Vash the stampede, although he no longer had his dubious title, was still as much of a peace loving fool as he ever was. He was happy, content to live out the rest of his days here, with them. He leaned his head back on the great red armchair and felt tears roll down his cheeks. He closed his eyes as more hot tears burned trails down his skin. Why now did he cry for him? It had been years since he had passed away, but the memory still burned in his mind, haunted him in his dreams. Maybe there was something I could've done to save him... Vash found himself thinking now, in his house, living his peaceful, quiet life. But Vash had never really had any friends to speak of, even though he had lived so long and seen so many places, people and things. The priest was his first trusted friend, although he had been working with his enemies the entire time. But he showed his friendship in the end, showed how much Vash had changed him, and Vash now was showing the many ways Nicholas D. Wolfwood changed him. But Wolfwood was gone, no matter how clear his voice was in Vash's dreams or how Vash found himself wishing that he could share his wonderful life with his friend. Vash had to convince himself of that yet again.

He sighed and pushed himself with great effort out of that comfortable arm chair. He looked around him, and felt as though he were not in his home. There were two cushy red arm chairs, a big leather couch and a long table in this room. There were pictures on the walls and Vash examined each one. He looked down at his feet, after he observed the only picture of the four of them he had. He walked out of the room, down a long hallway. He stopped at the second door on his left. He opened the door enough so that he could see inside. On the large, plush bed inside laid a woman. Her dark hair was all about her face and pillow and she breathed in and out quietly, her hand twitching now and again. Vash smiled, closed the door, and went across the hall to another door. He looked inside this one too, at another large bed with someone resting upon it. But they were awake and looking out the windows to the town below. Vash stepped quietly inside and closed the door.

A small girl, around nine years of age, turned to face him. She had light brown hair and piercing green eyes. She smiled at Vash and ran into his arms. Vash picked her up and embraced her tightly, as if he were holding pure gold in his arms. He kissed her forehead and sat down on the bed.

"I couldn't sleep dad." She said simply in a voice most like her father's. She looked almost exactly like Vash had when he was younger.

Vash laid back on the bed and cradled his little girl in his arms. He said nothing as he listened to her heart beat against his own.

"Dad, can we go see Knives today?" She asked in a sleepily dazed voice.

Vash nodded, "I'm sure he would like that very much. It's been awhile...." his voice trailed off. He felt her go limp with sleep and he covered Sora up and went back to the hallway.

Memories came flooding back to him, and he walked precariously into his bedroom where the woman was sleeping. He sat down on the bed quietly and felt more tears roll out of his eyes. He remembered Knives, how the two brothers had tried so hard to kill each other. Vash regretted so much his battle with Knives, yet at the same time, he had stopped Knives from killing anyone more and saved his soul. Vash cried silently into his hands, he had brought his brother so close to death with his own hands. He had been unable to save Wolfwood, unable to bring himself to let Rem go until the battle was already fought. He had tried so hard, but it had never been enough it seemed. He remembered July, and then Augusta, both cities had been completely destroyed, and he remembered the hole in the fifth moon, which carried his dead legacy in its orbit around the desert planet. And he remembered Legato, how he had killed him at wits end. He was now sobbing and shaking, forgetting how early in the mourning it was and that someone was sleeping behind him.

A small hand reached out and rested on his shoulder, followed by a warm body pressing against his back. "Vash? Vash, what's wrong?" came the sleepy, yet concerned voice of that dark haired insurance girl, his wife, Meryl Strife.

Vash said nothing but turned to face her and he embraced her tightly. He sobbed for minutes on her small shoulder as she did her best to comfort him. Finally, he lifted his head and stared into her eyes.

"Vash, were you remembering again?" was all she could bring herself to say. Vash nodded and again put his head on her shoulder. "Vash, you've got to let it go. It's all over and you can never go back and change the past. Please Vash, forget those painful scars of memories. Yes, Wolfwood is gone, but he's in a better place now and you know that he's watching over us. And Vash, you're brother is still alive, because you did what was right and saved him."

"I know.... thank you....." Vash said, his voice muffled by her clothes. "I love you Meryl."

"I love you too Vash...."