A Start

Who: Doc and Kurt
Where: around Kurt's house, mostly
When: later afternoon

Really, after a life spent unraveling the secrets of the universe, after seeing a whole world die and taking his place in this one, Doc should've been the sort of man who was blessed with patience in all things. Personal affairs, however, still cut through any professional defenses he'd built over the years. Case in point, the way he sat on his unframed mattress in his room, puffing a cigarette and staring at the buttons of his cell phone. He'd meant to call Kurt a full fifteen minutes earlier, had even punched in the numbers, and for what must've been the tenth time today, yesterday caught up with him in neat columns of Good, Bad, and Messy.

Grayson was on board, that was inarguably good. Jocelyn nearly was, another plus. The night with her? Had been beyond good. But it was also the sole occupant of the Messy column, at least insofar as how it had him thinking. What had it meant to him? Or to her, for that matter? She was a pro, right? And what about Eva? For a man who had, not two days earlier, orchestrated a new crop of fighting in the middle east with a few words, Doc was certainly getting tripped up over what were little details in a big picture. So he needed a distraction, he needed work or at least the people he shared it with. His cigarette was down to the outer edge of his knuckles, removing his last distraction that let him wallow in his thoughts. Thumbing the call button finally, Doc sighed in frustration as he raised his phone up and listened to it connect.

Kurt had been studying the phenomenon of silence since Natalya had made her departure. How big it was, without taking up any discernible space. He'd unplugged all of the appliances and walked slowly around the house, just listening to the rush of non-noise without the electronic hum that so many things had nowadays. He'd never realized how the lack of sound could work it's way into one's brain and set up shop there. Make a home. It had only been a couple of days, but that had been enough to give him the odd feeling he was the only person left in the world. Ridiculous and dreamy, but there it was.

When his phone rang, it gave him a bad start, and he almost didn't recognize the sound at first. Then he was scrambling for it. Maybe it was her, maybe she was coming back. Her leaving had been a mutual decision that he supported -- she was safer away from Marquette, after all -- but his heart still leapt. Kurt found his cell and flipped it open, putting it to his ear. "Hello?" he asked, voice rusty from disuse.

The croaking greeting Doc heard wasn't one that gave him particularly good feelings. Kurt had, aside from considering throwing himself into the lake, been as solid as oak in the time Doc had known him. He was quiet, introspective, but reliable. He'd been a man who didn't waste words, but now he sounded as if he'd been saving every sound he could. "Kurt," Doc greeted with a slight frown on his end, "Everything okay? Hadn't been in touch in a few days, I figured maybe we could get a drink or some fresh air."

That was ... Doc's voice. Yes, Doc. He had a brief, strange moment of unreality as he sat down on the couch and was quiet for a moment. Kurt blinked, cleared his throat, and tried to formulate an answer. "Ah, yes. Everything is fine," he said. Because it was, in a way. No one was in imminent mortal danger, that he knew of. " ... a drink and fresh air would be glorious," he said, misinterpreting the 'or' in there. "I am free whenever you are free."

Chuckling quietly for a moment to try and give a note of levity, Doc sat forward on the edge of his mattress as he studied the man looking back in the mirror propped against his wall next to the record player. "Nothing pressing on my schedule," he said after a moment, scratching lightly at the beard he wore, "Let me get a bottle and my coat, I can be on the road in a few here. Unless you felt like heading out this way, but it's not really walking conditions." Something was off, he could tell. It was hinted at in the even wording Kurt normally spoke with, just barely there between words. Or maybe Doc was projecting his own turmoil, he couldn't say for sure.

"Excellent, I will be here," Kurt said, unnecessarily. Which wasn't like him, but this was the first actual conversation he'd had in days, it was hard to get back into the swing of it. Abrupt as always, he hesitated for a second, pulled the phone away from his head, and hung up. Then just sat there for another full minute before he realized that going out meant he should likely get dressed. He didn't want to greet the god of war in just his blue jeans. Kurt stood to go do that, walking on the balls of his feet in that absolutely-quiet way he'd taken to doing in the past couple of days. There was no one left to startle, after all.

