exploit their brethren even further. It was absurd that Vash had even considered he could placate him forever.
Though, he had been correct in assuming that his presence assuaged him. Time tainted those memories bitter within the seven decades that passed from Vash's betrayal, now, the vivid sights and sounds that played in his memory's eye — of his brother's soft face glowing when bathed by sunlight, and the ever rare sound of songbirds outside — only caused resentment to grow like vines constricting his heart. Yet, occasionally, in the quietude of night, when he too decided to indulge in sleep, he had to admit he yearned to hold his twin close again, so they could fall asleep listening to the rhythm of their synchronised heartbeats.
Memories even older flourished from that bittersweet thought, of a happiness and contentment long lost to him.
If those seventy years were an unending desert, stretching itself across the horizons of his memory, and those eighty years a refuge from the suns' relentless glare, one that he seldom dared find respite in, then that year in the ship was his forbidden oasis. A small expanse of land, green and lush. A dome illuminated by a false sky during the 'day', and by the vast, starry expanse of the universe at 'night'. He would never admit to it, but part of him longed for the happiness of sweet innocence, the sights and sounds of their lost garden, though he knew the putrid truth beneath, that the roots fed on the dried corpses of their abused sisters.
He would never choose ignorance, silence, when he knew of their pain. Yet he longed for a time before his spirit was broken. When he could hold Vash unconcerned, and hope in his naivety for a future where the two of them would be accepted, embraced, rather than drifting alone through that endless space.
.
The sunlight that filtered through the window reached Knives' face, waking him up from his reminiscence. Outside, Apollo shone bright in the vast, cloudless expense of the rich blue sky.
Three hours ago it had risen, for the third time since their arival, when Knives landed before the residents of this house, with his other half dying in his arms, blackened hair and dried flesh. When Knives swallowed his disdain, the yellow bile that threatened to spill over in his throat. When he knelt and begged, begged the filthy animals who bled his brother dry — who his brother chose to be bled dry for — to save him. To give back what they had taken.
Three nights earlier, he had lost. His sisters had left him. He fought a hopeless battle, and all he expected was to die. Yet Vash… his foolish little brother… in his moment of victory, had wasted his last bullet to deter the Earth fleet and leapt forward, wings outstretched, intent on saving him.
That day Knives lost the battle, the war, and as his brother weakened in his arms, he lost his ideals too.
He'd told Vash that even if he was alone in the world, he would not stray from the path he'd chosen. Yet, when one of Vash's wings wilted he used the last of his power to supply one of his own and flew with him towards the setting sun, to the nearest sight of salvation. In that moment, his single driving force was the need to keep his brother alive.
He forsook everything, even his last vow had been empty.
He was powerless, alone.
They all left him, in the end. And for what? Humanity's empty promises? Had they not seen how often they repeated their mistakes? How often they broke their vows? Swore to be different and turned out the same?
What was it all for?
All those years of fighting, rendered pointless in the last minute.
Yet, there was nothing he could do. They had made their choice, and they chose humanity. Once again. As his brother, and his mother, had before.
He was utterly alone.
── ⟢
In the morning of the third day, Vash awoke with Apollo's first rays.
The humans, who had left to restock their medical supplies, arrived soon after, disturbing the dust that danced in the air and shone like gold under Apollo's glare.
For their part, they were doing a decent job tending to Vash, even Knives had to admit it. They knew nothing of plant biology, but the father was proficient in treating human ailments, and his treatments worked well enough on him, though he was still too frail to stand and could barely speak. His voice was raspy, and his throat felt as if it was full of sand.
Knives kept his distance, though he was offered treatment too. He rejected it, and without his powers to accelerate his recovery, his burns left a slight mark upon his skin.
It was another three weeks before Vash began recuperating his usual strength. In the meantime, Knives lived to see that the humans did their job and his brother recovered. He wasn't sure when he began tending their garden, or when they grew comfortable enough with his presence that the father deemed it safe to leave the child alone with him, but he said nothing of it when he noticed. He would have thought it ludicrous before, but perhaps the real absurdity was the fact that the father was right, Knives had no intention of harming them.
With each passing day a weight settled deeper into his soul.
By the end of the fourth week, when it was certain that Vash's condition had stabilised, his decision bore into the soil.
── ⟢
Artemis shone high in the sky above the garden. Her light fell upon the green leaves that had began to flourish there, under Knives', and the human child's, care. He'd taught him how to tend to them, quiet lessons where he demonstrated and eagerly the boy observed, so that they might still prosper after he was gone. The sands ahead shifted with the wind in long, undulating ripples, like the ocean they would never get to see.
In the distance, church bells tolled.
What was it all for? His entire life, his struggles, his battles… his only purpose… all utterly meaningless in the end. He'd accomplished nothing. He was completely alone.
What little power he had left could only raise one tree. It should be enough for the small household, and who knew, maybe one day, it would grow into an orchard, he did not care to see it, all that mattered was bringing things to an end. How poetic, that he who had only ever brought destruction should end—
"Knives?"
