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

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Shyla

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Year 0158 month 5 day 25

Shyla left Vash in her room and began making doughnut dough. She measured out the ingredients with more than usual care. This morning would be the first breakfast Vash and Rem could share since they had been so cruelly parted more than a century ago. She wanted it to be good for both of them.

She would make herself as unobtrusive as possible. This should be their time. Perhaps she would leave to take a walk, or go early to play with the children so they could enjoy the morning without any awkwardness from a third person. Vash might be comfortable with her there, but Rem would likely prefer some time alone with her adopted son.

She set aside the dough to let it rise, and mixed up some pancake batter. She could have the cakes baking on a griddle while doughnuts fried in the oil. What else might help make this breakfast special? She pondered until she was distracted by an emotional spike from Vash.

His feelings had been comfortable... oh dear. She'd forgotten about the nightmares when she offered him all of her memories. Had she remembered, she might have tried to edit those out.

His feelings evened out, and became comfortable again. His ever-present pain wasn't gone, but at least for the moment it was not what he felt the most strongly. His emotional echoes felt... relaxed, content. She relaxed also, and returned her attention to breakfast.

Rem came out of her room, dressed in daytime clothes with damp hair.

"Good morning, again," Shyla said cheerfully. "Breakfast should be ready shortly."

"Good morning to you also," Rem said, "and thank you."

Shyla began frying eggs and cooking pancakes for Rem. She put a pot of water on to boil, so there could be tea if either of them wanted any.

"Odd, isn't Vash done washing up yet?" Rem said.

"I haven't seen him come out," Shyla said.

She sampled his emotional echoes, and sensed that he was processing her memories. To her surprise, the contentment she sensed earlier had upgraded to actual happiness. She rarely felt that from him, at least rarely stronger than his pain. She smiled. She was pleased to have helped him gain a reprieve from that pain, however briefly it might last.

"I'm sure he's fine, though," she said.

"Maybe I should check on him," Rem said. "He started before I did."

"You didn't need to shave your face to look good for a mother you've missed seeing for more than a century," Shyla pointed out. "Maybe he's just taking extra time for you."

Rem chuckled. "Sweet thought, but I already saw him this morning with his whiskers and all. It's a little late for him to get self-conscious about his appearance now. I loved him when I changed his diapers, and that won't change from a few whiskers or hairs out of place."

"He still might want to take extra care for your sake," Shyla said. She wasn't sure if he would worry about his appearance for Rem or not, but it was a plausible explanation. Vash might not be ready for Rem to see his scars.

"I think I'll check on him anyway," Rem said. She began walking toward Shyla's door.

Shyla quickly moved the pan off the stove and turned off the heat, so that nothing would burn. Then she followed, hoping to prevent Rem from opening that door. If Vash hadn't come out on his own yet, there was a strong possibility that he might be incompletely dressed.

(Vash, Rem's coming to see you.)

She felt him pull out of the memories he'd been processing. (Thank you.)

"Vash?" Rem said, tapping on the door as she opened it.

Shyla wasn't quite fast enough. Through the open doorway, she could see Vash standing and apparently wearing nothing except a towel wrapped around his waist. He had a bathrobe in his hand, but he hadn't got it put on yet.

That was more of him than she'd ever seen before, Shyla realized. She hadn't known he had so many scars on his legs and back, too. She'd only seen him in sleeveless shirts, or with the front of a long-sleeved shirt unbuttoned. It made her heart ache to think he'd been hurt so badly, so many times as it took to make all those scars.

She would never understand why anyone would want to hurt a gentle soul like Vash.

Blinking back tears, she caught Rem around her waist and tried to pull her away. She could feel Vash's embarrassment, and knew that he was throwing on the bathrobe as fast as he possibly could. With Vash, that could be very fast indeed.

Rem wouldn't budge. "Vash!" she gasped. She wrestled free from Shyla's grasp to go to him and put her arms around him. "My God..."

He was blushing deeply as Rem released him from the hug to tug at the front of the bathrobe. It looked as if she intended to open it and look at him again. His towel dropped out from under it, and he clutched at the robe to hold it in place.

