The soldiers arrived shortly after breakfast to escort them to see the admiral. Only Knives was put into a pair of cuffs. Though he held his indignation inside, it irritated him that he was only one considered to be a threat when Vash had done all the shooting and Kira had produced the blades. For once, he'd actually been somewhat innocent.
But… he would always be the 'villain.'
He didn't entirely understand why Kira was willing to overlook his reprehensibly violent past. He was grateful that she did, though. And he wasn't an idiot—after their conversation the previous night, he wouldn't question her any further about it. He didn't want to push her into second guessing her decision to be with him more than he already had. Still, he marveled at her forgiveness.
They walked through the maze of hallways and were brought into a chamber containing a long conference table. Chronica was seated a few chairs down from the head, and the soldiers led Vash, Knives, and Kira to the three empty spots beside her. The brothers took the first two, and the third was pulled out of the way to make room for Kira's wheelchair. The rest of the seats were filled with unfamiliar faces.
Knives felt his pulse quicken, but kept his expression carefully neutral.
"Now that everyone is here," said the dark-skinned man at the head of the table, "I'd like to begin by introducing myself. For those of you who don't know me," he continued, staring directly at the twins and Kira, "my name is Admiral Olowe, head of the 'Pieces of Earth' Diplomatic Fleet. As I'm sure you are all aware," he glanced around the room at the other attendees, "we are here to discuss the fate of these three individuals who were mistreated by the Cassiopeia's dishonorably discharged former captain, James Garrow. This is an unofficial meeting."
His deep voice resonated through the space. He waited until all eyes were on him before he continued, ensuring that everyone was focused on what he was about to say.
"I repeat, this is unofficial. This 'informal conversation' is of the highest clearance level. None of what is said here is to be repeated. We have already spoken to the soldiers who were present at the battle—they have been ordered to keep silent about everything they saw. The public cannot know that Millions Knives is still alive until we've decided how to proceed. That being said, this is an open discussion. Feel free to voice your opinions."
There were soft murmurs of assent from the men and women gathered around the table.
Olowe smiled, his eyes scanning over the room, and Knives was surprised when they briefly locked with his own. The man's gaze was kind—empty of the cold distrust Knives would have expected.
Olowe took a breath. "Okay. Let's start by going over the facts…"
x.x.x.x.x
The admiral began by outlining what had happened before handing the discussion over to Chronica, who filled in what she considered to be the 'pertinent' details. She told them everything. Far more than Knives was comfortable with. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised—her strategy wasn't exactly subtle. She was trying to show a different, more relatable side of him by explaining his motivations and what he'd suffered through. But he felt horribly naked, having so much of his personal history and relationships and trauma put on display for these strangers to muse over.
Still, he stayed silent. He kept his eyes down. He wouldn't interrupt. He wouldn't undermine her words by getting defensive. He definitely wouldn't try to justify any of his actions. He'd simply remain calm and amenable.
When she was finished, Olowe spoke again, and the admiral's first statement shocked Knives.
"I think we can all agree that Vash the Stampede deserves a full pardon on this matter. Despite the gunfight, few of our men were actually injured, and none of those injuries were serious. We are aware of your level of marksmanship," he said, turning to Vash, "and I'm sure you could have done a lot more damage if you'd wanted to." A knowing half-smile play over his lips.
Vash went red. "I… er… I didn't want to hurt anyone," he mumbled under his breath, a hand absently rubbing the back of his neck.
Olowe nodded. "As I surmised. Would anyone like to object to this decision?"
When no one spoke, he continued.
"Good, then the next matter is what to do with Millions Knives…"
x.x.x.x.x
The group's reaction was mixed. Some sympathized with what he'd gone through—especially the plants, after hearing about Tessla. Others believed that his crimes were too great for any kind of amnesty. Both Vash and Chronica spoke passionately in his favor, but their words swayed few. The discussion had been going on for over an hour, though little progress had been made toward finding a resolution both sides could agree on, when Olowe finally put an end to it, suggesting that they move on to other matters—namely, what to do with Kira.
All eyes turned to her and she shrank down in her chair, feeling very intimidated.
Once again, Chronica outlined the facts, elaborating on what she'd mentioned in her previous monologue. She also asked Kira a few questions about her run-in with Garrow. When she was finished, Olowe spoke, his gaze fixed on Kira.
