He'd calculated, long ago, that there was insufficient power to terraform this planet. There were still a few buried wrecks capable of flight. The sensor in his chest pocket could show him the way, as well as the location of the settlement, though Vanessa's memories had shown him that as well. If he fixed himself up, he could make it back to the gardens, slaughter them all, except Callisto, he supposed, then on to the settlement to wipe out the remainder of the humans. Hop in a functioning shuttle, attempt to make it to Earth, to kill at least some of them? There were a lot of unknowns in that equation.

Really, how could anyone stoop to such lows? Sure, he'd killed many, and hired many to kill many. But that was all in the past. And to have used rape as a weapon? He would've never done such a thing. Given the chance to take Vanessa by force, he didn't.

He'd really wanted to, too.

Feathers, wings, fluttering, someone woke him. He didn't know he'd been asleep until he woke, and found that the second sun had already begun to rise. A buzzard creature was feasting on toma bits nearby.

Sitting up slowly, Knives winced at his injuries. His clothes were stuck into his wounds in several places.

She was laying on a blanket, curled up, resting her head on her backpack. Her chin was tucked against her chest, hands resting gently beside her face. Only feet away, she was asleep.

Knives frowned, remembering. He absentmindedly flexed his left hand as he turned to face her.

Kill her.

I should kill her.

I should put her out of her misery.

But he hesitated, knowing how he'd regret this.

He regretted…so many things.

Shuffling on his knees, closer, he reflected upon how a quick slice to the brain would kill her. It would not be a fitting death for her, but at least she would be at peace.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, hoping she'd hear him in whatever dream she was dreaming. "I wish I could've helped you, then. Protected you. But I suppose I only hurt you," he continued, whispering as quietly as he could, down into her pointed ear. "If those humans hadn't interrupted us, I would've-" He recalled that time weeks ago, when he was so very close to having sex with her, but was blown off and away by the explosion. His back had already begun to scar from it. The nausea returned. "I'm sorry I took advantage of you. Goodbye," he added, in parting, as he resolved to loose his blades upon her skull.

O

O

"You weren't taking advantage of me; it was my idea!" she announced, rising from the blanket. Apparently, she hadn't been asleep after all. "Remember seeing the therapy I went through, on Earth? I'm pretty sure I could have a normal, 'healthy' sexual relationship…not that that's ever going to happen again. Do me a favor and try to HIDE your disgust," she added sarcastically, lifting one eyebrow at him. "Poor you, you almost copulated with damaged goods."

Lowering and relaxing his arm, Knives sat and his mind went blank for a moment. He was actually going to kill her? Why?

"We're not going to have a fun time getting to Glaston if we wait any longer. Don't want to travel in the heat without water for very long," she instructed, rolling her blanket up into the backpack. "So, if you're not going to do something about your wounds, if you're not ready to TALK to me yet, we'd best go."

He wouldn't stop staring at her. Again. But this time, his expression was odd – his brows were knitted in a sort of confusion or frustration, his mouth hanging open limp. His nostrils were flared a little. His face was very pale, his eyes very wide and sad.

"Knives," she began, carefully, crouching before him, "We're even. And I'm fine. I'm over it. I FORGAVE them."

Feeling his need to destroy more or less melt away, Knives wondered if he could accept that. If humans could be forgiven. "They don't deserve your forgiveness."

"If they became good people afterwards, really felt guilt, then they DO deserve forgiveness. If not, they're rotting in Hell right now. Either way, I feel much better. And to be honest, you've given me moments that…they're basically the only moments I've had, ever, that were perfectly happy – the guilt and sadness and all of it, it just melted away. Thank you for that. Anyhow, stop apologizing. Let's try not to hurt each other anymore, ok? I don't want to fight you. Let's…NOT kill each other. Ok?"

With some measure of reluctance, Knives rose. He brushed sand from his rear and his back. Clutching his throbbing arm to his chest, he was sore, and he couldn't reach to rub away all of it, all over his back, stuck to his clothes with sweat.

Vanessa reached over to shake it from the back of his head, off of his shoulders, his back. She went to finish up, to wipe the sand from the cheek he'd slept on, but drew back. "Sorry," she mumbled, remembering that upon her offer to bandage him, he'd rather bleed. He didn't want her to touch him…Maybe, never again.

He wiped away the sand himself, frowning at her. Turning, he went to the medical supplies and pulled out cotton gauze and tape. Slowly, he pulled away the cloth from his shin, his forearm, out of the soft, wet scabbing. Eyes narrowed, watering, he ignored the need to disinfect, not yet, and applied bandaging to himself. It smarted to stand. But stand he did, and he shuffled toward her, alongside her as they began their trek to the complex.

Glancing over, he noticed her eyes downcast, somber. Wishing her to smile, he reached up with his uninjured arm and mussed the back of her hair, playfully, like he did to the cats.

She gazed up, bewildered.

He stopped and gave her a lingering hug. Finally she was smiling, and he resumed his place alongside her, to walk the sands.

"Things will be alright," he reflected, casting his crystal blue eyes upon the horizon before them.

She sighed slightly, relieved that he was speaking, as well as to react to his optimism. "It's like a vacation. From farming and stuff." Vanessa stretched out her arm and passed her hand across the distance. "Just you and me…and the plants…and the open road."

He chuckled. "They'd better take care of the cats," he muttered.

"We can check on things…whenever…"

"Mm Hmm."

"Knives?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you be killing anyone?" she asked, sweetly, tucking her hands behind the straps of her backpack.

He thought. "I'm not thinking about it, right now."

She laughed aloud.

"I don't want to." Knives added, clearing his throat.

"Clean slate?"

"Clean slate." He smiled, mussing her hair again.

"Stop it," she snapped, waving his hands away. But she was grinning.

"Today," he told her, running his hand across a scarred cheek that suddenly could be described as beautiful, "will be a very good day."

She smirked, closing her eyes at his touch, feeling the warmth of the suns fill her through and through.

Yes. It will be.