Knives was vaguely aware of being jostled and let out a soft groan. His body ached—he just wanted to go back to sleep. He was pushed into a seated position and something pressed against his mouth. Liquid ran down his lips.

Water! His hand reached up, clutching at the source of the water and he drank deeply. His throat rebelled at the sudden intrusion and he began coughing violently. He forced his eyes open, but the world was hazy.

"Whoa. Slow down. It's okay." A soothing feminine voice spoke beside his ear. A hand patted his shoulder and he realized he was leaning against someone. The woman gently pressed the waterskin back to his lips. "Drink slowly. You'll hurt yourself if you go too fast."

He obeyed, panting in between sips. After a few moments she took the waterskin away again. "More," he demanded.

"You're dehydrated. Just wait a minute, let your body absorb it, then I'll give you more."

He sat up straight, his head still reeling, and turned to face the insolent creature. He blinked several times, his mind very foggy, and tried to process what he was seeing.

She had no face. A swath of white fabric surrounded a pair of gray eyes in a protective turban. A pale blue long-sleeved tunic and pair of loose beige leggings shielded her limbs from the suns. She also sported a pair of light fabric boots with leather soles. Goggles hung at her belt and a pack was slung from her shoulder.

She passed the water back to Knives and he gratefully accepted. "Slowly," she said again.

He took a deep drink, breathed deliberately a few times and took another.

"Are you hungry?"

He nodded weakly. The woman reached into her pack and pulled out a couple strips of what looked like jerky, handing them over.

"It's toma," she explained. "I have a little bread left too." She rummaged through the pack for another moment before pulling out a half loaf of bread. She broke off a piece and handed it to Knives before ripping off a smaller piece for herself.

"Who are you?" Knives rasped, his throat still recovering.

"My name's Kira. I'm a scavenger." She pulled down the fabric from her nose and jaw to reveal a cocky grin. She was young—maybe in her mid twenties, although it was hard to tell with the rest of her still cloaked from view. "What about you? Who are you and how the hell did you manage to get yourself stranded way the fuck out here without any water? You're not suicidal are you?" She took a bite of her bread.

"No, I'm not," he muttered, irritated by her impertinence.

She stared at him curiously as she casually chewed and swallowed before inquiring further. "Do you have a name?"

Knives thought for a moment. His name had likely been released to the public after his defeat—probably his picture too. After all, he was the man responsible for decimating the human population. Whoever was in charge these days would probably want him captured and killed.

There was a good chance that every person on this damn planet knew of him, including this girl. If she didn't recognize him already, he couldn't risk jogging her memory by telling her his name. She was staring so intently. He'd have to give her something…

"You may call me Alex," he said, immediately regretting his choice. The name had simply popped into his head—Rem's lover. Now he'd be reminded of her every time this girl addressed him.

"Alex," she confirmed. "How did you get here?"

He took another bite of jerky. He definitely wouldn't be sharing that information. He wasn't even sure about it himself.

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, moving on. Do you want help getting back to the waypoint? It's not an easy trek."

He narrowed his eyes. What was his plan, exactly? The only thing he wanted was to find Vash. But he hated the idea of having to travel among humans to do so. Unfortunately that seemed to be his only option. He let out a short sigh and nodded. "Yes, I would appreciate your assistance."

He also hated being at the mercy of this random bystander. He supposed he could kill her and take her supplies for himself, but he wasn't sure of the best path to travel. He'd destroyed the San Marco Bridge that spanned the chasm between Delnashville and Warrens. He could try to go around it, but the trip would take weeks. It was infeasible.

The humans had probably built an alternate way to span the divide where the bridge used to be, but if he were wrong he would waste a lot of time and resources trying to rectify his mistake. It was less of a risk to allow this girl to lead him. She seemed to be willing to do it for nothing and was even providing him with food and water. He'd be a fool to pass on the opportunity.

She had finished her bread and was glancing into the distance, a hand shielding her eyes from the suns. "Hm… I guess we'll have to head right back. I was planning on staying out here for a couple days but I don't have enough water to support two of us for that long."

She stood and held out her hand to Knives, who frowned but accepted it. She pulled him to his feet and began walking over to a two-wheeled cart. He raised a brow as he got a better look at the unusual vehicle. It had three sides, but the front was open. Two long handles extended in front of it with a crossbar connecting them. She had positioned a sort of crutch under the crossbar to hold it upright so the cart stayed level. The contents inside were hidden by a faded green tarp, but he suspected it contained her supplies.

