Disclaimer in previous chapters. Please see Author's Notes at the end.
-x-
Meryl hadn't returned.
It shouldn't have bothered her as much as it did. After Vash's temper tantrum, it wasn't as if any harm could have befallen her. No invisible guard would continue to punish her for daring to mention Millie. She had free reign of the grounds, Vash had said, and there was nothing else out there to harm her.
Unless she'd encountered Knives, of course.
Elizabeth continued to pace, unconsciously rubbing her aching wrist. There were obstacles besides Carter to skirt – a kitchen table, and two chairs. Each time there was a knock, she wasn't sure how he was able to touch the doors without triggering them, and if one of them spoke it would open to reveal another table, or a large plate of actual food. The last time he had come, it had been to give them the cots they had salvaged from the ship.
Apparently Doc's idea that he and Vash swing by the servants' quarters had been well received.
But that had been a long time ago, and neither Vash, nor Doc, nor Meryl had returned. The afternoon suns were starting to leave long shadows across Carter's legs, where he was propped up against the wall. On Doc's orders he was drinking as much as he could choke down, and he looked far less pale. He was fighting nausea, that much was clear; he would have told her to sit down hours ago if opening his mouth had not been a risk.
The last time their 'house' had been this empty, the last time it had just been her and Carter, she'd-
The engineer exhaled the negative feelings, stopping in front of the meager window to stare out across a small swath of the valley. It really was beautiful; framed by the narrow window, it almost looked like a painting of Earth.
Millie Thompson had gotten her burial, at least. If everyone on the New Kennedy was dead, then Sunjy-
He was still lying where he fell.
"If we survive this, we're going back to the New Kennedy," she said aloud, trying for casual. "There are probably a few survivors and a little goodwill may get us a long way."
Aaron grunted from the floor. She supposed it was acknowledgement, but it was certainly disagreement.
She turned, giving him an arch look, and the look she received in return was stony. "Not without a security detail," he finally replied. "They won't be exactly happy to see us."
"They'll be happy to see anyone who isn't Knives." It was probable they had no idea who had locked down the ship, though of course if they had regained system access they'd eventually figure it out. Something told her the infirmary hallway footage wouldn't be high on the list.
Unless, of course, they'd ventured far enough into the ship to find Commander Grey's body.
"I'll hire some contractors." Aaron eased his weight onto his left hip. "There's plenty to salvage if they decide not to play nice."
"That will take too much time." She kept his eyes, ensuring he knew she meant business, but surprisingly, he didn't back down. And it was clear he knew what she was really getting at.
"It's already been too long. If Thompson evacuated all the air – trust me, there's not much left to bury."
She turned completely to face him, narrowing her eyes. "I wasn't asking your opinion."
At her tone he cracked a smile. "Miss Elizabeth, if we survive this, I quit."
-x-
Doc leaned back reluctantly, half because his ribs were quite painful, and half because he knew it indicated that he was finished reviewing the information marching across the flatscreens, some in real time.
"I don't suppose this data reflects only the response of Vash's cells?"
He knew as soon as he said it that it was an obvious fishing attempt. This data indicated that the cells referenced had been exposed fifty or sixty times to small injections of Plant energy. Obviously Knives had spent the better part of two days running these experiments, but he might just as easily have used his own cells as a control.
Not that he indicated in the data if he had, of course. And that in itself was telling.
"No." If Knives disapproved of the rather clumsy inquiry for further info, his voice gave no indication. "But you already knew that, old man."
Doc shrugged a shoulder, which was less painful that using both, and swiveled in the chair to face him. Knives was leaning comfortably against the bench on the opposite side of the room, arms crossed. His expression was the same as it had been when Vash had delivered him to the lab.
Closed.
Of course, Vash was long gone. He stopped speaking soon after they left Librett and his brother. He had said nothing to Knives, not even a warning or request for assurance. Doc supposed Knives had asked Vash for something, potentially about his feelings on their deal, and the only resistance Vash could show at this point was simply not answering. It might be successful in the short term, but it certainly wasn't a viable solution.
"I guessed," he admitted. "And I anticipate from your taciturn expression that we have once again reached the same conclusion."
"What conclusion is that?"
Doc suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "Come now, Knives. Haven't we passed the point of pointless games?"
The Plant's eyes flashed, perhaps with amusement . . . ? But then it was gone. "That depends on you."
