I do not own Trigun / Vash or Rem: they belong to Mr. Yasuhiro Nightow.

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Rem

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Year 0158 month 5 day 25

Rem awoke and lay staring at the ceiling. All was quiet, so Vash and their hostess probably hadn't wakened yet.

She could scarcely believe all the strange turns her life had taken.

The appearance of the boys had astonished enough by itself, back on the mother ship. She'd spent a wonderful year of watching them grow and getting to know the two of them. All had seemed almost too good to be true, until their discovery of Tessla.

Tough times had followed that discovery.

Vash had stayed alone in his room, refusing to eat. It had taken weeks to get past the poor boy's terror and depression. Thankfully, eventually, Vash had allowed her help him through the pain and fear that the discovery of Tessla's fate had caused him.

Sadly, Knives had continually pulled away from both herself and his brother. Rem had been worried about him, but she had not known what to do. She'd hoped that if she gave the boy some room, and didn't pressure him, that, in time, he would eventually allow her to help him as Vash had.

Unfortunately, time had abruptly run out. The ships had turned toward a planet, on a collision course. She'd gotten the boys into an escape pod and seen it leave the ship, so they should both be safe.

She had prayed over those two dear boys, as she ran toward the main computer console.

Rem had paused barely long enough to take the precaution of diving into outer-space suit, so that she could work for as long as possible. The suit's refrigeration could buy her time to finish what was needed before... well, in case she couldn't survive.

She'd run to the controls, and began to wrestle with them. That's where her memory winked out.

She dimly recalled a vague sense of movement, a terrible searing pain, and indistinguishable voices. The next thing she knew, she was waking up from cryo sleep.

She was told that these people's ancestors had discovered her near their village at the time of "the Great Fall," so badly burned that she was more nearly dead than alive. She had been partly wrapped in a piece of burning wreckage, which had both damaged and preserved her.

They could not, in good conscience, abandon her to expire. Unfortunately, they were unable to cure her at that time. So they had done the one thing that they could do. They put her into cryo sleep, and hoped that a future generation would have the resources to care for her. She'd slept there, as a nameless burn victim, for nearly two centuries.

She told them her name, and asked after Vash and Knives.

To her surprise, a young female assistant standing nearby had gently hugged her and welcomed her to the world. The girl said that Vash was coming, and that he would be delighted to learn she was alive.

Rem didn't know how they had healed her. Nobody was sharing details. They only said that she needed to concentrate on learning how to use her newly regenerated body.

They had warned her that most of her muscles had needed to be completely regenerated, and would function like the muscles of a newborn. Her body wouldn't know what to do. She would need to learn how to move all over again. They hadn't exaggerated.

She was grateful that she had this second chance at life. Yet she was puzzled by many things about this world where she found herself.

For example, there was a mostly functional SEEDS ship hovering over a billowing, bottomless sea of sand powder. The ship was there, plain to see, yet nearly everyone called it "lost technology." Since it was there, and functioning, how was it lost?

Somehow, she'd gone from being nearly burned to death to being whole. She didn't even have any scars or pain. She'd been bald when she waked, but her hair was growing back. It might be her imagination, but it seemed her hair was growing back slightly faster than was usual.

If it really had been nearly two centuries, she had wondered ... could the man who was coming truly be her Vash? Or was he, perhaps, a descendant? She knew that Plants could live that long, but Vash had never been sustained in an orb. She had no idea what to expect.

Nobody would tell her anything about Knives. It worried her, not knowing why they would not speak of him.

Most people said that Vash wasn't expected to visit again until sometime next year, at the earliest. However, the girl at her awakening had confidently stated that he was on his way. She'd later learned that the girl's name was Shyla.

As it turned out, Shyla had been correct. But how had she known, when nobody else had?

When Rem asked Shyla about Knives, the girl had looked worried. "Probably best you ask Vash," she had said, "but please, I beg you, don't ask him right away when you first see him. Let him have a few days to get used to you being alive first. Please."

"Is Knives ... dead?" Rem had nearly choked on the word.

"We don't know," the girl had replied, very softly. "No body has ever been found. Vash blames himself... I've said too much already, please – let it alone. Get yourself better, first. These other things, they can wait."

She had been compelled to be content with that, for the present.

Rem was kept in the infirmary until she gained some skill in using her hands. After that, Shyla had invited her to her home.

To be truthful, Rem was eager to get out of the antiseptic environment of the infirmary. It brought back painful memories of Tessla. So she'd accepted Shyla's invitation.

Rem had asked the lead doctor, the day before leaving the infirmary, what sort of girl Shyla was.

