I do not own Trigun / Vash. He belongs to Mr. Yasuhiro Nightow.

Lyrics are from: "He Ain't Heavy... He's My Brother" The song was written by Bobby Scott and Bob Russell circa 1969.

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Healing

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It's a long, long road

From which there is no return

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Year 0158 month 3 day 28

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Shyla abruptly sat up in bed, and stuffed her blankets in her mouth to muffle her sobs. She also tried to contain the emotion, so it wouldn't disturb the sisters in the power Plant bulbs.

Five years ago, when Vash had warned her that the next set of memories would be very difficult, she'd believed him. He'd tried to talk her into only viewing them as if through a window, with reduced emotional echoes, but she'd declined.

She had wanted to experience every memory from his life exactly as he had experienced it. She had neither known nor imagined how very difficult some of those memories would prove to be.

She remembered him saying, "The first part is especially rough. I'll sit with you while you process that part, at least through the day that Rem died." He'd taken her hand, had her sit on the couch beside him, and waited patiently.

When she learned about Tessla, she cried. She'd slipped under his arm, resting her head on his shoulder, and hugged his side. He'd put his arm around her, and leaned his cheek against the top of her head. "Keep going," he'd said softly. "It doesn't get better yet."

He hadn't exaggerated. She fully understood his despair when those events had occurred, and it haunted her. How did he bear it?

Since he did bear those memories without being overwhelmed, that meant it was possible to bear it. She must learn how.

She'd done as he asked, and kept going until the end of the day that Rem died. She had difficulty dealing with the pain of those memories when she received them at age 42. How had he managed when he was barely over a year old?

She'd clung to him, repeatedly saying that she was sorry.

"You've done nothing wrong," he'd said, sounding a little puzzled. "I was the one who did all of those terrible things, Shyla."

"You were so young, and justly terrified," she'd said. "I'm sorry you had to endure so much, especially when you were so very young."

"So," he said hesitantly, "do you think that, someday, you might be able to forgive me for what I did?" He was tense, and had a strange expression on his face.

Shyla recalled lifting her head off his shoulder to stare at him. He'd tied his hair back, so she could see his face. "Why would I need to forgive you?" she'd asked, feeling confused. "You panicked. I wasn't the one you hurt. If she forgave you, shouldn't it be ok now?"

"You don't despise me for what I did?"

"No, of course not," she'd said. "It's not like you run around hurting people that way anymore – in fact, you actively discourage people from hurting others. If you were a person who habitually hurt others, we'd never have become friends."

She'd leaned her head back on his shoulder, and hugged him. "I'm sorry that it happened. But you don't do that anymore. You're not like that. That's what matters."

He'd finally relaxed, leaning his cheek against her head again.

"It will take me a while to get used to this," she'd said. "I didn't know it would hurt so much."

"I should have given you only the window view," he'd said sadly.

"No," she'd protested. "It's better this way. I want to understand, and I can't do that if I'm always wrapped in cotton."

"Wrapped in cotton is a good place for anything precious," he'd said, hugging her.

"Then I should wrap you in cotton, too," she'd said, hugging him in return.

He'd chuckled, and she'd deliberately let herself feel how much she cared for him... which meant he would feel it also. She felt his answering warmth, and smiled.

They'd sat like that, silently, each wrapped in their own thoughts, far into the night.

Five years later, the memories received that evening still gave her nightmares. Thankfully not waking nightmares, like he sometimes suffered, but the ones she had when sleeping were bad enough.

Shyla threw aside her blankets, and got out of bed. She reached for a robe to put on over her pajamas, and walked into the main part of her home.

Home always felt terribly empty when Vash was away, which was most of the time. The memories he shared with her helped, but she still craved his living presence. When she could to see him, hear him breathe or speak, smell the desert in his hair, and touch him – that made everything seem right with the world.

She wandered to her desk, and opened the drawer where she stored his letters. He still signed them all with "Nate Saverem," the name he'd used when he lived across the hall from her and her mother for eighteen years. That way, if a letter went astray, nobody from outside the Seeds village would know who'd written it.

Shyla realized that she was too restless for reading. She caressed the envelopes and gently closed the drawer, sealing those treasures out of sight.

In a prior memory package, he'd included his exercise routine. That might be just what she needed. It had the potential to make her so tired that she could sleep without dreaming.

She smiled at the memory of how many years it had taken her to achieve competence with each of those exercises. She couldn't completely match his expertise yet, but she kept working on it. Maybe someday she could travel with him, if she got good enough.

Shyla did every exercise, slowly. When she finished, her body was ready to sleep but her mind was as restless as ever. Drat. She washed up and put on some regular clothes.

It was the middle of the night, so it was highly unlikely she'd find anyone else up to provide a distraction. The folks on night watch would be occupied and not wanting interruptions. She pondered options for a few minutes.