Doc chuckled. Humor was certainly a better coping mechanism than the others he'd seen Knives utilize. "I suppose I earned that. But have I not yet made it up with my conduct since?"
"Your conduct since." It sounded thoughtful. "Yes, I am certain that your stop by my servant's quarters was purely philanthropic. To see you tending to his brother when it was in fact you who forced his misbehavior and subsequent punishment. I'm sure your only intent was to lessen his suffering, perhaps out of guilt?"
It shouldn't be surprising that he was keeping tabs on them – or rather, Vash, Doc realized suddenly. The real-time data behind him indicated that Vash was wearing sensors, and they were tracking his respiration, his vitals, the amount of energy his cells were consuming – and apparently his physical location in Eden, in case something went wrong and he had to be found quickly.
Knives had watched Vash interact with them, and then stop at his servants' dwelling while Doc had tried – with only moderate success – to help treat the unconscious Wright.
"The one who should feel guilty is you," Doc shot back, perhaps more sternly than he meant. "You were in need of immediate medical treatment, and I was not capable of rendering it with you aspirating your own blood."
Knives didn't move, but the reminder of his injury removed all humor from his eyes.
Doc frowned at him. "Knives, you may be older than I, and far more intelligent, but you are as much of an idiot as your brother. You refuse to see what is before you to the exact same degree that he does."
Knives leaned off the bench with no visible movement at all – he was just suddenly standing, and he dropped his arms to his sides. "I can see exactly what is before me." His voice was quiet and cold. "I see a human who will grasp at anything – including the weakest glimmer of a relationship with his jailer – in order to continue his miserable existence."
"Then these human eyes are clearer than yours," Doc growled. "Because what is sitting in front of you is an old man who truly and unreservedly wants to help you. I could have killed you the moment Wright laid you down on that examination table, and the fact that I didn't is just eating at you, isn't it. You simply cannot fathom why I did not. It's what you would have done. It's what any intelligent creature would have done, and since you asked me here to review your data you recognize at least that much."
The Plant bared his teeth in something like a smile. "Oh, so it's your relationship with me that you're clinging to? If you want to help me so badly, old man, perhaps you could start by ending the lives of your companions, to spare Vash the pain of it."
Doc would have stood himself if he could have; glowering from the stool was the best he could do. "Enabling your fear is hardly help. And don't deny it," he snapped, as Knives opened his mouth to reply,. "You are terrified of us. What Millie Thompson found in your psyche-"
That was about as far as he got before he was bent backwards over the console, with a steel cylinder beneath his chin, holding the collar of his shirt too tightly to allow him to continue. Strangely, Knives didn't look as furious as his posture would have indicated.
"Old man," he started, with a voice that was trying very convincingly to be calm, "My patience with you has run its course. Your value to me is inextricably linked to the well-being of my brother. You have just concluded that his Gate can never again become active without locking open and killing him. Therefore, he is currently as healthy as he will ever be again. What does that make you?"
Doc glared at him, then raised both his eyebrows in unspoken question. The grip on his collar was loosened enough to allow breath – and speech – and Doc took as deep a breath as he could.
"Your telepathy shouldn't be bothering you anymore – your pupils are quite responsive," he observed, his voice rough. "If you truly wanted your answers, you wouldn't be asking me for them."
Knives' eyes blazed, in a way he had only seen Vash's do during their desperate fight against Grey and Hoppard, and then he raised his left hand, which was unencumbered. Doc obediently watched, fascinated, as the Plant manifested a flat object between his index and middle finger. He flicked his forefinger, and Doc saw immediately that the object was quite sharp, really more oblong than rectangular, and it was most certainly a weapon.
His hand didn't glow at all. There was almost no other visible sign during the manifestation that Knives was anything other than human.
He knew his eyes had grown wide, and he gave the Plant a smile. "Thank you," he managed clearly around the cotton trying to strangle him. "I have never actually seen a Plant manifest something physical with . . . my . . ."
He let it trail off. Knives' summary of the data agreed with his own analysis. Vash's cells were starving for Plant energy. The injection was delivering it to them, but his cells were interpreting that as damage. The energy was welcome, the delivery mechanism was an attack. The route the Plant energy usually took was at the same time drying up, because Vash's Gate had been dormant for so long. If his cells continued to build up resistance to absorbing Plant energy via injection, and the path the energy normally took completely closed, then if Vash's Gate was ever restored, his cells wouldn't be able to absorb the energy. The Gate would respond to his need until it was depleted.
