E-Mail: Alyson Terry

  Copyright.  The Walt Disney Corporation, 1990-91.  TaleSpin and all of it's characters are the property of the Walt Disney Company and I'm sure if one of the brilliant creators of the greatest cartoon series of all time were to read this they would curse me and my disillusioned brain for mutating their beloved creation in so abstract a way.  Oh well, artistic interpretation, get over it.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Adieu, life 
Adieu, love, 
Adieu, all the women 
It's all over 
It's for good 
This ghastly war. 
At Craonne 
On the plateau 
We had to lose our hides 
Because we are condemned 
We are the sacrificed.   -Song of Craonne 

Author's Note- *Certain aspects of SOI- Pt. 2 are the property of Dan Green, and are taken from his phenomenal fic, "The Bonds of Earth", the biggest, (apart from the actual historical events that I drew upon for this) inspiration for this fic. All are used with his permission and with my full and utmost gratitude.

September 29, 1916

 Like a warm familiar touch, the soft lights called out to Eric.

 The houses were small, some had walls that were blackened, others had the markings of artillery and shells.....unintentional targets from the apathy of two years of destruction.

 But the town was peaceful, quiet, the dusk that enveloped it speaking of years past, of laughter, joy and memories. It tugged at the young soldier, this small, sacred reminder of a better life, with each lit window telling a different story, contrasting strangely with the darkened panes that were located so close by.

 Dark and empty.

 The racoon blinked but could not take his eyes off of them. How could such a simple thing affect him so deeply? It never used to matter.

 Another reminder, chilling and bleak. All that had transpired, all that had disappeared and what now remained to take it's place.

 Eric rubbed his arms reflexively as the brisk autumn wind gusted dry leaves and dust all around him, spoiling his plaintative mood and more so this magical atmosphere that had held him for one blessed moment.

 Quickly, so quickly.....it was gone.

 Incredible the sadness that plagued the soldier day and night. He fought it ruthlessly, covering it with a blanket of anger and seemingly casual indifference. But it always lay in wait, tormenting him......it wouldn't release him.

 Maybe......he cared and thought too much. He didn't know

 Perhaps his sensitive nature had seen, would continue to experience and it would not forget.

 Try as he might to remain cold and unmoved to the shattering events around him, it remained.

 Eric clutched his leave papers tightly in one hand as another strong breeze billowed around him. Disheartened, the racoon let his gaze fall on the cafe's door.

 His first leave, his first visit to one of the many surrounding villages that had amazingly remained intact with all of the chaos of the past few years.

 He knew what lay inside, but the youthful enthusiasm that was once a standard trait within his persona was absent, leaving only the crushing sadness, Eric's surrender to the dominating emotion and the questioning, drifting sense of hopelessness, theawkward sense that things would remain this way with no reprieve and no rest.

 His to keep when all he had really wanted was something better.

 The door swung open easily. The cafe was nearly empty.

 An owl sat behind what passed as a bar, reading a tattered paper and pushing a rather worn pair of spectacles back into place, a losing battle as the objects seemed bound and determined to disturb his endeavors.

 Eric felt increasingly uneasy, small and out of place. He made his way to the bar slowly.

 The few occupants sitting randomly throughout the room shot the soldier a simultaneous look of hostility and anger. Eric reacted to it in spite of himself. It was confusing to him.

 Why these feelings of mistrust and fear? And why him?

 He wasn't their enemy. He didn't even know them.

 He was........unwelcome. Any sign, any aspect, any reminder of this painful and useless conflict. Unwelcome.

 Eric felt trapped, pushed into a position that he had stupidly entered voluntarily and now seeing no way to escape the farther down he went.

 These people. What did they know? Their discomfort and fleeting moments of anguish and confusion were nothing in comparison to his own. Or to the boys he'd had the misfortune to serve with, the ones he had seen fall.

 He still felt guilty. It created a rift inside of him. He almost felt as if he had.....failed all of them.

 How could he possibly help them when he could no longer help himself?

 The atmosphere was tense, Eric could feel his nerves already stretched far past what was comfortable. They were fast approaching breaking point.

 The hard glint in these individuals' eyes put the soldier on the defensive. The owl slightly averted his gaze as Eric clumsily, noisily clambered onto a bar stool.

 Several snickers behind him brought his awkwardness back full force.

 "What'll it be for this fine representative of our fighting forces?" The owl sneered, his formal words and forceful declaration

causing Eric to fidget.

 _This_ was leave?! This was what was so desired? So coveted?

 Desired by all others perhaps, but certainly not by him. Problem was.....he had nowhere else to go, the barriers between him and the blind apathy in these people's stance stronger and more effective than the barbed wire and shell-marked landscape that he knew so well. That tiny fraction of land he dreaded, yet fought for.

 The racoon studied his hands with the greatest of care. He mumbled something unintelligible as the owl noisily folded his paper, purposely drowning out the soldier's words.

 More snickers, another hard, demeaning stare.

 "What was that? Didn't hear you boy" Eric scowled darkly, understanding the words perfectly although the language was not his own. His eyes turned to dangerous slits, a warning not even he was aware of.

 Silence. The owl took a step back and motioned to the few others, his words still directed towards the racoon.

 "Surprised they let carrion such as you out. Can't stand to even keep them in those mud-pits where they belong." Another slight motion towards Eric. The soldier felt rooted to the spot.

 The others continued to laugh and listen with rapt attention. Eric felt his temper boil over.

 All he had wanted was some small form of release. He faced death on a daily basis and.....for what? For these people?!

 Were they all like this? Everywhere? Would it always be like this?! Didn't anyone care what was happening? It was for them, for their children, for their pathetic excuses for homes and lives, and for everything they had etched out an existence for!

 Facing the gas, the bombardments, the constant shelling, the horrors......night after night. Couldn't they see what him and men like him were doing? What was it all for?!

 The red haze that had completely penetrated the racoon's mind slowly, so slowly, faded away. With a jerk of surprise Eric released the front of the bartender's shirt.

 He swallowed painfully, his throat raw from yelling, screaming question after question. Not a sound could be heard, merely the soldier's own ragged breathing.

 The people in the cramped room looked at Eric in disgust, fear......and the most terrible of all, pity. He could take their hate, never, never would he allow their pity.

 Feeling like a caged animal, the racoon bumped into a few chairs, knocking them over and falling to the floor as he attempted to retreat.

 A loud roar of laughter filled Eric's ears. Frantic, he attempted to pull himself up. He just wanted to leave this place, to leave it all.

 The owl slapped his hand against the smooth surface in front of him loudly, all of his previous apprehension apparently gone as he held his sides.

 So many voices surrounded the young soldier as he bolted for the door. "Go back to the rock you crawled out from under!" "We don't want you here!" "Disturbing our peace......Great War.....where's your Great War now?" "Won't catch me on the front.....I've got medical leave....didn't pass the examination" "Poor, ignorant......"

 On and on, more insults, more callous remarks. Eric's mind whirled as he pushed the door open and charged out into the cold night.

 He only stopped when he reached the farthest house. Placing his hands on his knees the racoon struggled to catch his breath. This wasn't the tearful, noble sense of sacrifice that he'd felt and smirked at, at home.

 These people saw him only as a reminder of this pointless, continuing turmoil and their mocking voices stood as testimony to the harsh indifference and blunt frustration all felt towards this bloody stalemate.

 The feeling of betrayal, of gut-wrenching fury, a seed already planted so deep inside of the soldier began to blossom and grow.

 Someday.....

 Someday he'd see the day when all of these people and everyone like them would have _their_ lives and future controlled by what lay around them....even more so than it did now. Someday none of them would be able to escape from the situations he knew on an hourly basis. Call it premonition. He knew it.

 Eric threw his leave papers on the darkened ground with all of his might before sinking to his knees. He certainly wouldn't be needing those anymore. He couldn't go back, and he felt as though he couldn't face the terror that lay ahead.

 He was trapped and it could only mean one thing, for the survivial of his soul. He retreated back into himself. The price......

 Eric didn't know if he would ever feel safe enough to come back out again.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

April 12, 1945

 The deafeaning roar had gradually subsided to a barely perceptible background noise in the young pilot's ears. Kit knew that he'd hit his head.

 How badly he couldn't say, but if the throbbing, agonizing pain was anything to go by, the words, severe concussion, could be aptly applied.

 The young man's back hurt terribly, he felt as though there were iron bands around his chest, impeding his ability to breath normally, and whenever he was foolish enough to risk the discomfort and attempt it several sharp jabs of pain traveled down his side in succession.

 Cracked ribs probably. The former navigator had no idea where he was now. The overwhelming silence and impenetrable darkness merely added to his confusion.

 It hurt to move, blast it.......it hurt to _think_. Kit's head throbbed as he attempted to move his neck and check out his surroundings.

 The dull ache quickly escalated to blinding pain and Kit gave up his efforts. He didn't even get a chance to fully open his eyes before he returned to unconsciousness, his mind unwittingly replaying the events that had brought him to this place only days before.

 Flashes of memory, that was all. Faces, hollow and despairing.

 Kit's heart had wrenched him as he looked at all of the close to abandoned children in the DP camps. They were the lucky ones. They were also alone, hungry and without any kind of help from the outside. No one was left to care for them or to care about anything regarding their future.

 The former navigator knew how they felt.

 But he did care......and he did choose to reach outside of himself and to lend a hand. Just as someone had done for him.......~

"Repeat, this is Kit Cloudkicker, Louie, that you?"

 The radio crackled in response before a jovial, familiar and certainly welcome voice was transmitted through.

 "Well howdy an' good evenin' to you, Short-stop! Must say I'm a bit glad to be hearin' from ya!"

 Kit smiled slightly, radio in hand. "Baloo's been worried, huh?"

 "Yeah kid, Fuzzy, Rebecca, and o' course there's no exceptin' me. Am I a fool for assumin' that you got a good story for turnin' more of Baloo's hair gray?"

 Kit smirked and waited for it. "Of course, don't take much to do that......." The ape laughed uproariously and Kit let his guard down, finally allowing the tension he'd experienced for the past few hours seep out of his body.

 "Engine trouble, right after I got out of Westcourt. I don't understand it, Eagle's never given me any grief before."

 Silence. The radio crackled to life. "Well, that's the way it goes some days. Plane's yer best friend one minute, then she'll up an' get tempermental, no reason for it. An' no use tryin' to figure out what went wrong neither. Sounds jus' like most of the gals 'ol Louie's met up with!"

 Again, loud chuckling accompanied the bartender's statement. Kit rolled his eyes before grinning once more. So much for Louie's and Baloo's attempts to correctly educate him about the opposite sex.

 Another crackle. "How 'bout you kid? Ya in one piece? Just so's I can prevent 'ol Papa Bear from having a heart attack."

 "Just a few bumps, Eagle's seen better days but I guess Baloo's training came in handy. She sure handled the um....landing well. Good thing the odds are in my favor when it comes to landing on water 'stead of land."

 Another chuckle came through. "I hear that Short-stop, better be guardin' those keys with your life as I'm suspectin' Baloo won't be too eager to let you try this again"

 Kit scowled at that. "Gotta learn somehow....." the former navigator muttered under his breath. The orangutan was frustratingly right.

 "So kiddo, I expectin' that you'll get another signal in just a few. Need a tow? Got any other excuses to hand yer pal afore I pass the word along?"

 "No, already contacted the Coast Guard, getting scarcer and scarcer out here though. And who knew that this blasted storm would last so long! Took me forever just to get any kind of a signal out" deep sigh came through, surprisingly clear. "Lucky you contacted anybody out there kid. An' here's us pullin' our hair out.....shoulda known you could handle whatever was thrown at ya."

 Kit smiled suddenly. "Well I'm okay. Like I said, Eagle's pretty banged up but she really came through in a pinch. And, I um, thanks for......y'know"

 Kit stammered, his hand holding the radio tightly. There was a slight pause.

 "Aw, that's jus' fine kiddo. That's what I'm here for. You take care. Glad to say I'll be seein' ya shortly."

 "Same here Louie, Cloudkicker over and out"

 Kit gently placed the radio back in it's usual position and lightly ran his hand over the panel. He shouldn't have been too upset. He'd been through dozens of crashes, many a great deal worse than this one.

 It had actually been minor, one of the engines had kicked out on him unexpectedly and he had eased her down in a less than inviting sea before the other could cause him some serious problems.

 New plane, he'd had it for awhile, but it could still be classified as such. Both him and Wildcat had barely gotten used to flying, not to mention maintaining her on a regular, almost daily basis.

 But this had been his first crash on a solo flight and despite the calm rationalization of events which the young pilot had no control over, Kit couldn't help kicking himself for what almost could count as a blunder in his otherwise flawless abilities.

 The young pilot began rubbing the top of his head wearily.....he now knew exactly what the consequences would be. He was grateful.....there was no mistaking that, but frustrated. Perhaps more than that.

 With a jerk of surprise Kit realized something and grimaced slightly as he turned his cap to face frontwards. Old habits......afew months since reaching this new level and he still couldn't break them.

 Kit let himself relax, nothing to do now but wait, shouldn't take long for help to arrive.

 Again he let one hand rest on the Eagle's panel. He could now understand Baloo's connection with the Sea Duck. It wasn't just the pilot's history with the plane, it was almost like an extension of one's self.

 The pride that came with his talent, and on the same token, the embarrassment, no, closer to hurt one felt when something happened, or when something went wrong.

 It was a reflection on him, his gifts.

 It was....well, his baby.

 The young man chuckled lightly before placing his hand behind his head and allowing his mind to wander.

 Kit had a strange feeling, almost a premonition. He couldn't explain it.

 Sometime he would have to ask Baloo what his feelings were the first time something like this had happened to him.

 Did he feel this uneasy? Or did he simply have enough confidence to shake it off and tell himself that such things were bound to happen and might happen again?

 With a deep sigh Kit leaned back, trying to let those kind of thoughts go, settling down as the small plane rocked gently with each wave.

 The young pilot leaned his head on one hand and turned his gaze to stare out of the window.

 Far, far off to where the dark storm clouds still thundered menacingly and bright streaks of lightning cut across the sky.

 It seemed so far away now..........it always looked better from farther away.

 Kit shook his head, bringing his attention back to the cockpit as the radio crackled suddenly.

 *Or maybe I just think too much....as usual.*

 With a flash of relief Kit heard another familar voice break the silence.

 "Kit? Sweetie are you all right?"

 Kit smiled broadly. "Sure Miz Cunningham, just a little engine trouble, got the cargo dropped off though..."

 "No cargo's worth taking too big of a risk for, you remember that young man. And I could care less anyway, it better had been the storm that kept us from hearing anything...otherwise..."

 "It was the storm, promise, already radioed in for a tow." Kit hastily replied, still grinning at the sharp tone in the businesslady's voice. It felt....welcome. Kit, unlike Baloo, enjoyed Rebecca's fussing over him. Speaking of that particular individual....

 "Miz Cunningham?" Kit's tone was rather sheepish and he knew it.

 "He's right here. You're sure everything's fine dear?"

 Kit raised an eyebrow. *She must've been really worried.*

 Rebecca rarely used those kind of terms with him anymore. She had always been very perceptive to the former navigator's emotions and had gradually learned to speak to him as an adult.

 But Kit certainly didn't mind it at different times. Like now.

 "Sure Becky, safe an' sound. I-I'm sorry I scared you...."

 "Nonsense! I was just a little concerned, um...here he is Kit"

 The young bear heard the muffled sound of the radio exchanging hands as he himself fiddled with his own, waiting expectantly.

 "Li'l Britches?! What happened? Are you okay? Where are you? Do ya want me to take the Duck an'...."

 "Baloo!" Kit cut the well-meaning, if breathless and anxious interrogation, short.

 He was only worried....it was the first time this had happened to the young pilot on a solo flight.

 Kit slowly and carefully repeated what he'd said several times before.

 "I'm fine, the plane's fine, already radioed for help, I'll be there as soon as possible....please don't worry..."

 Silence.

 "Papa Bear?" Kit knew what was coming.

 "Maybe you tried this a little too early Kit-boy. I think we need to talk about....Hey! Gimme that back!!"

 Again, the former navigator raised an eyebrow as a harsh wave of static grated against his ears.

 More muffled sounds and Baloo's angry, "Who are _you_ to be tellin' me anythin' lady?! Just keep to yerself an'...."

 Another squeal. Kit gritted his teeth to keep from laughing.

 Why did Baloo always end up losing these battles? Especially when he towered over Rebecca.

 The young pilot snickered in spite of himself as more muffled but distinctedly irritated sounds managed to make themselves heard.

 Rebecca's voice, saccarinely sweet, came through once more.

 "Bye honey! We'll talk about this later....."

 A low grumble and a painful sounding yelp followed Rebecca's words.

 "And I do mean _later_"

 Kit grinned widely. Luckily he wouldn't have to face the music for at least a few hours.

 "Thanks Rebecca..." Kit paused, "I'll see ya, a-and I'm fine, promise!"

 Kit had to almost shout to be heard over the din of what was certain to be a battle royale between his boss and his surrogate father.

 "I'm still thinkin' he needs..." Click.

 Kit winced as the connection was cut off in the middle of Baloo's rather vocal protests.

 A few hours. Really didn't know if he could safely pick a side with this argument, or even attempt to try his coveted neutral ground.

 Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Kit heard the radio crackle once more for good measure.

 Resisting the urge to toss it out of the window, the young man cautiously picked up the receiver.

 A loud, almost panicky voice filled the cockpit.

 "Blue Eagle...I have information regarding your request for assistance...."

 *What now?* "This is Kit Cloudkicker, I requested assistance. Is there a problem?"

 Background static was Kit's only reply before the voice came screeching through again.

 Grimacing, Kit adjusted the volume, barely making out what was being said until a few, poignant phrases finally penetrated.

 "Supply ship torpedoed not far from your current position. Alemanian U-boat was spotted as the cause but no pursuit has been formally organized. Delays from rescue efforts to help those who were on board, should take awhile. Was a pretty effective job. All of our efforts are focused on that currently, but we'll get there as soon as possible. Over and ou-"

 "Wait!!" Kit yelled frantically. "A-are there casualties?" The former navigator's knuckles were white.

 Kit didn't even notice the pains that shot through his hand from his death-grip.

 The voice answered back quietly, more subdued. "We don't have a count, this was a nasty one. Just seems to get worse every time. We'll put you on first priority though. Over and out."

 "That's okay...." Kit's voice echoed in the empty cockpit. He suddenly felt drained. There was no escape from it. This war.

 Every time he thought he could forget. The young pilot closed his eyes tightly.

