Chapter Text
He at first had signed off on this project the Doctor had been so eager to convert from a mere idea clogging his mind at all hours, to a tangible actuality, mostly as a plan B, in case anything happened with himself or, God forbid, Vash, before Eden could begin to take form. But now Knives found himself intrigued and checking in on the projects progress with a barely hidden zest, a pure want to see if his Eden had more paths than he could imagine; If a human could carry an Independent Plant to term or not. Knives couldn't go off of much of anything when it came to his and Vash's biology alone, not knowing if between the two of them if they could make Independents, strong ones that could help them mould this wasteland into something worth inhabiting, the twins and their brethren. With these humans running amok, seducing his poor, naive baby brother into their favour, and away from Knives again and again, well, he could see no better vermin to play around with.
He and Vash were far too similar to these lesser beings than he would ever admit, much less out loud, and so it became a conceivable thought, it made sense, that maybe with enough alterations, one of these creatures could atone for the horrors all Plants have been forced to witness and be a part of and die for. It would not bring forgiveness for what the other humans had done and continue to do to his kind, but it would be an exquisitely cruel irony he couldn't help but indulge the thought of.
So when the doctor asked that The Punisher be made the carrier, Knives was uncharacteristically stunned. From what he had heard, as he never felt the need to mingle with the dregs so far below him, not when Bluesummers and Chapel had an iron grip on that area of the organization, The Punisher was Conrad's pride and joy. A young human male who had taken to the Doctor's tests and experiments like wood to a fire. He did as he was told, finished his jobs well and on time, always, and his only bad feature tended to be his mouth and the vile words he could spew to whoever pissed him off that very second, not caring of rank or punishment. Bluesummers face had contorted to disgust when Conrad suggested that The Punisher would be "perfect in every way" for this task. Legato was loyal, doggedly so to Knives and his cause, so the platinum blonde couldn't help but voice his own concern.
"The Punisher is able to do his tasks perfectly and is noted as being a valuable asset in his current form." He began, his icy blue eyes scanning the paperwork on said man. Conrad mutely nodded from where he stood, and Knives could only barely see Bluesummers sneer out of the corner of his eye.
"That he is. He is an S+ when it comes to compatibility, he takes very well to the serums, heals fantastically, has a high pain thresh-hold, and therefor would be the perfect protector to his own offspring, among many other positives." The doctor answered, as if speaking of his own grandchild who did well on the first task ever trusted to them.
"And so you wish to make this perfect soldier to the cause, a one of a kind killer drone, a mother, Doctor?" Knives eyes flitted up to meet Conrad's, the glare from the lights above obscuring the Doctors eyes from site, hidden behind his thick glasses.
"Yes, Master Knives." The man adjusted his spectacles. "The boy grew up in the Hopeland orphanage, and it is written in his contract that Hopeland is to be secured as long as he continues to follow any order given to him. He is fond of children and will make time to make sure any wandering the towns are fed and happy, as noted by Hornfreak who observed this behaviour on a few separate occasions when running into or teamed up with Punisher." The Doctor motioned to the paperwork Knives had been reading.
"So I have read." The Plant bluntly stated. Bluesummers was squirming off to the side, it was clear he did not like this decision. "Bluesummers." Icy blue locked onto widened gold.
"Yes, Lord Knives!" He answered quickly, bowing to the Plant.
"You seem to have a problem with The Punisher potentially being chosen as a carrier for Independent Plants." Knives stated rather than asked, pivoting his torso and neck so he could better see the blue-haired man.
"Yes, sir...the man is very crass and barely seems to care about his own vitality. I am doubtful that he would be worth such an honor, Lord Knives." Legato responded.
Knives took the time to take this opinion in, but scanning the documents he held, The Punisher was one of a kind in his natural biology's ability to accept the serums, as well as any experiment Conrad had thrown his way. He had the correct organs, the maternal instinct to protect children, was a capable soldier, and the ability to heal quickly meant if anything undesirable occurred, he would not fall to anything that could decimate a normal human, no, he was sturdy and with a great pain tolerance, he would be able to undergo the procedure to ready his reproductive organs in the first place and survive with a high probability of success on all fronts, as carefully calculated by Conrad.
"Your opinion is noted, and be that as it may, there are too many pros that far outweigh any cons." He spoke with a tone of finality, and Legato simply nodded his head and bowed once more. Knives word was all that mattered to him at the end of the day, that the Independent could be sure of. Conrad coughed up a spittle of blood, drawing Knives' attention back to the elderly fossil of a human.
"Excuse me." The man wiped his mouth with a handkerchief. "So, do I have your permission to begin the procedure on The Punisher, Master Knives?"
Knives idly nodded his head before properly answering. "Yes, Doctor. Let me know when you will be doing so, I would like to make sure it goes as swimmingly as you've planned it to be." The blonde gripped the middle of the pages with his thumb, curling the papers into a "U" shape as he flicked his wrist, emphasizing his words with the movement of the pages in his grasp. A warning; Do not mess this up, human, I've become personally invested in this now. And Conrad had known Knives long enough to know exactly what point the Plant was wordlessly signalling to him.
