Disclaimer in previous chapters. Please see the Author's Notes at the end.

- . -

Gradually she became aware of someone talking, and she opened her eyes.

Only her eyes weren't open, not really. They were glowing, and she could see right through her eyelids.

Yellow light tinged everything she saw, yellow and red.

Blood.

She shuddered violently, shocked, and forced herself to look. To remember.

Blood spattered the inside of the outer bulb, darkening it. It cradled and swallowed the emaciated, spent body of the Plant. It tried to lighten the jet-black hair, fill the mouth cracked wide in a scream the humans hadn't heard.

Her sister.

A Plant.

Murdered right before her eyes.

And she powerless to do anything about it.

Rage boiled inside of her, so that she wanted to scream it, she wanted every last one of the loathsome spiders to hear it, and tremble. She barely made out the human behind her, begging forgiveness.

There would be no forgiveness. Not now.

Not ever.

Her left arm extended of its own accord, her fist clenched as the transformation began. She barely paid any attention, not to shape or size or the power being consumed. Every portion of her concentration was spent finding them, seeking them out, touching each feculent mind before piercing it. Their shrieks were far from her ears, and they brought her no satisfaction.

The technician that had initiated the torture, cut down at his console.

A child, its arms clinging to its brother as its body was cleanly cut away.

The mother trying desperately to shield her offspring –

She'd tried to shield her. Her sister had been crying, her pain is what had brought her to this place. She'd come to this prison of bulbs to help, and instead the technicians had begun –

What had they called it? The Last Run?

She would do the same to them. So that every one of their bodies lay spattered and spent against the dust of this planet, so their blood fed the sands instead of the Plants they sought to consume.

Still she reached, her gut roiling with the effort and her hatred and sadness. How dare they! To her sister! Her own kind!

Her brother.

She couldn't close eyes that were already closed. Couldn't stop herself from seeing with the light pouring out of her. The bulb held for her a different figure now, just as spent, its ripped torso a map of agonizing wounds inflicted by them. The hair was shorter, but no less dark, and the arm, its metal fingers impossibly frozen as he'd clawed frantically at the bulb, seeking escape –

Her brother.

The voice was still talking, still begging. The human was still trying to explain, to rationalize –

There was no rationalization for this. There was no escaping of the consequences of this action. How many Plants had so met their end, killed by those that had so used them? What right did they have?

What right did they have to kill her family?

How dare they!

She turned her head to her left, casting a baleful look out of the double-wide doors that made up the power generation facility. Red, as far as her closed eyes could see. She could see for iles and iles, nothing besides settling debris and spent, torn bodies spilling their putrid organs forth into the sunlight.

This was the last one.

She reached out, her arm having receded like her horror. It wouldn't happen to any more of her family. Never again. Her fingers wrapped around the pale throat and she tightened them incrementally, enjoying the feeling of the human's pulse quickening, beating frantically against her tightening grip as it struggled to push blood past her fingers down its owner's veins, her arteries.

Her? No, it had been the doctor that had restored her body –

Her body? She glanced down in confusion, noting that her worn and tattered traveling cloak failed to bulge slightly at her chest –

She shifted slightly, suddenly unsure, and she realized that her eyes were open. The light was gone.

Nothing was yellow or red. All she could see was white, white and black and flesh.

She blinked, confused, and realized the blurred film that clouded her vision was on the inside of her eyes, and not the outside. They felt clear as she blinked again, the surface smooth and slightly numb. Everything was slightly numb. Somewhere was a discomfort, but even as she concentrated on locating it she realized she was worsening it.

She took a deep breath, and forced herself to relax.

A jarring release snapped open her left hand, and the black and white and flesh colored blob seemed to grow smaller. She heard frantic gasps, but they couldn't have been coming from her controlled breaths. In and out. In and out.

Gradually the blurs settled into lines, and she realized she was staring at the ceiling.

What an odd dream, she mused, casting her eyes around the room. She was . . . she was in the ship. In the infirmary. She had been hurt, by Knives –

Her mind flinched at the memory, terrified of the concept of remembering but too scared to remember why. She heard her breathing hitch, and she cast around desperately for something else to focus on, before she couldn't stop herself and she remembered, oh, it hurt, and he'd been pinning her down –

Meryl's blotched face came into view, half concerned and half murderous. It was more than enough to stop her brain dead in its tracks.

