Gone. They're all gone. Like dust in the wind. Ashes to ashes, or whatever it was that Rem was so fond of saying. Everyone I ever loved died, and yet I still live. Some days, the silence gets to be too much. Even the wind seems to tiptoe around this falling-down shack, afraid of disturbing the silence.

I'm all alone. Once upon a time, it probably wouldn't have bothered me so much. Being alone was preferred over being chased by bounty hunters or by a past that wouldn't die. All alone now-and there's nothing left for me.

Knives is dead. My brother, my twin…of all the ironies that my life has been, my brother's end was probably the biggest. For all his hatred of humanity; the death and destruction, the psychotic twin of the Humanoid Typhoon died not by some great violent act of retribution, but because of his love for a human woman.

Odd as it may sound, I can understand. After I managed to knock him unconscious in our last fight, I took him home. He regained consciousness, ever the same, but slightly more sullen. His wounds healed quickly, as to be expected, and we parted ways for twenty years with no contact.

I was surprised to receive a letter from Millie about twenty years later. Of course, she and Meryl had kept in contact, so that was no large shock. The surprise was that she was writing to tell us that Knives was dead.

As much as I loved my brother, I was somewhat relieved. I no longer needed to be the one to protect humanity from him. But I was puzzled. The letter claimed that some children from Milly's orphanage had discovered a small house a few isles in the desert with two bodies.

Milly set out to investigate, and came across the bodies of my brother and a woman lying in the single bed. Her letter went on to describe the way they lay, which led me to believe that my brother had finally found love. A psychopath like my brother…in love with a human? The idea would have been laughable, had it not seemed so sudden. Milly found them laying together-my brother with his arms around the frail body of an elderly woman. My brother in love…his hatred towards the people of this planet might have been understandable, but never forgivable, and least of all predictable.

But he's gone now, just like all the others. Milly herself lived another seven years before succumbing to a long-term illness. I'm sorry I couldn't see her before she died, but that was about the same time Meryl thought she was pregnant, and I couldn't leave her side. At least Milly died surrounded by family and the children of the orphanage she set up in memory of Wolfwood. Perhaps they're together now, happy at last.

Here I am again…rambling in my old age. Even though I look about the same as I did the first time they all came into my life, I feel like I've aged another century. Then again, it's almost been that long. Days seem to pass like moments here.

The coffee cup sitting in front of me on the tiny table has cooled; almost to the point of sludge. I remember this kitchen as it was years ago; the one time Knives came to visit Meryl and me on a whim. He had changed-that much was true, but he never let on about any relationships. Knives in love. Huh. That woman must have been something else to capture his heart. Out of all the questions I would like to ask him right now, how he managed that would probably be at the top of my list.

Milly finding them like that-a lover's embrace. I would probably go as far as to say that they ended happily ever after. Maybe Knives was right to end it the way he did. There were no marks on his body. There was no aching loneliness for him; no empty house that rang with the memories of happy voices from long ago. Happily ever after. Rem used to tell us fairy tales that ended like that while Knives and I listened intently. I doubt either of us ever really believed any of them, but it was nice to pretend.

I think shooting my brother may have been one of the better things I have done in my life. After his anger was over, he looked at me with what I could only term as grudging respect. We never talked about it before he left, but my example must have left some sort of impression on him. I think now that his death was more a sign of giving up than anything else.

But I don't begrudge him that. This house is nothing more for me now that a shelter against the wind. Meryl isn't here anymore. Either way, I'm alone. The three people I loved most in this life are gone. It isn't fair, but there was never anything I could do.

All gone, just like the cold coffee in my cup. I move over to the sink to rinse it out. The water splashes merrily into the cup, and I'm reminded of a hundred happy nights of watching Meryl doing the dishes at this same counter. Meryl…I miss her so much. I can understand the emptiness that made Knives want to follow his love to the grave.