She could see if any of the power Plants was bored. Perhaps, if one was, she would assist with a bit more healing for the patient in cryo.

Luida and her other tutors had been exploring old records about Plant abilities. One that everyone, including Shyla herself, had found intriguing was the possibility of temporarily loaning additional regeneration to an ordinary human.

The day she learned about that was also the day when she'd learned that Vash could have healed his own scars, back when he got them. The fact that they specified that he could have done it previously, as if it was not possible now, led to her learning what his black hair meant. She'd cried herself to sleep that night, aching for him.

Her tutors had explained to her that before she tried sharing regeneration, she must first visit her sister Plants and see if any had surplus energy to share. That way, there was no danger of Shyla overspending herself into acquiring black hair.

Apparently, Vash had threatened dire consequences if he found any black hair on her head and they weren't sure if he'd been joking or not. So they were very strict with her on the subject of not spending her own inherent Plant energy.

She'd learned to help heal many types of injuries, from small cuts and scratches (for practice, at first) to more serious wounds. Three years ago, there'd been an accident. It resulted in several people being badly burned. So Shyla had talked with the other Plants, and had helped all she could when they had surplus energy to share.

The consensus was that she'd done well. Burns were perhaps the most difficult to help heal, so Shyla was both pleased and relieved by their praise.

A few months later, when catching up on paperwork, forgotten records of a severely burned person in cryo sleep were rediscovered.

This patient had been discovered wrapped inside a piece of burning wreckage, more dead than alive, at the time of the Great Fall. There had not been resources to treat the person then, so they had put them into a cryo sleep chamber. There said burn victim still rested.

Shyla had been asked to try healing that patient while the person remained in cryo sleep.

She'd quickly understood why healing was needed prior to waking... seared lungs, hands and feet burned so badly that finger and toe bones were exposed, all the skin and hair burned off, their hips partly crushed... the poor soul was a mess.

The body was so severely burned, especially in the lower parts, that all of the soft tissues that might indicate gender were too badly damaged to tell the doctors anything. The hips being partly crushed meant that the primary skeletal indicator of gender was not giving out that information, either. Nobody had been sure of that burned patient's gender. It was a miracle that the patient had survived long enough to be placed into cryo.

Shyla had begun healing that patient by stimulating their body's own healing processes. She compelled the map built into that person's DNA to restore their body, a little bit at a time.

She continued working to heal the anonymous burn patient, on and off as energy was available, ever since she had learned about their needs.

The internal organs were tended first, and then gradually the muscles were repaired or restored or re-grown, and lately the skin was being regenerated.

In the process, they had all discovered that the patient was female. Shyla had finished tending to the scalp and hair follicles during the last session. All that remained was to regenerate the skin over her face. After that, the woman could be awakened.

Shyla was eager to speak with her. The patient had the remains of a space suit burned into her, according to the records. Most of those bits of space suit had been removed as she was being prepared for emergency cryo sleep. Shyla had carefully caused the regenerating tissues to push out what little had remained.

Since she had been wearing a space suit, instead of standard cryo sleep attire, she must have been awake when the great fall began.

This meant that she might have been a crew member on one of the ships. She might have known Rem. Wouldn't that be a grand surprise for Vash? Shyla imagined that he might be able to talk with someone else who knew his beloved Rem, and his pleasure at such an opportunity.

So she walked around and greeted each of the Plants in turn, asking if any had a little surplus energy that she was willing to share. One did.

After exchanging pleasantries, accepting the gift and expressing thanks, Shyla went into the cryo sleep unit where the burned woman slept. She closed her eyes and concentrated. Little by little, she felt the skin forming on the woman's face. First came the forehead, then the eyelids, then the nose... she didn't hurry, and she was careful to budget energy.

Eyebrows, eyelashes, cheeks, lips, chin... good, there was enough to put her all the way back together. Shyla opened her eyes and looked at the results of her efforts. There was something familiar about the woman's face, but she couldn't place it.

Ah well, it probably didn't matter. The important thing is that she could be awakened now. She'd need clothes, and a scarf for her head until her hair grew in, but she could live outside the cryo unit now and she didn't have any scars. She could even stay in Vash's room, or technically "Shyla's guest room," until she fully recovered.

Vash had checked in only three months ago, so it was unlikely he'd wander this direction again for half a year or so. More likely, it would be two or three years before he returned.

That should give ample time for the patient to recover enough to live on her own, before he was likely to want the room again.

Shyla waited impatiently for one of the medical supervisors to wake up and get to the offices. She paced the various streets of the village, and the corridors of the ship. Time seemed to move with unusually ponderous slowness.

