Summary: When sudden tragedy strikes, Baloo and the crew from Hire for Higher must cope with unexpected loss, as well as unexpected surprises.


Rebecca Cunningham looked up with relief as the door to Higher for Hire blew open, and the large gray bear lumbered his way in.

"About time," the Boss-Lady grumbled crossly, "So—how did the delivery run go?"

Instead of an answer, she was met with an uncanny, stony silence.

"Um…Baloo…?" Rebecca stood, watching with slack-jawed surprise as Baloo simply walked on past her. He was walking strangely—moving as slowly as if he were moving through molasses, or perhaps quicksand—without even responding to her once. It was as if she weren't even in the room—as though he hadn't even heard her speak. He then proceeded up the stairs without even a nod.

"BaLOO—!" Her voice rose to a shout but she froze upon impact when her hand gripped his arm, and he turned around almost sharply to face her when they met each other halfway up the stairs. The look on his face was one she'd never seen—it was almost like she was staring into the eyes of a stranger—for while his entire frame practically trembled with unspoken emotion, his eyes were completely empty of expression. They were like staring into a deep blank void. "Baloo…" Rebecca's voice faltered as she reached out a tentative, almost trembling hand. "Are—are you—"

"Okay?" Baloo's voice rose to a shout with an unexpectedly dangerous glare, "Do I LOOK like I'm 'okay'?" With that, he whirled around and promptly stomped up the remaining stairs, and continued to storm down the hall to his bedroom, at which point the door slammed shut in her face when, against her better judgment, she attempted to follow.

She was about to open the door but halted when she heard the sound of sobbing, and it all but broke her heart into a million pieces.

"Oh—Baloo…" The sound was gut-wrenching, and it took all of Rebecca's resolve not to bust the door open. When she attempted to jiggle the handle, it was surprisingly locked; Baloo never locked the bedroom door, so she knew better than to force her way in. She knew then that whatever had happened that day must have been really dreadful for him to respond like this.

There was silence now on the other side of the door. Rebecca's heart sank, but she knew she best leave him be for the time being; she'd try to bring him some tea later on, and hope beyond hopes that he'd come down for dinner.

It was around 3 pm when Kit breezed through the door. "HI Miz Cunningham!" he sang out happily as he tossed his book bag in the corner. "Where's Baloo!? There's something I gotta tell him—"

"Kit, wait." Rebecca's tone halted him in his tracks. "There's something I've got to tell you first."

Kit froze, his brow knitted with something of concern as well as confusion written over his usually carefree features—reminding her that Kit was far more mature than most kids his age. "Is um…" he hesitated, "there, uh…something wrong, Miz Cunningham?"

"Yes but—it's got nothing to do with me and—it's got nothing to do with you," Rebecca blurted out—then realized at once that she was talking much too fast, and that Kit's eyes were widening more and more with each newly spoken word.

"Then…" Kit sank into Baloo's armchair, suddenly exhausted and it wasn't even dinnertime. "What's it got to do with?" he forced himself to ask.

"...It's Baloo," Rebecca allowed slowly, trying to figure out the right way to word things.

"Baloo!?" Kit sat up with alarm. "Where is he!? What's wrong with him? Is—" He felt his throat go dry with fear. "is…is he sick…?"

"N-no…" Rebecca winced, not sure entirely how to proceed.

Kit felt something drop in the pit of his stomach. This did not sound good at all. "So—" He tried to keep his voice from trembling, fearing the worst. "What…," he managed to insist, "what is it?"

"It's…well…Oh my. How do I explain this?" Rebecca sighed as she sat down in the nearest chair, "Baloo came home today and he—he just really wasn't, er, himself. He—he looked at me like he'd just seen a ghost! I tried to talk to him but he—he just snapped at me—"

Kit frowned at that, shaking his head with deep concern. "That doesn't sound like our Poppa Bear at all."