Instead of a bottle, Doc opted to fill the small silver flask he'd gotten literally a decade ago at the wedding of an old partner, screwing the cap on and pocketing it. If they were walking, this was the best way to avoid any incredulous oversight from traffic, after all. He wondered, as he tugged shoelaces tight, just what he was going to say to Kurt. Sure, updates about his new associates were in order, but Doc trusted the large German, he could be a sounding board. And that sort of trust earned more of the same just by existing; if there was trouble or turmoil on Kurt's end, Doc felt obliged to try and help. He's a partner, he mused as he slipped on his coat, crouched low, and whistled for Voltaire. The corgi was due for a walk as much as Doc was, so why not kill two birds in one throw? He chuckled when the dog barreled to him excitable as ever, and once Voltaire was leashed? They both slipped out the door, into the car, and away from Marquette-proper.

The big German was fully clothed and booted and armed when his boss arrived. He was standing at the door, looking through the glass of the storm door and ignoring the cold against his face. He'd attempted to mentally rally himself, and had done somewhat of a good job. He at least felt prepared to give Doc the news that Natalya was gone. As he saw the car pull up, he stepped out of the house, closing and locking the door behind him. He didn't want to spend any more time in there.

Hopping from the car, Doc took the time to pop a cigarette to his lips and light it before braiding the leash in hand and letting Voltaire out. He grinned through his beard at Kurt in wordless greeting, crouching down for a moment to whisper to the dog. Once Voltaire had settled somewhat, Doc started to the foot of the steps with a nod aimed at Kurt. He looked okay, but Doc knew firsthand that anyone could make themselves look fine. Stop projecting, he chided silently, puffing his cigarette. "Good to see you again," he said at last, and sincerely.

"You as well," Kurt said, putting his hand out as he stepped down the stairs and shaking with Doc. He noted the beard but didn't comment about it. He'd had his own experiments with facial hair, after all. He looked down at Voltaire with a faint smile and tucked his hands into his coat pockets. "There is a trail around the lake," he said, nodding in a direction and starting to walk that way without leaving it up to be decided. Doc had said fresh air, the area around his home had plenty of that.

Decisiveness was a trait that was always appreciated, so Doc just nodded and started after Kurt, giving slack to let Voltaire sniff and run around as he pleased. "I'm still kicking," he agreed as they started off, drinking in the wilderness. He'd been here once before, but hadn't really reflected on the place in that time. Kurt was bewildered by much of the modern world, Doc knew, and this place? Well, it was a logical sanctuary from so many aspects of that world. Quiet and serene, blanketed in ankle-deep snow at present, framed in trees with dots of clearings and slips of paths, this was a place where a man could lose himself. Or find himself, maybe. Thinking that was what Kurt had done here with Natalya, Doc smiled faintly to himself as he fished out his cigarettes again, offering them over. "And you? i know you said things were fine on the phone."

He liked walking in snow. There was something cathartic about it, ruining the perfect virginal blanket of it with his big boots. And the crunching sound ... it was good. Better than the silence. He kept his blue eyes forward, mapping out where they were and what was the shortest route. When Kurt said 'trail', that was a very loose term. "Natalya has gone," he said, as though he were just mentioning the weather. Before Doc asked about her, as he knew the man would. "She received an offer to be in ... a show. A very big, popular show. We agreed it would be best for her to go." He couldn't even remember what she'd said it was called, something French.

Doc's eyes snapped sideways to fix on Kurt as he tugged the leash gently to avoid a tangling with trees. Gone? "I'm sorry to hear," he rumbled, switching the cigarettes for the flask. Doc took a quick sip and passed it over with a sigh, seeing now that his concerns weren't imagined. She'd grounded Kurt, centered him in ways nothing else in this strange world could. And even if she was going to return, what would happen in the time she was gone? His worry wasn't a practical one, not focused on the damage it might cause Kurt in their work, but what it might do to someone he counted as a friend. "Eva has as well, for... less auspicious reasons," Doc eventually added, giving a thin smirk of understanding.

That got Kurt glancing over, as he was more willing to focus on the problems of another than his own. "Oh? Are they able to be shared?" he asked, not wanting to pry where he wasn't wanted. That was always a possibility as well. He didn't volunteer anything more about Natalya. That was his and Doc likely didn't want to hear about it anyway. He wasn't a man that was very good at expressing his feelings, and wasn't about to start now. "I am also sorry for your loss."

