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.

April 24, 1945

Kit was never more relieved to see the sun go down.

 Never, never in all of his wretched memories of going without food and shelter, of being the street urchin without a place to call home or worse.....without anyone who cared, had he ever experienced anything like the past few days.

 The young pilot had completely lost track of the hours......of anything.

 He had never felt so lost or so misplaced as he had searching desperately for food, after a completely disheartening and fruitless search for Robert, whom he'd not been able to locate, under or anywhere near that pile of rubble that had once been a hospital.

 He'd searched until he could no longer move, his pain-wracked body giving out on him, for one full day.

 The day he really remembered, a sunrise and a sunset. Then.......darkness.

 He remembered vaguely trying to crawl for a distance.

 Occasionally he would black out, his physical condition not allowing him to do all the things he needed to do, let alone wanted to do.

 He didn't know this city, it was a death-trap anyway.

 Once in a while he would hear a call, or someone crying loudly, but he saw so few people that it barely registered.

 Besides, Kit was dangerously thin, skin and bones. Tall and gangly, the lack of food had certainly taken it's toll on his appearance. It actually helped him to blend in with the filthy, fatigued individuals who walked around him as though they were in a dream.

 Kit couldn't remember any of their faces, it was enough of a challenge to keep moving.

 The scraps of food he was able to find to keep him from collapsing completely should not have been fit for consumption under any circumstance, but his body craved only the food, and sporadic rest.

 Frankly the young man didn't know for how long he'd be able to keep it up. The constant bombardment, the overall atmosphere of terror that prevailed everywhere, and the unspoken phantom......

 The Thembrians were coming.

 The few stragglers that Kit noticed in the corner of his mind seemed frightened, all were going somewhere else.....hiding, even if the blocked off city offered no escape.

 Not even for him. If any of these citizens recognized the emblem on his uniform, they didn't show it. All that mattered, was survival...

 He'd seen older women, teenagers, children, all dirty and terrified. Some had a gray, bleak expression, they were the ones who had given up and would place themselves on the mercy of those who would eventually take this city.

 Occasionally a clear, penetrating thought would make it through Kit's mental fog of hunger and pain. Like in the hospital.....God, they were all so very young? Was what Robert said true?

 Was this all that was left? Then......how could he blame them? How could they then be his enemy? Hadn't they suffered as much as the ones who were fighting against them? Lost as much?

 Yet.....no one on the other side had committed such atrocities as the vague, faceless rumors that had chilled his blood, right?

 Then again, the Thembrians, for all of his admiration of their bravery and determination, their ability to turn the tide of the war, well......to be honest, their past and their _glorious_ cause wasn't exactly what one would call humane.

 The young pilot didn't need this confusion. What he really needed was someplace to sleep, a decent meal, even some medication for his constant pain, in his ribs, in his head.

 But the thoughts wouldn't release him. And he was, unfortunately, aware of them, even if at times he was aware of nothing else.

 A sharp pain, easily recognizable now, hit him in the gut and Kit felt a wave of dizziness hit him. No luck today, finding anything......today, how many days since he'd crashed? Since he'd seen Baloo and Rebecca?

 In spite of himself, homesickness overwhelmed him.

 More than anything else, he wanted to go home. He no longer felt cowardly or responsible.

 He felt as insignificant as anything possibly could under these circumstances.

 This didn't look good........he'd been unsuccessful in finding anything to eat today. It showed.

 Hysterics, an emotion completely foreign to him hovered around the edges of his subconscious. He had to find something, or he wouldn't make it.

 The young pilot sat down on the curb of the street, rubble and dust all around him. He'd become so accustomed to it, he barely noticed anymore.

 Without thinking about it, the bear put a hand on his head, remembering suddenly what was there. He'd found the hat in the crumbled remains of the hospital.

 Any other sign of Robert though.....completely gone.

 Kit had barely registered in that place that he'd been wearing his uniform, still was wearing it actually, though it had certanly seen better days.

 Thinking, remembering....the young man simply sat there, not noticing the hours that slipped by, his body now too exhausted even to cry out for food.

 There wasn't anything around here, anyway.

 All Kit wanted was to sit and lose himself for an instant.

 For once, just once, he would give in and not try to see the bright side of things.

 It seemed completely hopeless, and he was beyond feeling any desire to fight against the devastation that was sucking him in.

 Opening a floodgate, several memories confronted the pilot. One seemed so recent, he could remember every detail of it.~

Kit stood at the door of Higher for Hire and gulped.

 He'd known he was supposed to check in, call.......something.....but, he was 16! And for most of his life he'd acted like an adult anyway.......so why _should_ he feel guilty for wanting to spend some time with his friends?

 He was just acting like.......like a typical teenager, right? That was what Becky......er, Miz Cunningham, Kit corrected himself not wanting to break too many boundaries too quickly, and Baloo were always telling him to do.

 Kit put a hand on the doorknob, he took if off quickly, as though it had burned him.

 _Why_ was he feeling this way? Just.......just because technically Baloo was his dad, that didn't mean their relationship had changed that much since he'd first met him.

 Kit winced. The pilot was going to be livid, there was no fooling himself. But......Kit was growing up, and he had the right to hang out with anybody he darned well pleased, for as long as he wanted.

 The boy put a hand back on the doorknob, taking a deep breath, steadying himself.

 *Dammit! Faced pirates, storms.....everything! Shouldn't feel this way........* How did he feel?

 Guilty, doggone it, especially after glancing at his watch.

 10:37.......not too late, but still, it _was_ much, much later than he was usually. And he hadn't bothered to let anyone here know where he was either. That didn't exactly help matters.

 Kit gritted his teeth and pushed the door open. Absolute silence ensued in the room as Baloo jumped out of the arm-chair, losing several years on his face in one minute.

 Kit looked at him sheepishly before shutting the door quietly and turning around, angry at his shame.

 He turned back as he heard.....Miz Cunningham's voice?

 It was a little shaky, well....actually quite angry. Kit heard her mutter into the phone.

 "Never mind.....he's here now. Yes, thank you, sorry to have bothered you." The phone was slammed back down again in fury.

 Kit took his baseball cap off, habitually grasping it and twisting it tightly. This didn't look good, what was Miz Cunningham still doing here?

 Baloo crossed his arms and leaned against Rebecca's desk. That particular lady placed both arms down on the same desk.

 Both directed two very angry glances at the young man standing in the middle of the room.

 "In case yer wonderin' Britches, she came on over when I got desperate an' couldn't think of anyone else ta call, not that I know about a whole heap 'o options anyway. Got kindof worried when you didn't come home, so........."

 Kit swallowed. It shouldn't have surprised him that Baloo knew he'd been thinking. He should be used to it.......but it could be unnerving at times.

 "I-I'm sorry......where's Molly?" Kit forced his voice to remain level, steady.

 "_Molly_ is with Wildcat. I brought her. I couldn't very well leave her alone, not even after I get another phone call about you being missing!"

 Kit scowled. He wasn't used to hearing that sharp edge in Miz Cunningham's voice. At least, he wasn't used to it being directed towards him.

 He felt a stab of annoyance. Baloo spoke up.

 "Where were you Kit? An' it better be good, especially after what you've put us through."

 The words grated against Kit full-force, almost more so than Baloo's tone. "I was with some friends..."

 Unconsciously Kit also folded his arms, his expression matching Baloo's.

 "Uh....um, I think you both ov-over-reacted...." the words were out, Kit couldn't take them back, not that he really wanted to at the moment.

 It wasn't.....disrespectful. This time the boy felt that it was true.

 Rebecca countered this time.

 "Kit, do you honestly expect us not to worry? Especially with.......things that have happened before?"

 Kit finally lost his temper, a rare event when it came to Rebecca.

 "What?! Do I have a record around here now?!!"

 "Kit....we were jus' worried....."

 "For cryin' out loud, both of you! I'm 16!! I lived on my own a long time before I ever came here. You shouldn't fly off of the handle every time I don't act like the perfect little kid you both want me to be!!"

 Baloo's hands dropped as he opened his mouth to speak. Rebecca beat him to it.

 "We have a right to worry, just like you have an obligation to try and have some consideration for our feelings. Really......how could you make us worry....not even letting us know anything?"

 Baloo had an eyebrow raised at Rebecca's constant we's and us'. It wasn't exactly unpleasant for him to hear it..

 "You......you know better, and it doesn't matter how old you are, we're still going to worry......"

 "She's right, Kit" Baloo added. For one moment, Rebecca looked over at him and gave him a small smile.

 Finally, something they could both agree on out in the open.

 The navigator felt as though he was being ganged up on by both adults.

 He started to shake, a typical reaction for him whenever he let his anger take over.

 "What you did was irresponsible, then you turn around an' git all defensive jus' because we happen to worry, an' you happened to mess up. Even if it was jus' tonight......you need ta remember that ya still live here.....an' not forget it when it all convenient for ya"

 Baloo and Rebecca's twin expressions of superiority completely enraged Kit.

 He was old enough to think and make decisions for himself.

 He didn't like being accused or being told that he "messed up", like he was some troublemaker who didn't know how to do one thing right.

 Before he realized it Kit had stomped over to the bottom of the stairs, still ready for a fight.

 Rebecca and Baloo looked very tired as the large bear helped her with her coat.

 For some reason, their casual acceptance of things, even their letting the fight go as though it was inevitable that they would encounter it infuriated Kit even more.

 "You both....." the boy began, his teeth clenched, "are not in any position to tell me what I can or can't do. I'm old enough to leave this place whenever I want...I don't need you condescending attitude..."

 "Kit, watch it...." Baloo's tone held a note of warning at Kit's vocabulary but the boy kept going, despite the look on Rebecca's face.

 "And I don't need your rules. If you don't trust me, then I don't have any reason to try and make you. Just get off of my back......I-I don't think it was ever either of your places to try and tell me what to do. I'm the one who's always gotta fix things with _you_...."

 Baloo almost flinched as Kit pointed at him. "An' your supposed to be my dad?! Why don't you act like it!"

 "Kit!!" Rebecca gasped. The cub felt something give in inside of him, but still his anger remained in control.

 "I always have to tear you two apart, so how am I supposed to take anything you say seriously?! I'm tired of first having to fix things when both of you 'mess up', then having to turn around and follow your rules when I don't respect either one of you....."

 Kit was stomping up the stairs. He could not believe that those words had actually come out of his mouth.

 So many times, he couldn't even count them actually, he'd wanted to say something, anything, about how frustrated and tired it made him feel when these two put him in that all too familiar position.

 Instead of release however.....he felt indescribably worse. The tension of the room wouldn't let him walk away.

 Well why hadn't he just ripped both of their hearts out and stomped on them.

 Kit turned when he heard Baloo's footsteps behind him.

 He felt......bad, terrible. Just words, and they didn't begin to go into how sorry he was. Even worse still, though, was the fact that no one there could deny the element of truth in his outburst.

 He'd never wanted to let either of them know how much it bothered him at times. They....they weren't perfect.

 But he loved them.

 He loved them both......very, very much. They were the only family he'd every really known. But there was also his pride, that horrible trait that he just couldn't allow himself to give up.

 Finally, the cub turned around. Rebecca was wiping her eyes with a tissue. Kit felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach.

 He'd made Miz Cunningham cry.....and it was certainly on purpose this time.

 Baloo looked sad as he stared down at his navigator. Kit's guilt showed on his face so plainly that the bear really didn't expect an apology. He knew that the boy just had a great deal of emotional baggage at times.

 He also knew that Kit was right. And it made the large pilot feel totally helpless. If he wasn't in any position to guide Kit, or tell him what he thought the boy needed to do.....then what _was_ to be done?

 Regardless of whether Baloo or Rebecca were expecting it. Kit stammered, trying to find his voice, before finally saying,

 "Papa Bear? I-I didn't m-mean that. R-really, I'm sorry. I don't want......"

 Kit's voice broke, but neither Baloo nor Rebecca leaned over to hug him. They let him have his distance this time, despite how difficult it was.

 But Kit had crossed a line. He was growing up. And this one time, he needed to move on and find his own strength and support.

 "I j-just want you b-both to be proud of....."

 "We are honey" Rebecca stood at the foot of the stairs, her heart melting at Kit's expression. Gone was the tough, teenager attitude.

 He looked sad.....even a little lost.

 He had no idea of the power of his words. How much they had hurt.

 Or maybe he did, but couldn't face them right now.

 He couldn't take them back. Baloo and Rebecca had perhaps provoked it, but what he said opened up some new doors.

 Kit finally managed to stutter and blurt out a promise to always call, let them know, etc., etc.

 He even apologized again, saying good-bye to Rebecca as she left with her daughter.

 That lady felt a stab of pain, familiar. She recognized the heart-felt emotion that Kit managed to wear on his sleeve. It was worse now.

  She comforted him as best she knew how, then regrettably left, not knowing how the two individuals that remained behind would handle things now.

 Baloo was about to learn a bitter lesson. Rebecca closed her eyes for a moment.

 He'd probably already learned it. His expression when he'd looked at Kit.....

 With a sigh, the businesslady headed home.

 There wasn't much to be said at Higher for Hire after Miz Cunningham had left.

 Baloo seemed far away, and Kit had learned to dread the bear's mood whenever he got like that.

 It was too easy for the pilot to remain in his rut.......and now more than ever, Kit didn' t know how to get him out.

 He said he was sorry one more time, then Kit had walked up the stairs, knowing that he'd hurt Baloo with more than just his words, but not knowing how to make things better.

 The boy couldn't have known the pain the gray bear was feeling at finally realizing that Kit needed space.....and he needed room to grow up.

 Baloo followed his navigator up the stairs, turning off the light as both climbed into their own beds. Kit closed his eyes tightly, unable to block out his own accusing voice.

 His words, they hung in the air all around him..

 It would take some time for them to dissappear. Kit heard Baloo's bed creak as the large pilot got out of it and stepped over to him.

 "Li'l Britches......"

 "Yeah, Baloo?" Kit's voice was still unsteady.

 "Forgit about what happened tonight. I know what ya said was said jus' cause you were mad. Everyone does stuff like that once in a while.....I love ya, you know that?"

 Kit nodded, hugging the bear tightly, who gladly returned the embrace, feeling as though there was a vice around his heart.

 He'd really taken for granted all of the times when Kit was younger, and not worried about such displays of affection.

 Baloo felt a twinge at what was now gone.

 "Kit.....no matter what.....I'll always forgive ya. Ok? You're.....er, my son. I'm guessin' that means something."

 Kit nodded. He hoped that all of this would pass, but he would never forget. Not the words he'd said, or what Baloo was telling him now. Never forget.~

It was dark. Did Kit really care? No.....but it was cold, and his body needed food, though the constant discomfort in his stomach had not yet reached that level of agony that he identified with danger.

 There were different degrees of suffering....and starvation.

 But he needed to keep moving. Staying in one place here was exceedingly dangerous.

 As though in answer to his thoughts, Kit heard the familiar whistling. Shells.....bombardment.....incoming.

 The building behind him collapsed in a dazzling display of shattered glass and crumbling walls, the foundation even seemed to dissolve in on itself.