"I know," Rebecca nodded sullenly. "He—he was very upset. I've never seen him so upset…I'm not sure why, and he won't tell me," she blurted out when Kit looked like he was about to ask, "but he's locked himself in the bedroom upstairs and—I'm sure he'll come out soon and…and he'll explain but….for now," Rebecca rested a gentle hand on Kit's shoulder, "Just…give him some time," she added, giving him a little pat in a tender attempt at reassurance.

"Ok," agreed Kit before promptly giving her a hug—it wasn't something they did often, but he could tell she needed it, and Rebecca didn't argue, accepting the hug gratefully. She was secretly proud of the boy, for how he was handling all this—knowing that Kit was putting on a brave face for both of them. "Hey!" he exclaimed suddenly, "maybe we should make his favorite meal!"

"Okay…" Rebecca agreed (however hesitatingly), "...and….what's…his favorite, er…meal?"

"Erm…" Kit had to think about it (Baloo ate so much food so often, so many different kinds, that he had a hard time keeping track). "Tacos!" he giggled, "They're his favorite!"

"Okay!" Rebecca nodded eagerly, suddenly hopeful, "I think we can manage that! But—" She paused. "Does he prefer chicken…or beef?"

"Both," laughed Kit, "I guess?"

"We'll have to make both then," Rebecca resigned. "Except…Kit, you'll have to help me," she added sheepishly, "I don't usually do the cooking."

Kit stood at attention, saluting. "Sounds good to me!"

Rebecca couldn't help but laugh then, as she felt a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.


They spent the entire afternoon in the kitchen. Even Wildcat, after catching whiff of the simmering meat, got himself involved and lent a helping hand, gathering all the necessary items and ingredients, and adding the recipe for what he called his "Special Sauce" ( "I don't want to know what the word 'special' means," laughed Rebecca in spite of herself).

All the while, the enticing smell of tacos filled the air, and Kit prayed silently that Baloo would take it upon himself to make leave of his sanctuary and come down to join them.

Then came the knock on the door.

They were almost finished and getting ready to set the table when it sounded: three loud knocks—which caused all of them to freeze mid-action, turn, and stare at each other with alarm—because as far as anyone of them knew, none of them had invited any other guests to dinner….

"Yes? How may I—" The words died in Rebecca's throat as she found herself staring at who she thought was Louie Lamont, Baloo's oldest friend and owner of Louie's—then realized it wasn't Louie, but someone who looked almost exactly like him—only younger, and wearing a business suite instead of Louie's typical Hawaiian-style.

"Hi, um, Miss," the Chimp nervously mumbled as he seemed to look everywhere but her face, "I-I was told this is the, erm, the residence of Baloo Von Bruinwald the XIII."

"Yes," said Rebecca hesitating in the doorway, "and who are you?"

"Larry Lamont," the Chimp removed his hat, and looked quite somber, "brother of one Louis—"

"You're Louie's brother!?" Kit burst through before Rebecca could stop him. "Why didn't you say so!? C'mon in, we're having tacos—"

"Kit, wait!" Rebecca tugged him by the collar. "Something's not right. Mr. Lamont," she turned to the stranger, "Why isn't Louie here?"

Larry looked back at her for a moment, then to Kit, then to Wildcat, who were all waiting with bated breath for the other shoe to drop; it was clear that there was a far more pressing urgent matter that had not yet been addressed. "I…." Larry lowered his eyes, "presume Mr. von Bruinwald has not yet informed you?"

"Informed us about what?" Rebecca was starting to get more than a little annoyed. "What's all this about? You just show up out of nowhere—"

"Louis is dead."

The words hung in the air as though someone had cracked a whip.

"D…Dead'?" Rebecca managed to repeat the words, her face ashen as she stared at the sullen chimpanzee.

"Yes ma'am," Louie's brother nodded sadly. "Dead."