Much like her, it seemed somehow out of place. It had probably originally been built to be pulled by a toma but there was none in sight now. There was an odd-looking pile of straps that almost resembled a harness strung between the two handles. Sure enough, she put her arms through it and tossed the crutch and pack onto the tarp, resting the cart's weight on her shoulders.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, pulling the turban back up over her nose and mouth.

Knives paused for a moment. He was still rather dizzy but he didn't want to appear weak. "I'm fine."

"Well, if you get tired, let me know. You can ride in the cart. And there's more water if you need it." She lifted the handles and began pulling the thing after her. Knives followed, not quite sure what to make of the strange girl.

They walked in silence for a while. She glanced over at him a few times, her gray eyes alert. "You can toss your stuff in with mine if you want."

"It's fine," he said, shifting the pack on his shoulders.

"I won't steal it, if that's what you're worried about." Her eyes crinkled in what he must assume was a grin.

"It's fine," he growled a little more forcefully.

"Pssh. Okay. Take it easy."

She glanced at him again but thankfully didn't speak. They continued in silence. Gradually his mind began to drift. He wondered what things were like now. How long had he been asleep? Did the angels survive? Could he ask this girl without giving anything away?

"You said you're a scavenger?" He spoke slowly.

"Yes, one of the few still raiding Delnashville," she answered stiffly. "You're lucky you were found."

"What… do you do?"

She arched an eyebrow. "I scavenge…? You've never heard of scavengers before?"

He shook his head.

She looked surprised. "Well, we collect things from the abandoned cities and bring them back to be reused repurposed or recycled. Otherwise all of the things we forced the angels to produce will crumble away. It seems like such a waste, you know? I used to make special trips for families too, to search for items that were important to them—things that were lost when the city was destroyed. It's been a while since I've gotten a request like that, though."

"I see. So no one plans to return to Delnashville?"

She gave him an unusual look. "No, there isn't a reason to. We only settled here because of the plants inside the crashed ship. They allowed the city to flourish. Now that they're gone, there's no point in trying to repair and maintain the bridge to this isolated place. Not to mention, it's too far away from the Federation's headquarters in Octovern. It's difficult transporting food and water out this far. They're doing it for us scavengers since we benefit them—a sort of symbiotic relationship, I guess—but even now they're pulling back their support. There isn't much left to scavenge here and it's not worth their resources. Soon this place will be reclaimed by the desert."

The Earth Federation. They must be running things now. He grimaced. Their presence was like salt in the wound of his failure. If only he'd wiped them out before they'd landed…

"You okay?" Her voice cut through his thoughts. "You look… pissed."

"I'm fine." He was suddenly very tired. His feet were starting to ache in his ill-fitting boots. He clenched his jaw, ignoring the pain.

She gave him a disbelieving look but said nothing.

"What…" Knives paused, worried about what his question might reveal about him… and to him. "What is the date?"

"August 18th."

"… What year?"

She raised her eyebrows. "0115."

A year. He'd been dead for a year.

x.x.x.x.x

The city fell away as the suns moved slowly toward the horizon. They continued on into the open desert as evening approached. Judging by the path they were taking Knives was sure they were heading towards the bridge, as he had suspected. Assuming they stopped at dusk and rose at dawn, they should be able to reach it by midday tomorrow.

He could manage that—one more afternoon with the strange woman.

Kira stopped at sunset, resting her cart on its crutch and stretching with a sigh before pulling off her turban to reveal a head of short brown hair. She ran her hand through it roughly so it lay in loose waves around her head. "Time for some dinner!" she called out with a grin. She fished through her pouch and pulled out more jerky and bread before grabbing a full waterskin from under the green tarp.

"Sorry, not much of a selection." She handed him his portion and sat heavily on the ground, gulping hers down quickly before following it with a mouthful of water. He sat beside her, grateful to be off his sore feet, and began eating slowly. She handed him the water and stood. "I need to take care of some business. I'll be back in a minute."

She sauntered off, leaving him alone to finish the meager dinner. Afterward he untied his boots to see the damage. As he suspected, his feet were blistered pretty badly. What an annoyance. He began rubbing the unblistered parts lightly.

"Yeesh, that looks pretty bad. What happened?" Kira inquired when she returned, sitting down ungracefully next to him and staring at his besieged feet. He shoved them back into the boots.