Like a balloon that someone untied, all the air would whoosh out. It would be July magnified many times. And Vash would not survive.
Yet Knives had just demonstrated a different vehicle by which Plant energy could be channeled into his cells. It had to operate a different way, because Knives had conscious control over it.
"Physical manifestation," he said abruptly. "That's it. What path does the Gate energy take to enable it?"
The furious Plant stared at him, eyes narrow, and Doc realized belatedly that Knives would assume he wanted that information as a means of depriving Knives himself of the ability. "Dammit, Knives, if you can't or won't read my mind, then accept what I am telling you!"
"Vash refuses physical changes." It was clipped and angry. "What did she tell you?"
It took him a moment to figure out, and Knives never blinked.
He meant Millie Thompson.
"Nothing you couldn't guess." He was still angry himself. "She worried about you. She said you were a little boy living alone in a terrible city. That you were frightened and angry. And you have every right to be."
That didn't seem to be what Knives expected to hear, because his lips twisted as they tried to form two sentences at once. Eventually his mouth and brain agreed on a response. "The human detritus was incorrect."
"Was she?" Doc adjusted his throat in Knives' grasp, but the collar didn't loosen. "Knives . . . what happened to you was a terrible thing. Truly. I know you see this as proof that the Great Fall was necessary for your survival – but make no mistake, the humans won. They incapacitated you and your brother. By all rights you should be dead, by their hands or by ours."
Knives did not release him, his teeth bared, and Doc plowed ahead before he could be interrupted. "Yet you live, Knives. And you live not because of your superiority, or your intellect, or your abilities as a Plant. It is fact that you enabled Millie Thompson to do what she did, but you did not control her. And it burns you. You dismiss it as sentimentalism, but as much as you influenced that poor young woman to become a murderer, she influenced you in turn."
Abruptly his collar tightened, and Doc found himself clearing the tabletop at a rather high speed. Something glass shattered on his right elbow, but he felt no cut, and then there was the sense of falling before landing – hard – on the floor beside his upset stool.
The ribs throbbed, red and hot, and Doc shifted so that he was not putting as much pressure on them, straining to look up. Knives was still facing the console – and the truth of what had become of his brother – and the blade was embedded deep in the keyboard, where it conducted electrical current in a brilliant blue.
"Look into my mind." He said it gently, though he meant it as a challenge. "You'll find fear. You'll find hatred for what you and yours have done to those I hold dear. But you will also find compassion. You will find understanding. And you will find hope. Hope that Vash's way is the right way. Hope that Plants and humans can coexist, even if right now we're doing so poorly at it. Everyone has the right to live, Knives. Even you."
"It's not my life that should concern you," the Plant snarled, but it seemed an automatic response. He was staring at the blade he had created, as if he couldn't quite figure out how it got into the keyboard.
There was a heavy silence. "Have you told Vash?"
The Plant closed his eyes, rage rendering him almost unrecognizable.
"You need to. He has been terribly hurt. Help him. He's in enough pain, Knives. For once, be part of his recovery."
It seemed he found the boundary of Knives' new patience, because the man turned on him immediately. "Do not speak of that which you do not know!"
There was the impression of something flying at his face, and then nothing.
-x-
Her stomach rumbled, reminding her pointedly that she had paid it no attention at all, and she patted it absently.
"Sorry." And she meant it. "Guess I've been hard on you lately, huh."
The growl ended in a wet burble, and Meryl smiled at herself. Yes, that was the silver lining. That she hadn't had to take up their tiny bathroom with a battle against indigestion.
It sounded like something Millie would point out.
"I'm going to miss you," she admitted. "Every time I see a pudding, I'm going to think of you." Or Ceylon tea. Or a typewriter.
Or the Bernardelli handbook.
Her smile grew tremulous, and Meryl wiped her face for the thousandth time. "I should go. I'm sure I'm worrying the others."
Some of them, anyway. She wondered if Vash had figured out that the servants had bitchified Elizabeth, and made them undo it yet. Of course, she'd shown plenty of patience with him.
But she hadn't shamelessly hit on him, her mind pointed out, a little sluggishly. That was different.