"Miz Cunningham…" Kit had tears in his eyes as slowly he looked at her in shock, and for a moment they could only stare at each other before Kit suddenly sprung to action. "I have to talk to Baloo—!" He turned and was about to run upstairs, but Rebecca grabbed him once more, but this time by the waist. "Let me go!" Kit demanded, struggling, but Rebecca held firm.

"I can't let you do that right now, Kit," Rebecca insisted as he continued to squirm, "Baloo is clearly in a state of shock—"

"But he's my friend!" Kit snapped and, before she could stop him a second time, he managed to squirm out of her grasp and was darting up the stairs with all his might, at the top of which he bounded to the closed door, which he found to his dismay was locked. In desperation, he pounded hard three times and yelled, "BALOO, c'mon, Poppa Bear, open up! It's me, it's Kit—"

"Go 'way," came the muffled response from the other side of the door.

"Oh, Baloo!" Kit groaned in frustration, "I know about Louie, and—"

"I SAID, go AWAY, lil britches!" There was anger building in Baloo's voice that Kit wasn't used to hearing.

"C'mon, Baloo," Kit couldn't stop his own voice from cracking, "Louie's brother's downstairs waiting for you."

Silence.

"We gotta talk about this."

Silence.

"C'mon Baloo…" Kit pounded on the door, "We made tacos for dinner: your favorite!"

Silence.

"FINE!" Kit snapped, "but you can't stay in there forever!" Completely frustrated, he threw his hat on the floor with resignation and stomped back downstairs, where, to his surprise, Larry Lamont had joined the rest of them at the dinner table. "Guess you'll be having Baloo's share," Kit grumbled with annoyance as he took a seat.

"He's not coming?" Rebecca looked worriedly towards the second floor. "Did you tell him what we're having…?"

"He—" Kit started to speak, but lowered his eyes with embarrassment, "He…just told me to go away," he muttered, ignoring Larry Lamont's pointed gaze.

"I'm sorry Kit," Rebecca offered as she tried to remain calm (while secretly she was furious with Baloo for dismissing Kit so easily). "Try not to take it personally. He'll…come out eventually." She turned then to their guest, "Mr. Lamont…I hope you like street tacos? We were making them for Baloo but…"

"Oh, yes, yes, yes," Larry Lamont nodded eagerly, his eyes brightening easily as he readily accepted a full plate of tacos both chicken and beef, "I grew up on street tacos—they were our—our favorite…" He lowered his eyes somberly, suddenly remembering; the others looked away when they saw tears in his eyes.

"Oh, Mr. Lamont—I'm so sorry about Louie," Rebecca took his hand in hers politely. "We know how special he was."

"Louie was amazing!" Kit gushed, all starry-eyed, "he made me these incredible sundaes, they were called Krakatoa Specials! Lots of times, he and Baloo would—" he stopped himself when he realized what he was saying, suddenly crestfallen as the harsh reality of the situation kicked in—and before he could stop himself, tears sprang to his eyes and he was sobbing; Rebecca rushed immediately to his side, holding and rocking him as he imagined a mother would, which only made him cry harder, he couldn't believe Louie was gone; she kept holding him and stroking his head, and for a moment he forgot about the rest of them, but when he realized Larry and Wildcat were both watching, he shuddered with embarrassment and turned away, wiping furiously at his tears. "Man-I'm such a baby!" he chastised himself, kicking the floor with frustration.

"No, Kit," Wildcat placed a gentle paw on his shoulder with a reassuring nod. "We understand."

"Hey, Cuz," said Larry, "I been cryin' too, you know, lotsa times, ever since I found out about the robbery."

"What robbery?" Kit wiped his eyes, staring at the man with alarm.

"Oh," Larry lowered his eyes, as a sudden shadow seemed to descend over him, "there was a break-in at the Place, you know, and—the robber got away before they could arrest him but he shot up the place and Louie well—he didn't make it…Oh, my poor little brother Louis…." He turned away, wiping his own eyes in vain. "He didn't even know what hit him, poor boy, the bullet made an impact so quick."

