This is tale is more manga-verse than anime-verse. However, most of it should make sense to anyone who's seen "Rem Saverem" and "Goodbye for Now" or else read through Trigun and the first two chapters of Trigun Maximum volume 1. This story occurs very shortly after the fifth moon acquired a large crater, and portrays Vash recalling [non-canon] events from much earlier in his life.

Note: I do not own Vash "the Stampede," Rem Saverem, Grandma Sheryl, Lina, or Millions Knives: they all belong to the incomparable Mr. Yasuhiro Nightow.

Spoiler Alert: This brief tale contains some fairly serious spoilers for Trigun Maximum Volume 1, with minor references to flashback events described in volumes 6 and 7.

…

Flashback

Location: a town called "Kasted" on the planet known as "No Man's Land."

Year 110, approximately month 11… or perhaps it was month 12?

He wasn't sure how long he'd wandered in the desert, before finding himself in Kasted.

Now he was faced with questions that he did not know how best to answer. The questions were asked gently, by an old woman who had no idea what she had taken into her home.

Since Sheryl had given him food, and offered further hospitality, he felt that he ought to say something.

"I've been alone for a long time," he said softly, looking toward the ground. That was true, even though, for a few short weeks before this latest visit to Jeneora Rock, he had not been entirely alone.

Thankfully, his problems were no longer likely to harm his former companions. He hoped they had gotten far enough away in time to be safe from whatever had happened.

"I was injured," he continued. "I guess I got lost." He rubbed at the stump of his left arm, where a prosthetic used to be attached. He didn't know what else he should say.

He was nearly out of breath, just from those few words. He was more weary than he ever recalled being before, even after July. Every part of him hurt, not the least of which was how his clothing all felt like burning sandpaper against his currently too-sensitive skin. The partly-healed bullet wounds in his right leg hurt much worse than bullet-wounds usually did, too.

It took almost all of his concentration just to remain upright, and not fall over.

He had not expected to live. He had not prepared answers, in case anyone should ask him any questions. He disliked lying. He chose to be vague. Without saying anything specific, he acted as if his memory of recent events was considerably less than it was.

In truth, he had forgotten much of what happened. There were large, alarming, blank spaces in his memory. They fell between when he saw Knives, and when he left Jeneora Rock. He had ventured into the desert, deliberately avoiding looking up at the sky.

He still avoided looking at the sky, which had previously been a favorite pastime in peaceful moments. He couldn't bear to look at what he would see there at night. Seeing that damaged moon pained his heart worse than his physical injuries pained his body.

"You don't have to trouble yourselves with me," he said softly. "You can send me away." He was too tired to think anymore. He bowed his head, and waited.

"Well, young man," Sheryl said kindly, "it looks as if my granddaughter is correct. You appear to need a home, very badly. What is your name?"

"I …" he said, and wearily paused to think about how he should answer that question.

He felt his brows draw together as he frowned in an effort to concentrate. He must carefully consider and choose the best answer. He could no longer be Vash "the Stampede." That person needed to disappear forever, just like the top of Jeneora Rock, and just like a substantial piece of the fifth moon, and just like most of his left arm.

In the space of a few heartbeats, he remembered something that gave him the answer he needed. He recalled a name, from a character in a very old French novel, which fit him almost too well. It would be a useful, constant reminder of what he was.

Before he could speak, however, Lina chimed in. "Don't be shy," she said. "Tell us your name."

"Erik S—" he began, but then he stopped. He was unable to claim Rem's surname as he had begun to do. He did not deserve to borrow it, not after what he had done. His use of it would not honor her memory, not as she deserved to be honored.

"Eriks?" Lina said. "Pleased to meet you." She extended her hand, and he stopped rubbing at his stump to shake her hand.

"Welcome home, Eriks," Sheryl said. She also extended her hand, and he shook her hand as he had shaken Lina's. "Come around back, and let's get you cleaned up," she added. "You smell like it's been too long since the last time you washed."