Shyla went to them. "Please, Rem," she said, "Let's allow him to get dressed. We can talk in the other room." She sent an apologetic glance toward Vash as she gathered Rem in her arms and tried again to pull the woman out of her bedroom.

"Yes, please," he said huskily, still blushing deeply. "I'll be out in a minute or two."

With obvious reluctance, Rem permitted Shyla to lead her out and pull the door shut behind them. Shyla didn't pull it until it latched, but it was enough to block Vash from view.

"You said his life had scarred him," Rem said softly. "How could I know you meant this?"

Shyla hugged the other woman and gently guided her to sit on the left end of the couch. "It hurts to see them, doesn't it?" she said. "I cry every time I see them or think of them. How much he must have suffered..." her voice broke as tears spilled down her cheeks.

"Why?" Rem asked. "Why would anyone want to do anything like that to him?"

Shyla sat beside Rem, and put her arms around her. "Some of those scars came when he rescued people from criminals," she said. "He told me once that he figured that it was better if he got hurt, instead of innocent bystanders, since he could heal better than normal humans."

"That suggests a great many rescues," Rem said softly.

"Yes," Shyla said. "It's not where they all came from, but it accounts for some of them."

"And the others?" Rem asked. Tears streamed down her cheeks, too.

Shyla was spared from needing to find a reply by the opening of her bedroom door. Shyla let go of Rem and scooted away, making space for Vash to sit between them.

He took the hint, and claimed the provided space. He sat sideways, so he was partially facing Rem. That put Rem in front of him to his right and Shyla to his left and behind. He reached out with his right hand and gently took one of Rem's hands.

Shyla leaned her head on his left shoulder, and put her arms around his waist. She knew no better way to comfort him as he spoke of painful subjects, else she'd have done that also. She made a point of feeling how much she loved him, so that he could feel it too.

"You haven't asked me, not in words," Vash said to Rem while leaning back slightly into Shyla's embrace. "But I've seen the question in your eyes. I gather someone discouraged you from asking me about... Knives."

He turned his head slightly, and Shyla could feel his attention on her. She blushed, and looked down at the floor. Even Rem would be likely to guess that qualified as a confession, if she hadn't already heard the words herself. Vash knew instantly.

His left hand patted her hands, still around his waist from behind. "You meant well," he said gently. "I must tell her, and now seems as good a time as any."

She felt him turn his head back toward Rem. "Most of the scars you saw," he said, "were either directly or indirectly caused by Knives."

Rem gasped. As Shyla looked up from the floor, she saw that the other woman had raised her free hand to cover her mouth.

"It's a long story," Vash continued. "And, unfortunately, it is not a pleasant one."

They sat thus all day and well into the evening, while Vash struggled through telling about Knives and himself. Parts of the story Shyla hadn't known before.

She could feel how much it hurt Vash to tell these things. Shyla stayed and silently listened, still hugging his waist from behind and loving him with all her might.

Rem occasionally asked questions, but mostly she sat quietly listening and holding his hand as he spoke. Tears constantly ran down her face. When he finished, Rem leaned forward to hug him, and Shyla let go of him so that she could.

"Don't blame yourself so much, Vash," Rem said. "He made his own choices."

"If I'd been a better brother..."

"Nonsense," Rem declared with conviction. "I'm sure you did the very best you could at the time. Knives is guilty of his own sins. Don't try to carry them for him."

Shyla could see and feel that those words helped Vash. She smiled through her tears, internally thanking Rem for saying that and meaning it. He would not have been helped half so much by hearing those words from anyone else.

Suddenly she recalled the breakfast she never finished making. The half-cooked food in the pan was probably hopeless, but the rest of the batter and dough should still be ready for cooking.

"We never had breakfast," she said softly. "Would either of you be interested, if I cooked up the pancakes and doughnuts now?"

Vash brightened a little. "I'm always interested in your doughnuts," he said.

Shyla smiled. "I will cook some for you then," she said, "and pancakes for Rem."