"I have already agreed not to force you into any kind of experimentation; however, I would appreciate it if you participated willingly."
Knives let out a sharp breath, drawing Olowe's attention.
"You wish to speak?"
The plant narrowed his ice-blue eyes, glaring for a moment, before lowering them and shaking his head.
The admiral continued, turning back to Kira. "I can assure you, these tests will not be as painful or invasive like what your friend has endured. And if, at any point, you feel uncomfortable, you are free to walk away. We simply want to understand what has happened to you. Is this something you might consider?"
Silence fell and Kira looked around at the room full of faces, some of whom she recognized from the previous day, and all of whom were watching her curiously. She turned to Knives. She knew he had misgivings, but his eyes softened as they met hers and she could see the support in them. He'd go along with whatever she chose.
"I… think I'd be willing to participate," she finally answered. "I'd need to know more about it, but… yes. It's something I'd consider."
Olowe looked pleased. "Would you be willing to return to the lead ship in Octovern? I have a very skilled team of doctors familiar with treating plants who would love the opportunity to work with you."
She stared blankly for a moment. "Uh… yeah? I guess?"
"Wonderful. We'll need to go over the research Garrow's team accumulated. I'm told that no one has been able to adjust to the telepathic burden thus far, but we will do everything we can to help you. We can at least offer you a long-term barrier. They'll likely need to drop it to test certain abilities, but we will make sure one of our plants is there to shield you."
Kira glanced at Knives, and then back at Olowe, a questioning wrinkle between her brows. "Knives can shield me," she said stiffly.
"We haven't decided what to do with him yet," he said, letting her fill in the blanks: Knives might now be 'around' to help her.
"He can shield me," she repeated firmly, hoping her understood her subtext.
Olowe raised a brow. "I was planning on holding him in a more secure location until we decide to do with him. He will be taken care of."
"No," she said, shaking her head. Even if they could prove they were 'taking care' of him… just… no. "He stays with me or I won't do it."
"I see," he said, his lips quirking in amusement, his gaze shifting to Knives. "And would you be willing to shield her, without interfering in any other way, while she undergoes this process," he asked.
Knives blinked, his eyes widening slightly, and then nodded slowly. "I would."
"Then… I accept your terms," he said, turning back to Kira, his eyes twinkling. Murmurs of astonishment rolled through the room.
"Admiral, are you sure this is wise?" one of the men questioned, his tone sharp.
"I must insist on a few precautionary measures," the admiral continued. "Are you both willing to be fitted with cerebral collars?"
It was Vash who spoke up. "Is that really necessary?" he asked, making a face. "Those things aren't exactly comfortable…"
The admiral let out a soft chuckle. "I believe it would actually be a benefit to them both. A collar would give us control over Kira's telepathic input so she wouldn't need to be shielded. I'd also feel much safer if we had some measure of control over him. I'm sure you can understand." He turned to Kira. "Is this acceptable?"
She looked over at Knives. He was scowling furiously, his eyes fixed on his cuffed hands, fisted together in his lap. "I… We… agree as long as you promise to take them off when all this is done. And… I want your word that you'll set both Knives and me free."
There were cries of blatant outrage at that, and the admiral had to put up a hand to restore order in the room.
"I will consider it, if he can prove that he is no longer a threat to the Federation or the humans on this planet. I can't make that promise though."
Well, she really couldn't complain. They weren't going to kill him or lock him up—at least for a while. "Knives…?"
He glanced up, as if startled, and she raised her brows in question. He scowled again but gave a sharp nod before dropping his gaze again.
She turned back to the admiral. "Yeah. We'll do it."
x.x.x.x.x
"Well… that went… well…?" Vash glanced nervously at his brother, who had wandered across their room as soon as they entered and was now standing alone, his arms crossed, staring at the wall. Vash, Kira, and Chronica were gathered near the door, watching him in various states of concern. He hadn't spoken since the meeting, and, despite the positive outcome, his demeanor was bordering on abrasive.
"Yeah," Kira agreed, glancing at Vash. "At least you're free. And we bought some time for you, Knives," she continued, turning toward the agitated plant. "Now we just have to prove that you're not a threat. That shouldn't be too hard, right…?" She trailed off, hoping to draw him into the conversation.
