Kira woke and let out an annoyed groan. Vash was right—the thin metal collars were a pain to sleep in. It was… manageable, but it would definitely take some getting used to. It didn't help that she and Knives were sharing one of the two beds, and though it was a good size for a single person, it was a little small for two. Oh well. It was probably good that the Federation didn't know precisely how close they were.

She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and looked over at him, curled up on his side, his jet-black hair splayed across the pillow. She grinned and leaned down, placing a kiss on his cheek. His eyelids twitched, and then cracked opened and blinked slowly. A lazy smile spread over his lips.

"Morning," he mumbled, before yawning and stretching widely.

"Good morning. How'd you sleep?"

"Surprisingly well," he said, throwing an arm over her hips and nestling closer to her. "It seems your distraction was quite effective. We'll have to make use of it going forward." He smirked and his eyes drifted closed again.

She snorted. "Glad I could help," she muttered dryly and poked his side.

He let out a low chuckle and rolled onto his back, gazing up at her. "How did you sleep?"

"Fine, but these collars kinda suck," she admitted with a grimace.

He gave her a sympathetic look that swiftly shifted into something much more inwardly focused and bitter. "You get used to it."

Silence fell and she cleared her throat to disrupt it. She didn't want him getting lost in his thoughts again. "Come on. Let's find out how to get breakfast," she said, rising, heading to the door, and rapping on it loudly.

x.x.x.x.x

Kira was amazed by how accommodating the soldier standing guard outside of their room was. At her request, he immediately fetched a pair of trays, loaded with a surprisingly delicious breakfast. When they had finished eating, she decided to push her luck and asked the man if he would be willing to bring her a few things so she and Knives could cook some of their own meals. He seemed a little surprised, but agreed to help, and so Kira quickly put together a grocery list.

With their kitchen now stocked, she and Knives spent the day relaxing. She didn't even mind being confined to the suite. After all of the excitement, she was grateful for a chance to unwind. Their isolation seemed to be good for Knives, too. He was much calmer than he had been the previous evening. The lines of tension eased from his face, and his posture loosened up considerably. He was also increasingly affectionate—not that he was the only one…

She couldn't help it! After everything, it was just such a relief to have him here—safe—with her.

It was a relief that he was alive at all.

There was a reason the blades sprang forth during the battle. Knives had fucking thrown himself into harm's way. That fact had sort of gotten lost in all of the chaos that followed, but she remembered it now. She remembered the blind terror that engulfed her as a volley of shots blasted through the air, heading straight for him. She still couldn't believe her body reacted in time, but superhuman reflexes were another part of being a plant that she was very, very grateful for.

She shuddered to think of what might have happened, and she had to lace her fingers with his—to squeeze his hand—just to reassure herself that this was real. He was here. They were okay. He hadn't been taken from her—not on that day, nor on any of the days that followed. She smiled at him, and her heart fluttered at the tender way he smiled back.

Vash and Meryl stopped by that evening to check in on them. Kira almost laughed at how excited Knives was to see his brother, as if it had been weeks, and not hours since they'd parted. Vash seemed equally relieved to find them, unharmed, in their room. If he hadn't, Kira was pretty sure he would have stormed the ship.

They spent a few hours talking about everything and nothing in particular, and when Vash and Meryl left, she and Knives settled in bed together and basked; comfortable, and grateful, and happy.

All in all, it was a good day.

x.x.x.x.x

The next few days were equally uneventful. By the end of it, Knives seemed almost carefree. And then, a pair of soldiers arrived at their door and informed them that the doctors were ready for them.

Kira could practically see his anxiety mount as they were led through the ship. By the time they reached the medical wing, his jaw was rigid, and his spine was a rod of iron. To his merit, he held his tongue when Dr. Lark and Dr. Gray, the two women who'd installed the collars, greeted them warmly and asked how they were doing with the new devices. Only a withering look of contempt gave him away. Kira answered in his stead, expressing the various pros and cons of the situation.

Lark listened attentively, her green eyes fixed on Kira, while Gray scribbled down notes with impressively dexterous speed. When Kira was done talking, Lark nodded in understanding and said they would do everything they could to help her adjust to her new state so she could eventually be free of the collar. The doctor didn't mention Knives, and Kira hoped that wasn't telling.