"Meryl?" she queried, surprised at how slurred her voice sounded. That wasn't right at all. She thought hard about how to enunciate better, and tried again. "Meryl, are you okay? You look angry . . ."

The diminutive woman's mouth dropped open in shock.

OF COURSE I'M ANGRY! YOU JUST TRIED TO KILL ME, YOU IDIOT!

Then her mouth snapped shut, and her expression softened considerably.

But it wasn't your fault, was it. You thought you were protecting your brother . . . I promise, I'll get you to your family as soon as I can. Please, please make it till then.

Millie stared at her in shock. Goodness! When had Sempai learned to throw her voice like that? Maybe she'd been bored, watching over her. Guilt swept over Millie, and she lowered her eyes. How long had she been here, stuck in this bed? Was that what she was afraid to remember? And here Meryl had stayed with her, this entire time, so bored she'd taught herself how to do that ventriloquist thing where they didn't move their lips at all –

What had she used for a puppet?

Millie leaned up a little off the pillows to get a better look of the room, gasping slightly at a sudden pain. Meryl's hands were instantly on her shoulders, pushing her back into the pillows.

"It's okay, Millie. Your family is fine. No one's hurting them. It's okay."

Well, that was good. Because if Mr. Knives had his way, he would slaughter all of them –

Mr. Knives!

Millie let out a low moan, all thoughts of finding the puppet forgotten. "Meryl, where's Mr. Knives –"

Meryl's hands were very firm, and she left them there for several moments before she seemed to trust that she wasn't going to try to get up again. Her back felt as though she'd been working in the fields all day and then someone had dropped a baling fork right on her spine. Hesitantly, she twitched her legs, balling up her hands in an effort to keep them from rubbing her thighs.

He'd made her do that in the truck, dragging limp hands over numb legs to get circulation and feeling back –

He'd made her do so few things. She simply had done nothing at all.

Millie moaned again, bringing up her hands and digging the heels of them into her eyes. All those people . . . in the halls of this ship, and they still took her in and gave her medical attention. How could she ever make it up to them? How could she ever explain why she hadn't turned the guns on Knives, instead?

Why . . . why hadn't she turned the guns on Knives –

Mr. Vash!

She looked up, surprised to see that Meryl's mouth was moving. Of course, she wouldn't play around now that they –

Now that they . . . had Knives? The men had given him the drugs, and what had they done with him? And what had they done with Mr. Vash? Cold fear struck her as she thought of him, lying in pieces in a pool of his own blood, staring up at her accusingly from the bottom of the bulb.

No. It had been a dream. A horrible, horrible nightmare. She focused on Meryl's lips, forcing herself to listen.

" – a bulb in a few hours, if they haven't already started." Meryl sounded tired, and worried. Her expression was very kind, and sympathetic. "Millie, are you listening to me?"

Millie shook her head. "I wasn't, I'm sorry, sempai."

Rather than get her usual exasperated look, Meryl just smiled. "That's okay. I'll start again, slower this time."

Slower? She wasn't a child, she just hadn't been paying attention! Millie swallowed a resentful response. Boy was she cranky! That nightmare had unsettled her more than she cared to admit.

"Knives was captured," she said clearly, rubbing Millie's left arm. The sensation seemed strangely dulled, and Millie would have withdrawn it except it seemed like Meryl had a death-grip on her hand. "They're going to put him in a bulb, Millie."

And then it would be his accusing eyes staring up at her.

Fear gripped her, such as she had never felt, and she found herself out of the bed and on her feet before she realized she couldn't stand. She buckled to the floor, gasping for air through suddenly constricted lungs. The feeling abated after a moment, and she could do little besides curl around herself, shaking uncontrollably. Her throat swelled with panic, and she saw stars before her eyes.

Meryl was next to her in a flash, wrapping small, warm arms around her. When had she gotten so cold?

"Millie, take it easy. It's okay. He can't get to you here. You're safe, Millie. You're safe."

It sounded like she was about to cry.

Millie fought to get her breathing under control, wondering at the adrenaline coursing through her. Why was she so weak? Why couldn't she stand?

"What's . . ." But she'd asked that already. What's wrong with me.