Doc actually did want to hear what had happened, but he knew this much about Kurt by now. The man was less prone to sharing his thoughts and feelings than Doc, and Doc himself? Well, he was a big believer in respecting the lines that others drew. "She was a thief," he explained bluntly, "A very good one, at that. But not so good that she left no trail behind. The things we've done? Sure, a theft or two is minor by comparison, and I would've helped her hide. I wanted to. Never got the chance, she was out of town before I even knew." Which was all he could really say on it; he'd lost the opportunity to keep her in his life, it wasn't his choice to make.

Kurt nodded, of course not shocked at the news. He had been a highly skilled assassin for the Third Reich, hearing that someone was a talented thief wasn't a huge deal to him. He also understood the sentiment that Doc would've helped her. He believed that, truly. "I am sorry to hear," Kurt said again, glancing over before he looked in front of him again. They were getting closer to the lake, the trees were thick here. He didn't have anything else to volunteer, and so he left it at that, just continuing on their walk. If the man wanted to talk more, he would.

"It's just tiring," Doc went on with an appreciative nod, "You think eventually you've found solid ground, then you sink in." And he missed her. He understood what had happened and why, but still. "You know if you need anything, too..." Doc half-offered, not wanting to make Kurt awkward but needing to make the offer. Still, once it was said, just lingering on it would create the tension all by itself. "I'll need you in town soon," Doc said instead, "I'm having a little meet-and-greet, we've got a few new people who'll be working with us."

Grateful that he didn't linger on the offer of help -- because what could he ask for? Doc couldn't fill his bed on the cold nights, couldn't make the comforting house-sounds that Natalya always seemed to carry with her, couldn't give him something to cradle and protect -- Kurt nodded. "Just name the date and time, I will be there," he assured his boss. He felt exactly the way the man had said, however. Like he'd sunken into his solid ground. They cleared the trees and there was the lake in all of it's giant glory, with it's secrets. He couldn't help but think briefly of when Doc had found him, in much warmer weather, ready to let himself sink in a different way.

Moving with Kurt, Doc paused to appreciate the sight and splendor of the lake. It was a gorgeous contrast, serene and still, but lonely too. If he stayed out here too long, Doc feared Kurt would withdraw more and more within himself. He'd said before that in his old life, he'd been far removed from normal attachments and involvements, so maybe Kurt would grow used to it in time. Doc didn't want that though, he liked the man he'd gotten to see change. "I saw my boss a while back," he said at random, "We took a walk a lot like this, actually, and she told me..." he trailed, frowning as he considered how to best apply what he'd taken from his meeting with Star, "The things we endure, the battles we fight, they seem earth-shattering. You and I fought a legion of vampires, Kurt. We saved lives. But that wasn't our test, because we both know we can fight, it's who we are. The real trial, the real reason you're here? Maybe it's to see if you can rise to living, if you can take something that hurts worse than a bullet. That trial never ends, we're always being judged on it."

Kurt didn't look over at him, staring out at the ocean of lake. Rise to living. He couldn't honestly say that he'd ever done much of that, could he? He'd had a childhood yes, but that seemed to be the extent of it. Some would say that he'd lived; he'd had lovers in the physical sense, he'd been inebriated beyond belief, he'd traveled the world, he'd taken men's lives with his bare hands. But how ofted had he opened up? How much of himself had he given to others? Not a great deal, and he knew that. Was that not what living was truly about? And now the person that he felt he'd opened up to the most was gone from his life for an unknown period of time. There was loss there. Similar to the loss he'd felt when he found out what his life had really been dedicated to. His knowledge of himself was gone again. It was disconcerting. "I will be judged poorly, then," he said quietly, at last.

Doc listened to those sparse words, brow knotting in ire. Kurt's words were unwelcome with everything Doc had already contended with, though he understood them. But they were a herald of dark times ahead, and Doc would be a poor friend to just leave him to this. He reached out to a nearby tree, slipping the leash over a branch and nodding to Voltaire, smiling as the dog settled on a clear patch of dead grass. "Like hell you will," Doc growled, moving on Kurt to turn him at the shoulder. "Kurt, I know this hurts. I know because I've lost as well. But I also know you're stronger on this level than you think, even if it's only where Natalya is concerned. And whatever misgivings you might have? I know I didn't choose you because you could kill, or lie, or any of that. I chose you because at the end of the day, you're going to endure for the right reasons. Maybe it's just so she has someone to come home to when she comes home," he said, stressing that word, "But you've got a survivor's streak painted on your soul, man. You've just lost sight of why it's there."

