Disclaimer: Why is it we have to point out we don't own Trigun when we obviously don't? Oh well, someday I might own Trigun, but not today...

READ THIS FIRST- Hello! Firstly, I have decided to re-write this, as my writing style has changed considerably since the beginning of this story, and the text and style of writing found in the most recent chapters doesn't fit with the text in the majority of the chapters, and it's been bothering me a lot. The older chapters (such as this one) will be updated at random because I'm also still working on the new chapters. So if all of a sudden the writing style changes, then that's the reason for it. Gomen nasai for understanding ^^

But on to the fic….This is an after-anime story, and, obviously, if focused on the anime (due to the fact it's easier to draw upon than the manga) But I'm trying to incorporate a more manga-ish feel to it as I didn't feel Knives was portrayed very well in the anime (ie: not quite so much the heartless psychopath he is made out to be in the anime, he does have reasons and feelings) But I've prattled on far too long; on with the fic!!

Chapter One: A Rough Beginning

Buried deep as you can dig inside yourself,
and hidden in the public eye.
Such a stellar monument to loneliness.

Dashboard Confessional- The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most

The light of the multiple screens displayed before him shone in Millions Knives' eyes as he sat in the monitor room of his ship quietly surveying the barren land that the multiple screens displayed. It was quite boring, really. Nothing to do and no one to kill. Sighing, he formed a pillow for his head with intertwining fingers and gazed still out at the sand. Life was a bore again. Reflecting on his lifetime, he concluded that he had spent so much time focusing on his genocide of the spiders and making Vash suffer for turning against him that he had focused on naught else. A painful thought echoed hollowly and angrily in his head: his brother, blood and kin, had turned against him and was still out there living and protecting the lives of the worthless vermin. Why? He had always wondered. He knew that Vash was somewhat thickheaded, but to actually feel feelings towards humans? Of all the possible creatures on Gunsmoke, Vash had to choose to feel towards the very vermin that would kill him.

He would rather Vash love a Thomas than a human. He would rather Vash love him than anyone else on the planet. How had all this come to be? He wondered, rising from the chair in a swift effortless motion, and moving to the small window in the room; gazing listlessly out at the swirling sand. A frown creased his prominent brow as he wondered what he had done to push Vash so far away from him. For the humans were the source of their race's problems; leeching the life from their sisters and stealing their very life as they lay helpless in the bulbs, and he was only trying to protect Vash from infecting him with their foolish ideals and ignorance such ad Rem had done.

Rem.... how he hated her. Though she was dead she seemed to haunt him in his dreams, telling him that he had foolishly pushed his only family away form him forever. He knew he should ignore her; for she was a mere statistic now; dead ages long past yet still fresh enough in his memory to conjure herself up in his dreams; when he was unable to defend himself from her persistence. He saw her as the source of all his problems; it was her fault the humans had survived the crash, and it was her stupid ideals that had caused his brother to pull away from him like he did. It was because Vash thought he killed Rem that he wouldn't see the truth. Yet, he concluded bitterly, he was falsely accused of the crime, as Rem had made her own choice and had chosen to embrace death rather than watch the rest of her disgusting species plummet unceremoniously to the planet below. Humans were so complicated, he huffed angrily. They were so complicated and self-absorbed that they couldn't keep their own problems to themselves and instead opted to burden others with the consequences of their actions, such as Rem had done. He sighed angrily at the sand outside for not entertaining him. Everything had been so placid since his return to his ship. 'Twas true, he had taken great joy in irking Vash and the useless women that hung about him night and day like watchful birds, but he had been disgusted by their mere presence, and refused to stay and live with his brother and his woman Meryl. He had promised his brother that he wouldn't cause him any trouble while the women were alive; that he would give his brother that, at least: a peaceful life for a while. Yet there was nothing to do now, he had found. He had taken up cooking to pass the time, but had easily mastered that meager housewife's art within a matter of days and a few flattened soufflés later. Yet here he sat again, with nothing to do, no one to preside over, and- more importantly- no one to kill. He wished fervently that Legato were here to take his aggressions out on. The spineless vermin had adored him- perhaps even loved him- and had always been more than willing to be beaten into the sandy earth again and again until the sand was stained with his filthy, unclean blood at his master's will. He had always been able to freely take out his aggressions on Legato, and that stupid piece of filth would come crawling back on hands and knees, wanting more. He had been a good and loyal pet to him, and Knives touched often upon the thought of his departed servant. Yet Legato had provided him with a double-edged sword when he died: he had served his purpose by making Vash betray his vow, yet had left him alone with none to serve him and release his anger upon. He pounded and angry fist against the wall, he needed to release his anger somehow. He needed to kill

