It was nearly midday by the time they reached Arrows. Much to Kira's disappointment the town was just as empty as San Marco. No store. No inn. No people. "Well," she said, turning to her charge, "what do you think? The inn used to be over there," she pointed to an obviously empty building, "but they must have taken off. We could probably stay in one of the abandoned houses, or we can grab some supplies and keep going until sunset. Your call."

Knives grimaced. "How far is the next waypoint?"

"Caston? Another three days, I think. It should have a decent population though—with a store and stuff. It's kind of a cross-point between Delnashville, Inepril and Octovern so I think a lot of travellers still pass through it."

"I'd rather not delay."

She tipped her chin. "Wait here, I'll get the food and water."

x.x.x.x.x

Knives paced impatiently as the minutes crept by. It was taking too long. Where the hell was she? His mind began working itself into a frenzy. Maybe she had recognized him. Maybe she was out there searching for a soldier to take him into custody. Why had he trusted her! He should have known better. Or maybe she'd simply decided he wasn't worth her trouble. She was gone, he was sure of it. She'd left him. He was alone… again.

Concern gripped him for a moment but he refused to let it take hold. Not now. He needed to keep his wits about him. If she was gone... what next? He needed food and water. But he didn't have any money… And he couldn't risk showing his face more than necessary… And his clothes were on her cart. Fuck. He let out a frustrated sigh. He needed to be patient. She'd come back. Surely she wouldn't just leave him like this…

The slight creaking of wheels caught his attention and a wave of relief swept through him as the girl came into view. "What took you so long?" he demanded, his tone sharp.

She gave him a surprised look. "It took a little while to fill the waterskins. Why? Did something happen?"

Shit. He felt like an idiot and turned away dismissively. "I'd like to get going."

"Okay…" She quirked an eyebrow but didn't push the matter.

x.x.x.x.x

After eating a quick lunch, Kira took a bearing from her compass and they began heading in the direction of the Caston waypoint at a steady pace. Once they were surrounded by nothing but sand and a few boulders, Knives relaxed a bit. He was glad there didn't seem to be any other travellers on their route. Apparently most people just hitched a ride on the water trucks, but since he was avoiding contact with the Federation, that wasn't an option. He was safe for now, at least.

Kira implied that things would pick up once they reached the next town, but a part of him hoped she was wrong. More humans would make life easier and harder at the same time. They'd have more amenities but he'd have to be more wary. He hadn't explicitly told her that he was a 'wanted' man, only that he didn't want the Federation to know about him. It might further arouse her suspicions if he tried to conceal himself around normal townsfolk.

Then again… maybe he could trust her. With a little information at least. After all, she'd brought him this far… She reminded him of Vash—of his idealized version of humanity. She seemed to have much of the 'goodness' his brother always went on about. She was certainly kinder than the humans Knives was used to dealing with, although it wasn't surprising. The Gung-ho Guns and the Eye of Michael were about as despicable as humanity could get.

He shuddered to think of his fate if one of their kind had found him. And they weren't alone. There were swarms of hateful, greedy, cruel humans out there. They would have turned him in, or left him to die… He was lucky it had been her.

Well… somewhat lucky. The girl had been ranting nonstop about her displeasure with the rations she'd purchased in Arrows. Apparently all they had were protein bars, so that would be their meals for the next few days. He couldn't blame her for her irritation—the damn things tasted like chalk—but he was amazed at the energy she was wasting to complain about it.

"—like, anything else! Like… beans! Or canned meat. Or dried fruit. Hell—I'd even prefer more toma jerky!"

"And here I thought you just had a taste for the stuff," he said with a slight smirk.

She looked over in surprise. "Jerky? Ugh, no. I mean, it's fine—better than protein bars—but I'd rather have some variety. Not that packing fresh produce would be a wise decision, but I try to keep my diet at least somewhat well rounded. Unfortunately it's been pretty slim pickings the last few weeks."

He frowned. "Why did you stay so long? You obviously knew Delnashville was ending."

She gave him a slightly embarrassed look. "I don't know. I've been avoiding thinking about it, honestly. My life was there… was there. Maybe I just wasn't ready to say goodbye."

"I take it you won't return?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Where will you go?"

A wistful smile teased her lips. "I don't know… Maybe I'll take you all the way to Octovern. If you'll 'allow' me, that is," she said with a small chuckle. "It seems like a good place to make a new start." She glanced over and he could see the question in her eyes.

