Chapter Text
Rem wakes sprawled in cold sand, and knows she must be dead.
She used to love the beach, before she bid a tearful goodbye to Earth. The cool feel of damp sand underfoot was one of the best feelings in the world, and she's glad she's been gifted such a feeling again.
The sand and the soft lapping of ocean waves.
There is no sound of waves.
There are no waves.
She hears no water.
It's just sand.
The sand is not damp.
Just cold.
Very cold.
This is wrong.
She levers herself up with a gasp, heart pounding. It's dark out, her eyes adjusting to soft moonlight and seeing nothing but sand no matter what direction she looks.
The ships- the ships had been falling. She'd done everything she could to correct their courses in a way that would spare lives, but there should be wreckage. Fire. There's nothing.
She presses one trembling hand to her breast and confirms that her heart is still beating. She's alive. Somehow she's survived the crash and ended up…here.
Her boys.
If she survived the crash, she needs to find her boys. Before anyone else can, before anyone realizes what they are.
When Rem scrambles to her feet she winces automatically, expecting a hasty and thoughtless action to result in pain.
There is none.
Somehow, miraculously, impossibly, she's uninjured. That can't be right, yet somehow it is.
It's dark, but the light of some kind of moon overhead is enough to scan the horizon for any kind of shelter. She wishes again that her boys were here - tapetum lucidum, they could always see so well in the dark.
It meant they had an easier time sneaking around to make mischief after lights out, but it also meant that if she could sneak up on them and snap the lights on they'd cringe and whine about the brightness for long enough for her to scruff them before they could run, giggling, away.
God, in the dark one flash of light against reflective eyes and someone would know something was wrong. She has to find them.
On the horizon, she sees the silhouette of something. It could be a rock formation, or it could be a crashed ship. Either way, it's the only thing in sight.
Worst case scenario, she'll have shade for when the sun comes up.
—-
The shape was not as far away as she thought. It had looked small, distant, because most of it was hidden behind the dunes.
Rem had walked for what felt like forever, but she knows it can't have been more than a few hours. Far less than she'd expected.
She's unsure of how long she's stood at the apex of this dune, staring uncomprehendingly at an impossible sight.
It's a town. There's a town down there, with buildings and lights and the murmur of voices. Shouting, laughter.
It's impossible, but it's right there. She doesn't know how to reconcile it. She doesn't know what to do.
But…if her boys found this place, they would have headed for it. They would have entered a settlement over the expanse of the desert in a heartbeat, probably looking for her the whole while.
…okay. Okay.
Her legs feel numb and weak from shock, but she makes it down the dune without falling.
—-
The people are human. Rem had considered the possibility, as she'd walked on numb legs towards the town boundaries, that this planet housed intelligent alien life.
At any other time the concept would have been immeasurably exciting, but she has two of her own little aliens to worry about right now.
But no. The people in the streets are weathered and dirty and impossibly human. Just living out here, like it's normal.
Suspend your disbelief , she keeps telling herself. Just focus on Vash and Nai, don't think about anything else.
She goes from person to person, group to group, street stall to street stall. She asks the same questions each time - have you seen two young boys? Blonde hair, blue eyes? - and each time they look at her clothes so different from theirs and her pale face oddly and answer no. Sorry, lady.
With each denial the kernel of anxiety in her chest flares.
An offhand suggestion to ask around at the saloon sends her to a building with wooden doors barely hanging on to their hinges, splintered in more than one place from what look for all the world to have been bullet holes.
The place sounded rowdy from the outside, but almost as soon as she pushes the doors open and walks in the place falls quiet.
She knows she's an oddity - she's a little wild eyed and her clothes are nothing like theirs, it's no wonder they stare.
It's daunting, but the silence isn't necessarily a bad thing.
"Excuse me," she calls out, voice seeming painfully loud in the smoke filled silence. "Has anyone seen two young boys? They're blonde, blue eyes. We got separated."
The silence stretches, people looking at each other and murmuring or shaking their heads a little. All of them eventually turn away. They dismiss her and go back to their drinks, their cigarettes, their card games and conversations.