He looked over and sighed, obviously not convinced. "I'm more concerned about the collars," he said dully.
"I know, and I'm sorry. You just got yours off and—"
"I'm not worried about mine," he said, interrupting her. "I was expecting it. But I don't want one of those things on you."
"It might be a good thing," Vash said tentatively. "Like the admiral said, it'll give you both a break, since she won't need to be shielded anymore."
Knives let out a huff and looked away again. Kira wasn't sure why he cared so much about her collar. She really didn't mind having to wear one. And if it could be used as a long-term telepathic barrier…
"It does sounds like the collar might be the easiest solution to all of this," she prodded.
Knives didn't answer, but he tensed, visibly.
"You don't agree?"
How could he not understand? She knew why he didn't want his telepathy restricted—it was a part of him. But she really didn't care about it one way or another. It wasn't like she could use it, even if she wanted to. She'd much rather have some independence, instead of having to be 'shielded' all the damn time.
Her anger began to swell at his continued refusal to speak. Why the hell did this bother him so much?
"Vash," Chronica said, her cool alto breaking the awkward silence that had descended. "I promised Meryl I'd call her after the meeting. Would you care to join me in updating her on our situation?"
Vash's face lit up. "I'd love to!"
"Come—let's take a walk," she said with a smirk, glancing at Knives and Kira before drawing Vash out into the hall, leaving them on their own.
"Hey," Kira said sternly, rising from the wheelchair with a small wince, and walking to where Knives stood. She grabbed his wrists, unfolded his arms, and took his hands in hers. "Talk."
He met her eyes reluctantly. "I know I should be happy. I know this is the best outcome we could have hoped for. But… I worry. About what they might do to you."
"You'll be there."
"Yes," he scoffed. "So they say. I still don't quite believe it."
"I won't cooperate unless you're with me."
"They may force you to." He grimaced. "And if they do, I won't be able to do a damn thing to stop them. And… neither will you," he said with a pointed look at her.
She frowned. What was he getting at?
"I…" He paused, his brows coming together. "You… probably have more power than anyone else on this planet, now. You know that, right?"
She stared vacantly, dumbfounded. She… what?
His jaw clenched. "The other plants don't have the abilities that we do… or… did," he added ruefully. "Vash and I have drained our power, but you still have yours. You're the last 'fully functioning' first generation plant. You may not have control over your telepathy yet, but you still have everything else."
His gaze was restless, pausing on the wall, their hands, the bed, but never stopping for long.
"You are powerful," he repeated. "If you weren't injured, you could free us both today. Right now. The blades are… intuitive, as I've shown you. And they're sharp—sharper than you can possibly imagine. Cutting through the walls of this ship would be so easy…" He exhaled a short breath that almost sounded like a laugh. "But, that would bring the soldiers down on us. And… I know you wouldn't want that. I wouldn't want that. And, I'm all but useless now… and I would never askyou to do anything like that… but…"
An escape would lead to fighting. And killing. No. She definitely didn't want that. For either of them.
His eyes darted around, seeing nothing. He looked so desperate.
"If you weren't injured—if you had your mobility—at least you could use the blades to defend and escape. Unfortunately, they'll have a collar around your neck by then," he snapped, his anger returning. "I know they said it will help, but I think that's only half the truth. You're a threat to them. You are dangerous. But once they put that collar on you, you'll be entirely at their mercy. What if they've been lying—about everything? About their plans. What if they separate us? Or use you like Garrow wanted to? Like they did to me. What if—"
She pressed a hand to his lips before he spiraled into more of a frenzy than he already had.
He let out a short breath and met her eyes again. "I'm sorry, I… worry. I can't help but worry," he murmured against her fingers.
"I know," she said, smiling a little. "But it's going to be okay—I promise."
"You can't promise that."
She dropped her hand. "You're right—I can't. But I can tell you that worrying won't help. Right now, our options are fairly limited, and I think going along with the Federation is the best plan. And… I really do think it's going to be fine."
"You trust them?" he said, his nose wrinkling.
Kira grinned. "I wouldn't say I trust them, but they haven't done anything to make me distrust them. I'm… optimistically neutral? I think they've treated us fairly, so far, and I think they deserve a chance to prove themselves… kinda like you did."
He rolled his eyes at that and she laughed before moving closer, putting her arms around his waist, and resting her forehead on his chest. He responded by circling his arms around her and sighing a warm puff of air against the top of her head.