 Kit found himself being knocked off of his feet. His body, especially his poor, mistreated ribcage, cried out in protest as he made contact with the hard cement.

 Sharp stings occassionally bit at him, as the glass made contact. Kit didn't have the energy to run, so he dove for the nearest shelter he could.

 A building only a few feet away from the crumbling mess that had been hit suddenly erupted into flames. Kit watched with horrified fascination as the fire retreated then exploded with devastating fury.

 All along the block, buildings were going up. Now, all of the ones whom he'd never encountered, all of those who had huddled in one of these death-traps, hoping to get lucky each time that shrieking, shrill warning went over their heads, came running out.

 There was screaming, crying out, mayhem everywhere. Kit felt himself being joustled, yet no one offered to help him along.

 People were running for their lives, nearly running the young pilot over as he struggled to stem the tide of frantic individuals who were threatening to trample him.

 Kit found himself being pushed down the street, regardless of whether he wanted to go there or not, but he didn't mind, as long as he didn't trip or lose his balance.

 He could think of few things worse than being crushed by several apathetic feet who would not care, if they even remembered, what had happened.

 At least this way he was actually moving away from the scene, but it seemed as though the bombs and the shelling were following them.

 Kit heard a low buzzing, and recognized the sound's origin immediately. Three B-24 Liberators that looked as though they were right on top of him showed themselves, then gained altitude as more buildings seemed to disappear into clouds of dust and debris.

 Strategic bombing......Kit never thought he'd be victim to it. .

 The former navigator was pushed along for a time before finally being shoved completely out of the crowd, stumbling and gasping onto the sidewalk, trying to catch his breath.

 The young pilot placed his hands on his knees, waging a war with his own body, trying to will himself to stay conscious, though he kept blacking out.

 Kit awkwardly half-walked half-crawled over to the bombed out structure behind him, placing a hand on the wall.

 Even that could be decieving as Kit felt himself fall over, coughing as the bricks gave in, some falling from above, painfully hitting his back and legs.

 The young man tried to wipe the dust out of his eyes, cursing at his luck, when he heard some light crying and some much sterner shushing from inside the pitch-black enclosure.

 Squinting and pushing the hair out of his eyes, Kit gradually saw some shapes emerge before his eyes. There were five children sitting there, four of whom didn't look to be older than ten.

 Two boys, three girls, all dirty, bone-thin and frightened, with huge eyes. The youngest, a small boy was sniffling.

 But Kit let all of his attention rest on the girl standing in front of the small group.

 She looked to be in her mid to late teens. She was filthy and bruised, with a hard scowl on her face. She......was the ringleader.

 All of the children were wearing clothes that looked as though they'd seen better days, but the quality was still apparent.

 Whatever situation they were in now, they hadn't been in it for very long.

 Kit slowly tried to get up, realizing how ridiculous he must look sprawled out like that.

 Two of the children whimpered as he took another step inside. The girl, it was a safe assumption too that she was the oldest, stepped closer to Kit.

 Her face didn't look any better when it was twisted with hatred like that.

 She began to scream and yell at the young man pointing outside from time to time.

 Although Kit didn't understand a word of what she was saying, it didn't take much for him to get the general meaning.

 He put his hands up and stepped back, hoping that they would somehow understand that he didn't mean them any harm.

 It didn't work. The girl came closer.

 She was either crazy or fearless from her terror and obviously she cared nothing for her own safety as she stood in front of the other children.

 Kit, his eyes slowly adjusting more and more to the darkness and the chill, noticed something that quite possibly was the cause of the girl's dramatic protests and language, despite the fact that he couldn't understand.

 There were several loaves of bread, that's all, in the middle of the small group. Kit saw them....and his stomach painfully twisted as he stared, gradually seeing nothing else.

 These children were very thin true, but Kit very much doubted that they were as hungry as him.

 He began to take a few steps closer, then reached out to grasp one of the loaves, oblivious to the cries of fear and the dirty, smudged, but still innocent faces that looked at him......like he was....some sort of a villian.

 The girl grabbed his arm and attempted to pull him back. She was surprisingly strong, but it didn't take much to overpower Kit these days.

 He was still much stronger and he grabbed one piece of bread. One of the younger boys tried to take it back from him, and with the girl pounding on his arm and trying to pull him back, Kit felt his patience give in.

 He'd done everything he could to try and help people, and where had it gotten him? Here, that's where.

 He was starving......and he had a right to live just as much as these people did.

 He knew what it was to be hungry, he'd already walked down that path.

 Kit wasn't prepared for the sharp little teeth that sunk into his hand as one of the little girls ferociously attempted to defend their pitiful food supply.

 A flash of anger clouded the pilot's thinking and, along with the gradual pain in his arm from the older girl still fighting him, and the suspicious looks on the children's faces, he allowed his fury build.

 It reached it's peak as the oldest girl drew back her arm and struck him full force in the face, the stinging slap echoing in the small room.

 Kit stared at the girl, not seeing her, not caring as he pushed her back with all of his strength. *They deserve it.....all of them deserve it.....and I-.....*

 Silence was the only thing that managed to bring Kit back to his senses as he looked at the girl huddled in the corner, holding her arm with a graying face, her limb badly scratched and bleeding. The sour, overpowering emotion in the form of regret and guilt nearly made him sick to his stomach.

 She looked younger, with that fear in her eyes.

 He looked over to the group of children who stared back with those huge eyes full of another discovered fear. He felt like some kind of a monster.

 Looking at the bread in his hand, Kit thought he had reached the lowest point in his life.

 He'd come here to help, now look at him.......just take a look at what he was.

 He let his eyes rest on one of the little boys who stared back. Kit didn't see him.....he saw someone else.

 Someone who had had nowhere to turn, who had known what it was like to live in a hovel, or in the gutter, without anyone to care.

 What he'd looked like.....what he had been, before someone had found it in themselves to step out and give him so much.......more than he could have ever imagined until this moment.

 Kit felt his heart sink as he stepped closer to the older girl, watching her expression as she winced but valiantly tried to control her fear.

 She backed up, until there was nowhere else for her to go, and shut her eyes tightly as Kit extended out a hand. Finally, confused at what was happening, she opened her eyes again and looked at him with an unspoken question hanging in the air.

 Gently, very, very gently Kit took her hand and helped her to her feet.

 Self-consciously he inspected her arm. *Not so bad.....looks a little sore....but* The girl looked back at him accusingly and Kit backed off.

 He then picked up the bread he had unwittingly dropped, and placed it back in the pile as the other children stared at him, no longer afraid but curious.

 One little girl stood up and tugged at the bottom of his uniform, ignoring the sharp comment the oldest girl directed towards her.

 Kit knelt down, softly sat the child down and tried to form his words carefully. "Usland"

 All of them looked back at him as though he'd lost his mind.

 Kit sighed.

 He tried again. "Usland.....airplane...." He pointed to his hat, then to the sky. As if on cue, the tell-tale buzzing of another aircraft was heard directly over them.

 One little boy made a wing-like shape with his hands and attempted a buzzing sound, imitating the plane then moving his hands a bit.

 Kit smiled broadly. Well....a little bit of progress. "Usland...." he repeated, slower this time. The eldest girl pointed in one direction.....Kit stepped back, assuming that she was pointing east.

 He shook his head. "No...not yet, but soon."

 The girl seemed to relax a bit. She then pointed in the other direction. Kit nodded once.

 Still, she didn't smile, only stepped back and folded her arms. Kit gestured with his hands. "Here.....just stay in here...please."

 He pointed one finger downward, then motioned to the room. For emphasis, he repeated the words. "You need to stay here....."

 The girl looked at him long and hard, then she pointed to the smaller children before nodding.

 Kit could only pray that she understood, though he had a good feeling suddenly that she realized much more than just that.

 Something had been wiped away.

 Kit gathered up some bricks, stopping to rest as his body protested with the emotions and the adrenalin it had just experienced.

 He supposed he couldn't blame the others when they didn't lift a finger to help.

 Wiping his forehead, Kit turned to leave, before feeling someone gently grab his arm.

 Kit turned and saw one of the little boys holding out a rather large chunk of bread.

 The young pilot's heart melted as he smiled sadly and shook his head before turning again.

 Sharp tugging, more insistent this time caused the young man to sigh and turn to stare at the little boy, who didn't seem to want to take no for an answer.

 All of the others didn't seem to mind as the boy pushed it into Kit's hand. Kit, in turn, felt something crack inside of him.

 It was such a sweet, selfless gesture. It didn't belong here, in this place.

 Again, the young pilot stared down at the child's face. Once again.....he could only see someone else.

 Someday he would ask himself if he could have done it, were the situations reversed.

 Kit remembered something else as well....or someone else to be more specific.

 And there was one thing he could associate with, with that day, that new beginning.

 The young man took off his hat and placed it on the boy. It quickly flopped over his ears, but the child certainly didn't seem to mind as he grinned widely and grasped at the brim.

 Kit took one last look at the small but courageous group, finally meeting the oldest girl's eyes.

 She seemed to be fiercely hiding something, but the small smile she managed to leave him with said a great deal.......more than a great deal. It said fathoms.

 The young pilot turned and headed down the now unrecognizable street, the bread would manage to sustain him for a time.....but for how long, who knew.

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

May 5, 1919

The house had been exactly as Eric remembered. The ivy clung to it's walls, the flowers bloomed with a gentle, but not overpowering confidence.

 The shadows and light on the path told stories of their own, with the clouds high above gently caressing the garden in the form of mist in the early morning and kissing it with rain when the time was right.

 Through years of loss and ugliness, Eric had carried this picture with him, and it was not of definite shapes and forms but something vague, almost forgotten, it's sweetness in the form of light, love and peace.

 Down the path he remembered seeing her, the afternoon after a night of laughter and dancing. It seemed decades ago.

 He himself lived not so far away, but he had never known her, not even by sight, until that night, then those hours in the dying sunlight.

 Magic, with it's warmth, it's muted colors, and all of it's connections to a world long since gone.

 Dusk, then twilight. And he had walked through the fire to return here, to form a new life. He still clung to the past hopes and dreams like a life-preserver, even though their value was now gone.

 His reunion had been tearful and happy in the beginning.

 She'd been faithful, there really hadn't been any doubt on his part towards that. But all of the gentleness, the concealed depth that had offered his first and strongest attraction were dead in him.

 So hidden, he didn't even realize what he had lost, fortunate to be spared that added pain.

 She was waiting for him again, in another time it would have stirred something.......to compare what was then, and what was now.

 But the tension and gradual coldness between them could no longer be hidden or explained away, so she had asked him here.

 It was her home, given to her by first, her grandparents, then her parents when she married.

 The darkened windows caused a faint uneasiness to overtake Eric as he made his way to the bench in the garden. At times....different times, he only felt welcome here, and nowhere else.

 Not in this town, who had first celebrated his return, then avoided him and all that he reminded them of. What could he have if he didn't have this solace? He would return to his flying......but, then what? What was his life?

 Change, withdraw further, it was a vicious cycle. He would never again be free from it.

 Victoria, his fiance, sat quietly as such was her nature, her hands folded and safely hiding the agitation she was sure to be feeling inside.

 She was not considered a beauty.

 Her features had no outstanding vibrancy, nor any memorable quality. Everything was demure, reserved and unobtrusive.

 She was as proper as the era from which she was named and to Eric, she had seemed a living link to a past no longer thought of.

 She was too tall, too thin. At times, too gangly, but her gentle nature allowed her room for clumsiness.

 Nobody noticed.

 It was her eyes that Eric had first fallen in love with, if anything. They were large and expressive, full of light.

 Eric compared them to a full moon on a winter night, they had that irridescent quality. At times, they were all one could see.

 She could tell the best story without saying a word and the depth Eric had first detected was what had drawn him like a magnet.

 It wasn't a hidden fire that he saw, dying quickly through it's own strength and intensity, but something deep, enduring, like still waters, crystalline and pure.

 And no one had understood it. Eric had been considered quite good-looking, despite his lack of suave manners.

 He could have had his pick of any number of girls.

 But he had seen what real beauty was, in the form of character. And they had been very happy for a time.

 But what had been enough then now seemed empty and false, like the finest bound book with nothing on it's pages.

 Quietly he sat down on the far end of the bench. Neither spoke, the leaden feeling in Eric's heart made it difficult for him to trust his emotions and resulting words.

 She spoke first in that quiet voice that strangely enough, could bring the harshest shouting to silence.

 "Eric......you know how glad I am you're safe. I don't ever wish you to think I didn't want you to return. Never, not now and certainly not then had I ever felt that way. There were so many girls, some my friends that......"

 She stopped for a moment.

 "I'll probably always love you, the you that left on that train."

 She was crying now, openly, but Eric felt no sympathy. He really couldn't be blamed, it was a difficult enough thing for him to battle with the consuming pain at her words.

 "But......Eric." She turned to look at him. There was so much regret in her eyes and.......something more.

 All of the things a girl like her desired, the more precious years of her life, were gone, vanished with the waiting and the inability to return to that old world that beckoned.

 She was not bitter, but the sadness was a weight that crushed all of the optimism for the years to come. "Eric"

 He didn't respond. Again, those eyes filled and overflowed.

 "The person I waited for is never coming back. He left.....and you returned in his place" The words carried no spite nor were they designed to hurt him.

 They both simply knew that the words were true. "Y-You've changed.......and I don't want to marry a stranger, especially someone who doesn't have anymore love to give."

 That finally prompted a response, more than the quiet weeping that ensued for a time.

 "I'm really still the same. I still love you......that hasn't changed" It was a lie, inappropriate and out of place and she slightly shook her head.

 She gently pushed a small ring into his hand and he glanced down at it, numbly.

 She watched the stony expression on his face with concern and even a little fear. "It was terrible, wasn't it? Even from your letters, I could feel....."

 She didn't finish. She didn't understand.

 Eric still respected her because she didn't pretend to. He thought he had felt every kind of agony, but it was nothing compared to the cold emptiness he felt now.

 It was the last time he ever saw her standing on that path.

 "Victoria."

 She paused, the kindness on her face making it hard to believe that anyone had ever considered her plain. "I thought of you, every day. That part of me is still here"

 He put a finger on his chest. Victoria put the back of her hand against one eye, brushing back the tears that continued to come.

 With a strong light in her eyes, she walked back over to him quickly.

 With one movement she grasped the ring and held it between thumb and forefinger for him to see.

 "Do you remember when you gave this to me?" she asked, her voice ringing out clearly.

 Eric gazed at the ring, but all that he saw were miles of trenches, shells, holes and the ever-present destruction.

 "No" he said softly, not meeting her eyes.

 "When you remember, find me. I will always love the one who gave it to me. This is mine until then....."

 Eric did not begrudge her the object, nor did he raise his head as he heard her walk away.

 It was all she could take away, to carry, to remind her of what could have been, even if she could not escape what now existed.

 She wore it until another war raged through the country that was both of their homes.

 For Eric, it would take a hundred lifetimes before he would be able to grow a new heart, or so he believed.

 The house sold the next month, before a bomb claimed it twenty years later. Not even here, did peace last.