She could feel another nightmare lurking in the back of her brain, ready to pounce if she tried to sleep. So she kept pacing, waiting for the day and stubbornly ignoring how often she yawned.

The night finally ended, as all nights must. Seeing the daylight lifted her spirits some, but she remained eagerly impatient to awaken the woman from the past.

She walked past a doorway where someone was cooking breakfast. Food. Good idea. If any of the medical supervisors learned how she'd been so impatient to wake the burn victim that she hadn't eaten, she'd never hear the end of it!

Shyla scolded herself as she walked briskly back to her own place. She would be 48 years old in a few months. Theoretically, she shouldn't be so excited by anything that she'd forget to eat!

When she got home, she made herself a sandwich. Not traditional breakfast food, but she was still impatient to see if the lady from the past could be awakened. She washed up after breakfast, and changed into slightly nicer clothes. It seemed a fitting gesture.

She returned to the medical offices, and saw indications that at least one supervisor was in. Fortunately, this supervisor was a good friend who was likely to listen to her request and give a favorable answer. So she walked to the secretary and asked, "May I see Lumia, please? I have an update on a patient's condition."

The meeting was short, but reasonably satisfactory. The plan was to awaken the woman from the past after lunch. Shyla busied herself around the medical center, doing any odd jobs she could find. The children could survive without wrestling her today; she couldn't be content anywhere but here until her cryo patient was awake.

She briefly considered going out to the apple orchard. It had grown from apple seeds Vash had given her and she had planted, shortly after she arrived 25 years ago. However, it might take the newly-awakened lady a while for her regenerated digestive system to work out the kinks. Apples could wait.

Shyla hoped that she wasn't making a nuisance of herself. She was honestly trying to be helpful. Her usual shift in the medical center was afternoon hours, so she didn't know the morning routine. She hoped she was more help than hindrance as she ran errands for various medical needs.

…

Eventually, the appointed hour arrived. Shyla accompanied Luida, Lumia, three doctors and four technicians to the cryo chamber. They wheeled out the healed burn victim, and began the thawing process.

There was still something familiar about this woman's face. Shyla tried to shrug it off, since she couldn't place what it was. Perhaps she'd seen a descendant of one of her relatives either in her home town or somewhere along the trip that brought her here. Nobody in Seeds village looked enough like this woman to cause that feeling.

The thawing process seemed to take forever, though the clock claimed it was only half an hour. There were no technical difficulties, and all her vital signs looked good.

Shyla helped the nurse to dress her, and tie a soft golden scarf around her temporarily bald head. She had a glass of water ready on a small wheeled cart, since she'd been told the woman might be thirsty when she wakened.

The minutes ticked by, and finally the chocolate-brown eyes opened. She looked confused, which was entirely understandable. She opened her mouth to speak, and swallowed hard.

Shyla gently lifted her by the shoulders, supporting her head as Naomi had done for Vash, when he'd been this weak. She held the glass of water to the woman's mouth, and gently tilted it as she drank. When the glass was finished, she eased her back down onto the bed.

"Where am I?" she asked.

Shyla took her hand in what she hoped was a supportive and comforting gesture as Luida stepped forward.

Luida was 74, but still a formidable presence when she chose to be. At that moment, however, she was radiating compassion instead of "Councilwoman."

"You're safe," Luida said softly. "The ships crashed, and you were discovered in a small bit of wreckage. You were badly injured. You've been in cryo sleep ever since, until we had a way to heal you enough to wake you without doing you any harm."

The woman's eyes widened, and she said, "My boys! They're all alone, they need me..."

"You've been sleeping a long time," Luida said gently. "They would have grown up and perhaps had children, grand children, great-grandchildren, even great-great grandchildren... it's been nearly 200 years since the ships fell."

The woman gasped, and then took a moment to process that. Luida waited patiently while her gaze was directed inward. When she appeared to be looking at her again, Luida continued.

"If you tell us their names," she offered, "we could see if any of their descendants may be found. They might be pleased to meet you. It might also help if we knew your name."

"My name," the woman said slowly, "is Rem Saverem. My boys' names are Vash and Knives."

With tears in her eyes, Shyla leaned over and gently hugged Rem. "Welcome to the world of No Man's Land, Rem," she said softly into her ear.

Rem was both bald and much thinner than Vash's last memory of her. The regeneration process couldn't give muscle tone. It only repaired or replaced damaged or destroyed tissues. Those things explained why Shyla hadn't recognized her, but had sensed familiarity.

With her emotions, Shyla reached out to Vash with affection, joy and an urgent desire that he should come. He was far, very far away, but she felt his response and she knew that he had changed direction. He was now traveling toward them, and would arrive as soon as he possibly could.

"Vash is coming," she promised Rem softly. "It will take him some time to arrive, but you'll see him when he does. He will be so happy to learn that you're alive!"