"Yes. That would be acceptable," he said. More than acceptable. He needed her help—it was as simple as that. His brief moment of concern in Arrows was enough to solidify that fact. He needed her supplies. He needed her money. He needed her knowledge. He didn't even mind her company… mostly. He just hoped his brother was actually in Octovern since he didn't really have a backup plan. Most of his allies were dead, and he had no idea how to reach any that might remain.

And he didn't want to reach them. He held no love for the humans, but his vendetta was over. He was tired. He wanted to leave those dregs of humanity in the past. He didn't want to start another war, build another militia. He didn't want to fight with Vash or try to prove some meaningless point. He just wanted to find his brother. His twin. The only person he could fully trust. The person who would never betray him, even when he should. He wanted forgiveness for the things he had done… and the thing he had nearly done.

He'd almost killed him—the person who meant more to him than anyone. He'd turned against Vash—the only one who could truly understand him. He had to fix his mistake.

This girl was his best chance.

x.x.x.x.x

Knives woke first the following morning. He sat up, trying not to disturb Kira, and left to relieve himself. She was still asleep when he returned. She looked so different with her brown hair splayed haphazardly around her head. She always wore the turban when they travelled. Without it she looked so much younger. And strangely vulnerable.

As if she felt him watching her she sighed and stirred, her eyes opening slowly. She groaned and sat up, stretching. "I miss real beds," she muttered. She got up and began taking care of her morning duties as Knives got the food together. If he never ate a protein bar again, it would be too soon. He handed her a portion when she returned and she munched on it quietly while putting on her turban.

Knives pressed a shirt to his nose and sniffed before scowling. He'd run out of clean clothes a couple days ago. He did what he could with a small amount of water and the bar of soap but they needed a proper cleaning. He sort of regretted leaving Arrows so quickly. If they'd stayed they could have gotten extra water from the truck for laundry, but it would be a waste to use their drinking water for something so inconsequential.

Kira looked at him sympathetically as he shrugged his shirt off and pulled the 'new' one over his head. "We should get to Caston the day after tomorrow," she said in an obvious attempt to conciliate him. "We'll do laundry first thing."

He gave her a stiff nod and put his arms through the harness since it was his turn to pull.

x.x.x.x.x

They moved quickly. Kira had been talking more and more each day as they walked. What began as a dialogue of her hypotheses about his past had somehow turned into a full-blown tirade against the Federations' new criminal justice practices, and although he found her ire rather amusing, the faster pace she adopted in her anger was less so. He had half a mind for strap her in front of the damn cart just to slow her down. It was too fucking hot for this.

"—which apparently means that even something as small as looting the abandoned houses could put you behind bars. I understand that they want to create order but it's ridiculous! People are still struggling to survive! They don't have any options. Not to mention this whole 'No Man's Land Reformation' thing hasn't made a damn difference in these border towns. It's as easy to get robbed or kidnapped or killed as it ever was and calling minor transgressions 'criminal' isn't—"

Knives finally let out a heavy sigh, cutting her off. "Were you planning on arriving at a conclusion anytime soon," he asked, the faint curve of a mocking smile on his lips.

"Cute," she shot back sarcastically. "All I'm trying to say is that the Federation is too swift to judge, so having a bounty on your head doesn't mean much these days. And… if there's one on you, I think it'd be safer if I knew about it."

He scowled, his hackles rising. "Safer for you or for me?"

"Can't it be both," she asked with a lopsided grin.

He arched a brow.

She rolled her eyes. "If we need to keep an eye out for bounty hunters, I'd like to know. And if walking around town puts you at risk of being recognized, I can help—get you something to hide your face or whatever."

He stared at her for a moment, his eyes slightly narrowed. In a way, he was glad she'd come to the conclusion without him having to ask for it directly, but he was still hesitant to reveal so much. After a few more moments of internal deliberation he finally relented. "Although I'm not entirely certain, there may be a bounty out for me." It was the truth… to some extent. The full truth was that he'd be amazed if there wasn't a bounty on his head.

To his surprise she let out a sharp, victorious laugh. "I knew it! I thought you looked familiar! I must have seen your poster at some point." A self-satisfied grin spread over her lips.

His blood ran cold. He briefly scanned her mind and was relieved to see that her recognition was vague at best. She didn't know him. "I'd rather not discuss it any further, but… I would appreciate your assistance in staying out of sight," he muttered, a little surprised by the genuine gratitude he felt. Her offer alleviated the problem that had been weighing on him so heavily for the last couple of days. Now, if he could just dissuade her from investigating any further into his crimes…

She huffed a little regretfully. "Alright, you don't have to tell me about it. But thanks for letting me know. And don't worry—I'll get you safely to Octovern. I promise."

x.x.x.x.x

They made camp at dusk. After a quick dinner and their normal nightly routines, they bedded down. Knives was a little embarrassed to be sleeping next to the girl now that he'd run out of clean clothes. If his smell bothered her, Kira was too polite to say anything. She did face away from him when she climbed into the sleeping bag though.

