"Oh BALOO!" Aunt Louise had blown her nose on Baloo's shirt perhaps a dozen times as they stood on the dock. "LOUIS, my poor little LOUIS—"

"LOUIE!" Baloo snapped for perhaps the dozenth time—but this time, he was immediately silenced by a harsh look from Rebecca.

"Oh," sighed Aunt Louise, "right! Poor thing; he was always complainin' I didn't remember his name correctly! Guess he was right. Oh, how I loved that boy…"

And unable to continue, the poor woman covered her face and sobbed into her hands with abandon, to where Baloo felt compelled to give her a few tentative pats on the shoulder and say, "there…there" (because he wasn't sure what else to do—what could he do, what was there to say?) Louie's was closed, that alone said it all.

Even if it was temporarily, Baloo couldn't fathom Louie's Place closing for even just a moment—but while the place itself looked the same, there was an unsettling silence that had come over the Island, as though the Island itself were in mourning, realizing at once what it had lost, though perhaps not soon enough, but rather only too late.

"You two were pretty close," Rebecca remarked sympathetically as she took Aunt Louise by the arm and helped her inside, "weren't you?"

"Yes siree dear—closer than anythin'! Like he was one of my own. Nothing is thicker than blood," Aunt Louise nodded solemnly. "I say that—" She halted mid-tracks, and nearly fell over when she saw the state of the building inside—it had been completely ransacked from top to bottom. "OH!" she gasped, "oh, oh, oh! Not my Jukebox," she blubbered as she noticed the empty corner, "they—they took my Jukebox! OH!" And before anyone could think of a response she'd feinted straight on the floor.

"Aunt Louise!" Kit exclaimed as he and Rebecca ran towards her, and Rebecca glowered over her shoulder hissing, "BALOO!"

Baloo just stood there in a state of shock as they tried desperately to fan Aunt Louise back to life. "What the hell happened to this place," he muttered under his breath. "WHO would do a thing like this?" Nobody answered him because nobody knew what to say.

Kit eventually got to his feet just as Aunt Louise was coming to; he came over to Baloo and tried to take his hand, but Baloo hardly noticed he was there. "...Baloo…?"

"This is the work of a no-good dirty cold-hearted criminal," the big bear muttered to the far-off wall which was cloaked in darkness, his voice almost so low Kit could barely hear him, "Not even old Karnage would be evil enough to do something like—" He stopped short, staring at a certain spot on the floor.

"...Baloo?" Kit, though horrified, couldn't look away as Baloo walked, gait so much slower than usual, tentatively over to the spot, which was still stained a sickening crimson. He watched as Baloo knelt down and placed his fingers on the now cold hard ground. Kit watched as Baloo placed his other paw against the floorboards and just hovered there, as though it were taking all of his resolve not to curl up on the floor in a fetal position. "Oh…" Kit murmured, "Baloo…"

He didn't realize Baloo was speaking, or he wouldn't have taken that hesitant step forward.

"I'll find who did this." Baloo told the empty spot with gritted teeth as he dragged his fingers over the darkened wood,as though he wanted to tear it to splinters; only to clench them steadily into a determined fist that was more than ready for action. "I'll find who did this to you Louie," Baloo muttered to the floor, "if it's the last thing I ever do!" Before anyone could say a thing Baloo had turned on his heels and was storming out the door.

"BaLOO—!" Kit started to run after him, only to be stopped in his tracks by Rebecca, who shook her head at him decisively.

"Let him go, Kit," Rebecca instructed, watching sadly as Baloo burst through the doors, leaving them swinging in his wake.

"But Miz Cunningham—!" Kit was horrified at the anger he'd just seen flashing in the bear's eyes.

"It's gonna be OK Kit," Rebecca drew her arms around Kit's neck in a gentle squeeze. "He's…just gonna need some time."


Baloo meanwhile was cutting through the jungle landscape of Louie's Island like a knife. He didn't have a destination in mind, but that didn't matter. He hardly knew where he was going but he didn't even really care; just as long as he was away from there. He didn't notice the rather obvious booby trap in his wake, just waiting for him—until it was too late—and the ground gave way beneath him, and down he tumbled head over heels into the bottom of a hole.

"Great," Baloo mumbled hotly under his breath, "just…just great."

He was rubbing his already bruised head and just managing to get back on his feet when a voice suddenly startled him, "Hey down there! Need a hand?" Baloo glanced up with shock. It was coming from above—but how? As far as he'd known, nobody had followed him.

"Yeah!" Baloo called up, "Got a—rope or—or somethin'?"