 Ports where he couldn't land, cities still under occupation. Cities, hell...an entire continent.

 All of this happening, every day. Who knew what was going on before the Usland and Anglian divisions could arrange for an invasion?

 Even Cape Suzette wasn't safe.

 Kit rested his head on his hand. He prayed that the stories and rumors that managed to filter through weren't true.

 He'd almost welcome them as fabrications. And he couldn't help anybody it seemed.

 He wasn't wanted by the military. Kit balled his fists....for crying out loud, he was a _pilot_! And they still didn't want him!!

 He'd find a way though. All of the discouragement could only make him work harder.~

Kit gasped suddenly as the memory threatened to swallow him up.

The pain, the darkness, along with his confusion had brought him to a state of near delirium. The faces again. He'd wanted to help them, they needed the food so desperately. And he had tried, but look where he was now! At least he had tried....but there were so many!

 It was like trying to clear a beach of it's sand using only a sieve. Impossible, self-defeating.

 Kit even questioned how he had felt giving those much needed supplies to those people. They had looked at him with something close to worship and it made Kit rather uncomfortable.

 He didn't appreciate the feelings of self-righteousness, but he'd basked in the praise.

 Another memory, almost a condemnation, punishment for his believing that he was above the cruelties of warfare, even with all of his good intentions.

 The sudden explosions, the shreaking and sickening sight of his destroyed engine and twisted metal hull.

 He knew what it was to experience the gut-wrenching terror of having water rush towards him with that kind of unnatural speed.

 Land, unfortunately, was just that much worse.

 He could feel the powerful heat, the pain that had just begun to torment his body and the dull rambling of unfamiliar voices.

 Where he was, how exactly it had happened and how he was now going to get out of this were all questions to be answered at a later time....but all had to be answered sooner or later.

 Kit tossed and turned, trying to get away from the burning heat inside of the cockpit, trying to escape his already well played out nightmare. He felt a gentle hand touch his shoulder, a soft voice spoke to him, almost drowned out by the much harsher voices barking out unintelligble phrases, close by. All managed to penetrate Kit's fever, his mental fog. He couldn't understand the words but he certainly understood the implications of the language. Alemanian.

 Gradually the harsh memory, the terror of being shot down, the horror of the crash, retreated to the back of Kit's mind.....and in the darkness of his sub-conscious, through the long, drawn-out process of healing, only one word seemed adequate enough to stay with the former navigator in sleep and in the long hours trying to wake. Trouble.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Each looked at the other, each expected the other to say something, each looked almost comical with the various guestures and motions each kept making to prompt the others to step forward. But Eric wasn't in any mood to laugh. And Gary, Max and Ron were standing in front of the lieutenant's desk like naughty children about to recieve punishment.

 But none of them were willing to face up to anything. The elderly racoon looked at the trio and drummed his fingers, sooner or later, the constant, repetitive noise or his steely gaze would cause one of them to crack.

 His patience was wearing rather thin.....

 The lieutenant stared at each one of the young men as if he were analyzing them. Which he was.

 Gary and Ron, they both looked like the typical, naive young men who came over here looking for adventure. Eric wasn't interested in them. They would have gone along with Mr. Cloudkicker even if that individual had requested a trip to the moon. Yeah, like that would ever happen.....

 But the other, Max. The racoon looked at him sternly. The dog didn't look away. Eric didn't exactly like the expression on the young man's face.

 It was more than angry, it was very impudent, very upset. It was confrontational, directed towards him.

 "You....." Eric pointed at Gary, who jumped and shifted nervously. The racoon resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

 "Kit didn't say anything to you? About why the hell he decided to pull a trick like this? This would be earnin' him a solid court-martial if he was in the military. But that doesn't mean he's not in a great deal of trouble."

 The cat shifted uncomfortable. Finally, maybe he could extract some answers from the young man's guilt. Still nothing. The lieutenant sighed loudly and loudly slapped the palm of his hand against his desk, causing the jittery young men in his office to nearly go through the roof.

 Still silence.

 "You know what happened.......all of you?"

 Now there was a definite response. All three looked at the floor and nodded slowly.

 "You also know that I could press charges against all of you if you helped Mr. Cloudkicker take those supplies. 'Round here that's called _stealing_"

 Max looked at him furiously, his eyes spitting fire. An uncomfortable feeling settled in the small office.

 "You've got something to say, lad?"

 Ron placed a hand on Max's shoulder who shook it off angrily. "He didn't consider it stealing."

 The racoon folded his hands and placed them in plain view on his desk. He met the dog's gaze straight on. Surprisingly, Max took a step backward, not liking what he saw.

 "Then what did he consider it to be?" The question was soft, and completely unnerving.

 "H-he...he's just a stupid kid. He had all of these crazy ideas about helping people, saving the world. I think he read too many comic books when he was younger....."

 Eric didn't look convinced. He kept his pointed gaze right where it needed to be. "And you knew about this? So.....what should I tell his family?"

 Absolute silence. Max didn't back off from the challenge. The lieutenant finally hit a deep nerve.

 "You can tell them that because of the shoddy way you're runnin' this thing, Kit decided to go off and actually get something useful done, instead of usin' something like this for his own gain.....right Eric?" The dog glared fiercely at the officer, his hands making tight fists.

 Silence again, Gary looked wide-eyed at the racoon. A surge of fury hit Eric.

 But the elderly lieutenant hadn't survived in the situations he had for as long as he had without knowing how to think on his feet, or cover his own tracks. And this smart alec presented a problem to his security.

 "You two" The racoon motioned with one hand to Gary and Ron, who were already almost out of the door, "You are dismissed....pack up your bags, this operation is currently under suspension thanks to your little friend's stunt." The two were gone in a blink of an eye, more than glad for any excuse.

 Max continued to look at the lieutenant with contempt. "You can stay until we find Mr. Cloudkicker, if he's in one piece. If that 's the case, you can stand trial with him, since you're so concerned anyway. If not, you can still assist in tryin' to locate him,whether you like it or not."

 "You can't...."

 "I can and I am. You wanted to go along with this, then you should be followin' it through to the end. Congradulations......the war's almost over, and you still managed to get a piece of what everybody else has had for the past few years. Aren't we the lucky ones?"

 Max took one more step forward, then stopped. This was downright eerie......the coldness in the racoon's eyes, his office, everything about him. The dog hadn't noticed it before, but now......

 It was too empty, it wasn't normal. Too clean, too extreme. It gave the young man the chills. Not an emotion that he necessarily wanted right now, especially in light of his guilt.

 Stupid kid.....he'd warned him.

 Dammit all if he always had to be the one responsible. Max felt something twist.

 Would Kit's dad feel like he himself had when he'd heard what had happened during the invasion of Lorraise? With his younger brother?

 Nobody should have that, not now, not ever. Max slammed the door as he stomped out of Eric's office. If he was lucky, he'd be able to share his assumptions, now pretty well-founded with the lieutenant's reaction, with someone who could do something. But first they needed to know for certain about Kit. War can't get over soon enough.......

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Eric crumbled the condemning piece of paper harshly and threw it across the room.

 Why?

 What was _with_ this boy? Risking his neck like that.....for what?

 If the lieutenant had thought that the young pilot would actually go and do something as stupid as get himself shot down for....whatever it was that he'd been doing, then maybe he would have retreated himself, dropped his own personal operation.

 Now.....it seemed too late.

 He had been requested to contact Kit's family. He'd been putting it off for almost a day, until he could find out exactly what had happened.

 And now, his connections, often skittish, would think nothing of blowing the whistle on the lieutenant to save themselves. The heat was on him, and if they didn't find the kid before too long, who knew what would happen?

 The people he knew, the one's who had convinced him so easily to use his position and to use this operation for future financial security, could simply move on.

 That's what they did, there was always another place, more hungry mouths who would give everything they had for one small piece...

 And they knew where to find them. There was always something, somewhere. Technically, for job security, it couldn't be beat.

 People would be people, and there was always somebody else.

 But his time was seemingly over. There were too many eyes on the situation here for it to be safe or comfortable to continue. And Eric still had to try and explain what had happened to another young man's family.

 God, he hated it. He hadn't wanted the boy to get hurt.....if only he would have been content to walk away....

 Eric didn't understand. What motives did he have? What had he possibly hoped to achieve? Surely nothing could affect someone this deeply?

 Well.....the boy had learned. And it was always the hard way. Another loss, another one to take his place.

 Eric had hoped that the war would end, and that all of this would be dissolved and he could go home in peace without having to face, or to really see, one more time..what it was that was going on out there.

 Never changes.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

April 14, 1945

Rebecca had been concentrating on her hands for quite some time. She didn't trust herself to look anywhere else, not out the window, not at the office and especially not at the individual who kept pacing back and forth in front of her desk.

 One piece of paper, it was incredible how just one piece of paper could bring so many lives to a grinding halt.

 Slowly the woman brought her head up. It had only been a few days since she'd received it in the mail.

 Every moment played itself out excruciatingly. The delivery, with an older rabbit muttering and shuffling through that bag of his.

 What a horrible job. The telegram, always dreaded. His eyes had seemed so sad as he gently pushed the damning piece of paper into Rebecca's trembling fingers.

 He tipped his hat and walked away, shaking his head.....not looking back.

 Rebecca had wanted to do a hundred things at once, or nothing at all. She could do neither, so she willed herself to open it.

 The businesslady had sat for who knew how long, just staring at Kit's graduation photo, at all of their faces.

 She had almost broke down. How foolish had she been to think Kit would be safe over there? Fighting or not....she should have demanded that he stay.

 Baloo...that's it, Baloo should not have let him go. That bear, only thinking of himself.

 Still...she didn't have the courage to open it.

 How stupid could she have been to think when once again she opened her heart, there wouldn't be a risk involved?

 She had forgotten......about the pain.

 Maybe if she'd been lucky enough to have more children....a son, it wouldn't hurt like this.

 Fate works in strange ways and she had been so very lucky, to have had the chance to protect two children, not only her own daughter but a wonderful young man like Kit.

 The paper was shaking violently. So was she but it didn't matter. She couldn't open it yet.

 Yes, Baloo shouldn't have let him go. It was _his_ fault.

 Or....or, they should have never given Kit any encouragement to leave. Maybe then he would have stayed. It was then _their_ fault.

 The telegram opened easily. Not as terrible as Rebecca had expected but still disturbing.

 Instead of a clean, painful wound, there was the worry that the words on that sheet of paper caused her. It guaranteed a slow, drawn-out process that would only heal with complete knowledge.

Missing In Action.

In the blink of an eye she now witnessed what had occurred less than a few hours later. She had read that paper once more in front of Baloo, who gripped the front of her desk until she feared he would leave permanent marks on it's surface.

 His eyes were terrible, the woman vaguely realized that she probably looked no better.

 The bear aged before her eyes when she read the few, stark statements;

Circumstances still unclear, flying in enemy-occupied territory. Whereabouts and reasons, classified. Uncertain knowledge, no word, are now under assumption of.....The volunteer in the Usland Airlift Division missing in action. No former documents or investigation can be brought forward at this time due to the non-military nature of this organization...

Rebecca had tried her best to explain the formal language to the pilot....Kit's father. Basically, no one knew what had happened, still didn't know.

 Baloo had taken the Duck out after, he was gone all night, coming back after Rebecca had made her daily arrival, with an empty tank in the plane and dark circles under his eyes.

 Rebecca felt her own tension threatening to pull her apart. She had been forced to somehow tell Molly, who had cried for hours as her mother had held her, as a result.

 And she had to try and comfort Baloo, who merely sat at the end of the pier, not responding but grateful to the lady. She could sense it.

 On top of that, she had to try and find out exactly who she could talk to, who would know anything.

 She had to be strong. She had to help Baloo, who was after all one of her closest friends, and try to tell him that it would be okay, and not to blame himself.

 It certainly wasn't easy to keep Baloo's feet planted until they could get something solid to go on. When he wasn't lost in himself he was almost impossible to reason with.

 But there wasn't anyone to comfort her when she felt like breaking down, when she was completely disheartened with phone call after phone call of dead ends.

 She was so tired now, as she sat at her desk, letting Baloo pace.

 Her business on hold, her explanations and rationalizations running out.

 Rebecca put her head down on her desk. Baloo stopped his hypnotic pacing and turned suddenly to stare out of the window.

 His voice cut through the silence.

 "When's this guy supposed to call us back?" His voice was low, shaky.

 Rebecca slowly brought her head up and pinched the brow of her nose. "You mean Mr. Baggett?"

 "Yeah...."

 Rebecca looked sharply at the large bear for a moment. "His name's Eric, he was Kit's supervisor"

 Was.....the woman nearly choked on that awful word.

 Baloo turned to meet her gaze. "I kinda have a bone ta pick with him."

 Rebecca stood up to put a hand on the pilot's shoulder. "Baloo...."

 Nothing. The bear lowered his head to stare at the floor.

 "You don't know what happened." She said softly.

 Finally, a response. "_I_ don't know?! Becky...nobody knows!! I wanna talk to this guy, let 'im know just what I think of him. How could this have happened?! For hell's sake this war should be over..an', an' this happens!! Why don't we know anything? I'm tellin' ya if all of this ain't his fault for lettin' Kit fly anywhere near that death trap then I don't know who's ta blame."

 Rebecca had slowly stepped back during the bear's tirade, until she had bumped against the desk sighing deeply. She hadn't exactly spoken to this individual either, but she had been promised that he would contact them, if only just to let them know about the details.

 The how's and why's that continued to torture the pair as they waited here.

 And he _would_ call. Rebecca could and had been very persistent.

 Baloo gripped the window sill tightly for a moment, his eyes far away as he stared out.

 Suddenly, he stomped over to the door noisily, startling Rebecca. "Just lemme know when he calls" he growled before slamming the door with a great deal of energy.

 Rebecca stared at the door for a time, not trusting herself to look elsewhere....especially not at that blasted phone.

 Of course Baloo wasn't in here waiting with her. He had to deal with the crushing grief and his consuming worry his own way. But she could have really used his support, at least his presence with her right now.

 Not that she was able to explain it.

 A flash of resentment, quickly replaced by guilt, on top of everything else made itself clearly felt.

 Rebecca rubbed her eyes as her vision blurred, tears forming suddenly and unexpectedly.

 No....she couldn't give in now, as much as she wanted to.

 She hated it but she had to be strong. She also found that she was much too keyed up for her own good as the phone rang and the businesslady nearly hit the ceiling.

 Almost taking the noisy thing out of it's socket in the wall, Rebecca picked up the reciever.

 A polite, almost distinguished voice with a slight, familiar accent came through.

 "Is this Higher for Hire? I was requested to call....."

 Rebecca cleared her throat before answering, embarrassed as her voice happened to be an octave higher than normal.

 "Is this Mr. Baggett?"

 The reply was affirmative. Rebecca, too tired to care about formalities came right to the point.

 "Kit....yes, I requested any information you might have. You were his supervisor?"

 Silence from the other end. Eric didn't rise to the obvious inquiry.

 Rebecca scowled slightly. She felt.....something.

 "Mrs. ...?"

 "Cunningham, and it's Ms."

 "Ms. Cunningham, you do know that Mr. Cloudkicker wasn't on a designated run when this accident occurred?"

 Rebecca gripped the phone tightly. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice short and snappish.

 She barely noticed when the door swung open and Baloo came tromping back in, stopping to rest his hands on the front of her desk.

 "I mean...well ma'am, we don't send our pilots into enemy airspace, as quickly as that may be shrinking."

 "But....I don't understand" Rebecca felt her composure quickly crumbling, she couldn't meet Baloo's gaze. What exactly was this man saying?

 "Mr. Cloudkicker, to the best of my knowledge, took supplies without permission and flew them to an unassigned area without any kind 'o clearance."

 Rebecca didn't like the man's tone. It was too close to...accusing.

 "Are you saying he took one of your planes and...."

 "No, no, nothin' like that. It was his own. We're certain. We received word that he simply dropped our supplies off at one of the larger DP camps located close by...an' well, to get there you have to fly through some rather nasty territory. He _did_ have his own plane though, the...er.."

 "Blue Eagle" Rebecca shut her eyes tightly. She felt Baloo's large hand on her shoulder, it was amazingly reassuring.

 "Yes, we haven't heard from him though. Merely some unacknowledged reports of a plane with a matchin' description goin' down in that area."

 Rebecca felt sick. And the feeling was quickly reaching it's peak as Eric continued to speak.

 "We've tried trackin' down the supplies he stole, haven't had much luck though..."

 That did it for the woman. This was absolutely crazy.

 "What?!!" Rebecca's temper snapped. She was ready to lash out, especially towards this unsympathetic man who should have called them from the very beginning to reassure them, or should at least have gotten some more information..._something_.

 She should not have had to make the effort to contact him. It shouldn't have been left up to her. What kind of organization.....?

 Before she could stop herself...before she wanted to, she heard her own voice in her ears, shrill and close to hysterical.

 "Why would he do that?! Why?!! I just don't understand, h-he left to....well, why?! He's not stupid, what on earth was he doing in that situation? Why did you allow it?! And why in heaven's name are you rattling on about supplies? What makes you think I'd actually care about that?! Do you think anything can justify what's happened? How can you steal something when it's your _job_ to give it to those..those people over there in the first place?!!"

 Baloo, by this time, had the receiver and Rebecca's hand gently in his own.

 He pried her fingers off of the much-abused phone and firmly sat Rebecca down.

 That lady was shaking with anger.

 Baloo held the receiver tightly. An awkward silence ensued. Finally, Eric cleared his throat.

 "Mr. Cloudkicker could be brought up on charges if he's found, he had been formally dismissed before the accident. I don't know if you had any idea"

 *Dismissed? _If_ he's found? Kit, charges?* Baloo couldn't find his voice for a moment. How could Kit be formally discharged anywhere? He was a hard worker, people liked having him around.

 Someone accusing Kit of anything negative seemed so absurd.

 The large pilot's mind was in a whirl, it didn't make sense, none of this made any sense.

 "Look, this boy, Mr.....um Baggett? He's my son. An' he's always been a good kid. There has to be some kind of misunderstandin'"

 "I'm sorry, I realize this is hard...."

 "No you don't!!" Baloo lost his temper suddenly. "You don't realize a damn thing! There's no way you can know what it's like, always wonderin', feeling sick thinkin' about exactly what could have happened...don't try an' tell me you have any idea..."

 The bear stopped to catch his breath. Rebecca, in spite of herself, watched with something close to eerie fascination.

 "He's _my_ kid, he's...h-he's my life. An' I hold you responsible. Expect to take this up with me as soon as I can get over to your precious little operation. An' believe me, when it's over you'll have a lot more to worry about than your damn supplies."

