A few days passed, seemingly quickly at times, and dragging by at others. Kiley continued to work on her compilation of tricks, and Knives developed a tendency towards wandering around the ship a lot. He popped his head into the room she had chosen to work in a few times and tried to look over her shoulder, but she closed down the file each time he tried for an unauthorized glimpse. He asked a couple times what she was working on, but she waved him off and he allowed his curiosity to go unchecked. He did go behind her back to make sure that she wasn't doing anything that could harm the ship, but after he saw that she was working in a text file, he let it alone. She promised that he would see the fruits of her labors in less than a week, and he was mostly content to wait.

Kiley spent hours typing, working hard on her opus. It took shape under her fingers, her mind molding it, making it easy to follow. She was afraid at time that she was making it too easy, that she was over-explaining things. She was careful to explain everything in detail, afraid to skip over something that was obvious to her. Just because she knew something didn't mean that Knives would. Her background was much different from his; their childhoods, their worlds, everything. She didn't want to cause problems that she wouldn't… maybe… be there to fix. So she carefully went over every detail in her mind, hashing out every thought, every motion, every factor and potential factor that went into a trick.

Then she had to parse down the number of tricks she knew to the ones she felt she should teach. Some of the more instantly lethal tricks she dismissed out of hand. One person knowing those on this planet was one too many. She would be happy if they died with her, would be happy if she didn't have to know them anymore, herself. And if she did have to teach them to someone, Knives would not be her first choice. Or her second. Or anywhere near her top one hundred. He was lethal enough already; he didn't need the help.

After one long session of dancing about the dangerous tricks in search of some that were useful, she sighed and buried her head in her arms. She was tired, and drained, and wondering if she should even be doing this. This was hard. Much harder than teaching him herself would be. Much harder than staying, waking up every morning to Knives, and Ace, and being loved. So why didn't she give up? Why did she keep working so hard on this? Sometimes she buried the answer, but this time she allowed it to float up to where she was able to ponder it.

She was scared. Scared to stay. She could admit that, if only at times like these, when she was alone and tired. Who was she to be happy? When her life had fallen apart, part of her had welcomed it, welcomed the pain and everything that came after. She deserved the evil things that happened to her. No part of her questioned her need for punishment. But is was very hard for her to believe that she deserved happiness. Someone like her? The notion could barely enter the realm of possibility before being laughed back across the barrier to fantasy.

She rested her chin on her crossed arms and remembered the last time she could be considered happy. Even then, it hadn't been like this… No, more like she was content with what she was doing, that she could help where others could not. That there was someone to hold her in the night when her demons invaded her dreams. That she had a purpose. Most people hated combat, hated the danger. She thrived on it, on the rush, on dancing that fine line between coming home victorious or decaying. She hadn't really cared about the danger, then. It was all a game, death something she richly deserved, so she didn't fear the consequences of her actions.

But now? She didn't want to die now. She wanted to stay here, wanted to live, wanted to love, wanted to wake up and go to sleep and have nothing of consequence happen during the day. That sounded like such a peaceful way to be.

But how long would that last? How long until Knives noticed she wasn't aging? She was sure that even with the warmer side of his nature showing he had not given over his crusade. Would it be five years, or even ten, before he actively started planning the decimation of humanity once more? And would he pester her to help? She didn't want to see him use what she taught him to cause death. She had seen enough.

She sighed again and closed her eyes, the light from the monitor annoying her retinas as she mindlessly stared at it. She had to admit that he had a righteous grievance. The people on this planet were acting like parasites, siphoning away the lives of his sisters. Hers, too, she guessed. There had to be some way to solve this dilemma, some way of stopping the drain without having to resort to genocide. She just couldn't see it, not yet. But she was sure it was out there, some solution, if she could just find it…

She opened her eyes and drummed her fingers on the table. That's what she'd do. She go out and fix this problem. Then she and Knives could go off and live happily ever after, without having to worry about any deep, traumatic issues like the future of the planet and its inhabitants. Maybe… they would go start a vineyard. She liked growing things, he liked wine. It could work out. It was a plan. It was a good plan. Maybe a little fuzzy on the details, but she could deal with that piddly stuff when she had to.

She sat up and started to type again, refreshed. She had a plan.