Chapter 6: Brothers in Arms
Author's note: Much thanks to Mark Knopfler (Dire Straits) for an incredible song...
Chapel, Hoover Building
Monday, October 25, 2018
4:00 pm
A slow day— paperwork, an interview here and there, the little routine stuff that was good when you didn't mind letting your thoughts wander. It wasn't welcome today, though, and his thoughts had finally driven him down to the chapel.
How can the sun shine in here all afternoon, and yet I can't get warm? he thought as he sat down on the marble bench in the center of the small room. The chill crept across his shoulders, as it did every time in the past ten years he'd come down here to stare at the plaques on the wall. He knew too many of the faces personally, but only one refused to stay behind when he walked out of this room and back into his life…
Ten years earlier…(October 2009)
These mist-covered mountains
Are a home now for me,
But my home is in the lowlands
And always will be…
The fog dipped and swirled like a prima ballerina, shrouding the trees in whiteness and shadow. Every movement of foliage and fog brought their senses alert, and after two full days of it they were exhausted.
Myles longed for the quiet warmth of the fireplace and his wife's arms at home. Sarah was just a year old, and taking her first steps; he wanted to be there to catch her. Instead, the lot of them were traipsing through the Smoky Mountains, tracking a gang of bank robbers who thought they were the next stars of Survivor.
Beside him, he knew Bobby was thinking along the same lines; the Aussie's first anniversary with Darcy was only a few weeks away, and they were expecting their first child as well. The team had changed a bit; no longer was it a group of people who had only each other to worry about. Now they all had families waiting at home for them, all except Rhodes, who had replaced Sue when the Gallaudet intern project had come up. Brian was good; with his hearing aids, he could pass the Bureau's requirements for Special Agent, and he'd also honed his lip-reading with Sue. It wasn't the same, but it was enough.
Now the "youngster," as they'd taken to calling him from day one, slipped along behind and off to Bobby's left; Myles flanked him on the right. Jack and Tara were about ten paces back, flanked left and right, watching their backs. Bobby studied the terrain ahead of them, watching for any signs of life that had been through earlier.
They'd been doing this for two solid days; camping in the Smoky Mountains might be a wonderful experience in August, but in late October it was chilly and damp. Add in the tension of not being able to see ten feet in front of you with a gang of armed suspects hiding somewhere in the fog, and it definitely didn't rate up there with your "top ten vacation spots."
"Bingo." Bobby's Aussie drawl broke the silence just enough to get their attention; four heads snapped around immediately.
"What have you got, Bobby?" Jack asked as he closed the gap between them and crouched next to the tall agent.
"Footprint," the Aussie replied, pointing to a leaf-strewn impression on the ground. "And the ground here has enough foliage dropping that it's got to be fresh. No leaves on top of the impression, just pressed into it."
"All right. Let's see if we can find a few more, preferably all headed in a particular direction." Jack went back to his position, and Bobby worked ahead a few paces.
Brian waved at Myles, then signed. BEHIND US S-W-A-T? He added a questioning look to his comment.
NOT UNTILWEHAVE ABSOLUTE VIEW, Myles replied.CAN'TFLYF-O-GMUCH TOO(ALSO)THICKANDMANYPEOPLEHERE DNOT WANT. ACCIDENT SOMEONECHANCESHOTMUCH GREAT.WEFIND THEM. S-W-A-TBACKUPTHEM COME, WE STAY. He was amazed and a bit proud that he'd managed that much without unnecessary fingerspelling; it was coming slowly, but his ASL was improving.
WHILE WE WAIT FOR THEM, OUR BUTT FREEZE. Brian grinned, pointing to his backside rather than introducing the sign for the cruder form of the word to the Harvard grad. Then he shrugged. WE SAVE WORLD, PRICE WE PAY.
Myles chuckled silently, then focused his attention again as Bobby had held up a hand to stop them all, and he turned noiselessly to sign MAN THERE 100 FEET. "There" was at the 11 o'clock position, just off to this left.
ONE ONLY? Jack's dark brows went up in question as he signed it.
Bobby cocked his head to listen intently; no one so much as breathed in that long moment. He shook his head, tapping his index and middle fingers twice on his thumb. NO. Then he shrugged. WHERE NOT KNOW.