She feels like she's going crazy. She must be dreaming, but the dryness of thirst in her throat suggests otherwise.
She picks her way through the place and to the bar.
The woman behind the bar gives her a long look up and down, face stony. "...what can I get for you?"
"Water?" Rem tries. The woman grunts and nods, turning away.
They have water. How do they have water? A Plant?
It doesn't take the woman long to return, putting the glass down with a clunk and saying, "If you want more you'll have to pay for it like everyone else."
Rem's brain spins around the idea that there's currency in use somehow, but she pushes it aside. Suspend your disbelief. Suspend your disbelief. All that matters is the boys.
"Thank you."
Rem falters a little at the sight of the water in the glass. It's not quite clear, a little cloudy.
A look up and down the bar shows people drinking the same water. It's off putting, but if people are drinking it…it's probably not dangerous, and she can't afford to be picky about where she finds something as critical as water right now. She has no idea when she'll get access to it again.
When she takes the first drink she finds out she's more than thirsty enough to ignore the quality. The glass is drained in moments.
"Hey, lady!"
Turning her head, Rem sees a table of three rugged men trying to wave her over. Her gut twists with wariness immediately. They see her hesitation and call out again.
"You said you lost some kids, right?"
…okay. Okay.
With instinct still niggling at the back of her brain that something is off, she makes her way warily to their table.
These men look much like all the other men in here. Dirty, weathered. Armed.
"How old are these kids you're looking for?" one asks, tangled brown hair hanging from underneath a brimmed hat. She thinks briefly of the Westerns Nai loves so much.
They just had their first birthday.
"They're about ten. Blonde, blue eyes - they're identical twins, they would have stuck together no matter what."
One of the other men whistles lowly. "Identical twins. Don't see that very often."
"No," Rem agrees. "So they're very distinctive. Have you…?"
"Nah. But look, lady…kids that age, some folks'll pay good money for. Twins? That's a gold mine. Traffickers might already have picked the tykes up."
A wave of nausea rolls up from her stomach so strong she almost gags. She can feel the blood drain from her face, knows her distress is visible.
"Hey, now," the man croons. "Don't you worry. We know where and when a couple of those groups tend to pass through. Where'd you lose your boys, huh?"
Sickly sweet. That's how she'd characterize the way this guy is talking to her. And the look in his eyes? There's something off about it.
She doesn't like him.
"...we were on SEEDS Ship Five when it crashed. I don't know how far from the site they landed - or I landed."
Silence. Dead, deafening silence to go with flabbergasted faces and wide eyes, all three of the men at the table so still they might have been in cold sleep.
Then, suddenly, they laugh. It's short and sharp before they visibly reign themselves in, eyes shining with amusement. The man in the hat clears his throat, lips pressed together.
Rem feels sick. Everything is so wrong.
"Ship Five," the man says, clearing his throat a second time. Holding back a smile. "Sure, I know where that is. Why don't the lot of us take you out that way and we can look for your boys before anyone else picks them up?"
They think she's stupid, Rem realizes. They must, to think she'll go anywhere with them. This couldn't be shadier if they tried.
No, if she goes anywhere with these men she's willing to bet she'll end up being the one trafficked. They're probably even interested in the idea of finding her 'gold mine' twins.
"No, I don't think so. Thanks."
There it is. A flash of irritation, of something dangerous in their eyes. Two of them start to shift like they're preparing to get up.
"Come on now," the hat man says. "Don't be unreasonable. It would be dangerous to go out there all on your own."
Rem's heart starts beating harder. This is bad. This is very bad.
"That's very kind of you, but I said no. I'm going to be leaving now."
She takes one step backwards and suddenly all three of them are on their feet. That's not what makes her freeze in place; that would be the barrels of the guns they point at her from waist level, as if not to draw too much attention.
"You won't be going anywhere. It's far too dangerous to let a young woman like you wander around out there."
Yeah, right. All the sweetness is gone. They all know the words are empty, said for appearances alone.
Not, Rem thinks as she glances around, that anyone seems like they'd much care to step in.
She steels herself to run, maybe hope she can get lost in the press of people before someone can empty a round into her back-
"Let's leave the lady alone, huh?"