"Oh, my Gosh!" Kit gasped in shock, his eyes growing wide with horror, then crumpling with grief, "oh, Louie…" He shuddered as the tears began to flow again. Then he realized something-something awful, something that he wasn't even sure could be said…. "You don't think…." he began, his voice starting to tremble, "that…Baloo…."

"Oh, my God!" Rebecca's face turned white as she realized what Kit was referencing. "Mr. Lamont…" She cringed as she faced him, "When did this…." She tried to search for the right word. "...event…occur?"

"Today, ma'am," Larry allowed grimly. "They had Mr. von Bruanwald as one of the witnesses….but he's also on Louis's will and…the officials sent me to talk to him about it. I've got the deed and everythin'-"

"The 'DEED'?" Rebecca, Kit, and Wildcat all said together.

"Why yessir," nodded Larry, "the Deed! Was Louie's wish, for his oldest friend to carry on his legacy for him, in the unfortunate event that he should…succumb," he concluded, with a finality that left them all shuddering.

"B-b-but—" Rebecca sputtered, "Aren't you his brother? You're next of kin, doesn't that mean you'd get the deed to his place—?"

"Well er—" Larry blanched, "Louis and I weren't really that close, ya know—we're siblings by blood, is all, but—otherwise we got no connection, really. Only come together for family emergencies like this, you see…but Mr. von Braunwald Louie saw as family and, well, I'm not here to stand in the way," Larry added plaintively, "I'm here to give him my blessing."

"Blessing!?" Rebecca echoed in shock.

"Don't worry," Kit said, quickly snatching the Deed, "I'll make sure he gets it!"

"So wait a second—" Rebecca stammered, "that means—Baloo OWNS Louie's!?"

"Yes," nodded Larry, "it does! Now—do you mind if I chow down on this here food for a few? I'm starvin!"

"I can't believe it…" Rebecca sank into her chair, "how's he going to do all this—AND fly for Higher for Hire—?"

"Baloo can do it," Kit said furtively with confidence, "he's the greatest!"

"I've never met the man," said Larry, "but from what I've heard, he surely sounds more than capable!"

"Oh he is," grinned Kit. "He's only the best pilot that ever lived!"

"He's definitely good at being a bush pilot," agreed Wildcat, "but he's definitely not good at being a cook (and I know this because I've tasted his cooking and you wouldn't like it) and I don't think he's ever actually run a restaurant before—"

"WILDCAT!" Kit groaned, beyond frustrated by this point, "It's not a restaurant, it's a nightclub and a hotel on its own little island. And anyways, he can learn! It's not like it's rocket science, you know! Give him a chance, Miz Cunningham," he urged Rebecca, "Baloo can more than easily walk and chew gum at the same time! I mean, consider how often he was flying deliveries for you and also avoiding the air pirates!"

"You know what Kit?" Rebecca thought carefully, "you're right! A nightclub and hotel will most definitely bring us good business—and with good business comes good money." She hugged Kit affectionately by the shoulders. "I bet we can find ways to make this work."

"Alright!" crowed Kit.

"But if he's gonna run a whole nightclub," Wildcat warned, "you're gonna have to get him out of that bed!"


As it turned out Wildcat had a right to be concerned, for it proved to be far more challenging a task than Kit had ever imagined.

Days went by with still no sign of Baloo. He continued to keep the door locked, so Kit slept in his armchair downstairs or inside the Sea Duck. Each day, multiple times a day, he brought trays of food up to Baloo and knocked, three times, on the door; usually, there was no response, only the dreaded silence that continued to invade the entire building like a death march, or the signal of an oncoming apocalypse. Kit tried to go about his normal daily life, following his everyday routine, which always had included Baloo in it. He went to school, came home, and did his chores, and then he made himself a snack. Rebecca came over every night and did the cooking, and she brought Molly along so it was extra fun. At first, the trays of food he brought up to Baloo were left untouched, but three days later, he found only scraps remaining, so at least he knew the big bear was eating something, so he could sleep a little better at night.