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

April 26, 1945

The wind whipped around the clouds, unseen, but still a forceful presence in itself, as it buffeted the mud-splattered, dingy soldiers who leaned into it, having learned long ago which battles to fight and which to simply let go.

 The gray sky seemed angry as it stared down, and the pilot almost didn't recognize the slate-colored sphere above him, though it was home.

 Nor did he belong here, in this hole of exhaustion and bitterness.

 He could feel that sky's pity as it stared sadly down at the earth it had once known so well, now ripped and torn beyond recognition.

 Here in.....um.....*Where the hell am I anyway?* Baloo scowled, looking down the road he was standing close to disinterestedly.

 Another camp, an outpost actually. A stakeout spot for those coming through and heading to the river.

 Baloo sighed and with a motion of exasperation, clamped one large hand over his cap to keep it from blowing away while turning his head disinterestedly to the sounds of yelling accompanied by the occasional curse as tent flaps blew crazily, tables tipped and miscellaneous objects went tumbling over the dusty ground, all moved by the same unseen force.

 And Baloo knew how they felt, oddly enough. As much as he resisted, as hard as he had tried to avoid, deny, or flat out refuse to acknowledge the existence of this same element that moved people the world over, it had caught up to him......and now he was at the heart of it, involved and tossed about as carelessly and apathetically as the rest of them.

 Baloo walked quickly over to a group of unshaven, haggard-looking soldiers struggling to hold a tent down against the coming cloudburst.

 The gray bear easily held the main wall down as the other young men looked at him gratefully, beginning the work of staking the bothersome thing down.

 The soldiers were young of course, but when they smiled it seemed to change their formerly grim countenance so that they looked to be no more than mere boys, barely old enough to be shaving, let alone doing the work that they did here.

 For the space of one moment, a barrier slipped away and the pilot seemed no longer the observer or the one circling this horror coming to a close, but was now a permanent part of it, for better or for worse.

 The sky, still unfamiliar, opened up with a curtain of rain, it seemed to be weeping fitfully for what had been beneath it for almost a decade.

 Why it would seem unfamiliar suddenly to Baloo was a question that had been answered long ago. Freedom, another existence up there, but tie yourself down to the cares, troubles, events.......and most of all, the people that existed here on solid ground was to be forever held close to it, by the bonds of earth.

 The gray bear hadn't minded though. Thy sky could be a cold, lonely companion at times, and he had learned to recognize what was meant to be sacrificed and what should remain.

 With a start Baloo realized that he was alone, the other gentlemen having much too much to do with their time but without the time to do it.

 Shaking his head to clear the fog, the bear glanced at his wrist, rolled his eyes remembering and looked around him, unable to even guess at the time with no visible sun.

 As much as he could tell, comsidering the comparatively quiet atmosphere, it was still pretty early in the day, within that strange position which is neither too early, nor too late, but waiting impatiently to be one or the other.

 Eric was heaven knows where, keeping to himself as usual and offering no explanation. Thinking of the racoon, Baloo almost grimaced.

 He'd met some aloof individuals in his life, but the Lieutenant had a wall, nearly visible, constructed around him, which had no chinks, gaps or even any doors with which civilities or even a decent conversation could penetrate through.

 And it wasn't as if the bear hadn't tried. After his conversation with Max, after drudging up recollections of his own, even after the brief, standoffish but always interesting chats with the racoon himself, Baloo's curiousity had reached it's peak, despite the constant nagging worry that ate at his subconscious like acid.

 Eric knew something.

 There was no doubt anywhere of that.

 And yet, here they were spinning their propellors and not going anywhere. No information, no leads, no nothing. Suddenly the large pilot was reminded of something he had yet to do.

 Something well-known but nameless hit Baloo in the gut, causing a lump that felt as though it was choking him.

 What would he tell Rebecca just had to be the same thing, even today and frustration seemed to be one of the many overpowering emotions that swept over the gray bear like a whirlwind.

 He couldn't stand to hear that tight anxiety in her voice, even over such a long distance, even with the static of the radio. He could hear everything from the hope to the eventual disappointment, the former having grown dimmer and dimmer as time passed.

 Their conversations had grown shorter as well. Baloo asked but felt disconnected about Higher for Hire, Wildcat, Molly, the rest of them.

 Rebecca always gave the same answers, and the silence was so bleak that it crushed them both.

 Kit wasn't there, he may never come back. Sometimes Rebecca's voice had seemed so threaded with something that it almost didn't sound like her own possession.

 Sometimes the forced bravery and even more hideous, forced cheerfulness caused Baloo more pain than anything else.

 She shouldn't have to try and protect his feelings, as much as he appreciated it. He knew that she was hurting, so why couldn't he express how sorry he was?

 Why this false facade of routine that had to be followed?

 Why couldn't he just allow her to let go, for both of their sanities. She'd been there, growing up with that boy too. In fact, just remembering how much she had been there was astounding.

 But it had always been this way, and the bear was worried that once something slipped or just a little space was allowed, then everything would come tumbling down, beyond repair or rebuilding.

 The tent was open, the radio waiting, the knob turned easily, the frequency was the same as always. But Baloo had something plaguing him. Something that had needed to be said, time and time again and yet never was.

 Rebecca's voice was there, tired, sad but brisk and ready. Baloo sat there for a moment staring at the mike, feeling a little strange but not knowing why.

 "Baloo?"

 Nothing

 "Baloo?!! Are you there? What's wrong?! Did something happen?!" The businesslady's voice was full of fear now, begging Baloo to say no, or to fall back into that routine of inactivity and dead ends.

 She was too fragile right now for the alternative. The rising fear in her voice snapped Baloo out of his reverie with a guilty start.

 "Hey Becky.........no, no, I'm fine, jus'....."

 Silence.

 "No news?" the woman's distant voice was a perfect monotone.

 "Becky......um, Rebecca"

 Rebecca was quiet for a moment.

 "Baloo? What is it? You sound strange.....what's happened, please just....."

 "I'm sorry" the words were out before Baloo could call them back, or before he even knew what they were for.

 He could practically envision Rebecca sitting there at Higher for Hire, blinking in astonishment.

 "What did you do?" the reply, not quite a monotone now but sounding tired, oh so tired.

 Baloo scowled for a second before rolling his eyes.

 "I didn't _do_ nothin'. I'm......well, I jus'.......I think......."

 He could just about hear Rebecca's fingers drumming impatiently on the desk and even the imagined sound of it was making him nervous.

 No reply though. A few years back she would've given him a direct order to spit it out. Now she waited, trusting him to finish.

 That thought brushed against the gray bear like a warm touch, allowing his words to form.

 "I'm sorry that.......you've had to go through all o' this. I know how ya feel 'bout Kit. Always felt, I jus'......don't know if I ever thanked ya fer bein' there for him.......an' me."

 "Oh.....Baloo, that's, I...." she was crying.

 Any other time the pilot would have felt his heart ripped out at the sound. But he knew that it was from a different source, and the fact that it affected her so said.......fathoms.

 "Baloo, you and Kit, you're both, well.....you know how I always felt, but" she never finished one phrase but she had said more than what could possibly be expressed.

 Baloo rambled off a position where they would try next, mundane details.

 But a gap was filled, bringing the two closer, as friends often do who are lucky enough to grow together, instead of apart, through trust and kindness.

 "Hey.....cheer up boss-lady. An' that's my order for you." Baloo added as a last, parting thought, glad for how easy it was for him to be able to say it and knowing that she needed to hear it.

 Rebecca laughed. There was something about her laugh that was warm and open, it lifted a mood.

 Baloo had always liked it, he liked it even more now.

 "Take care Baloo. Anything new....."

 "Same to you Becky. Here's to tomorrow, huh?"

 The simultaneous thought came through, unspoken.

 The radio ended it's transmission with the familiar click. Here's to tomorrow, Kit's, and all of the other boys here as well. Especially for all of those who would see their homes and the places they loved only in their dreams.

 The call came, the march went on and the pilot no longer stood beside the road in contempt.....he now would march with them.

 Baloo rubbed his head tiredly. He felt drained, yet he still wasn't sure why. Maybe because of his own plaguing thoughts that this long journey of hate and loss would never come to a close. Maybe he couldn't take his mind off of those who had lost and given up so much and yet would continually be asked to give more.

 Standing, Baloo felt very sad and alone suddenly, in this place. He needed something or someone to remind him that desolation didn't last forever. It just seemed that way at times.

 Funny, he didn't see any soldiers anywhere in that dusty road just outside of his tent, so well traveled, in the middle of so much ruination.

 He did, however, see a large truck pull up, several nurses in uniform jumping out.

 Looking at them, Baloo had that familiar, unpleasant emotion hit him, of being old beyond his years. The canvas surrounding the truck hid it's contents as the young woman began pulling out box after box, carrying them away.

 One stayed, after everything seemed quieted down, and reached inside of the canvas with one hand, speaking softly and gently to whoever sat patiently inside.

 The gray bear stood by, feeling rather lonely and out of sorts, unnoticed by anyone.

 He gathered his thoughts together, however, when he saw a thin, white hand followed by an arm clothed in a coat that seemed four sizes too big.

 Baloo stared, ashamed of himself, yet with the old words of the discovery to the north, that particular soldier's horror and Eric's expression, ringing in his ears and swimming before his eyes.

 Kit's, um....friend, her father, immediately came to mind. But seeing what he saw jarred him considerably.

 A polar bear, it was hard for Baloo to try and guess his age, smiled gratefully at the nurse who returned the favor with a shadow of pain in her eyes while she wrapped her arm around those thin shoulders as easily as possible.

 Baloo felt frozen. Those circles and shadows on that individual's face! The pilot couldn't get over it. Nothing he had ever come into contact with, from sickness to despair, could have caused such a thing as this.

 He could hear Kit suddenly, his voice young, then growing older, yet always the same. The Alemanians, what was happening, why it had been allowed to happen. It all seemed so close and real.....and frightening, all of a sudden to the bear.

 In this day and age too. He'd never have believed it.

 The polar bear, sensing Baloo's gaze, turned to stare back straight-forwardly. No words, not even a smile.

 The nurse felt her companion halt and looked up to see the cause. She also said nothing, simply stared at the bear with eyes full of questions Baloo knew he couldn't answer.

 Pain, sadness, even a little anger. The pilot's gaze went back to the polar bear. Slowly, yet deliberately, Baloo raised a hand to touch the brim of his cap.

 A salute, it seemed anti-climatic, considering what the bear had felt earlier and was feeling now.

 The other bear still said nothing, yet his eyes flashed for a moment, his face pale and his mouth fixed determinedly. It could not have been an illusion, the fire burning so deep within those eyes.

 What was respect, deepened, though it's cause was something Baloo didn't understand. Perhaps he never wanted to.

 Walking away, the pilot turned back. The other pair had vanished but Baloo could still see them in his mind's eye.

 And Kit's voice still came through loud and clear. "I told you Papa Bear. You just can't turn away sometimes or you're no better than what you're fighting......." "We're responsible, always responsible........."~

 "That plane is in worse shape than you! And I can think of few things that are less complimentary, it's a complete pigsty, don't you ever think of _cleaning_ something on your own accord instead of waiting for me to nag at you or even better, letting a customer lodge a complaint. If we started delivering fertilizer I think I would get an order from the Cape Suzette Department of Health to scrub that hunk of tin, in order for our cargo to be sanitary!!"

 The shorter woman folded her arms determinedly, not willing to let the subject go. Baloo growled, losing his temper with disturbing ease, especially when it came to the combustible combination of Rebecca's nagging, his plane and her constant belittlement of his personal attributes.

 "Fer the last time, _Miz_ Manager, I don't recall ever askin' yer advice about me, my plane or my bathin' habits. If you don't like it, then you can get outta my way. I'll clean that thing _when_ I got time and not before. Besides, the Duck's still as pretty as the day when I first met her, unlike......"

 Baloo stopped involuntarily. Rebecca stood waiting for him to say it. It was after all, an extremely obvious, get the better of you, kick you in the stomach low blow and she had left herself wide open for it, something she was not prone to do very often.

 The pilot didn't finish. There were some things a joe just didn't lie about, Rebecca could always see through his fibs anyway.

 "She's fine......she's, um...livable. A guy can git comfortable in that plane without gettin' the willies, unlike yer apartment or even this office." The gray bear shook his head sadly, observing what he saw around him. "Can't even recognize the place....times have changed an' not fer the better"

 "Oh please" the bearess rolled her eyes with a vengeance. "Spare me, if you don't mind. That dump you used to live in was a safety hazard, besides I doubt you even knew about half of the stuff you let accumulate, it was so covered with dust and cobwebs and heaven knows what else. At least somebody who walks in here can see that this place has walls, a floor and other things I'm told a room should have"

 "Accumu-what? Speak English fer once!"

 "Get a dictionary. It's over there, _labeled_, where it...should.....be. Y'know, organization. Let me know if I'm going too fast for you"

 Baloo only grumbled before turning around, his expression sour before changing in a heartbeat as the door opened, the easy-going pilot's dominant personality taking over and forgetting the quarrel at the sight of......

 "Baloo! Hey, didn't know you were gonna be here." The gray bear felt his face break into an ear-splitting grin as his erstwhile navigator, almost pilot, not to mention almost as tall as the he was, came rushing through the door, dumping his schoolwork and bag into a messy heap on the floor, which Rebecca merely raised an eyebrow at, her eyes never really leaving her paperwork in front of her.

 *How did she get back there so fast?* The fleeting thought was knocked out of Baloo's head. That pilot snickered before putting an arm around the tall young man, who brushed back his thick, almost unrully hair with a practiced guesture.

 "Yup Kit-boy, had some time ta spare an'......uh, my other job wasn't needin' me at the moment."

 A snort, obviously meant to be audible, was heard from the wily businesslady's desk as Kit took a step away from Baloo's friendly hug to raise an eyebrow of his own at his father.

 That individual shrugged as a sheepish grin tugged at his features. "Well, Louie said things would be pickin' up later, whaddya say, Lil.......uh, Kit?"

 Baloo stopped himself in time, grimacing as he remembered Kit's former, adament, instructions. The boy looked at him excitedly before slapping the larger pilot's hand.

 "All right! An' it's about time, too!! Bet Louie, uh.....well, maybe he's been asking 'bout me?" The insecure question in the young man's voice caused a chuckle to well up in Baloo, who was surprised to always find himself forgetting how endearing some of the former navigator's mannerisms could be.

 A loud *Ahem* was heard form a certain lady's location and both fly-boys turned their heads towards it as Baloo finished mussing the young man's hair, under protest, in response to Kit's earlier inquiry.

 "Kit......" Rebecca's voice, slow and cautious, made itself heard, almost under protest. "Don't you have things to do? I was in high school once...."

 Rebecca kept her eyes on the boy's face, waiting expectantly, oblivious to her other employee's dark scowl.

 Kit could have denied it, it would have been normal behavior for any teenager who was ready for a good, rollicking party.

 But Kit had never been an ordinary boy. And she trusted him for a reason, allowing him to speak and make decisions for himself because of the integrity she saw and so deeply respected in him.