"She is a natural healer," Lumia had said, smiling. "She's gentle, caring, quiet and competent. She's the kind of girl that half the world would overlook, simply because she is so quiet. That would be their loss."

"Are she and Vash good friends?" Rem wondered.

"Oh yes," Lumia said reassuringly. "Vash himself brought Shyla here, twenty-two years ago. Ever since, when he comes to visit us, he stays at her house."

"Where did Vash find this girl?" Rem asked. "Is she his daughter?"

Lumia laughed. "No," she said. "The girl's mother was dying, and didn't want her to grow up alone in an isolated and moderately rough town. The mother had asked Vash to take her daughter somewhere safe. He brought her here. If you really want to know all about Shyla, the best people to ask would be either Vash or else Shyla herself."

"Thank you for telling me these things," Rem said. "It's nice to know something about my future hostess before I move in with her."

"It's very easy to like Shyla," Lumia said. "I think you'll enjoy staying with her. She'll help you to recover, too, probably better than anyone else could."

Shyla appeared to be in her early to middle teens, so perhaps she'd also spent some time in cold sleep. It made sense that Vash would take a child to a place of safety. That didn't explain why her house was his home whenever he came here, though.

Shyla was so gentle and quiet that one could almost forget she was there. Her pleasantly plain face and pale hazel eyes were kind. Her abundant hair, which she usually kept tied back into a single long braid, was an appealing shade of golden blonde.

Perhaps Vash found her quietness and good cooking restful?

Shyla was a better than average cook, which had helped Rem to struggle through the process of rebooting her digestive system. The infirmary food had not been tempting enough to be worth the trouble of wrestling through the nausea and indigestion to eat it in quantity.

Rem's hostess kept to herself enough that her home did make a reasonably comfortable place to recover, even when recovery included re-learning how to walk. Oddly enough, any time that Rem needed help with anything, Shyla had a way of appearing without being asked.

It was a pleasant house. It had two bedrooms, each with its own bathroom, and a larger room between them that provided kitchen, sitting and eating areas. A third bathroom was nestled behind a large storage room.

Like many dwellings in this village, this one was partially dug into the side of a hill or cliff surrounding the valley where a Seeds ship hovered over a billowing bottomless sea of sand powder. The house had wide windows on the one wall that faced toward the valley. Overall, the place was spacious enough to be comfortable, but small enough to be cozy.

Each evening, Shyla would read aloud to her from a history book. That was helpful, since it allowed Rem to begin understanding a few things about how this world worked.

Rem had badgered Shyla with questions about Vash, since Knives seemed to be a forbidden topic.

"He's had a difficult life," she would say. "It has scarred him, yet he is gentle and kind and thoughtful toward others. He still loves you dearly. You'll be proud of him."

That was all she could pry out of the girl, until yesterday. At last, the girl gave a description of how he looked, including comparisons of how he was either like or unlike he'd been as a child. Rem still wondered how Shyla could possibly have known enough about Vash's childhood appearance to make such accurate comparisons.

"Probably best you get to know him for yourself," Shyla had concluded. "I can't describe him well, but he's amazing in so many ways. He has such a beautiful heart! You'll surely love him at least as much for who he is now, as you do for the boy you once knew."

Something about the way the girl had pronounced those words, and the expression on her face, finally gave Rem an insight into her heart. Shyla loved Vash. Whether she loved him as girl to man, or if she only saw him as a dear friend, her tenderness toward him was plain.

Vash had arrived yesterday evening, two months and a week after Rem had wakened.

At first, recognition and joy had briefly flickered across his face. Then he'd looked afraid and simply stared at her, wide-eyed. Shyla assured him that Rem wasn't a dream, but real.

Shyla, who'd been holding Vash's hand at the time, opened her hand. She kept her hand under his, maintaining contact and quietly supporting him while waiting for him to do whatever he would. Rem recalled briefly wondering if that was also a picture of the girl's heart. Did she love Vash with an open hand, in the same way she stood there with her hand open, allowing him to stay or leave according to his own wishes?

After Shyla opened her hand, Vash nearly knocked Rem down when he lunged toward her and gathered her into his arms in one of the clumsiest hugs she'd ever experienced. Yet it was also one of the best hugs ever – it felt so wonderful to see and hug at least one of her boys.

He laughed and cried for a short while. Then he reached for Shyla, who had quietly closed the door behind him, and pulled her into the hug, too.

He held on tightly to both of them. "Now I know what home is," he whispered. "It's wherever you two are. Today, I've finally found my home."

