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Theme: "3. jolt!"
Title: "Catalysts"
Fandom: Trigun
Pairing: Knives x Vash
Word count: 3766
Rating: Not worksafe
Warnings: Lemon, violence, angst, spoilers for both universes, slight AU in how the cores awaken
(i.e. I still haven't gotten to that point in the manga for financial reasons and I can't write Bill
Conrad. I'm choosing the lesser evil of slight AU over the worse of mangling Conrad's
characterization.) I also want to warn for squick. The scene, when you see it, is not meant as
scat, but as realism and cruel!Knives being degrading.
Credits: Many thanks to lilithisbitter for the episode 26 sub script for the Angel Arms scene and for
beta help.
Summary: Fifteen years after their journey began, Knives creates the fateful guns and introduces
Vash to their true power as Plant Angels.


"Catalysts"


It had been fifteen years, fifteen long, painful years for both twins, as they had
watched the human civilization cling as tenaciously to life as themselves despite all odds and
despite Knives's occasional murders.

They survived at first by posing as humans and getting registered in each new
settlement as temporary residents, then, in their fifth year of life, they had found a sole,
untouched ship resting in the middle of the desert. Vash had cried more than he ever had before
when he had entered the password for the entry to the ship, and Knives had only found out why
later: the ship was supposed to have been Rem's home, also their own.

Nevertheless, they had settled in soon after, and those years had been among
the happiest of the younger twin's life. The ship provided food, shelter, consistent temperature,
and even company from his and Knives' two older sisters in the generation bulbs. It also provided
a way for him to pretend that Rem was still alive somehow, living there in the place she would
have lived.

The solitude and the company of the sisters had apparently calmed Knives's
tortured mind somewhat, as the elder twin spent most of his time in their presence now, and
Vash hadn't even seen him for a year. The passing of puberty years before and the adjustment to
that first opening of the Plant cores brought on by it also worked to calm both somewhat in every
way: both were now more interested in hobbies, in learning, in almost everything besides each
other aside from when one or the other's needs became simply too much.

Knives had insisted, over those years, in teaching Vash how to use a gun, and
Vash had finally acquiesced to his demands back when they were five and an entire town had
pursued them with firearms. He had to admit that, as the years went on, that he liked the
technical side of shooting: calculating the angles for the perfect shot, modifying the starter pistol,
then the revolver he used, to fire more efficiently, and as time passed, becoming good enough to
hit two targets in a half-second, then three in the same half-second.

It wasn't only he that practiced shooting: Knives also did, and usually at the
same time. The elder twin's practice, though, was chilling: he seemingly cared much more for the
results than the technical side, often drawing crude faces on the human-shaped targets he chose
to use, firing all shots at the head or chest of the target, occasionally placing red fruits such as
tomatoes behind the targets, and laughing as the "blood" splattered the target.

What was most frightening to Vash had been his own reactions when Knives
had forced him to practice the same way once when they were ten chronological years of age: he
too had laughed, almost cackling as the bullets hit their mark. He had later attempted to convince
himself he didn't share Knives's sadism, that he only laughed at the sight of the paper target
shredding to expose a red melon of some sort, but he knew somewhere within that he was
capable of the very same acts his twin was.

Yet, he decided to deny that he had that capacity, as the years went on,
because he wasn't like Knives. He believed Rem, in her ideas, in her love, in her, when Knives
believed only in killing. He wasn't like Knives. . .

Was he?

ooo

The bulb sister cooed as she almost mockingly dangled the twin guns in one
hand, each hanging on a long, slender finger by the trigger.

"Why the weapons must be in the shape of guns," she giggled as she moved
about in her bulb, "Is that your arms are quite like cannons. If you used swordies or spearies
instead, you'd be unable to fire and simply burn burn burn up."

Knives gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the babble. For as helpful as his
sisters were in wanting their freedom, they were also at the mental level of young children,
having been bred as such in the humans' vain hopes they would not want to escape the bulbs. In
his darker moments, he wondered if they could ever live freely, if they could ever be anything but
slaves to himself and his brother rather than the humans.

No, he had always reassured himself. Even if they can't be trusted to freedom,
Vash and I will be kinder masters to them than the spiders.

"Oopsie, you didn't solve my puzzle," the sister cooed, glaring at the freeborn
sitting before her. "See what happens when you don't fo-cus? That a new word, Rude One teach
me."

"I'm not rude! My name is Rue One," the other sister snapped.


The platinum-haired twin sighed after around an hour of fighting. "If you'll stop
and help me again, I'll give you both ten sugar cubes."

"Soak them," the sister whimpered.

"She means in brandy," the other sister helpfully added.

"All right," Knives whispered.

"Ooooooh, Knivesuuuu. . . thank youuuuuu," both started chanting.