 The phone fell off of Rebecca's desk as Baloo slammed down the receiver with a vengeance. Silence as both looked at the pieces.

 A memory lifted the heavy mood for one moment. But it didn't allow Rebecca time to think of anything uplifting that she could say to the pilot. They were only words anyway.

 Baloo saved her the trouble. He looked at her suddenly and with a flash of insight, she knew exactly what he was thinking. Disturbing under any other circumstances, she stared back, saying nothing, but she understood.

 The large bear didn't even have to ask...but he did anyway.

 Years had fostered a respectful sort of courtesy within the pilot, especially where his boss was concerned.

 "Rebecca...uh, I really don't know how long...."

 "Go" the woman firmly placed her hands on the taller bear's shoulders and met his gaze one more time.

 "Find him...I don't care if it takes years. Just find him. I trust you, but...keep contacting me, please?"

 Baloo smiled, the first Rebecca had seen for some time.

 "Thanks Beckers, I won't let you down."

 "I know" the businesslady said simply, giving the gray bear a quick, fierce hug before pressing the Sea Duck's keys into one large hand.

 Baloo stepped back but kept his one hand on her shoulder.

 "Just when I think we're gettin' too old fer this"

 Rebecca gave a short laugh and rubbed her cheeks energetically with the back of her hand, those carefully concealed emotions finally showing themselves.

 "Never changes does it? Please be careful..."

 The pilot gave her a one-armed embrace before pulling the brim of his cap forward determinedly and stepping outside.

 Rebecca heard the Duck take off, as she had countless times before. She softly touched one of the photographs on her desk.

 Never changes.

 ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

February 7, 1917

"Incoming!!"

 The piercing yell caused an immediate, unprecedented commotion.

 Eric didn't have the opportunity to see who had given the call. He really didn't care.

 The frantic, scurrying could almost be classified as amusing under different circumstances. Eric felt himself being joustled and pushed harshly against the dirt wall.

 Panicking, pushing and swinging out blindly, the racoon made contact with several other wild-eyed soldiers, moments ago his friends, now mere obstacles in his path.

 All scrambled to get out of the way, a hard task as no one was certain where the attack was coming from, or what new sort of terror was about to come down on their heads.

 Certainly no one knew how to get out of it's way.

 Eric felt the mass of dirty, thin men push him against the crumbling wall of the trench. He was aware of a savage emotion that rose up, hand in hand with his need for self-preservation.

 If he fell, if this mindless mob came down on him, he would surely be trampled.

 Just another casualty of this cramped, debasing existence. He couldn't accept it, to be taken by the enemy was one thing, to be pushed aside, crushed without reason or remorse was thousands of times worse.

 He struck out again and again, pushing, elbowing, but still being moved with the group of disoriented, unnerved soldiers.

 An occasional grunt or yell of pain was Eric's only clue as to his progress.....or damage he was causing, depending. It could have been satisfactory, his only release and relief, escaping from this rabble, however superficially or fleeting his seperation from this place may be.

 Within the yells, the shuffling, the coughing and the curses, Eric suddenly heard a sound that he would never again forget. A low drone, unfamiliar. It was mechanical, certainly, but by God, it was coming from _above_ him!

 *H-How could that be?* Silence. Irrational yet incredible how quickly the unit quieted down. Once voice, alone yet so influential called out again.

 "Incoming! Incoming!! Watch yer heads lads, watch 'em!!"

 *Watch what?*

 A loud thunk nearly made the young soldier jump out of his skin. A large, rusty spike, now with only it's top showing had sunk deep, deep into the ground, mere inches from Eric's foot.

 Mad scrambling resumed once more, but all the racoon could do was stare stupidly at what remained of the simple, metal tool.

 Again, the low drone. Eric looked up.....and he saw it.

 He'd heard of them of course. He hadn't been living under a rock for the past decade or so, and they had certainly been around for longer than that length of time......but by the stars he'd never actually seen one this close.

 A biplane, the Iron Cross, a symbol of where it belonged, menacing and plainly visible on it's side.

 A biplane, it looked so rickety and unsteady.......but it was flying high above them, clearly seen, but amazingly in a world all of it's own.

 Eric, not alone thank goodness in his fascination, stared open-mouthed. It was actually quite.....beautiful. In spite of the danger it posed.

 The young soldier took a step forward, nearly tripping over the head of the embedded spike, significant in what it could have done, but more so from where it came from.

 The shrill yells, a scream of pain that spoke clearly of the contraption's threat, mattered not at all. And Eric knew what he wanted. That freedom, high above the filth, the despair that surrounded him.

 He had to fight, fight hard to keep himself from jumping out of this pit and running until he couldn't run anymore.....until he'd found that thing, experienced it.

 The numbing grief at not being able to escape this place, to touch that horizon and go on and on......leave all of the barriers and boundaries behind with the blue sky, was close to overpowering.

 With all that was in him he wanted it.....

 The plane vanished from view. Never would the young soldier forget his crushing envy and what he desired. Now he had to return to the consequences of that aerial visit.

 He wanted no part in re-building it, it was ghastly anyway.

 He wanted escape.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

April 15, 1945

The pub was smokey, dim and all in all, a rather awkward place for someone who was accustomed to the vividness of a South Pacific bar called Louie's.

 Baloo stepped through the doors, almost missing the tiny sign, the close to invisible steps that led the way to this hole in the wall.

 But it was important that he be here. He needed some instructions, and this was the place to get it.

 How long had it been since he'd been in Lyndon? Not long enough......looked like hell though. Gotta give 'em some credit for holding out though, but not much Pilots, everywhere. Anglian, Usland, you named it. All had the same, standard khaki uniform. Seemingly all were laughing and carrying on in the smoke-filled room, some gathered at the cramped tables, others lounging around at the bar.

 Baloo took his hat off and straightened it self-consciously.

 What were all of these kids doing here? They looked so young, all of them!

 The gray bear scanned the crowd.....he really didn't know why. He didn't know what he expected to see.

 This room filled to the brim with young men, some girls....all so young, but...not quite carefree.

 They all reminded the pilot of someone. Baloo felt a wave of pain overtake him.

 Kit wouldn't be here, in this hazy place. It was only hope the bear was feeling, and it hurt him terribly.

 Still, he scanned the room. There wasn't any sign of a tall, brown bear with an open, good-natured expression....and slight shadow in his eyes, anywhere to be seen.

 Kit wasn't here. Of course he wouldn't be. But still Baloo felt as though he had to sit down.

 Assuming of course he could find a place. The bar was filled to capacity, the overall lightheartedness of a struggle coming to a close taking precedence over the heartache of the rubble that lay all around them.

 Baloo had no part in this jovial atmosphere. For most, the pain and confusion of the past few years were ending, opening the way for something that all hoped would be much better.

 But for him the struggle was just beginning. And he was frustrated. He didn't know how on earth he would find the former navigator. He...Baloo shut his eyes tightly against the thought that still managed to torment him, had tormented him since Rebecca had read that ghastly telegram.

 He didn't know if there would be anything to find. But he wouldn't give up until he knew for certain and he wouldn't rest one day until Kit was back here, safe and sound.

 Here, in this place, where he should be. But Baloo never understood why life had to do this to people like Kit, why couldn't it be someone.....anybody who didn't give a hang about other people? Someone who had caused others to suffer. Not someone like Kit.

 Baloo gingerly made his way to the far wall, close to the telephone. It seemed like the best place to be, wasn't as crowded as the rest of the joint, and anyone who came through the door could probably spot him better.

 And that was what he was counting on, why he was here, actually.

 Rebecca, ever resourceful, had managed to get a hold of one of Kit's former crew members.

 The pilot didn't know the name, but he was supposed to meet him here. Rebecca had sounded a little more cheerful, maybe this kid had some good news. Anyway, the young pilot knew what to look for.

 The large bear leaned against the dark wall, staring straight ahead, occasionally letting his eyes rest on one or two individuals laughing and carrying on in the pub.

 He felt ancient. He also felt like these kids were from another world, even though they were fighting the same war.

 No.....it wasn't his war. Or, maybe now it was, even with all of his efforts to keep it as far away as possible. It could never be personal with him.

 Such thoughts couldn't help his cynicism either.

 So what if the war ended tomorrow? So what if they won or lost? Nothing could ever return any of them to the way things had been before any of it.

 Even with the joy and excitement, that one frenzied moment when it seemed like a world had been born all over again, and that something as dark and terrifying as war could never exist again. It was so fleeting. Now, before....always.

 It was like a bright flame of a candle. Beautiful when it was lit, but so fragile....and one light didn't make much different against the winds that came after.

 It didn't take away the loss, or the loneliness of the years to come. And it didn't justify all that had happened.

 Baloo had never even believed anyone when they had said after that first time it, would never happen like this again.

 No......it was worse the second time around. Even with the rebuilding, there was no guarantee.

 And no one in this dark, smoke-filled room could ever go back down the path.

 Pick up the pieces, tear them down again. It was almost to be expected, but it never seemed to get any easier for the ones involved.

 "A-Are you Mr. Baloo?"

 The pilot let his gaze rest on a young man in civilian clothes standing in front of him, looking rather uneasy and prepared to bolt at the slightest disturbance.

 "Yeah...that's me. Just Baloo by the way. You're the kid who knew Kit?"

 Baloo came right to the point. Poor kid looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

 Baloo felt his confusion, sharp and strong rear up once again. Why did he look so ill-at-ease? And so doggone guilty?

 This kid shouldn't have had a reason to feel that way, and there was no denying that he did. It showed plainly as anything on his face.

 "I-I'm Gary. I t-talked to a Ms. C-Cunningham and...."

 "Yeah, that's Rebecca, my boss. She told ya what I needed?"

 "Oh! S-sure she did. Um.....here......" Quickly, though not quickly enough to stop the persistent shaking in his hands, Gary handed over a neatly folded, small piece of paper.

 "It's n-not hard to f-find" Baloo took it from him and slipped into one of his pockets. An uneasy silence, noticeable even in the din that surrounded them settled between the two.

 Baloo had absolutely nothing to say to this kid.

 From the look of things, he was probably heading home. And Kit wasn't. It wasn't fair, and the gray bear didn't feel like saying anything more, end of story.

 The cat remained standing in front of him, twisting his hands. The bear waited for a moment, then sighed and held out a hand to let the young pilot speak.

 "Uh......you know w-who to t-talk to?" The cat's stuttering seemed to almost be getting worse. Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead, Baloo could see them even in the poorly-lit room they were in.

 "Eric, somethin' er other. I'll find 'im."

 "I j-just wanted t-to help in s-some way. I f-feel kinda responsible....."

 "Why?" Baloo cut him off shortly. He didn't want to hear how sorry the young man was, he didn't want any excuses. He just wanted to call Rebecca and get out of here.

 "Well......" Gary slowly met Baloo's hard stare. "I d-didn't want to.....but I sorta helped h-him get some supplies. We tried to t-tell him not to go, but he wanted to s-so bad. I'm sorry, r-really. I...uh...he was dropping them off when....."

 "I know" Gary didn't have any idea of how much the pilot knew. How many times had he himself caved under Kit's persuasion? It was so hard to argue with that kid sometimes.

 Turning, the gray bear picked up the phone. He stared at it in his hand for a moment. Somehow.......he just didn't have the energy to call Rebecca right now. In a few minutes, but not now.

 Gary was still standing there, watching the large pilot with undisguised sympathy. At least that nervous, jittery look was gone.

 "Sir......?"

 Baloo turned around at that unfamiliar title. Few people he knew used it with him.......Kit had, on occasion.

 "I just wanted to say, that.......we all respected you a great deal. Kit told us about your flying, h-he just went on and on about it. We all admired what you've done."

 Baloo swallowed hard, the hard lump in his throat tormenting him.

 Forgetting that he was supposed to be jumpy and nervous, even forgetting the stuttering and stammering that usually accompanied Gary's explanations about anything he was uncomfortable with, the young man continued speaking.

 "He.......he wanted you to be proud of him."

 Baloo put a hand over his eyes, his composure crumbling to pieces. He couldn't even bring himself to look up and thank the cat as Gary walked out, embarrased, still feeling a bit guilty.

 The phone was still in the bear's hand, but the pilot just didn't want to use it right now.

 Unconsciously slamming it down, the bear began to head out of the dark room, feeling claustrophobic, oblivious to the stares and raised eyebrows as he forcibly parted the crowd.

 Out the door, out in the street, past the bombed out buildings, the people waiting in the ever-present lines. Waiting to find someway to rebuild what they had lost, they would wait a long time, but not as long as he would.

 Past all of the rubble and debris. He wanted to see something familiar, not this place that belonged to another time.

 Only the Duck, the sky and the freedom that was there, no matter how hollow, was what mattered right now. Escape.

 ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

June 22, 1918

 The young soldier's knuckles were white as Eric clung to the sides of the bi-plane. The wretched thing looked as though it couldn't lift a feather.....incredible.

 Eric looked at the wings, barely visible against the blinding glare of the summer sun.

 He felt self-conscious in his tattered uniform, his clothing that marked him as being part of the ground troops. The young men all around the small hangar, with it's amazing array of planes, all had their own kind of style, with their goggles and other strange aparallel that was unfamiliar to Eric, and still unfamiliar to most others.

 He had tried to dislike them, with their smug looks of superiority, as they stared at him as though they were already hundreds of feet above him, and he was just a bug crawling along it's miserable way until someone was kind enough to put it out of it's misery.

 They were a different breed, these pilots. Eric had watched them for awhile, still feeling in awe at times. It wasn't difficult.

 He knew now, after two year's experience, how to slip away from the mass of filthy, exhausted troops that went about the daily pretense of living as though it were an act or a scene in a play that simply would not come to an end for them.

 The racoon had no desire to be there, with the bitterness and the memories.......

 He wanted to be a part this strangely knit group of individuals.

 He wanted to share in their arrogance, their knowledge. He wanted their freedom, to be a part of it all, those marvelously-woven and hardly believable tales of close calls, and dogfights with the enemies.

 Even specific names were whispered, reveried.....The Red Baron. The very sound caused shivers of excitement to come over the young man, who still believed that such emotions were dead in him.

 But he had watched and begged, until he had no pride left in him, to get a ride in one of those terrifying contraptions, to once.....just once, touch those clouds and be free.....

 He couldn't explain it, but finally, finally, an older gentleman, almost something from a forgotten era placed voluntarily, if not a little awkwardly, in this time of inventiveness by necessity, had offered him a ride.

 His plane, a leaky, squeaky, rattling old piece, was his pride and joy. The pilot was even considered a pioneer, in spite of the condition of his aircraft. He'd known the two who had managed to start it all.

Perhaps the only reason he'd offered to take Eric along was that the two shared a similar disgust in the overwhelming ugliness of this war. Eric hoped it wouldn't always be so......

 The black dog, the pilot of this rusty piece of junk, looked half his age and rather like.....well, a dandy with that scarf and aviator's apparallel. He climbed into the open cockpit behind Eric and started the engines, grinning widely, offering no instructions and worse......no precautions.

 Eric gasped as the plane began to move about as smooth as broken glass on sandpaper, but they _were_ moving......and gaining speed.

 The racoon, momentarily panicked, looked back to see the dog still grinning, and giving him a thumbs up signal.

 The racoon shook his head, he'd never understand those Uslanders even if they had been in the war for nearly a year now.

 They were too damn cocky at times......especially this one. Eric pulled his lap belt a little tighter and shut his eyes tight as the bucket of bolts gained more speed, then incredibly enough......began gaining altitude.

 The soldier felt his nerves reach near breaking point as he gripped the sides, trying to ignore the unnaturally loud buzzing of the engines and the pilot's rather tactless laughter.

 As soon as Eric opened his eyes he'd just have to give that so and so a piece of his mind.

 Carefully......oh so carefully, he opened them to slits, then wider, seeing a vast, endless backdrop of blue sky, and not much else.

 Maybe he'd give it to him after they were safely landed, yes, that would be better. Craning his neck mere millimeters, Eric peeked over the side.

 In a moment of fascination, he forgot his fear and persistent chastising about if men were meant to fly, etc., etc.

 The devastation was truly awe-inspiring, as was the lines and lines of trenches, some filled with men, others not.....

 They seemed so small and insignificant down there. Eric scowled for a moment. That, at least, was one thing that did not change whether below or inside one of these death-traps.

 But......nothing could prepare the eye for the landscape that existed down there. A vast expanse of bombed out buildings, tree stumps, blackened earth that had been turned over and over on itself by the searing heat of shells and four years of massive destruction.

 The bleakness of it, especially form this angle, created a sense of detachment mixed oddly with the thrill of being above it all.

 It was horribly beautiful from up here.....down there, it was simply horrible.

 A loud, mumbled mixture of words and laughter came from behind him. Slowly turning his neck, Eric stared at the pilot and motioned to one of his ears, indicating his lack of understanding.

 "I said.....awful, ain't it?!!" Eric heard that.

 Straining his vocal chords to their utmost capacity, the racoon yelled back. "Get used to it.....seen it already....." the short phrases, a fact of life to Eric, took the relaxed smile off of his companion's face.

 Eric shook his head. What exactly did they think they were going to see here? A couple of scuff marks and that was the end of it?

 The young soldier turned again, almost in irritation, at the sound of the pilot's voice, so strange in this vast but achingly perfect emptiness.

 "Why did I what?!" Eric yelled, his voice becoming harsh with the strain of carrying on a conversation up here. He barely made out the words before answering with strained effort.

 "Jus' wanted ta see what it was like."

 The pilot motioned with one hand at the blue expanse surrounding them. Eric found himself rising to the question though he himself really didn't know the specific how's and why's.

 "It's.......like it's better'n what's down there. Easier to forget......" The pilot nodded once to show that he'd heard, then pointed westward.

 Eric, confused, shook his head, trying to make out the words before they were lost to the elements around him.

 "My sense o' what?! No.....oh no, no....jus' wanted a ride an'.....NO, left it back on the ground wit' my stomach an' my good common sense."

 Eric was babbling, knowing full-well that the pilot could probably make out only the basics of what he was saying. The racoon heard a word that he'd heard before as he finally looked over to see two approaching shapes, dark silohouettes against the flawless azure color.

 *Dogfight?! Is he daft?!!* Eric, beyond caring for any kind of salvaging of his ego or reputation, shook his head with renewed vigor.

 "No!! Really, let's don't then say we did........"

 Another grin, Eric smiled back weakly before turning around, slouching down as low as he could and clinging to the sides of the plane like a drowning man clings to the last lifeboat.