 Baloo pushed his cap back tiredly, knowing full well what Kit would do, and frustrated because of it, although unwilling to change the boy's nature.

 Instead, he stepped back, fumed and bided his time.

 "I do......er, have some stuff I'd better do, an', um.....I got school tomorrow. It's gettin' so that I forget sometimes. Sorry Baloo" Kit couldn't quite return Rebecca's heartfelt smile but he picked up his backpack to head upstairs, smiling slightly but shaking his head at Baloo when the gray bear gently squeezed his shoulder..

 Clouds were forming here at Higher for Hire.

 Rebecca folded her arms with a superior expression Kit knew Baloo would react to, and badly.

 But the boy had tried for years to act as a go-between, between those two. He had learned to pick his battles, not to mention efforts.

 And he knew to avoid those he couldn't win in good conscience.

 Regrettably and more than a little nervously, he made his way up to the bedroom, the tension below creating a static atmosphere that he could feel crawling on his skin already.

 Luckily the door shut tightly behind him, though more's the pity, the room wasn't soundproof.

 Baloo clenched his fists and stared at Rebecca, tired but strong with her own sanctimony.

 She remained silent, wanting to avoid a battle of wills when obviously she was in the right, right?

 Nothing. The businesslady tapped her foot once, twice, before Baloo finally reacted.

 He surprised both of them with the tone of his voice.

 "I thought that I'd finally gotten ya to trust me after all 'o this time, Becky."

 Rebecca started. Something in Baloo's voice......

 No insults, no yelling. He sounded hurt.....strange.

 "Wha-......Baloo, if you're upset......"

 Now the pilot _did_ cut her off.

 "Rebecca, yer my boss. I'm Kit's father......an' on top o' that, I thought we were friends. Was I foolin' myself? I thought that all of those times you supported me an' Kit, or me, or a hundred time jus' him, you knew when ta drop your two cents in an' when to let me do my own thing. But I'm guessin' you think it's not supposed ta bother me that you still think I'm jus' some stupid, irresponsible slob who don't know nothin' 'bout what's best fer my kid."

 Rebecca wasn't quite speechless, but she felt rather odd.........

 It wasn't that she was wrong, she hadn't done one thing wrong. Baloo was just feeling sorry for himself, as usual. So.......why did she feel so, so, doggone guilty?

 Why didn't Baloo get angry, shout at her to stay out of his business, stop being such a busybody, and so on and so forth?

 The same old argument. She was prepared for it. When Rebecca found that she didn't want to reply to what Baloo had just said, she wondered just how prepared was........and if always expecting it was such a good thing.

 "I just thought that Kit, on a school night, should do his homework. _I_ want him to graduate, have.......a........future......." the woman trailed off, almost ashamed at her choice of words.

 It was like she was backing up what Baloo had been saying. Of course, she realized that he wanted the same things for the boy. Regardless of his faults, she had always known that Baloo would give everything he had for Kit and Kit's future.

 "The kid was lookin' burnt out boss-lady. He needed a break, why didja think I got here early? I wanted ta surprise him, jus' three of us at Louie's, catchin' up on old, new or even in-between times. Would've gotten him back in plenty o' time. But Kit'd never do somethin' if he thought you didn't want 'im to do it, Miz. Manager, so that's that."

 Rebecca swallowed hard as she felt her self-righteousness crawl back to that place deep inside of her with it's tail tucked between it's legs. She hadn't asked, she'd just assumed.

 She.......was the responsible one. If Kit's best interests weren't her goal, what was? Showing Baloo up in front of the boy? Nobly picking up after the bear anytime she thought he'd made a mistake? They.......were friends.

 He'd been one of her closest friends for years. Baloo had trusted her with the most precious thing in his life.....and she wasn't thinking about that orange and yellow contraption outside either.

 But.....she couldn't return the favor.

 Baloo took his cap off to set it lightly down on the desk, before flopping down in the patched, red arm chair.

 Rebecca felt very small suddenly, an unfamiliar emotion streaking like lightning across her heart, more than hurt.

 She didn't mean to hurt Baloo. In spite of their differences, she felt closer to him than, well, almost anybody.

 It had been that way for a long time. An unsettling realization about their friendship made her shaky and nervous. It hurt.......worse than a great many things she could imagine to think of ever losing that tie, bond.

 "Baloo....." The bear turned to look at her, there was still no anger on his face, only a shadow of dissappointment.

 "Baloo, I'm sorry."

 "Why Rebecca?"

 "Why?!"

 "Yeah. Jus' appeasin' me 'cause I don't feel like havin' a screaming match with ya? Makin' me put down my guard so's you can get the better of me next time.....an' the time after that. You won, 'kay?! Yer better, smarter, more responsible, yada, yada......."

 "Stop!!" Rebecca cut the pilot off with one word, holding up her hand.

 "Baloo.......I was.......wrong. I just wanted what was best for Kit and for you. Sometimes I just forget to back off. And I forget that sometimes what's best for both of you. I.....respect you. I didn't ever want you to think anything different. Don't you think I respect anyone who wanted to step outside of themselves the way you have? I don't choose my friends sometimes Baloo. They choose me, in spite of all of my.......um, faults."

 She saw the small smile cross Baloo's face, still without any malice in it.

 "You've changed so much since I first met you, and I even liked you then" The pilot laughed at that, joining Rebecca's self-conscious admittance, as she spoke it like some sort of weakness.

 Then he was standing close to her, something was in his eyes. The businesslady rubbed her temples before daring to grin at him.

 "Even if you were a loud, over-bearing, chauvanisitc bum" Baloo laughed again, throwins his head back.

 "I'm sorry I treated you like you didn't have a thought in your head. I'm........just sorry I wasn't able to see past my own......um....."

 "Ego?"

 Rebecca stepped back from him, scowling for a moment, before laughing as well.

 "Ego" she conceeded, before holding out a hand. "Can we be friends again?"

 Baloo stared at that hand, then at her. With a flash of insight, several emotions hit the bear in the form of a coherent thought.

 She wasn't beautiful.....she wasn't even that glamorous, but......she had _something_. Baloo never would have thought he could be attracted to a woman like her, but then again, on the same token, he didn't see why not.

 She was smart, extremely so, and the pilot had always respected her for it, regardless of the roller coaster it sometimes took him on.

 Rebecca looked a little startled as Baloo gave her an embrace before stepping back, embarrassed and red-faced.

 That lady scowled slightly and smoothed her hair back. Baloo stammered and stuttered before motioning upstairs.

 "Uh.....guess, I'll......um, go see what Kit's doin'" Rebecca nodded, smiling.

 "Fine Baloo, I've got to say goodnight, but be sure to tell him good-bye for me. You two.....have fun at Louie's.........just not _too_ much fun."

 Baloo stopped on the staircase and beamed at her.

 "I know I've said it before........but yer all right Beckers."

 Rebecca waved him away giggling, as she shuffled her near forgotten papers and grabbed her coat.

 Baloo was still looking at her as she picked up her briefcase to head out of the door. "What? Did I forget something?"

 She felt a little awkward being scrutinized like that. This was almost.....new territory for the both of them.

 "Why dontcha come too, Becky? Unless Molly's babysitter objects?"

 Rebecca just stared at him, unable to see the humor in his little joke, and not quite willing to think that he was serious.

 "Me? Oh come on Baloo......"

 "Why not? When was the last time you went out for a night on the town?"

 The businesslady's eyes twinkled. "With a couple of good-looking boys like you? Oh, probably not since......never."

 Baloo snickered. Rebecca watched him open the door to the bedroom. Something surged inside of her.

 What was she doing? Her, Rebecca Cunningham, business major. What about the professional atmosphere necessary for a successful business? All of the lectures and books that leaned towards aloofness and leaving your personal life out of the workplace, especially in the atmosphere she had been forced to start out in, with so much struggle.

 Now......she had to fight to keep from laughing out loud. What did they know? Any of them.

 Nothing.

 This was as much her life as anything else, and it had probably saved her from a very narrow, lonely existence.

 There was only one regret. The fact that she still felt a little on the outside, kindof like a third wheel in regards to Baloo and Kit. And it hurt terribly in spite of how many times she had told herself that this was how it should be.

 Someday she might have to let go. But tonight, she was a part of it, of their struggles, sadness and joy, content to be grateful with it.

 Baloo stepped into the bedroom meekly, observing silently Kit's back facing him as the young man lay quietly on his bed.

 With a twist, the pilot observed how that well-worn but well loved bed was nearly too small for his former navigator now.

 When had that happened?

 He reached over and gently shook Kit's shoulder, feeling rather guilty for waking the boy but also feeling the emotion dissipate as Kit rolled over, quite awake.

 "It's about time you asked her on your own Papa Bear........you ready to go?"~

 Baloo still smiled at the memory, although it caused him some unforeseen pain. He wanted to stay here, sitting, he was tired and discouraged.

 He foolishly wanted to return to those days, with all of their faults, blurred and forgotten through the space of time and irrational longing.

 A low rumbling suddenly filled his ears, growing louder, sounding a bit like thunder.....yet, a bit not.

 He'd heard that sound before, Baloo bet his life on it. But.........what in heaven's name?

 Before he realized it, the bear was out of the tent, gazing upwards, listening to the shouts of alarm, and aware of the same emotion growing in him.

 "What the devil is it?!" The pilot yelled, but the soldier nearest him shook his head, confused, his eyes full of fear.

 Baloo knew the answer anyway, even though he didn't want to.

 Another soldier, looking a little older, a little more seasoned, came running up behind him, stopping to stare upwards at the long, thin, trail of smoke.

 The sound of a powerful engine cut Baloo off as he spotted something he hadn't seen in years, especially not in this form.

 "Tell me that's one o' ours......." came the low remark, almost a question, but not quite.

 The soldier looked at him, eyes hooded before grinning rather unpleasantly. "The race is on, gramps, an' I think in some areas, we're losin' "

 Baloo stared at him, the memory of that sound, that sight, still unnamed but growing stronger. He felt more than uneasy.....

 Sweeping a large hand across the bombarded landscape, the pilot spoke up, his usually robust voice subdued and quiet.

 "Thought we were winnin'. Pretty close to obvious, dontcha think?"

 The soldier smirked before growing serious. There was a definite something there......in his own countenance. Something foreboding.

 "Ever hear o' an old sayin'? Winnin' the battle but not the war? Pretty damn long battle, four years o' this. But don't think we've won, no sir. Just takin' it to the next level."

 Baloo knew what he meant. He'd been party to both sides at one time. But he didn't like the look of that aircraft, especially considering where it came from.

 But not even that could hold his attention, with the events he knew in the here and now. Didn't matter anyway........

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

 It was the sorriest excuse for scenery that Eric had ever had the mistake of classifying as such. The trees, blackened with soot, dented from shelling and gunfire, the branches bravely looking upward, without a single leaf to call their own, their long, spindly appearance giving the deception of arms outstretched in a pleading question.

 Asking why it was thus, why their time of peace, prosperity and growth had been interrupted so terribly. Instead of crowned rulers of this broken, battered view, instead of grass and flower, rutted trails and mud, instead of their canopy and their dignity, there was nothing except these grotesque figures, mocking in their ugliness, sad in what they had been and could never be again.

 Eric was taken back, it had not happened again, it was the first time.......and the years were pushed back as if they were screens of paper, fragile and delicate.....and non-existent after a time.

 The soldiers, young, all marching to the same tune, in the trenches or along these paths, rain or shine, the call had inevitably come, for whatever reason or justification and so it was that they must follow.

 The ghosts of those who had fought earlier for this soil, standing beside the lads of today, blurred through the mist of time and error of ways, all that had lit the path to this moment, lived once again.

 Eric, a part of one, a part of what had come after, now a part of the present, unwilling to aid for the safety of the future, even if it was just one family.

 Now, forever.....a part of it all, never seperated.

 The moment passed as the clouds broke for an instant, encircling the Lieutenant in a glow of light and warmth, before leaving nothing to remember itself by as the tired, gray clouds hid that bright circle once more.

 Brought back to reality gently......and the more grateful for it, Eric observed where he was. Border of Lorraise, the village, nameless bombed out buildings that belonged only to themselves now, no longer bound by words or regulations, or a specific location.

 He had driven all night, hadn't even told the other boys where he was really going. He didn't know why he was here exactly.

 It didn't look the same, not even after the German offensive, that last great battle of that last, Eric snorted cynically, Great War, had it looked like this.

 All of it's beauty, the gardens, the peace......all that had welcomed him, had sustained him for many a lonely year as a veteran in these parts, not caring to go home after what he'd lost there, was destroyed.

 Families, individuals, children, adult, rolled past him, the lines of half a century of loss etched into some of them. Refugees, fleeing once more, leaving everything, coming back to nothing, rebuilding once again.

 But with what?

 Eric felt a sensation of stabbing guilt, powerful and strong. With what indeed, with no one to care, only to act for their own self-interests.

 The racoon turned his head away. He started when he opened his eyes again, to see a group of young people standing by him.

 One girl was uncomfortably close. The Lieutenant stepped back. The girl stepped closer.

 Eric felt claustrophobic and resentful at the expression of pity on her face.

 *Not _that_ obvious, am I ?!*

 Besides, he should be feeling sorry for them, not vice versa. Eric stepped back again, almost angrily this time, before hearing the girl say something to the others.

 So.......she wasn't from here. He recognized her language, but didn't respond.

 *Should be staying where they belong, if they wanted to stay out of trouble.* Eric shook his head before hearing several voices in the small group begin to rise.

 Vaguely, though with growing, embarrassed clarity, the racoon began to understand. He wasn't wearing any kind of insignia, but he probably still looked like an officer, with his unmarked uniform and seniority.

 The girl looked back at him sadly, before placing a restraining arm on one tall, burly youth who was gradually getting louder and harsher as he yelled directly into the face of a young......Eric blinked at that understatement, amazingly young, shepard dog.

 The girl, even more amazingly, looked younger than him. By God, they were just children, but is was not Alemanian that their burlier, much older-looking companion was speaking.

 They were from here, the rest of this group, apparently. Things didn't appear to be going very well.

 A heated discussion turned argument had probably been ensuing between the two Alemanian refugees and their hostile friends.

 It was now taking a rather nasty turn.

 Eric felt another, quick stab of guilt at not responding to the girl's inquiry of help, but it was quickly replaced by anger when he fully realized just who, and what, that young shepard dog was, or maybe what he had been, more appropriately.

 He wanted to turn around, but the girl looked at him pleadingly. Resisting the strong urge to curse, the racoon took a step closer to the growing fray.

 The young shepard dog, still in the middle of the pair's tormentors, took one look at the Lieutenant and sneered viciously before spitting something out that Eric wasn't sure he wanted to understand.

 A sharp, rather effective left hook was all he got for his troubles and the dog, now on the ground, his eyes blazing and fearless with hatred, jumped up and pounced on his attacker.

 It would have been comical to see, considering the difference in their sizes........and probably ages too, if the girl hadn't screamed and physically put herself in the middle of the dust-up, though what she hoped to achieve, Eric could only guess at.

