I don't own Trigun.

I'll be off at Sakuracon this weekend, so no updates. You get one bigger chapter, instead. No complaining allowed.

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Knives studiously stared off into the distance, eyes searching the horizon because seeing the horizon didn't bother him. The sight of the two of them, laughing together and having fun bothered him. It was petty, he knew, but that didn't change the sinking feeling in his gut as he watched Ace enjoy Kiley's company. What could the girl be seeing in that female? She was just a vermin, a spider, a nobody who was only waiting to die. He suppressed a cringe as a shot rang out. He wasn't expecting to be shot. Really. Regardless, he leaned a little closer to the rock at his back.

She should not be teaching the girl how to shoot. Women were weaker than men; that's why men were the protectors. As long as he was around, the child had no need to protect herself. It was like they were planning on getting rid of him, on not needing him around. The thought was unacceptable, but try as he might, he couldn't banish it.

He shifted his position a little, his gaze scanning the high clouds that shrouded the sky. Abruptly his mind remembered rain, and storms, and things he had never seen with his own eyes. His scowl deepened. It was a nuisance and a bother, these memories that weren't his own. Even so, the ghost of memory brushed against his skin, flesh that suddenly wished to feel the soft touch of rain. He shook himself, rubbing his hands on arms gone prickly with gooseflesh, and gave off staring at the sky.

He resumed staring off across the sand again, and started to wonder when he would see his brother again. It was only a matter of time before he tried to find him; he had promised to never bother his two pets again, and had rather broken that promise, along with a window. For that matter, he had vowed to stay in the ship until after they died, but that was a minor detail. As long as he wasn't causing trouble for his friends, Vash didn't really care what he did.

Well, no, he cared, but he didn't try to stop him until it became personal. And it was, now. He was going to wonder why he had broken his promise, and he would pick up his gun again, and don his body armor, and come after him. And Knives had no clue what he was going to say.

"Hey, sorry, Vash. I was minding my own business, and all of a sudden, there was a human in my ship. Yeah, that one over there. She escaped, and I followed her, and things just went downhill from there." He sighed. That wasn't going to work. It was the truth, but it was unbelievable, even to him. Vash was a pacifist goofball, but he wasn't stupid. He just hoped that he had enough time to come up with a believable lie.

The best thing to do would be kill her right now. If he brought the child home with him, he would not be bored anymore, or at least not for a good long while. Raising her the right way would be a challenge, and he could spend his spare time researching the possibilities that she had opened up to him. And he could keep Vash out of the ship. Probably. Damn. That idea wouldn't work.

He turned and looked at them and sighed again. Besides, he was beginning to get the impression that killing that woman would not be as easy as he had first thought. She was not the typical vermin, that was certain. Most of them quivered in fear when he came near, falling all over themselves to please him, to try to extend their worthless lives. The strong might try to defy him, but they died so easily, their strength only weakness when compared to him.

And then there was her. There was little about her to hint at the strength that lay beneath her skin. He watched the play of muscles under her skin as she tugged and pulled at Ace's limbs, moving them into the proper position. She was too skinny, skin stretched too tight over her body, as if it were trying to strangle the muscles beneath until only bones were left. And yet she had carried that heavy pack from December to here, and had enough energy left to fight him and play with Ace.

Her mind should be equally fragile. After living through the hell she had, there was no viable explanation for the inner strength that she showed. And yet, she met all his challenges and tests with the same unflappable calm. The only real reaction to his prodding he got was after she had killed that man, and then she claimed to be only annoyed. Annoyed? Was that all he got for his hard work? He had finally managed to annoy her? She had managed to annoy him from the first moment he saw her; it seemed hardly fair that he couldn't return the favor more often.

And…the child liked her better. He could see it, and he could feel it. Even while he carried the child, he could feel a distance between them. She kept herself from him, in a way that she didn't with the woman. He watched them, saw the child crawl all over the woman, obviously taking pleasure in their nearness. She had held herself taut in his arms, not relaxing enough to even feel close to him.