They'd all three laughed and cried, and said a whole lot of nothing in particular. They sat on the couch, herself to his right and Shyla to his left. Vash kept asking her how she was. He kept squeezing her hand, as if he could barely believe the evidence of his own eyes.

If people were not mistaken, Vash had spent nearly two centuries believing that she was dead. Yet he looked no older than his early or middle twenties. His hair had gone black, instead of the golden hue that she remembered, but Rem still recognized the little boy she knew in the tall man he'd become.

Said tall man should be asleep on the couch along the wall just outside of her room. Rem wanted to see him again. She was content even to watch him sleeping, just to gain the opportunity to drink in the sight of him.

She visited her restroom, threw on a robe and made it to her bedroom door. She'd only needed to catch herself against a wall twice during that process, which was an improvement over a few days ago.

She softly opened her door, and stepped through it. Sure enough, there he lay on the couch. He was resting on his right side, with his right hand palm-upwards beside his face on his pillow. In his hand was Shyla's. She sat on the floor with her head leaned against his pillow, sound asleep. The girl was in her pajamas and slippers, with a blanket loosely wrapped around her.

Rem smiled. Apparently, she wasn't the only one who wanted to see Vash, and delight in knowing he's alive and well and near.

In sleep, both of their faces looked very young, innocent, and vulnerable. Rem suddenly felt instinctively maternal toward both of them. Perhaps she ought to make more of an effort to draw out the bashful girl, and get to know her better. Vash had described both Shyla and herself as being part of what made this place his home. That meant this quiet girl had grown important to him.

Rem smiled at them, and began to understand why Shyla had hugged her on the day she awoke from cryo sleep. The girl had known she was important to Vash, so she had opened her arms, her heart and her home to Rem for his sake. It was a sweet thing for her to do, and understanding that endeared the girl to Rem.

Vash stirred, interrupting Rem's thoughts. She wasn't ashamed of watching him, so she made no effort to conceal her intent or get into her room before he noticed her. Besides, any attempt to move quickly would include the risk she'd trip over her own two feet and fall down in an embarrassing manner.

His eyes opened, and he saw Shyla. He smiled, sat up, and began to stretch without moving the hand she held. In that process, he saw Rem.

He smiled again, and then flicked his eyes toward the sleeping girl. Rem nodded, and carefully moved closer. "Good morning" she said, barely above a whisper. She sat beside him, and he lifted his arm so that she could nestle against his side.

"Good morning," he replied equally softly.

"I hope you'll forgive me for staring at you," Rem said. "I've wanted to see you since I woke, and... it's so good to see one of my boys, grown so tall and handsome."

Vash looked self-conscious, and might even be blushing just a little. The early morning light coming in through the window behind him was dim enough that Rem couldn't be sure as she looked up at his face.

"When Shyla wished me here, I had no idea why," he said. "It's going to take me a while to really believe this isn't another dream. I dream of you so often, Rem. I've missed you so much..." his voice broke, and she saw tears in his eyes.

She put both arms around him and held him tightly as he buried his face in her shoulder.

When she felt him relax a little, she loosened her hold and turned partway, so she wouldn't need to twist her neck so much just to see his face. When he wrapped his left arm around her, it felt ... different. Odd, somehow. She couldn't place why, so she impatiently pushed the distraction aside.

"I know you'd want me to think of you with joy, not grief," he said. "Maybe now I can do that. I couldn't before, no matter how hard I tried." He smiled, though there was still pain in his eyes.

"I'm a little surprised that you still thought of me at all, after so many years," Rem replied, smiling back at him. His eyes cleared, a little, and his smile widened.

"Of course I did," he said. Suddenly, he turned his head toward the sleeping girl. His expression was so extremely gentle that it might , perhaps, qualify as tender. "Shyla," he said softly, "did you want to wash up first, or shall I?" he asked.

She opened her eyes and raised her head to smile at him. "I will," she said, "so I can make doughnuts while you wash up."

He chuckled. "All right, I surrender," he said. "If you're going to bribe me with your doughnuts, you'll win every time."

Her smile widened, and she squeezed his hand before releasing it. She stood and wished Rem a "Good morning" before going into her room and closing the door.

Vash looked after her, still wearing that affectionate expression on his face.

"They told me you brought her here," Rem said. "She rarely speaks of herself."

"She thinks she has little worth telling," Vash said. He stretched more thoroughly, now that both of his hands were free. Then he looked at Rem. "Her life may not make exciting stories, but she has a good heart."

"Will you tell me about Shyla?" Rem asked.

"Sure," he said, smiling.