This voice is new, and it's accompanied by the figure of a man slipping by her shoulder to stand partially in front of her.
He's tall, tall enough she can barely see over the shoulder he seems to shield her with.
The relief of someone actually stepping in to help is so profound she feels like she might cry.
The trio of what she's now sure must be traffickers seem as surprised about someone coming to her aid as she does, brows furrowing and expressions darkening.
"What," the hat man says. "You lookin' to take her place, pretty boy?"
"Uhhh," the stranger hums, voice deceptively soft for the tension she can see in his shoulder. He hides it well, adopts a care free posture. "No, thanks."
He is pretty, from what Rem can see of him. He doesn't look weathered and rough like these men, with pale smooth skin and undercut blonde hair. 'Pretty boy' might be an apt moniker if it wasn't spoken like an insult.
"Then step aside," the trafficker says lowly. "Before your pathetic white knight act gets you a bullet to the gut."
"I don't think I will," the blonde replies casually. "But it would be nice if everyone would put their guns away. We wouldn't want to ruin the atmosphere in this fine place, would we?"
How, Rem wonders, does this guy sound so confident and so clueless all at the same time?
He's going to get himself killed like this - killed for her , because he's some nice guy trying to do the right thing.
Despite that, she selfishly wants to fist her hand in his vibrant red coat and take cover behind him. He was the only one here with the integrity to step in and help; the only tenuous lifeline she has in this place.
"Listen, you fucking punk-"
The man starts to step forward, and one of his friends grabs him by the shoulder almost frantically to stop him.
"Are you blind or nuts, man? That's the fucking Stampede. You'll get us all killed, let it go."
Shockingly enough, whatever weight the reputation of 'The Stampede' holds, it makes the man in the hat falter and look the blonde over again. It's a little baffling.
He doesn't look threatening, this Stampede. He hasn't even raised his voice. Hell, he's had a soft smile on his face the whole time.
"Shit," the man hisses after his eyes travel over the blonde again. "It is, isn't it? …bounty picture didn't do you justice, pretty boy."
Bounty. The word is like ice water down her back.
The Stampede laughs, a front of a sound through and through as he raises a hand to scrub at the base of his undercut. "Thanks, I guess. How about we put our guns in our holsters? We can all walk out of this as friends, right?"
She should run, she thinks. While they're all preoccupied with each other she should be getting out of here.
Her legs feel like lead, rooted to the spot.
The lead trafficker hums, eyes assessing. "We could, I guess…or we could take you out, make some cash. Fuck, could just take you in general. Wasn't joking about your bounty picture, sweet thing- bet a lot of people would pay good money for a night with the Humanoid Typhoon."
The third man finally pipes up. "Fuck that. You try it and I'm not backing you up, Danny. I don't stand a chance against a 60 billion double dollar man and neither do you. If he wants the broad for himself let him take her. I ain't dying for something stupid like this."
Sixty billion? A sixty billion dollar (double dollar?) bounty? What kind of man racks up that kind of price on his head?
Danny scowls and stares the blonde down like he's searching for something. A weakness, a sign.
Slowly, the Stampede brushes the right side of his coat open, and though Rem can't see it from where she stands she knows he must be exposing a holstered gun.
"Listen to your friend, Danny. I'd really rather not hurt you."
The silence stretches, suffocating and loaded.
Run! she tells herself. They're fighting over you, you idiot! Run away!
"Fuck!" Danny spits out, so suddenly she jumps. "Fine. Take her if you want her so bad."
Another fake laugh.
Run.
"Much obliged, sir! Have a good evening!"
Run!
The Stampede turns and grips both of her shoulders with a force that's just shy of becoming painful, turning her bodily around before she can react and walking her back through the bar.
She's struck dumb with fright, legs taking one step after another without her conscious input.
He's so strong. She doesn't think she could break away if she tried.
The hand on her left shoulder doesn't feel right. She's pretty sure it's not real.
He releases his hold when they walk out the front doors just long enough to shift so that they're walking side by side, his right arm around her shoulders and hand, once again, gripping tight.