---
Millions Knives waited in the operating room, foregoing his gate nearly entirely, only clad in the skin tight portion, finding his own gate wrapped around him oddly suffocating today. He had been summoned at last. The Doctor spent the better part of the last week making final calculations, brewing and mixing medications and serums and who knows what else; readied for the carrier to be, Nicholas D. Wolfwood. Knives heard the clatter of shoes tapping tile as three humans made their way to the room he currently inhabited. The famous mouth of The Punishers' was hard at work, criticizing and chastising and throwing crude remarks at Bluesummers, and Knives could feel the aura of hostility emanating from the lanky pale man. Legato didn't speak back, and seemed unphased on the surface, but it was obvious to the Plant how close he was to snapping the young man in half, literally. It was Conrad who shushed The Punisher as the three humans trickled into the room; Conrad, followed by Nicholas, and finally Legato, ready to forcibly move the human in front of him if he wasn't complying.
Oh.
Punisher. Wolfwood. Nicholas. He was a gorgeous specimen indeed. Pleasant on the eyes, for sure; Radiant brown skin, his build tough and muscular with training under Chapel, Fluffy Obsidian hair that looked freshly washed, tempting Knives to run his lithe fingers through it. Smokey blue-gray eyes that snapped towards Knives, taking the blonde in, quickly, and hastily before The Doctor motioned for Nicholas to lay on the operating table. They didn't catch the light well, those cloudy pools absorbing the light that dared to enter, giving The Punisher a look of Death, and the bags under his eyes only strengthening the effect. Knives felt he could get lost in that gaze, gladly wandering their darkness for eons.
Bluesummers had tucked himself into the corner opposite, noting Knives' contemplative mood and intelligently opting to not disturb it. It was astounding how quickly the lithe man would forget his own feelings to instead tune into what Knives was feeling, dropping his ill-hidden annoyance and murderous thoughts directed towards Nicholas to focus on being as invisible as possible, as if his Master would lop his head off for breathing wrong.
But Knives could care less, his attention squared onto The Punisher, now laid out, shirt and pants off, only covered by black boxer briefs, his toned body stiff, knowing of the pain that would soon be thrumming through it, and bolted down. The cuffs attached to the table holding his every limb and head down to it pristine surface. He found himself standing over Nicholas, not remembering his legs carrying him to the edge of the table, both silently watching each other as Conrad double, triple, quadruple, quintuple and sextuple checked that all was in order and perfect. It seemed The Punisher knew not to try that mouth of his on Knives, likely instinctively as the Eye of Michael taught it's followers of a Vague Angel that they were to pray to, who's word and whims they were to follow. Who's judgment was absolute and not to be questioned, lest one seek death and eternal damnation by the power of God.
So Nicholas wouldn't know what Knives actually looked like, but he could tell with the weariness etched into the young mans features, that Nicholas could feel Knives was something far above humanity. At least, this is what the Independent thought until plush brown lips opened, the edges curling into a defiant grin, making Nicholas look rather adorable, like one of those little fluffy sheep's he'd read of in books with Vash when they were children, but the words that followed were far from that sentiment, showing Knives that his last name was no fluke, the Wolf daring to glare up at him and lick it's chops.
"You got a staring problem, Bud?" A husky, deep, luxurious voice slashed through the odd beep and hiss of the machinery, like music to Knives' ears, and Knives could feel Legato clenching his jaw, blood pressure skyrocketing, behind him. Usually, Knives didn't find himself focusing on Bluesummers at all, so this near constant vigilance of the man was new, and Knives didn't know why his instincts kept telling him to keep track of Legato. But anyways, this foolish little man strapped down and helpless below him certainly had guts. He was both adorably naive and foolish, staring into the Abyss without fear. Foolish, in not knowing he was staring into the Abyss, but remarkably lucky in the way that the Abyss stared back; entranced by the meagre attempt to goad him, daring Knives to give into pure emotion, perhaps vying for a look beyond the perfect mask Knives wore in front of all humans, those dark deep eyes seeing further into the Plant's eyes than most others could, knowing their were layers to the platinum blonde, and Knives found himself internally giddy; How fun this human is turning out to be.
"Perhaps." Knives acknowledged, eyes never leaving Nicholas' face. He took in the aquiline nose that only added to the beauty that was Nicholas D. Wolfwood, his chiselled features reminding Knives of the glorious human paintings he studied a few lifetimes ago with Vash, up in the SEEDS ships, from a time far long forgotten, the people in them utter perfection, the epitome of elegance. Knives found it easy to agree on how attractive those painted humans were, seeing it more as a fact than anything although, seeing Nicholas before him in the now, those people of the past couldn't hope to hold a candle to the picture of radiance laid before his very eyes. His full lips and scruffy facial hair also drew Knives attention. Such a lovely mouth so easily spouting such harsh vocabulary. And the stubble he wore made him seem more earthy to the Plant, more natural without too much of a sleazy feel. He could easily picture Nicholas as The Adam of an Eden, the humans version, at least. Adam was reserved for Knives himself, and Eve for Vash, but allowing for another, akin to an Eve, that would be the position Nicholas could hold.