 He didn't step in to help......why should he? He didn't even know which side he should help anyway. More scuffling, angry words and someone pushed the girl out with a vengeance.

 She landed awkwardly, dirty and bruised with large, crystal tears rolling down her bedraggled face.

 Combined with how thin she was, the shape her clothing was in and other tell-tale factors Eric could remember few times he'd seen a more pathetic looking waif.

 Without thinking, merely reacting, the racoon threw himself on to the largest youth, unsure if someone his age, *since when am I that old?!* could hold the bully.

 Luckily, that young man's energy was spent, and the older racoon's interference brought the fight to a self-conscious halt before it was too late.

 Breathing hard, dusting himself off but certainly not about to apologize, Eric disgustedly ignored the young men scuffing their toes in the dirt like chastized children, which was of course not too far from reality.

 The racoon helped the girl to her feet. He now could observe her more closely....heavens, she was even younger than what he'd assumed at first glance and though it was muddy and torn, she was undoubtably wearing a uniform, perhaps a nurse's uniform.

 "They did not have any papers." One youth spoke up, his accent heavy but his language Eric's own.

 "What kind o' papers?" The Lieutenant folded his arms skeptically, as the young man wiped some sweat off of his broad forehead.

 "Well.......they're Alemanian. We do not like zem scurrying in here with zer tails dragging"

 Eric pointedly overlooked the youth's mixed metaphors, seeing and hearing only the nasty undertone and significance in the words.

 "Can I ask what the devil you're talkin' 'bout? They're refugees, don't matter the nationality."

 "Maybe not to you!!" Another young man spoke up furiously, his face an unattractive shade of red.

 "What do you know about anyzing? Ze are not welcome!" Eric stared the hostile youth down, his thin face intimidating and stark.

 "Plenty" the one word carried weight and the young man backed off. "I know plenty an'......"

 Eric paused, a distasteful sensation overtaking him. He shook his head.

 "Go......get out o' here, go home, or go back to that pile of bricks you associate that with. I'm finished talkin' to you." With a superior wave of his hand, Eric brushed aside the group's protests as though they were all insignificant gnats buzzing around his ear.

 "You heard me, jus'.......get outta my sight." Eric was grateful when the group complied, leaving him alone with the young shepard dog who refused to look at him, still angry and too proud to thank him.

 The girl was also there, and she began to speak rapidly to Eric, despite his repeated guestures that indicated that he could not understand.

 He shook his head before lightly grasping those thin shoulders to regain her attention. Taking a few, jotted notes out of a pocket, the racoon pointed at them, but the girl's response was not encouraging.

 She shook her head with a great deal of energy and pointed........

 Eric stepped back but could only make a wild speculation that the finger was pointing northward......in that oh so specified region of geography.

 "No papers" he muttered, exasperated at these two greenhorns for wandering around here in this combustible area and time, unprepared. He was also irritated at himself for having to boost his own ego by playing super-hero and bailing them out.

 Maybe if he trusted them it would be easier......but he didn't, so it wasn't, and he felt no pressing need to change that.

 The girl was still staring at him......and as it was from the first glance, she was still pitying him, her eyes full of unshed tears, for herself, her companion......maybe even for him.

 In spite of himself, Eric felt something twist sharply before it faded. He was no knight in shining armor but sometimes, he realized ruefully, chivalry was not altogether dead in him, for all of the good such idealism did.

 Something flashed in the sun, as the girl pulled out an object, then cradled it in one small, work-worn hand. Eric focused on the compass with a great deal of surprise before looking at it's smooth, glossy surface with practiced confidence.

 It was northeast, but she still didn't have the right paperwork and neither did her, um....talkative friend, obviously.

 The racoon could guess why they were here. Still, it was none of his business, he didn't wish to make it his business.

 The Lieutenant made to turn away.

 Something stopped him.

 He was missing something very, very important, but..........the memories had to collect themselves and form a clearer picture than just his vague suspicions.

 A blue plane, a young, tall pilot, a recollection, becoming sharper and sharper........a young man giving him directions, plotting out maps, courses, of course with a compass.

 *Heavens be praised and then some.*

 With _that_ compass. Eric had inspected it with young Cloudkicker's permission.

 Engraved, a bit scuffed. Without any sense of decorum the Lieutenant snatched the object out of the frightened girl's hand.

 *It _was_ his......by God, it had to be, please, it just had to be.*

 Eric felt like he couldn't breathe with the suspense of it.

 The girl was crying, the other young dog was not in sight.....*and good riddance* Eric though with a grimace.

 The racoon was angry and he almost didn't realize it as he clutched at the compass.

 "Where did you get this? Huh?!! Where?! I need to know!!"

 Terrified, crying enough salty tears to fill a small ocean, the girl shook her head, completely bewildered.

 "Where?! Tell me!! You stole it! Was he still in one piece when you snatched it, you greedy, little....."

 Eric stopped himself, feeling distant, which was nothing out of the ordinary, but also........ashamed.

 Deeply so.

 The girl's fear was a near tangible thing. She looked, though it was foolish to judge on such a flawed system as outward appearances, but she looked too young and innocent to be the type.

 Eric stared at her, a tiny sapling of respect deeply rooted for this girl, who should have turned tail and ran if she'd had any shred of common sense. She had stayed.

 She wasn't Lorraisian, but a faint, almost sweet memory wafted through Eric's subconscious.

 The french girls draping them, those young pups who had come from overseas, with flowers, like heroes, at the end of that horrific war.

 The language, everywhere, it was spoken everywhere and........maybe a bit of time had past but he, yes, he could still remember.

 Unable to tear his gaze away from that compass, Eric blurted out. "Est-ce que vous parlez la Francais?"

 It was rusty and pretty awful, and his young friend's face showed it. But not wasting time, she brightened a great deal, a small amount of relief giving her release.

 "Oui"

 One word, Eric felt a load being lifted off of him.

 The racoon, his throat gone dry, licked his lips.

 He felt foolish and self-conscious, but he held up the compass, casually observing it as it caught and reflected the bright and beautiful sun.

 The girl's eyes widened, she turned paler, something Eric really hadn't thought possible.

 He muttered something under his breath before starting in again. "Avez-vu Kit Cloudkicker?"

 The girl stared at him, absolutely mistified. The racoon resisted the strong urge to slap his forehead. Of course.

 The name may as well be pig latin to her. But........that compass. No chance or mere coincidence. * It _had_ to be.......*

 A light, strong, penetrating, crossed her face as she looked at Eric, seeing him fully for the first time.

 A half-smile appeared and the Lieutenant was ready to listen.

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

 The cafe was filled with men, but Max no longer had the energy to talk with any of them. None of them knew anything about the crash, the pilot, or even the circumstances that the brown dog desperately needed information about.

 They were dirty, tired and had come a long way.

 Max was sick of hearing about their problems as well. Of the last Alemanian offensive, the one that they had been careless enough to almost let break through, it's desperation posing as an even larger danger than the actual attack.

 These soldiers seemed to have their own problems........and their own cockiness, ingrained in them from the close victory, and even from their own sufferings. Max wondered how it would have been otherwise.

 Pausing for a moment the dog reflected, then shook his head. No........better to deal with these lads, despite all of their irritating tendencies, than the alternative.

 The young pilot stuffed his hands deep within his pockets and crept along the side wall as inconspicuous as he dared hoped to be, considering the fact that he had stood stock-still for some time, trying to ask questions or simply observing these occupants as one does a display in a museum.

 Observing but apart.

 Max kept his eyes on the far table in the corner, a hard task taking into account the fact that the entire room was dimly-lit, dusty and somewhat uncomfortable.

 A room, a place within a world that remembered itself to be something much better. A location of elegance and joy that seemed to be desperately attempting to return to what once was and rise above the chaos and filth that it was now subjected to.

 The same, could be said, assumedly, of many of it's inhabitants. The bartender, a thin, scrawny, nervous-looking stork who looked bedraggled and absurdedly dignified at the same time pointedly ignored the young soldier, which suited Max just fine.

 He himself was still entirely unsure as to why he had come here in the first place. To escape the dust, the wind, or more pressing.....the menacing clouds which gave a clue as to what condition the deeply rutted roads, equipments and most of the men would be in in a matter of hours.

 Sopping wet and miserable.

 Max placed his elbows on the sticky table gingerly and absently allowed his gaze to rest on the open door.

 He looked.....but saw nothing, his eyes carrying neither memories nor emotion, only weariness.

 A tall, burly-looking polar bear with a spotted, discolored coat and a thread-bare knit cap came tromping through the door, an unpleasant grimace adding nothing to his already dour features.

 Max blinked a few times and averted his gaze slightly as the polar bear, scowling at him, misinterpreted the young pilot's blank stare with open hostility.

 The bear smirked at Max then began his less than graceful journey to one of the center tables, pushing aside chairs and hapless soldiers who happened to be in his way, with careless arrogance.

 Max felt his guard, not to mention his temper, rise up as he watched the bear, not exactly sure that he liked the idea of being so meanly judged by such a brutish figure.

 The dog's own pride began pricking at him.

 The jittery bartender had finally tapped him on the shoulder and asked in a quavering tone what he wanted, but to Max, he might as well have been a fly buzzing in his ear and he waved the stork away with a less than gracious motion of his arm.

 A sharp screech sounded loudly as a chair involuntarily was dragged into place, then some cracking and popping as the husky looking bear settled down, placing his hands behind his head and leaning back.

 One of the waitresses irritably stepped around the polar bear rolling her eyes. Unfortunately, she wasn't quick enough to avoid his unattractive leer and resulting comment.

 "Hey, Sophie.......howzabout givin' me somethin' a little extra than jus' my regular today, huh?"

 The girl, a golden colored collie, whipped her head around and planted a foot near the bottom leg of the precariously tipped seat that the polar bear was resting his weight on.

 Max sat up a little straighter, his full attention on the two........his and everyone else's in the joint.

 "Oh yeah, sure......" the girl's accent contrasted a bit with the bear's, although both had the same origin.

 Max felt himself grin a bit, Usland........had to be, what else?

 "I'll be glad to as soon as ya get past yer reputation......not to mention yer name, _Cool Hands_ 'Sides, you can get that idea outta yer head, I'm not that kinda girl"

 Several snickers were heard, which quickly escalated to roars of laughter from everyone in the room, especially when Sophie, with one quick movement, pushed the bear's chair out from underneath him.

 The polar bear, Cool Hands.........? Max shook his head, *Hope that's not his real name* stood up furiously and slammed a fist down on the unyielding table.

 The bar was immediately silent.

 Max felt his annoyed feelings return with a vengeance. The guy was obviously a bully, and the fact that he wasn't in uniform raised the dog's suspicions.

 *What was this guy doing here?* Trying to cash in on the devastation around him, like so many other low-lifes Max had seen everywhere, skulking about.

 The dog dug his fingernails into the palm of his hand unwittingly, an old bitterness, no, at this moment, more like an old grudge.......held against everyone and everything not helping to end this misery, merely adding to it, clouded the pilot's brain.

 The polar bear dusted himself off, not an easy task with the previous condition of his apparel, and scowled at the bartender who hurried over, moulting feathers with every step he took.

 Max perked his ears up to try and hear what exactly the unpleasant individiual was muttering to make the bartender seem so ill at ease.

 "B-but....she has been here for almost a year now....." The broad accent still allowed Max to hear every sorry word.

 More low grumbling, the polar bear grinned maliciously at the stork, who slowly nodded his head.

 Max's eyes turned to slits as he carefully pushed his chair back from the table. Not fully aware of his rage, even more so, not caring, the dog rested his gaze on the unpleasant bear, this time unswervingly.

 Though every other soldier had either left the polar bear's table or had repeatedly attempted to ignore him, Cool Hands sneered at those close enough to see and hear him, before piping up again.

 "Yesiree, jus' gotta show those dames whose boss, y'know?" The polar bear stopped and viciously scowled at the few random giggles still heard, though heard timidly at best.

 "Yeah......back in Cape Suzette, I was quite the ladies' man. These gals jus' want someone to put 'em in their place."

 Max started to stand before he unconsciously met the gaze of that girl.....Sophie? as she turned away from the bartender, her eyes spitting fire.

 The dog glanced at the polar bear and Sophie smiled slightly. Max then turned his frigid gaze back to Cool Hands, barely allowing what that individual had actually said, to penetrate.

 Only one small detail stood out blaringly........Cape Suzette. Max almost snorted before shaking his head.

 *Some day I'm gonna hafta visit that blasted place, find out jus' what they put in the water that affects all o' these yahoos that come out of it.*

 Dimly, the brown dog could still hear Sophie arguing with the bartender, but he couldn't allow himself to avert his glare one bit.

 As if in slow motion, the polar bear turned his head around to pin down the owner of those eyes that he could feel so sharply all of a sudden.

 Max didn't flinch as the older bear first raised an eyebrow, then glared right back, an open challenge.

 The young pilot wasn't used to backing off from anything, and he was too strung out to care about the consequences at this moment.

 Someone was gonna take the brunt of that simmering cauldron of deep emotion he had so carefully concealed for far too long and Max, with almost sadistic pleasure, suddenly hoped it was this pompous neer-do well.

 Cool Hands put both palms on the table in front of him and pushed himself back, his chair producing a very effective scraping noise far more grating, as hard as that was to believe, than anythign he could say or do.

 "You gotta problem _sonny_? Or maybe you're jus' a little soft in the head?!" The room froze completely, the tensions that everyone had felt or were certain to be feeling now, from a thousand different sources, crackled with an almost electric power.

 "Should I have one?" Max's voice was low, but fearless. The polar bear stood up and began making his way to Max's corner.

 The dog swallowed a lump in his throat in spite of himself when he saw his adversary's full size, but still he angrily held his ground.

 "Y'know, you've been pesterin' me since I walked through that door. I think yer lookin' fer some trouble......an' I also think it's about time I let ya find it."

 Max stood up fully himself, fists clenched, admittedly relieved to hear other chairs scraping across the floor as the other occupants, solder, pilot, civilian, what have you, sensed what was about to happen and reacted, almost involuntarily.

 "I'm supposin' mister, that you ain't used that word or any like the one _think_ let alone given up the energy to follow through with it fer longer'n you'd care to admit."

 The large polar bear was now face to face with Max, his over-emphasized features twisted with rage.

 "Why you little maggot......I'm gonna enjoy knockin' yer block off...."

 Max closed his eyes, reacting, as Cool Hands drew his fist back. *Sure wish I woulda gotten the first punch.*

 His last thought was little comfort as the polar bear's fist made contact painfully.

 A low, dull roar was the next thing the young pilot was aware of as chairs, bottles, unfortunately for some victims, even tables, were thrown about, and the yelling, cursing, along with the sound of fists flying with emotions left to simmer too long in an unhealthy environment finally found release.

 The dog could've cared less, however, as he jumped up and threw all of his weight into a pretty effective tackle, bringing the snickering bear down with a groan.

 Max felt himself joustled and punched several more times as he struck back, before he felt his strength start to give way in comparison to the larger polar bear.