"Nothing. It's fine."

"Oh don't be stupid," she shot back, causing Knives to grit his teeth in an attempt to curb his displeasure. "Those boots clearly don't fit right. Give them to me. Maybe I can help."

After a moment of internal debate he handed them over. Kira dove into the pouch at her side and pulled out a shiny metal object. She unfolded a small blade and began carving roughly at one of the boots. He thought about objecting to the rash action, but held his tongue. As odd as she was, she seemed to know how to take care of herself. He doubted she'd be stupid enough to destroy his only pair of shoes.

She carved open leather covering the toes and heels of both boots so they resembled ridiculous sandals and handed them back. "There. That might help. If they're still giving you blisters I can try to take a little more off."

Knives tried them on. They were certainly the most unusual looking shoes he'd ever worn, but they did feel better. At least the soles of his feet were still protected from the scorching sand and rocks. He muttered a halfhearted 'thanks.'

She grabbed a pouch from under the tarp and pulled a bar of soap and a couple pieces of cloth out of it, handing one of the pieces to Knives. She poured some water over the cloth and rubbed it against the soap before using it to scrub herself. She handed the soap over as well and he accepted it with a grimace. He supposed he should be thankful she was at least somewhat hygienic, but she was still so unrefined.

Kira gave him an amused look. "You don't like people much, do you?"

"No. Not particularly."

"Well, we should reach the San Marco waypoint tomorrow afternoon, so you can go off on your merry way." She walked over to the cart, pulled a bedroll from beneath the tarp, laying it out on the ground. The twin suns had all but disappeared behind the horizon, painting the sky red with their last shimmering rays. "Better set up for the night. It'll be cold soon."

"Won't you light a fire?"

She snorted. "I'm sorry, did you bring some wood you forgot to mention?"

"You don't have any?"

"Of course not. The cart is heavy enough as it is. Like, maybe if I had a truck or something…" She paused for a moment. "Wait. You do have bedding, right?"

Knives scowled, cursing himself for forgetting something so obvious. To be fair, it had been nearly half a century since he'd done much hiking through the desert.

"You don't? You're gonna freeze!" She gave him an exasperated glare. "Where the hell did you come from? How did you get out to Delnashville without a fucking bedroll?" She shook her head in disbelief. "Ugh. Never mind. I forgot—you don't want to answer any questions. Look, you can share with me for tonight."

"No," he answered flatly.

"No? Are you kidding me?"

"No! I'll be fine." He grabbed his pack and started sorting through the clothes he had grabbed—a handful of shirts and a couple extra pairs of pants. Not much to work with. He layered them as well as he could and curled up on his side facing away from the vexing woman. He could hear her chuckle at his efforts behind his back.

"Let me know if you change your mind," she said, her voice full of dry amusement.

He could still kill her…

x.x.x.x.x

Knives was miserable. It was only couple hours past sunset, but he couldn't stop shivering, and now, even his teeth were chattering. He pulled the useless clothes tighter against him, but they did little to ward off the cold. Kira's steady breathing wasn't helping. He could tell she was asleep and comfortable. The damn bitch.

He sat up and let out a frustrated breath. Maybe he should just walk around to get his blood moving. He was still so fucking tired though. He groaned and flopped backward, closing his eyes tightly. The sound of a zipper caught his attention. Dammit. He woke her.

He felt a warm hand grab his.

"Just come here," she mumbled, still half-asleep. She gave him a light pull before letting go and walking back to her bedroll. He paused for a moment, shivering, and then swore irritably. He took off the extra clothes quickly, tossing them in his bag, and made his way to where she lay. He climbed in, trying to brush against her as little as possible. The wave of warmth that met him felt wonderful. He zipped the bedroll and lay with his back against hers.

"Mmph. You're freezing," she grumbled.

"Need I remind you that this was your idea?"

"… And you're doing it wrong. We'll fit better if we face the same direction." She flipped over so she was curled against his back.

He tried to disconnect himself from what was happening—from being forced into such close proximity to the girl—but found it difficult. He sighed. At least he wasn't shivering anymore. And as loath as he was to admit it, the feeling of another body pressed against his was oddly… comforting. Being close like this reminded him of the angels… of the connection he'd lost. He'd been alone for so long in that purgatory. He was surprised at how grateful he felt, not to be alone now. Even if his companion was a human.