Vash shook his head and looked at his hand. It tingled oddly, almost like the circulation had been cut off, but not quite. He felt oddly weak, as if he had run for miles then decided to climb fifty flights of stairs, but he didn't feel bad. Just… tired. He wondered just what had happened, just then. Somehow that lady had transferred energy from him and his brother to the girl, but he couldn't for the life of him say just what she had done. Whatever it had been, the actions she took teased at the back of his mind, like they were something he recognized or should have already known. He shrugged the feeling off, clenching and unclenching his fist until he worked the tingling away.

His eyes traveled to the child in his brother's lap, and he stifled a pang of jealousy. The girl had wrapped her arms around him and was crying her eyes out, obviously remorseful, though Vash couldn't tell if it was for almost killing Meryl or for almost dying in the attempt. He quashed that thought as soon as it surfaced. The girl was no more than a child. Of course she wasn't a killer yet. He wouldn't even think such things if she wasn't around his brother. It wasn't fair to her to suspect her only because she accompanied Knives.

Knives. There was a puzzle right there. He had never seen his brother look so concerned. When the child was lying there, laboring to breathe, the look of frustration on his brother's face was tempered by a frantic desire to make things better. The cold, icy calm that Knives normally used to hold the world at bay had disappeared. His emotions were written out on his face for all the world to see. Well, all the world that had any experience in dealing with his brother.

Seeing the two of them, seeing the concern on his brother's face, something deep in his heart relaxed. He wasn't fool enough to think that this meant very much. Knives was probably still on his crusade. He still likely hated all humans. But, his heart wasn't completely closed off to the entire world anymore, and he couldn't help the hope that thought engendered in him. His brother had been too long with no one. No one to love, no one to care for. Now this girl seemed to have won a place in his heart.

No, this probably didn't mean as much as he hoped that it did. The girl had tried to kill Meryl, so she obviously was no life revering pacifist. He wasn't going to judge her for the attempt; how could he? But hopefully she would see that her actions were wrong, and that life was precious. Things like that had happened before.

He wished he knew what was going on here. Knives, Ace, Kiley, how had they all gotten together? Ace, she was obviously the child kidnapped from December. Kiley, he had never heard of before. She was a puzzle, an enigma. Obviously skilled, she had knocked Meryl to the ground like she had done things like that before. She hadn't hesitated a moment before putting herself in the line of fire, willing to take injury that another might be saved.

That wasn't a common response to danger. Most people ran from it. Some stayed to fight it. A few tried to save others from it. But very few ever acted as a living shield, throwing themselves in the path of danger to block it from another. It was an incredibly selfless act, and she had done it as if it were nothing.

He looked over at her. She had all but collapsed in the sand after doing… whatever it was she had done. She looked absolutely exhausted. Vash pushed himself to his hands and knees and crawled around the child.

"Hello there," he said softly. "I'm Vash."

She opened one eye a slit. "I know," she said flatly.

He wasn't entirely sure what he should say to that. She didn't seem very friendly. Of course, she looked very tired, too, so that might be why she was acting so surly.

He tried again. "You do some neat tricks."

She closed her eye. "Tricks are fake. That stuff was real."

This time he knew he was being rebuffed. Slightly hurt, he wondered what her problem was.

Oh.

"Thank you," he said softly. "Thank you for saving Meryl's life."

She opened her eyes, then shifted them over to meet his. "No problem. Happy," her voice added an odd emphasis to the word, "to help."

He cocked his head to the side, thinking for a moment. "People don't give you thanks very often, do they?"

Something flicked deep in her eyes, but he couldn't read what it was. "No. It's that obvious?"

"I'd think if they did you would be better at accepting them. Practice and all that."

"Hmm." She fell silent and closed her eyes again.

Vash tried a different topic. "You shouldn't sleep out here in the sun. You'll burn."

She tried to mumble something, but failed.

Vash looked at her more closely, seeing the gray pallor that lay under her tan, saw how shallow her breathing had grown. Worried, he remembered that she had been shot. She might be losing too much blood! He lifted her shirt and sat there, shocked at what he saw.

There was no wound. What there was, a small pink region of new flesh, was in a place that could have killed her. Should have killed her, really. He had no idea that Meryl had shot her there.

A sharp pain in his head told him that Meryl had noticed what he was doing.

"Put her shirt down, you pervert!" she hissed in his ear.

"Meryl," he whined, then grew serious. "Look." He pointed to the mark on her stomach. "Did you know you had shot her there?" He glanced over at her.

"No," she responded, not looking at him, voice shaky. "I, I didn't mean too. It was an accident." She buried her head in his shoulder, and he dropped the shirt to stroke her hair. "I know it was. But… she should be dead, with a wound like that. Not…" he looked at her again, noting the pallor and the too tight skin. "Sleeping," he said finally, not wanting to add to Meryl's guilt.