She could feel Mark's unease as he walked up the stairs behind her. It radiated off him in waves, each hitting her in time with his pulse. It was bad enough that he was almost tying her stomach in knots, and it was all she could do to not turn around and demand for him to stop. Her defenses were tattered today, what with the past weekend, and then this morning, and all the problems she was having with Mark and Effie, and having to respond to having Knives and Vash and all in her life again. She could hardly block anyone's feelings from impacting her, and when it came to someone she already knew well, someone she was attuned to, well…

It was truly amazing she could function.

"You don't have to worry," she said as she put her key in the lock, forgetting that Knives had destroyed the latch. The door pushed open easily, and she frowned. "He's not here." And he left the place wide open to thieves, she didn't say.

"How do you know?" he asked testily.

"Because I would be able to sense him if he were here," she said, pushing the door the rest of the way open and slipping out of her jacket. Maybe he went to go find a locksmith. Or another doorknob. She tossed the jacket on the couch then turned towards the bedroom.

"How?" he persisted, following after, not allowing her a moment of privacy. She wondered if that was because of his curiosity or because of his orders.

"Because I'm a plant. And he's a plant. And I would know if he was that close." She smiled a little as she heard him follow her into the bedroom. Maybe he would tell her if she asked. If she could be so cruel as to make him think about what he was doing… No, better to let him react. He might react to a friend, but remember to think about his enemy. "It's a bit like… hearing. He makes a certain noise that other plants can hear."

"Do you make that noise?" he asked, tension peaking in his voice as she opened the armoire.

"Nope. I'm sneaky; I mask it."

"Why?"

"Because I'm in the habit of being sneaky, mostly. I'm not comfortable with the thought that people can sense me whenever I get near. Bugs me." She stripped off her shirt and threw a glance over her shoulder to catch him blushing. Not like he hadn't basically see all of her back last weekend as her shirt had been a mess, but guys could be funny. She was wearing a bra, for crying out loud. What was so blush-worthy to see?

He was cute while he blushed, but he was also looking at her side closely. "That's… it looks different, there."

"Where I got shot?" She sat on the bed and half-scooted, half-rolled closer to him so he could get a better look, dragging her new shirt in her left hand. "Yes, it does. The skin's still new and fresh. And if you look, you can see where I got cut when you beat me up, like here, here, and here," she said, pointing to the afflicted areas.

He glanced at the places she motioned to, then looked her in the eyes. "You are taking this whole thing very calmly."

"Would it help if I screamed?" she said with a sigh. "I'm used to being beaten up. It's honestly normal for me. Sometimes, when I thought about how long it had been since the last time someone had hurt me, I would get this weird, tight feeling in my stomach, like there was something wrong. Isn't that sad?" she mused as she pulled her shirt on. "Anyway, unlike you, I've had some inkling that a day like this was coming. Mentally, I'm prepared. Mostly. As much as I can be really."

"You're used to being hurt?"

"I didn't flinch, did I?" she said sadly, then stood and didn't look him in the eye any longer. "Let's go back to work."

"Let's not. Not until you answer me. Who hurt you? Knives? Vash?"

She laughed. "Vash wouldn't hurt anyone unless they forced him to. He hates the concept of death, and the reality of pain with a passion I can scarcely comprehend, let alone understand."

"Was it Millions, then?"

"He didn't hurt me very much. Nothing more than I deserved."

"What? You deserved?" She stayed silent. "Who then? Who hurt you?"

She looked at the ground. "My step-father," she whispered.

"Plants don't have families."

She turned and gave him a crooked smile, but still didn't meet his eyes. "I am not the normal sort of plant. It's a long, boring, and frankly, unbelievable story, and we need, I need to get back to work." She swallowed past the tight feeling in her throat. She stepped forward, looking ahead of her again, but couldn't go very far. Mark's hand encircled her upper arm, not tightly, but firmly. She could break that hold, but not without breaking him.

"Let go of me, Mark. I'm tired of hurting you."

"Then stop lying to me. What the hell sort of creature are you?"

"I'm not lying to you."

"But you aren't telling me anything," he said, his voice breaking on the last word. He let go of her arm, his own falling to lie limply and uselessly at his side while he tried to think of something he could say or do to make her talk to him.

Her shoulders slumped suddenly, and she turned and looked him in the eyes.

"I'm a reincarnated soul. Doesn't that sound silly?" Then she smiled that crooked little smile again and walked away.