Super tired whilst typing. No pointing out of typos needed. =Þ

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Meryl saw that her hands were shaking and clenched them into tight fists. She then buried them deep in her lap, hiding the evidence of the stress she was under. She didn't know where to look, what to think about. First there was that woman, that infuriatingly smug woman. Then there was the incredibly cute child who had purportedly tried to kill her. Looking into those big blue eyes, utterly empty of guile or hatred, she wondered if she was being told the truth. Surely a child this young wouldn't be a killer? But then again, given the company she kept…

She shot a look at Knives, peering through her eyelashes in an attempt to keep him from noticing her scrutiny. He paid no mind to her, but at the moment she wasn't surprised. All his attention was focused on the child in his lap. He cradled her as if she were some delicate treasure that would break with the slightest mishandling. Sadly, that might be true. The girl was in seriously bad shape.

Honestly, if someone had asked her yesterday, she would have said that Knives wasn't capable of any of the softer emotions. Even his love for his brother was a cold thing, seemingly based more on familial bonds than any deep affection for Vash. But looking at his face now, at the concern etched on his brow and the fear in his eyes as her looked on at the child's pallor, she was being forced to revise her opinions. If that wasn't the look a concerned father would give his child, she had never seen it.

The thought that Knives might have a gentler side unnerved her. It made him more human, more like a person. He was easier to hate, easier to loathe when she thought that he was just a monster. She could fear him, despise him, but she never felt the need to understand him. He was evil; that was all she needed to know. Ice cold evil. But looking at him now she could only see traces of the horrible man she had been forced to know. It was as if she was made to see another person inside the body that she knew. This man confused her, shook her. She didn't know him, but she still feared that he would be dangerous.

His eyes were raised from the girl's prone body, and he sought Vash's gaze, looking for some reassurance. Vash still held the girl's hand, slowly stroking from the wrist to the fingers, trying to coax some reaction from their flaccid state. Ace seemed too tired to do more than blink, too drained to labor at anything beyond breathing.

And what slow, strained breaths they were. Each was pulled into straining lungs, each exhalation a slow seep of air that stopped with an unhealthy gurgle. The cup of water Meryl had fetched sat by her left knee, mostly untouched. The girl was too tired to swallow without choking, and the effort when they had tried left her even paler than she had been to begin with.

Meryl bit back a sigh and wished that Millie was there. She would know what to do. When it came to children, Mille knew everything. She knew everything, and she stayed calm. The three of them were fighting back panic, she could feel it, the tension that crawled on their skins and leapt from one to another. She had a feeling that their near panic was doing nothing for the girl, but she couldn't help herself. She just looked so sad, lying there, maybe dying, and none of them could do anything at all.

She looked back at her hands, saw them twisting the hem of her shirt, then looked out over the oasis. The flash of green caught her eye, as did that woman.

Kiley.

Her mouth twisted, but she didn't notice. That woman. That killer. She had heard what had happened outside of December, had seen Vash's face fall as he learned that she had attacked a group of travelers after stealing the child. Ruthless. She could see the evidence of that in the tight set of her mouth, in the lines around her eyes. The perfect sort of person to be hanging around with Knives.

The woman had closed her eyes, divorcing herself from the drama on the other side of the oasis. She obviously didn't care what happened to Ace; she had likely only taken the girl because Knives had ordered her to. The thought enraged her. She found herself stalking over to her before she even realized that she had stood up.

"Don't you care?" she demanded as she reached her. The woman didn't even open her eyes. "That little girl is dying, and you can't even be bothered to sit by her. You just laze about here, by yourself, unconcerned."

Kiley didn't even bother to open her eyes. Meryl suppressed the urge to slap her, but did grab her by the collar and shake her. "She's dying! Are you heartless?"

The eyes finally opened. Their depths were clouded, and Meryl stopped her actions.

"What am I supposed to do to help?" Kiley asked.

"You're the miracle worker. Work a miracle. Make her get better." She was surprised to hear a dry laugh.

"Miracle? I don't do miracles. Much too godly for a person like me."

"Are you saying you can't do anything to help?"

Kiley closed her eyes again, and said nothing. Meryl counted the heartbeats that slid by. One, then five, then fifteen, and still the woman stayed silent. Then she sighed and opened her eyes again.

"I'll see what I can do," she said, "but I can promise nothing. I'm only human." And if her mouth twisted on those last words, Meryl didn't see it. Her eyes had turned again towards the poor, sick child, and she hoped that they would not arrive too late.