It was kind of hard to flirt with someone with Doc in the room, though. He was like everyone's grandfather. Everyone's tiny bald grandfather, with a cranium that seemed just a little too big to be normal. She wondered if he'd managed to avoid telling Vash about his arm.
Not that it would be a secret forever.
Meryl leaned forward, stretching her back and her hamstrings carefully before trying to stand. She'd pulled all the same muscles that had been pulled when they'd first arrived, and sitting all afternoon had made her stiff. She rotated her head gently on her shoulders, and that was when she realized that she hadn't been sitting all alone after all.
It wasn't Millie's presence she'd been feeling. It was one of the Plants.
"Sorry," she said automatically, ruefully stepping aside as the Plant slowly lowered herself from the treebranch. She was using a pair of legs that weren't quite formed enough to walk on, and it occurred to Meryl that even though she had three pairs, there was nothing insect-like about her. Once Meryl had given her enough space, she laid her weight down against the tree, reclining in a position that was eerily like the one Meryl had just picked herself out of.
Like when they'd been wearing Millie's expression. Like when they'd copied what Millie was saying.
She suddenly found herself hoping, irrationally, that Knives or Vash found a female servant to keep around the place. If all these poor Plants had to mimic were Vash and Knives, they were in deep trouble as far as ever fitting in was concerned.
But that was silly. Plants weren't meant to fit in with humans. That was the whole point of Eden.
Meryl gave the Plant a smile – and did not receive one in return – and gave her some space, turning back in the direction of the clearing. Surprisingly, there was a second Plant on the other side of the tree, curled up on the ground beside –
Beside unmarred earth and grass. There was no sign at all of the grave, not even a slight grade in the dirt.
Meryl couldn't help a small gasp, blinking repeatedly. This was the same tree, wasn't it? But there was no doubt. When she had come here this morning, the grave had been there. Now it was like it had never been.
Meryl backed away another few steps, brushing into a spider's web, and she yelped – and jumped about three feet – when she realized it was hair. Another Plant sister was hanging from her knees from the branch above, and her hair trailed after Meryl's scrambling retreat like it had a static charge.
Meryl spun in a short little circle, backing now towards the woods, and the Plant sister that had taken her place against the trunk cocked her head, her glowing eyes lidless and fixed on her.
And then the Plant frowned.
Meryl licked her lips, glancing behind herself quickly just to make sure she really did still have an avenue of escape. They were just curious, it wasn't a human frown to express disapproval – she could not have looked more disapproving if she'd been Meryl's own grandmother – it was probably the frown on her own face, so Meryl tried smiling again, but this time she was pretty sure all she managed was a simper.
The Plant sister continued to frown. And then floated off the earth with half a flap of two pairs of wings.
Meryl didn't even stop to think. She turned and she sprinted in the opposite direction.
Somehow she must have upset them. Maybe it was thinking about Knives and Vash like that, of course they were fond of them, they were family, weren't they? Maybe she'd made too much noise.
But where had the grave gone? Was . . . Millie . . .
Had they done something with Millie's body?
Had they . . . brought her back?
Branches whipped at her face, and Meryl ducked, indescribably glad for her as she tore between the smaller trees and shrubs. Leaves that had been so flat and soft and delicate at a walking pace now sliced at her uniform like knives, and Meryl couldn't help a yelp of surprise when another Plant leaned out from behind a stout tree like it was a bulb base.
She broke right, ducking under some low branches, and a dazzling glowing feather drifted through the shadows, just in front of her. Meryl ducked down further, dashing into the lower brush in the hopes they were too big to follow.
The grasses were taller than she was, and the prickly bushes grabbed at her like tiny fingers. Meryl put her arms to the side of her head and barreled through, in what she hoped was a straight line, guarding her face and straining to hear anything over her own panting. They wouldn't come in here, the leaves would tear their tender bodies to pieces.
And then she stopped, abruptly, and Meryl realized she had no idea where she was.
Tall, green reedy grasses stood around her in all directions. The trees, with their trunks now only as thick as her wrist, were still heavily leafed, and she could no longer see the tops of the larger trees. An enormous, emerald green grasshopper leapt up from somewhere near her feet, and Meryl bit back an eep and hugged her arms to her chest, stumbling in a small circle.
