"So, the twins have reunited. And I'll take it that was Knives inside the dome?" Garrow asked, strolling up to Kira's bed and staring down at her, his lips still curled in a chilling smirk. "What's he planning?"

She stared back silently, her mouth tensed to a thin line.

"You might as well talk, little lady. We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

She set her jaw and continued her defiant silence, though fear coiled tightly within her.

He shrugged. "Suit yourself." With that, he pressed a hand down on her stomach just hard enough to hurt. The painkillers clearly weren't meant to deal with this. She gritted her teeth, trying to keep from crying out, the machine next to her beeping madly, giving away her spiking heart rate.

"He was restoring his sight? I imagine he didn't like living in the darkness too much. What is he planning," he repeated, pressing down slightly harder.

She let out a soft whimper.

"I promise, this will be a lot easier for both of us if you just work with me. I truly don't want to hurt you, but I can't let him fuck up everything I've been working on!" he said with a sudden snarl. "Where is he?"

"I don't know," she moaned.

"Where do you think he'd go?" He continued on with the relentless pressure, not hard enough to damage her, but enough to keep her in agony.

"I don't know! I don't! Please!" she cried, her eyes wide.

He lifted his hand, a look of mild annoyance on his face. "You really don't, do you," he said sourly.

She lay back on the pillow, trembling, her skin damp with sweat as she stared at him in terror, praying that he wouldn't hurt her again. She was defenseless. She was afraid. She was a fucking idiot! Knives had warned her. Why had she been so unconcerned? So blasé? As if she couldn't be threatened. As if she was impervious to pain.

Garrow let out an indifferent sigh. "Well, if you don't know where he is or what he's doing, how about this: you can tell me about yourself, instead," he said, his eyes glinting. "Let's start with the day you found him."

x.x.x.x.x

They'd been at it for hours, discussing the various details of the situation they now found themselves in and how best to proceed, while Michaels worked tirelessly on removing the collar. They came to the conclusion that Chronica, Meryl and Millie would continue to Octovern, as planned, but that Vash and Knives would remain in December until they could verify Kira's… physical condition. The doc had generously offered to investigate her whereabouts and report back to them, and Meryl insisted on leaving her sat-phone behind so they could all communicate freely, arguing she could borrow a temporary spare from the studio.

Knives was grateful that everyone seemed to share his concern. He knew Kira's survival was unlikely, he knew he was probably just clinging to false hope, but he had to make sure. He had to know that she was truly… gone.

With their plan decided, Meryl and Millie had gone into town to grab supplies. The concern in Vash's voice as he told them to be careful and the way his hand remained on Meryl's arm a moment longer than necessary didn't escape Knives' notice. Thankfully, the women soon returned, and brought back enough food to last the twins for a few days, if needed. Meryl cooked a quick dinner and the companions ate quietly, the looming challenges ahead dampening their usual cheery conversation.

Knives watched them, unable to join the meal while the doc continued his work—not that he even wanted to. Stress and anxiety complemented with an edge of lingering sorrow and persistent anger had effectively killed his appetite. He sat, motionless, though his back and neck protested the stiff, unmoving position. The discomfort would be worth it to get the damn collar off.

Honestly, he was more impressed by the doc's stamina than his own. The man made no complaints as he nimbly and methodically disconnected the intricate web of cerebral interrupters. Michaels hadn't been able to turn the collar off, since he didn't have the external program used to control it, but little by little, piece by piece, Knives could feel the walls enclosing his mind crumbling and falling away.

He could probably overcome the restraining barrier on his own right now, if he wanted, but he decided to wait until the doc was completely finished before flexing his long-dormant telepathy. And so he sat, stoically, resolutely, as the evening continued to creep by, until finally, the last pairing was broken and the doc lifted the collar from his neck.

He put a hand to his throat. Again, a fleeting flicker of happiness stirred inside him, his breath catching as his fingers touched the now-bare skin.

Vash…?

His brother, who had been speaking softly with Meryl, stopped midway through a sentence and spun to him, his eyes wide. "I can hear you! How do you feel?"

"Free," he said, unable to hold back the smallest curve at the corner of his lips.

Vash nodded in empathy, having gone through the experience himself.

The doc carefully closed the wound and bandaging it. "There," he said. "You'll need to keep that completely dry for a few days, and watch out for any sign of infection. If you have any trouble, let me know."

