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The Internet was not created for children, and I see no reason to hand it to them now |
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Catalyst It wasn’t
until years later that Knives knew a name for what happened to them on the ship.
The way Steven treated them, the term for the way he beat them, maligned them.
But by then it was too late. The damage had been done.
But
the words remained. Child
abuse. Knives
wrapped his arms around his thin child’s body, whether to warm himself or
provide a comfort that would never come he couldn’t say.
Perhaps a bit of both. He
stared at his reflection, past it, seeing not his own face but another.
An altered mirror, different eyes, lighter colouring, a tiny mole beneath
his eye. But still a mirror. One
that was broken.
Knives
stared sightlessly at that mirror as the lift began its downward descent to the
medlab. Smashed. Possibly beyond repair. A tear
slid down his cheek, but he didn’t even feel it.
He closed his eyes, closed those altered mirror images, reaching out with
his mind, seeking the present and only finding the past. Even
Vash hadn’t known who had attacked him so viciously. Knives knew that. Had
seen it as it happened, the endless blows on a small, defenceless body, felt the
snapping of an arm raised in protection as if it had been his own.
Nothing but shadows and darkness, but he knew who was responsible. Steven. But
what was his word worth? There was
no proof. No sure way. Nothing but shadows, and even their investigation had
turned up nothing to seal it either way. Cell samples of both of them, but then
again it was a plant room. They were in there all the time, Steven, Vash, Knives
himself. The
Captain had shaken his head. Proof
was needed. Not just suspicions. They had their interplanetary laws, their
codes, and the most important of these was
‘Innocent until proven guilty.’
And if
there was no proof, there was no guilt. He
had tried to explain it, explain his cold logic, his reasoning, they needed
their laws, how else could they function as a group? They needed more than vague
shadow images and suspicions - that
sort of splintering could spell the end of the SEEDS project. Rumours unchecked
and unable to trust each other, their work would be destroyed.
He’d forbidden Knives from mentioning these ‘suspicions’ again. Knives
got the message. They were expendable. Steven, the trained, human plant
technician was not. And
what of Vash? Knives leaned his head against his arm, eyes opening and staring
at the metal walls as they slid soundlessly past the outside of the lift.
He
couldn’t hear him anymore! Even
more terrifying than the attack, than the sight of his injured body had been the
sudden silence in his mind. Time
and time again his mind was drawn to that void, like a tongue to a missing
tooth. The silence terrified him, the absence of that soft, wordless patter of
feelings and thoughts. Where
are you, Vash? He
wondered, staring sightlessly at his own reflection.
The
lift doors opened and he slipped soundlessly out into the darkened corridor,
pausing beside the medlab doors, jaws clenching around a helpless sob as he
thought of the lone patient inside. They
wouldn’t let him touch him, wouldn’t let him curl with him in his unnatural
sleep, wouldn’t let him hold him and soothe him, cold machines and loud voices
as he stood there through it all, a small, terrified child, held back when
he’d tried to go to his brother, tried to touch him, Rem holding him fiercely,
holding his struggles, Mary screaming to get him out and so much blood, so much,
screams of pain and outrage and he hadn’t realised that he was the one
screaming until Rem had dropped to her knees beside him, turning his face and
pressing it to her chest, holding him tightly, murmuring endless nonsensical
stupid words even as he kicked and bit at her, screaming his brother’s name
over and over until something jabbed his arm and the world went black. He hated
them, hated them all!
But they
weren’t here now, he saw as the door slid open, the bare light inside showing
a single, occupied cot and a figure curled in a nearby chair. They had all gone. Leaving
her there waiting for the end. They
thought he couldn’t hear them, couldn’t hear the hushed voices, couldn’t
see the sorrowful looks when they saw him, that he couldn’t understand the
meaning behind the hands resting on his shoulders as he stared endlessly at the
screens in his room, watching the medical bay, the way they acted, the way they
moved as if Vash was already dead. Rem was
asleep in the chair by the bed, tears still coating her cheeks, fingers lying on
the bed, still loosely encircling smaller, limp ones. They’d given up, all of them.
But he
wasn’t going to. Asleep
or gone, there was no one to stop him now, creeping silently across the floor, a
tiny, quiet shadow in his soft-soled shoes. Pausing
for a moment beside the cot, he stared up at the displays with solemn eyes.
Depressingly low, a bare breath above death, they captured him, held him
helpless. As he watched, they
dipped an almost imperceptible fraction lower. “Mary….
