Disclaimer…I don't own anything. The information I got about skiing was from the kidski website. (It's that plus The instructions are taken word for word, because I didn't want to screw that up, but you can probably tell which notes I added in. It's not the factual parts.

Author's Note…Reviewers are the prettiest and most handsome people…please be one of them…I only got two reviews last chapter! And, once again, loads and loads of thanks to my beta, randomname.

"What a contrast between us! You live a warm and glowing life, surrounded by loved ones whom you care for and who care for you; you are anchored in contentment. I drift about without rudder or compass, a wreck on the sea of life; I have no memories to cheer me, no pleasant illusions of the future to comfort me, or about me to satisfy my vanity. I have no family to furnish the only kind of survival that concerns us, no friends for the wholesome development of my affections, or enemies for my malice."

-Alfred Nobel, creator of the Nobel Prize

It was a mandatory part of Wilson's childhood that he learn how to fall.

He was halfway into his sixth winter on this Earth when his dad taught him to ski. The very first thing he learned, because it was the most important, was that if you can't avoid the topple; if it is inevitable; relax and do not fight it. If it is imminent; do not deny the power and go with it; flow with it; fall with it.

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With the caution of a tightrope walker, Wilson slowly made his way down the narrow hallway, empty-handed.

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Lower your hips and bend at the knees. You must be humble in order to save yourself.

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221. 222. 223. Wilson paused at a door, taking the time to drink in every detail. The wooden frame was splintered and the handle was scratched. He knocked loudly on the door and two voices announced their approval at his entry. Slowly, he enveloped the handle in his hand. It was surprisingly warm. 224.

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Begin to fall by sitting back into the slope, twisting your hips to an uphill side. This is the start of the pain that comes with demise and later; deliverance.

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The scent of melted chocolate and waffles sifted through the air into Wilson's nose, even though it was 6:30 at night. He didn't take off his jacket and he didn't move onward. Instead, he found himself entranced by the picture on an oddly-colored end table. It was of Cameron and Bryan. Despite everything that had happened, everything that he now knew, he had never pictured them together. But there they were and Wilson couldn't help noticing that they looked good together. Happy.

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Keep your arms up and forward, out of the snow, to protect your wrists. There are some things you must salvage in order to progress.

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A little girl ran out from the kitchen and greeted Wilson, not knowing who he was. He couldn't help noticing that she looked exactly like Bryan. Wilson found himself rendered incapable of doing anything but gape. He didn't hear her remarks, even though she was definitely talking, and didn't notice himself being gently led to the kitchen, even though that was exactly where he was being led. An inferno.

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Keep your skis below you, perpendicular to the direction in which you are traveling. Your body will act as the break as you touch the snow. Try to end up with your skis across the fall line or vertical. You will need the space to get back up again.

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Wilson watched in silence as Cameron sprinkled a few chocolate chips over some waffles before she turned to him. She gasped slightly. "Wilson, you're…here."

Wilson stepped forward. "I know."

Cameron drew herself up a little bit. "Johanna, you wanna go draw a picture for me while I finish cooking? The fridge is looking kind of empty."

"But I was having fun," Johanna argued. Wilson observed in some twisted sort of awe as Cameron shot her a single look that made this girl, this niece of his, shrug and leave the room.

Wilson looked back towards Cameron. "That's his daughter." It wasn't so much a question, but a statement. A fact that had already been so far set in stone, there was no way of undoing it.

"She's my daughter too. Johanna."

"Johanna," Wilson repeated. "Johanna."

Cameron gave a terse nod and folded her arms across her chest. "What are you doing here," she asked almost irately.

"I came to…" Wilson searched for the correct term to use. Help you? Help her? Help myself?

"Apologize, maybe," Cameron supplied. "For being a complete and total-"

"That too."

"Too? 'Too' implies apologizing for something already."

Wilson wiped his brow, not exactly remembering when he had gotten so hot. "The first thing would be to…"

Cameron shook her head sadly. "Wilson, I want this to work between the three of us. I really, truly, do. But it just can't until you've gotten your cards straight. It's not just me and you that would get hurt here. Johanna too. And she's the most important thing right now. I'm sorry but I just can't help you with this."

It was as though a wall made of fire and ice and wind had been constructed between the two. Every element was working against them. The two stood there, staring at this invisible barrier, trying to make eye contact, but failing miserably.

Cameron shifted her feet. "You should go."

Wilson nodded and left quickly, brushing past Johanna on his way out. She ran into the kitchen.

"Who was that?"

Cameron looked down at her daughter, his daughter, their daughter. "That, sweetie, was a man I hope we have not seen the last of."

"I hope so too," Johanna remarked, even though she wasn't exactly sure what she was talking about.

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After driving many miles with no clear destination, Wilson ended up at the graveyard. It's a nasty place to find yourself, he contemplated. Awful to figure out who you are next to your brother's frickin' tomb.

Suddenly, Wilson was struck with a memory that he had had when he was ten years old. The family was skiing and Bryan kept falling down. It wasn't his fault; it was the skis. They were on the wrong feet. The whole family had been telling him this, but to no avail. Only six, Bryan was too stubborn to switch them. After watching him plummet into the icy snow for the hundredth time, Wilson had had enough and yanked the skis off him, with Bryan screaming the entire time. After ten minutes of sitting in the freezing snow, Wilson had finally succeeded.

Only to find that the feet weren't the problem. It was that the two were wearing each other's skis, and Bryan's were too big for him.

Wilson had been too preoccupied with Bryan's problem to notice his own.

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Figure out a position to get up from, and start over again.