"Sure thing boss!" the other called back down, much to his surprise. It was a response that actually made Baloo smile (rarely did anyone ever see him as the boss). "Think you can climb?" the stranger asked.

"Yeah," Baloo mumbled, "I…think so…Hey!" he started, "what's your name? I didn't know anyone was even out here—"

"The name's Gordon Lovette," the other shouted down, "and what's your name, Soldier?"

Soldier? wondered Baloo with surprise. He didn't think he looked like a soldier. He certainly felt like one though. "B-Baloo," he managed, somewhat weakly; his head was killing him, and his throat was dry.

"Baloo?" the other chuckled. "Baloo what?"

"Oh," Baloo shrugged, "Just ol' Baloo…"

"Good enough!" Suddenly the rope was dangling right in front of him, ready for the taking.

"Hey!" Baloo brightened. "Thanks!" He grabbed the rope, which was amazingly taut enough for his large frame. Thankfully the hole wasn't too deep either, and it didn't take him long to get to the top where he was, finally back on steady ground. "Hey!" Baloo's eyes lit up at the sight of his rescuer. "You're a Pilot—aren'tcha!?"

"Yessiree bob!" laughed Gordon Lovette, the fox who was probably in his twenties or thirties that had just, quite possibly, also saved his life. "And you are too, I reckon?"

"You're…wearin' a Bomber jacket!" Baloo's eyes were mystified. "But—it's like new! Where'd you get that thing?"

"Around," Gordon chuckled. "I've had it for quite awhile actually. So….what're you doin' on this Godforsaken island anyhow?"

" 'Godforsaken'?" Baloo blinked for a moment then burst out laughing. "This place isn't just any old Island my man! It's the home of Louie's—" Baloo stopped at once when he realized what he was saying. His shoulders sank, and his heart sank further. "Louie," he murmured, "one of the best guys you could ever know…he…used to run this Island…." Baloo stumbled over to a log and sat down, staring off blankly into nothing, until the man who called himself Gordon Lovette came and joined him.

"I take it…this Louie's not still around now…is he?" Gordon asked gently, and Baloo found himself staring into the eyes of someone who he didn't even know who seemed to have more compassion than most people he'd ever met—and something about the words struck Baloo right in the chest, and his surroundings began to blur together.

"N-No…" Baloo choked out. "He….he…" Baloo's voice trembled.

"He died," the stranger nodded sadly, placing a paw on Baloo's shoulder as though they were old friends. "It's okay, Baloo…I…I understand—"

"NO you don't!" Baloo's voice rose to a shout in spite of himself. "You didn't know Louie! He was my buddy, my pal, but he was the kind of guy that could start a party that could last all year long if he wanted to! He was the life of this place and—" Baloo choked on his words. "He—he was the life of my life too! He—he wasn't blood-related or nothin', but…but it didn't really matter, cuz our bond, you see, it was thicker than blood! He was the brother I never—never–" He couldn't stifle the sob that escaped his throat, and suddenly he was bawling, sobbing openly into his paws, unable to help himself as he sank down to the ground and buried his head in his hands.

"Oh, dear," Gordon murmured softly as he watched the older bear crumpling to bits right in front of him. "Oh my…I'm so sorry old boy. You should know that…having gone through the war, I-I'm no stranger to this kind of loss…"

"War?" Baloo stared bleary-eyed up at the fox who had to have been younger than him by at least a decade. "But—but you've gotta be at least twenty-somethin, thirty-somethin—what war could you possibly—"

"Oh nevermind all that," Gordon sighed as he helped Baloo unsteadily to his feet. "More importantly, we've got to get you back! You're quite dehydrated, old man—"

"Hey," Baloo chuckled, scowling deftly, "I ain't dehydrated! And I ain't that old! I can take care of myself, see—"

"And is that why you were stuck down there in that hole?" Gordon appeared to be amused, but Baloo wasn't—no, not in the least! He was downright exhausted and he hated being laughed at.

"Hey mister!" Baloo snapped, "I'm warnin' ya—"

"Oh, easy now old boy. I was only teasin' you a little! Me and my squadron…." Gordon gave a wistful sigh. "...we'd tease each other all the time!"

"Squadron?" Baloo blinked; his eyes narrowed confusedly. "Where you from, anyway?"

"Hmm." The soldier shook his head, swaying a bit as though he were dizzy; Baloo caught him just in time. "Would answer you but…I'm kind of fuzzy on that myself at the moment…"

"Hey," frowned Baloo, suddenly deeply concerned, "you okay?"

"Just fine old chap!" Gordon grinned at him in spite of his exhaustion. Baloo had to do a double take; the guy was looking slightly older than he had before when they just met... or was it because of the shadows, and the sun had gone behind a cloud? "Just…let's help each other get on back, will ya, friend?"