Kurt listened, his expression mild. He didn't seem to mind being pulled around, or the strength of the man's tone. His eyes were steady and dry, but not flat. There were things going on back there, they just weren't completely visible. He reached up to put a hand lightly on Doc's arm where it was on his shoulder, and gave it a light pat. "I am not concerned with my ability to survive, my friend," he said with a faint smile. "I will endure. I have simply been ... closed. My entire adult life. There is not much living in the career of killing and hiding and killing again. There wasn't for me, at least. My life has not been one to be lived so much as worked through and excelled at." And he wasn't quite sure how else to put it. "I can take what is given, I am just unsure if I know fully why I should."

"That career isn't the one I hired you for," Doc repeated, his ire dwindling as Kurt gave that light smile and patted his hand. There was still a vigor in his tone though, something that said Doc needed to believe his own words as much as he wanted Kurt to. "This town is. These are good people, Kurt. The ones who'll fight, the ones I find, the ones who just get in the wrong situations, they deserve another day. And I can't save them, not directly. It's not my job any more, it's yours. But if you decide to shore up the walls again, I don't know how you'll do. You need to care about the battle." He withdrew his hand, jaw tensing as he watched the other man intently. "Your old life, empty as you say it was? You had fire for it. You loved your country, you loved the lie even if you found out the truth later. If you need to know why you should take what comes your way? It's because you started living here, with her. And what you've had is too damned short a life so far."

Kurt didn't disagree. There were people in this town that were worth saving, fighting for. He knew that. He just knew so precious few of them personally. That had always been how he worked; off of an ideal, dispassionately for the most part. His caring about the battle looked very different than most people when they cared about things. He could see the fire in Doc at that very moment, the drive to do whatever he could. He didn't feel right then that he had that. But perhaps it was just a bad day. "You are likely right," he said, for lack of anything better to say. It wasn't something to argue against, it was something to internalize. To think about. Which was what he would do, as he respected the demon-man's perspective. He squinted out at the water once more, reaching up to scratch at his own beard-scruff. "I look forward to our meeting."

"Promise me something," Doc was quick to say, using those words instead of cursing Kurt for being so greedy with his own. It definitely riled him at times that he'd never learned to just glean the thoughts from others, people like Kurt were frustrating in that sense. "If you lose the basic survival, if you even think you might get back to the night we met?" Which Doc didn't even like to bring up, though he wondered if Kurt would've done it. Some people just didn't want to be saved, and no one could change their mind. He'd buried one, helped raise her children. "Give it one night. One night where you sleep with Big Iron strapped on. Let it show you whatever it has to show you, then do what you will. And before we reach that point?" he went on with a smile, eager to move away from that dire request, "Yeah, we'll all have dinner. You, me, and the two new recruits. I think you'll like them."

He looked over again, though it was brief, his expression solemn. Not that it looked a whole lot different than his normal expression, but still. "That is not a concern that you should have for long," he stated. He wasn't going anywhere, especially by his own hand. Not now. He was committed to something, he had a purpose, even if he wasn't as vocal about it as Doc might've liked. Natalya or no Natalya, he'd given an oath to the man next to him, and he wasn't about to back out of it prematurely. "I promise," he added, because Doc had asked for a promise. his mind might drift in the silent times between action, but he would still be there for them. "It's a shame that Frank had to make such a hasty departure," Kurt said, going with the alternate flow of conversation.

Doc nodded, willing to accept that this wasn't going to be the exception where Kurt suddenly explained himself. He'd never seemed to betray the value of his word or deed, and this was no exception. Or it didn't seem to be. "Frank had personal business to go check on," he explained, giving Kurt the out from more personal details, "I just hope it pays off for him. Vendettas are a bitch like that." Especially when you were tracking a demon. "One of his boys is staying with me now, though. So at least he doesn't need to worry over that. You know, the house is great and all, but if you ever want to be closer to town? I have a spare place I use for a safehouse, you're welcome to use it."

That had been more or less what Frank had told him on the phone, so Kurt wasn't surprised at the lack of details from Doc. He didn't really care to have any, anyway. It wasn't his business. He nodded a bit at Doc's offer, taking a few steps down closer to the water. He wondered in a vague way if the mermaid was still living in it, what a miserable existance that must be. He would miss warmth, he thought. "I appreciate it. I am not quite prepared to leave it, however," he said, aware that Doc would likely know he meant more than just not being packed. It was good to have his options open, however, he knew that.