There's no trace of the lighthearted smile or friendliness when she chances a look up at his face. His expression is stony now, eyes darting around and tracking every passerby like a trapped animal as he steers her through the streets.
It's like a switch flipped. It's terrifying, and it's all she can do to keep up.
"Where are we going?" she eventually manages to grit out, noticing the supremely unsettling fact that he seems to be sticking to the least public streets he can.
The fingers on her shoulder twitch like it surprises him when she talks. His voice is oddly strained when he replies shortly, "Somewhere safe."
She almost laughs. Somewhere safe? Like Danny and his friends were going to bring me somewhere safe?
Run, she tells herself again. Just try. But then she thinks about the fact that he has a gun. She can't be hasty, someone with a bounty on their head can surely draw and fire faster than she can get out of the line of sight.
No matter what, she can't die. That's the one option that's not an option - she has to find her boys. She has to wait. She has to find an opportunity to do something. Anything.
He brings her to an inn. She knows she looks like a prey animal in the jaws of a wolf just by the way the innkeeper double takes at her as they walk in.
The man glances at who's guiding her along and immediately averts his eyes, though his face is not without guilt.
They're all afraid of this man, aren't they? None of them dare say a word.
Rem is amazed her legs don't give out on the way up the stairs. She's truly moving on autopilot.
The hallway stretches on forever and is traversed too quickly at the same time. She finally gets a good look at The Stampede's left hand when he fishes a key deftly out of his pocket and twists it the right way around in nimble fingers. It's prosthetic, a bottle blue-green she's never seen before.
He doesn't let go of her shoulder once, not even when he's unlocking the door.
He guides Rem in first, whirling to shut and lock the door as soon as his hand leaves her shoulder and then just… standing there.
While Rem turns and takes a few quick steps backwards away from him, The Stampede presses his forehead against the closed door and doesn't move.
He looks like he's breathing heavily, she realizes. He almost looks like he's shaking. It's…unsettling.
She's not sure how long she stares at his bowed back in silence, but eventually he seems to gather himself and stand straight again, palms flat against the door. One long, low sigh later and he's turning into the room.
She tries to stay out of his way.
He doesn't look at her. He almost seems like he won't , like he's trying not to face her head on. She moves as he does, skirting around the side as he walks further into the room in oppressive silence.
He stops at a little table, staring down at it. She's not sure what the expression on his face is like; she's positioned herself to his back.
There's a variety of things strewn across the table itself, a lot of items she only vaguely recognizes enough to realize it's a tool kit for weapon maintenance. He must sit here and work on his gun when he's not…doing whatever he was doing out there at the saloon.
Drinking? Cruising for a partner? Looking for a fight?
Rem tenses when The Stampede reaches to the right side of his waist again, going so tight and nervous she swears she could rip a muscle as he pulls his gun from the holster and-
Sets it down. He sets it down on the table with all the tools like it's a routine, like nothing is different about this from any other night. Like she's not a threat. It's a little insulting.
It's also a mistake she can use to her advantage.
Nerves thrumming with anxiety and disbelief, she tracks him as he strides across the room to peer out the window, looking up and down the street as if worried they've been followed.
There's no way. There's no way he's really just disarmed himself and turned his back to her.
The Stampede closes the curtains and blows out another heaving breath, shaking his head. His voice is breathy with something like disbelief. "Where did you-"
Rem lunges for the gun. The Stampede seems to jolt a little at the sound, starting to turn around as she snatches the firearm up and points it with shaking hands.
She almost drops it. It's much heavier than she expected.
"Don't move!"
"...eh?"
The utterance is so high pitched with shock it's more of a squeak. Slowly, The Stampede raises both of his hands.
"Turn around. Slowly! I don't want to shoot you."
He seems to be taking her seriously now, turning around slowly just like she asks. It's the first time she's really seen his face head on.
He's young, beautiful and positively flabbergasted. He has big blue eyes that are round as dinner plates behind a pair of orange glasses, face slack with shock.
Rem wonders how such a young man could rack up a bounty like they accused him of. She tries not to let how soft and sweet his face looks ease her; she's sure he must know how to use his looks to his advantage, and she knows better than to judge a book by the cover.