Why was he thinking like this? Was he so quickly and easily besotted, charmed, smitten by this human... Legato's teeth were grinding harshly now.
"Perhaps I am staring, wanting to remember how you look now, in case the experiment goes awry." His own voice startled his innermost self, but did not show on the outside. Nicholas reacted with bemusement. "In case you transmogrify into some sort of mass of a creature from the Plant DNA to be transfused into your being, I'm curious as to how horrific the changes of each individual element of your being could possibly be, if anything goes...awry." Knives finished, speaking on autopilot from years and years and years of terrifying humans, and oh did Nicholas wear fear in such a lovely way. His bravado melted away, his dazzling eyes widened, skin paled a shade as blood abandoned his face, pearly white teeth clenched. Beautiful.
Conrad had been patient in his waiting, allowing Knives to do as he wished, lest the old man find today being his last, but Knives was growing impatient with not having an answer to if a carrier for Independent Plants could be conceivable, so he moved from The Punishers side and out of the Doctors way to allow the procedure to begin. Knives' answer to Nicholas immediately calmed Bluesummers, diminishing his murderous intent at the man strapped to the operation table, and he stood strait, gaze burning into Nicholas; He was giddy to see what would happen, knowing no matter what the pain would be unimaginable. On the contrary, Knives found himself more upset than he thought, well, he didn't think he'd be upset at all, but, maybe it was the fact that Nicholas could be carrying his offspring if all went well, no, that was probably EXACTLY it, the only plausible reason, that had started this...feeling of adoration to spark for this human. Knives hated humans, hated all they did, so there wasn't any tangible reason, no way he would fall in love with a human. And he WAS NOT IN ANY WAY SHAPE OF FORM IN LOVE WITH NICHOLAS. What a ridiculous thought. Knives was allowed to deem someone as attractive, that didn't mean he loved or even liked them.
But when the levers were pulled after all the dials were set, the medications and serums and who knows what ready to be fed through tubes and IV lines and into Nicholas' body, turning him into some Human-Plant Hybrid, and Knives found himself holding his breath.
And then he watched the man contort once Conrad flipped the switches, mouth agape, back arching and yet not moving more than 2 centimetres from the cold metal of the table, the straps holding The Punisher down. Nicholas was screaming, but it had only just reached Knives' ears, the electric currants running willy-nilly through and to and from Nicholas, blood spurting from different arteries throughout his form, the veins exploding through skin, muscles spasming, trembling, clenching. Knives found not an inch of him revelling in watching this torture, rather, he felt the need to void his stomach more than anything, but held firm.
It lasted about 10 seconds, the procedure that is, but it felt far, far longer. Like it had gone in slow motion, Knives taking it all in, as if it was his sin to bare. The birth of a being who would bring forth his Eden having taken on but a sliver of the pain of all of Plant-kind. But it would be enough. Knives didn't know if he could see Nicholas in such pain again. And that truth felt like a rock dropping into his stomach. He'd imprinted on this human before even knowing if Conrad's far-fetched plan would even work, if Nicholas could even be viable as a carrier. It was unimaginable, but perhaps that was why, this want for Nicholas causing Knives to keep track of any potential threats to his future partner (if all went well), that was why he had become so aware of Legato only now; The instinct to PROTECT overriding basic thought.
His bare feet crossed the room once more, not caring of the drops of blood and viscera painting the otherwise pristine floor that squelched beneath his toes upon approaching the now stained table. No, Millions Knives cared only for this man. He noted tiny movements; Breathing, then eyes flickering, fingers and a leg twitching followed by the other, the nerves testing themselves, making sure everything was still in it's proper place.
"...-eed this mixture for a few weeks, perhaps a month to make sure everything bonded correctly and that he is properly stabilized, and then he will be ready for fertility trials." The Doctors voice grew from faint to vibrant in Knives' ears, the Plant vaguely nodding his head, autopilot kicking in once more.
"Is he stable enough to take to my quarters, Conrad?" The blonde asked, one of his hands hovering over Nicholas' forehead before he gently placed his soft fingers to warm flesh and soggy hair, allowing himself to act on his earlier intrusive thoughts and actually pet the mans hair, even if it was now wet and grungy from the sweat and blood, it was still perfect. The Doctor was silent for a moment, Legato's breathing stuttered minutely before he regained composure.
"I believe so, Master Knives. Just let me install this stability agent and he will be yours to do as you please. But I will once more request to not attempt to copulate with him until I'm certain he is stable and everything introduced to his biology is stable." Conrad warned, thankfully filling Knives on on what he'd missed earlier. So he found no need to scold the Doctor for repeating himself, as Knives truly wasn't listening earlier, and busied himself with unlocking the straps. The Doctor secured an IV bag attached to a small pump to Nicholas' right upper arm, the IV taped down and wrapped securely to his arm, it's end snugly fitted to a pair of lines placed under Nicholas' skin and directly into his arm vein to a direct path to his heart. "I will just need to make sure to keep the ports cleaned, I don't want any infection whether Nicholas can fight it or not isn't the point, the extra complications simply aren't needed."