Struck by this revelation, he moved quickly to the monitors and brought up a map of the surrounding area. His eyes scanned the screen until he found a relatively small town less than ten iles away. His lips peeled back in a smile; he would creep into their town and silently kill someone in the street with his Blades, striking them down and sending the surrounding people into a panic; unable to tell from where the blow came, who had done such a terrible thing, and weather it was a stranger or one of their own. He licked his lips at the prospect of finally shedding some blood after his long months of confinement, and shut off the screen before striding out the door and into the swirling sand.

************************************************************************

The mid-afternoon sun beat down into Knives' eyes as he glanced up at the position of the twin balls of light moving slowly across the clear blue sky. He had been walking for nearly two hours and, although had calmed down considerably, had pushed aside his thoughts of returning to his ship, for he sensed that something unnatural was out here, amongst the dunes and sand, with him. The feeling had blossomed in his mind mere moments after exiting his ship, and had only increased since. Something unnatural; something strange; something alien had caught his attention, and he intended to find out what that something was.

He had broken into a run at this, discarding his thoughts of bloodshed for this far more intriguing situation. He had been cooped up far too long, and, like any man in confinement, now strained for the unknown. He had become worried as he ran, as the mental signal, this cry, had reduced itself to a mere pinprick at the back of his mind that, causing only a small itch at the back of his eyes, as opposed to the near-migraine he had received because of it before. This worried him greatly; as, even now at it's weakest, all the minds of the spiders on his planet couldn't muster that kind of mental projection stability, and it intrigued him even more because of it.

He knew not of what was broadcasting a mental message such as this; for the humans simply could not fathom-or harness- the ability to create a mental wave. Yet he knew that it could not be from this world. There was an unnatural feel to the signal; something alien to his world and alien to him. A stranger on my planet he growled as he crested a large dune that created the edge of a crater that sported at the top almost directly beneath his feet a shiny silver pod.

It was an unusually small and circular pod, and seemed only to be able to fit no more than two people. The writing on the side was illegible, due to large burn marks were obviously the result of the ship entering the atmosphere. A large door hung ajar, revealing the dark and unlit interior, and for a moment he thought whoever owned it had wandered off into the rolling dunes of the desert. But the thought was quickly erased from his mind as his ears picked up a low moan escape from the inside of the pod. Someone was in there. His eyes widened in anticipation and he rushed so hastily down the edge of the crater that he nearly slipped upon the charred earth. He carefully placed a hand on the door, and the other on the hull of the sip, and pushed them apart. A hiss of steam escaped between the hinges as the two were separated, but nothing more. Knives then pulled violently on the door, ripping the hinges off and throwing it aside and pushing his head boldly into the smoky pod.

The inside was small and cramped, with computer paraphernalia lined the ceiling and walls. Nothing important lay in the controls, he could see that. Just a bunch of knobs and dials, very much like the idiot-proof computer systems that doted his planet. It was the figure in the seat next to the controls that caught Knives' attention.

A young woman, slumped unconsciously over her safety belt, sat in the padded chair.

His first thought was to shoot her; to rid himself of any complications that might arise when she awakened and return to his ship to have her and her pod buried in the sand. And yet, something inside of him wished to seize this opportunity for potential excitement. The woman was, obviously, not of his world, and he craved to know by what means she had arrived, from where, and who this strange woman was to intrude onto his planet.

After a few minutes of quiet deliberation, Knives settled upon letting her live for a time. His confinement had quickly lost its luster and he had known nothing but dull, boring days since he had returned. Life had been an utter bore and here before him sat the answer to his boredom; if only for a time, he had decided as he had unbuckled her multiple safety straps and slung her heavy, limp form over his shoulder and started the long walk back to his ship.