Lark briefly outlined their plan, explaining that they'd begin by observing Kira's basic physical functions. Knives tensed even more at that, and cast a furious scowl at the doctor, but she assured him that their testing wouldn't be nearly as invasive as what he had suffered through—they would not be testing Kira's regenerative capabilities. Lark also offered to send him back to the suite, since they wouldn't need his help until the later stages, but he recoiled sharply, insisting that he'd rather stay.

He watched silently for the first couple of days, but he gradually began adding more and more input on everything, really. By the end of the week, he was interpreting data right along with Lark and Gray. As promised, the first stage was recurrent daily observation of her strength, speed, agility, heartrate, and the like. It was followed by a brief testing of her mental faculties.

Next, they moved on to testing her gate-related abilities and Knives' shielding came into play. He was released first, and when he signaled that he was ready, Gray turned off the disruptors in Kira's collar, and she let out a small noise as his familiar energy prickled around her.

"There you are," she said with a laugh, and he looked positively enamored, so much so that Gray actually raised a brow.

Kira hadn't realized how contained she felt, but now that she was free, she finally understood why the collar bothered him so much. It wasn't that she couldn't live with it, if she had to, but for the first time, she really didn't want to. It was like breathing fresh air, when she hadn't realized she was suffocating. The world seemed to open up around her.

They spent the next week measuring the output of Kira's gate and having her manifest her energy. She was still hesitant to use it, but little by little, her confidence grew. Most of what they asked for was matter generation, and with reluctant instruction from Knives, she was able to create various materials, organic and inorganic, as the angels did.

She had just finished 'growing' a tomato plant, complete with ripe fruit, when Garrow's dream suddenly coalesced for her. This was it. This was what he wanted. And though many of the things he'd done were terrible, some aspects of his plan made sense.

Maybe…

She looked up at Knives. "We could terraform the planet… if there were more like me. If other people volunteered to become plants, then maybe…" She trailed of and an expression of hurt flashed across his face, as if her realization—her desire to use her energy to help humanity—was a personal betrayal.

"Your hair will darken at some point," he reminded her.

"Yeah, but when? How much could I accomplish before that happened?"

He scowled. "I couldn't say."

"We don't have much information on it," Lark said, turning to Kira. "We could do regular measurements to monitor your output level, but that doesn't really tell us how much energy you have stored—only the strength of power you can access. But the darkening is a gradual process. Once it begins, you can stop using your energy, to prevent it from progressing."

"Right…" Kira said softly, rolling the matter over in her head.

She knew it was more complicated than just finding volunteers. Yes, she survived, but there was no guarantee that others could. The serum was dangerous, and the Federation might not risk using it again. They also might not risk giving other people such a magnitude of power—the telepathy, the blades. There would need to be extensive psychological testing for anyone who volunteered.

And even then…

But… maybe…

Knives was very quiet when they returned to their room that night. Vash stopped by to eat dinner and check in on them, as he had every day, and it took him all of two seconds to pick up on his brother's caginess. Kira briefly explained their previous conversation, and Vash was absolutely thrilled with the idea, which only made Knives close up even more. After nearly an hour of Knives stonewalling him, Vash gave up and left with an apologetic glance at Kira. She offered him a tight-lipped smile.

This was going to be a fun evening…

When she finally drew the argument from Knives, it exploded into something loud and vicious that left both of them tired, and angry, and hurt. They slept in separate beds for the first time since they'd arrived. By the following morning, both of their tempers had cooled, and they mumbled less-than-enthusiastic apologies. Knives grudgingly agreed that how she used her energy was her choice, and she promised to take his advice to heart. She knew he had good reasons for feeling the way he did… but this problem was so much bigger than them. If she could help, she had to.

Lark and Gray must have noticed Knives' scarcely contained indignation the previous day, because they decided to shift to telepathic testing. The underlying tension faded a bit since they were moving away from matter creation, but the relief was very short lived.

Once again, Knives shielded Kira. Gray had initially suggested that they use the collar—they could simply turn it on and off as needed, but Knives had vetoed that plan. If the collar was on, Kira had no control. If he was shielding her, she could at least try to preemptively prepare her mind.