Kit knew that this was no ordinary kind of grief. He knew that Baloo had to be hurting badly, and he wasn't sure what to do about it. Baloo and Louie had known each other for a long, long time, and had seen each other through thick and thin. They were like brothers more than friends. They'd gone on many adventures together, just as he and Baloo did, but Baloo and Louie had known each other for years while Kit had only known him for a few. To know Baloo as family, sometimes it seemed like there was no time at all, and everything else in the world slowed down to a standstill; likewise, they could be zipping through the air as fast as the speed of light when they were having fun, and he'd often forget what day it was.

He wondered if Baloo knew how long he'd been in that cave of a bedroom now, as it was almost a week and he hadn't appeared. It reminded Kit of the time the Sea Duck had fallen into disrepair; Baloo had stayed inside a whole week that time too, but they had surprised him with a completely refurbished plane—and all was well again. This wasn't like that, though; he couldn't bring Louie back from the dead, and no matter what, he couldn't seem to get Baloo out of that bed….

Then one day it hit him, the only way that he was going to get Baloo to take action—and Kit hated himself for doing it, but he knew it was the only way. That morning, he took an old ladder that Wildcat had thrown aside (one of the steps had a crack in it, but that was perfect, he wouldn't be actually using it anyway). He leaned it against the side of the building, just beneath Baloo's window. Then he took a pale full of whitewashing paint along with a paintbrush and set it next to the ladder proper. He thought about using tomato sauce for blood (but that seemed far too cruel, so he decided against it). Taking a deep breath, he stood on the lowest rung, making the sound of stepping up the ladder without actually walking it; then, he promptly jumped off, kicked the ladder over, kicked the bucket of paint over, and fell to the ground groaning loudly and holding his leg while screaming, "Baloo! Baloo! Help me! Help."

It seemed like less than a minute that he heard Baloo come running: loud crashes resounded inside as the bear rushed blindly downstairs, tripping over everything in his wake as he ran and stumbled his way outside into the blinding light, where he found Kit writhing and squirming around on the ground, appearing to be in a desperate amount of pain.

"KIT!" Baloo croaked in complete shock as he rushed to the boy's side in utter panic, "what happened to ya!? What hurts!? Talk to me!" he urged as he grabbed Kit by the shoulders, "talk to Old Baloo—" He looked so utterly serious and concerned that Kit suddenly burst out laughing in complete hystics in spite of himself, and he sat up, much to Baloo's astonishment, before fully standing on his own two feet as though nothing happened (because it hadn't, but Baloo didn't know that).

"KIT—" Baloo stammered, "WHAT in the doggone heck are ya DOIN—" He whipped about this way and that, staring all around: first at the broken ladder, then at the paint, then at Kit, who was standing there smiling at him, as he put the pieces together. "Why, you—you—" Baloo's expression darkened with sudden knowledge of the truth, "you're not really hurt are ya?"

"Er…" Kit blushed profusely as he rubbed the back of his head, "n-no—"

"Doggone it, Kit." Baloo's hands curled into fists as he practically trembled with a barely suppressed rage—and an uncanny look of sheer disgust came over his eyes. "You tricked me," he blurted. "You—you actually tricked me, you little rat—how, how could you—!"

"Look, I'm sorry Poppa Bear—" Kit protested sheepishly, "but—you weren't answering me and—and I had to get you out of that room—"

"DAMMIT!" Baloo responded by hurling the paint can into the sea.

"Er, Baloo—" Kit ventured, "that's— not very environmental—"

"Like I GIVE a damn!" Baloo kicked the ladder, only to howl in pain, and then kick it again with the other foot in frustration, only to howl in pain again. "DAMN FINICKY PIECE OF CRAP!" Before Kit could stop him, he had hurled the ladder into the sea as well; it plopped into the ocean with a loud splash, never to be seen again. "And you—" Baloo swung around, his face red with an uncharted fury, "you'd be lucky I don't throw you in next!"

