[a/n: By the way, this takes place before the series. Thanks to Julian for pointing that out.]

When the second moon glared at us, Knives insisted we stop.

"If you insist upon 'saving' these children," he said, sitting down with Arachne in his arms, "you need to let them rest."

I nodded, putting Kiven down on the swiftly cooling sand. I gave him some of my water. He was barely conscious.

"Knives," I whispered, speaking aloud only because I figured the sound of voices would comfort the children, "do we have any food?"

He shook his head, stretching muscles that had grown sore from carrying all day. "We didn't need it."

I sighed, looking away from him. I had been half expecting that. I hadn't brought any food; we could always refuel in whatever town was nearest if we felt like eating, but we didn't need to eat or even drink for weeks at a time. Of course he wouldn't have brought any, it would only slow us down.

"They'll need to eat, I know," he said coolly. I glanced at him sideways. He still had Arachne in his lap, but he seemed to hold her almost like a gun; tensely, coldly, inanimately.

"You want me to take her?" I offered, gesturing to the girl. He looked almost surprised. Hesitantly, he looked from me to her.

"I, ah. . ." he said slowly, stammering for quite possibly the first time in his life. I wasn't sure, but I could almost feel him thinking *no*.

I knew he didn't want to admit he didn't want to give her up. I knew that feeling. I could point out the feeling to him, but he would deny it and repress it.

Sometimes, I know Knives just well enough.

"Actually. . ." I said with an exaggerated yawn, "I think I'm gonna take a little nap, so never mind. Keep an eye on Kiven, would ya?"

He snorted in a perfect imitation of himself being disgusted. "Yes, I'll watch the spiderlings. Not like I need sleep anyway," he muttered. I smiled to myself as I pretended to nod off. I may play the fool, but what better way to manipulate the kings?

Half of me set about the problem of getting these kids to Little Iowa alive and the other half kept an eye on Knives. He was still holding Arachne tensely. He didn't seem to be doing anything worrisome, but I watched.

We had four more days' walk to Little Iowa, where we could get the kids food and find a home for them. I had enough water in my canteen for two more days, if I rationed it and didn't use any myself. Knives could probably be convinced to give up his canteen too.

I glanced briefly his way. He had shifted slightly. His head was tilted back, eyes to the stars, back against the dune. Arachne seemed less awkward in his arms now.

Obviously, we'd have to carry them both. They were in no shape for walking. We could probably shave two days off the time if we traveled at night, too, but the little ones might not be able to handle all that. They were being carried, true, but they needed rest if we couldn't give them any food.

Knives was studying Arachne now, carefully, as if she might injure him if he looked too close. That struck me as odd; Knives, afraid of something? A little human girl, no less? But that wasn't fear in his eyes so much as the cold acknowledgement one gives a poisonous creature; not fear, just wariness of danger. It hit me that Knives had never been close to a human child before. Maybe he was trying to puzzle out the difference. Or maybe he just didn't understand.

His eyes were narrowed, so focused. His mouth twitched slightly, like it always did when he was examining a new thought. I worried what might be going on in his head. You never know, with Knives.

He raised one hand, and I caught my breath in my throat, ready to snatch the girl out of his arms if he tried to hurt her.

Slowly, he reached toward her face. I could feel my heart stop.

He tapped her lightly on the forehead three times.

It was all I could do not to let my breath escape in one huge sigh and slowly release it. He glanced my way, probably checking to make sure I was asleep, then repeated the action. Tap-tap-tap. He squinted at her very thoughtfully.

What the hell was he doing?

Tap-tap-tap. Again. She stirred slightly, waving one small arm weakly. Knives smiled in a way that I've come to consider triumphant. Now that he had proven results, he raised his hand again.

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap- tap- tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap- tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap- tap-tap- tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.

What the hell?

Arachne squirmed and wined a little. Knives looked down at her with an odd expression, somewhere between triumph and scientific curiosity.

"Awake?" he whispered.

"Mmhmm," she mumbled.

"Good," he said, and seemed to be suddenly without anything to say..

"'M Arachne," she mumbled sleepily. "Who're you?"

He hesitated.

"Knives."

She squirmed. "Tha's a funny name."

"So's Arachne," he countered. There was tone in his voice I hadn't heard since we bickered when we were little, something defensive.

"'S not."

"Yes it is."

"No 's not."

"It is."

"'S not. It means 'spider.'"

"I know that. I don't like spiders."

"Why not?"

"They kill the butterflies."

Arachne paused, mulling this over.

"Wha's a flutterby?"

"Butterfly."

"What is it?"

"It's a winged insect that feeds on the nectar of flowers with its proboscis."

Arachne didn't seem to have a prepared answer for that.

"Its prowhattis?"

"Proboscis."

"Oh. Wha's a flower?"

Knives froze. Rem had told us once just what flowers were, to her. He'd always had an aversion to them.

"It's a kind of plant that has petals-" he caught himself in the middle of using another word she didn't know, "-soft colored leaves at the top. Some people think they have a pleasant fragrance."