He met her eyes and she nodded, letting him know she was ready. The instant he dropped the shield she collapsed, overcome by the raging sea of voices. Knives put it back up immediately, but Kira's heart was already racing. She took several deep, slow breaths, trying to steady herself before looking up at him and nodding again.

He frowned. "Are you sure?"

She offered a half-hearted shrug. "We have to try…"

And try they did, but unfortunately there was no way for Knives to partially shield her. She was either protected, or she wasn't, and the entire flood of input would slam into her, smashing through what little defense she could create. It made 'adjusting' damn near impossible, not that the lack of momentum was unexpected. They knew this would be the most difficult hurdle they'd have to overcome—that it would take time—but Knives became more and more frustrated as the days passed, and Kira was quickly losing hope as well. They sank into each other's arms at night, taking comfort in each other, but they were both growing weary.

Vash began stopping by to 'help out' during the experiments instead of just visiting in the evenings, and though his presence lifted everyone's spirits, it didn't make much of a difference in Kira's progress. After several weeks of trying, and trying, and trying, the horrible conclusion couldn't be avoided any longer; her mind wasn't adjusting at all. Her reaction to the telepathy was just as swift and violent as it had always been.

The group was spread across the lab, dejectedly contemplating what to do next. Kira was on her back on the floor, exhausted from the day's efforts, and caring very little where she lay. Vash was slumped forward, his head face-down on his crossed arms. Lark and Gray were going over the data, searching for anything that might give them a clue about how to proceed. And Knives' chin was resting on his palm, his other hand absently tapping on the table.

"What if…" he murmured softly, and four pairs of eyes snapped to him. "What if we leave the city… go into the desert—away from everyone."

"It would reduce the load," Vash added, lifting his head.

"If she could just… strengthen her shield… little by little, like we did," Knives said, almost to himself. "I think… I think the city is too much, all at once."

Vash frowned. "That'll take a while though. Weeks… months, even."

Knives nodded, staring vacantly, lost in thought. "If we could go out for a week or two at a time… then come back for supplies… measure our progress…"

Lark and Gray glanced nervously at each other. "I don't know if they'll let you leave," Gray said, her eyes on Knives.

He grimaced. His anxiety had mellowed significantly since they'd first arrived—he even admitted to trusting the doctors—but his relationship with the rest of the Federation was far from stable. "I know. But…" He turned to Vash, his brows raised in inquiry. "You could."

"Yeah," Vash answered. "Of course, I'll go if you can't, but… we should ask Olowe first. You never know."

Knives scoffed. "You always were an optimist."

"And you always have too little faith in people," Vash retorted sharply.

Knives smiled grimly, but inclined his head. "I hope you're right."

x.x.x.x.x

He lay with his back to her that evening, scars etched across his otherwise flawless skin. She traced her fingers along a few of them, then leaned forward and placed a kiss between his shoulder blades before running her hand up the back of his neck and through his hair.

It was getting long. It was longer than Vash's now…

"You should get this cut," she murmured, raking her hand through the black strands again before throwing her arm over his waist.

He huffed and laced his fingers with hers, pulling her arm more tightly around him. "I'll let you ask, on my behalf. They respond better to you," he said in a dry tone.

She grinned. "I don't know… I think everyone likes you well enough. Lark and Gray do, at least." She nuzzled against his spine. "I do," she said softly. She kissed him again and exhaled slowly, trying to calm her racing heart. "I, uh… I love you, actually."

She felt him stiffen and let go of her hand. He turned to face her, a lopsided grin tilting his lips. "You do?"

She laughed. "Yeah. I do." She pushed him down against the pillow and leaned over him, pressing her lips to his, before settling down beside him. "I kinda have for a while. I just wasn't quite ready to say it."

Merriment danced across his features. "Say it again?" he entreated, carding a hand through her hair.

She chuckled and placed a light kiss on his shoulder. "I love you."

He let out a deep, contented sigh, his eyes closed and his lips still curved. "You love me," he murmured, before shaking his head and letting out a short laugh. He opened his eyes and his expression softened a little. "I love you too."