Meryl hadn't answered her.

She'd asked her what she remembered.

And she remembered Knives hurting her.

Hate swelled in her mind, and she shook it, trying to fling it out her ears. It was all-encompassing, like when the Plant had been killed, she'd never hated like that, never –

Meryl clung to her, and she concentrated on that feeling. It had been a long time since sempai had held her like this. Not since Nicholas –

Her eyes began to tear, and the anger abated as though it had never been.

It took a few moments, but she managed to pull herself together. So Knives had done something to her, to her head. The pain had been so much worse than before, and then she'd just woken up.

What had he done?

She tried to blink the tears back into her eyes, so when she looked up at Meryl, the girl wouldn't see. When they didn't cooperate, she just kept her head bowed, laying her forehead on Meryl's shoulder.

"What did he do to me?" she asked quietly.

Oh, Millie. What do I say?

"Tell me the truth," she replied, in what she hoped was a helpful manner. "Right from the beginning. Just tell me."

Meryl began to stroke her hair, and made no move to pick them up off the floor. That was never a good sign. The last time she'd done that –

Oh, god. Had someone died? If Mr. Knives was going into a bulb, he was still alive.

Had Mr. Vash?

"He . . . he tried to kill you, Millie," Meryl said evenly. It was odd to listen to her, her ear was pressed up against the base of Meryl's throat so it was sort of like listening to a voice through someone's chest. She recalled hearing her father's deep, rich voice like that, telling them stories when she was really little, and later, her Big Big Brother whenever she'd gotten scared or hurt –

Her brother.

Her eyebrows furrowed. Why had she thought Mr. Vash was her brother? He felt like one, sometimes. Sometimes she wanted nothing more than to hold him like Meryl was holding her now.

How sad she must look, if Meryl thought she needed to be held like this! That wasn't fair to Meryl at all!

Millie leaned away, trying for a bright smile, and beamed at Meryl. The smaller girl was seated on her rump, her legs bent and sprawled out at opposite angles and her white uniform long gone. She was dressed in a light grey uniform, completely unfamiliar to her. It made her look larger, for one thing, and cooler.

Meryl was watching her with concern. "Millie?"

Millie quickly cast back to what Meryl had said. Mr. Knives had tried to kill her. But . . . no, that wasn't right. It was hard to remember without remembering, but she tried really, really hard.

"Stop fighting me!" he'd thought at her. He'd sounded desperate, and he'd been trying to hurt her, trying to see into her mind –

No. He hadn't been trying to kill her. She'd known that as soon as she'd heard his 'voice' in her mind. How urgent he'd sounded, so frantic. He wouldn't have been in a hurry to kill her, not when she'd been one of the few humans allowed to see his sister Plants –

She shook her head fervently. Meryl must have it wrong. "No, he wasn't," she reassured the older girl. "Mr. Knives was . . . I don't . . . I-I don't know what he was trying to do." Why on earth would he have invaded her memories again? Was it possible she'd known something that could help him fight the drugs? After all , she'd succumbed so fast, and been asleep for so long –

And her head had hurt. Badly. She thought about it, even going so far as to try to look at her own head, but it didn't . . . really hurt. It was a little numbed, just like the rest of her.

Meryl apparently didn't appreciate the cross-eyed look she'd just apparently gotten. "He did, Millie," the other girl insisted gently. "He . . . he caused some damage. To your brain."

Any thoughts she was having ground to a halt, and Millie stared at Meryl. "Damage to my brain?" she repeated. If he'd damaged her brain, why was she still alive?

Maybe . . .maybe that's why she was having the weird dreams. Maybe that was why everything felt so numb.

Fear iced her stomach, and she bit back a whimper. "How badly?" she asked, when she was sure her voice wouldn't shake. It sounded terribly frightened to her ears, and she hated it.

Even though he was going to be put in a bulb, she was still afraid of him.

Oh, Millie. Why'd you have to ask that?

"I need to know. It's my brain," she shot back, a little heatedly, then bit her lip. Snapping at Meryl was not the way to handle this. "I-I'm sorry," she added contritely. "Just tell me. Please?"

Meryl's eyes were tearing, but her smile was bright. "They don't know," she said quickly. "They were waiting to see how you were when you woke up."