"I agree. I will make sure he stays clean, and tidy... Would wiping him down with a wet cloth be the best way to clean him up?" Knives asked after lifting Nicholas' lax body into his strong arms, adjusting Nicholas tenderly so that inky-black strands lay snug against Knives' collar bone and cradling his cheek. His bare chest rose and sagged softly, tiny puffs of warm breath rhythmically tickling at Knives' chin. Conrad raised his brows at Knives, but then schooled his features. Master Knives was after his Eden, so of course he would want to take care of this potential carrier, of course.
"Yes, Master Knives, that would be sufficient." The old man firmly answered.
"Very well. Make sure to keep up to date with his medication, no matter what. Nicholas is a top priority now."
---
Wolfwood awoke to...comfort, oddly. His body did hurt, don't get him wrong, but where he rested currently certainly wasn't his holding cell. He felt heavy, movements slow, as if he was drunk, but his mind was clear. He hadn't felt like this since he'd first been brought to the Eye, Chapel beating his lessons into Nicholas back then, leaving him to wake the next day, feeling death encroaching on him, only outpacing the spectre due to his contract and what it protected. He remembered that blue-haired freak and the Doctor leading him...back to that torture chamber they called an operation room. He was strapped down, pricked with needles and lines and his veins were lit on fire from his very core and through his entire being, a pressure gathering under his navel, a horrible stabbing and twisting cramping sensation screaming for all of his attention, and then it went black.
Wait, no, there was someone else. Yeah that exhibitionist weirdo! Walking around practically naked, freaky-ass glowy markings on that skin tight body suit, or was that just his skin? Who knew with the collection of kooks the Doctor had gathered and stitched together like patchwork dolls after tearing them apart over and over again, pretending to care for the suffering they had no choice but to accept and endure as an inevitability of life under the Doctor. But this guy was something else; Pale, almost ghostly alabaster skin, void of any imperfections, although he vaguely remembered a beauty mark under one of the mans piercing, frigid baby-blue eyes, framed by whispy platinum blonde lashes the same colour as his brows and hair, styled back neatly, the entirety of his face bared for all to see. A long, sharp nose and supple peach lips, he was a sight alright and that's right, he was staring down at Nicholas, like he was going to eat him. That's why Wolfwood remembered his face so well. He really thought he was being strapped down just for that oddball to tear his neck open and feast. Oh. Wait. Fuck.
That was The Angel, wasn't it.
SHIT.
The top people of the Eye would tell them "If they were to ever be graced by The Angel, that they would know immediately, his very form exuding an intense, other worldly aura." And the way the guy looked almost right through him, peering into his soul, determining if Wolfwood was even worth his time, yeah, that had to be him, especially with the freaky markings on the freaky suit of his; Pretty much buck-ass naked, dingbat paddy-wack, Lord of the Loons.
His train of thought halted when he'd heard a slight noise to his right. Something shifted ever so slightly. Them drugs that made him more perceptive really kicking in, allowing him to hyper focus on the noise, and he belatedly realized he'd never opened his eyes. Likely due to knowing he was somewhere unfamiliar, it was safer to pretend to be asleep, so at least Chapel's bullshit lectures were worth something.
"You're awake."
Wolfwoods blood ran cold. Well, fuck. Must have been his breathing picking up it's pace, the people around here were the types to notice something so minor. So he resigned himself to opening his heavy eyelids. Cracking dark, gloomy eyes open to a porcelain white room that was thankfully dimmed, else he would have been blinded, flash banged just from opening his weary peepers. He blinked, batting his lashes. Everything felt so sluggish and it was already pissing him off. The Doc's stupid experiments stopped making him feel like this a while ago, so why were these symptoms back now? He sighed harshly, displacing the too nice smelling air of...the bedroom. Okay, where was he?
"And functional." That voice again, it sounded neutral, as if viewing some specimen, which, yeah, that makes sense actually-WAIT. The voice was REALLY close, far to close for comfort. Nicholas' eyes tracked across the ceiling and wall and down to his right, taking in the figure sat an arms length away, looming over his weak body.
It was the Angel.
Leaning forward from where he sat in an egg shaped chair, legs crossed and one elbow dug into the uppermost thigh, his smooth, blemish-less hand holding his resting head in it's palm, was Millions Knives, one of the Twin Angels that allowed humanity to remain alive on this desolate planet of sand and stone. Or at least, thats how the Eye preached their gospel. Icy-blue watched him with surprising tenderness, unnerving Nicholas as he remembered what The Angel had said to him before he was torn asunder under the Doctors machinery.
He began to sweat, a rare panic taking hold of him, he lunged himself forward, knowing if he didn't put enough oomph into the first attempt, that his body wouldn't get far and a second attempt would like fail entirely, but he'd launched himself well enough to sit forward and up, his back muscles screaming out at him now. He took stock of his body. He was fine? Or at least he looked fine...not a blob-creature, not growing anything as far as he knew, nothing "new" at all. And then he felt a big hand pretty much engulf his entire shoulder, and he wasn't sure if his sudden lightheadedness was from that or from him sitting himself up at mach speed.
