Vash quirked an eyebrow at the angry man holding him much farther away from the floor than he would have liked. "Sleeping? Or we would like to be, if some people didn't keep interrupting the very important nap."

By the way his shoulders were forcibly introduced to the wall, levity was not called for.

"What did you do here? What is going on?"

Vash put his right hand over the fist at his collar as he tried to make his eyes focus on the face that loomed so close to his nose. "Anne got hurt, badly." His gaze flicked to the bulb for a second before returning to the soldier's face. "Knives brought her here because the angel volunteered to help us heal her."

"Heal her? What happened?"

The captive shrugged, or tried to. It's hard to shrug when you're being held up by your shirt. He dropped his hand and thought a second before answering. "I didn't get very many details, but her throat was torn out. I think a dog did it, but I'm not entirely certain."

"Her throat was what?" Abruptly Vash found himself dropped as his captor whirled around to look at the bulb. "It looks fine." He turned to glare at Vash but the best part of his ire was wasted on the wall. The exhausted plant had slid down to rest on the floor in a crumpled heap.

Resigned to gravity and Vash's seeming inability to combat it, the solider kneeled. "What do you mean her throat was torn out?"

Vash lifted his too-heavy eyelids. "I mean the muscles were torn, her windpipe was crushed, there were more places that blood leaked out than it went where it was supposed to, and that she had a great big owie."

"But she looks fine. I mean, not fine, obviously, because she's floating up in there, but there's no wound." Protests bubbled up out of him as his mind tried to picture Anne with a gaping wound where her neck used to be. Shying away from the image, the guard grabbed Vash's shoulders and shook him. "What are you saying?"

"That's where the healing her part comes into play." Vash was too tired to think anymore. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and sleep, but as soon as he tried it the man before him knocked his head back into the wall. It hurt, and it kept him awake, and he was fed up with it. His eyes flew open, and Vash's temper snapped. "What do you need from me? The door is open, you have the video feed from this room, you can see what we did, and Anne is in the bulb. What can I say that will make things clearer for you?" Vash bit his tongue before more of the angry words could pour out. It wasn't this guard's fault he was tired. His fault that he was collecting more bruises, yes, but that was never a reason for him to lose his temper.

"I don't understand what you did."

"If it helps you any, I did it and I'm still not completely clear about all the details. We tried to keep our friend from dying. It may have worked. It may not have."

The guard turned again and looked at Anne. "She looks fine."

Vash had to finish yawning before he could speak. "Physically she's very weak. She lost a lot of blood, more than a human could lose and be expected to survive. It might be more than a plant can lose, too. Also there was a time when no blood was flowing to her brain, no fresh oxygen to keep her alive. She might be brain dead. I can't tell right now." Vash sighed and closed his eyes again. "If I wake up in a cell, I want to be with my son," he muttered before he succumbed to sleep.

No more shakes could wake him.

The guard stood after he forced himself to relax his grip on Vash's collar. Dragging the sleeping man about wasn't going to help him much but he wanted the security that came with having one of the plants at his mercy.

He went back over to the bulb, pushing past the now larger crowd of men peering up at Anne. Every one that had made it through the door had stopped to peer up at the strange vision. Stomping up the stairs he stepped over the prone plants and kneeled at the edge of the large puddle of blood on the panels. He drew one finger along the edge, feeling the tacky stickiness of the half-dried liquid.

"Bet it stains," he muttered as he stood up. He couldn't help himself; his gaze went once more to the floating figure of Anne. There was something about the scene he could put his finger on, some feeling that lurked unnamed on the edges of his soul. Disgust? Hope? Fear? Anger? Betrayal?

His mind flicked through names but none fit.

"Are the plants secured?" The authoritative voice rang in the room, announcing Mr. Herman's arrival.

The guard started, then scowled to hide the guilty look on his face as he turned to face his boss.

"They're all unconscious, sir," he said before starting down the stairs.

Mr. Herman's gaze flicked up to the bulb as the guard walked towards him, but if its contents disturbed him in any way he gave no sign. "How long until the plant is functional again?" he asked. "We need to get the interlopers out of here so the techs can get to work."

"Yes, sir," said the guard with a bob of his head. "But the plant seems to be occupied at the moment."

"I saw that," commented Mr. Herman. "What's in there with her?" he asked idly, his gaze flicking around the room as he made sure that the damage he feared to see wasn't actually there.

"Who, sir. It's Anne." Abruptly, he was able to put a name to the feeling.

It was awe.