"Silence! I'm taking away one cube for each minute you two don't hush."

ooo

It was the day before the twins' fifteenth chronological birthday when Knives
finally received the guns the sister had made for himself and Vash. Both guns were in many ways
the same weapon, but for some reason the second gun had finished the sister's and Knives's
forging process its original brilliant silver rather than solid black.

"Why did you do that," he snapped, feeling suddenly enraged, attempting to
deny the rage he felt was focused on his sister Plant, but rather at humanity and the fear both
weapons wouldn't work. I love my sisters. I love Vash. I hate these insects that threaten our lives.

"Silver is pretty shiny," Rue One giggled, moving about in her bulb. "Besides,
same is no fun. So show Vashu today? I think he like like a shiny pretty."

Knives glared at the bulb, growling. "I am never giving you Sand again."

The sister's screech could be heard throughout the compound, even rousing
Vash from his sleep for a moment.

"It is for your own good. You won't hurt now that you're out of hot limit."

ooo

As much as Vash hated to admit it, the year of being absolutely alone except for
his brother, who was rarely even there, was slowly driving him insane. At first, he presumed that
his sisters would talk to him after the fight they had the first day he had arrived, that Knives
would spend all of his time with him.

I should know, he whispered bitterly to himself. For all Knives says about the
superiority of our race, we can hold a grudge longer than anyone. Rose Five still wants to kill her Earth
keepers, from two hundred years ago and who have died long ago.

Keeping himself busy had worked only for a little while to distract him from the
need for contact, for attention, for anything other than day after day of silent misery. He'd almost
made a science of perfecting the routine to fill every moment: wake up, exercise for around an
hour, eat, shower, exercise some more, practice shooting, eat lunch, read things from the library.

Nevertheless, the routine had unraveled after around eleven months, and all
he had done for the last two months, as soon as Knives would leave for the engine room, was the
bare minimum to keep himself alive. The rest of the time, he merely rocked back and forth in a
corner of the ship, crying unintelligibly, begging his sisters and Knives to hear him, or at the least
take his life.

It's like a prison, he thought, as he walked in circles yet another day. I wish I
was never born. I'd do anything if you'd only come back. You've been gone for a week now, a week.
Please come back.

ooo

Linosyris Nine, the other Plant in the ship, reached an ethereal hand through
the glass of the bulb to awaken Knives from his sleep.

"Hush, Knivesuuuu. Don't tell Rue One, please please."

Twin guns dropped from the bulb.

Knives took both, smiling at the sister looming above him, then climbing the
ladder and dropping thirty sugar cubes soaked in brandy into the port for the bulb. "Why were
you teasing me, making me do all of the puzzles and answer those inane riddles?"

"Because," Nine cooed. "Now you have them."

Never ask a bulb sister for an answer that makes sense, Knives thought as he
picked up the guns, as warmth surged through his body. "You made these with your cherubim."

"Yes yes I did," she whispered. "They are your sisters, a part of me and Rue."

"They aren't sentient," Knives said, primarily to himself, as he cradled both
weapons in his hands. "Nevertheless, holding them makes me feel so hot."

The bulb reverberated with giggles. "It's a lot like the dance," the old Plant
whispered, using the term bulb Plants used to refer to mating.

"Speaking of that," Knives whispered, as he laid both guns on the table, then
looked up at his sister pleadingly, "Can you help Vash and I learn a few new steps? I want to
start out as kind as you and Rue are to each other. . ."

"See that you do," she said, unaware of the nuances of Knives's words,
unaware that the elder twin only wanted to use kindness as a manipulation, that he wanted a
willing, broken slave rather than an equal lover, unaware that his and Vash's idea of "foreplay"
was already closer to a violent, near-sadistic struggle for power than to love, having developed as
such over their years together, in the intensity of emotions that could be love one moment and
hate the next.

Maybe Linosyris Nine wasn't as unaware as Knives believed. Maybe the bulb's
instructions for Knives to access the library and her provision of both a vial of an evacuant and an
amphora of oil were out of resignation, of even her limited mind understanding the damage the
twins could cause to each other with no or little knowledge of their bodies and of the act itself.

Nevertheless, before leaving the ship's generation room for what would be the
last time, Millions Knives dropped fifty whiskey soaked sugar cubes into each of the bulbs.

Neither Rue One nor Linosyris Nine would awaken for a week.

ooo

Vash gave his twin an odd look as they snuggled together on the small couch,
talking, attempting to make up for the lost week. "Why are you being so nice?"

"Because I realize I haven't been here for you, brother," Knives said soothingly,
all the while smoothing Vash's hair down from the spiked style he so hated. "I've been neglecting
you, now, haven't I?"

