Disclaimer: *bribes someone to give her Trigun?*

Chapter Thirty-Nine: the Typhoon Thinks…

A/N: A short chapter of Vash thinking as he walks along with Rhianne in his arms through the desert.

Lest anyone should suppose that I have led an easy life, with days willed with laughter and the love of my brethren, enjoying my never-ending life to the fullest enjoying it with the humans, the creatures my people are meant to protect, then I should say that my life was never an easy thing, for all the good it did me. I should say that my days were spent in misery and mire and that I wallowed in my own pool of self-pity that it's quite a wonder I never learned to swim. Although I never speak of the hardships I have endured at the hands of my brother, they stay with me always; embedded into me physically by way of the scars that mar the length of my body and the metal plates and strips that hold my innards where they belong. Mentally, the scars are not as visible, yet they sting more so than any of my wounds have ever pained me. 'Tis a terrible thing, to lose the love of your brother for over a century. My brother has killed in my name, and forced me to kill, betraying the vow that I took long ago on the grassy fields of the Seeds ship chamber. Countless have died because of me by his hand, leading me along on strings like a puppeteer leads his dolls; the dolls know what they do until 'tis done. And I find it to be the same with my brother and I; he sets his traps cunningly, and each time I stumble willingly into them, as naïve as a newborn babe in my pacifistic haze. I see nothing wrong with my way, in Rem's way. Certainly, not one single creature in existence deserves to die. Yet he cannot see that, and has made attempts time and time again to disprove my theory. Yet I know in my heart what is true, and find it a terrible shame Knives cannot see the light of Rem's way.

The woman, this chestnut-haired angel that has fallen to our God-forsaken planet, is perhaps the only one who has ever seen my brother at his weakest. I never thought it possible; my brother in love. 'Twas never a thing to be fathomed in my mind, a thought as quickly dismissed as conjured. And yet I find myself proven wrong. The emotions he feels for her have multiplied tenfold since the moment he met her, that much is blatantly obvious. He simply cannot act on those emotions, trying in vain to dismiss his feelings as weakness and manipulation. Perhaps my brother cannot grasp that it isn't Rhianne who manipulates him, but that it is own heart that works against him in ways he cannot control.

I gaze down at her face, lit by the glow of the twin suns, her hair wafts around it like a halo. Truly, she is one of my kind; for we are blessed with the beauty of angels. I can fathom how simple it was for Knives to lose his stony heart to her, with a face such as this and a manner such as hers. Intertwined within her are the ribbons both of confidence and of meekness. She is a strong-willed woman, of that there is no doubt, yet she is afraid of the consequences of her actions; a thing she did while under the dark cloud of mourning for her brother, and thusly feels the need to be protected and shielded from reality. I know of this thing she did, her mind dwelling only of the death of her brother and naught else, as she signed her name on the paper in flowing script. The procedure that will forever change her life and that of those around her. She would have altered the fate of both her planet and it's satellite had she opted to stay on her world. Yet she fled in fear of her actions and the consequences that they would bring crashing down upon her.

She was a brave woman to do what she did. Albeit as foolish as she was brave.

There is a deepening sense of admiration that I feel for this woman that is blossoming inside of me like a flower, growing larger and more colorful and vibrant as she displays the angles and shades of her personality; this woman is a fascinating creature that I know will keep my brother fascinated for the rest of time should he allow her to do so. For there is so much more to her than meets the eye; layers of her personality and soul are pulled back, from her core; like unwrapping a precious gem swathed in scarves of silk and lace, each new layer a beauty to behold and a marvel to the eye.

Yet my brother is precisely what Rhianne is not. Like night to her day or ice to her flame, they are different yet so the same. Perhaps, it occurs to me, that's why they have been drawn together in a fashion such as this; on such a level that they manage to despise and yet adore one another at the same moment. Yet I feel that, despite their many quarrels, they truly love each other. Though their circumstances differ from mine in many ways, their blossoming love reminds me of Meryl and I when we first admitted our feelings for one another. We quarreled and she left at times to clear her head, yet she always returned to me. I consider myself a fortunate man to have received a gift such as her in my life. And I pray that Knives will come to understand his good fortune in receiving a beautiful flower like Rhianne to blossom in his garden of life.

For we are all like flowers, blossoming in our own unique beauty beneath the sun, unfurling our beautiful petals as we grow more colorful and vibrant with life. Yet as we grow, petals begin to wilt and fall as we lose our childish demeanor and fresh petals blossom anew as we mature into the people we hope to become. Every one is unique, no one quite like the other in the colorful array of their personality. We all grow beneath the sun together, growing and dying with each other, and each of us striving to catch the elusive mayfly that is love.