 He'd faced worse situations than this many times and come through. He just hoped that everything he'd speculated on it not really hurting when one finally hit the ground, was true.

 After all, the terror was only an emotion......it couldn't kill you. Better to be afraid of what caused you to lose your head and what caused your wits to scatter.

 Eric was soon aware of a faint sense of dizziness as the pilot flipped the plane with remarkable ease. It was like a dance......a dangerous one to be sure, but it took skill and bravery.

 Eric opened his eyes at the sound of extra engines. He saw very little of what happened next.

 He was aware of the fluid motions, the near hits, even of having the odd desire to reach out and touch one of the enemy's planes, with how close it came to their positon at times.

 Occasionally, gunfire was heard, but it was still very infrequent. More like a competition of talent and skill. A duel in the sky or a face-off of manuervering.

 It was......art in motion.

 As the other two planes left, Eric encountered a feeling of confusion amidst the whirl of everything else. No hostility, no fatalities, only the enduring respect for artists who knew their craft, regardless of which side they fought on.

 It was less of a fight, than of a display.

 Eric had to remind himself to continue breathing. He didn't look back, he didn't trust himself to.

 Nor was he expecting the hollow pain that made itself felt as they touched the ground once more. He was a shell of what he had once been, here, on the ground.

 There was none of the vision, the hope for the future that was up there. A small part of the young soldier realized how ridiculoushe must look, sitting there, frozen, unwilling to step out.

 Sooner or later, they'd have to pry him out, but for now....he though that perhaps he could take on a few of them at a time, as long as it wasn't more than that that tried to seperate him from what he'd just experienced.

 Surprisingly, the pilot....what was his name? Henry...something or other, was looking at him patiently, with an expression of complete understanding on his face.

 As soon as Eric met the older pilot's far-seeing gaze, he smiled broadly, finding a small, at times, insignificant but always present part of himself in this feeling, something that had not been buried with the horrors and the self-preservation.

 Henry smiled broadly and for Eric, that elite circle that he'd yet to understand, opened. He was in, and hooked for life.

 With the greatest of reluctance, the racoon obeyed the casual motion from the pilot and stepped out. Before he realized it, he was shaking the dog's hand with a great deal of energy.

 The dog clapped Eric on the shoulder before stepping back.

 "So....that's the end of it?"

 "What?" the young soldier stared at Henry, confused.

 "One time, that was the agreement, right?"

 Eric felt a sadness he had not thought he was capable of feeling, well up.

 "Yeah...." he suddenly became fascinated with his shoes. "I was goin' to try an' learn....the basics, after the war, but......" Erictrailed off at the bear's expression.

 "You think they can teach you the stunts that we just did in some school? Any school?!"

 Eric shook his head, the faintest glimmer of an emotion he longer associated himself with showing slightly.....hope.

 "These things have gotta be taught with a one-on-one basis, boy! That's how I came to know 'em, sort of an apprenticeshipyou could say."

 Eric looked up again, feeling a grin tug at the corners of his mouth.

 "I did what I did out there for a reason, kid!! You gotta have the _passion_. That's what it's all about. If you don't have it, then it's just you in a plane an' it don't mean a damned thing! Love of what's out there, different for everybody, that's what it is. An' I knew I was right when I detected it in you, my boy."

 Eric glanced at the plane, then shifted his eyes back to Henry who folded his arms expectantly.

 "So....." The dog waited for it, sensing the question, but also not understanding the young soldier's coldness at times. "Can you teach me how to .....do the things you did out there? With the...." The racoon really didn't know any of the terms used, he merely motioned rather awkwardly with his hands.

 Henry nodded once, still saying nothing.

 Eric, embarrassed, continued, trying to change the subject, though not completely. "An'.....you got any stories to tell me right off. Like wit' this war, anybody.....out of the ordinary who pulls, um...stunts like that?"

 Henry threw back his head laughing, before walking back to the hangar with the young soldier.

 "Kid, ever hear of a pilot by the name of Rick Skye?"

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

April 17, 1945

 Baloo had had some serious reservations about leaving his precious Sea Duck, despite all of the reassurances that it would be fine.

 He felt lost here, no one seemed to know where to find this Mr. Baggett that he needed to contact so desperately, despite all of Gary's well-meaning instructions and Rebecca's unforunately infrequent encouragment as he continued to make contact with her.

 Baloo still didn't know what it was he wanted to hear exactly, but it wouldn't be the right thing until it was Kit who said it. Here, he was less sure of himself that he had been back at Higher for Hire.

 Usland Airlift Division, or what was left of it.

 Rebecca had told him in that strained voice that always worried him, although he didn't know how to communicate it, that it was being dismantled.

 Baloo found himself disliking Kit's former supervisor intensely, though the boy had always spoken well of him in his letters.

 A stab of pain coursed through the large bear, who almost cursed at the frequency such inconsequential things managed to hurt him.

 They had gotten a letter the day after Baloo had left. It had been a very hard thing for him to imagine Rebecca sitting at her desk, reading, with that brave facade that somehow managed to cave when it came to the things she cared the most deeply for.

 She shouldn't have had to face that, and he should not be here looking for more heartache. But the pilot had seldom questioned his luck in life, good or back. It might make it seem less extraordinary.

 Grabbing his cap off of his head, Baloo wandered around the sheds that appeared locked for the duration of the war.

 Matter of weeks, that's all, then.....who knew?

 There was dust kicked up from the scurry of activity, but Baloo felt out of touch with it all. Not even the familiar sound of an engine flying high above him could snap him out of it.

 He stared at the instructions clenched in one hand, then at the confusing array of numbers, arrows and the like. He had to concentrate.

 Pushing forward, not sitting here feeling down, that 's what it would take to help Kit.

 A smaller building, a garage, empty for now, several corridors, then....an office. Baloo scowled harshly at the name on the door, forming just the right words before viciously twisting the doorknob and throwing the door open.

 "All right, like I said before, I want some......." Baloo stopped mid-sentence and stared for a moment.

 A young, dark-brown dog stared back, pale from having been scared to death from the unexpected intrusion.

 *Well.....er, ain't as old as I would've thought* "Mr. Baggett? Eric Baggett?!" Baloo, surprised out of his anger, raised an eyebrow and even offered a hand which the dog didn't take.

 The two stared at each other for another minute, an odd connection....like the bear was supposed to know something about this kid, impressed itself on Baloo, but he instinctively knew somehow that the boy was not who he had spoken to before.

"You're Baloo?" the insolent tone and immediate lack of formalities grated against Baloo, even though the strange feeling of familiarity persisted.

 "Yeah, who're you?" he matched the kid's tone.

 Max opened a drawer and pulled out several pieces of paper. "I'm Max, Kit's friend. I've been assigned to help ya find him, though I don't think he deserves to be found at this point....." "Think you'll need these" he added quickly, seeing the dangerous glint in the large bear's eyes.

 "One.....um....is from Kit. It's for your eyes only" The office was suddenly tense and quiet. Baloo took the note and placed it in one of his pockets. When the time was right and he knew he really needed it, then he would read it.

 He couldn't now.

 "An' this one is from the management boys who ran this thing. Jus' says stuff like formal apologies, accepts no responsbility, yada, yada. Useless, y'know?" Again, that odd connection.

 Baloo almost found himself liking this abrasive kid. Strange.

 "Also says our good friend Mr. Baggett is in charge of the _extensive_ efforts being made to find Mr. Cloudkicker." Baloo looked at Max sharply, puzzled at the dog's tone of voice.

 "You sound as though you an' yer supervisor ain't exactly on friendly terms" the large bear rested his hands on the front of the desk, a habitual motion for him.

 "I think he's a guilty bastard an' probably caused or at least had a hand in all of this. There.....that what you needed to know?"

 Baloo blinked but thought quickly, finally seeing a window. "Why? Um....jus' curious as to why you'd think that?" With difficulty, he added, "Kit didn't seem ta have a problem with him......"

 Max looked him in the eye. "He's probably the reason Kit went off an' did this crazy thing. He could've tried to avoid it."

 It was to the gray bear's credit that he had held his temper and self-control for this long, he needed information more than outbursts right now. It was vital.

 "You're not makin' sense." The pilot said slowly as Max averted his gaze for a moment.

 "Look......um..."

 "Max" the dog growled, still not looking at him.

 "Right, anyway. Kit's my son.....ya knew that right?"

 No response.

 "I need to know what happened, fer my own sanity if not fer anything else." Again, nothing.

 Slamming his fist against the desk angrily, Baloo yanked the door open again and snarled. "Where's this Eric? Get some answers outta him even if I gotta......"

 "Kit couldn't figure out why we kept makin' the same drops to the same places when there were so many people out there who coulda used the stuff we were deliverin'. Damn near fanatical about it, in the end. Eric wouldn't tell him nothin', none of us knew nothin', so he got all fired up an' decided to just make an unscheduled run. Through enemy air-space, nice pleasant flight....stupid kid."

 Max pointedly ignored the look of fury Baloo shot hiim.

 "You know what the rest of us know, an there ain't much else."

 Baloo looked down before asking wearily. "He didn't say anyting more specific?"

 "About what? I mean, he was the only one who _wasn't_ expectin' that he'd get shot down and.......look what happened." Max trailed off when he saw the expression on Baloo's face.

 "So......you all weren't expectin' him to come back, but you let him go."

 Max visibly squirmed, his guilt returning with a vengeance.

 "H-he wouldn't listen! I tried warnin' him, but he just wouldn't listen!! An' I didn't understand his reasoning, anyway....." "Hey, if you want specifics, we got the location where he was shot down, the camp he visited before everything. Gonna need it come time to find clues from the inside, so better take a look at 'em, seein' as how you're as stubborn as he is about doin' what ya want."

 Baloo finally smiled a bit.

 Kit's altruism, the sheer frustration of trying to make him see that putting himself in danger was not something that people who cared about him would support, no matter how many people he tried to help.

 *So.....not just me, thanks be praised*

 "We even recovered and re-assembled his plane"

 Baloo's head shot up at that. "What?!!"

 Max froze at the intensity of the bear's gaze, though he remembered others like it......a little under a year ago.

 "Where......?"

 The dog didn't say anything else, just stepped around Baloo with exaggerated care and opened the door, casually motioning with his hand as the pilot followed, clutching his newly-recieved papers like the life-line they were, and willing himself to do this, if this is what it took to find his former navigator.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

It truly was a beautiful plane.

 *Funny name, though. Wonder where he got it in his head to call it that*

 Eric ran his hand across the newly polished hull, as Kit had done in what now seemed like years ago. It gleamed with the mechanic's efforts, one would never have known what it had been through.

 Eric sighed suddenly. *Wish the same thing could be said for it's owner*

 After the announcement on Kit went out, one of many, they had managed to find the plane and with it, the probable reasons as to where the shells had done their worst.

 Hadn't taken long to repair it, but the official announcement had to go out, even if it had not been Eric who had had to write it and thank God it had not been him who had had to see their faces.....even if he had pictured them torturously.

 But it was only fleeting and merely a resulting emotion from his roller coaster ride of the past few days. He should have been grateful that there was no inspection, even if now there was not much of anything else.

 The lieutenant, still formally, though the title had never really meant anything, caught a glimpse of himself on the plane's shining hull. It appeared distorted and mocking, the racoon couldn't look at it for very long, it reminded him of what he now had to do, what he had not been able to do before and what he was now expected to find.

 Eric took a step back, letting his eyes rest on the whole of the repaired plane. It couldn't be _that_ bad

 The racoon shook his head..

 It was his fault and he would now pay for his mistakes. Everyone did sooner or later.....

 The harsh, almost cruel thought pushed the weaker emotions away and Eric observed the clean plane, the organized hangar with sudden satisfaction.

 In control, although his world was growing much narrower. He didn't care. Let them accuse, let his family feel and share in what everyone else did.....

 He had to pause there, rebuild something small that had given in and continue.

 Honey of a plane.

 He'd been the first to admit that the lad had possessed remarkable skill as well. He'd been the best Eric had seen for a long time, truth be told, and the lieutenant had seen his fair share of barnstormers.

 A flash of weakness in the form of regret made it's presence known. Maybe he should have sat Kit down and talked about the neutral things, such as the great ones he had known in his lifetime, the adventures that he realized would never reach any blank page......gone so soon.

 Forgotten in this time of change and transition. The old skills, the drama, the sophistication and elegance.....all gone in a world moving too quickly to realize just what it had lost.

 But Eric knew, somehow, that that boy would've understood. For all of his youth, he belonged to that era.....and now the racoon felt that it was too late.

  The only conversation they had had about flying techniques and the like had been brief but......lasting somehow. Everything else had been business as usual.

 Flying had always been the one passion for which Eric had never felt any boundaries, the freedom was something he would have liked to convey to someone who may have understood.

 And now, staring at the symbol of what it all had meant, Eric knew that even that was gone. Another chance, lost.

 A squeaking and a shaft of light on the opposite wall of the hangar indicated that Max was probably here.....with, Kit's father?

 Eric, despite his constant protests otherwise, had no desire to turn around. He'd seen enough accusation to last two lifetimes.

 "Sir" the racoon gritted his teeth every time Max spat out that word, completely derisive in it's formality.

 "Yes" still Eric didn't turn around, though he heard a pair of heavier footsteps accompanying Max's.

 "I-It's Ki-"

 "Baloo" a deeper, yet surprisingly clear voice echoed in the hollow building.

 Eric turned his head to see a large, gray bear in a casual flight shirt and the trademark cap of a........pilot?

 Kit's dad was a pilot? Made sense, made a great deal of sense actually.

 Eric stepped back in spite of himself. He didn't consider himself to be short by any means, but this man towered over him.

 The bear.....Baloo, had an expression of bleak sadness on his face as he reached over and placed a hand on the boy's plane.

 Absolute silence ensued as Eric stared, then finally spoke up, clearing his throat.

 "I'm assumin' that Max here......ah, tol' you the situation."

 Eric ignored the dog's scowl as he waited for a reply. Nothing.

 The lieutenant could see the pilot's reflection, also distorted. He finally turned around to stare at Eric for the first time.

 Again, an odd connection that didn't fade out, ten times stronger than before. It was if........he _knew_ this guy somehow, though he'd never met him before and the coldness in the racoon's eyes put him on edge.

 "How'd they get his plane back?" the pilot asked quietly.

 "They sent out a report about an unauthorized plane in enemy air-space. A warning you could say. When......Kit didn't report in when we were expecting him..."

 Max snorted and leaned against the Blue Eagle, arms folded.

 "We assumed he was shot down, then some began lookin' in that general area. Wasn't too hard as the Alemanians had been pushed back. They recovered the plane but....."

 "Not Kit?" Baloo asked fiercely, finishing the sentence. "An' who's _they_ anyway?!"

 "_They_ are the some military units that I contacted......just to see if.....what our chances were of even organizing a group to find the lad. Had to confirm the telegram as well."

 Baloo thought he was going to be sick. Confirmed.....well, there were worse things than what he was about to do. At least there wasn't anything _confirmed_.

 The pilot was still completely confused, but all that mattered was his priorities. Kit was gone, he knew why, but it still made little sense. All that he wanted to do now, was find the boy, no matter what.

 "H-how'd they get the plane all spiffed up so fast? Did a bang up job....." A faint memory. Becky and another lecture......

 "Wasn't it expensive?"

 Eric nodded, looking relieved somehow. Baloo scowled at the expression. The lieutenant shouldn't think he was off of the hook yet, after they found Kit, then maybe......

 "Well, yes. But it was seen as....as compensation for you and your..."

 "What?!"

 Max and Eric froze.

 "Tell whoever decided _that_, that I don't want any compenasation, as ya put it. Just want Kit back here, in one piece. No damn piece of machinery is gonna make up for anything."

 Baloo stomped out of the hangar, Max, and then Eric following, the lieutenant shutting the door after looking at the Blue Eagle one last time. No...didn't make up for anything, did it?

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Baloo hadn't noticed it the first time he was in the office, but this guy made Rebecca look like a first class slob by comparison.

 The bear felt awkward just standing in the middle of the room, like the pressure, and the spotless nature of.....everthing, made his every move a mistake that would disturb some kind of flawless system.

 Max was sitting, staring out of the window, not looking at Eric, but silent accusation was apparent in his every gesture. Eric sighed and sat down, rubbing his temples.

 "You know that the situation doesn't look good? I mean, there were a lot of MIA's, and this isn't even a military operation. There's no special force tha's gonna bail us out, though we've got financial backing, even if it isn't much. It's just us. We need to find out what we can.....then whoever I can get a hold of will do their best to find the lad."

 Baloo and Max just stared at him as though he were speaking in strange tongues. Eric put a hand over his eyes.

 "Listen to me. Here's what we're up against. Just because the Alemanians don't have control of half o' this bloody continent, don't mean that thay aren't still a threat. We can't just go wanderin' around hopin' that we'll get lucky an' somebody would have seen the kid. Nobody gonna's care but us, tell you that right now. Too many other things be goin' on. There was no evidence of where he could have gone, or been taken, whichever, when the plane was recovered."

 Baloo scowled dangerously. "So what are we supposed to do? If nobody knows nothin'?"

 Eric stared at his desk for a moment, searching for memories that could help them, even if he had never wanted to recall them ever again.

 "We need to head to the closest town, the one nearest to where Kit was brought down I mean. Someplace that still has got somethin' standin', and that may have our Allies in it, so's we can get in and make it out in one piece. That's what I was sayin'. This is still a war. And the Thembrians ain't gonna be gentle when they get here, even if they're supposed to be on our side. Too much has been done to 'em. So, there's gonna be some cities that are off limits, even to us. We need to cover as much ground as possible, as carefully as possible. Things are fallin' apart, even if we're the winners. There's nothin' out there, an' nobody's gonna be too friendly, not our own units, not the Thembrians, and sure as hell not the Alemenians."

 Baloo still looked lost, and now rather ill at ease.

 "He's sayin' that we probably won't be able to get into Linber. 'Specially not with the Thembrians takin' it from the east. Gonna be awful, that's all. We either gotta count on Kit not bein' there, or gettin' out somehow, if he's still in one piece, or scoping out the other cities where there would be the smallest chance, an' from what I've been hearin' it's pretty small, that someone would be able to help Kit in any way. Doubt it in any o' the smaller towns, just because there's nothin' there to help _with_." Max's clarification only brought more tension to the room.

 Baloo cleared his throat. This was going to be more complicated than he thought. Talk about a needle in a haystack.....

 "So.....what do you boys suggest? I mean, from what yer tellin' me..." The gray bear motioned to Eric. "We can't really do much for fear o' gettin' in a situation we can't get out of..."