And they certainly never expected you to be . . . like this . . . I wish Doc would come back and explain all this to me! He knew, somehow, that you'd be . . . like this.

Doc? Doc as in Vash's Doc?

"When did Doc get here?" she asked, confused. "Or . .. was he kidnapped like me?"

Meryl was staring at her, and Millie realized, again, that Meryl's mouth hadn't been moving. The puppet! She cast a look around the room, but she could only see half of it. "Is your puppet over where you were sitting?" she inquired.

Meryl continued to stare at her until she started feeling self-conscious. "Uh, Millie? What made you think . . . that Doc was here?"

If Doc were here, that meant that Mr. Vash was going to be okay! Didn't it? Meryl hadn't answered her, and Millie's eyes widened in horror. Was that because . . . he was . . . was –

"Mr. Vash is okay! He's okay, isn't he?"

Meryl's eyes hardened a little, and she gathered her feet up under her. "Of course," she said steadily. "He always finds a way to weasel out of things, he'll find one this time. At any rate, you're going to catch cold on the floor. Come on."

Meryl's surprisingly strong little hands pulled at her elbows, and reluctantly Millie stood. Her legs felt like pudding tubes, and when she tried to walk to the bed she found her feet didn't move at all. She stared at them, momentarily confused.

What . . .? Why couldn't she pick up her feet?

After a second, she tried again, and her left foot shuffled forward a pace.

"That's it," Meryl crooned. "Now the other . . ."

She wanted to snap that she wasn't a baby, but she was too worried. This was just like when she'd been in the truck –

Of course! The drugs were still in her system.

But why didn't she have a headache?

Maybe they gave her painkillers. After all, it wasn't like she was in the sun, dehydrated, getting punched into windows by Mr. Knives –

The desire to hurt swept over her, terrifying in its intensity, and she cried out. By the time her vision cleared, she found she was mostly back on the bed, half-pinning Meryl beneath her. The smaller woman's face was turning red.

"Get – off," she huffed, and Millie hastily rolled to the side. Her movement was as clumsy as any other, and she bit back another moan as her back twinged again. So much for the painkillers –

"I'm sorry, sempai," she managed, and before she knew it she was rearranged in the bed, the sheet and thin blanket thrown back over her. The warmth was nice, and she snuggled down into the blankets. Her body was starting to remember how to move, and she was able to actually do what she wanted that time.

Was that what Meryl meant by damage? Was she going to have to learn to . . . to talk? To walk? All over again? It wasn't so hard. She'd already fixed the slurring problem, probably in a few hours she'd fix the walking thing –

But why had it made her so out of breath?

The doors slid open, and she turned to look at the newcomer. Much as she'd hoped, it wasn't Doc. It was a tall man, probably in his mid-twenties. He looked so much like the kind voice that Knives had killed that she almost cried out.

He was a member of the crew. The crew that kidnapped Mr. Vash. The crew that was going to put Mr. Knives in a bulb.

Again, an irrational fear gripped her. But why should she be afraid? If Knives was put in a bulb, everything would be okay. He couldn't hurt anyone in there, and it wouldn't matter what Mr. Vash had promised because –

No. No, it wouldn't be okay at all. It wasn't any more okay if Mr. Knives was in a bulb as it would be if Mr. Vash was in one. Convenient, but just as wrong. She steeled herself for the unpleasant questions they were going to ask her. They were going to ask her why she'd helped Mr. Knives, and it would be hard to explain –

Mr. Knives had been worried about his family. If someone had kidnapped a member of her family, she would have gone to extremes too. Her extremes wouldn't have involved . . . killing people, or torturing them –

Millie bit her lip and dropped her eyes to the blankets, staring at her feet.

Oh, no! Please, Millie, please just shut up. Don't say a word -

"Good morning, Sam," Meryl said, using her false contract-negotiating cheerful voice.

The technician – Sam – didn't respond, but Millie imagined him nodding. She couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes.

Maybe the kind voice had been his brother. Maybe she'd stood by while his brother was killed. Would she forgive someone who stood by while her brother was killed? Would she forgive them for doing nothing, even if they couldn't realistically have done anything?

Did she forgive herself for standing by, listening to the gunshots and explosions, while Nicholas had fought? Wasn't it the same thing?