So you finally admit it, Vash thought as Knives moved away a second to pour
both another glass of wine. "Yes. You have. So are you finally going to care about me again? Or
did you fall in love with one of those spoiled girls?"

Knives laughed, realizing Vash was finally beginning to show the effects of the
wine, noticing an opportunity to nurture the possessiveness he wanted to be inherent in their
relationship. "No. I was asking them to make us our birthday presents. How could you even think
I'd ever leave you, Vashu? You're my brother, my only love, and I'll say it until you understand it."

The golden blonde twin shifted uncomfortably. It's like you want to own me. But
if ownership is love, I can own you too, he thought, resting his head on Knives's chest once more.

Almost as if he had read Vash's thoughts, Knives flinched. "I wanted to tell you
I decided on something while I was alone," the elder twin said. "There's a saying in the old Earth
proverbs that too many captains steer a boat ashore."

"I don't understand you, Knives."

"It's simple, the law of all nature, of which we are the highest examples. There
has to be someone who takes on the responsibility and someone who is spoken for, a lover and
beloved."

Vash blinked, not believing he was hearing those words come from Knives's lips.
"No. Rem said that if people took possession of each other, that was diminishing one of the
people involved and selfish, that it led to bad things."

"Just for tonight," Knives lied. "We can go back to the old way if you want, but
for tonight, you are mine in every sense of the word. Don't worry so much. It's more of a burden
on me than it is on you. You get to lie back and enjoy everything from now on, you don't have to
worry about the decisions. . ."

"All right, but only for tonight." I don't want him to leave again. I don't want to
fight with him and Rem told me to take care of him and-

Knives kissed him ferociously, then took his hand, leading him to their bedroom,
looking into his eyes. You've not betrayed me yet, the older twin mentally whispered.

ooo

The ceiling was a dull, dark metal. That was one of Vash's sharpest memories,
looking up at those cold panels, attempting to distract himself from just how uncomfortable and
nervous he was lying there in the position Knives had demanded, on his back with his ankles
behind his neck. You said you wanted to look into my eyes, but couldn't there be an easier way than
this?

Knives did exactly that as they kissed once more. /Don't look away, /the mental
hiss reverberating through his mind echoed. Don't look at what I'm doing. Look into my eyes. Kiss
harder and you won't even notice.

Vash blinked. Notice what, he asked as he felt something thin and plastic
pushing into the exposed entrance, screaming inwardly and biting into Knives's lip at the inflow of
fluid and the shuddering cramps that almost immediately followed. No! Are you trying to kill me?

Nothing of the sort, Knives had laughed. Go relieve yourself now.

The next thing Vash remembered was his twin's mocking laugh and the feeling
of absolute humiliation as he pushed the bedpan aside. Why? That hurt so much.

Because, Knives said, attempting to keep the calm tone he always used in their
mindspeech, I do not want to soil my body with your wastes. Besides, I wanted to test you, to see if
you trusted me enough to do anything for you.

Only later would Vash learn that he had been the victim of a strategy of
manipulation, one planned to leave him as weak and as conquerable as was possible, that the
roughness and humiliation inherent in Knives's taking control in such a way, and the watching,
laughing, mocking had all been a part of that strategy.

ooo

He lay there again, back in the uncomfortable position he had been in moments
before Knives had roughly given him what he had later realized was an enema.

Knives opened the bottle of oil, slowly, deliberately smoothing it over his hands,
then rubbing his twin's phallus with both. /This is how it feels. A little cold, but it won't hurt you, /he
said, smirking as Vash squirmed against him.

Sighing with pleasure and a slight bit of relief, Vash leaned into the caresses,
envisioning Rem rather than Knives. So we're only doing what we've done every week since fourteen
years ago. Why all the bother over it?

Actually, we aren't. /Now relax. . ./

He gasped slightly as Knives's finger slid deeper inside his opening, the gasps
turning into moans as his twin touched places that felt good, more than good. Wow. Knives. Why
did we never do this before?

I was saving it for you, along with what is in the room next door. Tomorrow we will
see those. Tonight, I will make you mine, Knives managed, the direct mental speech being the only
communication he was capable of by this point.

Vash only moaned in reply. He somewhat felt Knives's fingers stretching him,
the sensation of cold air on exposed flesh, but it all was beginning to seem almost as if he was
standing from the outside, watching it all, now he was riding Knives, screaming in a mixture of
pain and pleasure.

We're almost there.

His fingernails dug into Knives's hips as the warmth burned through his body,
reaching his fingers and toes as a curtain of sparkles descended over his vision, as he faintly felt
hot fluid splattering onto his chest.