"B-Baloo, wait—" Kit backed away, startled, "-I—"

"What the hell were you thinking, kid!?" Baloo demanded, "You trying to give me a heart attack or somethin'!?"

"N-n-NO!" Kit protested, eyes widening with shock in spite of himself.

"Don't you EVER do that to me again!"

Baloo was shaking his fist at Kit dangerously. Kit backed away, knowing that Baloo would never actually hit him, but still….frightened just the same, because the look on Baloo's face was one he'd never seen before, it was one filled with anger and revenge. It terrified Kit to the point where he was shaking, and Baloo suddenly stopped in his tracks. He stopped because he could see the fear in Kit's eyes.

"Kit…" Baloo kneeled down on the ground, suddenly exhausted. "Are you…afraid of me….or somethin?"

"N-no…" Kit forced himself to laugh albeit uneasily.

"Kit…" The old bear suddenly looked ancient. "...you know I'd never hurt you," Baloo managed weakly, "...right…?"

"Yeah…" Kit nodded furtively, "of course, Poppa Bear…whatever you say…"

"You just scared the living bejesus out of me…" Baloo covered his weary eyes with one hand. Suddenly exhausted, he sat down against the building beside Kit, not sure what to say. "If–if anything ever happened to you I—" The words died in his throat.

"I'm OK, Poppa Bear," Kit said, and he moved to squeeze Baloo's arm, but suddenly he stopped, because the bear's face looked ashen in that moment, his eyes wide and unseeing, and Kit suddenly remembered that Baloo was anything but 'okay'. "Oh, Baloo…" Kit moved to hug the bear—but suddenly Baloo was on his feet, and he was pacing back and forth as though deep in thought; Kit watched in astonishment as he realized Baloo was talking under his breath, he could barely make out what the words were that he was saying, though when he could, to say they were alarming was the least of it…

"I gotta find 'im!" Baloo smacked his fist decisively into his palm, "I gotta find the sonofabitch, and—and I gotta do it, kid, I'm gonna do it right! I'm gonna have to shoot him, straight between the eyes, yeah, just like Daddy used to show me with the target practice, I'll have to do some practicin' but I'll make sure it gets him right between the eyes—"

"Er-Baloo?" Kit spoke up worriedly, not sure what to make of what he was hearing, not quite sure he believed any of it, but hearing it all just the same. "Are you—okay—?" The question he knew was a stupid one, he already knew the answer.

"It's the only way, kid," Baloo said gravely as he continued to pace, "I gotta get 'im justice—the justice he deserves! Ya know? I gotta get my pal his own revenge! It's the only way—because otherwise—it's just all in vain—my buddy's dea—" Baloo stopped suddenly in his tracks, and, to Kit's horror, just stood there, as though he had forgotten where he was; his entire body, from head to toe, began trembling uncontrollably, as though he'd just been slapped across the face by unseen forces.

"B-Baloo…?" Kit stood with alarm. "What's….wrong?" Again, he knew how stupid it was to ask such things. But suddenly it seemed as though Baloo had forgotten to talk, and Kit wondered if maybe he should call someone—a doctor, because he'd never seen Baloo or anyone act like this before in his life.

"Baloo…?" Kit reached out towards the big bear, but before his fingers made an impact, the bear sank at once to the ground, burying his face in his paws. "Baloo!" Kit rushed to his friend's side. "What is it?" he whispered, terrified of what the answer could be, wanting to know but afraid of finding out the truth.

At first, Baloo didn't seem to even notice him. But then he slowly uncovered his eyes and sat up straight, staring out at the sparkling ocean.

"...Baloo…" Kit swallowed hard. "Talk to me…" He dared himself to place his own paw on Baloo's shoulder. "...Please…?"