"You need to rest, Nicholas. It will do you no good to force your body to move like that." Spoke The Angel, his voice smooth and sweet like the honey they preached to them, that he could only dream of experiencing, deep and yet, caring. What was going on? Nicholas thought The Angel's were, you know, above humans, so why was this one acting like Miss Melanie, like a caretaker, scolding him for wanting to go out and play with the other orphans even if he just had a cold? Wolfwood could only gape at him, like a fool. His brain hadn't finished rewiring yet after getting his ass beat by chemicals, so taking in so much information just presented in front of him as if he was the odd one here stopped all his thoughts in their tracks.
And Millions FUCKING Knives had the AUDACITY to chuckle at him!? HELLO??? No, Nah, Wolfwood was DEAD, the Doc finally put him out of his misery, he was dead, dusted and destitute, gone from this world. And it's kinda messed up for God to just put him into such a confusing afterlife. Wolfwood knew he wasn't going to Heaven with all he'd done, but this had to be the most outta left field Hell he could never in his wildest dreams imagine. So case closed, he was in Hell, cool.
But, The Angels' hand on his shoulder felt too real, felt like things are supposed to feel. And then a memory metaphorically slapped him across the face, the Doctors words ringing in his head: "You'll be given the blessed status of a carrier if it all works out, Nicholas. You will be the Mother to Plant-Human hybrids, you'll save this planet, and humanity as a whole! You will bare the seed of The Angel."
"Wait, hol' up," Wolfwood slurred. Blinking his eyes, waiting for the time where he'd open them and be back in his cell, or strapped to the table, or Hell, even burning on a sand dune somewhere in No Mans Land. Wakey-wakey, Wolfie! Time to end this freaky nightmare! "I'm, uh, still like a person?" His own voice sounding strained, grated and dry. Noticing this, Millions GODDAMN Knives reached to the bedside table and handed Nicholas a bottle of water.
WHAT THE FUCK.
"No, no, wait. You're Millions Knives." Wolfwood stated, mechanically grasping at the water bottle offered to him, staring at it now. Looking at the Angel was too much for him mind to handle now.
Knives sighed fondly, (stop doing that!) replying to Nicholas' non question, "Correct, Nicholas." NAH. No way does this guy just say his name like that, just out of the blue. Anyone would be blessed if the Angel referred to them as anything other than garbage, or insects, or the like. There's no way he get's called "Nicholas" in such a charming manner. But Wolfwood had to keep his wits about him, it's all he really had right now, other than just letting himself fall into pure insanity, and that option was sounding more and more promising by the second.
"Why are you...wasting your time on me?" Wolfwood squinted, maybe that would make everything right, it had to be a vision thing...even if he could feel the softness of the sheets, and hear his scratchy voice as well as The Angels', and smell this odd, but, pleasant scent...
"You underwent an important procedure, Nicholas. So far you are everything that the Doctor promised and more; Someone who may be able to bare new life, and bring forth my Eden, creating a blessed paradise for my brethren. So it is of the utmost importance that you are taken care of properly." Knives explained slowly and evenly, taking The Punishers' sluggish demeanour into mind. Nicholas could just nod along. Okay, that made sense. And he wasn't dead, so the orphanage and the kids were safe still. He lifted the bottle to his lips, slowly tilting it and letting the water flow into his mouth. When finished, Wolfwood handed the bottle back to the platinum blonde living Angel that was sat at his bedside, ready to care for him. Knives gingerly took it from Nicholas' unsteady hand, their fingers meeting for a split-second, causing Nicholas to flinch, extracting his hand away quickly.
"So the baby making was real...I thought the old coot was having a bout of dementia..." Knives placed the bottle back on the side table. "So I get to be a fucking incubator, fun." Nicholas' tone darkened as a sad smile rested on his face, a stubborn acceptance colouring his words.
"Do you...loath the idea of carrying Plant-Hybrids, Nicholas?" Knives tone was closer to what the scruffy man had initially expected now, but it still held a softness that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention, when the newly introduced seriousness should have been what unnerved him instead.
He would have to choose his words carefully, but also not lie strait to Millions Knives' face, he had to protect the kids and that required him to be alive. "It's not that exactly. It's more like there's already too many kids without parents on this shit-hole desert planet. Too many kids waiting to be adopted, loved and cared for by people who aren't just obligated to care for them." He said. And hopefully The Angel at his bedside understood, it wasn't an aversion to having weird hybrd-baby-thingy, it was too many unloved kids in general, so why add more? It may have also been Nicholas not feeling he could raise children properly, or if his blood stained hands deserved to hold them, lift them up high, cuddle them and tell them life is a great experience to be a part of, or whatever bullshit parents feed to their children to extend the timer of their naivete for as long as possible, staving off the nastiness of what life would eventually become. Knives softened once more, and Holy Father in Heaven Above, it was so eerie.
"Your crusade to protect Hopeland as well as children in general is what makes you perfect, Nicholas." Knives didn't much care for human children, but didn't loath them as he did the adult humans. Perhaps it was due to their young lives being mostly untouched by the greed for power and the want to extract everything possible from Plants that came with age, perhaps it was due to there being room to teach them to not be barbarians, even if Knives would swear it was simply within their genetics.