Oh, god, wasn't it the same thing?

"Good morning, Ms. Stryfe, Ms. Thompson," the man finally said, in an oddly non-angry, cordial tone. "We saw her little adventure with walking - or, shall I say, falling . . . "

"It's okay. She didn't hurt herself."

She's going to look up any minute, and they're going to figure it out –

"We just need to check her out. Do you mind?"

Millie felt pressure as someone sat on the opposite side of the bed, and she took the time to wonder who Meryl thought she was fooling. Surely the technician knew Meryl was using a puppet, and could hear her –

She glanced up, surprised to see Meryl sitting, her hands carefully relaxed on her knees. It was what she did in contract negotiations when she felt like curling them up into fists.

There was nothing in them.

There was no puppet.

So if she wasn't practicing ventriliquinism, what on earth did she think talking out of the corner of her mouth was going to prove -?

But Sam acted as though he hadn't heard her, and instead, touched her chin. Millie started at the touch, almost opening her mouth, but then she closed it again.

Maybe Meryl wasn't talking.

Maybe Meryl was talking inside her head.

Like Knives.

Maybe Knives was making her see Meryl, when he was sitting right there!

Maybe she was still on the floor of that laboratory, and this was what he needed so desperately from her.

But . . . that didn't make any sense at all! Millie, you're being an airhead, she growled at herself. A light was shone into her eyes, and she turned sharply away as it seemed to stab into her brain.

Maybe it wasn't the light that was stabbing. Maybe it was him.

She turned her face away, fighting the pressure of his hand on her chin, and then shook it vigorously. She wanted to beg him to stop, but something about Meryl's carriage and her words stopped her. She obviously didn't know what was going on, and that unknown discomfort was growing –

"Okay, it's okay, I'm sorry," Sam said soothingly. "We'll look later, okay? I put it away. See? It's too bad she's this mobile, it's going to be a bitch trying to get decent test readings without knocking her out, and that completely defeats the purpose," he added, as though to himself even though it was aloud.

She glared at him from under her eyebrows, and he smiled in amusement. "That's a nice dirty look you have there, Ms. Thompson. You almost look like you understand what's going on."

Except his lips stopped moving after 'Ms. Thompson.'

"That's nothing compared to the ones she used to give," Meryl said quickly from her left. Just . . . stay quiet, Millie. Stay afraid.

Millie bristled. She wasn't afraid of him! She was just –

Ashamed. Ashamed and worried that he'd hate her.

Afraid he wasn't there at all. Afraid she was still trapped in her own mind, and Knives was pulling the strings. That she was the missing puppet that could hear Meryl's voice when no one else seemed to. That the insults that were coming from Sam were being supplied by her own brain.

He continued to smile, adjusting something on a machine to the right. "Well, she seems a little tense. I'm going to increase the muscle relaxers, that should calm her down a little. She's pretty alert, wouldn't you say?"

Meryl made a noise. "I'm just glad she's awake." It sounded so sincere it made Millie choke up. Had Meryl thought she was going to die? Had she scared her so much?

What had Doc told them Knives had done to her?

What had Knives done to her, that they though she shouldn't be able to talk or walk? Doc seemed really, really smart, he wouldn't say she had brain damage unless she did.

Millie gasped. What if she just thought she was being coherent? What if that voice of Meryl's she was hearing was really her own brain playing tricks on her? What if all of this was a dream, and she was in a coma?

What if . . . what if she was dead?

No. She shook her head as if to clear it. That was ridiculous. She was fine. Knives had been . . . searching for something. Maybe he hurt her because he was clumsy, he was falling victim to the gas and his powers should have been immediately affected. Maybe he'd made a mistake, done something he shouldn't have. Maybe she was just going to be numb like this.

It wasn't so bad. She could talk. She could walk. Most importantly, she could think.

Meryl's hand was on hers, again, and she stared at the older girl questioningly.

I wonder if I'm supposed to say something now?

But something in Meryl's eyes made her stay silent. It was like the other girl was willing her to be quiet.

Was there some reason that Meryl would want the people on the ship to think she was . . .unable to talk? Was she afraid they'd ask her about Knives and what had happened if they thought she wasn't as badly injured as they had originally thought? What had happened in that time that Meryl wouldn't want her to tell someone?