20 FEET, Jack ordered, pointing in the same direction Bobby had. STAY THERE.
They nodded, and worked their way forward, grateful that the fog had at least dampened the leaves enough that they could move soundlessly. Myles couldn't help but think, as he did on occasion, that if people could just learn to get along and quit wanting everybody else's stuff, his life would be a lot easier…
Someday you'll return to
Your valleys and your farms
And you'll no longer burn to
Be brothers in arms…
Then again, his life would be considerably less interesting as well—
:
Through these fields of destruction,
Baptisms of fire;
I've witnessed your suffering
As the battle raged higher…
The roar of gunfire brought him out of his thoughts and flat on his stomach fast. Oh, dear God… He wasn't sure who voiced it first, or if anyone truly did; in that split-second he could hear their thoughts as clearly as his own.
Crossfire— a deadly-sounding word by itself, but in living color it was enough to stop your heart without getting hit. Bark splintered off the trees all around them, and sparks glinted off the few small rocks that offered no cover whatsoever.
A sound off to his left made him look, and he saw Brian clutch at his right ankle. The young man's face paled beneath his auburn hair, but he waved Myles off with his eyes.
ME O-K, he signed, instinctively ducking as another volley sounded. CATCH R-I-C-O-C-H-E-T. ONLY G-R-A-Z-E.
Myles nodded and refocused on trying to target where exactly the shots were coming from.
"It's a bloody ambush!" Bobby shouted. "They were waiting for us!"
Jack shushed him with a wave and motioned them all back to his position behind a fallen tree. "How many and where?" he gasped as he checked the clip in his 9mm. The rest of the team followed suit.
"At least six," the tall Aussie replied. "And they're spread out almost completely around us." He dropped a small rock in front of them and pointed around it. "Eleven, one o'clock, three and nine, four and eight. We've got a single clear alley here, because of these windfalls, but it won't take much for them to cut us off completely. They were waiting for us, Jack. Led us right up to this spot, so they could play 'shoot the fish in the barrel'."
"Yeah, well, we'll take time to feel stupid later." Jack turned to Tara, whom they'd requested for this assignment because of her communications skills, which had been honed even sharper when she'd become a supervisor for Information Technology shortly after she and Sam had married. "How far back is SWAT?"
She had her radio out, along with the GPS tracker she'd been carrying. "They're at the spot we camped last night. About three miles back." Her eyes were very wide as she looked up. "ETA minimum's an hour or more."
"Call them anyway, Tara. Get them moving toward us. It's something."
"They've got small arms, a shotgun or two, and I heard at least one semi-automatic," Myles added. He pulled the first-aid pack out of his pocket and tossed it to Brian.
"The infrared sights aren't going to help much," Bobby said. "They're fine for the fog, but as dense as this foliage is, we're not going to be able to keep track of all of them. We may as well wave a blasted flag and yell 'Here we are,' for all the good it'll do."
"Aussie," Brian quipped as he finished taping the gauze to his ankle, "you're so good for morale."
"Well, we can't stay here." Jack brought the conversation back around. "Any suggestions?"
:
Five minutes later, Myles was shaking his head vigorously. "It's suicide. And as many times as I've plotted your demise, this was never in the mix."
"He's right, Bobby," Jack added. "It's flat-out nuts."
"No, Jack," the Harvard grad replied solemnly. "I'm not saying that. It's a sound plan, just not for getting all of us out of here in one piece. If the odds weren't so damn slim, I'd be all for it."
"Will you two listen to yourselves?" Bobby Manning spread his hands in exasperation. "It's the only chance we have of taking these drongos down without becoming the 'Lost Unit.' Besides, when have you ever known me to take unnecessary risks?" At the looks he got from all sides, he raised a hand. "Never mind. Look, I can move faster by myself than if I have to worry about any of you. I'll draw their fire, and you all can get back around behind them. It's the only way out."
Tara was deathly quiet; the only reaction from her was ever-widening eyes. Brian kept looking from Bobby to Jack to Myles and around again.
Jack Hudson sighed heavily, hating again this aspect of being the unit leader; putting his friends' lives on the line for the good of the mission. He gazed for a long moment at the man who had been his best friend for well over a decade. "Crash, if you go and get yourself killed…"
"Will you relax?" Bobby retorted with a grin. "I know what I'm doing. Ten years of sneaking out past Randy has rendered me absolutely silent. You all just have to swear you will never tell Darcy about this."
"And send her into premature labor?" Tara quipped. "Not a chance."