 "And you..." Another gesture towards Max. "You're tellin' me that the chances that anybody would be willin' to help Kit are small, so why should we even try?"

 "I suggest we take it one step at a time...." Eric's voice sounded distant, cold....almost angry. Baloo didn't want to know why, but the racoon had the ability to make everyone around him very uncomfortable with amazing ease.

 "I'll try, see what I can do. But I'll tell you lads right now, I'm guessin' that Linber's out of the question. From all reports I've heard, place is a deathtrap. Max....."

 The dog didn't look at the lieutenant, but stood up impatiently. "I already told you.." He answered Eric's unasked question abruptly.

 "Leichsten....though from what _I've_ heard, place is worse, with what they've done to it, then what the capital could ever be. But it could be our best shot, lots of our boys there, an' it was the closest to where Kit was....um, brought down."

  "Well, sooner we leave, sooner we get there." Baloo stomped out of the door, leaving Max and Eric to scramble together the maps and such to try and follow.

 "Er....how're we gettin' there anyway?" the voices echoed in the corridor.

 "I've got a jeep, borrowed...but it'll do"

 "Y'know boys, Thembrians ain't so bad. In fact, even know a few 'o 'em myself...."

 "You _knew_ a few of them." Max retort, sharp and bitter, cut Baloo off. The gray bear stopped in his tracks before shaking his head, and following them out.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

April 20, 1945

The young pilot didn't seem to have the strength to ask for a drink of water, although he needed one desperately.

 His lips were cracked and sore, his mouth felt dry while his tongue almost seemed permanently stuck to the roof of it, sticky, coated and uncomfortable.

 As Kit opened his eyes slowly, so slowly, even the dimmest lights caused a sharp jab of agony to confront him, and his remarkably tender head.

 The young man wished for silence to let him sleep. What he kept hearing seemed so out of place and unnerving. An occasional boom, followed by cracking, or an out and out explosion. Kit didn't quite recognize it.

 Nor did he recognize his surroundings. The bed he was in, the room, everything......none of it was familiar. And none of it was quite clean, the dinginess of the once white walls apparent even in the semi-darkness, the cracks in the walls.

 Kit eased his head up to look around. There were many different, empty spots throughout the room that indicated where bed after bed had been placed.

 Now, however, there were only three, and his was the only one occupied.

 There seemed to be no one in sight........and no noise except the.....shelling? Was that what it could be?

 *Who on earth would be shelling here?* Wherever here was of course.

 Like missing pieces in a puzzle, several important memories continued to escape Kit, frustrating him when he tried to look at the big picture.

 And by the stars....his blasted head hurt! Gingerly, Kit placed his index finger on the bandage that covered most of his tousled hair and sore, throbbing brain. A twinge of pain acompanied it, but still nothing, thank goodness, in comparison to the terrible agony he was gradually beginning to remember.

 Incredibly....indeed, almost miraculously.....nothing appeared to be broken. Excepting his wrapped and painful ribs of course.

 What had Baloo once said? About him being born under a lucky star? The pilot wasn't kidding.

 Kit sat quietly all of a sudden. Baloo........the young man could barely see out of the window, but all that met his gaze was a gray and cloudy sky, hostile and depressing.

 The grey bear was probably worried sick. A hundred crashes, a hundred times that first his partner, then he himself had said that it wouldn't happen again, that the next time they would know what to expect.

 Kit stared down at hands. But he sure hadn't this time....had he? And he'd even promised that he would be more careful, try not to place himself in danger.

 It wasn't just about himself anymore.....and he'd forgotten once again. Despite his good intentions, despite his confidence, here he was.

 Frustrated, grimacing Kit attempted to pull himself up and out of the bed, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the escalating pain in his side. Time to answer the question of where _here_ was.

 Once again, the young man underestimated what exactly had happened. His weakened body wouldn't support his weight so soon, especially when there was nothing to assist him, or to keep him standing upright.

 The young pilot hit the floor with unanticipated speed, seeing stars, breathless with the pain. His vision gradually blurred and begin to darken, despite his efforts to stay conscious.

 He felt far, far away when he heard the footsteps, the voices. He couldn't quite see who it was that held him up, or helped him back into the bed. He wanted to rest.......he'd even admit it. He wanted to be back in Cape Suzette, back at Higher for Hire. Somewhere where he knew he'd be safe.

 Groaning, Kit opened his eyes to slits. He could almost see Baloo standing over him, with that concerned expression that he'd always worn whenever Kit had been ill.

 He felt....or....was he just remembering.....the bear's large hand on his forehead when he'd felt feverish, or Baloo's presence, always there right when he needed it, when he'd been under the weather, and ashamed because of it.

 It felt so good.......seeing the pilot again. Kit didn't even consider himself to be clingy, but it was incredibly reassuring thinking that Baloo was right there beside him, and that he didn't have to try and face the consequences of his actions alone.

 Opening his eyes wider, Kit smiled.

 The smile quickly vanished as he blinked suddenly and scowled at the young nurse standing over him, an uncertain, if sympathetic expression in her large eyes.

 The girl's face registered a faint shadow of fear. Kit blinked again, letting his eyes focus on her.....not quite believing what he was seeing.

 *She's so young!!*

 What in heaven's name was someone so young doing here......doing this job? She barely looked older than Molly, though in actuality she was probably quite a few years ahead of Rebecca's daughter.

 And.....she was so thin! Scrawny, just skin and bones.

 Kit stared unabashedly for a moment. The girl took a rag from deep within her pocket to dip it in a bowl of relatively clean, or so Kit hoped, water, wrung it out and placed it on his forehead.

 A tiny, half-smile appeared on her face, still with the deep traces of uneasiness and.....something....Kit thought he recognized it. Pain.

 The former navigator didn't understand what was happening. He was beginning to get a sinking feeling though.

 This place, the constant shelling, the explosions, and this waif of a girl, the first person he'd seen since the crash. He thought he knew what she was......if only he had as clear of an idea about _where_ he was.

 The nurse placed the rag on Kit's forehead, muttering something unintelligble under her breath and straightening the young pilot's bedsheets.

 That young man reached out suddenly and gently grasped the girl's wrist. She recoiled and pulled away as though he'd forcibly struck her. Kit, confused and ashamed quickly released his soft grip.

 "Wait!" he started as she quickly made her way to the door. "I-I'm sorry, didn't mean to........hey, wait, please!! I just have to ask about my pla...."

 Kit stopped as the girl disappeared. He crumpled one bedsheet fiercely in one hand and slammed his other fist into the yielding mattress, cursing.

 He hadn't wanted to frighten her. She seemed so...fragile. It just blew the former navigator's mind. That sickening sensation in the pit of his stomach was definitely starting to grow.

 The young man leaned back onto the thin pillow, sighing. He couldn't sleep, not with the constant noise, and certainly not with so many questions plaguing him night and day.

 He had to get out of here, wherever here was. He felt as useless as.......as....well, as he'd felt throughout this entire war, being stuck here.

 Baloo and Rebecca were probably sick with worry at this point. Kit turned over, easing his sore body into a more comfortable position. Sleep still evaded him.

 The bear wasn't sure of how many hours had passed with the only noise coming from the outside, the shrieking that notified all of an incoming shell, the blasting, all slowly driving him insane.

 He heard some footsteps outside the door, one pair soft, another, the sharp tap of boots against a hard surface, and finally the squeak of a different sort of shoe making it's presence known in the room. Turning and sitting up too quickly, Kit felt a blinding pain in his side as he eased himself back down.

 A now familiar face appeared over him as the nurse tentatively smoothed his covers once more. Kit didn't move. The girl acted afraid of him, yet here she was again. And who knew how many other times she had been here when he'd been delirious and in pain?

 Two more faces appeared. One, a young......my God, incredibly young, shepard dog in a tattered, but clean uniform painstakingly pressed and decorated.

 The dog glared fiercely at Kit before speaking harshly to the nurse in a language that Kit once again couldn't understand. He just watched the two......they looked like two children quarreling, which was approximately what they were, as the girl motioned towards him and answered back sharply.

 The soldier's lip curled as he stepped away, roughly taking the girl's arm and pulling her out of the door. Kit did sit up at that, regardless of the pain. The girl looked back at him for one moment as he watched the two, bewildered.

 She no longer looked afraid, just tired. She didn't put up a fight as the soldier continued to drag her out.

 Kit gritted his teeth and attempted to pull himself up and out of the bed in a vain effort to follow the pair.

 A hand quickly pushed the young man back. " 'ey now....don't think she went ta all that effort for you to be messin' it up, eh?" Kit looked at the other stranger, astonished.

 Another individual stood beside his bed smiling stiffly at him. He had a cast on one leg and a rickety pair of crutches supporting his weight precariously, at best.

 Kit stared back, not replying. The dingo spoke up once again.

 "Bet you're 'bout to 'ave a stroke wonderin' what the 'ell's goin' on, I was thinkin' the same thing when all 'o 'em brought me 'ere." Kit continued to stare, it was a language he could understand, on a good day. But the accent wasn't too familiar.

 Especially not during these last few months.

 As though the young man were reading Kit's mind, he smirked. "Usland, eh? That's what that little sheila be sayin' to me....don't 'zackly know 'ow she'd be knowin' though. But....since I be the only one 'round 'ere now who speaks on your terms, suppose I should introduce me self."

 Kit recognized it now. It was friendly, certainly a pleasant reminder of a place he remembered fondly. The young pilot smiled back. "I just thought that I'd scared the life out of her. I didn't think she was paying any attention to what I was saying."

 "Oh, she was payin' attention all right. Though 'alf expected 'er to give ya up as a goner afore this. Pretty close call, mate."

 Kit rubbed the top of his head before glancing back at the dingo. "I'm Kit.....for starters. Kit Cloudkicker. Christopher, whatever. You're from.....Oceania?"

 The young man leaned back on his crutches with practiced ease. "That's right....born and raised. Me name's Robert. An' tha's all. No one 'round here even give's a damn about _that_. I'm just the lad who 'ad the good sense to learn Alemanian way back in me golden years."

 Kit found himself relaxing, the dingo's easy-going manner easy to relate to, though amazingly out of place, almost bizarre in this atmosphere.

 He straightened up once again, grimacing as he remembered. "But...what about.....?" The young bear motioned towards the door.

 A shadow passed over Robert's face. "Oh.....just not 'appy about bringin' another one 'o us in, suppose. Not enough food 'ere for them, let alone extras. Real pinch you could say."

 Silence.

 Robert stared out of the window for a moment, eyes far away. The former navigator envied his mobility, even if he was impeded by the worn-out crutches.

 "Gal said you were askin' 'er a question after scarin' the daylights outta 'er." Robert leaned forward, expression serious.

 Whatever he'd seen through that dingy pane hadn't been encouraging. Neither were the sounds penetrating, escalating in volume, coming from outside.

 Another bombardment. Kit had been hearing them for days on end now, still...he wasn't used to it.

 "Yeah...my plane. I, I crashed....and then"

 "You were shot outta the sky...." Robert simplified. Kit scowled for a nanosecond.

 "Not really, I'm not in the military, and I was...."

 "You were jus' in enemy airspace..." The young bear sighed and looked pointedly at his companion.......or more so at the continued interruptions.

 "Okay...how's this" Kit glared at the now smug-looking dingo who cocked his head expectantly. "I was shot down after delivering supplies to some people in a DP camp, I don't know how far away it is from this place. I had to go through some Alemanian airspace, I.....it was a stupid mistake. A rookie manuever, but it happened."

 "You're lucky ta be in one piece, mate" Robert propped one cheek on the palm of his hand, elbow resting neatly on a crutch, still waiting.

 "I-I have no idea of how I got here. I don't remember any of it after the crash." Silence. Robert didn't rise to the inquiry.

 Instead, to Kit's amazement, the dingo began to giggle lightly, then with more and more vigor. "An' 'ere's me thinkin' what I did was stupid. Least I 'ad a reason. Mean, bein' in the RAF ain't 'zackly a picnic, but it sure beats endin' up with yer nose in the dirt over nothin'"

 Kit felt his temper rise as he stared at Robert incredously. *What a pompous, pain in the..... *

 "Well....well at least I was helping somebody when it happened. Not dropping bombs or..or causing something like this!!" Kit motioned to the window, out of breath, eyes flashing.

 An uneasy tension filled the room. Robert stopped laughing, a faint expression of sadness in his eyes. He turned to gaze out of the window again.

 "A family found you, brought you 'ere. The nurse, don't even know 'er name, she won't say, she's been takin' care o' ya. Don't know 'bout yer plane, don't know about anythin' like that. I was shot down over Landenburg, an' lemme tell ya, this is nothin' compared to that. Fiery 'ell, there. Was the only one who made it, all me mates....well, ain't 'ere. Some o' their last runs, too, afore they was scheduled ta go 'ome."

 "No such thing as Alemanian airspace now, lad. Ya knew that, right?"

 Kit didn't......he wasn't surprised though. The young pilot shook his head lightly.

 Robert continued to stare out of the window. A shrill sound, an even louder boom and several pieces of plaster falling on Kit's bed, dust everywhere, still didn't break the dingo out of his reverie.

 "So, broke me leg. Now I'm stuck 'ere. An' don't be expectin' this to be anythin' fancy, mate. Ain't no food, no supplies. Nothin'. Water wit' a bit of somethin' in it. Don't even ask anymore 'bout what it be. I was tossed onto a truck, brought here. Don't 'ave anythin' to take us to the POW camp, so's I'm guessin' they think it be enough punishment to stay 'ere. Can't go anywhere, city's blocked off."

 Kit's mouth was dry. He didn't even dare ask for a drink of water, especially not with the dire predictions the dingo was handing him. He'd faced hunger before. They weren't pleasant memories, he remembered fighting for every mouthful he could get, even the recollection was degrading. It was a full circle, he supposed. Always comes back to basic survival, but still.....

 It was one thing to fight for yourself, it was quite another to take food from a child, or someone with a family. Anyone........anyone at all who needed it even more desperately than him.

 The entire situation was unpleasantly ironic. He'd come to fight these kind of things. Now he was a part of it.

 Everything was crazy, turned upside-down, and there was no end to any of it.

 "So....we're the only ones?"

 "Only one's I know of. Only one's stupid enough, or in bad enough shape ta be stuck here. An' it ain't gonna be pretty, when the Thembrians get 'ere."

 Finally, Robert turned to stare back at the former navigator. An eerie quiet settled everywhere. Even the constant disturbances outside had stopped.

 Kit could think of absolutely nothing to say. That explained the atmosphere of fear here. And with him right in the middle of it.

 Robert voiced the young pilot's thoughts. "Shoulda saved some 'o those supplies, mate. Gonna need 'em. An' don't be thinkin' those lads are on our side, it ain't Usland troops, don't 'ave a clue as to why they stopped where they did. Ain't 'eard much 'o anythin'. But I knows it's gonna be brutal. Count on it.

 Kit didn't answer, only looked down at his hands. Linber, how many times had he read about the city, heard about what was happening.

 It had seemed like the heart of a terrible evil. Still did, especially with what Kit had seen and experienced.

 He just hoped he could find a way to get out soon, before everything came crashing down.

 Both individuals looked up as two pair of footsteps entered the room. The young nurse, her eyes red, said something softly to the dingo, who nodded before shooting a look of hatred towards the uniformed young man standing next to the girl.

 "She says to stay in bed for a few days more. Says that she's sorry, but she's leavin'."

 Kit stared at the young nurse, who motioned for him to lay down. He complied. She then walked over to Robert and lightly tapped his cast. He said nothing, only stared down at her.

 The uniformed shepard dog began to speak rapidly, addressing either the nurse, or Robert, or perhaps both. Kit waited for Robert to interpret, desperately wishing he could at least understand a small part what was being said. It didn't sound too encouraging.

 "He says that 'e's taking 'is sister and leavin' to go to the north, he 'eard a rumor that his village was bombed out, they 'aven't heard from their family in a week, so they're leaving ta go there."

 *Sister?!* Another voice, softer, spoke up again. Robert answered quietly before hugging the girl for a moment then stepping back as she made her way out of the door, crying softly.

 The soldier looked first at Kit, then at Robert. He spat on the floor before following the girl out. Kit stared after him, hoping he didn't look as lost as he felt.

 So.....this was war. Nothing was simple, nothing was what it seemed. He couldn't quite find his voice.

 "She.....she's worried?"

 "She feels responsible for us, suppose. Take care 'o someone, bound ta 'appen. Told me all 'bout 'er brother, though. Bad seed, that. Y'know the type?"

 Kit nodded, eyes shut tightly. He knew........

 "She's not proud 'o 'im, or what's been done. But.....she couldn't stop 'im could she? Family couldn't either. Really can't stand the thought o' 'er bein' left with only 'im in the world. Sad business, tha's all"

 "Th-they're pretty young...."

 Robert suddenly looked aged. Kit's expression mirrored the dingo's without his knowing it. "All tha's left, Kit. There what's been left over, an' now it rests on them"

 Kit hated himself for asking, but he had to. He had to know.

 "So....we're pretty much outta luck, huh?"

 "Pretty much. I'd go so far's to say that we're in a 'eap 'o trouble. You're stuck there, I ain't any good wit' this leg. So.....'ope ya got a guardian angel somewhere's. Tell 'em we need some 'elp."

 An understatement. A shell, neither Kit nor Robert saw from which direction it came from, came smashing through the wall with a deafening roar. The roof came down on top of the pair with terrible pressure.

 Like a nightmare, Kit felt the debris on top of him, the dust that choked him. He didn't know what had happened to Robert, all he could hear was the shells, falling everywhere, unlike anything he could have imagined.

 Something fell on his already tender, sore head and like an act of mercy, Kit lost consciousness, forgetting where he was, how he got there, and seeing only memories in place of this harsh reality.......~

One of these days, Kit was really going to have to put his foot down whenever Baloo got a bee in his bonnet about a treasure hunt.

 Rebecca sure wasn't buying any more of his excuses, the competition was becoming more and more aggressive, and they never ended up with anything but what they had started out with. And that was when they were lucky and hadn't had to jump through hoops to get away from either Karnage, Spigot, or whoever else it was that had it out for them.

 It was enough to make the navigator want to give it up altogether. Kit stopped in his tracks. Well.....almost, but not quite. But maybe next time he should insist on carrying the map, or at least choosing their destination.

 Some place out in the open, some place that no one else knew about. And especially, some place where Karnage and his goons couldn't harass them.

 Some place far, far away from here.

 The cub was getting tired of always avoiding the captain. There certainly wasn't any love lost between the two anyway, and Karnage seemed to go out of his way to make life miserable for both him and Baloo any chance he got.