"We just have to hope for the best, I guess. If something goes wrong, we'll figure it out. Don't forget, we're not alone."
She felt him nod and then he lifted her chin and drew her into a kiss, which would have been lovely if her stomach hadn't decided that this was a perfect moment to rebel against her in a spasm of pain.
"Ah, shit!" she gasped, curling in on herself with a wince.
He gave her an apologetic look. "Come," he said, leading her toward the bed and helping her sit, her back propped against a pillow. "You alright?"
She let out a slow breath as the pain subsided. "Yup—I'm good," she ground out. She offered a weak, crooked smile. "It hurts, but it really is a lot better than it was. I still can't believe how fast it's healing."
"You're… happy about it?" he said cautiously.
She paused, thinking for a moment. "I'm still… a little conflicted… not being human anymore. But, yeah. I mean, how can I not appreciate faster healing?" She gestured him over. "Sit with me."
An adorable smile crept over his face as he settled down beside her. She tipped her head back in what she hoped was an obvious invitation to pick up where they'd left off when her stomach had interrupted them. His smile shifted into a cocky smirk and he leaned forward, capturing her lips with his and cupping her jaw with his hand. He situated himself carefully, so she didn't have to move out of her comfortable position.
When he finally broke the kiss, she let out a pleased sigh. "I can't wait until I'm strong enough to do other things again."
His eyes danced. "I could always to other things to you." His hand moved to her inner thigh and began inching slowly upward.
She laughed, pushing him away. "Your brother could be back any minute!"
He pouted, looking eerily like Vash. "I wonder if they'll let us stay together on 'the lead ship,'" he said, his expression darkening. "If the collar works, you won't need me to shield you at night…" He trailed off.
"They better," she muttered. She had meant 'he stays with me' literally. She wished they'd had a chance to speak with the admiral privately to hammer out more of the details. How much sway did she have? If she was uncooperative—if she threatened to walk away—would they give in to her demands?
Or would they use Knives to control her. They could push back. Very easily… She'd do just about anything to keep him safe.
Fuck. All she could do was hope for the best.
x.x.x.x.x
A trio of soldiers escorted them to the shuttle bound for Octovern early the following morning. Again, Knives was the only one put into cuffs before being led through the ship. He cursed internally. The soldiers also insisted Kira use the wheelchair, despite her mild complaints that she felt well enough to walk. Knives actually agreed with them on that front, though he wasn't stupid enough to tell her that.
A small group including Chronica and the admiral was already aboard, and the craft took off almost as soon as they were seated. The journey was… uncomfortable. Mostly because of how comfortable everyone acted. They were relaxed and familiar, chatting easily. Vash seemed to fit in without even trying, and Kira was friendly, although a little more reserved than normal. Their ease only made Knives feel more awkward. Separate. Isolated.
Most of the passengers ignored him. Any questions they had about him were addressed to Vash, Chronica, or Kira. Vash tried to draw him into the conversation a few times, but Knives kept his responses brief and succinct. He really wasn't in the mood to socialize anyway.
When they landed, finally, he released a sigh of relief. Even being incarcerated would be better than this special kind of hell. And at least he wouldn't be alone. Vash wouldn't be residing on the ship, but Kira had insisted that she and Knives share a room. The admiral had chuckled at her stubborn resolve but agreed to give them a 'comfortable place to stay.'
As they stepped off the shuttle, they were surprised to find a bouncy brunette and an ecstatic raven-haired reporter waiting for them in the hangar. Meryl rushed over, throwing her arms around Vash, who let out a pained grunt as she crushed his ribs, but grinned happily. They were soon swept up by Millie, who wrapped her arms around the pair of them before moving on to Kira, nearly lifting the girl out of her chair, and then to Knives, who scarcely contained a surprised yelp at the sudden overt display of affection. She approached Chronica last, but at a dangerously raised eyebrow, Millie slowed and extended a hand instead. Chronica smiled and took it cordially.
Meryl released Vash, her gaze overly bright, and Knives heard her murmur something about 'nitwit' and 'get yourself killed.' She wiped a hand across her eyes and turned to Kira, an expression of relief on her face. "You're okay," she said, her voice only wavering slightly. "It's so good to see you!" She bent down, embracing Kira warmly.