Knives gave him a short nod. "You have my gratitude."

Michaels nodded back timidly before gathering his supplies. When he was finished, he turned to Chronica and she gave him an understanding smile.

"I suppose we'd better be off," she said, rising. She bid the twins a quick 'goodbye' as did the doctor. Millie gave Knives a small, sympathetic smile and threw her arms around Vash in a warm hug before following them to the door.

"Right," said Meryl, turning to Vash, an uneasy expression on her face. "You promise you two will be careful? You won't go out and get into trouble or something?"

"Yeah, I promise," Vash answered softly. "We promise," he added, his eyes momentarily shifting to Knives.

"Good. We'll come back as soon as we can. Hopefully things will move quickly after tomorrow. I'm leaving some money for sandsteamer tickets so you can come join us if… if there's no longer a reason to stay here," she said gently.

"Thanks, Meryl," Vash said, stepping closer to her.

"Glad to help," she murmured, blushing, her gaze dropping. "Well, I'll see you soon." Her eyes drifted to his and she stared for a moment, before giving both him and Knives curt, professional nods, and turning to the others who were waiting by the door. Before she could take a step, Vash put a hand on her arm and tugged her back, pulling her into a tender embrace.

"See you soon," he murmured, tightening his arms around her before letting her go, a crooked smile on his face.

She went pink again and inclined her head in a final goodbye. The four slipped out the door, closing it behind them, and Knives let out a small breath of relief. Though he had adjusted to living with the others, he was too overwhelmed and exhausted to bother with social behavior right now.

Vash stared at the door, as if hoping she'd step back through it, and for once, Knives understood and empathized with what his brother was feeling. "You miss Meryl," he stated, and Vash looked over, startled.

The aqua-eyed plant flushed. "I… uh… I'm just worried."

"You two seem closer than usual." Once again, it was not a question, but it still demanded an answer.

Vash didn't respond, but his somewhat guilty expression spoke for him.

"When did it happen?" Knives asked bluntly.

"The sandsteamer," he mumbled. "Sorry. I know it's probably the last thing you wanted to see, or… know… right now."

"It's alright," he finally said. "I'm… I'm happy for you." The words tasted slightly bitter, though they weren't precisely untrue. Vash deserved love. And Knives didn't dislike Meryl as he had when they first met. He'd even go so far as to say he approved of her. Still, there was a definite tang of jealousy and resentment mixed in with his more 'supportive' emotions.

But that was his problem, not theirs. He wouldn't hold his misfortune against them. He needed to learn not to take out his negative emotions on other people. This was as good a practice as he was going to get.

"Here," Vash said, offering him a plate of food.

He reluctantly accepted the meal. His appetite hadn't returned, but he knew he should eat. At least it would give him something to do… for about five minutes. Then he would return to obsessing about whether or not Kira had survived… And fearing the worst, even if she had… Dammit! This was intolerable! He needed to—

"Hey." Vash put a hand on his shoulder.

He started. "What?"

"You're gonna have to remember to put your walls up again. Your thoughts are pretty loud."

He grimaced. "Sorry."

Vash gave him a sheepish look. "You don't need to be sorry. I want to know how you're feeling right now. I just figured you'd be pissed if I kept listening without mentioning it."

"Thanks." He took a bite of food and chewed it thoughtfully before swallowing. "Do you think she's okay?"

"I don't know. If we get our hopes up and she's not…" He trailed off. "I think it's in our best interest to stay calm until we speak with Michaels tomorrow."

He nodded sullenly. Vash was right, as usual. Knives just wished it were easier to turn off his over-analytical mind. It was late, but he doubted he'd be getting much sleep that night.

x.x.x.x.x

Kira's eyes fluttered open and she took in the clinically white walls around her. Shit.

It wasn't a dream…

She and Garrow had 'talked' for nearly an hour the previous night… day? Though he hadn't hurt her again, or attempted to drag more information about Knives' current location or plans out of her, he did seem very interested in their time together. He began by telling her what little he knew—that Knives had initially lied about his identity, but that she had continued to travel with him after she learned who he was—and then grilled her on why she'd chosen to befriend the villainous plant.

She insisted that there was nothing like 'friendship' between them—that he'd forced her to accompany him after she learned who he was. Unfortunately, Chronica was right; Garrow wasn't an idiot. He sneered at her answer and asked why she was still travelling with him if she hated him so much. She told him that she became friends with Vash—that he was the only reason she was still around. Garrow laughed outright, obviously not convinced.