She knew he did, of course, but he had refrained from saying it since they came to the ship. She assumed it was because she hadn't reciprocated and he didn't want to push her, but now… Her heart flipped over at the words. She threw herself forward, putting all of her feelings into the kiss, and he met her with an equal measure of passion, and adoration, and joy.

x.x.x.x.x

The following morning, a soft knocking interrupted their breakfast, and the door slid open to reveal Olowe with a pair of soldiers behind him. Kira's jaw dropped. They hadn't seen the admiral in person since the day they arrived on the ship.

"May I have a moment?" he asked, amusement playing over his face, no doubt provoked by her stunned expression.

"Uh, yeah. Come in," she stammered, stepping back so they could enter.

Once everyone was seated—Olowe with his soldiers standing guard, Kira still gawking, and Knives staring coldly—the admiral began. "I'm sure you know why I'm here. You wish to leave, and I want you to convince me as to why I should allow it." As he finished, his gaze fell on Knives, and the blue-eyed plant let out a huff.

"There are too many people in the city," he said flatly. "I suspect this is why Kira hasn't made any progress thus far. She cannot train her mind under such a heavy burden. If we don't reduce the load, she'll never improve. By taking her into the desert, we can allow her to develop the foundation she needs to move forward."

"Yes, Dr. Lark said as much when she apprised me of the situation. What I don't understand is why you need to be there," Olowe countered. "Your brother specifically asked that I let you go, but from what I gather, he could just as easily take your place."

Knives' face went stony. "Yes," he said, and Kira knew he was doing everything he could not to snap at the admiral. "If my presence is your only qualm, then I'll stay behind."

"No." The word left her mouth instantly. "Knives hasn't caused any trouble since we got here. Can't you just send some soldiers with us to guard him or something?"

"I could, yes. But why should I take such a risk?"

"Because he deserves to be there!" she growled. "Because this whole thing is his idea, and I trust his judgement of the situation better than anyone else's. Because he's the one who taught me how to shield my mind in the first place, and he's the one who's been teaching me since I became a plant. He knows where I'm strong, and where I'm weak, and he'll push me, but he won't let me get hurt. He wants this plan to succeed more than anyone!"

A bark of laughter cut through the air from Olowe, who was now sporting a wry grin. "Yes, I believe you're right about that," he said, glancing shrewdly at Knives. "He's very fond of you, isn't he."

Kira felt her cheeks go pink. Her relationship with Knives wasn't exactly a secret, but they still tried to keep it under wraps as much as possible. She swallowed. "Uh… yeah. He is. And that's part of the reason you can trust him not to escape. He'd never leave me behind, and I want to stay."

Olowe looked surprised. "You do?"

Kira licked her lips nervously. "I guess. I mean… if we can figure this out—if I can survive this—that means the serum works, right? And maybe it would work on other people too." She sighed, wishing she'd known they'd be having this conversation today. "I don't know. Maybe we really could shape the planet… find a way to survive here. I want to help. And I need him to do that."

Olowe paused, his brows coming together, before offering a small nod. "Very well."

Knives blinked, and then his eyes went wide.

"Dr. Lark and Dr. Gray have both given positive recommendations on your behalf, as has Chronica," Olowe said, turning to him. "You'll be guarded, of course, but you may accompany the others in this venture. Prove to me that their trust has been well-placed."

Knives nodded stiffly, his face frozen in shocked disbelief, and Olowe rose, excusing himself with a smirk.

x.x.x.x.x

Lark and Gray took the next few days off to prepare. Vash told Meryl about the plan, and she had somehow convinced Olowe to let her and Millie tag along to document the whole thing. Vash would be there too, of course, along with a small group of four soldiers.

Knives, his hair cropped short, groused repeatedly about the size of the crew—arguing that the entire point of the trip was to not be surrounded by people—but he was wisely silent as the soldiers led him and Kira to the shuttle on the morning of their departure. Everyone else was aboard when they arrived. Kira greeted Meryl and Millie excitedly. She'd seen far too little of them in the last couple of months.

The craft soon took off, and Kira chatted with the two women through the entire trip. They landed in a tiny village, if it could even be called that. It wasn't more than a couple of houses crowded around a single, empty bulb. Isolated. And clearly abandoned. Hell—judging by the state of the buildings, it had probably been abandoned long before the war began.