I really think Knives should be with his brother…” “Rem.
No. It’s too dangerous.” “Knives
is a good boy, I promise, please, just let him see him, let him see he’s all
right. I promise he won’t touch anything, he only wants to see Vash…” “Vash
isn't the one it’s dangerous for. Rem…whoever did this…. I don’t think
he’s going to make it.” A sharp
intake of breath, choked by tears. “Oh god…. is it really that bad?
Please, let me take Knives in, if it’s that bad then we have to let him
in, we have to let him say goodbye…” “
No.“ a
pause. “Dammit Rem, you know the story, that sort of psychological damage,
especially for a twin…” “And
what about me?” the
coldness in the voice had startled him, that voice professing love and peace now
shards of ice. “Is it too dangerous for me?
Will you keep me away from him too?
Are you going to leave that little boy to die all alone, or should we
jettison him now?” “Rem,
don’t make me pull rank. No. He can’t. ..Rem…REM! Come back…Dammit...”
the thud of a lone body against the wall. A quiet whisper of reflection
“..god why did they hurt the good one…” Taking off
his shoes, he clambered carefully onto the bed. He was so
hurt. So hurt, bruised skin and broken bones. Knives didn’t know where to
touch him without hurting him, stretched full length on the bed beside the
silent figure. Gradually gathering
his courage, every move slow and tender, he eased his brother into his arms,
cradling Vash’s head against his chest, holding him ever so gently, a thin,
fragile thing that could shatter like crystal at the faintest breath. … Now
he could hear him. So faint in his
mind, like a flame about to die, but there, he was there. So far away, but still
there. “I’m
sorry, Vashu…” he murmured silently, tightening his grasp almost
imperceptibly, snuggling his brother closer.
He was the one that Steven had wanted.
The one who scared them the most, the one that never behaved the
childlike way Vash did, the way they expected him to.
The solemn philosopher, the questing scientist, the brooding man, all
hidden behind a child’s liquid eyes. The
one who showed no surface for them to gain purchase on. The one they didn’t understand, and the one they really
feared from that confusion. The
‘little bastard’ that Steven had promised to make pay for showing them up on
his job. And
in the darkness of a plant room during sleep-cycle, the soft gleam of the
quiescent beings inside washing odd colours over their eyes and hair, who would
know the difference? He
should have warned them, should have said something…but the smallest sacrifice
had to be made, at any given time. Which
would they choose? Their own kind,
a plant engineer, or two unearthly monsters they feared and never understood?
And now his
brother dying, his presence barely a sigh in his mind. “So
sorry…” the tears that had been threatening for so long finally broke free
and he sobbed, every inch the child he was, the child he wasn’t, duality
captured in a single form. “..god
why did they hurt the good
one…” “Vashu…I’m
so sorry…” he clutched his brother tighter, as if by sheer physical force he
could keep the younger twin with him. It
was cold. Warm here, in this climate-controlled room, but still cold.
He huddled under the thin hospital blanket, lacing limp fingers with his
own, cuddling him, warming him. “I’m
sorry…. don’t take him…please…” he wasn’t sure who he was talking
to, some half-jumbled memory of a god Rem had told them about, the stars they
were born in, something, anything, anything that would listen. He got no answer. He didn’t
know how long they lay there, the soft pulse of twin hearts, one strong and
true, the other weak and stumbling their only companions. The lights began to dim, the energy-conserving sensors built
into the walls detecting no new movement, no need for their illumination. Dark.
Cold. Like that empty place that no longer sang in his mind, like that stone
forming in his heart. He tried to
wrap himself closer around Vash, dipping into their shared link, determined to
reach his brother in his pain, to comfort him, determined not to let him Shut
up, he’s not going to die, he can’t die alone STOP
IT! Knives
pushed deeper through the link, the familiar pathways so cold and empty to him
now. He almost fancied he could
hear the ghostly echo of his own mental footsteps echoing through the silence in
his mind. He involuntarily
repressed a shiver. This wasn’t
like the quiet solace they sought sometimes on this ship, this was different.
Colder. Dead. This silence
terrified him, made him want to run in fear. He felt
a breath of a ghost of sensation. Too low to be certain, but he was anyway. Vash… He pursued it, not on feet, not here, on wings, following it through the
darkness, deeper than they’d ever ventured before into each other’s souls,
into the power of their own. Vash…come
back…! The darkness swelled around him, solidified and he stopped dead in his
search. He was sitting on the
periphery of something, so close, he could feel it. Like an invisible barrier, a
line he shouldn’t cross. A restraint, holding him back and grounding him.