He then announced that, since she felt such 'hostility' towards Knives, she might enjoy hearing about his time at the criminal facility. He proceeded to list the various grisly experiments that he'd witnessed, his tone one of vicious amusement. He watched her closely, a predatory leer on his face, as he described in excruciating detail some of his 'favorite' moments. She tried not to react, but her damn heart rate betrayed her.

By the end of his monologue, fatigue had caught up with her. Garrow seemed to notice and inclined his head, a small smirk on his lips, before turning to leave. "I think you might be a bit closer to him than you're letting on," he alleged as he walked to the door. "We'll pick this back up tomorrow." He stepped out, shutting the door behind him, and though her mind continued to churn over all of the things he'd told her—over all the things he'd done to her Knives—it hadn't taken long for sleep to consume her.

As she stared at the white walls, she wondered how long she'd been out…

She tried to sit up, but her body was still too weak. At least she could lift her head today. Glancing around, she saw a camera in the far corner of the tiny room that she hadn't noticed the day before. So they were watching her. Great.

The door squeaked open and the machine beside her began beeping more quickly.

"It's okay," said a man in a lab coat, his hands raised in a placating manner. "I saw you were awake and thought I'd come in to check on you." He smiled down at her, his dark, almost-black eyes crinkling. "How are you feeling?"

Kira watched him suspiciously, taking in the unnerving emptiness behind his seemingly friendly expression. He probably couldn't be trusted, but it wasn't like she had any other options. "Please—you have to help me," she said, desperation coloring her voice. "You have to get me out of here."

The man frowned. "I'm sorry—you're in no condition to go anywhere at the moment."

"Please," she implored. "There has to be a way! A… a wheelchair… or—"

"The captain would be very unhappy if you left," he said, cutting her off and smiling again, the falseness of it sending a chill down her spine. It reminded her of the fake smile Vash sometimes wore, though his often felt underpinned by insecurity, or maybe sadness. This man's smile seemed to hide something much worse. "Here. I brought something special for you," he said, reaching into a pocket at his side and drawing out a syringe. "This will help you relax."

Her eyes went wide. "No—please! Don't! I'm fine—I don't want anything!"

Ignoring her objections, he went to the IV bag and injected the contents of the needle into the solution. "It should take effect in a few minutes. I hope you enjoy it," he said, his eyes crinkling again, and this time she could see a sharpness to the way they glittered. "The captain will be with your shortly."

x.x.x.x.x

"This is Meryl Stryfe, reporting live from the controversial 'Criminal Facility' in Octovern, a place said to house some of the deadliest and most dangerous criminals on the planet. But it seems that the deadliest criminals may, in fact, be running the facility."

"A raid is currently underway, helmed by an elite tactical team from the Federation, to rout out and capture the group of corrupt officials who have been using this facility as their personal laboratory. These men and women have been charged with a litany of crimes, ranging from falsifying medical records, to performing illegal and unconscionable experiments on the people in their care."

She continued on and the twins listened to the small radio in rapt interest as they waited for Michaels to arrive. They'd found the device that morning and had been glued to it since. Knives was grateful for a glimpse into the progress in Octovern, but it didn't stop the relentless pounding in his chest at what news the doc might bring.

A sharp rapping on the door drew two sets of eyes. Knives jumped up and fairly ran to answer it, ripping the door open. "Come in," he snapped at the startled doc on the other side.

For a moment Michaels just stared, stunned by the intimidating greeting. "Uh, yes. Hello," he finally murmured, stepping past Knives and into the house.

Vash extended a hand, welcoming him genially, before gesturing for him to take a seat at the table, and sitting down across from him.

"Well?" Knives said, still standing, his patience long-since depleted.

Michaels let out a slow breath. "Well. Before I say this, I want you to know that it doesn't confirm or deny anything."

Knives narrowed his eyes. "Well?" he growled again.

"Well… I can tell you that no casualties were reported following yesterday's incident. That doesn't necessarily mean she survived. Her death may not have been listed because she isn't a member of the military, or her body may not have been taken aboard the main ship. However…" The doc paused and Knives had to stop himself from throwing a chair across the damn room in a fit of impatience. "Following the gunfights, several emergency shuttles were deployed from the main ship outside of town to gather the injured. Of the people who were taken in, only one was listed in critical condition. An unidentified woman."