She had no idea where to go. There wasn't even any evidence of which direction she'd come from; the grasses had closed behind her and they all waved gently, as if a breeze was toying with them.
Only there was no breeze. The air was deathly still.
Almost too terrified to move, Meryl forced herself to look up.
They had formed a circle above her, their limbs entwined and glowing brightly enough to burn any shadow. They grew larger, or maybe closer, and Meryl whimpered and dropped into the tiniest ball she could, covering her head.
Oh please don't, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!
"I'm sorry!" she cried out, and one of them snaked a limb around her stomach.
"Geez, short stuff, not so loud!"
She fought the pressure trying to put her back on her feet, keeping her knees folded and using all of her miniscule weight to keep herself on the ground, and then there was a very masculine – and irritated – grunt, directly in her ear.
"You're heavier than you look. You getting fat, insurance girl?"
She stopped struggling just enough to catch the scent of a cigarette, and then she was swept off the ground almost effortlessly before being set none-too-gently on her feet. The manhandling reminded her muscles they were still sore, but it didn't stop her from flailing wildly until it occurred to her that she wasn't actually hitting anything.
At some point in time, she'd screwed her eyes shut, and she didn't have the courage to open them. Because this was impossible.
She was dreaming, Or hallucinating as she died from Plant radiation. They were pretty much the same thing.
There was a snort. "Good to see you too," the voice drawled.
She was almost afraid to breathe, afraid of what might be in the air, but she couldn't hold her breath forever, and she tried to take in as little as possible. "Is this it?"
"You mean, are you dead?" The voice took a drag on the cigarette, letting the weight of its chest push the smoke back out. She tried not to breathe any of it in. "You wanna be?"
Just the kind of question a priest would ask. And of course not; she disapproved of suicide as a general rule. Not that she was sure this was suicide. "Have you . . . have you really been there?"
"What do you think?"
"I think th-that I deserve a straight answer!" She clenched her jaw and denied any other sound to leave her throat, denied the water in her eyes. "Just tell me what to do already! I don't know!"
A throaty chuckle. "I doubt that. I've never met a girl as bossy as you. You can even manage our favorite needle noggin', not sure what's holding you up."
Meryl screwed up her face even more, if it was possible, and her foot itched to stomp. "I'm not bossy!"
"Okay, fine. You're the boss."
Somehow the Plants had managed to absorb how irritating Wolfwood could be.
"Is . . . is Millie . . ." But then she bit her lip. Of course Millie was in heaven. It wasn't like she had intentionally killed those people. No God could punish her for that.
"Is the big girl here?" She could hear the insufferable smirk on his voice. "I guess you're just going to have to open your eyes and find out for yourself."
Meryl hesitated, afraid, and she heard Wolfwood sigh. "You're more trouble than a barrel of demons, you know that?"
-x-
His brother was watching him, his unspoken question prominently displayed in his eyes, and Knives ignored him, glancing past him at the bulb. Fron was still there, the monitors showed she hadn't left the bulb in over twenty-four hours. She seemed to be completely inactive, though he felt a sleepy brush against his shields.
When had he put them up? Knives forced himself to relax, returning her greeting. She didn't respond other than to send an absent sense of recognition, and he touched the console, checking her health.
There didn't seem to be any unusual dips. It didn't seem like the energy she had given to Vash had depleted her, or that she had fallen into a reconstructive phase . . . she was simply inactive. As was her prerogative.
Vash didn't touch the glass, and his refusal spoke louder than his thoughts. She doesn't want to do this today, and I'm not going to make her. As altruistic as it was idiotic. Still, his brother did have a point. If he forced them to help Vash, then Vash was well and truly human, and he was no better.
He probed her mind, a bit more directly, and she gave him the impression of irritation. Do you feel unwell? returned a more ambiguous response. He interpreted it as crabby.
Vash was still able to walk and talk, having not yet burned through the energy that Fron had given him the day before, and the less frequently he required injections, the longer the amount of time they could try to force his Gate without passing the point of no return. Once his cells built up a certain level of resistance, he would need to go back into his brother's mind and permanently entomb that faceless, weightless, lightless block on Vash's Gate.
Until then, they should probably begin working on that particular problem once again. Maybe now that Vash was truly awake, he might be convinced to honestly try to remember what he had done to himself. The idiot constantly used his powers without understanding anything about them, so perhaps he should put his faith in that.