Kira grinned. "You too."
Meryl took a step back and looked to Knives. "And how are you?"
He lifted his hands, drawing attention to his cuffed wrists, a sardonic smile twisting his lips. Apparently, the soldier at his side didn't approve of the motion and the man put a firm hand on his shoulder.
Meryl's brows knitted together in confusion and she turned to Vash, who murmured something in her ear. She seemed to understand and gave Knives a sympathetic look.
He simply shrugged. It could be worse.
She moved to where Kira, Millie and Chronica were gathered, and joined in their surprisingly animated conversation. Vash walked over to Knives and they watched in mute amusement.
Olowe, who had been speaking with several other passengers from the ship, walked up beside them and cleared his throat loudly, drawing the women's attention. "As much as I hate to interrupt this reunion, we should probably press on. I'd like to show you the room and make sure it's acceptable. After that, our doctors are waiting to fit you with your cerebral collars," he said, glancing at Kira, and then at Knives. "If you'd please come with me," he concluded, leading them forward.
x.x.x.x.x
Once they reached the room they would be 'staying' in, though Knives suspected 'imprisoned' in was a more accurate description, the admiral typed in a code and gestured them inside. Knives stepped through the threshold and let out a soft breath of surprise. It was much nicer than he was expecting. It was similar to Vash's suite on the Melca Border ship. There was a cozy living area, a small kitchen, a bedroom with two decently sized beds, and a bathroom. It was small, but for a spaceship, it was astonishingly luxurious.
Kira made an impressed noise as she entered, as did Vash and his girls. Even Chronica let out a soft hum of approval.
The admiral smiled. "We usually reserve this room for visiting diplomatic envoys. I trust you find it acceptable?"
"It's amazing!" Kira said eagerly. "Thank you." She flushed a little. "I'm not gonna lie, I was half expecting… well…"
"A cell," Vash finished for her, looking around in disbelief. "This is incredible!" He turned to Knives. "You think you'll be okay here?"
Knives stared at him blankly for a moment, his stomach flipping as the realization that Vash wouldn't be with them sunk in. As much as he wanted alone time with Kira, saying goodbye to Vash made him very, very nervous.
He answered slowly. "Yes. I think we'll be okay." He paused. "Where will you stay?"
Vash cast a sidelong glance at Meryl, his cheeks going pink. "I'll figure something out. And I promise I'll stop by every day," he said, before turning to the admiral to confirm that he would even be allowed to visit that often.
The admiral nodded and Vash turned back with a grin.
Every day. Okay… okay. Knives tried to calm his nerves.
Okay.
"And… you're leaving… now?"
Vash shrugged. "I don't have to. I can stay until the collars are done."
As tempting as it was, Knives didn't want to force him to wait around for hours while the anesthetics wore off. Besides, it was already late.
"No… No, it's fine," he said brusquely, feeling foolish. "Tomorrow."
"Okay. Tomorrow." Vash smiled warmly and pulled him into a hug, which he tentatively returned, his heart pounding in his chest. This wouldn't be the last time he'd see Vash. They'd both be fine. He didn't need to worry.
The others said goodbye, exchanging hugs and various words of encouragement before Chronica led them into the ship. Knives' fingers curled into a fist as the door slid closed behind them. A hand wrapped around his arm and Kira looked up at him worriedly. He gave her a tight smile in a weak attempt to reassure her, though he was sure it didn't reach his eyes.
"Well," said the admiral, "are you ready?"
Knives let out a heavy breath and nodded, still looking at Kira.
She smiled gently and turned to Olowe. "Lead the way."
x.x.x.x.x
A pair of painfully bright fluorescent bulbs beamed down, blinding Knives, when his eyes cracked open. He felt… numb. Mentally. Again. Dammit… He blinked a few times in a useless attempt to clear his vision before putting a hand to his throat and exhaling wearily. Metal.
"Hey, you're up." A soothing voice whispered. "How are you feeling?" He turned his head. Kira was lying in the hospital bed beside his. Right. His memories came flooding back. He'd shielded her while the anesthetic took effect. Then they had dosed him…
Her collar glinted in the harsh light. It must be working—he wasn't shielding her now, and she seemed fine. Although having her under the Federation's control unnerved him, he couldn't deny a small amount of relief that they'd been right. Her life was no longer in danger. If her mind couldn't accept the telepathy, at least they had the collar as a fallback.