His eyes flicker over her for a split second before understanding and what almost seems like regret dawns across his face. "Oh. I scared you."
Rem barks out a laugh just because there's nowhere else to put her disbelief. "You think?"
His face twists, ducking his head and bowing his shoulders as if to make himself look smaller. It seems like a practiced motion.
"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to, I just wanted to get you out of there."
"And into a hotel room?"
The rate at which the blood drains from The Stampede's face surprises her. He looks truly horrified by the suggestion. "No! I mean yes but-! I would never- I just wanted to find somewhere safe and private, I swear. I'm not that kind of guy. I-I helped you, right?"
"You did," Rem agrees. "And apparently you're also a criminal. I don't know anything about you except that you've got a huge bounty on your head."
Something like pain flickers across that expressive face. She wishes he'd stop seeming so pitiful; it's too disarming.
"You're right," he concedes. "You have no reason to trust me. Why don't we just…sit down and talk? Does that sound alright?"
Rem purses her lips. Soft spoken and persuasive, it's hard to deny such a reasonable request. She hadn't expected him to be so agreeable.
"You first," she eventually decides on, gesturing at a chair. She wishes her hands would stop shaking - it's making the threat of the gun seem weak.
"Okay," he agrees quickly. "You got it, boss."
If the way he pulls the chair out to sit while always keeping his hands in view and not making any sudden movements means anything, it's that The Stampede is no stranger to being held at gunpoint. He knows exactly what to do to minimize the chances of being shot by a jumpy or inexperienced gunman.
When he sits, he lays his hands flat on the table in plain view.
He doesn't even push. He just waits for her to decide she's ready to sit too.
Why does he look at her like the sight of her hurts? He hides it, but not well enough.
When she sits down, she stops aiming the gun directly at him. She keeps a firm hold on it, though. His eyes flicker to it, but he doesn't say anything.
"...introductions?" he tries with a tilt of the head and a nervous smile. "I'm V- very pleased to meet you. Sorry for scaring you like that, I just wanted to get you out of there. I'm Eriks."
No you're not. That was a stumble. A beautifully handled one, but The Stampede was about to give her a different name than that. She wonders why he would hesitate.
"Rem Saverem."
Pain. Why does his face keep flashing with pain?
"Nice to meet you, Rem. How, uh…how did you get here?"
Eriks smiles brightly, tone friendly and at ease and it's all so fake. None of it reaches his eyes, the odd feeling that he's barely holding himself together niggling at the back of Rem's brain. Something's wrong with him.
She thinks back to the thinly veiled laughter the trafficker trio had responded to her with when she said she was on Ship Five. They hadn't believed her - he probably won't either, but he might at least tell her why.
"I walked. I woke up in the desert after the crash."
Eriks presses his lips together, brows twitching into a slight knit. "Right…I heard you say you were on a SEEDS ship. That's the last thing you remember, huh? Crashing?"
The lack of laughter or disbelief genuinely takes Rem off guard for a moment. She's not stupid , something is incredibly wrong with all of this. It's simply not possible for her to be standing in a town with established businesses and buildings when the fleet has just crashed. It would be impossible if they'd landed intact and intentionally.
Those men had thought she was crazy for obvious reasons. Eriks looks at her like he's taking her seriously.
"I…yes. Then you must also have heard that I'm looking for- for my sons? Twins, blonde hair and blue eyes? They're still just babies, they need me. Have you…?"
Eriks looks down at the table as if to hide the way his face twists, fiddling with the tools on the table as if desperate just for something to do with his hands.
"...what?" Rem forces herself to ask. "What is it?"
He sighs, pursing his lips. She's not sure he knows what to say. Maybe he's trying to figure out whether to say something.
"Listen, Rem…"He glances up at her for just a moment, but seems to decide quickly he doesn't want to be looking at her while he says his piece. "I…I don't think you're going to find your kids."
Another wave of nausea rises in her throat. "Why? They can't have gone far, they're only little-"
"Rem."