Knives' heart skipped a beat, but he held his tongue. He refused to let himself get excited. His emotions had been wrenched from one extreme to the other for the last week and he knew getting excited would only set him up for another painful crash.

"Did you see her?" Knives asked urgently.

"I did not."

Knives swore viciously and the doc's eyes widened in alarm. "Sorry," he muttered. "I'm frustrated. I want answers."

The doc looked sympathetic. "Again—I don't want to get your hopes up, and this could mean nothing, but the reason I didn't see the patient was because the shuttle she's being treated in is clearly being guarded… which is very unusual. I didn't want to risk getting caught—I hope you can forgive me for that."

Knives' brows furrowed. "Do you think it was her?"

Michaels frowned before speaking slowly. "The facts do seem to support that possibility, but I don't wish to confirm it until I'm sure."

"Please," Knives pushed. "Tell us everything you can."

x.x.x.x.x

The doc had reluctantly provided them with the shuttle's number and a brief description of where it was docked, though he pleaded for them not to do anything until he could learn more. Vash assured him that they wouldn't, of course, but Knives remained silent.

He honestly wasn't sure what to do. His gut told him to get her out of there as fast as fucking possible. Garrow's soldiers had kept her alive, but he was certain they weren't doing it to help her. They'd question her once she'd recovered, if not before. And once they told the captain about her… They may have kept her alive, but she was still in grave danger.

He barely noticed when the doc left. He was about to broach the subject of 'what to do' with Vash when the phone buzzed, stopping the words in his throat.

"Hey—can you two hear me?" Meryl's voice rang out loudly from the bulky, black sat-phone.

"Yeah, we can hear you," Vash answered. "Is everything okay?"

"Mostly. The raid went pretty well. We're at the facility with Chronica right now. They caught six of the supposed 'techs.' Knives did say to expect seven, right?"

Knives nodded.

"Uh, yeah," Vash responded.

"Well one left, I guess. I still can't believe how barbaric all of this is. God, Vash—it's… it's so horrible! I mean, I know Knives told us about it, but it's just so much worse in person. There's a whole wing of prisoners who have been brainwashed or something. And they… they're just… it's like they're stuck in this vegetative state. They don't respond to anything! Even the plants on Chronica's team are having trouble figuring out who they are."

"Are you and Millie okay?" Vash asked tensely.

"Yeah—we're fine. We're just about to wrap for the day. Anyway, two of the techs fessed up. They're already working on written confessions incriminating Garrow. We got him!"

"That's great!" Vash exclaimed, smiling over at Knives.

"One problem: Garrow isn't here, so they can't take him into custody."

"Where is he?" Knives asked, his fear rising.

"In December with the rest of his troops. They're sending a team to intercept him before he has a chance to run."

"We have to do something," Knives said emphatically. "It'll take them a day to get here!"

"No! You two are to stay put, do you hear me?"

"But he has Kira!" He was practically shouting now.

There was silence from the other end and then Meryl spoke softly. "You're sure?"

"We're… not exactly sure, but from what the doc said, it's pretty likely," Vash answered.

She let out a slow breath. "Can you please just let Chronica and her team handle this? I'll let her know about Kira, but it's too much of a risk for you two to go in alone. You could be killed," her voice faltered. "Please. Knives—please. Wait."

He remained silent.

"I'll talk to him," Vash muttered, looking over at his brother with a frown. Knives glared back.

"Okay… okay. Look, I gotta go. Just… whatever you do, be careful. For me."

Vash said a quick goodbye and ended the call, a conflicted expression on his face.

"We have to do something," Knives growled again.

"Like what?"

"We have to rescue her."

Vash let out a humorless laugh. "Is that the extent of your plan?"

"This is your area of expertise, not mine," Knives answered dryly.

He released a haggard sigh. "If it is her in there, she'll be in no condition to run around. She may not even be conscious. Maybe it would be best if we wait for the others. It's only one more day—"

"Vash! Garrow will kill her—just to spite us! Especially if he realizes he's lost. We don't have time! We have to go after her now!"

