What did she expect? He was male, she was female, she knew he wanted her, all those years ago, didn't she know he would react to her…like that?

That she stood, sat, laid near him, that he could not touch her – that was difficult enough. But to tease him so cruelly! His pulse thundered in his ears, his throat. Body tensed, breath whistled between gritted teeth. He made it to the cover of the shack and hastily pulled jeans on.

She swung open the door and stepped inside. He was fastening his pants and held a towel out without looking. She took it and covered herself; he caught another glimpse of her body as she did and ground his teeth together, turning to face the wall. His heart pounded fast.

"What did you want me to say?" he asked. What she wanted…because somehow he didn't think his opinions were particularly important to her, surely they never really were. It made him so hollow.

She didn't respond. But she was laughing, softly, he was sure.

He turned to the sound; she was sitting on the bed with the towel wrapped about her. Her knees were drawn to her chin, towel not hiding everything, her face buried in her hair and knees. Her shoulders quivered slightly with her quiet laughter.

She was laughing? Was she insane? Or this was a joke? Did he miss a punch line? Was HE the punch line?

"You think this is…" his face was getting hot. He turned to punch the door frame. "What the # do you want from me, Vanessa? Why do you have to make this so difficult? I've gone two centuries…There's only so much one can…Aaaah!"

He punched the doorframe again, harder, groaned in frustration again, and sunk down the wall to sit.

"Humiliating," he muttered. "Intolerable."

She was quiet, still.

Blood pooled up where he'd split his knuckles on the wall. He pressed his lips to the blood and the metal taste filled his mouth. The tide of anger pulled back. "Please don't pull stunts like that again."

She pulled her arms from around her knees and set her legs down, into a more modest position.

Her hand went to her forehead, her head still down, tangles of wet hair about her crown.

"Now, I'm going to check on the fields," he stood, and searched for a shirt. "I need to be alone for a while."

Blood smeared on the sleeve as he pulled it on. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to frighten you. I get angry, but I would never hurt you."

The laughing sound started again.

"Stop it!" he yelled.

Her head snapped up at the sound. Her face was a tear-stained mess. That 'laughing' sound was crying.

He knelt down on the floor before her. "I thought you were laughing at me." Should he leave?

It hurt inside. Please don't look like that…He didn't knew she could cry anymore…

Vanessa breathed deeply, slowly.

He waited. She was calming herself down to speak.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, eyebrows drawn together.

Knives felt a wave of relief. "You're forgiven. I just don't get what you were trying to-"

"I think I'm attracted to you, too," she blurted, eyes shut.

There was a pause.

"How confusing that must be for you, here you are, and here I am, and there's no one else."

"But-" she breathed out weakly.

Knives continued, interrupting her. "Body conflicting with the mind. Story of my life; the past 100 years of it, anyway."

She sniffed and swallowed. Pulling her legs closer, she glanced about the room lazily, taking in the various items. "I painted you on my wall. You were always in my dreams. I didn't expect you to change much. I didn't have a plan, I didn't know what you'd do – I expected you to kill me or something."

Knives pressed his fingers to his temples. How many times did he have to say it…

"I kept thinking I should've been nicer to you. You were a murderer, but maybe it was never my place to judge. Punishment and penance are two different things; being away for so long…"

She was smiling slightly. "You've changed; you were thinner, paler, your hands were softer. They're rough now. And you have scars-"

"Like him?"

Vanessa fell silent.

"If I must be second place, won't you stop reminding me?"

"You're not! In Vash, I made a mistake. I wanted, just once, to feel safe. I was afraid of you, you wanted to use me, I had to stay away, but I just couldn't wait anymore, I kind of built it up in my head, what would happen when I got here, which it would be, and you…I don't know which Knives I'm in love with, but I want to think it's 'new Knives,' because that'd be so much easier and far less confusing than-"

"…Love?" he repeated, eyes shifting back and forth as though reading the air between them.

A confession burst from her. "I slept with him, we had Tessla, and it saved everybody, and I thought I loved Vash, maybe I used to, I just really wanted to be like him, but I couldn't, I couldn't be his wife anymore than I could be Tessla's mother, I just couldn't, it didn't work, and I kept painting you and dreaming you, and I hate that word, 'love,' what the hell does that mean, I just knew I wanted to see you again and when I did I felt so much better and you've been kind and understanding, mostly, and patient, I deserve worse, I know, I'm probably insane or something, I'm sorry, I couldn't figure out what I wanted…"

He knew he was pale. "So you think you love me?" That's a new one.

"Basically."

They sat there, wondering what would happen next.

He wasn't sure what that meant. He tried to piece it together from the literature he'd been reading to the plants, but it came to mind as nonsense, since that's what he thought of that stuff. "So…what does that…mean…?" he attempted, cautiously.

Peering up at him with that one oceanic eye and the other milky eye, face marred with lined scars, Vanessa didn't reply. She stared at him, silent, then shrugged.

So she's as confused as me, he thought, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

As he leaned away, she ducked forward and kissed him on the lips. It felt different than before. A century ago, she was pretending she wanted to kiss him. This didn't FEEL like pretending, not anymore.

She wrapped her arms around him and he followed suit. They kissed more, softly at first, but then suddenly feverish. They fell back onto the sheets. Her towel fell away.

When she began to fumble with the buttons on his pants, Knives panicked - he couldn't think straight enough to process what was going on. This was very strange, unfamiliar. Maybe his blood was boiling, maybe he was devolving into an animal. He was losing control of the situation, of himself. There was no stopping it.

She stopped kissing him and drew away. Their eyes met. Her face was red. The way her hands rested on his arms, the way she was looking at him with her eye so black, somehow he knew exactly what was going to happen.

He found himself in what he felt was the correct position and she didn't say a word.

Metal tore aside as a booming sound thundered through the walls of the shack. Knives toppled to the floor and pulled Vanessa with him as he swung to see the gaping hole in the wall.

A second blast rang out, and the roof was gone.

"Anybody alive in there?" a gruff voice shouted.