She was staring at him somewhat expectantly. Right… She had asked how he was.
"I'm fine," he answered without really thinking. "And you?"
"I'm… good," she said, a soft smile curving her lips. "Great, even. There's… nothing. No voices. I almost feel normal again." She watched him for a moment and a small crease appeared between her brows. "You sure you're okay?"
"Of course," he said quickly, looking back at the glaring lights.
He was fine… He was. Other than the fact that he felt completely emasculated and was trapped in the clutches of an organization that wanted him dead. His telepathic abilities hadn't been much, but they had at least given him a weapon. But now… he had nothing. All he could do was fucking hope that the humans would keep their word. Being reduced to this after finally regaining a little bit of power was equal parts terrifying and infuriating. He was so tired of feeling… cornered.
"You want to talk about it?"
He started, her voice jerking him from his thoughts. "Talk about what?"
"Whatever's bothering you… The collar? The Federation?" She hesitated. "Me?"
He made a face. "You?"
She looked sheepish. "Maybe you don't like that I'm happy about the collar?"
He pushed himself into a seated position and reeled for a moment at a sudden wave of dizziness—a side effect of the anesthesia, no doubt. "That's not… entirely accurate," he mumbled. "I am happy that you feel safe—that it alleviates your concern." He sighed. "I was thinking about my collar. I understand why they insist on it, but I'd feel a lot safer if I still had my telepathy. I know this is the best option we have—I know that—but…"
"You worry," she finished for him. "And only time will tell if we can trust the Federation or not."
"Exactly… so, in the meantime, I'm stuck on this… this precipice. I feel like something's going to go wrong, it's going to give way, I'm going to fall, and all I can do is wait for it to happen," he said, his voice growing louder as his emotions began spiraling out of control. "Not only that, but I have to pretend like everything is okay. I have to remain calm. And… I have to show everyone around me that I'm stable and… friendly… when I'm not! I'm suspicious and angry and… and… afraid…" He let out a heavy breath, his energy gone. "And weak. And helpless. I hate feeling so helpless. It heightens everything else."
She stared at him, unblinking, and then suddenly climbed out of bed and went to the door, knocking on it loudly. He narrowed his eyes in confusion.
It whooshed open and a soldier stood there, his gun in his hand. "Miss?" he said, casting a wary glance at Knives.
"We'd like to go back to our room. Is that… uh… Can someone take us there, or…?"
The man looked uncomfortable. "I'll have to speak with your doctor."
"Please do," she said curtly. "And thank you."
The door closed behind him and Kira walked back to her bed, looking very pleased with herself. "I think I have a solution," she said brightly, and he tipped his head to the side, inviting her to elaborate. "You need a distraction."
x.x.x.x.x
Breath. Heat. Her mouth, lips, tongue, moving against him. Making him rise. Making him hard. Pushing him to the edge, then slowing down, drawing him back, then pushing him to the edge again. Tantalizing. Teasing. Until finally, she gave him what he wanted. What he needed. He bucked his hips and let out a shuddering gasp, a groan, as he overflowed and was left panting, his mind utterly and blissfully bereft of thought. It was wonderful.
She climbed forward to lay beside him, wincing as she moved, and he immediately swore. She'd insisted she felt fine and had all but forced him to accept her attentions. Now he regretted giving in. He tried to help her, but she lightly pushed him back and settled against his side.
"I'm fine," she said crossly.
He let out a skeptical huff but didn't argue. "I was supposed to do that to you," he groused.
She laughed. "Yeah, well, you needed it more than I do." She glanced over at him. "Feel any better?"
He couldn't hold back a smile. "I do, actually."
"Good." She placed a light kiss on his shoulder before snuggling closer to him and his smile deepened.
"Thank you," he said softly. "Not for… this—although, thank you for that too—but for understanding."
She lifted her head and grinned. "Of course. I know you, Knives. And you're ridiculously easy to read. And… you're not wrong. You concern is valid. I just hope the worst doesn't come to pass. In the meantime, if there's anything I can do to help you cope with the weirdness of all this, let me know."
She snuggled in again, her warmth soothing and relaxing him. He really did feel a hell of a lot better. He knew there would be difficulties ahead, but at least he didn't need to worry about this.