They disembarked and briefly stretched their limbs before carrying their equipment to the larger of the two houses. The soldiers on guard insisted Knives stay cuffed, and he merely rolled his eyes. Meryl and Millie began filming a quick intro while Lark and Gray hooked up the diodes to measure Kira's gate. Knives put up a shield around her and signaled to the doctors to turn off her collar.

"I assume you've all been trained to shield your minds?" he called out loudly, his gaze moving from person to person until they'd had all confirmed that they could. "Good. Then do so. I don't want her to be bombarded by your thoughts once the shield is dropped. Let's see how she does with no external input," he said, casting another quick glance around. "Are you ready?" he asked, facing Kira.

She exhaled sharply, preparing herself for the overwhelming roar she'd come to expect. "Do it." She felt his energy fall away, but, to her great relief, the world was silent. She let out a shaky laugh and Knives' face broke into a brilliant smile.

"You're okay? It worked?"

"Yeah, I… I think so."

Vash let out a whoop, and Lark and Gray busied themselves writing down every bit of data that they could.

Knives walked over to her, still beaming. "So? What can you hear?"

"Nothing much… It's pretty quiet. Maybe a few flickers here and there…" She looked at the various spectators, who were doing an impressive job of keeping their thoughts quiet, and then back at Knives.

"Alright. I'm going drop my personal shield so we can see how you do with a little input."

Kira signaled that she was ready and a flurry of thoughts began tickling her mind. It felt… different… than when Knives had connected with her is the past. Normally, his thoughts came to her like speech—or they were at least precise in their meaning—but this was… more abstract. More… hazy.

He felt… pride for her. And love. And a ridiculously overwrought sense of self-satisfaction that the plan, his plan, had worked.

There were also little flitting bits that shifted and changed too fast for her to read fully. She focused on one of the passing thoughts and was surprised when it suddenly became clear—he was worried that this wouldn't help her, long-term. She focused on another—he was slightly uncomfortable letting her run rampant through his mind.

She almost laughed at that one.

Oh, this was… this was fascinating! No wonder he used to peek into her head all the damn time!

She could feel him growing annoyed as she continued delving through his thoughts, when suddenly a series of explicit, and surprisingly potent memories slammed into her. Her cheeks went hot and she actually gasped.

A wave of amusement swept over from him and his eyes widened in mock innocence. "If you're done perusing through my thoughts, perhaps you could try shielding yourself?"

Oh… right. That.

She did as she had in the past, pushing his mind away, and the world went silent again. "Okay," she said, "now what?"

"Now hold it for as long as you can," he challenged, before wandering over to where Lark and Gray were still writing.

She frowned. Okay…? The shielding wasn't exactly hard, so…

A minute ticked by, then two. Vash joined Meryl and Millie, and they began chatting amiably. The soldiers had also relaxed a bit and were talking amongst themselves. Another minute passed, and another. Kira was getting bored. She knew what Knives was doing—maintaining control of the shield had always been difficult. If she didn't concentrate, it would fail. So she held her focus. And waited. And waited…

Nearly ten minutes had passed when her control finally slipped and Knives' thoughts came crashing through, along with everyone else's. It seemed she wasn't the only one who'd lost focus on shielding. She let out a soft noise of surprise and all eyes turned to her as she struggled against the small chorus of minds. Though it didn't take long, she was already panting, and Knives was at her side by the time she regained control. Judging by his guilty expression, he knew what had happened—that it wasn't just his mind she'd been fighting.

"I'm sorry—I thought it would be best if you dealt with that on your own. Experience is what you need the most right now," he said solemnly.

She nodded, only half hearing him. Most of her attention was diverted to maintaining the shield.

"I won't protect you while we're out here unless it's an emergency. It's up to you now—all day, every day. You can use the collar in the mornings and evenings, but once you have a better grasp of things, you shouldn't use it at all."

She nodded again.

"This will be difficult. This will take time. But I promise, you'll learn. It will become automatic."

She bobbed her head vigorously, wishing he'd stop talking so she could concentrate.

"Kira."

She looked up, her control on the verge of slipping again, and he winked, smirking. She swore viciously and turned her back on him, ignoring the soft chuckle that floated through the air.

She'd forgotten what an ass he could be.