THREE: a sturdier tree

A tall man in a long, brown poncho strolled into Black Rock on a bright morning in July, the first town he had visited in over six months. His tousled, blond hair was long and fell down to his unshaven jawline. A pair of yellow shades shielded his eyes from the twin suns that pierced the heavens, just over the eastern horizon.

He entered town as he always did, a mysterious stranger with no apparent reason to be here. His world was a lie, his life an enigma. At least, it used to be. A year had passed him by, and he had yet to allow himself to truly believe that the most troubling days of his life were over. He had done as She had asked him to, shouldered the burden that She had placed upon him, because there had been no other choice.

Take care of Knives.

He did, just as She had asked. It had troubled him to no end, but he had done it, and now that it was over he actually felt pretty good about it all. Now he had a chance to live his life, with Knives under lock and key, laying where no one could ever find him in a place he would never be able to escape.

Until you realize there must be room in this world for all of us, you have to understand there will be no room in it for you.

So he walked into town, alone. He made his way to the marketplace, not far from town square. It was a busy little world, meant solely for the people of this town and those few who might wander here from the outside. It was fairly busy for a small town, with men, women, and children everywhere he looked. Everyone seemed to be happy, and that lifted his spirits all the more. He passed through town with his head held high, and a broad, almost foolish grin on his face.

Soon he came to a stand where he was met by a familiar, pleasant scent that drew him to the peek of curiosity. He slowed to a walk and peered toward the young woman who stood at the counter, bent over a fryer, plucking fresh, golden pastries from the hot oil. "Donuts! All right! I can't believe my luck!" The man spun on his heel and strolled over to the cart.

The young woman saw him coming and wiped her hands on her apron. She smiled pleasantly at her customer.

"Young lady," he began, grinning ear to ear. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins. "May I have a dozen of your tastiest donuts? And I like 'em fresh, too! Nothing stale, please!"

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Sitting beneath the overhang outside the local general store, Vash the Stampede leaned back, his feet on the banister, and began to snarf. It was a beautiful day, and he could think of no way better to celebrate a beautiful day than by sitting in the shade, dining on one's favorite food.

A dozen or so children scampered by, playing, a pair of happy puppies dancing beneath them. The scene brought a smile to his face, and Vash thought of happier times. They seemed few and far between, but they were there and they filled his soul with happiness. They soothed his heart and soul.

Just as She had all those years ago.

With his eyes closed, he thought of Her. Rem Saverem, the woman who had made him the man he was today.

What a gorgeous day. Wish you were here to see it, Rem. I wish I could show you the world you brought us to.

Damn, he missed her so much. His heart still bore the pain of her passing. It was hard to believe that 131 years had passed since she had been stolen away from him.

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Vash huddled beneath a redbud tree and gazed silently at the crimson mess pouring from the jagged tear in his palm. The pain was so intense that tears stung his eyes and stained his cheeks as they slid down his face. He drew his injured hand to his chest and cradled it there, staring to the tree, watching the branch that had snapped beneath his weight. Failure ate at him, filling his heart with sorrow.

He shouldn't have come out here alone, and Rem would tell him so. Everyone would be angry with him, for disturbing the peace of their private sanctuary, for tainting it with the crimson liquid that pulsed from his hand and dribbled to the grass below. He tried to wipe it away with his sleeve, but that only smeared it around, making it all the more obvious, not to mention the huge red stain that now clung to the fabric. He'd never be able to hide that from Rem. He would never be able to hide the truth behind the painful injury. The tears came more heavily with the realization, in choked sobs.

He cried there for a time, lost in his troubles. What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to explain the broken tree limb and the injury and the crimson trail he left behind? He couldn't lie. After all, this had been Rem's tree, the one she spoke of often, the one she loved dearly. She loved every tree and bush and blade of grass, every insect and arachnid, every bird, and every sweet breath of air that welcomed her here. Now Vash had damaged her tree, and it made him heartsick to think of the pain he would cause her.

"Vash?"

He flinched at her voice, calling his name. He'd expected time to think, to prepare himself for the inevitable, but apparently that was too much to ask for. She'd already come to find him, and the torture would soon follow. He didn't answer her right away, but instead listened to her soft footfalls in the grass as she approached. He tightened his hold on his injured hand and clenched his eyes shut.