"That's better." He checked his sidearm again, and then triple-checked it. "All right. I'll give you blokes—" he grinned at Tara— "and sheila two minutes to get into position. Then I'm going right up the middle of the creek."
Myles grimaced. "Just make sure you don't lose your paddle."
:
This is pure insanity…but then, when did Koala Boy ever take the sane path anywhere? Myles slipped through the undergrowth, praying for the fog to stay as heavy and wet as it was. Visibility was shot to Hades and back, but the damp made silent movement possible. And silent was imperative right now. His teammate's life could well depend upon it.
They didn't even dare use the radios; it was so silent in the woods that even a voice in the earpiece could give them away. So they were spread out, blind and deaf, waiting for one of their own to "stand up and wave a blasted flag." It gave Myles a sense of foreboding that felt a great deal like Brian's "Campfire Hash" wreaking havoc on his stomach.
Thirty feet to his left, he could barely make out Tara's form as she knelt down behind a maple tree, her firearm drawn and ready. It amazed him still, the tremendous progress she'd made in her field work; for a lady who'd remarked to Sue once that she avoided "all possibility of collision that doesn't involve airbags," she was a damn good agent to have at your back. Most perpetrators underestimated her entirely, and it had been many an unfortunate criminal's last look at freedom to stare into the dark eyes behind the 9mm.
Myles drew in a deep silent breath and waited, his gun trained squarely on the Daniel-Boone-wannabe fifteen feet in front of him. He'd been counting seconds in his head; one hundred ten, one hundred eleven, one twelve… The incessant waiting, when seconds dragged by in hours, was always the worst part. When it was a countdown to a disaster waiting to happen, it was ten times worse. But it was part of the job, and you learned to live with it.
One seventeen… one eighteen… one nineteen… He closed the distance to his target, praying all his teammates were doing the same. The man in front of him had already spotted Bobby, and was taking aim in his shotgun sight. A grimy finger twitched on the trigger, and Myles knew he'd have to be very careful or the man would fire anyway in surprise.
Two feet… ten inches… his .45 was trained on the man's neck now, and he was ready to grab the barrel of the gun and pull it upward, away from his teammate. Myles leaned forward just enough for cold steel to meet warm flesh. "That's quite enough," he murmured, swinging the gun out of sight on the Aussie. "Hands on your head, if you please. Very quietly." He cuffed the man and hauled him silently to his feet, seeing in his peripheral vision that Tara was doing the same to her target. Two down…
Bobby was halfway up the "alley" now, belly-crawling through the wet leaves. Tara left her capture with Myles, then circled around toward the next one.
Suddenly, a blood-curdling yell broke the silence as two of the criminals popped out from behind large trees not twenty feet from the tall Aussie. A deafening roar sounded, and over it a single anguished cry was heard:
"BOBBY!"
:
And though they did hurt me so bad
In the fear and alarm
You did not desert me
My brothers in arms
Myles took aim and dropped one of the shooters immediately; unfortunately, Brian's shot at the second one missed, and the man fired again. Jack tore out of the cover and shot him on the run, dropping at his friend's side before the report of his gun faded.
"Crash!"
Tara started to follow Jack, but Myles stopped her. "Secure the area first." The words about killed him, but he knew his unit leader was in no shape to stay focused. That left the job to him.
He saw her eyes fill with tears, even at a distance, but she nodded and joined Brian in rounding up their captives. Then, as SWAT appeared from the foliage, they left the security to the new people and gathered around their fallen comrade.
Bobby was conscious, but there was no hiding the blood pouring from four wounds: his right leg, left shoulder, and two gaping holes in his abdomen where the bullets had angled past the Kevlar.
"Anyone says… I told you so," he quipped painfully, "And I'll pop 'em one."
Jack started to answer, but it caught in his throat. He was applying pressure to the leg wound, his eyes down, but Myles could see him shaking. They all knew time was of the essence.
Tara was already on the radio. "Base, this is SAM 3-1; we have an operator down. Repeat, we have an operator down, and need immediate med-flight." Her voice broke; although she hadn't worked with them for nearly a year, they'd stayed close, because of her "in-law status" to Myles. He knew she'd always looked to Bobby as a bit of a "big brother," and the Aussie took it to heart, teasing her mercilessly and making sure she knew her back was always watched whether she wanted it or not.
There was silence on the radio for a long moment. Tara tapped the receiver sharply. "Base, do you read?"