He nodded wearily. He slowly pushed himself up off the chair, and staggered after her as best he could.

The memories that had prompted his choice of a new name continued to echo in his head as she led him to her back yard, and began filling a small tub…

…

On the Seeds mother ship, 149 years earlier…

"Vash? Knives?" Rem called. "There's something I'd like to show you. Please come to the rec room?"

"Okay," Vash called back. He stood and hurried toward the door of the room, curious about what Rem wanted to show them.

Knives sat where he was, without moving.

"Are you coming, Knives?" Vash asked, stopping halfway to the door and turning back to look at his brother.

"No," Knives said. "It will only be more dumb human stuff."

"Not all human stuff is dumb," Vash said. "Some of it can be fun, or at least interesting."

"I'd rather play chess with the computer," Knives said grumpily. "If you want to waste your time on that trash, go ahead."

"Knives…" Vash began, and took a step toward him. But he was silenced by a gesture.

"Go on," Knives said. "I want to be alone right now, anyway."

Vash walked to the door, but hesitated in the doorway. He turned back to face his brother again. "Are you sure that you don't want to –"

"No," Knives growled. "Go away."

Vash's shoulders slumped. "We will miss you, Knives," he said sadly.

Knives did not respond.

Vash sighed, and turned away. Knives had always been more inclined to spend time alone than he had. Vash loved his brother, so he tried to give Knives what he said he wanted.

It was okay to be different. Rem had taught them that. However, this difference always puzzled Vash. He just could not understand why anybody would ever choose not to spend time with Rem. She was wonderful!

Sometimes it seemed like Knives hadn't been quite the same since he had spent all those weeks asleep after they learned about Tessla. As deeply distressed as Vash had been personally, he had also been worried about Knives.

It had been such a relief when Knives first woke up after that! However, since then, it often seemed like Knives was pulling away from both of them – especially Rem.

Other times, Knives would choose to spend time with them. At those times, it seemed like everything was as it had always been.

Vash knew that Rem was worried about Knives, too. She'd said so, but more importantly she'd shown her concern by making extra efforts to reach out to Knives.

Perhaps Knives would let Vash cheer him up later. Holding on to that hopeful thought, Vash went to see what Rem wanted to show him.

"Hello Vash," Rem said, smiling.

Vash loved her smile. "Hello Rem," he said, and smiled back at her. He ran to her and hugged her around her waist, which was about as high as he could reach.

"Isn't Knives coming?" she asked softly, as she hugged him back.

"No," Vash said. "He said he wanted to play chess with the computer instead."

Rem looked disappointed for a moment, but then her smile returned. "Well, I hope you'll enjoy this," she said. "If we have fun, maybe Knives will want to join us next time."

"Maybe he will," Vash said hopefully.

"I wanted to show you something called a musical," Rem said. "I've always loved music, and singing. Musicals have singing and dancing in them. This one's especially fun, since it is showing several people pretending to be cats."

"Cats?" Vash said, puzzled. "I've seen pictures of them. Aren't they small, furry, four-footed creatures? How could people pretend to be one of those?"

"Cats can be very graceful in their movements," Rem said. "So sometimes it's fun, especially for people who really enjoy dancing, to try to be as graceful as cats are. Come, sit with me. We can share this popcorn while we watch."

Vash was intrigued as he watched the story of the Jellicle cats. He became acquainted with Munkustrap, Jennyanydots, Rum Tum Tugger, Bustopher Jones, Grizabella, Old Deuteronomy, and all of the others.

He laughed at the antics of some of the dancers, and cried over Grizabella's sad story, and worried when Old Deuteronomy seemed to be in danger.

He couldn't decide which cat was his favorite. He liked most of them, except for Macavity.

When it was done, he hugged Rem again. "Thank you for showing this to me," he said. "Most of it was fun."

"I wanted to show you this for more reasons than just fun," she said softly as she hugged him back. "I wanted you to see how the main reason why they all were so mean to Grizabella is that they didn't know her."