 Like now.

  Kit sighed and kicked a pebble, listening to it richocet off of the cavern's walls. And that was another thing....no more caves, no more hazardous places that even came close.

 Next time he was going to insist on it.

 But for now the navigator of the Sea Duck was berating himself. Severely.

 Once again, he'd let Baloo talk him into it, once again they were being trailed by his former.....ahem, buddies from the good 'ol Iron Vulture, and once again he had been foolish enough to disregard Baloo's instructions.

 So, once again he now found himself separated from the pilot. That particular individual was not going to be very happy about all of this.

 Well, his own lecture or self-condemning would be nothing in comparison to Baloo's, who would ground him for life, if not longer, then threaten to never let the boy out of his room again.

 All of this after he'd nearly broken his back from hugging him so tight. Kit sighed, the noise echoing off of the walls.

 The cub really wasn't even certain how it had happened. One minute he'd been right behind the large bear, then, the tunnels had split. Leaving Kit to go one way, Baloo inevitably, the other.

 *Of all the rotten luck.....* The navigator grimaced. *Yeah, some navigator, can't even find Baloo, let alone the doggone treasure....on top of everything else.....*

 Sometimes......

 He cupped his hands, ready to call out Baloo's name and increasingly tired of wandering aimlessly, ready to face up to the unavoidable lecture.

 He'd feel better after finding the bear anyway. Kit stopped and leaned against one side of the well-lit, if precarious cavern wall......that one word however, dying quickly on his lips.

 The boy nearly choked on it as he recognized some rather unwelcome sounds coming from farther down the path, still in front of him.

 The voices echoed throughout the hollow cavern, and the cub, unfortunately, knew what was coming.

 "I am not caring if you are thinking we have no idea of where the treasure is you nasty-type ninny! I am the one who is having the ideas and you are the brainless buffoons, the hired henchmen, the imbec-"

 If there had been a good place to duck and hide, the navigator certainly would have followed through. Unfortunately, with his back against solid rock, and with the opposite side of the path leading only to an open-faced cliff, the only alternative lay behind Kit, in the seemingly thousands of twisting, confusing tunnels that could swallow any hapless explorer who was careless enough to risk it.

 Kit was willing to risk it when Karnage spotted him.

 The wolf glared at him as the cub quickly retreated. Kit heard Karnage snarl and pull out his sword.

 "After him you idiotic ingrates! I will be hanging your filthy hides out on the line to dry if are not bringing that dilinkety-wink type pain in my side back here!!"

 Luckily for Kit the captain's long-winded announcement and his usual speed gave him time to dart into one of the many tunnel at a dead run, feeling more annoyed than anything else at Karnage and his groupies.

 *This is getting downright monotonous.* Kit ignored the fleeing thought, concentrating on what was in front of him.

 The navigator dashed down a smaller tunnel and glanced behind him for one moment, surprised at the lack of yelling and unorganized scampering that usually accompanied these pursuits.

 Of course, he could not have seen the small rock that tripped him, he was only concerned with catching himself as he went sprawling, hands painfully making contact with the jagged, uneven surface of the tunnel floor.

 Kit lay dazed for a minute, his body now sore and dirty, his arms feeling as though they'd been jolted out of their sockets. Surprisingly, the boy didn't have any trouble getting up once more.

  The assistance, unfortunately, was from a most unwelcome source. Kit felt himself being flung over Dumptruck's shoulder as delicately as a sack of potatoes.

 Kicking and struggling, the boy only managed to loosen the large dog's grip a bit before he felt the dim-witted pirate pin his small arms against him using the massive bulk of his own.

 The openness of the main cavern only succeeded in magnifying that unpleasant, high-pitched giggle that Kit knew to be Karnage's trademark.

 The huge pirate carrying the boy seemed to bask in the captain's praise as Karnage patted him on his other, unoccupied shoulder.

  "Ah, good, good! You have actually been managing to do something right Dumptruck! Remind me to reward your most insignificant self some time.....er, far, far off in my comfortable person's future......"

 "But...vait, er Captain....dat's vhat you said da last...."

 "Well my puny-type pest! Do I have to be guessing why you are here? I should not have to be using my most perfect brain to think very hard, yes-no?"

 Kit scowled and squirmed against the huge dog's iron grip. "I don't remember you ever using it before, _Captain_" the cub sneered at the wolf standing in front of him, arms folded with a superior smirk on his face.

 Karnage's demeanor changed in an instant as he bared his teeth and stepped forward to grab the boy's chin tightly in one hand.

 Kit winced at the pirate's rough hold.

 "I have been looking very much forward to the day when I would not be stumbling over your annoying-type person. I am once more thinking it is time to be reducing you to unrecognized ribbons. What would you be saying, you revolting runt? Should..."

 "Karnage!" the wolf released his painful grip as Kit flexed his jaw.

 Baloo stood behind the pirate, both fists clenched, a look of absolute fury on his face as he met the captain's gaze straight on.

 "Ah! It is the pudgy pilot here to retrieve his loser-type baggage....."

 "Put him down" the bear's voice was low and dangerous. Kit recognized that tone. The wolf was better off doing what he said.

 Karnage didn't seem intimidated as he placed his sword back in it's usual place with a flamboyant gesture and stepped to the side of Dumptruck bowing gracefully.

 "Certainly....Dumptruck, you are knowing where to be putting Meester Cloudkicker?"

 The large dog blankly stared at Karnage, who slapped his forehead noisily. "The cliff you moronic meat-head!!"

 Dumptruck jerked the navigator off of his shoulder and, still holding the boy's arms tightly, held him over the edge of the precipice.

 Kit, in spite of his anger, felt his stomach twist at the darkened emptiness below him. The bottom wasn't even visible.

 Baloo met his gaze. Kit could see the fear there, even as the pilot attempted to smile reassuringly. was humiliated and more than a little disgusted at that rotten pirate, and at himself for putting Baloo in this situation.

*Some day, Karnage is going to regret everything he's done like this!!* The boy's rage wasn't going to help him at this moment.

 Karnage himself was smiling at Baloo expectantly, knowing what the pilot's reaction would be.

 Baloo took a step back and raised his hands slightly, not quite able to look at the pirate or on the same token, take his eyes off of his navigator.

 "I am thinking maybe you are wanting to ask for a bargain....."

 "I think you mean _deal_ Karny.....what do you want?"

 Karnage glanced at Kit, wisely remaining perfectly still as he hung over the edge of the ravine. The navigator looked once more at Baloo who was unconsciously twisting his cap tightly, his face tense and worried..

 "What are you supposing?"

 Baloo didn't even bother to correct the pirate as he handed over a worn, folded piece of paper. The wolf grasped it eagerly, unfolding it and glancing back to Baloo with a smirk.

 "I am never quite knowing how one as plain and estupid as you can always get his grasping hands on something such as this. It is beyond even one so smart as myself! But......he who is weak must give in to the strong species, yes-no?"

 Baloo raised an eyebrow at the captain's jarbled speech patterns before returning all attention to the boy still hanging dangerously over the cliff.

 Perhaps the pilot simply didn't trust himself to reply to Karnage's gloating.

 He just scowled. "Okay, now....put the kid down."

 A malicious glint appeared in the wolf's eyes. For one fleeting moment Baloo caught it and his blood turned to ice.

 "Dumptruck?" Once again that individual only managed to stare emptily at Karnage. Pulling out his sword once more the wolf pointed it at Baloo.

 "Drop him, you doltish dullard!!"

 For one terrifying instant Kit felt himself free-fall, hearing only Baloo's frantic "No!"

 It was only through years of thinking on his feet and his own lightning reflexes that he managed to grasp the cliff with his fingers, immediately feeling shots of pain travel down his hands and arms, his fingers quickly giving way.

 Again, he heard Baloo call out his name as he struggled to hang on.

 "Kit!!" Disregarding the rather uncomfortable weapon pointed at him, the pilot managed to roughly push both Karnage and his lackey aside, aided by adrenalin and his own terrible fear.

 A strong hand grasped the cub's wrist just as Kit lost his grip completely. The navigator felt himself being hoisted up over the edge before Baloo stopped for one moment to set the boy on his feet.

 It cost him.

 Karnage, infuriated, grabbed Kit's shoulders and harshly pinned him against the unyielding wall of the cavern.

 "No more playing-type games. You have been a pebble under my foot for too long...."

 The wolf could have cared less about his mixed metaphors as he grasped his sword firmly and brought it around.

 Baloo reacted, but not quickly enough. Luckily for the pilot, Kit was ready. Closing his eyes, he kicked the wolf directly in the shin and ducked as the captain released him, yelping in pain, his sword connecting only with stone, sparking and shrieking in protest.

 Kit then felt two large hands grab his shoulders and pull him away from the slow-reacting band of neer-do-wells and their now very unhappy captain, who continued to hop up and down, grimacing and cursing in pain.

 Baloo hoisted his navigator up and darted with surprising speed out of the cavern, away from the pirates and down one of the many darkened tunnels that offered temporary safety.

 Both were breathing hard as they looked at each other. Kit winced slightly, his sore body protesting against Baloo's sudden, crushing embrace.

 But he didn't mind......it was worth it.

 The boy placed his arms around the pilot's neck as Baloo kneeled down holding him tightly, breathing raggedly.

 It was very quiet, peaceful, the two's pursuerers having obviously found something better to do with their time..

 Baloo picked the cub up once more, letting Kit's head rest on his chest. "What's the quickest way outta here, Li'l Britches?"

 Kit smiled and relaxed. "You had the map Papa Bear.....too bad, we could really use it now....."

 "Wouldn't have been worth it Kit" Baloo's voice, uncharacteristically serious, echoed off of the tunnel walls.

 "Too bad I'm always forgettin' that that snake can't be trusted....." Baloo started walking, still carrying the boy. Kit didn't mind for once, he was shaky after his close call.

 The anxiety could have been applied to both as Baloo gently rested a hand on Kit's head, alarmed at the cub's persistent shaking.

 Kit stared straight ahead, grateful for Baloo's comforting presence, but still......guilty.

 "Guess I messed up again, huh Baloo?"

 The gray bear softly squeezed the navigator before responding.

 "Not your fault, kiddo......what's more important anyway?"

 Kit raised his gaze up to Baloo's, who smiled at the boy tenderly.

 That feeling.......sometimes Kit felt as though it would never let him go....not just about this, but.....everything.

 He felt responsible. He didn't know how to explain it.

 "Baloo, you shouldn't have to pull me outta the fire all of the time. I-I, sometimes feel like I'm more trouble than I'm worth" Kit muttered, his voice unsteady.

 The large pilot did stop at that. Baloo gently set Kit on his feet.

 "Kit, listen to me, an' listen good. The day you're more trouble 'n yer worth is the day when I sprout wings 'o my own an' fly"

 Kit smiled slightly at the statement. The pilot placed his hands on the boy's shoulders.

 "Kid, are you thinking that maybe I'm stupid? Or that I don't know how ta use my head?"

 The cub hadn't been expecting that. Bewildered, he looked at Baloo before shaking his head.

 "An' dontcha think I know a good thing when I see it?"

 Again, the boy nodded his head, still unsure of what the large bear was saying.

 "Well, then why are you always actin' like you know better'n me when it comes to my navigator? When you say stuff like that about yerself, you ain't just hurtin' you, 'cause it ain't true, but you're hurtin' me too because I don't let nobody talk or assume stuff like that about someone I care about....ever. Not even if it's you kiddo"

 The navigator smiled broadly in spite of himself and nodded vigorously, his voice catching in his throat and his eyes pricking at him.

 He swiped at them with the back of his hand, easily staying right beside the bear as Baloo squeezed him gently but tightly with one arm.

 "So.....I may not be able to make you believe it now, but I'm sure gonna keep tryin'. An' hopefully, someday down the road you'll be able ta see the same things I see when I look at ya. Kit, that would be the best thing I could ever give ya, lemme tell ya straight."

See the same things. On the same token, Kit wanted nothing more than to be the kind of person that Baloo always said he was.

 More than anything else, the best thing the navigator could give back was to make the bear proud of him.

 "Just one more thing Kit-boy...."

 Kit grimaced, knowing what the gray bear would say.

 "I'm thinkin' we should hold off on these hunts fer awhile. Y'know, my ticker ain't gonna be able to take much more 'o what happened back there, what say we let the adventurin' go an'....."

 Kit shook his head ruefully, happier than ever to see the exit right there in front of them.~

 The young pilot didn't want to come back. The pain was so terrible, and he was so tired of feeling it. There was darkness in front of him, making it difficult to see and focus..

 He had no idea of how long he had lain here, but he continued to cough up dust and who knows what else.

 A brisk wind hit him, offering an unpleasant clue as to how hard the building had been hit.

 He lifted his head up slowly, weak and exhausted. Rubble was everywhere.

 Robert was nowhere to be seen. Kit began the long process of attempting to stand. He desperately surveyed the debris, seeing no sign of life anywhere. A cold rain began to fall, lightly at first, then with a vengeance.

 Chilled to the bone, Kit gave up and started to crawl across what remained of the hospital. He could still hear the shelling, but there was no one in sight.

 Raising his head a bit Kit saw the gray landscape, buildings blown apart.........everywhere, there was destruction.

 It was beyond his worst nightmare, and he'd had his fair share.

 Still unable to pick himself up, the former navigator squeezed himself in between two large slabs, probably what remained of the roof, to wait out the rain.

 He kept hoping to hear Robert's cheery voice call out in that wasteland. Nothing.

 Nothing but shells falling and the rain to accompany it.

 The memory of Baloo caused a fog of depression to surround Kit, an emotion he'd forgotten.

 What was the bear doing right now?

 The fleeting vision of Higher for Hire, with it's lit windows and the calm, peaceful lapping of the harbor's ocean close by took Kit away from this cold desolation, if only for a moment.

 That emotion, guilt. How many times had Baloo tried to keep him safe? Risked his own life even.

 He'd let the pilot down again. And here he was, unable to say he was sorry.

 The confusion, the overall disorienting atmosphere held sway. The young nurse, even to a much lesser degree, her brother.

 They were all part of this gruesome little soap opera, but they weren't what Kit had expected. What had he expected? Evil incarnate? .

 These....kids, were what all of this was for?

 The city no longer looked like a threat, with it's crumbling skyline and empty streets. These were his enemies?

 Where exactly where the one's who had started it all? Where were the soldiers who had marched in the countries of Eporue to destroy what had been established there for hundreds of years? They were the ones who needed to face up to all of this.

 _They_ were Kit's enemy, he was sure of it.

 More so than what he'd seen, or rather hadn't seen, here.

 Maybe they were all his enemies. Or maybe there was simply nothing left.

 The young man wasn't even aware of the exact time that sleep overtook him. 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 "War is the reversal of civilization"- George Orwell

April 20, 1945

 The large, gray bear thought that he'd never seen a more sorry excuse for a city.

 *Good thing I ain't been here for awhile......* Leichensten, just a name now, like a great many places around here.

 What remained standing appeared to be crumbling apart, rubble, bricks....everywhere an invasive cloud of dust that refused to settle.

 Baloo was tired of choking on it. Even here, in this small tent, one couldn't get away from it.

 To walk outside was to see destruction on an unprecedented level, everywhere, the shocked, at times filthy, but often numbing expression of complete despair on refugee after refugee's faces.

 They remained huddled in small groups, many afraid of the soldiers they had heard terrible things about, regardless of the amount of truth in them.

 Baloo almost felt sorry for them, no...not almost. The pity he felt was close to tangible it was so strong.

 Yet....there was something strange about the whole situation....and it turned his stomach, though why, he couldn't say.

 Something was......missing. He couldn't define it.

 The soldiers were friendly enough to the small group, himself, Eric and Max, though they were no help, most having just arrived here from either Anglia or Lorraise....and still shocked themselves at the terrible devastation that was seen....and felt, everywhere.

 Baloo tightened his fist before leaning back in the rickety chair, not caring what Max's reaction would be, even if the dog did look up and notice.

 No leads, no clues.....no ideas of what to do next and severe restrictions on where they could go now.

 Max sat studying the fingered, dirty map carefully, resting his head on one hand, one elbow holding the seemingly worthless object in place as he traced it carefully with his other fingers.

 Baloo scratched his head before standing up and peeking out of the tent door, still unaccustomed to the shock one experienced at seeing the ruin that lay out there.

 A few soldiers milled about. The bear turned his head to stare at Max, who looked up for a moment before turning all attention back to his tedious job......a discouraging one, considering the lack of leads here.

 Finding somewhere else where perhaps they might find _something_.

 Baloo swallowed hard, feeling the sudden, crushing wave of anxiety and worry. He couldn't let himself thing about Kit hurt or suffering somewhere.....he couldn't.

 It scattered his thoughts and made him absolutely panicked......and he needed to think clearly right now, more than anything else.

 He certainly couldn't allow his thoughts to go deeper than that. The thought that maybe Kit.....the possibility he'd never see the boy again.....well, it was too painful.

 "So.....uh....." Max lifted an eyebrow and slowly averted his gaze to rest it, condenscendingly on Baloo. The bear gritted his teeth.

 Now if he had a hard time figuring out Eric, with his intimidating coldness and those deep shadows in his eyes, he'd had an even more difficult time figuring this kid out, with hsi irritating ability to make you respect him, in spite of or perhaps because of, his harsh tendencies.

 "Where'd Eric say he'd be?" the pilot finally muttered.

 "He's radioing in......he keeps tryin' to get into Linber, though at this rate.....and with all of the _glorious_ help from our troops out there, it doesn't look good."

 Baloo sat down with a sigh and rested his head in his hands. It wasn't groundbreaking news.

 The pilot looked up at the sound of sudden scribbling. Max circled what seemed to the pilot, to be an undesignated section which consisted of a confusing mass of lines, roads and the like.

 Baloo had never been good with maps.....Kit sure had a knack with them, though.

 Another stab of pain, the large bear was getting rather used to it.

 He looked up to see Max staring at him. For one second, the tough mask slipped and Baloo saw the sadness,maybe even pity in the dog's countenance.

 It hit Baloo.

 Instead of Max, there was another kid, younger, seemingly tough, abrasive and street-wise but hiding a good heart, keen mind and sensitive nature.

 Baloo had felt a connection then too, and had never regretted it, though the doubts were forceful and frequent.

 The mask slipped back, Baloo was a bit embarrassed himself, not realizing his inner turmoil could be so visible from the outside.

 "Max.....humor me for a sec..."

 The dog looked up suspiciously.

 "Yeah.....what?"