Then he passed out, his last memory of that night being Knives somehow
pulling him out of the awkward position he had been in for much of it, as he had apparently been
too stunned to even think of sitting up or rolling over to sleep.

ooo

Pain was the first sensation Vash was most aware of on awakening. The dull
throbbing headache from the hangover, the muscle aches from holding a position he wasn't used
to for so long, the sharp gas pains every few minutes, and the stabbing, ripping pain in his nether
regions that made him terrified of the idea of sitting, much less walking about or dressing.

"Happy belated birthday, brother," Knives whispered audibly, kissing him softly
on the lips. "C'mon, sit up, it's already five in the morning. I was thinking we could eat and take a
walk around, we haven't left this ship in a month."

"Hurts. Let me sleep."

"No, I have our special gift, remember?" Knives said in a half-soothing, half-mocking tone, as he helped his twin to his feet. "It will hurt less if you get up and eat and move
around, you know."

Vash winced as the sunlight from the window illuminated the small puddle of
blood that had dried where he had lain. "Maybe you did something wrong?"

"You squirmed too much. Also, you didn't ask for more oil. Looks like you were
weaker and needed such a sop. Maybe I should have given you one of our old pacifiers to bite
into, no?"

"I didn't know anything about what you were doing," he protested, pulling a
ragged cloak over his clothes, wanting to hide any blood that soaked through his suit. "I don't
want to eat. Let's just walk, maybe you're right."

ooo

The twins walked wordlessly through the desert surrounding the ship, arriving
at a cliff several iles away by noon. Both paused for a drink of the water they had brought along,
then Knives stood and began to walk up the hill.

"Knives, now what are you doing?" Vash asked, startled, noticing the look of
absolute contentment on his brother's face as he slowly drew a black gun from his own cloak,
then appeared to concentrate, breathing heavily, as his arm began to swell and change form into
a huge, glowing light cannon and as a choked moan escaped his throat.

So much better than last night, Vashu. . .

The younger twin had no idea what was going on aside from that mental
whisper, nevertheless instinctively throwing up his hands to shield his eyes as Knives, his arm
cannon crackling with jolts of power, fired a massive blast of light, which exploded in the desert a
moment later, turning the sky red and sending a shimmering white glow over the horizon.

Knives, seemingly stunned, took a moment to recover, not trusting his own
voice as he said the words. "Only a fifteen percent output. Well, that's the best we can get." Only
his twin caught the almost maniacal, near-incoherent burst of swearing and screaming at Rue One
and Linosyris Nine that reverberated through his mind.

Vash trembled with fear as he saw the other gun. "What are those?"

"These are our new siblings. And this one is yours."

He stared for a moment, AGL Arms Long Colt 45, but what is this? I don't want to
carry a nuclear bomb on me! That's what this looks like, are those bombs that destroyed so much of
Rem's home planet! Nevertheless, she wouldn't want me leaving these with him and I don't want him
having both, but I can't do this, but maybe I can, no I can't, the thoughts in his mind whirled about
like so much debris from the explosion. Then, he shoved the gun away. "I'm not going to use it!"

Knives slammed the gun back at his chest hard enough to crack his ribs,
snarling. "Yes, you will!"

/So he was playing me for a fool all along! /Vash glared, his courage fueled by
anger, no, /rage/, and disappointment. "Never!"

"Then why did you follow me in the first place? It's because you're pathetic on
your own, isn't that right?"

No. I can't believe this. I thought he loved me. I thought I let him have whatever
he wanted because we loved each other. No.

"Very well, watch me then," Knives said, his face reflecting an equal amount of
anger.

"No." Vash lunged for him, falling to the ground, wrestling with his brother,
struggling to grab the guns, finally knocking both away for a second. He didn't know why he ran
for the gun he didn't even want to carry, except that he wanted to keep it away from Knives, that
he had to keep it away from his twin.

Knives grabbed for the black gun, taking aim at his brother. "After fifteen years,
are you still listening to that ridiculous nonsense? The woman who lived and died by
contradiction?"

Vash shook as he held his own gun on Knives. /It's wrong, /he thought, then
screamed as Knives seemed to have broken the mental link. "It's wrong!" his finger squeezed the
trigger, firing a round.

The platinum-haired twin clutched his leg as his younger brother stared on in
horror. "What is this pain? Why does my leg hurt so? Did you shoot me? Did you actually shoot
him? I can't believe it. Did you really shoot me?"

/I have to run. I have to get out of here. Now. Run. /The words pulsed through
Vash's mind as he closed out Knives's screams to the best of his ability, bit back the pain
screaming through every inch of his body, attempting to ignore the blood once again running
down his leg.

Knives. . . Rem. . . I'm sorry. Rem. . . I did my best. Knives. . .

With that, Vash collapsed into the sands of the desert, unable to push his body
any more beyond the limits, slipping into unconsciousness as he felt one last jolt of power from
the twin guns now nestled inside his cloak.