Whoa… dialogue heavy…

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"So, how've you been?" Anne croaked as she weakly batted away Knives' arms, trying instead to stand on her own.

"Life has been good. You?" He stepped back, face growing still as he tried to hide the hurt.

"I've had better days," she admitted, throwing out an arm for support as her wounded leg threatened to crumble under her. Knives quickly moved back to help her, sliding one arm under her shoulders and taking a good deal of her weight as she leaned against him. Her breath hissed through her teeth as she fought pain with every slow, halting step.

For a whole seven steps.

Then Knives quickly leaned down, pulled her off her feet, and held her close to his chest.

"Hey, I can walk," she protested weakly.

"Yes. You have proven that. But we should get out of here before dawn, don't you think?"

"I'm not that slow," she mumbled.

"Yes, you are."

She relaxed in his arms, feeling safe and protected, relaxing her guard enough to enjoy the sensation of being rescued. Shifting her shoulders a fraction, she moved closer to him, close enough to bury her face in his chest.

He smelled good. She had forgotten just how good, and the reminder was heavenly.

"I bet you're mad at me," she said into his chest, voice muted.

"I have been."

"A lot?" she asked sadly.

"At times."

"Right now?"

"No. Not right now. Right now I'm merely annoyed."

"Are you going to shoot me? I shot you when I was annoyed."

"No. I'm not going to shoot you. Not right now, at least," he amended.

"Oh."

"Don't worry. Right now this is only a rescue."

"Oh."

A long, pregnant pause.

"What do you mean, oh?"

"I can't believe I need to be rescued. That's just… so very sad. I'm the rescuer, not the rescuee."

"Everyone gets an off day."

"It's been a rough… what day is it now?"

"Saturday."

"It's been a rough couple days."

"Looks like."

Anne fell silent again. There were a lot of things she wanted to say, wanted to ask. Most importantly, she wanted to know if he missed her at all, but the words got stuck in her throat when she tried to say them.

"Take me home," she said instead.

"All right. We'll have to stop and get everyone, but we can be there soon."

She looked up at him, puzzled. "Are they close by? My apartment is only a few blocks away."

"Oh. No, they aren't that close. I thought you might have…" his voice trailed off.

"No. I didn't," she replied, figuring that he thought she had meant the ship. "I have a little place in the Rose Quarter."

"I see."

"For computer access."

"Oh."

"I'm a researcher," she explained.

"Oh, that's nice."

"Most days." She relaxed and let her head drop. It just took so much energy to try to stay awake, and he was swaying and rocking her as he walked…. She fought the threat of unconsciousness. She had to give directions to her place, or who knew where she would end up?

"What exit are we taking?" she asked, mind wandering to the need to give directions.

"Vehicle bay."

"We don't need to steal another car," she said portentously. "I live closer than that." A pause. "We will want to turn… right."

"That is the way to the Rose Quarter."

"You know that?"

"I have been to December before."

"Oh. That's right, you're really old."

Vash laughed. She looked over Knives' shoulder and smiled at him.

"Hi, Vash."

"Hello, Kiley."

"How've you been?"

"Good enough."

"How's the baby?"

"He's all grown up, much to Meryl's disgust. I think she wonders where her little boy went, some days."

"You had a boy? How nice. Does he look like you?"

Vash nodded. "But he has Meryl's eyes," he amended.

She smiled again and closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, everything around them had changed. The walls of the plant no longer surrounded them, replaced instead by the walls of the buildings on the way to her place.

"Take a left at the next corner," she said, her voice cracking a little.

"You awake?"

"Of course," she said, a bit hurt. "I just took a little nap."

"Oh. Yes, a nap."

She pretended that she didn't see the concerned look that Knives shot at Vash. She was fine. But she kept her eyes open, just in case.

She directed them to her apartment building. Vash opened the outside door and held it for Knives to carry her through. The building was quiet, everyone asleep, and the plants cautiously crept up to the fifth floor.

"Damn," Anne said softly as they reached her door.

"What?" asked Knives.

"I don't have my keys."

"That's easily remedied," he said, then crouched down, resting her on one leg as he reclaimed his left arm. Sliding his fingers along the jam, he formed blades that sliced easily through the bolt.

While he was doing that, Anne looked at Vash, noticing the sunglasses for the first time. "You guys were in a fight, weren't you?" she said, accusingly.

He rubbed the back of his head and ducked his neck. His eyes locked onto hers over the tops of his sunglasses, clearly embarrassed. "Yes," he said, tentatively.

"You said that no one was dead," she accused Knives.

"No one is. They will all heal. Eventually."

"What did he do?" she asked Vash.

"He broke their arms," he reported sadly.

"Which arm?"

"Right."

"Upper or lower."

"Lower."

"Good."

"What?"

"That'll heal up easily enough. Clean breaks?"

"Yes," said Knives with some asperity, tired of being talked around. "The humans will be fine," he reported as he slid his arm under her again and carried her over the threshold of her apartment. "Now worry about yourself."