And yet he found himself remembering a point Vash had made to him once upon a time, to "let the humans learn to do better." Maybe Knives just had to slaughter all the adults then. But, why did he suddenly care about human children? Ohh, yes, Nicholas. And then, another one of Vash's arguments snuck to the forefront of his mind; "You know that Plants need to be taken care of by humans, Nai!" Hmm, little gardeners to care for his siblings then...But that was a thought for another time.
Once breaking from his line of thought, The Plant reached forward and claimed Wolfwoods right hand, attached to the very same arm that was covered in medical tape and sporting a dinky little machine and an IV bag, running his fingers in circles, the feather light touch causing Nicholas to shiver absentmindedly, the palm of his hand tingling under Millions Knives' tender movements where it rested lax on the bed.
"That and the children you will carry will possibly be able to mould this planet into a far more hospitable environment." The Independent explained. The children he hoped Nicholas could conceive would be loved and taken care of, but would not just be ordinary children, they would be Plants, and hopefully they'd have even a fraction of the power Knives and Vash wielded. That was the best and most hoped for outcome, but it was all up in the air, and this was still Plan B after all.
And yet, Knives decided he would allow Nicholas to stay in his Eden with himself and Vash and their siblings, even if this experiment produced nothing. He wanted Nicholas to stay. With him and Vash. And all Plants.
"Okay, yeah, tha's fair." His voice began to slur, fatigue sneaking its way through the mans body. Wait, yeah, that would make sense with his contract, making a planet that the orphan kids can live peacefully on. That was why Nicholas readily agreed to Conrads stupid-ass experiment in the first place. Knives, picking up on Nicholas becoming more and more fatigued by the second, removed his hand from Nicholas' and placed it firmly on the mans chest. Guiding him to lie back down properly, Wolfwood felt his eyelids drooping, sleep threatening to take him once more. Knives then began to caress his handsome face, before carding his pianist fingers through Wolfwoods again soft and fluffy hair. Knives had rubbed the man down with a wet cloth before changing his boxer briefs to a fresh pair, and tucking him in, wanting Nicholas to sleep as soundly and comfortably as possible. Wolfwood caved in, closing his eyes, his breathing softening with time.
"There we are, Nicholas."
Wolfwood grunted in acknowledgement before sleep fully took him to dreamland.
"Sleep soundly, My Flower."
---
The next time Nicholas had awoken, he was far more aware mentally, which bode in favour of the experiment being successful. His recovery being speedier than anticipated, but all the more welcome. Except that when Knives found his lovely new project stood stock still, frozen at the very sight of the Plant, an ancestral trait warning the human that a threat was near, he couldn't help but frown. Knives had hoped Nicholas would be pliable and open as he had during his first awakening, but now it seemed Nicholas' senses were back to normal, his fight or flight triggered by Knives' simply entering the room. That won't do.
"What is the matter, Nicholas?" He knew, but he wanted to test his cute little human, to make sure all was right of course, and not simply because the want to tease him and ease the situation AND get some more charming expressions to cross the humans' gorgeous face for Knives to think about later. Knives could be quite the multitasker. Nicholas did well to meet Knives' expectations, (unknowingly of course), his expression morphing from terror to unease, fascinating the platinum blonde. He was stood facing Knives, his body rigid, ready to defend himself, fists clenched, stance balanced and unshaken; Amazing! His Nicholas healed spectacularly! After a few beats, Nicholas cleared his throat.
"Just, need to find the bathroom...sir." Nicholas replied. His eyes were squinted, searching Knives for something, perhaps waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for Knives to rush in and tear him open. A silly thought. Knives' own reputation proceeded him, and when it would usually bring blissfully quick interactions with humans, right now it became a frustrating barrier between himself and Nicholas. So then, reading on how to court someone hadn't been all the Plant should have been focused on as his Mate-to-Be slept soundly. Knives needed to figure out how to form a trust between them; He would not have the carrier of his children be afraid of him. He needed to be better, the BEST kind of father figure, someone who had a loving and trusting relationship, to build up their childrens' confidence and happiness. He would be DAMNED if his children experienced even a sliver of what he and Vash had to as young Independents.
"Then you will have to come with me, as long as that works with you, of course." Knives reached out his hand towards Nicholas whom immediately tracked the limb and the graceful unfurling of long pale fingers. The Punisher took the time to gauge Knives once more, and Knives knew that trust required a lot of patience, he was no moron or idiot, nor fool, and patience is something he had in abundance, he was well over 100 years old, he'd done plenty of waiting.
His heart flipped in his chest when Nicholas huffed through his nose and carefully approached Knives with steady, measured steps, his bare feet padding on the floor. Knives had left clean clothing for the human, a button up in a pure white with black slacks, rather similar to the mans usual attire. He hadn't found clean socks, however, sending Bluesummers out to buy some in the city below. Nicholas wore the clothing beautifully, Knives doing his very best not to stare at Nicholas' generous chest, the top three buttons had remained open, and the pants fit him so snug, his shapely butt and thighs hugged to perfection by the fabric. Nicholas paused, his stride coming to a halt as he suspiciously eyed Knives' palm. But the platinum blonde waited, and it paid off, with Nicholas gingerly placing the tips of his fingers onto Knives, the Plant able to curl the humans' digits into his palm, his fingers being gently folded into Knives grasp.