It wasn't fair. Why did she like the vermin more? Everyone always liked the vermin more. He cut that train of thought short before he could get any more depressed. His eyes closed as the pain of looking at them grew beyond what he wished to bear. Fine. Let them have their fun. He didn't care; he didn't need to be liked. It was weak of him to even be bothered by such thoughts, and he tried chasing them out of his head. He met with limited success before being attacked at the knees.

His arms wind milled out to the sides as he tried to keep from falling. His eyes flew open and met the clear blue ones of Ace. Her gaze was open and pleading, and his scowl disappeared under the entreaty in her eyes. Short arms reached out to him, begging for a hug, and despite his intentions, he complied. He lifted her up, loving the feel of small arms clinging to his neck. A soft kiss on his cheek both surprised and embarrassed him. He could feel the blush as it spread across his cheeks, and his eyes saw the bemused expression on the woman's face.

"What?" he demanded testily.

"Nothing," she denied, but her mouth quirked in a half-smile that belied her protest.

"You're thinking something," he demanded.

"Only that you two look sweet," she explained, hands up in a warding gesture. "Be careful; you almost look nice."

He rolled his eyes and she laughed. "Want your present now?"

Cautious, he nodded. If she brought the child a gun, he was leery of what she might have bought him. His eyes widened as he saw what she had purchased.

A shirt. Why in the world would she have bought him a shirt? Ace squirmed and he let her down, then went down on one knee to look at his gift a little more closely. His fingertips moved softly over the fabric, and he was surprised at the quality of the cloth and the closeness of the weave. Almost he worried that his fingers were too rough, that they would snag the fabric, but as he picked the shirt up he realized that would not be a problem. It was a very nice piece of clothing, of much greater quality then the things he normally could find to wear. The color was nice as well, a deep blue that appeared to have been dyed in the cotton before the fibers were even twisted.

His eyes drifted towards hers, and he was surprised to see a shadow of concern in them. She actually cared about his response? He toyed with the idea of pretending that he didn't like it, but discarded it almost instantly. They were going to be living together, after all. It might be a good idea to not antagonize her unnecessarily. And… he might not get another nice present.

He let his face relax into a smile and saw an answering one light in her eyes. "It is a very nice gift," he said as he gathered it into his hands. Turning slightly, he pulled off the one he was wearing and dressed.

"Happy?" he asked, and she nodded. It was a peace offering, of sorts. He sat down by her in the sand. "How should we do this?" he asked.

"Do what?" she returned.

"Do this being together thing. It seems like you aren't going to allow me to take the child away." She snorted, he continued. "And for some strange reason you feel bound to let the child have her own way. So, we are going to be…together…for awhile. How do you plan on handling this?"

She shrugged. "Same way I handle everything. I'll take it as it comes."

He shook his head. "That's not what I meant. What are you going to do about sharing her with me?"

She looked at him oddly. "I don't have a problem sharing. I don't have a problem with you being here. I don't have much in the way of problems at all, except I'm expecting that you will be your normal annoying self and try to cause trouble."

He waved that away. "You are saying that you are willing to overlook what I've put you through?"

"I've overlooked a lot of things in my life," she said sadly. "It's a talent honed with much use. I'll be fine; better if you stop playing these little games, but I'll be fine."

"What little games?"

"The little, what-can-she-do games. The little tests you're so fond of. Pushing at me to see if I'm going to break. Your games."

He grunted. "I suppose I'll learn a bit just by watching you," he offered.

She sighed. "Why does everything need to be a competition with you? I'm not a threat, or an ally, or a potential lackey, or whatever is running through your head. I'm just trying to figure out what I'm going to do with my life. Stopping your grand design to destroy humanity sounds like a plausible life's goal, but I'm flexible. Maybe I'll be a baker instead."