 Noting with some satisfaction the purple shiner and rather fat lip that the bully was about to unpleasantly aware of, Max also saw, with increasing alarm the brawl that was growing out of hand in a matter of seconds.

 Windows and glass shattering, the piteous, high-pitched pleading of the bartender, but especially one could hear the group of men more than willing to fight one fight effectively and with some good old-fashioned fun, even if, or probably because former loyalties and common sense held little or no sway here.

 Swinging out a few more times for good measure, Max dizzily tried to get on his feet before being brought down again, hearing Cool Hands' mumbled cursings along with a hundred other bitter remarks.

 "Goody two shoes, this one's fer suckin' up to the Sarge....." "Aw, you were always jealous, 'sides, I never once laid a finger on her......" "Here's for when you turned an' ran like the yellow belly you are 'stead of fightin' like a real man......"

 Trying to disengage himself from the infuritated bear who kept getting a few good blows in, Max felt and heard, though he didn't completely understand, the whirlwind around him.

 "Cheapskate!" "Good fer nothin'!!" "Lazy bastard, always gettin' us in hot water...." "I know it was you who took it......" "Dirty, rotten, son of a......."

 Finally Max managed to stand up again, feeling his swollen, probably bleeding or maybe broken nose gingerly and viciously kicking or swinging at anyone in his path.

 His main opponent, unfortunately, was still unsatisifed and almost roaring in fury, Cool Hands attempted to use the same tackling method Max had seemingly perfected moments, or minutes? before.

 This time, however, the dog side-stepped it and began snickering at the sight of the large bear sprawled out on the floor, in the midst of all of the contained chaos.

 "You look like you could use a stiff drink, _Pops_"

 Groggily, the polar bear began to get up again, a growing, murderous look in his eyes.

 With a startling crash, the girl.....Sophie, brought down a very fine-looking bottle of spirits right on the abrasive bully's head.

 Cool Hands now seemed blissfully unaware of the mess he'd helped start and looked even more prepared to stay in that condition for quite some time.

 Max grinned as Sophie tsk-tsked over the bottle.

 "I guess that was strong enough for him, eh?"

 "Yeah...." the pilot replied, smiling widely, "Although it's a shame, I always said that that was a good year"

 Sophie threw back her head, laughing as Max impulsively pulled her out of the way of another rambunctious brawl that blew past, ready to pull her in.

 Pushing the girl in front of him, Max caught one more glance of the now transformed bar-room, trying not to laugh out loud as the old stork shook a fist at him.

 Stumbling out of the door, both he and Sophie attempted to catch their breath, still laughing, bruised and running full throttle from their own adrenaline and that of the charged atmostphere they'd come barrelling out of.

 Sophie whipped out a handkerchief and quickly pressed it to the young pilot's nose, a strange gesture, close to out of place with the sounds of the brawl still very noticeable, behind the two.

 Max nearly took a step back before letting his eyes rest on the former waitress approvingly. He felt very odd suddenly, there was a sudden tension......uncomfortable, and a great many different questions that he wanted to ask this strange Usland girl.

 All of his inquiries died on his lips however when Sophie grinned at him and winked.

 "You sure know how to treat a gal right on her first date, dontcha fly-boy? Got any encore performances?"

 Max took a step back apprehensively. "Look....how did you kn-"

 With an almost contemptuous flip of her hand, Sophie motioned to Max's head, and what was on top of it.

 Max rubbed his hat self-consciously before stepping back and letting the girl dab at his very tender face with her handkerchief. Her smart-alecky tone, bitingly irritating to the young pilot any other time, was actually close to attractive inside of this one strange moment.

 "Got the perfect thing......" Max tried to smile at her, a difficult thing as he was just now starting to feel the pain of his little encounter, though feeling more discomfort at how close his companion was.

 He tried another tactic, not sure of how to flirt with this girl, or if he really needed to. "Uh.....that is, do you....um, wanna say good-bye to yer boss in there afore takin' leave of this _faaaahn_ establishment?"

 Sophie stepped back and placed her hands on her hips, her gaze causing Max to fidget awkwardly, and curse himself because of it. She finally smiled softly before shaking her head vehemently, her face showing a look of disgust as she turned around to stare back at the bar.

 She then turned to stare at the still fidgeting pilot. "Did you happen to ask that fer a good reason?"

 Max flushed and stared down at his shoes. "Well......unless you got somethin' better to do tonight."

 Her laugh, decidedly pleasant to the dog's ears sounded, clear in the warm, damp, spring night. "Honey, I'm all yours." 

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

 "I have seen some sorry, sorry sights in my day, but you, absolutely, hands down, no contest, take the cake. Hell's bells.......an' here you was sayin' that _Kit_ was a glutten fer punishment. You look like somethin' that's been run over twice then spit on......an', hey kid!"

 Max slightly turned his head, hearing the pilot's words but not really allowing them to register. Baloo slumped in his chair wearily before looking at the now barely recognizable young pilot.

 "What is it, you have one too many? Ya look a little outta sorts, kid."

 Max finally turned to look at the gray bear and grinned, a strange occurrence in itself. Baloo blinked before allowing a worried expression to crease his brow.

 "Hey.....Max! I said, you all right son?" Max nodded slowly before walking over to inspect the afore-mentioned damage in the mirror.

 The large pilot caught a whiff of something as the dog walked past and allowed himself a grin of his own.

 "Um.....that's some fine smellin' perfume you've started wearin' my boy......" Smirking, the pilot shook his head before heading out of the tent.

 Max shot him a dirty look before recalling something of importance he had wanted to ask the large bear.

 "Hey Baloo.....wait a minute!" That individual stuck his head back in with an almost cheesy grin.

 "Need some uh......advice, kid?" Max raised an eyebrow. "From who, you? Get serious........"

 Baloo scowled and made to leave again before being glued to his tracks by one very out of place question. "Did you ever know a....what did she say his name was......?" The dog muttered to himself, trying to remember Sophie's words. "Oh yeah, Cool Hands Luke in Cape Suzette? I jus' figured, since he's a pilot too......an' well, him and me, we sorta uh, had a serious disagreement tonight."

 The pilot was back inside the tent in a flash.

 "H-How serious it was I can fully see kiddo."

 Max turned away from the mirror at Baloo's tone. The two looked at each other for a long moment before Max awkwardly cleared his throat.

 "So......I take it ya know him?"

 Baloo clapped a hand over his eyes unexpectedly, causing Max to jump. The gray bear then ran it over his face tiredly.

 "No......" he started, in a voice so low that Max had to lean over to hear him. "I.....uh.......didn't know him myself, but.......I, uh.....um, I was pretty well acquainted with a lady friend o' his."

 Max fleetingly caught the change in Baloo's expression as the pilot coughed and pulled his features into a near scowl to keep from laughing.

 "Tam Margaret, that was her name........if I 'member correctly......"

 Max still said nothing, only watched the changes on Baloo's face with some fascination. Finally the dog spoke up again.

 "So......what's the big secret? Did somethin' happen between 'em? Or did she jus' find out what kind o' pig he really is?"

 Baloo put a hand on his knee and grinned at the young pilot with an understanding look in his eyes, before chuckling, then laughing too hard to stand up straight.

 When he finally looked back at the younger pilot, his eyes twinkled at some kind of joke, though what it was Max was still at a loss to know.

 "Well, uh kid. Let's jus' say that those two had more in common than what poor 'ol Cool Hands ever realized......" 

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 Sure, Max liked the guy, they'd even had a great laugh over an old acquaintance whom the brown dog would have been happier still to have avoided completely.

 But.........even if he was still stiff and sore, bruised and on hiatus, by all that was good and holy, he'd kill that fat bear slowly if Baloo didn't stop that pacing and drumming on the rickety table that seemed to be the only central piece of furniture in these dusty, musty old tents.

 And when the young pilot was done with him, he'd gladly go and polish off Eric as well. *Wherever that blasted traitor is........*

 Baloo was antsy, but Max's sympathy for the reasons behind it was stretched to it's limit.

 Here he was, trying to recuperate, and that _bear_ kept persisting in putting him in a bad temper.

 Well......there was more than one way of calming a person down.

 Max smirked, *Sure he'll forget all about that bump in the morning.*

 Tightening his fist, the young pilot stood up.

 Fortunately for Baloo, a winded individual spattered with mud and grime and looking a good deal younger than what had been noticed before came running through the tent flaps.

 Max and Baloo stared at Eric and more so, stared at whatever jibberish it was that he was throwing at them.

 Finally, something coherent penetrated, though it was still clear as tar when it came to actual deciphering.

 "C'etait....au nord quand je l'aivu....."

 "C-come again?!" Baloo stammered, startled by the racoon's sudden appearance.

 Without saying another word, something shiny, small and gold was pressed into Baloo's hand.

 Something........miraculous.

 "Where did you get this?" Both Eric and Max stood stock still at the ferocity on the gray bear's face, the intensity of the emotion that came with that object carried in his hand, so strongly attached to his heart.

 Eric only looked at the bear, but directed his next remark towards the young pilot who appeared ready to jump out of his skin with anticipation any minute.

 "Max......."

 "What?!!" the racoon raised both eyebrows at the shouted reply, but pressed on.

 "We're settin' a course for the Lebel river. By God, assault or no, we'll be there to try and cross it......."

 "Or die tryin'?" it was a soft remark, it's power creating a near visual tension to pulsate across the room.

 Baloo couldn't seem to take his eyes off of that silly, worn out little instrument.

 If it were a life-line, Eric would still have doubts on Baloo being able to hold it any tighter.

 "Baloo, Kit was found.....uh....in a bad way. He was alive a few days ago......"

 The bear couldn't speak. What could he say? Eric stared at him and continued, although the blasted lump in his throat felt like it was choking him.

 "He.....was taken to Linber. The girl who gave that to me......most probably saved 'is life. But we've _got_ to reach that forsaken river."

 "Kit's in Linber?!"

 "That's where this nurse took care o' him an'......."

 "Where is this nurse?" Baloo looked up. Eric almost didn't recognize him, he seemed so much younger.

 "Gone" the word was quiet. "Gone to find somethin' better, wit' her brother, that good-for-nothin'."

 The burst of malice surprised both the Lieutenant and Max. Baloo saw only the compass.

 More so than at any other time in it's existence, it had guided a path this night, never to be forgotten.

 "She was sorry about that thing." Eric pointed at the flat disk almost apprehensively, considering Baloo's grip on it.

 "She didn't even know that she had it still, left in such a hurry. But she gladly gave it back, 'though she sure didn't have anythin' else to call her own. Her an' that bloke.....didn't have nothin' or nobody left......." the racoon trailed off, embarrassed at his own rambling.

 Baloo looked over it's compass, lightly rubbing a thumb over it's cover, a hundred memories, beautiful, warm, oh so wonderful memories.

 "Kit's alive" he said simply to Max, who felt pretty light himself at the bear's tone.

 "I heard"

 The joy in the pilot's voice would have made anything said in reply seem cold and distant.

 "Kit's.......al-......." Baloo stopped and bolted out of the door. Alive. The pilot's son had survived.

 Eric watched him go, feeling Max's eyes, razor sharp on the back of his head, feeling the coldness inside of him, the hostility all around him.

 But for one brief second, he didn't care.

 Past tents, past soldiers, only stopping at the radio, then finding a frequency. The gray bear knew where it was, it was stamped in his memory.

 Two words. The accompanying emotions too sacred for further explaining. One pilot and several individuals back on the homefront forever defined.....and changed. 

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

April 29, 1945

 Once it had been one of the most beautiful cities on the continent of Eporue, majestic and proud, in spite of it's past turmoil and humiliation.

 A thousand years, a thousand different memories and dreams lived......and now died here as the faint shadow of an overpowering darkness, only now beginning to fade, never leaving completely but retreating to the alleyways, under stairs and the deep recesses of the mind, left the penalty in it's wake.

 The soul of a city......and a people, who could never affort to forget again.

 And before guilt, yet after the deed, comes the punishment. For this nation, for the world that still refused to see and learn the first time, it was more terrifying than anything they could ever have known.

 The ravaged city, once a thing of beauty, now corrupted and decaying, stood ready, praying that this time would be the last and hoping to weather the tempest that would only rejoice in it's destruction, maybe forever.

 The dust, like a shroud, hung over the streets of Linber, which remained quiet and empty......and ready to do it's penance.

 Pock-marked buildings, debris and rubble, unrecognizable, clogging streets......no life to be seen.

 The planes were gone from high above, the pain and terror merely echoes of what they had formerly been, the smoke, the filth, the stench........the silence, and now, the end.

 The tanks slowly creaked forward, a solid line of steel armor. One by one, the tops opened and a helmeted head popped out of each, some with binoculars, other content to merely stare.

 Several thin, moving lines crossed hills and ravaged country to enter the city waiting for them.

 For most, there would never be a moment in their lifetime when they would ever turn back. The soldiers and grim-faced officers, barking out orders but not attempting to maintain a great deal of control, stepped back as the slow lines quickly turned into a raging flood of men, a terrifying mixture of boots on ruined and demolished sidewalks, discovering civilians who protested, terrified, when it helped them.

 Occassional gunfire, the tanks opening with their bombardment as they rolled in to take the place that had been the heart of so much misery, both their own and many others.

 At times cruel, brutal but very effective, the soldiers waged their own battles, down abandoned streets, pillaging, destroying, wreaking revenge which too quickly turned into blind hatred without any kind of reasonable excuse.

 Civilians and soldiers alike ran to get out of their way, once the occupier, now the defeated. The April rains could wash the dust and soot away from none of them, nor could it make this place clean again.

 For one brief moment......victory, but even now......no hope for peace, especially without forgiveness.

 A small soldier, far from his snow-covered home, grasped the symbol of what he believed that he had fought long and hard for and climbed......story after story, to the top of the devastated Reischstag, now destroyed beyond recognition.

 On a stone pillar, he stood and with triumph, tears and a taste of long enduring bitterness, he waved the flag high.

 The occupiers of this country, the Thembrian symbol, high above the loss of what lay below. In the space of moments, the rulers of the terror that had existed, and that had sworn that it would live for a thousand years, was reduced to ashes, a moment captured for all time.

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

 "I don't _care_ how blasted tired you are, I can bet ya my next pay'n then some that I'm more so! Quit yer sniveling....."

 The Sergeant growled at the pale, shivering soldier who seemed barely able to hold onto his own gun, almost pitiful looking in his over-sized shoes that contined to slip and slid underneath him in the mass of mud that passed for a road.

 Line after line of weakened, exhausted men placed a hand on the shoulder of the individual in front of them, marching hypnotically, as though in a trance, some asleep on their feet, their bodies unable to endure any more.

 Trucks blew by, splashing mud and filth high into the air, where it landed on apathetic beings who had seen too much to care for such trivial matters.

 A loud honking finally did bring some of them around as a jeep came crashing through the tanks and supply vehicles, full of it's own importance, much like the individuals inside of it.

 Clean, pressed uniforms, shiny medals and shoes, and the full attention of the exhausted men around them all specifically stated who these people were.

 The burly Sergeant finally turned his attention away from his enlisted underling and gazed contemptuously at the mud-splashed vehicle which sputtered past all of them without a second look back.