And Knives REVELLED in this moment, a tender passion filling his heart; the feeling of warm calloused finger tips, nails painted pitch black but a touch chipped, (Knives noting to bring Nicholas' polish to him later), the firm knuckles under gorgeous brown skin that Knives couldn't help but rub his thumb over, and the feeling of his Mate-to-Be ACCEPTING his hand, it set loose a swarm of butterflies within Knives' stomach. He hummed, allowing a subtle closed-mouth smile to form on his features, pulling his face in a way it almost never did anymore. He allowed Nicholas to look and see that Knives was baring himself to the man, in the tranquility of this private space, Nicholas would know that Knives was attempting to build a connection...surely?
And yet a barely audible squeak one would emit when abruptly halting a punched out breath, vocal chords rubbing together for a mere moment like two balloons, a halted breath and a tight grimace were what the Plant was met with.
But, it was a new expression at least, and Knives found himself adoring it still. And this was entire new. The only beings Knives had ever openly shown affection towards, had found no flaws in, had loved in their entirety, was Vash and their Sisters. The speed at which he had allowed himself to extend that same bias, that unflinching truth that the people Knives loved were perfect in every way no matter what and could do no wrong, to Nicholas was a bit alarming. He was becoming very soft, very quickly. It needed to be rectified, but he must win over Nicholas...The Doctor did hypothesize that Nicholas would likely have a pregnancy within the same time frame as a human, 9 months. So Knives did have time to woo, and court and express love and devotion to Nicholas. There was time. And he was patient if nothing else.
Knives turned on his heal, silent, and tugged at his cute little humans' hand before letting it fall. He'd rather have held Nicholas for longer, but it wouldn't be appropriate outside of this room, and more importantly, it would likely allow Nicholas to relax once more to not be in the Angels grasp. For all Knives knew of Nicholas from his files, his Beloved Flower was riling himself up, readying for a death, or a beating, or torture at the Angel's hand. It had made sense, experimentation, ruthless training and near death experiences would be all Nicholas knew, his norm. Knives would gradually teach Nicholas that that would no longer be the way he would have to live, the human far too used to prepping himself for pain, constantly.
And much to his relief, Nicholas did calm, the platinum blond sensing the ease of tension in the air itself as he led the human out of the room that Knives had commissioned to be made as an homage, a time capsule of before. Before they knew what happened to Tesla, before Nai learned about how Rem said nothing, before the fear and hatred of humankind lodged itself in his brain with a need to exact REVENGE. It proved a good idea, having been completed years ago and kept tidy and clean of any visitors until recently, becoming a perfect residence for his lovely test subject, and hopefully, a safe and secure place for their future children.
---
Nicholas was going to go insane.
The Doctor was pissing him off, oo-ing and ahh-ing over him, constantly throwing numbers and graphs and figures at Wolfwood that the old coot knew were as good as gibberish to him. The Doc was ecstatic, his excitement rejuvenating the glorified fossil one could call his body. "Nicholas, this is progressing better than I could have ever imagined!" He expressed as Wolfwood kept his ass firmly planted on the metal slab of a table. The Doctor was disinfecting his ports, the meeting of tube into skin needing to be THOROUGHLY and DILIGENTLY cleaned every day, changing the parts of the IV lines, re-testing that the little machine was pumping the stabilizer into Nicholas' nimble body at the correct amount and correct times, and just scampering around like a maniac. "Your genetics, your DNA, everything about you is PERFECTION, My Boy!" Nicholas cringed, not feeling great about being talked about like some pure-bred livestock.
"That's a freaky way to put it, Doc." He drawled. He was getting pretty damn tired about being poked and prodded multiple times a day, but Conrad ASSURED him that his system had become stabilized, but finishing off the entirety of the treatment should keep everything where it's meant to be, fully grafting the Plant DNA to Nicholas', making him a single cohesive entity and not just a human with plant juice floating around inside. So Nicholas, much like everything involving the Doctor and his craft, had to do as he was told and wait it out.
"Well it is true, Nicholas. You are one of a kind, a Child of Blessing." Conrad continued, not catching Nicholas' discomfort on the subject. The old man began to wrap Nicholas' arm again, securing all the medical tubing and bits and pieces once more. "You have single-handedly made a far fetched dream a reality." He tucked the bandages under a previous layer and then wrapped some medical tape around the circumference of Wolfwood's arm and a few places for added security. Conrad glanced up at the young man, "Look at this, would you?" The Doctor kindly asked, turning to clack away on a keyboard, and bring up some charts and numbers and more bullshit Nicholas wouldn't even want to decipher even if he could. But he hopped down from his perch and stood to the side of Conrad, waiting for the man to continue his little presentation.
"Here." A gloved hand pressed against the screen, leading Nicholas' eyes to a 'result'. He tilted his head and pursed his lips.