"Oh, Vash, honey, are you all right?"

She sunk to her knees by his side and pulled him into her lap, cradling her into her tender embrace. She was so loving and gentle it was impossible to imagine this woman could be cool and calculating when the situation demanded. His heart thundered in his chest. There was no way she didn't see the injured tree, no way she couldn't see the pool of blood in the grass next to them, yet she embraced him. She said nothing of the damage he had caused.

Instead, she whispered into his ear. "Does it hurt much?"

"A little," he mumbled. Not so much as the pain he knew he had caused her.

"I'm sorry it hurts," she whispered. He felt her soft lips in his hair, heard the gentle release of her kiss. She began to rock him forth slowly, her cheek nestled against the top of his head. Rem turned her eyes to the damaged tree. "You know, I used to climb trees when I was a child."

His eyes turned up to hers in surprise. "You? Really?"

She looked down to him, her eyes sparkling. "Of course. All the time."

"Did…you ever get into trouble?"

"Oh Vash." She cradled him deeper into her embrace. "You're such a baby."

He glanced up to her, his brow furrowed. He cherished this woman, worshipped her, but sometimes she seemed more inclined to keep the truth hidden. It could be so frustrating. Not that she lied—Rem never lied—but she had a mysterious way about her that he simply didn't understand. Why couldn't she just tell him that he had done something wrong? It wouldn't be near as hurtful as the silence.

He lay his head against her chest and stared at the jagged cut in his palm. Crimson fluid still wept through the wound like the tears that trickled down his cheeks.

Her breast rose and fell with a soft sigh. "I never got into trouble. Climbing trees was just one of the daily rituals in my childhood, like playing tag with my friends or rolling through the grass with my dog. And sometimes I fell. It wasn't a rarity. I even broke my wrist once." She held out her arms for him to see. Sure enough, her left wrist seemed slightly more swollen than her right. "It's a part of childhood. Sometimes we fall down, but that's okay."

He looked up to her, his eyes full of curiosity.

She gently brushed away his tears with her thumb and kissed his nose. Her smile glowed, as every other radiant piece of her. "Real life just wouldn't be fun without those bumps in the road. You just have to get right on up and go for it again."

He stared at her, incredulous. "But Rem…"

"The tree will survive. We'll just have to cut off the damaged branch, that's all. And when your hand is better, I'll expect to see you out here again." He continued to watch her, waiting, as she gazed back to him. Playfully, she tapped his nose with her finger. "But next time, we'll pick a sturdier tree, okay?"

Slowly, Vash nodded, and a smile replaced her sorrow. She set him down and rose to her feet and offered him her hand. "Now we can see to your injury," she said, smiling. He gazed at her before nodding. He could see that he had stained her blouse and felt guilty. Whether she noticed the red splotches in the fabric or not, he didn't know. All that she saw now was him, and the sparkle in her dark eyes told him that it really didn't matter. That alone made him feel a little better.

He gave her his good hand and together they walked away.

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Vash opened his eyes and peered at the wondrous, blue skies.

It's a part of childhood. Sometimes we fall down, but that's okay. Real life just wouldn't be as fun without those bumps in the road. You just have to get right on up and go for it again.

He smiled. She'd been right, of course, as always. Those bumps in the road certainly added to the mystery of childhood, though in his adulthood, he thought he would be better off without the bumps. They were simply a nuisance that stood in the way of happiness, something he would probably never attain in more than brief doses at a time.

Vash sighed and bit into a donut. They were good. Better than good, in fact. They were simply heavenly. He had eaten all but two; he bent the opening of the bag down, sealing them inside. Maybe he should find someone to share them with. He gazed about, smiling at the prospect of making a new friend.

He heard someone step out of the general store. His eyes turned to see who it was, and he nearly fell out of his chair. A big girl with an armload of groceries strolled out onto the street and toward the crowd of children, some distance away. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief. "Milly?" he mumbled as she disappeared into the marketplace.

She had walked right on by, right past him, without noticing him. That alone was a surprise, but the bigger shock was the fact he had found her here, of all places, nowhere near the tiny town where he had left the girls just a year ago.

He stood, shaking his head. "I don't believe it."