As hard as I tried to keep her away, the petite gray-eyed woman managed to worm her way through my defenses. Such a sweet, strong girl. No matter how much she aged, or the wrinkles that abounded, I never stopped seeing her for the person she was. I loved her so much, yet watching her age was almost equivalent to the blink of an eye. How quickly the years passed. As a plant, I have incredibly healing and mental abilities, but I couldn't stop her from growing old. I wanted to keep her with me, but before I knew it, she was gone.

We never had any children-as strong as she was, I don't think her tiny body would have been able to sustain a new life, but sometimes I feel just a little bitter that I have nothing and no one to remember her by.

Mental and physical abilities beyond anything an average human could ever dream, and a lifespan to match. Who wouldn't want it? Forget the part about outliving everyone you loved and aimlessly wandering this dust ball of a planet. That was my early thinking. I wandered, looking for Rem's surviving relatives and trying not to get killed.

And then I had a reason to fight; people to fight for and protect. The human descendants of the people who had raised me-I felt a love for those who could make the most of a desolate world. When Milly, Meryl and Wolfwood came into my world, I found love.

They died. All of them, even Knives. My Meryl died of old age in the bed we shared for years. Her small body barely even made a bump buried under the layers of blankets to keep away the nonexistent cold. I remember that long night, huddled with her under the blankets, feeling her body heat leach out no matter how hard I tried to keep her warm. She shuddered constantly for a good part of the night, drifting in and out of consciousness. I still can't be sure if she heard me, but I whispered to her how much I loved her, and in the gray light of the pre-dawn morning, her shudders stopped, along with her heart.

My heart broke that moment. I would have accepted any physical pain that would replace that which I felt inside. As the sunlight flooded our room, the gentle little smile was illuminated on my sweet wife's face for the last time.

And that was it. All my ties to this world were cut. I could become the wanderer again. But I didn't leave. Meryl's grave is near the back of the yard, the growing place of all the flowers I could convince to grow in the parched sand. I can't leave. Even now, some fifty-odd years later, I can't bring myself to leave this tiny place. Physically, I look much the same as I did all those years ago, but my heart has grown old.

The desert sucked all the life out of me, and I can't find myself wanting to live anymore. At this point, I envy Knives, just a little. Suicide…I always disapproved of it. Maybe now, I can admit that I was just afraid. I know I'm still afraid to die, but at the same time, I don't want to live. Who knows how many more centuries I would live before even beginning to show any sign of age? I certainly don't.

Whoever wanted plants to be immortal can take it back. At least Knives was strong enough to know when to let go. As plants, we have stronger control of our bodies, as we were originally designed to mentally control chemical reactions in our bodies to provide energy for humans. Scientists may have had a hard time explaining Knives' death, but I'm pretty sure I know how to explain it.

He just stopped his heart. It's as simple as controlling your breath. All you have to do is focus on each one, and just keep relaxing. I disapprove of suicide most of all, but surely whatever deity that watches over all of us could understand. There's nothing for me here. I have no one to protect, now that Knives is no longer a threat. The humans here will live on, surviving with what they have, as always.

And eventually, the legend of the fearsome Vash the Stampede will fade, and then die in the memories of the people. The old chair I've been sitting in creaks as I stand up. I touch the walls of this old house, trailing my hand on the peeling paint as I walk down the faded hall to the bedroom.

There-the picture of Meryl still sits on the stand at my bedside. It was taken shortly after our fifth year of marriage, and is the perfect icon of our life together. Meryl is grinning directly at the camera slyly as I stand on her right side, nuzzling her neck as my arms are wrapped around her tiny waist. We both look so happy…

I take the picture frame off the stand and hold it close to my heart, wrapping both arms around it for safekeeping. The springs creak as I curl up on my right side. I close my eyes after gazing at the picture one last time. Breathe in, breathe out. Relax, slower and slower.

Sweetheart, I'm coming. I miss you so much. Knives, I expect you to be standing right outside those fictitious pearly gates, grinning and shaking your head at me. Fifty years is a long time to wait. But now, I don't have to wait any longer.

Breathe in, slower and slower.

Out. Relax, heart. It's time for a rest.

Breathe in-