Her slow, even breathing soon signaled that she was asleep. As he'd done nearly every night, he inched just a little closer to her. He knew it was wrong on so many levels for him to find comfort like this, but he did. It was unnatural, but… He let out a soft breath. Right now, he simply didn't care. He'd take whatever peace he could get.

x.x.x.x.x

Knives was awoken by a rough nudge to his shoulder.

"Well ain't this just adorable," called out a raspy male voice.

He opened his eyes and found himself staring down the barrel of a shotgun. A dim lantern placed on the ground nearby cast just enough light for him to see the glinting metal and a pair of legs, but the rest of the figure was hidden in shadow.

"Don't move boy."

Kira stirred, her eyes fluttering open. When she saw the gun she took a sharp breath in.

A brittle laugh cut through the air. "Morning, cutie," a second voice called.

Knives glanced around and could make out another flickering lantern near the cart. Two men… only two. Out of instinct, he tried to make a blade to cut through them, but nothing materialized. Shit. He hadn't had a chance to test his telepathic manipulation yet—the ability to control a person's body through their mind. And it was never his strongest skill. If his concentration flickered for a moment, his control would slip. He'd mostly relied on Legato and his 'threads' for that sort of thing. Besides, even if he did retain that ability, Kira would certainly notice—

He was suddenly dragged from the bedroll and pulled to his feet. He clenched his jaw, very irritated, but still unsure of whether to reveal himself or not… No. He'd be patient. Wait. And see what the two men did.

"Okay," his captor said, "here's how this is gonna work. You're gonna give us your money and anything else you think we might enjoy, and in return we'll give you your life." He shoved Knives roughly toward the cart. "So go ahead… anything nice."

"Wait!" Kira shouted. "It's my cart. He doesn't know what's there."

The second man laughed again. "Okay, little lady. Go on then. Show us what you got."

Knives felt himself being tugged backwards. The man kicked the back of his legs, knocking him to his knees and it took an enormous amount of self-control not to force the bastard to rip out his own fucking throat. It was easier to hold captive bodies still than to make them to do something against their will, but with the rising hatred Knives was feeling right now, he was sure he could manage. This was the humanity he was accustomed to…

Kira was rummaging through her pack. The second man moved in beside her and ran a hand up her thigh with a chuckle. "I might have to take a little taste of this one before we go."

A surge of molten fury rose in Knives' chest burning through his previous plans and his self-control. How dare the trash lay a hand on his guide! He lashed out with his mind and the man let out a surprised yelp as Knives commandeered his limbs. "Get your hands off her you filthy—" Crack! The butt of the shotgun hit him in the temple, hard, knocking him to the side. A second blow to the same spot quickly followed, sending him to his stomach. Stars flashed before his eyes, and he struggled to regain enough focus to counterattack. A third blow to his back knocked the air out of him.

"Relax, boy," rasped the first man, pressing the barrel of the gun into Knives' cheek. "There ain't shit you can do so you might as well—" Pop! The sound of a gunshot rang through the air along with a choked gurgle followed by a thud. Knives was vaguely aware that the pressure of the gun was gone.

"What the—" Pop! Pop! Two more followed along with the sound of a second body hitting the ground.

He shook his head, trying to understand what had just happened. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been caught off-guard like that. Apparently his reflexes weren't what they'd been before his death. He was going to be sick. Kira was at his side. She set her gun down and pushed him up to his knees. "Fuck." She pressed something against his head, causing him to groan. "Fuck!" She held it firmly, trying to staunch the bleeding from the deep bruising gash he'd received.

"You killed them," he murmured.

"Yes. Now hold this here. Can you do that?"

"Yes."

She rolled their bedding up quickly, throwing it on the back of the cart along with the rasping man's shotgun. Knives felt like he was going to pass out. He lurched to the side but caught himself.

"Dammit." Kira was beside him again. "We have to go. They might have friends. I need you to stand." She pulled his arm around her shoulders and lifted with all her might. A wave of nausea hit him and he retched, thankfully missing their feet.

"It's okay," she whispered soothingly as she half-carried him to the cart. "Get in," she ordered as she went back for the lanterns and hung them over of the two handles. There wasn't much room but he was able to find a semi comfortable position leaning against the waterskins and the bundled bedding. The cart began to move in its soft rocking way. He stared dazedly at the moons before falling into unconsciousness.