"Understood," Doc conceded, figuring he'd want to clean the place up anyway, just in case Kurt's mind changed in the near future. Or... or maybe Grayson or Jocelyn would need somewhere to stay, though Jocelyn still had her room at Babylon, which hit a nerve. Had she gone back to 'entertaining'? He forced the thought aside, keeping himself anchored in the moment and smoothing a line from his brow. "We need to get you a vehicle soon, too. With the spirits and everything else? We might need a quick response. And maybe someone else knows more of the paranormal, but you're seasoned. I want a tactical mind heading things up. So... pick a car, we'll find it, we'll get it running."

Kurt looked over at the other man with a very faint smile and an arched eyebrow. "Heading things up?" he echoed in a question. That was the first he'd heard of leading anything. "I agree regarding the vehicle, however. I suppose I do not have to account for a female's tastes any longer, so ... something low and fast that handles well, I suppose." It wasn't like he could spit out a make and model just yet. He'd done only rudimentary looking. He picked up a flat-ish rock and skipped it across the water. Four times before it sank, it wasn't too bad for being rusty.

Smiling and watching the rock jump, Doc shrugged a little in Kurt's direction, crouching down and wiping snow from a rock. "I have rules now, Kurt. What I did when the vampires hit, I won't be doing again. So if a storm comes down, I need to rely on you and the others to hold the line. You know war, war doesn't change. So it's a balance, which I'm a fan of," he said with a grin, slinging his rock and scowling as it plunged in after two jumps, "The others know the strange side of life, you know how to manuever. The lot of you stick together, keep each other alive. We hold each other up. And at the end of the day?" Doc stood back to watch the ripples run across the lake, grabbing his cigarettes. "We all go home or no one goes home," he finished, feeling something strange as he said those words for the first time in years.

The German man grunted his agreement, and said something softly in his mother language that was more or less the same thing. He'd been hearing it from soldiers his entire adult life. This time, he actually believed it. He picked up another rock to throw, getting one or two more skips out of it that time. "I would like to meet them before I can state how well we will work together," he said, though he didn't sound pessimistic about it. He trusted Doc's instincts, and he would be dedicated to the cause no matter what they were like. "But the team is the team, is it not?" He chuckled faintly and knocked some snow off of his boots.

"I'd like it to be," Doc admitted, lighting up and snagging another rock of his own. His eyes narrowed as he felt the edges, stepping forward to snap it into a short clump of skips before it hopped across a long patch of water and sank. "Back when I was your age, which I know isn't a huge gap? Had my own crew. I was just Doc, not War." He gave a bittersweet, nostalgic smile, shaking his head a little before going on. "We were unstoppable, because we stuck together. I've been pulled out of fights by girls who reach your elbow, held down and told to stop crying while they pull a bullet out of me and cut stitching thread with their teeth," he murmured with a chuckle, "People that would watch you like that? They're all you need to make the fight matter. Hell, sometimes I wasn't even sure what we were all doing it for. I was just... having too much fun, being drunk on life. And I don't expect you to find that here, but maybe you'll like having a crew."

Kurt looked out at the water and listened with a faint smile. He supposed it was good to hear, more solidly that he'd had a life before being called to what he'd been called to. "Perhaps," was all he said. He couldn't really comment either way, who knew what the future held? Perhaps they'd all die before they saw much else, perhaps they would fight to the end. Perhaps there would be no end. There was no way of knowing, never had been. But one could hope. Futile as it might be, one could always hope. He glanced over and motioned to Doc's cigarette with a questioning look. He hadn't had one in a day or two, and the other man's chainsmoking was finally getting to him.

If Doc could've intercepted those thoughts, he would've been proud. It was a kinship, for certain. How long had he lived in that view, not caring if the fight ended badly or never ended at all? Hoping only to leave something decent in the wake of his passage? He didn't linger in the reverie, handing over his pack of cigarettes, lighter, and flask in one stacked clump for Kurt. After what they talked about? Even a small drink was a necessary drink. "Something's gotta kill us, hey?" Doc asked as he exhaled a cloud of smoke, "Might as well be these, every other damned thing keeps half-assing me."