 "Were you good friends with Kit......?"

 "Whaddya mean?"

 "Well....when 'ol Eric first gotta hold of us, me an'.....Kit's uh, boss, my boss too, I guess, he was goin' on about stolen supplies an' Kit bein' dismissed. You know anythin' about that? I jus' wanted to know. Kit's a good kid....he ever, uh....do anything or did somethin' maybe happen to make him wanna leave?"

 Max stood silently, clutching his pencil, uneasiness etched over his face in deep lines.

 "I think, could just be me, but I think that Kit wasn't happy with somethin' going on here.....he can be a little defensive, almost too sensitive, even if he's got a heart of gold.... I jus' wanted to know....if, um.....ya knew of somethin' going on. It could really set my mind at ease."

 Baloo twisted his cap and looked at Max almost pleadingly, as if begging him for information.

 A sudden snap caused both pilots to jump and Max looked down ruefully at his broken pencil.

 "Kit...was a good worker. Everyone liked him.... He jus' took things a little too personally. It was like he felt as if he owed everybody out there somethin' and he got frustrated to the point that he couldn't take it anymore, when he felt like he wasn't makin' a difference..."

 Max stood up quickly, nervously.....it seemed to Baloo. The young man acted like he'd said too much.

 The dog stood for a moment, looking outside as Baloo fumbled, trying very hard to think of how to phrase his next question.

 "Why would he feel frustrated?" The bear finally asked flatly.

 Short and simple, taking the roundabout approach didn't seem to be working. Max still didn't say anything.

 Baloo, angry suddenly, though he really didn't understand why, stood up quickly. "Thanks a heap for yer help...." he growled, smashing his cap back down on his head, ready to walk out.

 "You have anybody else fightin' here, or in the other hemisphere, Baloo?" the dog's voice was eerily subdued.

 He turned to look at the bear, who shook his head.

 "Naw.....I was lucky. Thought I could be even luckier, an' not hafta worry, or go through that hell, like I did in the last one. But...."

 Silence.

 Baloo motioned outside. Max nodded before walking back over to the table.

 "I liked Kit, sure. Even though he thought he could change the world. We kept deliverin' the supplies to the same spots, but.....it was weird, didn't add up if ya know what I mean. We kept deliverin' more and more suff. Like I said....didn't make sense."

 "There are a lot of people out there but......look, don't hafta draw you a picture do I?"

 The gray bear, now sitting directly across from him, nodded once again, his understanding slowly beginning to grow.

 "I wondered 'bout it, I guess....everyone did. But Kit....it was like he just couldn't let it go. It jus' burned a hole in him. You're his dad, you can't tell me you've never noticed...."

 Baloo didn't have to nod his head again. His eyes were full of memories....they spoke for themselves.

 "So, one night, me an' him, we were talkin'. And just to get some blasted peace I guess I humored him...."

 "How?" came the harsh reply.

 "We went into the shed, uh, were they kept all of the stuff, an' broke one of their petty regulations. Opened up a crate. I was really thinkin' that it was weapons, contraband, y'know.....something like that"

 Baloo let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

 "Jus' more supplies.....kid got so damn frustrated, guess it was the last straw. He talked to Eric......an' I honestly don't know what was said." Max held up his hands.

 Baloo motioned for him to go on.

 "But after...um, well, Kit wouldn't listen to reason. He jus' thought, like the rest of us mind you, though he was more adament, that if we couldn't do our jobs the way we was supposed to, or if we were helpin' something or someone we didn't want any part of.....than he would go off himself. Don't know what he wanted to accomplish"

 "An' you guys helped?" Baloo's gaze was frosty.

 "It was the only way I could think of to try and prevent him from bein' scattered all over a hundred mile radius....not that it did any good, shoulda just kept to mys-"

 Max stopped again, the same sympathetic expression apparent, as Baloo's face twisted.

 "Sorry" he mumbled.

 Baloo just plowed ahead. "Well....._why_ we ya just deliverin' all of that stuff to the same place? I'm startin' to see Kit's frustration!"

 Max planted both hands on the unsteady table which creaked and rocked as he leaned against it.

 "I think Eric had a little under the table business goin' on with people who _really_ knew how to use what we shoulda been givin' out....an' when Kit decided to unravel it, he wasn't too happy....."

 Max then folded his arms, chest heaving as Baloo stared at him carefully.

 "Eric? As in...Eric, Eric?!!"

 Max nodded.

 "Is that, that.....uh, bad feelin' between you two. I swear, it's like fingernails on a chalkboard bein' around the both of you sometimes."

 Again, the brown dog nodded and glared at the large bear.

 "I know what yer thinkin'. He's......a mystery. He served in the Great War, y'knew that right? Then he was a pilot for awhile after. Pretty good one at that......if you've never heard of him, like me, then I suppose it was because he was either anonymous or under a fake name during most o' those years."

 Max sighed and rubbed his eyes suddenly. "Basically he's got respect _and_ connections, an' you don't think he'd get involved in anything shady.....but there's too many creepy things 'bout the guy that I can't explain away."

 "An' his attitude after Kit's....uh, disappearance. Even towards Kit up until he left. There are too many things that can't be explained.....an' what makes it ten times harder is that the guy's smart.....and there's still somethin' about him that, um, well....I guess draws people."

 "How else do you think we've gotten even this far? Even if he is under orders? Hell, I'm under his high and mighty policies now an' I really can't stand him....but even _I_ like the jerk!!"

 Baloo, his knuckles while from gripping the table, began to chuckle at that, releasing his hold.

 The bear knew that Eric was tied in more strongly with all of this than perhaps the bear really wanted to know.

 He also knew that he understood something about the racoon that he couldn't explain.

 Something that not Rebecca or Louie...or even Kit could fully see, know and remember.

 It was an old bitterness, sometimes consuming.

 The bear felt a wave of guilt to know that those who didn't understand it and had no responsibility for it were the ones who had to finally, after decades of festering hate, bring it to it's conclusion.

 And this individual could see the vast scope of it, much more than Baloo did. The bear many times wanted to ask, even though before he'd been lacking specific knowledge, about how the racoon had been able to become less of a victim of such a tragedy, and change to something closer to just a result of it.

 The finished product, seen and expected.

 "So, that's yer hunch? Where's your proof?" Baloo put his hands behind his head.

 "I don't have any.....probably won't get any either. If he's here now, searching, then you'd think it'd blow my whole theory all to pieces, wouldn't you? But I think he's guilty o' somethin'. Gonna be even worse when he finally cracks and confesses."

 The dog stopped. Baloo blinked, surprised at the young man's assurances, they were almost uncanny...

 "'Course, won't change anythin'.....never does. Sometimes don't see the use, even when dirty so and so's have to face up to things. Can't change what's already happened an' it sure can't bring Kit back, no matter how guilty anybody is, an' fer what reason....."

 Baloo's thoughts matched the mood in the tent, the far-off pain in Max's eyes.

 The bear cleared his throat awkwardly but still the dog didn't snap out of it. Baloo made to stand up again before he heard Max speak up, the young pilot's voice was thick and unsteady.

 "Kit.....he, uh. Well, might as well say that he reminded me 'o my brother......always chargin' off anywhere he could without thinkin' it through first. I told the kid he was a blasted fool, each time I told 'em......but it didn't do any good either time, did it?"

 Baloo felt strange all of a sudden. An old memory, long since buried away.

 It hurt to lose someone you loved.....especially a brother.

 "There was a lot, 'specially in that God awful invasion.....one of the last waves. Have to find....the uh....place, where he's at now. There's a lot of 'em, like I said. Still haven't visited it. Too depressin', y'know?"

 The dog walked out of the tent.

 Baloo barely noticed that he'd left, feeling an unbearable pressure on his chest.

 *Know how ya feel kid....*

 The pilot looked up again as he hear the tent flaps open.

 Instead of seeing Max, almost a relief considering that Baloo didn't quite know what to say to the young man, the bear say the subject of previous discussion.

 The racoon seemed out of breath.

 "Good news?" the gray bear asked anxiously. Please....he needed some right now.

 "I.....jus' heard something, can hardly believe it....but, no, sorry. No news 'bout Kit."

 "Well...what happened?!" Baloo didn't feel like making conversation. The expression on the lieutenant's face was unnerving, he almost looked sick to his stomach.

 He didn't like the sudden apprehension he felt towards Eric either. His first impression, that the officer was hiding something, came back with a vengeance.

 "You need to hear it from these guys. Jus' arrived from some place little farther north. They.....saw somethin' there....I. You need to hear it from them. I don't really want......"

 "What?!!" Baloo was suddenly, unexpectantly, afraid. There had been rumors of something going on....but there were always rumors.

 "Baloo...." the racoon's gaze was intense. He looked far away and disturbed. "There are some refugees comin' in.....jus'....be prepared."

 The pilot didn't reply. He didn't move from where he was standing either.

 Finally, Eric sighed. He hadn't wanted to phrase it. Still wouldn't. But surely the bear had noticed......

 "There aren't......any, uh.....polar bears around here? That you've seen?" The lieutenant's crisp accent made the words penetrate, though the bear didn't understand.

 Maybe he didn't want to.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Eric watched Baloo's expression closely, though he couldn't exactly say why. The bear had become paler and paler, until the Lieutenant had been worried that he'd pass out.

 The two soldiers speaking didn't look much better.

 One even left in the middle of the discussion, appearing a little green around the gills.

 Eric couldn't shake the butterflies in his stomach, or the chills that occasionally took over.

 What he'd just heard from these individuals was beyond belief, nothing......not even the horrors he'd experienced in battle, not even the nightmarish visions in the trenches, things that should not be seen, should not even exist, could compare to the images that confronted him now.

 It could de-sensitize him.

 But......he didn't care right?

 Just more people caught in the middle. Just.......casualties of war. There were always casualties of war.

 But not like this.

 The soldier's face as he'd stammered and tried to form the words that could even slightly describe what had been seen.

 Eric didn't care, he told himself over and over.

 Seen too much, he should have expected it, with the human tendency for.

 But the racoon felt like he'd been forcibly hit in the gut. God.......how could he care _not_ care?!"

 Eric didn't want to see those who remained, who would arrive soon.

 Crazily, irrationally, he had wanted to sit that soldier down, to let him take a deep breath, just to clear away whatever images he must've had.....or even just shake him fiercely, to make him take back such morbid, twisted lies.

 Something sparked in Eric. He tried to douse it.

 Finally, after twenty years, something that couldn't be brushed off or explained away.

 All the racoon could do was stand and watch Baloo, who quickly sat down.

 The bear looked old, a stray thought entered into Eric's head as his precious, solid defense for continuing on, despite everything else, cracked and fell apart.

 His son was out there, the pilot's.

 Emotions, terrible, unwelcome, began filtering through the widening cracks in Eric's soul.

 Sympathy, then the pressing, ugly phantom. Guilt. Strong.

 His fault.

 He'd ignored the dangers in his own frigid, structured universe. And it was his fault.

 He wanted to turn and run away as fast as he could, as the large pilot approached him.

 Him, Eric Baggett, who didn't back away from anything, exept maybe his own humanity.

 Baloo, shaking, thoughts scattered, was practically tearing his cap to pieces. All of the easy-going attitude, even with the previous fear and tension present, was gone.

 Stark horror, Eric was no fool. He knew his own expression matched the bear's perfectly.

 "We need to find Kit......now. An' I jus' wanna get the hell outta here."

 Eric stared at the bear for a minute.

 This place was bad news, always had been. Place of suffering...and now all of his former convictions about gettng involved almost seemed correct.

 "People are crazy...I jus' wanna get Kit _outta_ here, an' I was right. Always right, shoulda never gotten involved...."

 "Baloo....." Silence. Neither could think of anything more to say.

 After a time, Eric looked past the tents to where the sun was setting. It seemed so peaceful and normal......almost mocking, now that he knew what it set on.

 "I've.....never heard 'o anythin' like that in my life....."

 A voice that Eric hadn't heard in a long, long time prodded and poked at him as he saw Baloo's expression twist.

 Even if neither had mentioned Kit, the young man's name hung in the air now.

 Eric....needed to tell the pilot. It could only get worse now....

 "Hey Eric, I, uh....appreciate what ya did for Kit, afore all of this. An' I'm glad fer your help now...." Despite the sincerity in the bear's voice, Eric saw a hard glint of.....some new knowledge, something he hadn't detected before.

 *Need to tell him.....how can you live with yourself? You'd better hope, every hour of every day that that kid is still alive.....it's your conscience*

 Eric hadn't missed it. That voice deep within him that was proof to the fact that he still cared.

 But....still. "It's all right. Better get a movin' outta here. Need to cover new ground."

 Still not strong enough.

 Baloo nodded He felt very tired suddenly.

 "Yeah.......guess so....."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

November 22, 1916

He was just a boy and Eric looked upon him with all of the contempt and wordliness one carries at the far-reaching age of 19, soon to be 20, or so Eric prayed ever morning as he woke to face the rats, filth, stench, itching and lice that was the glory of war.

 But the boy sitting next to him, chattering incessantly, eyes wide, had scarcely entered his teens. Tall, gangly, full of hope and the foolish desire to see what he had been missing these past two years.

 He was fifteen. He'd lied about his age and was now an enlisted man. It didn't really matter, it was getting to the point that those who could make any difference simply looked the other way. They needed the manpower.

 It was enough to sicken Eric.

 The boy, he'd find something......or everything. Everything he'd been sheltered from, soon enough.

 He'd never seen a battle, had never seen or felt what it was to walk through the blinding, searing pain of iron and heat.

 He had latched onto Eric for some unfathomable reason, in spite of, or maybe because of the racoon's non-chalant, cold and distant behavior.

 It was hard to try and break through that icy wall and the boy had been rebuffed time and time again, but Eric was the only one capable of tolerating the lad's unceasing talk, day and night.

 The pup had quickly learned, by cuffs or harsh remarks, what the others thought of his well-meaning, if never-ending advice, quotations and views.

 Eric rolled his eyes, went about his business and gradually, over two week's time, became used to the shadow following him.

 He _did _ have a name, the tagalong. He went by the name of Benjamin, or Benny for short.

 An Uslander, bloody fool, who had left what could have been a life......maybe even a decent future, to cross a border and join this movement which he did not understand, none of them understood. It was his life........or it had been.

 It was now simply left to chance, and it was the most important game that could be played, here in the trenches.

 Eric, at times, couldn't even bring himself to look at the boy, though Benny's prominent accent and periodic slang occasionally broke through his carefully erected shelter with biting irritation.

 *Bloody, ignorant fool........*

 Eric couldn't quite tell the kid to get lost though. Nor could he bring himself to actually go beyond just tolerating the lad and begin to think of him as a friend.

 Benny was only an overly-excited, idealistic, naive kid without any common sense to protect him, and without the self-preservation that would keep him alive.

 *Can't get too close....*

 Though the boy reminded him of someone else he'd once known, gone......changed forever inside the narrow existence of two dirt walls and what lay beyond.

 Eric leaned his head against the hardened wall tiredly, his body sore, yet restless.......anxious.

 The young soldier stared straight ahead fiercely, the thoughts that controlled every emotion and every act creating a turmoil in which Benny's chattering was forever unobserved.

 Another, then another, until there wasn't anything left to throw at either side, and exhaustion would hold the real victory, with the hate and dissatisfaction still boiling and simmering, not to be contained.

 Something broke Eric out of another of his silent contemplations. He wasn't sure what.

 He turned to take a look at Benny, surprised to realize that, for the first time since meeting this individual, this earnest-looking dog of undetermined breed with one ear that always flopped down with insolent regularity, the boy was silent.

 Benny merely stared at Eric for a time, who stared back, wondering what kind of cataclysmic event could have provoked the quiet atmosphere.

 There was something different about Benny's eyes and the dog leaned back, as though he had observed something in Eric's reverie that he had never taken upon himself to notice before.......and it repulsed him.

 But Eric didn't care, there had been times in the past when he himself had felt repulsed. It passed. As did the silence.

 "Hey.......uh Eric?"

 The racoon continued to stare ahead for awhile before clapping a hand over his eyes and answering back, despite his better judgement.

 "What?"

 "Ya never tol' me, but didja ever go out there.......out where's they say there ain't no comin' back from?"

 Slowly the young soldier turned his head to make eye-contact once more.

 Benny, in spite of his height and his usually self-confident mannerisms, just looked like a frightened kid, unsure of what he'd come here to find......for the first time, with the grayness and the bleak silence, it affected even him.

 "A few times" The racoon's clipped replies didn't deter Benny in the slightest.

 "W-Were you ever scared? I m-mean, I won't think less o' ya, but it j-just seems......" the stammering, the poorly-veiled nature of the questions, all seemed to put Benny on a new level, and all at once he was just another scared soldier, without the burning idealism or the jaunty sense of adventurism.

 Eric chuckled softly, then gradually he found himself bending over, laughing loudly.

 Benny grinned uneasily, no quite able to share in Eric's laughter. It certainly wasn't contagious.

 *He won't think less of me. That I was terrified, well......that's a relief to be sure.......wait'll it's _his_ turn* Eric's eyes turned hard in a flash.

 "Just wait lad, after your first go at things, I guarantee you won't be askin' me any more 'o these questions. Fear's just a way 'o life here, tha's all. Can't even be called an emotion any longer."

 Benny's grin slowly faded, his expression seemed completely mistified. In spite of himself, in spite of everything, Eric almost.....hoped it would stay way.

 Quickly, the racoon stared forward once again, leaving Benny's contemplative mood and uncharacteristic inquiries behind.

 Shrugging suddenly, Benny moved on, such was his nature, thinking of another story that would crack that old curmudgeon's shell. *Something _had_ to penetrate sooner or later.*

 Eric reverted back into himself amidst the familiar sound of Benny's prattling........

 With a start, the soldier jerked awake, astounded to see only darkness, and feeling only the freezing air. It took a moment to realize that he'd fallen asleep.

 A slight snore from beside him, along with Benny's head lolling unsteadily against the wall, without any kind of support, indicated the boy was in the same frame of mind he'd been in, and had unconsciously fallen asleep.

 Most could sleep in any position, regardless of how uncomfortable, for hours.

 But the sounds coming from the boy were not what had woke him. A single shot, clear as a bell in the cold night air, rang out again.

 Sniper fire. Instinctively, Eric stood up, but ducked his head, standing in the middle of the trench, listening.....

 The sandbags that lined the tops of the trenches were supposed to provide adequate protection. But still, protecting oneself was certainly a simple reaction.

 Another shot rang out, followed by two more, a strange, lonely succession.

 Eric could still detect no motion or any kind of disheartening sound that indicated that the snipers were having any success.