"When they really got to know her," Rem continued "they didn't dislike her anymore. I think the same will be true for you and Knives, Vash. I think that when people really get to know you, they will love you almost as much as I do. You'll just need to be patient with them."

Vash snuggled into Rem's arms and sighed contentedly. He liked being close to her. Even though her feelings echoed far more softly than those of Knives or the plants in the bulbs, he could still sense them and smell the changes that came with her changing moods. He liked the echoes and smells that came when she was feeling love.

"I love you too, Rem," he said. He looked up at her face and smiled. All was right in his world, when she was near and feeling love for him and for Knives.

She smiled and brushed the end of his nose with a fingertip.

"Are there any more like that one?" he asked. "A story with singing and dancing, and someone who's outcast just because people didn't know or understand them? Especially if they get friends at the end, after people get to know them… I want to see another one that's like that."

"Well, there might be many like that," she said. "But right now I can only remember one other that's similar. Unfortunately, that outcast, well…" she sighed sadly. "Erik had been alone, and living in the dark, for so very long that he became confused about what was right and what was wrong. He forgot, if he ever knew, how to treat other people."

She sounded, felt and smelled so sad that he hugged her again.

"Erik did some terrible things," she said softly, "partly because he had been completely isolated and hiding in the dark for far too long. But when someone finally got to know him, she cared about him anyway. Christine didn't stay with him, because the terrible things he did made her afraid. But she treated him kindly and wished him well."

"Can we watch that story, too, please?" he said.

"It doesn't have a completely happy ending, like 'Cats' does," Rem said. "It ends with Erik being left alone, because he had hurt too many people. At the end, he did have a few people who came to understand him, and who would always think kindly toward him. However, there were still others who called him a monster because he looked different, and because of what he had done."

"I would still like to see it," he said. "Please, Rem?"

She smiled. "All right," she said.

He had to let go of her so she could get up and make the computer show the other musical. Then she returned to sit beside him, and they watched the second musical together as they had watched the first.

"The Phantom of the Opera" was, as Rem had warned him, both similar to and very different from "Cats." The stage and costumes were more dramatic than those in "Cats." The music and lyrics were far less light-hearted. In fact, in places, they were very dark.

The story was much sadder. Vash was soon crying, his innocent heart breaking for the sad, solitary figure of the "monster" man, Erik, who told Christine he was "The Angel of Music,' though to others he described himself as "The Phantom of the Opera."

Different and dangerous, the man had frightened Christine. She described what she saw "… in his eyes, all the sadness of the world… Those pleading eyes, that both threaten and adore…"

When the musical ended, Rem tried to comfort Vash. "Did I make a mistake?" she asked gently. "Would it have been better if I had not shown you the second story?"

"No," Vash said, sniffling and clinging to her. "I'm glad that you showed it to me."

"Please," Rem said softly, gently ruffling his hair as she hugged him, "don't ever make the same mistakes that Erik did."

Her tone grew more serious. "Don't isolate yourself so much that you forget how to love. And never, ever, take the life of another."

"I won't, Rem," Vash whispered. "I promise."

…

Location: a town called "Kasted" on the planet known as "No Man's Land."

Year 110, approximately month 11…

Normal humans sometimes referred to plants as "angels" because they could generate and spread appendages resembling wings.

Vash knew that he was no angel. Especially not an "Angel of Music."

Oh, he could sing well enough that nobody covered their ears, but his voice would never charm anyone as the Phantom's voice had done with Christine.

However, Vash felt that he had many other things in common with the Phantom. Borrowing his name seemed appropriate.

Vash decided that he would do his best to behave as a guardian angel to these two. It was the best method he knew of, to repay them for their kindness in taking him in.

He fell to his knees, too weary to stand.

Sheryl finished filling the tub, and then helped him out of his clothes and into the tub.

He was surprised by her reaction to his scars.

"Oh, you poor thing," she said.

It was almost what Christine had said of Erik, near the end of the story.

This, however, was a beginning. He hoped, and prayed, that it would end better… at least, for Sheryl and Lina.