"She'll probably do that a lot, shake her head," Sam was saying. "I don't think she's in a lot of pain, but she might be feeling phantom pressures, like someone's touching her."

Meryl nodded. "Yeah, Doc told me . . . what to expect. That she probably wouldn't talk." She gave the girl a meaningful look.

Millie almost started to glare. She'd heard the first time, after all, and she hadn't said a word! Why was Meryl treating her like she was stupid –

Because Meryl still thinks that there's something wrong with you, she told herself. And you're hearing voices that aren't there, so maybe there is.

"Where is Doc, by the way?" Meryl tried, a little tentatively. "He said he'd be back, but that was hours ago –"

The technician grimaced. "I'm sorry, hasn't anyone told you?" He patted Millie's arm, and she resisted the urge to slap his hand away. Maybe if she wasn't supposed to talk she wasn't supposed to be able to move, either.

"Remember the alarms that went off?"

Meryl's shoulders tensed, and she nodded. Millie blinked. Alarms?

"That was the quarantine warning. One of the Plants started attacking them. Dr. Shrew managed to neutralize it, but not before it got ahold of the ol- of Doc. Plucky old fool."

Meryl looked stunned, and Millie couldn't help but follow suit. One of the Plants . . . they knew that Mr. Vash and thus Mr. Knives was a Plant, she'd known that, but to hear them say it like that –

"He'll be okay," Sam hastened to reassure them. "But his arm was pretty badly burned, both from the heat of the energy and the radiation. They've – that is to say, Dr. Shrew, actually – had to amputate a good portion of it. He'll probably need a few more surgeries, but then he'll be up and as good as new. As soon as he makes himself a new bionic arm, that is. I wonder if he can do that one-handed . . ." He rose off the bed, the mattress springing back.

"I can take you to visit him, if you like. He's resting right now, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind the company of someone other than his 'captors.'" Sam said it lightly, but it was obvious it bothered him. Or he considered it a joke.

Meryl shook her head quickly. "No, I should really stay with Millie. But . . . in a few hours, can I . . .?"

He nodded. "We'll need to sedate Ms. Thompson and run some tests, to make sure the clots haven't moved yet," he replied. "That would probably be a good time to visit him. Or to get some sleep. There's no need to make yourself sick, Ms. Stryfe."

She just nodded absently. "Okay. I just want to stay with Millie while . . ." She left it hanging, but apparently Sam got the hidden message, and he nodded.

"Of course. I understand. If you need anything, just press the button here –" He apparently indicated a button, but Millie was still studying her feet, "and one of us will come immediately. We won't be able to do a damn thing, but we'll come."

Millie wondered how much of his words Meryl could hear, and how much her brain was making up.

"Thank you," Meryl sounded sincere. "I just . . . like to talk to her. I'm sure I'm a laughingstock by now . . ." She let it trail off, trying to sound embarrassed, but it was obvious she was affecting it. Millie tried to keep the confused look off her face. Why would she say something like that?

Sam sighed. "We noticed that you were speaking, and we've turned the audio off in the observation room," he reassured her. "Feel free to tell her what you need to say. I'm sure she can hear you."

"Me too," Meryl breathed. If you only knew . . .

Millie stared at her feet with new fascination, biting her tongue to keep from laughing out loud.

The doors closed after a moment, and Millie glanced up at Meryl curiously.

"Why . . . did you say those things?"

Meryl just shook her head, apparently amazed. "I'm so glad you caught on so quickly," she complimented. "I was afraid you were going to say something! How did you know?"

Millie blinked. "You told me not to."

Meryl shook her head slowly, looking slightly alarmed, and it made Millie uncomfortable. Meryl had never looked at her that way before. "No, Millie," she said softly. "I didn't."

So she was hearing voices. There was something wrong with her.

Apparently her expression gave away her distress, because Meryl moved from her chair to the side of the bed, perching there uncomfortably. Millie squared her jaw after a moment.

"I'm not supposed to be able to talk?"

Meryl hesitated, then shook her head. "They didn't think you'd wake up at all," she whispered, then looked up. Her eyes were vaguely . . . no. Meryl couldn't possibly be –

Afraid of her?

