Hands in pockets, head down, Knives' eyes flitted about the sand before him as he sauntered back to the barn he'd be sleeping in. He wouldn't likely get much sleep, though, since it was quite late and would be morning soon. That night, he'd been busy. After all, the humans were coming, and he only had two more days to prepare.

A fiendish smile crept across his face for a moment, then was pulled quickly into a straight smirk. Once inside the barn, in the musty, musky air of the barn, he closed off the doors behind and let out a low chuckle. Amused with himself, Knives climbed the ladder to the supplies loft in the back, towards the makeshift bedding he'd arranged for himself.

He climbed and, when he could see over the floor of the loft, his eyes met Vanessa's. She was seated on dirty planks beside his blankets, cross-legged and hunched over a large canteen. Upon her face was a truly puzzled expression, and when her eye met Knives' face, she glanced away nervously, fiddling with the lid of the canteen.

Knives paused mid-climb, nose at floor level. Clearing his throat dramatically, he plainly asked, "Is she doing alright?"

Eyes still averted, Vanessa nodded glumly. "She'll live. She isn't used to being sentient, yet."

And what did she say to you? he wanted to ask. "I could never hurt you, or her," he said seriously, stepping slowly up the remainder of the ladder rungs, to sit at the edge, letting his legs dangle down. He looked out over the barn floor, over the huddled masses of cats and slumbering toma. "I couldn't."

"Because we're plants," she added, nodding. "I know."

"Well, yes," he responded, honestly. "That much comes naturally to me."

"It does, NOW, huh?"

"You came here to interrogate me? Get a confession?" Knives grumbled. "I want to be alone, isn't that obvious?"

"How alone?" she asked, enigmatically.

"I suppose that depends on you."

"No, it depends on YOU."

"Vanessa, WHAT!" Knives demanded. "Is an argument, now, going to help anything? What's lost is lost, please stop rubbing salt in my wounds-"

She scoffed at the comment. He doubted she understood his meaning.

They sat stewing like that, until Knives yawned in spite of himself.

"What are we going to do?" Vanessa asked sternly.

"I'm going to disappear. That or you two are going to leave. Whichever."

Vanessa shook her head. "Day after tomorrow, what are we going to do about the raiders?"

He turned and studied her expression for a moment. "We…take her and hide in Glaston. I don't want you getting hurt, and I-"

Her brows were knitting together, and he couldn't read her expression in the dark. "What are you-" she began to ask, speaking in a low hush through gritted teeth.

"Can't you just trust me?" he sighed.

She bit her lip. "No. I can't."

"Thanks," he snapped angrily.

"Can we please work together on this?" she pleaded.

"Absolutely not," he insisted, haughtily. "You're going to Glaston with Callisto. Hide there, like I told you. Easiest way for me to revert back to a raving lunatic is to witness one of you hurt," he sneered, turned away.

She remembered, he knew. As well as he, she had his memories, had stolen them from him as he slept. He'd begun to hope she'd learned to see past what he was, to see who he became. While he wasn't willing to say that everything he'd done was wrong, he knew that the logic he'd been using was flawed. Vash was right, that he shouldn't have crashed the ships. After all, he'd killed many fellow plants in the Fall, and had forced mankind into the difficult situation that led to the indefinite dependence upon the plants. In essence, he came to see that he was responsible for some of the evils he sought retribution for. How flawed he had been, indeed.

Vanessa suddenly rose and re-seated herself beside him, at his left. She poked his hand. "Show me?" she asked, referring to an angel arm memory exchange.

He thought. Maybe it would do, to earn her trust. But maybe he shouldn't need that do to it. "Whatever you saw, I could change my mind. It wouldn't help you to predict what I'll do to them."

She sighed slowly.

"You think you know what you'll find in here," he added, tapping his temple. "You don't give me much credit. Considering what you saw before, I suppose you can't be blamed. I'll offer a wager – after this whole 'human debacle' is over, if you still want to, I'll show you. But you have to show me yours, too."

She bowed her head and pulled her hands into her lap.

"Oh," he caught himself, "I didn't mean…I was talking about memories."

Instead of responding, she rose silently and moved to the ladder. As she descended, he watched, lips drawn tight. She padded quietly across the barn floor beneath him and let moonlight spill inside when she cracked a door open to leave.

"I can't win," he muttered to himself, rising and arranging his 'bed.' "I'll always be the bad guy."