Knives looked at her wondering what her babbling signified. She smiled, a sad excuse for mirth. "Don't mind me; I'm just a little depressed at the moment. It's a normal reaction for me after a life or death situation. Next I'll get morose, then I'll get over it. It's all part and parcel of my messed up psyche; I'll kill to stay alive, but am always a bit disappointed that I'm not dead." She shook her head. "Not like you care. I'm sure you're more then willing to permanently cure my disappointment."

He smiled. "You act like you know me so well," he said.

"You have yet to really surprise me," she shot back, but without any heat behind the words.

"Really?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Explain."

She shook her head. "I don't really feel like it. Let's just leave it at I've seen your type before."

"What type is that," he persisted.

"Racist. Sexist. Elitist. Convinced of your utter superiority over every other living being."

"I am not sexist."

"Sure you aren't. I saw the look you gave us when I started teaching Ace this afternoon. And every single time we get around other people, you always dismiss the women as beneath your notice."

"I do not," he protested.

"Oh, yes you do. Quit lying to yourself. You look at me, and instantly you begin to wonder why I'm causing you so much trouble. You forget that I'm an assassin, you forget that I'm a combat veteran from a war whose scope and atrocities you could only begin to imagine, you forget that I know more tricks than you do, and you forget that I have more experience using them than you do. You look at me, you see a woman, and suddenly you think I'm a lot less dangerous than I am. If I were a man, you'd never forget to take me seriously. If I were a man, you wouldn't keep testing me, keep trying to see if you can get a reaction from me."

"If you were a man I would have probably killed you by now," he offered.

She snorted. "Or died trying. See? You automatically dismiss me as a threat because I'm female. It's sexist."

"Fine. I'm sexist. So what?"

"So what nothing. I was just pointing it out."

They fell silent for a moment.

"You obviously don't make many friends," commented Knives.

"Look who's talking," she laughed. A moment later she said, "No, not many friends. Not many people like assassins. Especially not emotionally constipated ones."

"I thought there was a period of time where people didn't know you were an assassin."

"There was, but I did. It's hard to make friends when you know that people would hate you if they found out the truth about you."

Silence fell again.

"You whine a lot, don't you?" he said.

Her head shot up. "I do not whine," she said, indignant.

"Yes you do. All the time. Do you think anyone on this planet cares what you did in your past life? And that's if you could find someone to believe you. But no, you carry this burden of guilt around with you everywhere you go, and you shove it in everyone's face so they will pity you."

She sputtered, but Knives continued over her incoherent protests. "You think that you are so evil. You feel the need to be punished, but your guilt is not enough for you, so you enlist others to punish you as well. You carry the weight of their condemnation and bask beneath their hatred."

"I do not!"

"Yes you do. Otherwise, you wouldn't talk about it so damn much. Well, guess what? No one here cares. Ace likes you, and I really could care less how many people you have killed. So now you are just going to have to live with only your own guilt."

"Live with it? I do nothing but live with it." She held up a hand. "I look at myself, and I see blood dripping from my hands. The blood of so many people, so many dead. I hate it; you're right. I hate myself, no big surprise there. I hate my past, I hate the decisions I made, and you're right. I do think that I deserve the condemnation of everyone I meet. I do. I live in a hell of my own creation."

He grabbed her hand with one of his own and leaned in close. "Listen to me. You are not alone in having the blood of others on your hands. Lots of people have killed; most of them learn to live with it."

"Not as many as I have," she protested.

"So the crime is so horrible not because you killed, but because you killed so many?"

"Yes! No. Dammit, stop being confusing. You aren't one to talk. Between us, we've killed enough to stain the sand red. You have no right to judge me."

"If I don't who does?"

"Someone other then a psychopath," she shot back.

"Who other then a psychopath could truly understand what you have done?" he asked, leaning in even closer, until their eyes were mere inches apart.

Words fled the both of them as their eyes locked. A second felt like an hour, and they slowly trickled by as they both stared, entranced.