He pulled back for a moment; probed at it, the inquisitive scientist in
him taking over, examining it, body still rocking back and forth, arms twined
around his brother, mind elsewhere. They’d
never encountered this before, neither him nor Vash.
“Knives?” A human touch brought him back to himself, surfacing unwillingly from the soft flight of the mind into the heavy weight of the physical. Rem was awake now, sitting up, the lights obediently flaring back into life at her movement. She blinked for a moment in their glare, then rose to her feet. Knives gave her a bare glance, hunched around his brother, protecting him in the curve of his body. “Knives…” her voice was almost a sigh. “You shouldn’t be here…” She stroked his hair softly, offering him comfort. He didn’t shirk from the comfort, but he didn’t release his grip on his brother either. And she didn’t push the issue. She didn’t offer him lies or false reassurances either, and for that he was oddly grateful. She understood best amongst all the crew the odd dichotomy in what they were. She didn’t feed him the lies and false hopes that would suffice the child she knew he damn well wasn’t. She spoke to him like the man he was. But still, she offered gentle comfort to the child he was at the same time. “I know sweetheart….I know…” she didn’t explain what she knew, stroking his hair again and leaning against him in a clumsy embrace. He could smell the soft scent of her shampoo as wisps of long hair draped over his face. Knives thought that maybe he could understand a little why Vash loved her so much. Reaching out, Rem clasped her hand over his, giving it a small squeeze, as if offering her strength. He acknowledged the physical touch, then ignored it, dipping back into that deep black pool of the mind, probing delicately at the wall before him. It was an enigma to him, as smooth and opaque as obsidian in this landscape of the intellect. At another time it would have utterly fascinated him. Something to study, to explore. But now it was nothing but an obstacle, something to overcome, something keeping him from his brother. He measured its strength, pacing the length of it. What was this? A mental representation of Vash’s coma? More than once he tried to push through, halting again at that odd sensation, that fear buried deep in his psyche that babbled he shouldn’t pass it, shouldn’t attempt to pass it, that beyond it was something he shouldn’t ever be part of. An allegory then. A limit to his powers. Sudden fear. Did that mean Vash was beyond his reach? No! He settled himself down in this mental reality, pondering the wall before him with questioning, calculating eyes. Another touch brought him back to reality. Not the soft, almost soothing touch of Rem, but a loud, annoying voice. Mary. “Rem! What are you still doing here?” her voice was startled as the door slid shut behind her, almost dropping the padd and hypo in her hands in surprise. “It’s nearly morning! Have you been here all night?” as if drawn by a magnet, her eyes locked on Knives. “Rem, I said…” “Don’t worry.” Rem’s voice had a surprising bite of anger to it, Knives noted, drifting idly, split between puzzling out that smooth wall and the ongoings in the physical world. “I didn’t break your precious rules.” ahhh, so Vash’s angel has
horns after all…. “ – Knives came here by himself.” Pink tinged her features. “He snuck in when I fell asleep. “ her hand returned to stroking his hair. “I think he should stay. Mary, he needs to heal as much as Vash does and I really think that it might help – “ Alarms suddenly erupted through her words, cutting her off mid-breath. Startled, Knives was thrown completely back into the physical world, clutching at Vash, craning his head as one by one the monitors crashed downwards. Vash! NO! Rem was almost crushing his hand on hers, tugging at him, unknowingly echoing his thoughts. “- VASH! No! Mary, please, quickly, we have to – “ Another alarm went off, adding to the cacophony, the monitors over their heads howling a final mournful death song but Knives didn’t hear them, delving back into the realm of the mind, chasing after the wavering spark that was his brother as it was swallowed by darkness, chasing it, reaching out desperately to wrap himself around it, to bring it back or let it take it with him down the spiral to death, he didn’t care which. Life without Vash was unthinkable. Without his brother, the other half of his soul...death would be a mercy. “Leave them Rem…” he could hear Mary’s voice somewhere behind him, somewhere back in reality. “It doesn’t matter…. I’ve been expecting this….it wouldn’t be fair to…we can’t…..not any more…” her voice was choked with tears. Defeat. Resignation. Death DENIAL He dove recklessly forwards, smashing the barrier, feeling something snap in the back of his brain, dismissed, unimportant, uncaring, desperately seeking out that tiny, almost non-existent flame of life, casting around in anguish and coming up with nothing but handfuls of nothingness. A voice howled in torment and he realised dimly it was him. No
no no no no nOO!!!! He
was almost convulsing in the bed now, Vash’s body clutched desperately to him
in a grasp that should have made the younger twin protest.
