Kiley awoke, her eyes slowly opening, her brain barely processing. All the food had made her a bit logy. So it took a while for her eyes to focus. And see another pair of blue eyes, close. Very close.

Startled, she jumped away, hitting her back on the wall. She winced, and the face attached to the eyes laughed at her. Her mind started to work again, and if she hadn't hurt herself, she probably would have found it funny too.

But she had hurt herself, so she spared a moment from her wincing to glare at him. "That wasn't funny," she accused.

"Yes it was," he countered, sitting on the side of her bed, one hand resting on her knee. She suppressed the urge to move it away. His hand was warm, very warm. She wondered idly if he was running a bit of a fever.

She glared again, decided that he was healthy, and rubbed her spine. "That's going to bruise," she remarked to the pillow. The pillow did not respond, but Knives laughed again.

"You don't blink when you break your arm, but whine when you bruise your back. Interesting dichotomy."

"I'm whining because you woke me up; the bruise is incidental. Besides, back injuries can be nasty." She changed the subject. "What do you want?"

"To talk."

"Talk then," she sighed, sitting up. Knives' hand trailed down to her ankle, but he didn't stop touching her as she moved. She fought a blush and won. Maybe it had been awhile since anyone had touched her like they enjoyed it, but that was no reason to blush like an innocent. Which she wasn't.

"Well… I was wondering what your plans were. I mean, for while you're here. Obviously, teaching me," he said blithely, and she snorted, "but you must have other hobbies."

She shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not really hobby oriented. Never really had any spare time. I'm not very good at just sitting around. It feels weird."

"Slow times are good for planning things out."

"Plans? What? Are we supposed to hash out how you're going to destroy humanity and I'm going to stop you over the dinner table?"

He stopped smiling. "Well, no…"

"Then what exactly am I supposed to be planning? I'm not a psychotic, trying to chance the world to fit my vision of perfection. Even when I was trying to get into politics I was never that crazy. "

"That's up to you," he said, smiling again and squeezing her ankle. "I'm sure you can come up with something important to do with your time."

"You had to wake me up to be so helpful?" she snarled.

He let go. "No… I was waking you up because I wanted to talk to you."

"You said that."

He looked at her, cocking his head to the right. "Why are you in such a bad mood?"

She sighed. "No reason I feel like sharing." Like hell she was telling him she was thinking about leaving. He thought he had her trapped here. He might, even, though she doubted that. But if he had any clue that she was thinking of running out, he would check and recheck every egress, and she would never get out. If she wanted to. Which she wasn't sure of, yet.

"I thought women always wanted to talk. I mean, it's not like you can ever get them to shut up. Always going on about their problems and kids and such," he mused.

"You really aren't helping your case here," she informed him, then leaned forward and rested her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes and sighed. Why did this have to feel so right? Why was she willing to leave here? Why couldn't she be content to stay? The feelings and reasons that had been floating around in her head clamored for her attention, but she pushed them away. She didn't want to think about that right now.

His hands slowly came up and snaked softly around her, lightly holding her to him. "What's wrong?" he asked softly.

"We are. We're all wrong. You, me, it's all wrong."

"I know." One hand stroked her hair as she scooted closer.

"How am I supposed to make plans? How am I supposed to think about tomorrow when I don't even know how today is going to end?"

"I don't know."

"Then what do you know? How am I supposed to know that you aren't going to wake up tomorrow and decide that since I'm human I need to die? Or that you're mad at me and I'm human and it's a good time to kill me?"

"I'm not going to do that."

"How sure are you? Because I'm betting my life every day I'm near you, aren't I? You and your annihilation of the human race program. Why not start with me?"

"I'm not going to kill you."

"Promise?" She looked up at him.

His face was solemn as he nodded. "I promise."

"Good." She laid her head on his shoulder again.

"Ace would kill me," he continued.

Kiley thumped him on the back.

He leaned his head on top of hers. "I don't know what has happened to me."

"Me, either. I thought, coming here, that all my dreams would come true. And now they have, or almost, and I find that I don't know what to do anymore."

"Your dreams?"

"I wanted to be loved. I want peace. And I can have them both, but they aren't what I thought I'd be getting."

He held her closer. "You came here for love?"

She nodded against his shoulder.

"And you were sent to me?"

She nodded again. "Hard to believe, I know."

"Amazing that someone thought we could be compatible at all."

"Even more amazing that they could be right." He didn't say anything, but held her closer still. She relaxed against him, basking in the warmth he radiated. "My life is so crazy," she sighed, then said nothing more for a while.