Disclaimer: I don't own shit

Catalyst
By Taleya

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 is 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 huddles 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.

...to be continued.....