"Whaaaaaaatttt do those mean? Like, they're successful experiments, but for what?" The scruffy man said, earning a proud grin from Conrad. He wasn't stupid, but was street-smart more than academically inclined. And on a planet like No Mans Land, being able to walk the streets carefully and talk the talk could mean the difference between life and death. And it's times like this he really wished he'd not have been 'chosen' by the Eye, and not fucked up Livio's life, and not been aged up and forced to be an assassin, using what he did know to expertly fit into any environment humans inhabited to murder and kill and end those who defied the church and HOLY SHIT, the fucking fossil was acting more and more like he was Wolfwood's granddad or something, and really starting to piss him off! Tortured and experimented on one day, while discussing if he could get pregnant the next, it was BEYOND fucked.
"Correct you are. These first few rows are the results of mixing your urine samples from this last month with some Plant DNA to see if any level of rejection might occur." he explained. He ran his finger a few rows down and across the percentages, before landing on what looked like the most current one based on the date (way to go, Wolfie, using that there noggin' of yours!). "This was from yesterday, the vaginal swab." Wolfwood shuttered. Conrad was kind enough to let an assistant take the sample, else Wolfwood might not be able to look the Doc in the eye, which was odd, considering how much the Doctor had already put him through medically, but this was different. Conrad cleared his throat, moving forward after noticing Nicholas' discomfort on this subject; Old-ass, crusty-ass man could see when Nicholas didn't like a subject then...Asshole.
"Excuse me. And it was tested with a sample Lord Knives' Stamen Fluids." Not waiting for Wolfwood to ask what the heck the Doc was jabbering on about, he continued, "The closest that humans would have to this substance being Sperm, although not the same biologically of course! This Stamen Fluid is full of pollen, which was one component for plants like flowers, fruits, and vegetables back on earth would naturally copulate. Lord Knives was only missing the Pistil to receive his Fluid. So after the success of the experiment, your reproductive organs shifted and morphed to resemble a Pistil and it's properties, with the correct fluids and all, and retaining some of the human anatomy and properties as well."
Conrad finally turned to look at Nicholas and sighed as Nicholas simply gawked at him. Thinking he had to explain things in simpler terms, Conrad pinched the bridge of his nose for a second.
"So...I really can have funky flower babies then....with Knives?"
The Doctors eyes shot open, his head snapping back to stare at Nicholas who had become focused on the monitor. His mouth was slack, his eyes flitting over the information. He wasn't taking any of the data in, but he needed something to anchor himself in this moment. He wasn't panicking, or really scared, but more nervous about having to face being a parent. He'd wanted to adopt kids at one point, there were always children in need of parents, but he felt to unclean now with his profession as an Undertaker, and eventually he let that dream fizzle and die off...only now for it to come back with a vengeance and punch him strait in the gut.
"You're sure, Doctor?" Millions Knives probed, having entered the Medical Room mere seconds after Nicholas seemed to confirm the Plants' fantasy as a tangible inevitability. It was REAL now. The Doctor quickly bowed his head, startled by the sudden addition of Knives over bearing aura, feeling like it was squeezing all the air from the room.
"Yes, Lord Knives! I am absolutely positive! The outlook on this project couldn't possibly be better!" The Doctor's tone became less of a Granddad proud of his grandson, and more of a businessman perfectly selling a product pitch to a stuffy CEO. Nicholas felt Knives place his big hands on his small, but toned waist, bracketing him in, and literally keeping him in this moment. He felt Knives cheek touch his own, the Independent resting his chin on Wolfwood's shoulder and squishing his face against the humans, as if he was attempting to assimilate. Icy blues scanned the data, actually able to parse through the information on the screen. Nerd.
"Children. Children, Nicholas." The platinum blonde breathed, and even having Knives within the humans' direct space for nearly a month strait didn't acclimatize Wolfwood to him. But this, right now, the breathlessness, the awe, the pure want to be a father to these right now fictional children...This finally allowed Nicholas to feel safe enough to relax in Knives grip, to accept that, Okay, yeah, the Dude-Angel-Plant-Guy might actually be trying to win Wolfwood over, the stilted attempts at conversation, attempts to leave little teasing touches on Nicholas' skin that made the human freeze in alarm rather than feeling like a lovers tender brush; The romance novels Knives had read lying so readily to his face. Leading Nicholas around on walks, asking him about his opinions on various subjects, and just seeming to want to learn more about Nicholas in general and not just what his files said.
"...Kids." He mumbled quietly. "Babies..."
Knives dared to wrap his arms around Nicholas, those strong pale hands caressing his lower abdomen, his womb. And Nicholas let him, gave a silent permission, didn't even jump. He just leaned back into Knives' warm hold, but kept his face forward. He knew for sure that the Angel wanted to kids. He didn't know if the Plant was trying to set up a game of house, or if he was actually interested in Nicholas for real though. He wouldn't put it past Millions Knives to play the long con, knock him up and then gut him once he had what he wanted, taking out all of humanity once Wolfwood had done his job as an incubator. And yet, his gut actually told him he was wrong on this one. And his gut was always RIGHT.
But still. If Nicholas thought that Knives was only interested in the Plant-Human Hybrids Conrad was almost certain he could make and carry to term and give birth to, well, Wolfwood knew the unfortunate card he could play, but only if absolutely necessary...