The voice stopped him in his tracks. He turned to see his brother standing in the doorway, "you aren't supposed to be—"
"What are you doing?"
Silence. Knives looked away, out towards the tall dunes and that bright, bright blue sky.
"There's no point in me staying here. You have recovered, it's over. It's all over. Let me end this."
"It doesn't have to—"
"Vash," he raised his voice for a moment, before his exasperation was taken over by exhaustion. "I have nothing left, no one left. There's no point—"
"You have me."
"I…" his eyes stung, "I do not, Vash. You would never choose me over them, when the humans come knocking you will return to their side and leave me again." Vash opened his mouth to speak, but his brother beat him to it. "Cohabitation is not an option. You want everyone, everything, but I only want you, you alone, and I have given up on achieving that.
"If made to choose you will always choose them, and now even our sisters have chosen the same, so allow me to unburden you, so that you may have whatever future you foolishly desire by their side. Please. I intend to give back for once, for those two at least do not deserve to—"
"They didn't leave you for lack of love, Knives."
Vash took a step forward, faltering slightly in a way that had Knives reaching out to catch him, then hesitating before they could touch. Vash met him halfway.
"And neither have I."
His hand was warm, too warm on his fridgid skin.
Their eyes met, and in a second those watery irises, that reflected so beautifully the light of the sky, drowned out the virulent noise within his head.
Things could never go back to the way they were, not in the shade of their refuge nor in the deceitful light of her oasis. Yet, how he longed to surrender. Things could never go back to the way they were. Their relationship was eternallly fractured, their fights would eternally haunt every step of the way as they wandered around, without a purpose. Things could never go back to the way they were. But, despite everything, they were still brothers. They were once one, in their mother's womb, in their mother's dome, and though they may have split they belonged together still. Two halves of a fractured whole.
"Stay," Vash said, softly. "Stay with me, Knives."
A shudder shot down his spine, and an ache travelled up his body, an intense pressure weighing on the pit of his stomach, drumming in the confinement of his ribcage, burning at the tip of his nose, and at last swelling behind his eyes.
It was pitiful, truly. How the request tugged at his sorrowful heart, a promise to fill the perpetual emptiness inside of him. Did Vash feel it too? The cold void of his absence? Did he also long to fuse with his missing half? Knives knew Vash made no promises to abandon the humans, to live with him alone, he knew he would never get what he truly wanted… yet when his brother stepped foward and their arms further entwined, warmth filled his body just as much as bitterness filled his eyes, and streamed down his cheeks. How tempting was the offer, though Knives feared the pain it would certainly bring.
Vash smiled so genuinely it made his heart sink.
Illuminated by the bright blue sky his face was of a striking beauty, a sight Knives long sought in the mirror on late nights, when he felt unavoidable the frigid hollowness inside, his being incomplete.
"Knives?" His brother's voice broke him out of his reverie.
"Mhm?"
"You're staring."
He had been. How long had they sat in silence, gazing into each other's eyes? For him it had felt like a mere moment, and how could he help it? His brother's expression was one of such rarity Knives wasn't sure he'd seen it since they were children, youthful and innocent, in their own garden of Eden, before knowledge tainted their purity.
The tumultuous noise within his head returned with the memories, carrying in its saddle a terrible pain. Knives tensed and pulled back, but Vash held him steadily by the arm, stepping closer to hold him and fixing him a grounding look. The quiet aquamarine waters of his eyes quelled his tempestuous mind once again.
"Vash…" his voice was wound tight, but if he had something to say, it failed him. The sound trailed off into the oppressive space between them.
How far had they walked, through the vast emptiness of this arid desert. Nothing would ever be the same again, they could never return to what had been, pain and sorrow would follow them no matter where they went. Perhaps it had all been ordained, when they first split into two — how Knives resented that moment with every fiber of his being, how he longed to unite with him again, to be one in flesh as well as soul.
Vash moved as if to say something, and Knives' gaze dropped to the sight of his lips — still dry, though healthier, fuller than they had been.
Improper, perhaps, but when had he ever cared about propriety? They were singular in a way no human code of behaviour could ever account for. He couldn't help it. Not when Vash looked too, when he leaned closer. A fire sparked within Knives' chest, a heat that threatened to be all consuming — Vash did feel it too, the cold of his twin's absence, and the unyielding pull of his gravity. Slowly they circled one another, year after year, decade after decade, inevitably drawn into their opposite's orbit, it was their fiery duet.
Their end was certain, and Knives wondered… when would they…
At once, their mouths collided.
Flames embraced their bodies entwined. Nothing stood between them that was not desolated by the excruciating heat of their fiery duet. Their souls hummed in symphony, reverberating the rhythm of their shared heartbeat.
For but a second their duplicity was erased, they were one in body and soul. When Apollo and Artemis surrendered to one another's inexorable pull, from the collision another star would be born. The two into one, as the one had split into two.