Somehow his touch magically broke the spell. Baloo spoke low, his voice sounding hollow and aching. "He's….he's gone…" he whispered, continuing to stare out blindly into the sea.

Kit's heart sank to the pit of his stomach. He tightened his hold on Baloo's arm and tried, "...Poppa Bear…?"

"He's gone, Kit." Baloo wasn't looking at him, but his eyes were filled with tears.

Kit looked away as the sea and sky began to blur together. "I-I know…"

"What am I gonna do?" the older bear moaned into the ground , "I saw it, I saw all of it, and they—they want me to go up before the judge and, and, and testify and—and I can't do it, I tell ya, I just can't do it–" A strangled cry left his throat, and Baloo slumped to the ground as though he'd been physically wounded, but no, this wasn't physical, this was the worst emotional pain he'd ever felt in his life, and he might as well have been mortally wounded, because he felt as though his heart was being torn out of his chest, and he should have been howling with pain like when he kicked the ladder earlier, but he couldn't make a sound, the tears ran down his throat.

Then the boy's arms were around him, and they were rocking him like he was a baby, reminding him when he was young and he'd hurt himself and his Daddy would rock him just like that, and then he really couldn't help himself, he was sobbing like a baby in Kit's open arms, but Lil Britches wasn't letting go, he was holding tighter like he would never let him go.

After a time, Kit loosened his hold, and Baloo found that he could finally breathe, but his stomach was still in a twisted knot. "I just can't believe it…" he kept saying over and over, "I just can't doggone believe it!"

"Poppa Bear…" Kit placed a gentle paw on the bear's shoulder, looking steadily into his eyes that were now tired and red-rimmed, no longer unseeing but having seen far too much. "What can we do…" he struggled to ask, "what can I do…to help you?" He knew it wasn't the time to show Baloo the Deed (the bear had already had enough of a shock, and Kit feared that might send him to an early grave).

"Just…" Baloo placed already heavy paws over even heavier eyes. "Just don't let me drown, willya?"

"Hey," said Kit, "C'mon, Poppa Bear! I could never let you down."

"Not 'down', kid, dammit," Baloo snapped, startling Kit into stunned silence, " drown, I said—drown! I'm drownin, Kit…" He moaned as he sunk lower and lower to the ground, "like a lone duck shot outta the sky! My, my heart's gone drifted out to sea, an' I don't know how to get it back." He fell once again back down to the ground in defeat.

"Oh, Baloo…" Kit sank down next to him.

"I let 'im down, Kit." Baloo covered his face with one giant paw. "I-I couldn't stop it—" He stopped.

"Oh, Poppa Bear…" Kit took his free paw in his own. It was warm. "It's not your fault."

"It is though, Kit!" Baloo practically growled, and Kit flinched; Baloo saw it and immediately softened. "Sorry, kid," he mumbled, "I'm…not really myself these days…"

"You know…" Kit stared out into the sea. "I know what it's like," he offered softly.

Baloo blinked, slowly as if he were a turtle as he turned to stare at Kit quizzically. "Whuddya mean?" he questioned, curiosity getting the better of him, "What what's like?"

"Losing someone," Kit said, his voice just barely above a whisper, "that you love."

Baloo gave him a long and silent stare, then blinked again as the realization hit him; then he nodded deftly. "...Oh. Right." He placed his paw on Kit's shoulder, "D'ya mean…your parents?"

"...Yeah," Kit said, "although…I didn't really get to know them all too well," he admitted haltingly, "because…I was really little when they—" He couldn't say the word 'died'; it was all too fresh for him as well, and he feared it might work Baloo up again. He was surprised when tears began to well up in his eyes instead; horrified, he turned away, only to have Baloo scoop him close and hold him to his chest; Kit felt the tears come easily then, and he cried into the big bear's stomach, resting against him as he could feel his heartbeat, reassuring him that yes, Baloo was here, he was alive….maybe not okay (no, for sure he was not really okay) but he was living, and that would have to be enough for now.