It was Dimitrius' voice that came back to them, slowly. Apparently he'd come up to see how they were doing. "SAM 3-1, negative on med-flight because of the dense fog." They could hear the pain in his voice as well. "Tara… who?"
She couldn't stop the break in her voice. "D… it's Bobby. Isn't there…?"
A pause. "Only if you can get him back to the clearing where you camped last night. The electronic flares you juried up for this trip might work – the chopper would have to land on instruments." The heavy tone of his voice told them D knew exactly how likely it was – they wouldn't have requested the med-flight unless it was absolutely necessary.
"That's three miles!" Brian whispered. "There's no way…"
"Tara…" Bobby's voice made them all turn. "Give me that contraption…" She handed it to him, and he brought it to his lips. "Hey, D."
"What'd you go and do this time, Manning?" The older man's voice obviously was straining. "Try to save the world single-handed again?"
"Nah, just these drongos. Hey, don't risk the chopper, ok?" Heads turned, and Jack drew in a sharp breath. "Just tell these guys to get their tails back someplace warm."
"Not on your life, Crash."
"No way."
"Since when do you get to hog all the scenery?"
The comments came from Jack, Tara, and Brian simultaneously. Myles looked at his friend and shrugged. "You seem to be outvoted, Koala Boy. We're staying right here with you, chopper or no chopper." He leaned toward the radio. "Did you catch all that, D?"
"Roger that." A bit of pride in them sneaked through his voice. "Take care of him, will you? I'll get that chopper in the air as soon as I can. If you can't move him, send SWAT back to the clearing and have them set up the electronic flares. We'll come to you, if we can."
:
There's so many different worlds
So many different suns
And we have just one world
But we live in different ones…
"Funny…"
Myles looked up to see Bobby staring at the trees above them. "What's funny?" he asked.
They were alone at the moment; Brian had volunteered to hike back with SWAT, who were taking the perps back to the base camp, and retrieve their supplies; Jack and Tara were hunting for dry wood to get a fire going.
"Just perspective, I guess." The Aussie groaned as he shifted to get comfortable. They'd managed to stop the bleeding in his leg and shoulder mostly, thanks to the Velcro straps on several Kevlar vests. But there was nothing they could do for the abdominal wounds, except keep him still and pray for the fog to lift.
"I mean, here it is, the middle of October; most folks are celebrating the Braves' victory over the Yanks, and fighting with their kids over Halloween costumes. And here we sit, in the middle of a fog bank in the Smokies…"
Knowing a friend is about to die. He didn't voice it, but Myles knew; even if by some miracle the fog lifted this very second, Bobby's chances of surviving even to the hospital doors were slim at best. "Does make one wonder if it's worth it sometimes, doesn't it?"
"Aww, come on, Myles." Faint it might be, but the Aussie's voice held a touch of the old banter. "Can't think of a more worthwhile cause than saving the free world – even if it means going out in a blaze of glory." Then he grinned. "Not exactly how I'd planned it. Better to go home in a blaze of bragging rights."
The Harvard grad couldn't help but return the grin. "Always have to have the last shot, don't you?"
"Too right." Then the blue eyes went solemn. "Hey, Myles… do me a favor?"
A blond brow went up in surprise, but he had only one answer. "Anything, Crash."
Bobby smiled at the nickname; it was the first time Myles had ever used it. "Take care of Darce for me? I mean, not just you… the team… all you guys. She's gonna have a hard time. I mean…" He sighed. "I hate to miss seeing the little bloke or sheila, y'know? All that time it too the Maker to knock me over the head, drag me to that altar, and now I gotta pass 'em on the way by. Doesn't seem fair…"
"What happened to that blaze of glory? Sounds to me like it's getting doused in regrets." Tara moved to join them, taking Bobby's hand. "Don't you worry; we'll take care of Darcy. And hey, who knows? You might get to pass out a little fatherly advice on the 'way by.'" Her voice broke at that, and she started to pull away. "I'm sorry—"
"S'ok, kiddo," he replied, brushing a tear from her cheek. "Good advice, that." He looked from Myles to Tara, then to Jack, who was clearing a space for a fire, and Brian, who had made remarkably good time and was just coming back through the trees. "Quite the bunch, us. Mr. Blueblood, here, Prince Jack, Cyber-Goddess and the Youngster… and one Aussie rebel."