That got a chuckle out of the other man, as he partook in the flask first, tossing back a quick, warm swallow. It reminded him that he had nothing liquor-related in the house. He would have to remedy that. Soon, and in great quantity. He was due for some alone time that wasn't so silent. He lit up a cigarette and took a pleased inhale before letting it out again. "Likely to kill me first," he assumed, handing the dual vices back to his boss. He was smiling a touch as he did so. Not that he was in any rush to die, as he'd promised. "As long as I can still run, I'm content to not be perfect."

"Perfection is boring," Doc was quick to agree, nipping from his flask again and sighing. The taste of whiskey flashed memories of drinks from the night before, but only briefly. It'd be weird if he lingered on all of that around Kurt. "Perfect means no vices, which I can't do. It also means you're always right, which I rarely am. Met an angel once, a whole damn world away," Doc said, figuring Kurt would take the expression as a metaphor, "He was as close to perfect as I've ever seen. I had to slug him once." Really, he'd met more than one angel, a thought that had him wondering about Leija and Dylan, but again, that was neither here or now. "And with how little you smoke, it'd take gunpowder in place of the tobacco to actually put you down," he joked, handing the flask back once more.

"An angel," Kurt said ponderously. What would that be like? To meet angels. The world just got continually stranger, every time he turned his head. Better yet, what would it be like to punch an angel? He couldn't even really fathom it. "As long as I keep smoking your cigarettes, I won't have to worry about that, I suppose," he said with a faint smile and another drag. He accepted the flask and took a sip. Then another. It burned all the way down, a familiar feeling that tried to hang on to. The German handed it back and tapped some ashes into the edge of the water to be washed away.

Doc laughed, looking back behind them at the tree line, at Voltaire rolling in a puff of snow on the ground happily. "Not as long as the twins haven't decided to make me quit," he agreed, tilting back a quick drink of his own. It almost felt like old times, the way Doc knew trouble was coming even if he was clueless about its' shape or goals, basking under an open sky in a private moment, sharing a drink like they weren't staring down a profession that only promised a distinct lack of happy endings. Good old days, he thought with a mix of sarcasm and real sentiment, crouching to feel the lake's temperature on one finger. "When the snows really settle, be ready," he cautioned, thinking that whatever trouble came, it would hit when they couldn't leave. That's how he'd play it if the tables were turned, at least.

He seemed to understand just by instinct and training, and Kurt grunted again and nodded. "It will be a vulnerable time," he said, shifting his weight off of his bad leg and dragging in another lung full of smoke. That reason alone made him wonder if the ought to get ready to move into town, take up Doc's offer of another house. Not for his own sake, but he might be too cut off when he was needed. He would give it some thought, though not too much, out of necessity. The weather was likely going to turn sooner rather than later. "We will be as ready as we can possibly be," he assured Doc.

"Why not start today?" Doc asked, glancing up from his crouch by the lake's edge. Sure, the question had a few layers to it, but for once? Doc meant it in the most practical of ways. If the snow hit and Kurt was unprepared, it'd be a nightmare trying to get everything done in the aftermath. "Feel like taking a ride? We could check out a few more of the local cars that are up for sale," he offered, nodding back towards the house and his car beyond it, "Throw the little man in the back, pick up any of the basics you're missing right now. Groceries or anything." Which was really the only thing Doc figured he could do to help Kurt in this time of uncertainty.

It didn't take Kurt long to consider the question. There were things that he needed, and it was a long cold walk to town. "It sounds like a plan to me," he said with a faint chuckle. He finished with his smoke, stubbed it out on the bottom of his boot, and tucked the butt in his coat pocket out of sheer habit. Never leave a trace you could help. It was just how he'd lived for years. Maybe they would get lucky and happen upon a suitable vehicle. "Lead the way," he said to the older man.

Pocketing the flask, Doc stood with the remnants of his cigarette tucked in his lips, looking back and starting over to retrieve Voltaire. "I can't promise that he won't try licking you, but given what we do? There's worse terrors to contend with," he said as he slipped the leash free. This was... well, it was a start. Doc knew Kurt's problems wouldn't be easily fixed, and that he wouldn't be the one to fix them. It was Kurt's burden, as his weariness was his own. All they could do was what he'd said; hold each other up. He started back through the trees with a smile, wondering what tomorrow would be like given both today and the day before. Only one way to find out... one foot in front of the other, every day.