 The fatigued, drawn faces watched it go without emotion.

 Curling his lip the Sergeant sneered before pushing the strung-out soldier back in line and jogging a ways, past the slow moving lines, up a bombarded and filth-encrusted hill that overlooked.......a river.

 With a hard look in his eyes, the Sergeant gazed at the tanks and the uniformed soldiers on the other side. Their allies, who now appeared to be facing them down.

 Without a doubt, there was an officer on that opposite bank doing the exact same thing this man was, and shaking his head at the naivete' of those who trusted out of necessity.

 The jeep drove noisily over the newly secured bridge, to a fully bedecked officer, large and intimidating who stood, stone-faced, oblivious to the wind or the chill that carried over from the Lebel river underneath them.

 Out of an Usland-signia carrying jeep, a large bulldog jumped out, straightened his hat and took a moment to spit with a great deal of energy into the treacherous water running full force underneath before reaching out a hand.

 The Thembrian officer eyed it with a gaze far colder than even his homeland and met the eyes of his enemy before shaking the extended hand.

 Uslanders, some too tired to stand up, still found it in themselves to cheer wildly. But the cheers ended quickly, met by silence on both sides as the two generals gave each other a quick nod....and returned to their own prospective camps, tanks ready, troops ready.......and waiting.

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

The radio crackled violently and Eric winced as he adjusted it.

 Having no other pressing reason to stay on it, the Lieutenant it off distractedly and put his head down with a sigh.

 *Well.......that was it.*

 No one could say that he didn't try. But that was it.

 Orders, authority........Linber was not a place that anyone wanted to be right now, from all guesses and assumptions that was where Kit was, hopefully still alive. But it simply did not look good.

 The Thembrians had probably completely overran the city, or would in a few days time, after nearly reducing it to rubble, but Alemany was still intact. From those he'd actually seen around the river, standing around, sometimes seemingly afraid of their own shadow, those within that city weren't the rookies that some of these boys appeared to be.

 Didn't seem to matter the time or the place, or even the bloody war.......orders, regardless of who Eric blamed or wearily forgave after decades of pain, were the same.

 If only...........he could walk away.

 If only there was no more hope or anticipation.

 Still....there was no access to the city, it was in Thembrian hands now, when the two sides had met and the surrender was about to become official.

 In the meantime, there was no food, and the possibility of a still severely injured young man out there who, if he didn't find a way to get himself out, could be trapped for who knew how long?

 And although they were allies, Eric knew that there was little or no chance of convincing anyone how badly his small trio needed to get into that city.

 Red tape.....cold and brutal.

 Eric heard the tent door flutter and the now familiar voice of the boy's father speak up.

 "So......how soon are we gettin' in that dust pit? Figure it'll be easier to find Kit now, 'specially since the city ain't likely to be teemin' with......" "What?"

 The bear's expression, at first happy and relieved, changed as Eric stared at him bleakly and rubbed his eyes.

 "We're not goin' in.......orders came through."

 "But...I thought you said that we had clearance to go anywhere we needed! This ain't even a military operation!!" The gray bear's complete frustration was hard for Eric to tolerate, especially with the guilt he experienced when he dealt with the pilot.

 He was actually starting to like the chap.......reminded him strongly of some of his old cronies. There was a part of him hidden deeply and securely, ready to show itself at the risk of excruciating pain, that even envied the large bear.

 At least the pilot had a son.

 A wave of bitterness almost wiped away the pressing guilt for a moment. Almost....but not quite.

 "There's no more clearance for anybody in their right mind. Place is a hell-hole. They're lettin' the Thembrians overrun it"

 "A-and then what?! Wait 'till Kit don't got any more options an' then decide that it's okay to let us try an' help him? You know what you can do with yer orders.......I'm headin' there right now!!"

 Eric, still sitting, waited patiently as the bear stomped out, then seconds later stomped back in.

 "Um.......got any maps or instuctions on how ta get there?"

 "You won't get there, especially not on foot. We..........I know it's awful, but we need to wait. I'm sorry"

 Silence, terrible for the racoon after these last two words were spoken.

 For Eric, they were so empty, meaningless.

 Baloo, having heard the same phrase time and time again, didn't listen or notice the Lieutenant's expression.

 Eric turned back to the radio, hand shaking, that empty apology ringing in his ears.

 The racoon felt....strange, _very_ strange, he'd let too much go, perhaps....something seemed to be happening to him, the tent began to blur, the normal sounds of the camp becoming louder and louder, roaring as the shells shook the earth, the trenches stretched as far as the eye could see and faces, wave after wave, went down.

 Gasping, the racoon could hear voices over the terrible din, he could see the images coming from the floodgate he had opened, as he felt his own emotions dethaw.

 "He left.......and you came back in his place." "One more lads, an' it's ours.......bloody war'll be over, I swear that this time it'll be over!!" "We don't need to see or hear anymore, the war's gone, there's no place for you here......" No place, it's all over......who is your enemy and who is your friend?!

 "Eric!" the racoon was jolted back with a sudden shaking sensation.

 Baloo was shaking his shoulders roughly, a look of near shock and confusion on his face.

 "I-I'm.........I'm all right. I'm sorry.......I'm truly.....so-" The Lieutenant was gone, past the pilot, out the door, with amazing speed, Baloo's words barely reaching him before he was gone.

 "Hey......Eric, you sure that yer........" Eric didn't hear the rest.

 Baloo stared at the now empty seat, his mind in a tailspin, sinking deeper and deeper.

 He didn't understand this, any of it.

 Not this individual, not this war, not this whole catastrophic horror that he'd heard about, and especially not Eric's demons that had scared him to death, although he knew nothing about them.

 Just when he thought that there wasn't much that could still frighten him.

 Not thinking too much about it, the bear followed Eric, to the......hangar?

 Could stand for one here, especially with how ill-prepared this whole area seemed to be, hopefully anywhere up north, along this river bed was better than here.

 An old, rusty beat-up shed that didn't house any kind of aircraft now. It had all been taken, or it was all in use at better, more strategic positions.

 The Lieutenant was in the doorway, chest heaving, as he paused and put his hands on his knees.

 The bear, knowing full-well that Eric realized he was there, spoke up again.

 "I asked.........""I said that I'm fine!!"

 Silence. The Lieutenant felt humiliated.

 Just what was happening to him?! He didn't think he wanted to know, after all of these years...... Why did that precious barrier crack and fall apart now?

 Baloo stood, feeling awkward and tongue-tied, a rare occurrence for him.

 "It's called shell-shock I believe."

 The gray bear didn't know how to reply to that.

 "Bloody term, useless I'd wager......" "Tell me Baloo, you know anybody who served in the Great War?"

 Eric gave a short laugh, "Great War......what the hell are we in now? I don't know what to call it then."

 The racoon's intense gaze finally met Baloo's.

 "'Sides me o' course"

 Baloo didn't feel compelled to tell this man what was one of the most private issues of his life. Kit, Louie, maybe Rebecca. No one else.

 A wave of pain, familiar, Baloo could have called it by name he knew it so well.

 Eric saw the wave as it passed over the large bear's face. He wondered at it.........

 But he didn't pry, just as he respected those who returned the courtesy to him.

 He felt the familiar guilt, as much as the pilot felt and encountered his own demons. The racoon felt, he knew a part of his shame, or the continual weakening.

 He didn't remember ever behaving like a coward, or with any kind of deviousness.

 But to stand here and pretend to be this individual's friend was low. Particularly when he was responsible and he knew the truth.

 "Baloo, tell me, when did you decide you had to fly for a livin'? When did you.....uh, hear the call I should say?"

 The pilot looked at Eric as though he'd grown a new head. *What left field did that come out of?* But he remained all ears.

 Another short laugh. "The sirens, the beckoning, whatever those blokes choose to call it, same for sailors, the sea, us.......and the sky."

 It was as if he didn't expect Baloo to answer, as if he didn't want to hear anything but his own voice. Eric continued speaking, opening doors, talking of the one thing that had brought him real freedom, preparing himself for what he had to say later on.

 "Stars........they sure are beautiful aren't they?"

 Baloo shook his head, deciding to humor the temporarily crazy Lieutenant and both looked up at the indigo canvas with countless tiny lights, twinkling down.

 Clear, open, the wind blew lightly as they stared, finding whatever peace they could, whatever they couldn't find here on solid ground, in that vast place.

 Endless.......

 "I always loved 'em. Always been like an old friend, when the world was fallin' to pieces 'round me. They're lovely.......but so cold. It's as if we're nothin' to 'em. Blink of an eye and we're gone, never remembered."

 Baloo was feeling persistently uneasy. This wasn't typical behavior for the racoon. Well, it wasn't typical any way you looked at it.

 The Lieutenant was circling something and Baloo felt a sudden foreboding as to what it was.

 "Uh.......your son, he um.....doesn't look like you, does he? More like your.......wife?"

 Finally the large pilot responded. "Not married, an' Kit.......well, it's a _long_ story......but he's as much my own kid as any other parent's claim on their kids can be."

 "Long story huh? Another time maybe" The racoon didn't sound as if he meant it.

 "Kit was a fantastic pilot, one of the better I've seen.......and I've seen my fair share. He learn all o' that from you?"

 The words were casual but Baloo felt as though they were daggers aimed directly at his heart.

 "Yeah I taught him or at least I tried to. Kit was a great student......had the love for it, he just seemed to ache fer it at times. I taught 'im everythin' I could think of an' he had......._has_ a good head on his shoulders. Smart, smart as anythin', an' a heart of gold"

 "He had everythin' it took to be the best......"

 This time Baloo waited for Eric to correct his past tense.

 It was almost devastating when the racoon didn't, the Lieutenant merely looked at the gray bear with those hooded eyes, obviously deep in his own thoughts.

 "I-I loved 'im......more than my own life. Woulda given everythin' I had to make sure he was always safe. That kid jus' didn't have the makings to sit around and let others suffer. Maybe that's why I'm so damned proud of him."

 "He's the best, better'n almost anyone else I've known, and everythin' that was in his life afore meetin' Rebecca and me jus' yelled out the for the opposite. It shoulda made him bitter and hard an' instead it made him into someone I always hope I can be like someday. Selfless."

 "Not another kid like him.......anywhere." Baloo knew he was rambling on, yet he didn't care. He knew that Eric didn't mind, that the racoon even understood a great deal of what he was saying.

 It was that way with a great deal of the things that Baloo said around the Lieutenant.

 The bear didn't open a tight knit circle of friends very often, despite his jovial, friendly attitude towards most people, but he felt a comraderie with the racoon.

 It was a great many things......but mostly, that unspoken understanding. Baloo, in spite of what he'd seen and heard from and about Eric, respected him.

 And Eric felt as though he were on the rack, his guilt reaching a climatic point with the bear's touching openness about his son.

 But........."An' Kit got the love of flyin' from you?"

 Baloo shook his head, returning from his reminicising reluctantly.

 "No......he had it in him fer as long as even he could remember. Jus' born with it, I suppose. He had the passion. An' that's what you need. _I_ felt it, an' I sure wasn't the same afterwards. It's........like somethin' draws you, an' ya ain't the same up there as you are down here. I did think once that nothin' could compare to it. But there _are_ a few things that are better, like sharing it with someone who feels the same way you do."

 "Ain't nothin'......uh, well.....here on earth like it, pardon the expression."

 Eric looked very pale suddenly. Baloo looked at him curiously.

 "You know how it is......dontcha?" The bear already knew the answer. He had felt it from the first second that he had met this person.

 The Lieutenant knew it, had felt it. Only someone else who possessed the same knowledge could recognize it.

 Baloo cleared his throat as an old, slightly broken up memory came to him. He didn't voice it right away though.

 "You were a pilot yerself weren't ya? I, uh.......even heard some stories. Had no idea that the joe some always talked about, who worked with some of the greats was......um, you."

 There, he'd said it.

 Although he had already met with some well-known names such as Whistlestop Jackson, Baloo had to tell himself sternly to not be overly impressed.

 Supposedly, the racoon was one of the better pilots of his age, though his name or individual stories weren't familiar anymore.

 That was something Baloo respected even more. He'd sometimes wondered, after hearing about it, if Kit had had any idea.

 Not much was known about the racoon, he was certainly a mystery.

 But the Lieutenant didn't take the bait nor did he answer any of Baloo's unspoken questions. He didn't even crack a smile.

 "Yeah.....I did. Crazy fools, some of 'em. Loved the feeling though. Jus'.....y'know, feeling the earth drop away. Guess if you prefer to be up there an' spend most o' of yer time there it's only natural that sooner or later, you fine tune your abilities, though learnin' it sure didn't come easy. 'Specially not for an old trench-dweller like me."

 Silence again. Baloo didn't know why he wanted to continue this drifting conversation. Maybe it was the feeling that so much more was being said besides the words and the sentences that merely formed a structure.

 "So.......why aren't you married? I mean, if ya don't mind my askin'"

 "I'm a confirmed bachelor, never really wanted to deal wit' the 'ol ball and chain, y'know......"

 Eric's eyes were far away, the faintest shadow in his eyes of something Baloo had known at one time, but which had slowly faded into the background, only re-emerging at strange, inopportune moments, with the right kind of person.

 Baloo shook his head as the vague thoughts and even vaguer image left, but still he concentrated on Eric's expression.

 The coldness softened whatever memory was there, but it still held value.

 "Had the chance......but things change. People too, I suppose."

 The still aimless conversation, still inconsequential for Baloo, suddenly became tense again for Eric.

 The nature of the conversation had drifted too far away from the subject that the Lieutenant wanted, yet dreaded, to talk about.

 Deceitful......cowardly, the words continued to flash in the racoon's brain as he stood next to the large bear.

 He couldn't pretend to be this man's friend. He couldn't stand here and be silent any longer.

 "I asked about Kit for a reason......"

 Baloo nodded, his countenance questioning and uncertain. The racoon returned to that place deep inside of him, cold and unfeeling, to avoid having to bear the full impact of what he was about to say.

 "I'm sure Max has told you everything? He's a royal pain in my neck, but a sharp kid. He didn't know exactly what was goin' on though........an' why circumstances lead up to the point that Kit had to leave."

 Baloo stood very still, sure that something was about to happen, although he didn't think he wanted it to run it's full course. The vibes were certainly negative and Eric went on, his voice flat, and absolutely devoid of any kind of excess emotion.

 "I went into this business 'cause I was asked to. Needed a bloke wit' no extra distractions, some poor chap with a reputation. I tried to run things the best way I could, but up 'till this point, it jus' seemed like a losin' battle. I didn't want the hassle of the press, I wanted some peace. But, Baloo, after awhile....... if nobody knows what yer tryin' to do with somethin' like our operation, then you're jus' beggin' to run out o' options.....not to mention money."

 Again, Baloo nodded. That was certainly something he could relate to.

 "Well, I had an opportunity an' I took it. I had an old position wit' the Great War......afterwards, bloody world war, jus' like this, I suppose they'll hafta think of a different name for it."

 The racoon could have kicked himself.......he had to stay on track here.

