No one ever knew they still sat in the back of his closet.
But they did.
No matter what house they went to, and what knew storage area he got, he always took the ratty old things with him. They were put away immediately before anyone else could see them. He didn't know why he didn't want anyone else knowing about them. Maybe it was because it was one of the last things he owned as a human. Maybe it was because he had used them so often for so many years; had an almost special attachment to them. Maybe it was just because he didn't want someone trying to buy him new ones; somehow find a replacement to these.
And maybe it was because he didn't want to be mocked for bonding with a pair of footwear.
He sat in the back of the closet, in case someone walked into the room. He didn't want to be seen.
In the dark area, surrounded by clothes, he sat on the floor, polishing his beloved army boots.
The things had been falling apart for over a century. The soles were by now almost completely ripped off. The leather heals were worn from their original black to a dirty brown. The laces were broken and matted. There were holes at the ends. They were completely beyond repair.
But he polished away.
So help him, he didn't care how old and worn they were, but he'd endure the worst of tortures before he saw them ever get dirty.
They were his shoes.
He wore them proudly in battle after battle.
They always served him well.
They had never once abandoned him.
And in their old age, their glory days long since passed, he refused to abandon them.
He stiffened momentarily when he sensed someone walk into the room, but immediately relaxed when he recognized the chipper emotions radiating onto him.
A second later the closet door quickly opened and shut once more, and Alice came in and sat next to him, leaning against his shoulder.
No words were needed.
She had known for a long time how important the old things were to him. He had still been wearing them in the diner when they met. When she had commented about buying him a new pair—throwing those ones out—he had stiffened. She asked why. He told her without hesitation.
Through everything—through his 16th birthday, through the Civil War, through war after war alongside Maria, through killing innocents, through his stay with Peter and Charlotte, through meeting Alice, they had been with him. She understood that. She never tried to buy him new ones to replace the old; never pushed him into getting more modern, better cared for ones. She always had been one to only wear a pair of clothes once before throwing them out the door, but that didn't stop her from realizing the importance of these.
They were the one thing in the world that he had always known were his, and his alone.
He had gotten several hundreds of pairs since then. They all came and went.
But the army boots never left his closet.
And every once in a while, Alice would come in and help him clean them.
She never thought of it as a lost cause if it made him happy.
4. He never was able to part with his old shoes.