"Whassat mean?"

"They think it smells nice."

Arachne considered this. She slowly sat up in his lap and stared up at him in deep thought.

"You mean Plants like the ones in the bulbs? I never saw one with pretty color leafs. I never saw one with leafs at all."

"No, not that kind. The kind like trees."

"Wow, I saw a tree once. Flutterbies must be big. I don't think a spider could kill one but this one time I did see a real big spider and it was this big-" she spread out her small arms as far as they could go, "-or maybe this or well-" she continued, moving her hands nonstop in an effort to demonstrate the size of the spider, eventually seeming to settle on the size of both her fists and holding them up before dropping them again quickly, "-Well I don't know how big it was but it was real big but I don't think it could kill a flutterby 'cuz those are even bigger." She gave this a moment more of deep thought while Knives attempted to unravel her tangled syntax before adding, "It was real big."

"No, flowers are much smaller than trees," Knives corrected her, ignoring the rest of her garbled speech. Probably to amuse himself, he asked her, "How big did you say it was again?"

"Umm. . ." she puzzled briefly. Concentrating deeply, she put her fists back together and held them up to his nose. "This big."

"Oh. That is big."

"Yep. But I wasn't scared."

"Weren't you, now." Matter-of-factly.

"No-huh."

"Well then."

Arachne was either a very perceptive person or a completely blind one to be as comfortable as she was with Knives. Maybe it was the somewhat disturbing way he treated her like an adult. It was probably pretty rare that adults spoke to her as if she were as smart as she really was. Knives wasn't making any special allowances for her. He was talking to her almost the same way he used to talk to me.

He wasn't looking at her anymore. His eyes had wandered up to the sky again. Arachne huddled against him like a teddy bear and popped her thumb in her mouth, closing her eyes and starting to drift off.

"Misser Knives?" she suddenly asked, craning her neck up to see him.

"Yes." He didn't look down.

"Kiven's okay, right?"

Knives looked down at her abruptly, then to the little boy sprawled in the sand. He seemed well enough. I would have told her that he was just fine.

"I don't know yet. He's probably very weak. But my brother is taking care of him."

Arachne perked up. "Oh, you have a brother too?"

"Yes," Knives said patiently. "That's him."

"Oh, he's nice. Did he ever steal your dollies and feed 'em to a Thomas?"

Knives did not immediately respond. He seemed to be doing a good job of adjusting his conversation so she could understand it, and his thought pattern to understand her.

"No. I never had dolls. And Vash wouldn't do something like that," he added ambiguously.

"You never had dollies?" she asked, mildly surprised, as if he had said he had never seen a cat.

"No."

She wrapped her small brain around this.

"Well. . . I guess you could have one of mine, when I get home." She sounded shy, almost sad.

Knives recognized the enormity of the sacrifice she had offered to make and did not point out that he would rather shoot himself in the foot than own a doll. "Thank you. Where is 'home?'"

She yawned as she said groggily, "Third City July. Knives, I'm thirsty."

Wordlessly, he reached for his canteen. "July."

"Mm-hmm," she said, gulping down his water. He took it back before she could take too much. "I even know my address. Two-thirty-seven, um, two- thirty seven. . . Two-thirty-seven White. . . White. . .Two-thirty-seven White, um, Chuh. . . Knives, what's that word for church that sounds like apple?"

"Chapel."

"Yeah. Two-thirty-seven White Chapel Road, Third City July. Thassit."

"I see. And why aren't you there now?"

"'Cuz I'm here," she said matter-of-factly. He chuckled.

"I noticed that. But why are you way out here instead of in July?"

"Oh. Well, um, Kiven knows better than I do. I was real sleepy. Mommy and Daddy said it was an energemcy and to get out of the house real quick through the back door. So we did. There was some booms, like fireworks. Kiven said we should go out in the desert, so we did. I didn't wanna go because I left Mr. Floppykins in my room. But Kiven said I couldn't go back. He said we were gonna camp out in the desert and run all the way to Little Jersey and tell everyone there what happened. I dunno what happened but now I wanna go back home." She yawned deeply. "You're taking me home, right?"

Knives didn't respond, and I prayed he would tell her we were; she could get hysterical if she thought she was never going home again. I knew Knives would prefer to give her the cold truth rather than shelter her, but I set every hope against him doing it.

"Well. . ." Come on, Knives, don't make the trip any harder.

"Right now, we're going to Little Iowa. . ." Dammit, he just HAD to be honest.

". . .But I'm sure that Vash will make sure you get home soon." Damn him, he knows me way too well, I thought with relief and a smile. Yes, I would get them both home. Knives knew I would whether he liked it or not.

"Oh. Okay." She yawned again and curled into a ball in his lap, sucking her thumb. "Goodnight, Misser Knives."

It's been a long time since anyone's said that to him, I thought. Does he remember how it worked?

"Goodnight, Arachne."

Maybe he did. Sometimes he remembers things you wouldn't expect.