Strong arms encircled her waist, then lifted her into the air.

"Hey… What…" she protested as she was slung over one shoulder. She had managed to grab her bag and proceeded to beat on his back with it. "Let me go, you big oaf!" He walked back into the ship, and the slow closing of the door behind them sent a jolt of panic through her.

"I thought you would be a little slow to realize that I am the one in charge," he said conversationally, one hand resting on her rear as he tried to keep her on his shoulder. She wriggled more at this unauthorized liberty, finally dropping her bag and grabbing his other shoulder. Back creaking with the effort, she used the leverage to pull herself down his arm.

"What the--" squawked Knives as she slid to the floor. She tried to roll away but hit her bag before she could gain enough clearance to get to her feet. The impact of hitting the floor and then her bag jarred her, and his hands were on her again before she could catch her breath. She twisted, trying to keep him from getting a good grip, but he managed to grab her hand and shoulder before she could free her right arm from under her body.

"Dammit, Knives," she yelled, the sound echoing painfully in the small corridor. "Is this really what you want?"

He paused. "What?"

She finally freed her other arm. Glaring at him, shaking off his lax hold, she picked it up and held it across her body, then scooted away until her back rested against a wall. She sat there for a moment, breath hissing painfully through her teeth as she checked the arm. A quick glance at her knees and a niggling reminder of decency had her cross her ankles and smooth the dress so she wasn't flashing him.

He looked down at her while she fussed, silently staring, waiting for her to speak.

"I came here, didn't I?" she said finally, waving her left hand for emphasis. "Doesn't that imply something to you?"

"I win?" he said without thinking, then winced at her expression.

"It's not a battle, Knives. It's a relationship. There aren't winners and losers; it's supposed to be a partnership."

"Who says this is a relationship?" he asked coldly.

"Do you just want a slave?" she asked rhetorically. "If that's all you want, go kidnap some nubile young thing. I know you can find more attractive women if that's the only thing you're looking for."

He sighed, then leaned back against the other side of the corridor, arms folded, and glared at her.

"You are trying to make things complicated," he accused, then slid down the wall and sat much like she did.

"Things already are complicated. I'm just trying to define just what exactly those things are. Like, what exactly do you want from me?"

"More of those tricks of yours. Your help in exterminating the vermin." He blushed. "Bed things." He turned a bright shade of red.

She was polite enough to not laugh, even though she found that look entirely too cute for words. "Is that it?" she prompted.

His gaze traced the path of conduits on the ceiling. "No. I… want your help with Ace."

"Is that it?"

"What more do you need?"

"Lines, Knives. Lines to define this picture we're making."

"That's it," he growled, but wouldn't meet her eyes. "What do you want out of this?"

"Well… I want your help raising Ace. I want to be near you. I want to make like the fuzzy little bunnies. I want to hold you, and be held by you, to make you grow up, to help you lose the anger that eats at the inside of you. To have a place where I can leave the world behind. To feel safe. To save the planet. To figure out your favorite food and surprise you with breakfast in bed. To wake up some morning and not have to do anything at all. To know peace."

"Cake."

She looked up at him. "Huh?"

He picked at the knee of his jeans, then looked at her. "My favorite food is chocolate cake."

"Oh." She looked at him, surprised that he wasn't back in his ship suit. Actually, he was wearing the shirt that she had bought him, and that sight made her smile slightly, hopefully. "Did… you miss me? At all?" she asked tentatively.

He nodded, not meeting her eyes. "Ace missed you. We thought you would catch up to us before we got to the ship."

"I tried," she said. "I couldn't. I'm sorry."

"But you did come. I thought you might."

"Hoped?"

"Yeah. That, too."

She stood up, still cradling her arm. He started to rise, but she waved him back down. She sat by him and rested her head on his shoulder. He stiffened, then relaxed, his arm snaking over her shoulders and drawing her closer. She sighed and closed her eyes, breathing deep of that wonderful scent of him.

"It's too bad that moments like these are only the punctuation after long times figuring out what they mean."

"Why do we have to figure out what it means?" he asked softly. "Why can't we just let what happens, happen?"

"Because I'm a girl. And I need to know these things."

He sighed. "Women are unnecessarily complicated."

"But soft and squishy in all the right places," she chirped.

He sighed. "I want you for more than being soft and squishy."

"I know. That's why things get complicated. If it makes you feel any better, all relationships are complex. It's not just us."

He stiffened. "Relationship?"

"Have a better word?"

"Thing?"

"Good and descriptive. We have a thing. Which differs from a relationship in what way?"

He relaxed a bit. "It's not as scary a word."

"So, not scary words describing a scary thought make the thought better?"

"I'm a guy," he explained. "We don't do the whole relationship thing."

"I see that." She sighed and drew closer to him. "But I think I want you anyway."