"Sure," Baloo nodded and propped the younger man up. "Gotta say though, buddy…ya don't look so good…"

"No, don't worry about me," the other, standing further upright on his own. "Your friends…they'll surely be looking for ya."

Baloo had fallen silent. He was exhausted and confused, but determined to get home, and to get this stranger's help—he might not admit it, but he clearly needed it. They made it back to the clearing on the outskirts of Louie's Place. "Hey," laughed Baloo, "just wait until you see my plane! It's gonna—-" He was about to say 'knock your socks off', but the words died in his throat, as he turned to face his guest, only to find himself alone—completely alone—the other was nowhere to be seen! "HEY!" Baloo began to panic. "G-Gordon!? Mr. Lovette! Gordon, buddy—where the heck ARE ya—!" He stopped when he realized—Gordon simply was not there….perhaps he had hallucinated him, and…but there was no way—Gordon had to be real—because if he wasn't, how had he gotten out of that hole?

Baloo was suddenly having deja vu, remembering how he'd gotten a bump on his head once and been unable to fly…and a mysterious man named Mr. McGee had appeared out of nowhere and saved him. And Mr. McGee wasn't even supposed to exist—because he had died, a long time ago. Maybe I'm just seeing things, he thought, as he strode slowly back towards the entrance of Louie's. Been going through a lot lately….

It was strange, the man had connected with him so easily, seemed to have read his mind, almost—dare he think it—possibly knew the depths of his soul….and they'd only just met. It was uncanny; Baloo didn't know what to make of it all. He went straight inside and sat at the bar, staring blankly into space; the others were curiously absent, and he wondered where they'd gone, but he was also grateful for the quiet, even if it was too quiet for Louie's.

Suddenly laughter filled the room. It made Baloo's blood curdle. What were they thinking, laughing like that!? This was a crime scene—the place his dear friend had—

"Baloo!" Kit ran up to him and threw his arms around the older bear with relief. "We were wondering what happened to you—"

"Ah, you were wondering' huh?" Baloo snapped, and Kit shrank back with a sudden alarm, startled. "Well, don't you worry about me! I'M fine! But Louie? NOPE! HE'S rolling around in his grave! Because you're LAUGHING in the VERY SPOT he was TORN AWAY FROM ME!"

"Baloo!" Kit gasped, horrified, "I didn't mean to—"

"No, you never do, do ya, Kit?" Baloo glowered at him. "You and Beckers, you're all just La-di-Da! Well, I've got news for you—"

"BALOO!" Rebecca cut him off sharply, "what's WITH you!?"

"What's WITH me!?" Baloo bellowed back at the top of his lungs, so loud that she fell silent and you could hear a pin drop. "My BEST and OLDEST FRIEND in the WORLD—" he stopped. "You don't just FORGET about things like that!" Baloo snarled. "Now…I'm gonna be taking over his place but….there's not gonna be any parties here for…for awhile." He glowered at them all pointedly—including Aunt Louise who was just as stunned as the rest of them. None of them had ever seen Baloo explode like that.

"Baloo…" Kit's voice broke as he spoke up timidly, "I…I thought we were best friends…" The kid looked completely defeated, and Baloo's heart sank. He knew he'd gone a bit too far, but he couldn't help himself.

"We are Kit," Baloo strode right to the kid and placed a paw on his shoulder affectionately. "We're family and—and if anything ever happened to ya," Baloo went on, "it'd tear me apart. But….Louie….Louie's my brother," Baloo sniffed, "and I can't rest until he's at rest. Because—" Baloo shivered, "-I didn't even see the guy's face, Rebecca," he moaned, "he was—he was wearing a friggin mask, and—and he said not a word…" Baloo was shaking then, and had to sit down, but not without Kit and Rebecca coming to his side.

"Hey Babaloo," came Aunt Louie's voice, startling him out of his reverie, "I know how much Louis meant to ya…and I'm sorry Larry couldn't be here but…it doesn't matter," Aunt Louise said, wiping her eyes, "it's clear how much he meant to you and—" Her timing couldn't have been better, as Mr. Sansby appeared with the paperwork.

"Mr. Von Bruinwald?" inquired Mr. Sansby. "And Louise L'Amour?"

"Speaking," she said, and Baloo stood numbly to his feet.

"I've just overheard your little squabble—"

"Oh Mr. Sansby, Sir," Rebecca apologized on Baloo's behalf, "I'm sorry but he's—he's not himself he–"

Mr. Sansby just grinned at them both from the doorway holding up a briefcase. "We've got some papers to sign."