 "But war doesn't last forever, an' neither do my savings. I'm too damn old to join the rat race again, an' the old school's dyin' out, new breed 'o pilots is takin' their place. What I needed was some security, instead of just goin' where the wind took me. Jus'......you get tired, tha's all."

 "Don't know exactly how those chaps know, but there are always the leeches, the ones what knows how to suck every dime outta this war an' everyone in it. All's they told me was that I'd get a fair share, more'n fair.....pretty large bankroll actually, an' that eventually the supplies would end up where they needed to be......for a price."

 "It's always the rich what gets to live the good life or gets to survive in this case. Can't eat money, so's without the right stuff it's little comfort. I've been trusted my whole life and for awhile, I wasn't obvious with having to drop the supplies off right where I was instructed to. The lads didn't question it at first either. But then this war was comin' to an end, an' my way out was 'bout to slam shut, so's I got careless, assumin' that as long as it was the right supplies, no one would question how much was bein' dropped off or where."

 "Kit........idealistic lad, he knew somethin' was wrong, he tried askin' me 'bout it but I jus' shrugged him off, thought it was only average curiousity. Right before he, uh......left, he confronted me, he was confused and angry. He jus' didn't understand that life's more complicated then the basic right or wrong, black an' white. Too many shades of gray there. I've seen his type, they jus' drop like flies out there in battle. Those selfish bastards what seem to control everythin' never seem ta get touched, only those boys, all because they were the one's most willin' to do so."

 "If I could've prevented it, I would have, but I didn't know the lad would take it upon himself to do as he pleased an' hang everyone else. Well.......my _associates_ or whatever you choose to call the blood-suckers, they got skittish when the pressure was on, an' left me holdin' the bag, an' standin' here."

 Absolute silence.

 Eric wasn't often intimidated but he backed away from the look of complete, black, fury on Baloo's face.

 "So the only reason yer helpin' search fer him is to relieve yer conscious? Or maybe you need to come up with proof, a body......so's you can show yer _friends_" the bear sneered viciously at the word, "that the only problem in yer little operation is now outta the way."

 Eric made no attempt to stop the tirade. The accusing voices he kept hearing almost drowned out Baloo's voice.

 "I oughta strangle you right now......ta think I actually.....an' Kit.....you......." the bear was so infuriated that he could only sputter.

 "I should radio in ta anybody, everybody an' tell them what you did, or is everyone involved in this too? You wanna play games with other people's lives, then I'm sure as hell gonna make sure you pay for it!!"

 With one fluid movement, Eric side-stepped the punch.

 "Baloo.....let me explain......." a rather hard thing to do as he kept having to dodge the repeated swings.

 "Explain what?!! You........yer jus' as guilty as those murderin'.......why dontcha join up on their side, yer perfect fer each other"

 "I said I'll find 'im then I'll take......hey! whatever responsibility, would you.....?! for my actions, but first we gotta find Kit."

 Finally Baloo stopped, breathing hard, his expression terrible to look at.

 "No......" he said, his voice dangerously quiet.

 "_I'll_ find Kit, I'll get him the hell outta here.......and I'm gonna watch you squirm for all o' this, now."

 Eric stared at him for a moment before answering.

 "How? How're you supposed to do that? You can't get into Linber, you don't know if Kit's gotten out by now......."

 "I don't need help from the likes of you! What do you know about it anyways?!"

 Eric's gaze was hard........very hard. Baloo backed off.

 "What do _you_ know about war? About what you're goin' into? What's here.....all o' this? Nothin', it's a bloody vacation compared to where Kit's at...."

 "Thanks to you!!"

 "I never told him to go anywhere, he did that himself......an' I'm ready to face up to what I've done, I confessed didn't I?"

 "What do you want from me? A medal?!"

 Eric folded his arms. "Time, what I want from you an' everyone else is time. An' then we'll find your son."

 "_We_ won't find anything!!" Bitter dissappointment showed plainly on the bear's face. "Get outta my sight, you caused all 'o this. Like I said, yer just as guilty as the scum that started this nightmare."

 Eric almost flinched at that, forcing himself to come out of his shell as he turned and began walking away, slowly, faster, and finally running......though he couldn't escape the voices that followed him.

 *Guilty.....never again be clean.......never........*

 Eric knew where he needed to go, with or without permission.

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May 1 1945

Crystal blue, pure, so clear that any casual observer could stare straight to the bottom of this South Pacific sea. The coral, the brightly colored fish, the swirls of gray, green, aquamarine combining, then pulling apart, dancing around the sun's warmth, when it showed it's bright face, fleeing away from it's penetrating beams, sleeping softly beside the silver moonlight.

 A picture, painted millenium ago, now existing beside man and beast. Or maybe a combination of the two.

 A long, wooden beam, joined by several others was noticed by a tiny, red and creme colored inhabitant of this sleepy scene. This small local skirted around the large obstacle apprehensively.

 After all, who knew what lay behind those barnacle-encrusted intruders? And the little fish was not about to become anyone's midnight snack.

 Bright lights surrounded the wooden huts, some of which seemed rather worn, but still those grass doors were always open, welcoming all who chose to enter, and the laughter, music and softly detached atmosphere of the place reminded many, especially during this time, of something which would remain forgotten for a long time.

 Louie's helpers were strangely subdued this night. Oddly enough, so was the entire place, though it was filled to bursting with people, standing, crowding, pushing against those rickety walls, as there seemed to be nowhere at all to sit.

 All eyes focused on the rather outdated radio, with it's well worn knobs, sitting in a place of esteem, on Louie's bar.

 An orangutan, with another familiar but equally well-worn straw hat placed securely on his, (though he'd never admit it) balding head, held one large hand on the radio's warm, buzzing top and gazed at these people in his place.

 The faces may change, but strangely enough, they remained the same, hopeful, waiting, expectant.

 Year after year, he'd seen them come and go, never really caring if any of their personal business seem to collide with each other.

 But tonight, this radio and the power it had possessed through four years of war and dread was everyone's business.

 The bartender fondly patted it, remembering how many times it had influenced him and those closest to him.

 ~Tell Baloo.......tell Papa Bear!~ A crushing sadness blotted out the ape's former calm. Where they were, those two who should have been here tonight, was something he could only imagine, though the hope was still alive and kicking.

 Louie gently reached over and grasped a cap that another guest he had specially invited, one who sat with her silent and pale daughter in the seat of honor in front of the small contraption, had brought with her.

 Unconsciously the orangutan looked at Rebecca Cunningham for approval, but she wasn't staring at him.

 She only kept her arm wrapped tightly around Molly's shoulders and kept the other hand in her lap, maybe to hide how much it was trembling.

 A squeal, a wave of static and a low murmuring in the room as a connection was lost. Louie's helpers scurryied over to the fickle piece of machinery but a work-hardened, still rather greasy hand reached across to thump the radio lightly, as though the mechanic was burping a baby.

 Another squeal, then the subdued silence.

 "Hey, uh......Louie. I think you're radio's sick 'cause it keeps losin' it's voice.........." the lion gazed over at the bartender worriedly.

 "Hush Wildcat" the command was abrupt, but not harsh or angry. Molly smiled slightly at her friend, although it didn't reach her eyes, and the lion, oddly astute when it came to the girl, gave her a squeeze before taking his seat again, ready to pounce on that transmittor if it gave them any more, ahem.....static.

 His efforts were fortunately not needed. A low, grave voice came crackling through and the room held it's breath as one.

 "The news has been confirmed on this date, May 1st, 1945. Alemany has officially and unconditionally......surrendered"

 One line, one moment. It was over. For those foolish enough to believe it, for those who weren't, didn't matter, never would. It was over.

 No cheering, no wild jubilation as Louie, looking all of his years and more, turned off his well used radio. Another time, another place, and the joy would be near to overwhelming.......but here the sacrifice and loss that every occupant of this room had faced was too much to dare celebrating it's end for.

 All were silent and grateful, but this time there was the unspoken, 'never again'

 For Rebecca, her daughter Molly, Louie and Wildcat, it was hollow and superficial.

 Louie felt a passing wish for Bess to be here, but she was at the hospital where she gave aid occasionally, although he knew her heart was here with them.

 The ape glanced at Rebecca and her stony countenance.

 Placing a competent hand on her shaking shoulder, the bartender focused his kind gaze on her.

 "Kin I get ya anythin' Rebecca?" A sharp shaking of that bearess' head.

 Molly looked over at Louie, her large brown eyes full of worry. The ape winked at her, though he didn't feel up to the task.

 "Hey, uh Louie?"

 The ape glanced at Baloo's mechanic a trifle wearily.

 "Do ya think that this little guy can get a signal from Baloo? I mean, I think he may need ta hear the news......from a friend, man"

 The bartender, about to make a rather droll comment about Baloo being in about the best place there was to find out any and all news there was to be had died on his lips as he took the lion's full meaning.

 "You're sure as anythin' welcome ta try, WC. With good luck to go along wit' it."

 Rebecca didn't look up at the lion's tinkering, or at Louie's concerned gaze. The ape would have offered words of comfort and assurances that her pilot......and navigator, couldn't really think of that boy any other way, would come back.

 Hell, he'd even give her a hanky for those tears but he knew that it wasn't what she wanted.

 Molly hugged her mom tightly, too empty to cry anymore.

 The water still lapped at this shoreline and far, far off in the distance, the city of Cape Suzette had a moment of crazed, exultating joy.

 Fireworks, music, laughing and crying. And it was more than the sea that would seperate such places.

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"..........officially and unconditionally......surrendered" Background static, but no voices were heard.

 "Hey, turn that piece o' junk off!!" One young soldier snapped irritated, resting his head in his hands, trying to sleep.

 The tent was jam-packed with people, some standing on the outside, pushing and joustling each other to hear what they already knew.

 The was a whine, then a sharp click as the transmission was ended. Several officers, bedecked with ribbons and the like, turned to face the crowd with matching expressions of jubilation on their faces.

 The crowd, however, remained sober and distant. Some were dirty, smeared with traces of sweat and lined with fatigue and lack of sleep, but they looked the same.......victorous. But.......the price.

 One by one, their hats were removed, heads low, silence, with only the wind possessing the presumption of interrupting such a moment, with it's whistling through the flaps, and breathing against the sides like a living thing.

 A young, brown dog stood in the far corner, arms folded, a hundred miles away. Maybe wishing that someone had been there to join him......but would never be again.

 A large, older gray bear stood outside, tired, aged. With one movement, he fished out a piece of paper from deep within his handy flight shirt. It was well fingered and quite filthy, the words smeared.

 "If anything happens......hope not, but if anything _does_, this is for my family. Any red-blooded pilot'll know 'em, no worries. Just.....tell 'em it's for Baloo. An' tell him it's for the future........

 "To Follow" -Kit Cloudkicker

Calling, summoning, all trails lead here
The music decieves you, yet still they lead here
Of nights of memories, of cold and of fear
Through children, generations, the trails lead here
 
Those who chose to follow
Those who won't return
Those who sit there waiting
Those who'll never learn
 
And still this path will guide you
And still the war goes on
And still those who will never see
or care who's lost or won
 
And all the lights grow darker
The candles all go out
The causes and the glory
And what it's all about
 
You can't pretend to understand
you can't pretend to see
That those who hear the Piper's tune
among them all is me......."

Baloo's eyes blurred....it was something Kit could have written, with all of his imagination, his sensitivity.

 It was an apology, it was an explanation, it was a promise. Not before, and not now, could the navigator ever be content to turn away.

 If only the pilot could give him up that easily.

 If only.....

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May 2, 1945

The Lieutenant tipped his cap to the burly looking driver and his over eager companion as the jeep buzzed off noisily.

 "Best 'o luck, gramps!!"

 The racoon grimaced. *Smart alec whipper snapper.....* Eric stopped himself. By all the stars above him, he was even starting to _sound_ older than he felt. No matter

 What he needed right now was info, and to stay one step ahead of whoever might be trying to stop him.

 Uneasily, Eric looked behind him, in that dust-choked road. The only thing visible was potholes and the occassional bedraggled individual that came through, coughing and cursing.

 Still........*Can't be too careful, if.....that bear* Eric stopped himself. *Baloo, Kit's father.....sounded as good as his threats* The racoon didn't even want to think about what was going to happen when he got back.

 That is, assuming he would even go back. He had no ties, not here, and not there either. Just had to wait and see.

 *Kit's a pilot, his dad's a pilot.....would make sense that the first friendly people or place he would try and contact would be an airfield.....* That is, Eric hoped with every fiber of his being that that was the case. It was his neck on the line otherwise.

 *That is....if he got out of Linber...* That single thought chilled the racoon's blood. If not, then they were in for rough waters. The Lieutenant really didn't feel like going into that city, and he sure as anything didn't feel welcome here, with all of these unfamiliar faces and the even more unfamiliar language confronting him everywhere he went.

 *Can't be that bad......Thembrians are supposed to be on _our_ side.* Yeah, they were supposed to be in the last one too, and look what happened then.

 The nearest airfield was at the other end of this forsaken town......Zurick, or something like that. What he needed could be there.......

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The breeze was still quite brisk against him, but that wasn't going to bother Kit now. He'd hit paydirt.

 *Now.....who would leave all of this lyin' around?* Not that the young man was complaining.

 Shaking off the persistent feeling of guilt, Kit continued to dig in, the holes in that forsaken pit of a building offering temporary shelter, as he ate like he'd never remembered eating before. And hallelujah to that.........

 It was just an old grocery store, besides......he helped them, and so on and so forth. *Scratch my back and I'll scratch their's*

 The grin was quickly wiped off of the young man's face as he ducked down, a typical reaction as he heard some sharp, commands coming from the outside. The language, not Alemanian, was still nothing to trifle with.

 Kit, hearing the voices come closer, flattened himself against the floor of the dusty bombed-out structure.

 Rolling his eyes and grimacing in annoyance, Kit remembered the paper in his hand, the apology note written to whoever used to own this sad structure, explaining where half of their stock had disappeared to.

 The loud crinkling of the old, dried-up sheet sounded like a cannon shot in it's volume. Kit clamped a hand over his own mouth to keep from saying something sure to be censored later on.

 More loud orders, some shouting, then silence......Kit squeezed his eyes shut. He was in no condition for a fight, especially since he was too thin, too weak and without any weapons......not that he knew the first thing about how to use them here.

 Never had to. The young pilot covered his head as the crunching of footsteps over broken glass and rubble came closer and closer. He was an Uslander.....maybe, although he hated himself for even thinking it.....they would go easier on him because of where he came from.

 The footsteps stopped.

 Kit opened his eyes, slowly, his head aching from the blood pounding in it, egged on by the unusual beat of his heart. It sounded like a flood in his ears.

 The soldier's boots were black and remarkably shiny, considering the massive dust bowl the city had chose to imitate.

 Another set of footsteps, although no boots on this one. In fact.....they were much smaller....as if the owner of the feet was a bit.....uh, shorter, than what would be expected.

 And suddenly, for Kit Cloudkicker, one voice changed everything.

 "Dunder!! Tell me...._who_ ith thith perthon.....and why do I feel like I know him?"

To Be Continued.............