Of course, it would be relatively difficult to do without talking.
Knives stifled his own irritation, sinking the console back into the Sanctuary wall as his brother left Fron's bulb, looking down the aisle at the others. Pelu was resident, as was Jain, but there was no sign of Nidi or the others. Their sister who had yet to choose a name was also in her bulb, though she was active, watching them with more interest than he would have expected.
He sent her a greeting, which she staunchly ignored, as was her custom. She hadn't spoken to him since the humans had gassed him. He suspected she was deeply distrustful of this change, and she had not yet fully recovered from her trip across the desert. She was far older and more scarred than the others, and he had already accepted that she might never adjust to freedom.
Even if she never set limb outside of a bulb, he would make sure she was safe and comfortable.
Vash reached out thready telepathy to each of them in turn, and then headed back towards the main elevator without a word. Knives considered calling him back, then thought better of it. He didn't want this to become a battle of wills.
With no shields, he could feel everything Vash was thinking. Everything that Vash had hidden from him, even when their telepathic bond was strong. Vash had always been better with his empathy.
Just beneath that thin veil of cheerfulness was shame. Despair. Regret. Exhaustion that was more than bone deep, more than just the loss of his Gate. When Vash had given up in his dreams, there had been a taste. Now it soaked his mind.
No matter how long it took him to speak, Vash had acknowledged, perhaps only to himself, that he was wrong.
And that was enough. For now.
There was motion, from the ceiling of the cavern, and Knives glanced up into the darkness, unsurprised to see one of their sisters, lightless, clinging to the rocks. She descended silently, masking her thoughts from him, and only when she was within a yarz or two did Vash also sense motion. Far too late; she spread her wings to land silently just behind him, and as he spun in surprise, she allowed herself to glow, declaring herself to him.
It was Aliya, and clearly it was a game.
Vash got over his startlement quickly, grinning at her, and she reached up her dominant hand – and ran it through his hair.
Knives watched her, as fascinated as she was as she did it again. The effect on Vash was equally surprising; his grin faded instantly, his breath catching. He got that same damnable hollow look as he had when he thought about Rem, and Aliya hesitated before she did it again.
Vash caught her hand with his own, stopping her, and Knives could almost taste his anguish. A quick scan of his mind revealed-
Fingers, working to the roots of his hair. Just the way Rem used to do when she had to wake him up.
His eyes half-opened automatically, tired and dry and scratchy. He must have fallen asleep crying, why-
Legato's smile. His eyes were closed, but he was still smiling-
"Good morning, Mr, Vash," she said shyly, and stroked his hair. She was sitting on the bed at his shoulder, smile firmly in place. "Sempai had to go to the tavern early, so I'm going to make your breakfast today. I think today will be much better than yesterday, don't you?"
Knives narrowed his eyes, even as Aliya raised a second hand, one Vash could not block, and repeated the gesture.
She repeated it perfectly. It felt exactly the same to Vash as the touch of the human. But it did not bring with it the echo of comfort that the human's touch had. Vash was staring at her, weeping. His knuckles were white, though Knives could see he wasn't hurting her. It seemed to be for balance, because in the next moment Vash fell to his knees, stricken.
Aliya, too, seemed perplexed. This was clearly not the response she had expected. She examined him a moment, though he could tell his brother was probably going to snivel there on the ground for a while. And then she knelt, like a human, and wrapped a pair of arms around him, laying her face against his hair.
Her wings curled up and around them, completely enveloping them, and she began to glow more brightly.
Knives heard his brother sobbing, but it didn't seem to be from pain. He observed them for a moment, then strode over to a console and brought up the monitor in his lab. The sensors he'd attached to his brother were still dutifully responding, and they showed him that energy transfer was taking place, much more gently than with Fron.
Aliya curled around his brother, and from inside the glowing pile of Plant, he heard Vash wail.
-x-
Author's Notes: So, there was sort of movement . . . maybe . . . believe it or not, we're very close to the end. I guesstimate I'll wrap up in six chapters. Aha, six chapters . . . anyone who read the PAA series will start laughing at this point, because I'm never anywhere close, but that's what I have plotted. There will be significant motion in the next three chapters, and then we'll finally find out what's going to happen to our humans – and their favorite Plant. Thanks for staying tuned while I finish this beast!