 The firing stopped. So did the sounds that indicated sleep close by as Benny rubbed one eye drowsily and looked around, momentarily disoriented.

 Eric's back was to him and the dog stretched and yawned before getting to his feet. A small hole in the barrier, a tiny place where the sandbags allowed the enemy to break through, even if for four years they could break through nowhere else.

 A shot, clear and echoing. Eric whirled around as he saw Benny hit the opposite side of the wall with a yelp of pain.

 A shocked expression was the most noticeable thing on his young face as Benny gingerly touched his shoulder and winced before looking over at Eric, who was unknowingly shaking and breathing hard.

 The boy's face was pale and drawn, his eyes continued to focus on Eric's and the racoon felt something rather unwelcome, if not completely alien. Pity, compassion even.

 Benny began to talk nonsense, short phrases mostly, he didn' t appear to be a bold adventurer now......he had never appeared so to Eric.

 He just looked the same way he must have felt and Eric felt his pity turn to pain.

 He understood what it was to feel that way. .

 Eric knelt in front of the boy and lightly probed the shoulder. Benny, sweat pouring down his face, gasped.

 "I-I've been hit, never thought it would happen, 'specially not this quick, but it's over.......I'm headin' out ta get my wings....."

 "Benny....."

 "Gonna be pluckin' a harp, look fer me up there boys......I've played my last number, don't know how my ma's gonna take it...."

 "Benny, for hell's......"

 "Break it to her gently, wouldja? She's kinda sensitive.....an' don't tell her nothin' if she's got blasted rollin' pin with her."

 Eric rolled his eyes skyward and began to tear off a bit of his uniform. He began to wrap the injured shoulder .

 *Even now......he won't stop.....*

 "It's a nick, tha's all. Barely a scratch. But if you don't learn from it, next time it'll be someplace you'll find that you're gonna need some time, an' in your case I'm not talkin' about your head"

 Benny stopped at the harsh words. He'd never heard that long of a speech from Eric before.

 Sobering, Benny forced himself to look at the shoulder.

 "I'm gonna bleed to death by mornin'" he said mournfully, fishing for sympathy.

 "I lost more blood when my first tooth came out....."

 Eric finished tying the bandage and helped the boy to his feet.

 "Keep your head low, an' go report to the med officer. Maybe you'll get a chance to meet up with one o' the nurses back at the nearest town."

 Benny slowly grinned as Eric winked at him. The dog made his way down the trench before finally vanishing in the darkness.

 Eric sat down, rubbing his arms and blowing on his hands, finally able to feel the frigid air's affects on him. He could scarcely believe what had just happened.

 Had he really said that? Even joked around like that?! Since when did he allow anything to get through? He couldn't allow it.....never.

 But, he had.

 Sighing deeply and covering his eyes with his hands, the racoon put his head down on his knees.

 It seemed he couldn't win. 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

April 22, 1945

Throughout the years, the appearance of the room had changed slowly, maturing, but the sound of a soothing waterfall and the bright lights that twinkled like old friends remained the same.

 Molly, staring at her reflection, one elbow propped up on her dresser, was thinking with disgust that she still looked the same way she did when they had first come here, with the exception of some added height and a long, blonde braid that hung carelessly down her back.

 The girl scowled darkly, the mirror imitating her sour expression perfectly.

 Molly sighed and lightly pinched one cheek, observing with disgust the child-like dimples that were still present.

 She rubbed both cheeks vigorously and observed the result. The added color prompted a smile from the girl, but she needed something more, like on her eyes, or.......

 A mischievious smile crossed her face as the girl tip-toed across the carpet to lightly shut the door, hearing her mother's tired but muted voice from the inside of her room, speaking to someone, probably another person to help find Kit.

 Molly grasped the doorknob suddenly as a wave of pain hit her. She shut her eyes tightly.

 Kit......why did she have to think of that right now? *Why did Kit leave?*

 It seemed, sometimes, like bad things always happened when he left.

 She missed him, the talks, the jokes they shared.....no one else seemed to care or treated her like anything else but a little kid.

 Even her mom really didn't understand.

 Molly sat back down in front of her mirror, sighing once more, her breath a little shaky.

 She had cried every day, but today she would make it.......or not.

 A single tear slid down as Molly looked at one of the many pictures taped to the mirror. Kit, with one arm around her, winking at the camera as she grinned.

 It had only been a year ago, and he had been so nice......he was always so nice. She'd only wanted it taken.....well, she really didn't know why.

 *Maybe to brag?*

 No way, even if all of her friends did think he was so handsome, and so dashing....on and on, until Molly had thought she'd be sick.

 Kit was just a friend, someone she'd pretty much grown up with, she couldn't think of him any other way. But.......sometimes.......

 She wished he didn't look at her like she was his little sister.

 Sometimes she really thought he was kind of cute. Shaking her head, Molly focused her gaze out of the window before looking down at her hands, trying to focus her thoughts.

 He would come back......that's what her mother kept saying.

 But it was the times she caught her mom staring out of the window, looking so sad, or the tension in Baloo's voice when he called, despite his cheery tone.

 These were all what put doubts in her head. It frightened her.

 They didn't have to try and hide it from her......she understood.

 Sniffling and opening her dresser drawer, Molly looked back to her tear-stained reflection. She had no choice but to try and understand.

 Glancing at the door with sudden apprehension, Molly pursed her lips, not quite sure of what she was doing.

 She'd never tried it before.

 Steadying her hand and closing one eye, she began. Molly thought she was making pretty good progress considering, when she heard the doorknob turn....then, she froze.

 The door creaked open and Rebecca's soft footsteps came half-way into her room. "Molly sweetie, are you all right? The door was cl-"

 Rebecca stopped suddenly, a shocked expression on her face. Molly turned around, not looking her mother in the eye, but staring down at her feet with scrutinized interest.

 Quick as a flash, she put the condemning object behind her back.

 "Molly..........Elizabeth.........Cunningham, how could you do this to me?"

 "Mom......"

 "I mean, haven't I given you privacy? And haven't I tried to bring you up right?!"

 "But Mom......"

 "I know it wasn't easy......but for you to do _this_!!"

 "Mom, would you......" Molly scowled and finally met her mom's gaze, biting her bottom lip self-consciously.

 "Young lady, I am so disappointed in you, I just don't know what to say....."

 "Mom!!"

 "Come on, let me see your left hand"

 Quickly Molly switched the troublesome thing to another hand and obeyed as best she could, considering.

 "Your _other_ left" Rebecca folded her arms and gave her daughter that look that Molly knew too well. Slowly, ever so slowly, the girl held it out by the tips of her fingers.

 "What made you think to do this, Molly?!" Rebecca held the object out as though it would bite her.

 "Mom, all of the other girls...."

 "You are not all of the other girls......did someone put you up to this, huh?! Or is it just a fad.....disgusting, that's what. Let me tell you, I would never have pulled a stunt like this......I-"

 Sighing, Rebecca looked over at her daughter helplessly.

 "Mom, it's only a tube of lipstick.......it's not the end of the world"

 It was for Rebecca, fair or not. It showed that one child was gone, and she didn't know how to bring him back, and the other was slipping away from her, day by day.....growing up.

 "You are too young for this......uh, young lady. Wipe that stuff off. I don't need this. Unless I say otherwise, you do _not_ bring anything else like this into my home until I say you are good and ready.....and not before!!"

 Molly opened her mouth to protest, having already wiped the added color off, but the unsteady expression on her mother's face sent jabs of guilt through her.

 "I'm sorry....." she said as the door slammed suddenly.

 Molly felt rooted to the spot. She didn't mean any harm, really.

 She.....she just wanted to look older, she was tired of being the little girl that no one saw or noticed anymore. She lightly pressed an ear to the door, the sounds coming from the outside of it alarming her.

 She didn't think it would bother her mom so much. She was kind of......over-reacting, right?

 Molly felt very lost suddenly as she carefully walked down the now-darkened hallway into the living room. She leaned against the corner wall, watching her mother sob quietly on the couch.

 It was a rare thing to see Rebecca lost any kind of control. Molly felt her heart tug at her to see her mom crying like that.

 "Mom.....I'm sorry, really" Molly remained very still as Rebecca brought her head up quickly.

 "I-I won't do it again" Hearing her voice begin to break, the girl trudged over to the couch to sit next to the businesslady, who put an arm around her and hugged her tightly.

 Rebecca seemed......and sounded, far-away as she absently answered.

 "That's okay, honey. It really wasn't that.....I over-reacted and I didn't mean to scold you" Rebecca's eyes were focused on the far wall, but Molly knew she didn't see it.

 "Baby, I think I need to tell you something" Molly sat very still as tears began streaming down her mom's face.

 "Sweetie, you know Baloo and I......we would do everything we possibly could to, to keep you and Kit safe." Molly found herself nodding, though the pain left her breathless.

 She couldn't recall her mother talking about the four of them that way before........like a, family.

 "Hon, Baloo's frustrated. I can't imagine what else he must be feeling. I'm frustrated too, I guess......" Molly didn't interrupt the momentary silence, nor did she understand it's cause.

 "There hasn't been any luck trying to find Kit. There's just so much going on over there. You've been very lucky. Your friends were too young. But......there were a lot of young men....."

 Rebecca stopped again, pacing herself, exhausted at the weight of her words.

 "Molly, there's a very good chance that Kit won't be coming back." Molly was crying terribly, although it was not unexpected news. To hear her mother say it though. Rebecca never gave up......

 "They've tried, and they'll keep trying. But.......there's been a lot of terrible things that have been happening over there. I-I had no idea, even a few weeks ago. Something could have happened. We're not giving up...."

 Rebecca finally met Molly's gaze and hugged her as tightly as she could. "I just wanted you to know the truth."

 The waterfall, the lights of Cape Suzette........the world at war, finally coming to an end. But the real battle was the one that the two inhabitants of the darkened apartment were facing.

 For them, for hundreds like them, the struggle was personal......and it could never end with treaties or surrenders. It went on.

 Molly continued to sob as Rebecca held her, crying herself. Finally catching her breath, the girl began rubbing her eyes frantically, trying to talk about.........something else she still didn't understand.

 "Mom?"

 "Yeah sweetie?" Rebecca brushed some hair off of her daughter's forehead.

 "When......when you fell in love with Dad......how did you know?" Rebecca froze, caught completely off guard.

 She looked at Molly increduously, trying to find her voice before attempting to answer.

 "I-I....well......I" Rebecca rubbed her forehead for a moment.

 "He was......very kind. He was a very good, gentle man. He always.....treated me like I was special. I don't remember him ever saying an unkind thing. He was a good person. That meant a great deal to me. I think I loved him for his heart, the way he treated people. I realized it when I felt.....less complete. Like a better part of me was missing when he wasn't there. Why.........do you......feel.....that way about, uh Kit?"

 There was no humor, nothing demeaning in the question. Rebecca seemed very uneasy about asking it in the first place. It was so very personal.

 And she thought of these two as.....her's, well, one was. It wasn't easy to think of them as anything else.

 The woman's eyes were very, very sad as she looked at her daughter, realizing how foolish all of her hopes were, that Molly could be spared the kind of torment that she had once gone through.

 The girl looked down. "Everybody loves Kit......y'know, it's just him"

 Rebecca sighed, and rubbed the back of her neck. "I know, but.....do you think......it's something, different, with you?"

 "I don't know...." she mumbled. "I......thought-"

 Rebecca didn't push her and Molly's voice was very unsteady, the tears heart-wrenching when she looked up again.

 "I think.....I want to be, but I just hope I can find.....somebody like him, don't you Mom?"

 Rebecca wiped some tears off of her daughter's face gently, realizing for the millionth time how beautiful Molly was becoming, every hour, every day.

 "Here's hoping sweetie." 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 December 18, 1916

Clear and beautiful, like a ghost or a faint reminder of another age..

 A voice was what it was, singing a Christmas carol. It swept across the shell-marked landscape and left a searing pain which gradually subsided to an always present ache in Eric's heart.

 And he now knew of it's existence, despite everything that had tried to take it from him.

 He stood silently, as men ceased their preparations all around him.

 The voice wrapped itself around everything and the beauty of it allowed everyone to be transported to another time, in a house, lit with candles, and the snow, a source of joy, instead of endless misery.

 It dd not matter what side, where the home happened to be, or in what form the memory existed.

 It rose above the trenches to secure those not quite ready for their journey into No Man's Land.

 A smile crossed Eric's face as he heard a low whistle from behind him. "Sure is nice, ain't it?"

 The lad had a knack for the understatement.

 Benny folded up the letters he had been scribbling on and added them to the others, placing the awkward bundle in his pocket before staring at his hands, fiddling with the buttons on his uniform.

 Eric propped an elbow on the dirt wall to rest his weight and stare down at the boy. By afternoon, a minor offensive would be under way.

 There hadn't been any major units spotted around here for quite some time....so unless they were buried or dug in for the duration, the resistance should be minimum.

 But Benny was obviously nervous, though he forcefully tried to hide it.

 Couldn't show his anxiety in front of these boys, especially not with the insufferable swaggering he had shamelessly displayed along with his rapidly healing wound.

 Eric had watched him good-naturedly, allowing the dog's antics to distract him from the nagging worry and eventual sickening dread that always accompanied and took control of his emotions before going out into that war-zone.

 He'd heard all of their excuses and rationalizations before, but he could not explain the fierce resentment that coursed through him

 The anger that kept him warm, when nothing else could.

 Benny kept taking his letters out and putting them back in his pocket. Eric watched him, knowing what was on the boy's mind but allowing him to form the words he needed.

 "It's true, huh Eric?" Benny didn't look up.

 "Yeah....but not everythin'' the racoon heard the words but felt detached from the whole situation. The unspoken resignation, painful in it's complexity, said more than Eric could.

 "Never got a chance to mail these, if they had extended my leave the dirty....." on and on, Benny used some phrases that would have made a sailor blush.

 "It's not too bad. You'll mail them when you get back....." Eric folded his arms and stood, his back against the trench wall, fervently wishing he could think of a better lie than that.

 Silence.

 Eric cleared his throat suddenly. Benny looked up at the muttering, as Eric mentally kicked himself for saying it in the first place.

 "I appreciate it......"

 "Yeah, sure......"

 Silence again.

 Benny had already asked all of the appropriate questions that could be used here.

 Family, sweethearts, the future.......they belonged to nights of boredom and hope, not here.

 All that belonged here was resignation and Eric had fought it with more energy than he had. It still reigned supreme. The call, it would come soon.

 Now they were crouching in the position at the edge of the farthest trench wall, like sprinters about to run, by far, their most difficult race.

 Benny yelled something to Eric as the shelling began and the awkward bundle found it's way into the racoon's hands.

 The whistle blew.......he had dropped them......_how_ could he have dropped them?

 Up and over, did Eric remember to tell the kid not to look to his left or his right? It was too unnerving, just run, it didn't matter where.

 Bullets rang out, still they kept running, Eric saw his destination, felt the anger, then the adrenalin, and he was there.

 Blinking, shocked he saw.......men all around him. By the stars, his own unit!! A few missing, but Benny clapped his shoulder, hooting and waving his gun.

 Cheers rose up from the taken trench and men waved their arms wildly. Eric continued to look around him in a daze, then slowly, a wide grin overtook his features.

 They had made it.

 Perhaps.....he had been wrong. Maybe there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and they could find a way out of this abyss that had surrounded them for so long.

 Eric yelled and cheered with the rest of them, slapping Benny on the back as the kid shouted out unintelligable phrases to ears that could not possibly hear it over the noise.

 Then.....the real battle began.

 Most didn't even see where the shells had hit, but suddenly, Eric found himself attempting to breath through layers of dirt, the trench collapsing, falling to pieces over his head.

 Clawing his way to the surface frantically, he felt an arm.......and pulled as hard as he could.

 Benny emerged with him as both coughed and sputtered, gasping, not daring to look at the flattened landscape that had once been lined with trenches.

 Eric didn't want to think of the ones that had been occupied.

 Pushing and pulling, oblivious to the explosions, all the while trying to control his fear or at least, his flashbacks that plagued him, of other times, just like this one.

 It was all too familiar. He pulled Benny to his feet violently slapping the boy's back as the dog continued to choke on the soil he had accidentally breathed in.

 Eric grabbed his friend's elbow and began to run, not hearing Benny's protests, not caring.

 He had to reach their own trench, if it still existed.

 Benny stumbled and tripped, sometimes letting the racoon drag him along. Eric realized that the kid was probably badly hurt, but all that mattered was reaching a place of relative safety.

 He felt a sharp sting as barb-wire easily sliced through the material of his uniform.

 Scornfully he kicked it away, then began the torturous task of untangling Benny, who did what he could to help before finally fading to unconsciousness.

 Eric cursed and screamed at the boy after finally disengaging him from the menace that lay everywhere, all around them. Still, Benny would not get up and run.

 Eric continued to drag him, far past where their original trench should have been, but was no longer. He continued, he wanted to reach the blackened grove that could offer some shelter, if it was still there by the time he reached it.

 Shells came frighteningly close, kicking up gravel, allowing him to acknowledge their presence by the shrill sound, the bits of sky that cut into him at times as they fell, and landed.

 Then, nothing..........  The lights were bright and painful.

 Eric's body was sore, and he opened his eyes to see a pretty, young nurse standing over him with a damp rag, wiping his forehead.

 He immediately thought of Benny, how the kid must be enjoying this kind of treatment.  Too bad he himself was already engaged.

 These kind of thoughts, instead of cheering him up, seemed grotesque.

 "How are you feeling?" She had a soft voice, like his Victoria, but it still carried authority.

 "How's my friend?" He countered, not caring that he had made it.

 He always made it. It was his lot in life, he supposed.

 "I don't know your friend" she stated in that patronizing tone all the nurses used.

 "Young boy? Tall....y'know. Whoever found me must've....." Eric trailed off as a deep sadness filled the nurse's eyes, overflowing onto her cheeks.

 *Well, blast it! Hadn't meant to make her cry.*

 "You were the only one brought here. I don't believe anyone else was found....."

 She didn't actually say it. For even that much, Eric was grateful.

 Tell my ma.......

 How could he? He couldn't find his friend's letters, and.........and he had foolishly, so stupidly allowed himself to care.

 He was so young.....how could Eric look at this world around him without spitting on it?

 How could he ever tell another family, then another.....that someone they watched for was never coming back.

 It just went on, he was sickened, he couldn't do this.

 He was responsible, maybe if he had been able to reach the trees, maybe if he'd gone in another direction.

 They would condemn him, he condemned himself.

 His responsibility.