Things would be quite interesting when she awakened. ************************************************************************ It was nearly nightfall when Knives reached his ship. He hadn't estimated the amount of time it would take him to return to the ship with an unconscious female slung over his shoulder. Then again, he reminded himself, he hadn't expected to find an unconscious female. In whichever case, he had made it his duty to find out what was going on, and to do that he had to take her somewhere safe.

After much deliberation he settled upon lending her the room down the hall from his; due to the lock on the door and that there was naught in the room save a bed. Presumably, he thought, if he provided her with the bare necessities he could wring her spirit out like water from a damp cloth and therefore get what he wanted from her and be rid of her burden quickly.

When he entered the room with her limp body still in his arms, he felt the urge to drop her on the hard floor and leave her there for awhile. But something, he wasn't quite sure what, stopped him. So, begrudgingly, he pulled back the thin linen covers of the bed and placed her on the mattress. He then folded the blankets over her and exited.

Knives walked down the hall to a supplies room. He entered, and a rather large room filled with ration bars and the like were shelved neatly before him. He strolled lazily to a shelf and chose from row upon row of ration bars. It took him a few minutes to decide which one to choose, but, he concluded, the woman would be out for a while anyway, so he could take his time. And besides which, even if she did wake up, a little while without food would only put him in a better position to manipulate her. When he was finished eating, he disposed of the wrappers and headed back. He had taken his time, and was gone more than forty-five minutes. If she wasn't awake by now, then he would make her wake up.

Upon entering the room, he found the girl sprawled on the bed, laying on her stomach, her head resting on her upper arms. Her glittering aqua eyes watched him carefully as he closed the door. Upon his doing this, she sat up. She did this slowly, with ease and seemingly without fear. This irritated Knives to the point where she could see it on his face. She sat cross-legged on the folded sheets of the bed, leaning against the wall, her hands folded neatly across her lap.

This took Knives beyond the point of irritation. How dare she assume a casual posture in his presence! Didn't she know what- and who- he was? Couldn't she sense the air of superiority he was sure hung about him? He decided the niceties he had indulged her in earlier were wasted and obviously unappreciated. He decided then and there that he no longer wanted this annoyance, and decided to be direct and get the information he wanted before killing her. Planning humanity's defeat was much more fun and worthy of his time and talents than this piece of filth. So he decided to do what he always did in this sort of situation: simply take the information by force.

The girl sat impassively on the bed, her gaze never shifting, never wavering the tiniest bit. This male was certainly one-of-a-kind, she concluded. She had never encountered such an easily provoked and maltempered man such as he. And although she assumed she probably didn't look it, she knew exactly what he was going to do. Hah! She laughed quietly to herself, it was going to take more than a few petty tricks to outsmart her!

Knives grinned maliciously as he extended his mental touch towards her mind. She could do nothing now. If she wasn't going to tell what he wanted to know, then he would simply take it from her. Yet something Knives could never have fathomed came to pass: He couldn't enter her mind. There was this thing, a something that was guarding it. He could feel every groove of her mind, but couldn't enter it. Something was holding him back, something he could never have fathomed was blocking the way. It coated her mind like a mirror, rebounding every one of his attacks back on himself. If he threw mental energy at her, she would simply rebound it back at him, causing him more and more excruciating pain.

He tried for several minutes to knock down this strange barrier, but to no avail. It wasn't going anywhere, which was for sure. But Knives had never dealt well with frustration, and finally wound up, as he always did when provoked, hurling all his energy at the mirror in a futile attempt to knock the barrier down. But even he could sense it; he had only made the tiniest of dents in her mental shield by throwing all of his energy at it. What the hell was she?

She could feel the energy he threw at her, and could sense how hard it hit him when it rebounded off her shield. He was going to wind up killing himself if he kept this up. Then again, she thought to herself, why should she care? After all, he was going to kill her once he got the information he wanted. He had made those intentions clear. When he had entered the room, the air of confidence was so thick she had almost choked. There had been no doubt in his mind that he would leave the room with satisfactory information and a corpse on the floor. But she was a good-natured person, and didn't want a man as intriguing as this to die. At least, not yet anyway. Toying with him was simply too much fun.