“don’t take him, please don’t take don’t take him…I’m sorry
Vash, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” it rose higher, pitched in his child’s
voice but the desperate demanding growl of a man. “Don’t take him, DON’T
YOU TAKE HIM, YOU CAN’T HAVE HIM!!!” A spark bloomed in his mind, bursting into flame, a brilliant, painful fire that exploded along every nerve, searing his psyche. A sudden rush of power, like a dam bursting and he didn’t question it, used it, rode it, reaching deep into death You casting about in the endless blackness, the suffocating depths, his own body withering and dying without him and THERE! THERE HE WAS, reaching out, wrapping his mind around his brother’s, feeding him strength he could barely afford, desperately cuddling that fragile flicker to his own, embracing it, feeling it nudge weakly in response Can’t feeling hands pulling uselessly at him, the monitor screaming louder now, no longer one, but now two deaths, two lives slipping away, female screams even louder…Rem, was that Rem? Why was she pulling at him, why was she pulling him back, he couldn’t leave he couldn’t – not without Vash! Have and then he was returning, snapping back into his own body, pain screaming along every nerve ending as he fought his way back to life HIM! and hauling Vash back with him. But the pathway to reality crumbled around them even as he reached for it, and he didn’t know if he had the strength to make it… Something was
falling against his face. Wet, warm against his cheek.
Rain? He stirred against it,
drifting idly in that soft state between waking and dreaming. Was it raining in
the recreation room again? Delicate
eyelids fluttered against a china doll face.
If it was raining he would get Vash. They both liked to play in it, in
this impossibility, water falling from the sky.
They both knew the science of it, the math, but it didn’t dispel the
wonder as hands lifted up to the cascade, feeling it pool in the their palms and
trickle down their wrists, soaking their hair, their clothes, gleeful feet
paddling in the puddles forming on the ground. Another
drop, landing just below his eye, trailing down like a fake tear to rest against
the side of his nose and he wrinkled it imperceptibly. Rain. Must tell Vash… Vash! The thought brought reality and remembrance crashing back and he struggled to open his eyes. “Knives…no, please…Knives…” Rem was cradling his head, her face twisted in anguish, tears spilling down freely to patter against his face, endless prayers falling from her lips. “Please, please don’t take him god! Please don’t take both my angels away from me!” Like swimming through molasses, he forced himself to move, ignoring her glad words and hands touching him as he unclenched stiff limbs, stroking his brothers’ cheek. He’d made it back…but the question was, had Vash? He’d tried, holding on until he thought his mind would tear itself apart in the stress, but at the last instant, before he broke the line to reality he had lost his grip…. “Vash…?” it came out as a bare whisper through dry lips, panic flaring in his mind. The monitors weren’t sounding any more alerts, but all that meant was that Vash was alive. It didn’t mean he was there He felt for a mind, couldn’t focus right and panicked again at the lack of response. What if all he had brought back was a body without a mind? Nothing but a soulless zombie? Vash…he
repeated the entreaty with words, a nervous tongue darting out to lick his lips.
“Vash….” He reached out
again, hands roaming aimlessly over the body in his arms. What if he had failed?
What if it didn’t work? What if he - A soft, tender brush of a battered mind responding made his heart sing, feeling arms slowly come up to return his embrace. “…knives…?” Questioning. Confusion. The weakness in that grasp made him want to weep anew and he tightened his hold, burying his fingers in the soft blonde hair, pressing a desperately loving kiss to the bruised face. “Not too much at once, Vash, it’ll make you sick, ” she scolded gently as Vash choked a little, trying to inhale the pouch. Knives almost physically jumped, his hand clenching around his brother’s back in panic. He’d heard those words before she even said them! Vash groaned a little in response to his grip and he eased up, staring as Rem hastily put the water pouch on the end of the bed, reaching up to stroke his brother’s uninjured arm, brushing loose hair from his eyes, resting gentle fingers on his cheek. “Vash? What is it?”
So innocent. So loving. No lies. No duality. Just….Vash. |
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All Content Copyright © 2001 Taleya Joinson
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