"Aaaaah! Shit!" Vash cursed heatedly, a hand running roughly through his spikey black hair. "Shit shit shit!" He exhaled sharply. "Okay. So… first, we need to find a way aboard the ship, which will probably require an access code, and we need to do it without drawing anyone's attention. And then we'll need to get to the shuttle itself, again without being arrested or killed. Once we're there, we still need to get inside, which means we'll probably need another access code. Not to mention dealing with whatever guards Michaels was talking about… Knives, this is impossible!"

"We'll figure it out. Come on—you do this kind of thing all the time!"

"Arg! Fine! Dammit! But you have to promise me you won't kill anyone."

Knives lifted a brow. "The pair of us are about to take on an entire platoon of soldiers and you're worried about them?"

"Yes," Vash answered simply. "Promise me."

"Fine! I will try not to kill anyone," he snapped. "It's not like I have a damn weapon anyway."

"You better keep that promise," Vash muttered.

"I'll try. But I will also do whatever it takes to get Kira out of there safely."

x.x.x.x.x

Kira stared at the ceiling in a pleasant stupor. She had been staring like this for… hours? Days? Forever? It didn't matter. She was so… warm… and relaxed… with just a little bit of fizzy, bubbly amusement lacing through her. She'd been so worried that the drugs would hurt her somehow, but this was… nice.

The door opened and she heard someone pad across the room toward her. Garrow's head came into view and her smile fell away.

"Sorry, little lady," he said with a grin, "I meant to be here sooner, but something came up."

She glared up at him, a simmering, intoxicated anger taking hold of her. At least her fear was gone. "They're going to get you," she said, speaking without really meaning to. "It doesn't matter what happens to me—they probably think I'm dead. But someone is going to get you."

He narrowed his eyes. "You sure seem set against me, not that I can blame you. Still, I'll never understand why you and your little friends are siding with that monster."

"Because you are the monster," she mumbled. "Knives told us about the… whatever. Experiments. The people you're killing."

"Disposing of convicted murderers and rapists. What a terrible crime," he said flatly. "It's for your damn planet's good, you know."

She frowned and shook her head limply. Forming sentences was too difficult.

"You may not believe me, but I'll say it again—I did it for your planet. And now, after all the work I put in, those bastards are dismantling everything!"

"Good."

His jaw tensed. "You know, I've been doing this job my entire life. I've been on missions all over this damn galaxy. I've seen so many godforsaken human cesspools, and do you know what I did? I fixed them. I put them back together—did whatever I had to put thing in order so the people living there could have happy, comfortable lives. And do you know what I got out of it? Nothing. Not a goddamn thing! Once I was done, they'd ship me off to the next dump of a planet and I'd have to do it all over again. Over and over."

"And I realized that I don't care anymore. I don't want to help people anymore. If these backwater civilizations can't manage to get themselves together, then they deserve to live in chaos. They deserve to go extinct. It's as simple as that. Before I came out here, I decided this would be my last mission. I'd fix this planet up and retire out here, and finally get to enjoy the fruits of my labor. For once! And you know what I found? A goddamn desert wasteland with one of the most backwards, lawless populations I've ever seen, not to mention a system of stressed plants that can barely support the planet because fucking Knives obliterated half their population! So terraforming was out of the question."

"This basically turned into a rescue mission as soon as we touched down, which meant a hell of a lot more work and a lot more time and effort for a bunch of assholes who actually resent our presence! I mean, how ungrateful can you be! But you know what I did? As usual, I brushed it off, got my team to work, and started cleaning this shithole up while the rest of the Federation decided how to proceed."

"And then my boys found the Eye of Michael. We got a good look at some of the stuff they were up to, and I had an idea—a simple way to cull the herd and simultaneously create a way for us to transform this heap of sand into someplace we could actually survive! All we had to do was turn the lowest of the low into plants and use them to terraform. It was the perfect solution. Simple. Effective. The best use of resources…" He trailed off, staring absently for a moment before straightening up with a huff.

"We were this close to figuring that damn formula out," he hissed, holding his almost touching fingers in front of her eyes, "if we just had a little more time. Yes, we made some sacrifices, but those people deserved to die. At least this way they were fucking useful for a change!"

"And then thatprick had to go and tell everyone about it! He fucked up everything! Again! Not only that, but now he's destroyed my entire future! So here we are. I was initially going to question you, but there really isn't a point anymore, little lady."

Garrow gestured to the camera. A moment later, she heard the door swing open across the room and the man in the lab coat came into view, his dark eyes gleaming.

Garrow smiled. "Now, my associate and I have something else in mind."