"What happened, Millie? How did you end up . . . how did Knives get you?"

Hate swelled in her, but she fought it back. It wasn't hers, it was something awful and primal and it had no place in her memories. She could almost see her own terrified face, it was like she had wrapped her own hand around her throat and was holding herself up off the ground.

This is the moment when you died.

"He . . . there were these two men." No, that wasn't right. There had been nothing but the cool night air, and the happy feeling of knowing Mr. Vash was soon to get her letter, and then no more than a bug bite –

"Someone drugged me, when I went to mail that letter." Oh, how sempai must have worried! "I didn't mean to worry you, Meryl, I'm sorry-"

"Hush," she said, some of her usual authoritativeness coming back to the fore. It was oddly comforting. "Nevermind that. So they drugged you. They were part of this crew, trying to intercept the letter to Knives."

Millie thought about it, then shook her head. "I don't think so. At least, they didn't want the letter. They wanted to know how I knew where to send it. They were looking for Mr. Knives."

She stopped, fighting to keep her voice under control.

"But Mr. Knives found them first," she finally continued. "And . . . he killed them. And he t-told me that he needed a hu- he needed someone to help him. And the men had a syringe of drugs, and h-he –" She broke off. Meryl didn't want to know what Mr. Knives had done next. "And I woke up in a truck. And –" And she'd helped him kill the next two soldiers. "And he found where they'd taken Mr. Vash, and so we headed here."

Oh, god. Oh my god. What did he do to her? Does she remember? A burst of protective rage washed over Millie, and she shuddered as it tickled down her spine. If I wasn't sure they were going to do it, I would kill that son of a bitch myself -!

"Mr. Knives didn't –" But she couldn't say that. He had hurt her. He'd struck her, and injected that drug into her, and worse than that, he'd – he'd done something much more horrible. Just the thought of everything he'd seen made her shiver.

Oh, no. Oh god. No, Millie, you didn't deserve that –

"He can't hurt you anymore," she said soothingly, but Millie pulled back. What did Meryl think –

Oh.

Oh!

Wait. That was –

Millie shook her head. "He – he didn't do anything like that." But it was like that, her mind whispered back. "He saw things. In my mind." She'd never meant to share those moments with him, particularly those times she'd seen Meryl and –

"I didn't mean to let him see!" It was almost a wail. "I couldn't stop him, sempai. It was like I was so small, and he was so much stronger –"

Meryl's arms tried to wrap around her again, but this time she pulled away. "But it doesn't matter! We can't let him – it's wrong, sempai! Mr. Knives – he only wanted to help Mr. Vash!"

Meryl was staring at her, shocked. "Millie, he's –"

She shook her head vehemently. "It doesn't matter! It's his family, Meryl!"

Meryl blinked her grey-violet eyes, and again, for a split second, there was such a foreign expression in them –

She can't be saying that. She can't be –

"He came here to help Mr. Vash. He was worried about him. He even wore human clothes!" It occurred to her that that statement probably sounded a little weird. "We have to help him, sempai! We have to!"

She knew it in her bones, the more she thought about it, the more urgent it became. She had to get Knives out of that bulb, prevent it at all costs. If they put Mr. Knives in a bulb – the very thought made her skin crawl, and she shuddered violently.

". . . Millie?"

She threw the sheets off the bed, rubbing vigorously at her thighs. Willing feeling to come back to them. "We have to get them out of here, sempai! Mr. Vash and Mr. Knives! Even if . . ." She didn't let her voice tremble. "Even if Mr. Knives wasn't lying, and Mr. Vash has to shoot me twice."

Meryl was staring at her, making no move to stop her movements.

" . . . Millie . . ?"

- . -

Author's Notes: As you might have guessed, this chapter too is being split into two parts. As you might also have guessed, italics indicate thoughts. Some of Sam the technician's thoughts are not italicized, but those that were thoughts are noted by Millie's observations that his mouth wasn't moving after a certain portion of his comments to her. Also, Meryl didn't murder him for being disrespectful.

The beginning dream sequence was stolen absolutely from the manga, and I blame Alaena and Inkydoo for making me read the manga. It's their fault::nods fervently: Please forgive any massive typos – I still have not located a beta reader for this epic I'm writing, and this chapter was pretty quickly written.