Brian's voice lifted softly at that, a clear tenor that belied the grey sky and the dense landscape. "There's so many different worlds/ So many different suns/ And we have just one world/ But we live in different ones…"
"Incredibly appropriate," Myles said softly. "What's the song?"
"Tune older than me," the young man quipped, "but worth the search. Group from back in the early 80s – Dire Straits. Song's called 'Brothers in Arms.' It started running through my head as I was walking back. I was amazed at how well it went with our— I mean, everything that's— I mean…" He trailed off.
Bobby nodded, and looked over at Jack. "It was our theme song during Quantico; the other blokes thought we were bonkers, using such a depressing-sounding song. But it… it's what we do, and it's where we come from. I haven't heard it in years." Jack looked up at that, startled, and something unspoken passed between the men. Bobby turned back to Brian. "Let's hear it."
"I—" The young man glanced around. Then his eyes landed on Myles, pleading a bit. ME CAN'T, he signed tightly against his chest.
YOU CAN YES, Myles replied. IMPORTANT.
"Are you two talking about me?" Bobby quipped. "You know I never got the hang of reading that."
Brian couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, Aussie, and watching you sign is more painful than trying to interpret your slang." He took a breath. "You want a song, you got it."
The fire was glowing now, adding a warmth to the otherwise bleak scenery. Brian's voice lifted again, and the words wrapped around them all:
"These mist-covered mountains are a home now for me,
But my home is in the lowlands, and always will be.
Someday you'll return to your valleys and your farms,
And you'll no longer burn to be brothers in arms.
Through these fields of destruction, baptisms of fire;
I've witnessed your suffering as the battle raged higher.
And though they did hurt me so bad, in the fear and alarm
You did not desert me, my brothers in arms.
There's so many different worlds, so many different suns.
And we have just one world, but we live in different ones…"
He stopped, his eyes bleak. "I… I don't remember the rest of it. I'm sorry."
"Just as well," Bobby responded quietly. "We haven't played out that part just yet."
:
Now the sun's gone to hell,
And the moon's riding high;
Let me bid you farewell
Every man has to die…
The sun's gone to hell… The song had come back to him as well. Funny, he'd never thought of that phrase as describing a sunset, but that was exactly what was happening around them. The fog was lifting slightly, enough that the glow of the descending sun had bathed everything in a wash of red… fitting, at the moment…
Myles watched silently as Jack Hudson gripped his best friend's left hand and called his name. "Bobby… Bobby!"
The Aussie's eyes opened faintly. "No need to yell… Sparky," he murmured. "I haven't gone… anywhere… just yet."
"I just got off the radio with D. The chopper landed at the clearing, and the medics are on their way. You put that stubborn streak of yours in high gear and hold on." He couldn't hide the tremor in his voice.
"Hey, Jack, look…" Bobby pointed upward into the fading light. "Full moon riding high.. Woah…"
The fog lifted suddenly, as if swept away by an unseen hand, and a jeweled tapestry of stars spread out above them. Myles felt Tara touch his arm, and he looked down into dark eyes filled with tears. Then they both turned to their friend, who was staring into the heavens, a low whistle escaping his lips.
"That's some sendoff… for little ol' me." He quirked a smile at his teammates. "Guess someone figured I might get lost on the way home."
"Dammit, Crash…" Jack wasn't even trying to hide his own wet face; he clasped Bobby by the forearm, and held on tight. "You're gonna drive St. Peter to drink."
Bobby chuckled softly. "Always an adventure, Sparky; you know that." Then he turned to Brian. "Bloody brilliant agent you are, mate, for an ankle-biter. Keep an eye on the old-timers, eh?"
Brian could only nod. GOOD TEACHER YOU, he signed slowly. THANK YOU.
WELCOME, the Aussie signed in return. His color was draining, and he seemed to be fighting for breath slightly. "Tara, love," he said, reaching for her hand, "you behave yourself. I don't want to have to come rescue Sam…"
She smiled, squeezing his hand. "I will if you will."
"Always spoiling my fun," he teased, and turned to the man he'd shared desk space with for nearly eleven years. "Myles…"
"Not necessary," the blond agent replied. "One who fought at my side during the overthrow of Randy the Ridiculous has nothing to add. It's all been said."
The Aussie nodded. "Maybe so, but I'm gonna say it anyway. For all our differences, you're as square a mate as I've ever had." He held out his hand, which Myles clasped forearm-to-forearm, as knights of old. "Keep the flame bright, eh?"