She stutters to a stop, eyes burning. She has to find them. There's no other option.
The Stampede finally steels himself to look at her, eyes sad. Hurting.
"Why? Why not?"
"Because the Great Fall- the SEEDs crash- that was more than a hundred and fifty years ago, Rem."
…oh.
Cold.
Yes, that's how it feels, this sensation.
Cold and numb. Laced through with terror she can't quite feel.
"...m. Rem?"
She can't respond. Frankly she couldn't say what kind of expression is on his face if she tried - she's seeing without seeing.
A hundred and fifty years. She should laugh in his face.
Him and his inn room and his bounty and the saloon she found him in and the established society around them and their currency and culture.
Him and a hundred and fifty years of new human progress.
Eriks clears his throat, wringing his hands. "W-well, um…it's late and you- you're probably…tired."
A hundred and fifty years is generations of people come and gone.
Rem has tried so hard not to think about how fast her babies have grown; whenever she does she has to find a place to calm down. In just a year they grew so big, got so smart.
She tries so hard every day not to wonder when the rapid growth stops - whether it stops.
Tesla came before them, but they never gave that poor girl a chance to show them. She was failing and dying by the time she was Vash and Nai's size, there's no precedent that can tell Rem if her boys will live a normal life or…or if they're just shooting stars burning bright for a very short time.
Eriks clears his throat and stands carefully from the table.
They could have been grown and gone within years of the crash. Even if they weren't, a hundred and fifty years is just too-
"You, um…you can stay here tonight. Should stay here, actually-"
"No!" she blurts.
Eriks jolts as if he's a startled cat and not an expensive outlaw, blinking owlishly at her. "Uhhhh, I really do think you should stay here. It's not-"
"No," Rem repeats, feeling a little manic. "No, not- I can't be here. You said it's- it's called The Great Fall? That it happened a century ago? So I can't be here. But I am."
Eriks stares at her, silent and still like a statue.
"I can't be here, and neither can they. But if I am, then…then they could be too. I have to look for them."
Eriks stares at her with some emotion she can't place, the depth of it fathomless even with the shade of those glasses and the low light doing their best to hide his eyes.
" Please ," she tries, unsure of why she's compelled to ask, or even what she's asking. She doesn't need his permission. "I have to try."
The silence weighs so heavy it feels like she can't move. Maybe neither of them can. Then something soft and almost mournful comes over Eriks' face and he sighs, angling his head so the shine of the glasses shields his eyes from view.
Rem gets the feeling he's practiced to know exactly how to hide like that when he wants to.
"Of course you do. You're a good mom." Slowly he nods, rubbing the back of his head. "...okay. Okay. But for now, you should sleep. Take the bed. Take the gun too, if you don't trust me."
She does take the gun. She holds it close to her chest and tries not to sleep at all, but the exhaustion is too much to resist.
Eriks had brushed her off when she asked where he would sleep - despite his status as a criminal and a total stranger, she can't help but be concerned.
I'm a practiced desert rat, he'd laughed, producing a pitiful excuse for a sleeping bag out of his duffel and spreading it on the floor. I can sleep anywhere.
Rem doesn't think she lasts very long in her efforts to keep an eye on him before she falls asleep.
It's not deep. The barely there rustle of movement wakes her easily, though she lays still and quiet.
It's terrifying, how silently The Stampede moves. Even in the dead quiet she barely hears his footsteps until he's drawn right up next to her at the bed. Her heart pounds.
What does he want? Will he try to take the gun back? Try to hurt her? He seems so gentle, but the most dangerous people know how to hide behind a kind face.
He does nothing. He just stands there - she knows if she were to open her eyes she'd see him looming over her. Watching.
It lasts for an eternity before he ghosts away.
Rem only knows he's gone to the table because of the whisper of the chair being pulled out. It's silent for a long while before…hitching breaths? He couldn't be-
Rem cracks her eyes open just enough to peek. In the darkness, the silhouette of a man shakes with near silent sobs.
Her heart aches. She wants to reach out and soothe him.
She doesn't. He didn't mean for her to see this, and so she closes her eyes. It's all she can do to give him his dignity.