"Bright as those stars calling you, my friend." It was the most open he'd ever been with his colleague, and it felt right. "You have my word."
Bobby released Myles' arm, and brought his hand to Jack's shoulder, coughing slightly before squeezing it. "Sparky, you've been a brother, and a mate, and a swift kick in the rear when I needed it. Can't ask for much more than that in a lifetime."
Jack's mouth opened, but no words came. A single, simple sign was all he could manage: both "x" hands, the index fingers linked right-over-left, then reversed left-over-right. FRIEND. Then he drew his hand into a fist and placed it over his heart; not even a sign, just a gesture that spoke his soul.
"Tell D…" Bobby's breath was coming shallower now. "…couldn't let the team down…" Blue eyes drifted through his teammates. "Give Sue and Liz hugs from me… tell Sam… I was practicing to finally… make a respectable showing at Mario-Kart…"
They watched, helpless, as one of their own took flight. "Tell Darce… love her... always…" His breathing hitched once, then faded like the evening breeze.
When the medics arrived five minutes later, they found four agents, heads bowed, keeping vigil over the fifth, whose sacrifice would live on forever in their hearts, and stir their resolve to fight their battle until mankind no longer waged war on itself…
But it's written in the starlight,
And every line on your palm:
We're fools to make war
On our brothers in arms…
"Wondered if this was where you'd disappeared to." Jack Hudson laid a hand on Myles' shoulder.
"I can't get the song out of my head." The Harvard grad's voice was quiet.
"The one Brian sang up there?"
"No. Though that one came back as well." He stood and walked over to the plaque on the wall, where Bobby Manning's signature grin flashed back at him. "The one I sang at his funeral. I can't shake it."
Jack looked thoughtful. "Maybe he needs to hear it again. Heaven knows, it fit him." He turned to head for the door, then stopped. "Or maybe he thinks you need to hear it again. I remember what he said to you in those last moments. Teaching won't change the promise you made. You can still keep the flame bright, even if you're not the one holding the torch."
Myles stared after his unit leader as the shorter agent closed the chapel door. Then he turned and faced his former teammate, and the baritone voice sang softly for both of them:
I vow to thee, my country, all earthly things above,
Entire, and whole, and perfect, the service of my love.
The love that asks no questions, the love that stands the test,
That lays upon the altar the dearest and the best.
The love that never falters, the love that pays the price
The love that makes, undaunted, the final sacrifice.
Later that evening, in the solitude of the study, he took pen to paper, and made his peace: I remember the funeral having a foreboding and eerie silence, and stillness about it— the man in the coffin the one who usually filled such quiet moments. No one could say in words how much Bobby's death had changed them, but we all knew that it was somehow the end of something. It was the last time we were all together, and would remain that way for the rest of forever...
Jack was right; I did need to hear the song again today. Bobby would tear me up one side and down the other if he knew I was stressing over this.
He sat back and let his gaze drift over the photographs that lined his desk; he wasn't fond of clutter, so the few frames he'd chosen had special significance. One had been half-covered for several years by a small replica of the coveted "Myrtle's Girdle" trophy; now Myles picked up the trophy, stood and deliberately placed it on one of his bookshelves. Then he returned to the leather chair and gazed at the photograph.
D's promotion to supervisor — they'd toasted him properly with a grand sendoff, and Donna had taken a team photo. It was the last time they were really all together, as a unit. Until Bobby's death, the photo had been a reminder of good times; after, it only served as a reminder of what was missing.
But now it was something new again; a reminder of the family they'd forged, as real and endearing as Myles' own blood family. Through Arif Dessa and Howie Fines, kidnappings and coffee makers, bank robberies and bachelor auctions, they were a part of each other, through time and distance and… sorrow.
Myles looked straight at Bobby in the photo, and let the words run through his mind to whomever might be listening. Forgive me, 'mate.' I thought I'd said all I needed to that night in the woods. But I didn't, and it's haunted me for ten years without my even realizing it. You kept me humble, you kept me on my toes, and you kept me honest with myself and everyone else. Thank you.
For a moment, he could have sworn he heard the Aussie's voice: Too right, mate. Then he closed his journal, turned off the lights, and walked upstairs to his family, his soul truly at peace for the first time in a decade. Tomorrow he would begin the final transition and preparation for passing on the torch – Keep the flame of justice burning bright as the stars that call us home. You still have my word.