After finishing the final chapters of Terminal Diagnosis, I started wondering how Kid would respond to Heyes' death. I found I was a bit surprised by how Kid dealt with the death of his partner.

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Kid Curry lay supine in a hotel bed, in a no name town, with both hands clasped behind his head while he stared at the ceiling on yet another sleepless night. This had been Kid's plight for nearly three weeks, shortly before which he and Hannibal Heyes had split up in order to lose a posse. The plan was to meet in the town of Salt River.

But Heyes had never shown up and Kid had spent the last three weeks looking for him to no avail. In the late afternoon of the sixteenth day of his search, Kid rode in to Stillwater, secured a room, and boarded his horse. Then, feeling the pangs of hunger, Kid sought out the cafe where he ordered a steak and a baked potato.

While waiting for his meal to arrive, Kid picked up the weekly newspaper that someone had left carelessly on the empty table next to him. Turning to page two, Kid's jaw dropped and he sucking in a gasp of air.

Hannibal Heyes buried in Coldwater's Boot Hill.

Kid stared at the headline then quickly raised his eyes to see the date of the newspaper. Yesterday's date. Kid folded the paper and stuffed it under his arm and made a hasty exit even before his food arrived. He headed directly to the telegraph office.

Lom. Stop. Is it true? Stop. Thaddeus.

Kid slumped into the seat of the bench and waited for a reply. Twenty minutes later, the reply came.

True. Stop. Don't go there. Stop. Come to Porterville. Stop. Now.

Kid stared in shock at the telegram. His mind racing blindly. His knees weak. His hands shaking. His heart pounding wildly against his chest.

"Mr. Jones, there's another wire coming in for you," the telegraph operator said as he jotted down the words spewing out in Mores code. He tore the sheet of paper from the binder and handed it to Kid.

Clitterhouse. Stop. Guarding. Stop. Waiting for you.

Kid sucked in another gasp of air and his open palm rested across his mouth.

"You alright Mr. Jones?"...Mr. Jones."

The sound of his alias brought Kid's eyes to the telegraph operator, then back down to the telegram. He stood and walked methodically out of the building.

Kid leaned against the wall of the building, the two telegrams still clutched in one gloved hand that dropped limply at his side. All around him people were casually going about their business. People passed him him on the boardwalk, horses and wagons bustled down the street, children laughed and played in a nearby alley.

But Kid heard none of these sounds, saw none of these actions. Slowly, ever so slowly, rudimentary thoughts began to surface. He couldn't go to Clearwater. Clitterhouse would recognize him on sight and held no empathy for the plight of Kid Curry.

Kid returned to the hotel and picked up his saddlebags and paid for the room he would not be using. Next he went to the saloon and bought a bottle of whiskey that he stuffed into his saddlebag. Then he headed to the livery, saddled the chestnut and paid the owner. Finally he climbed into the saddle and whipped the chestnut into a gallop down the road and out of town.

Kid raced toward Porterville, slowing his pace only after the sun set. Forty miles later, Kid arrived in Porterville.

It was four in the morning when Kid walked into the Sheriff's office, still numb and now exhausted.

Trey Foldger, the Deputy swung his feet off the desk and quickly stood up, looking at the blonde cowboy who stood dazed in front of him.

"You Thaddeus Jones?" the Deputy asked.

Kid's grief stricken eyes raised slightly and he gave a single nod.

"Sheriff Trevers said you might be getting here. He's at his house. You want me to fetch him for you?"

Kid blinked several times as the deputy's words registered. He shook his head slowly and retreated out of the office.

Ten minutes later, Kid knocked on Lom's front door. Almost immediately a lamp was lit inside and the front door opened. Lom quickly threw an arm around Kid's shoulders and pulled him inside.

"You look exhausted, Kid. Here, sit down. I'll make some coffee."

Kid slumped into a chair at the table. "Lom?" was all he could utter.

Lom set the water on the stove to warm, then sat at the table across from Kid.

"I don't know all the details, Kid. I know Heyes was in Clearwater and a poker game got ugly and Heyes was shot. The doctor was able to keep him alive for a couple of days. Clitterhouse recognized him. The man who shot him got the reward. When he died, there wasn't anyone to notify, so they buried him in a pauper's grave.

Kid closed his eyes tightly, taking the full responsibility on his shoulders for not having been there to watch Heyes' back. His head bowed as his chin and lower lip began to quiver. Lom reached across the table and put his hand on Kid's. But Kid slowly pulled his hand away, letting it drop in his lap. He'd let his partner down. He hadn't protected him. He didn't deserve comfort.

Lom got up and poured them each a cup of coffee. He set Kid's down on the table in front of him, where it remained untouched.

"I gotta go to Clearwater," Kid finally whispered.

"You can't. That's exactly what Clitterhouse expects you to do. He's laying in wait for you."

"I... I can't leave Heyes there," Kid whispered.

"I didn't expect you would. I've been in touch with the Governor. He's going to notify Clitterhouse that me and a couple of my men are going to be claiming the casket. We'll take it where ever you want us to take it, Kid."

Kid shook his head. "I'm going," he said in a strong, adamant voice.

"No, you're not," Lom said equally adamantly. "You do, and Clitterhouse will either arrest you or kill you."

"Not if I kill him first, and the one that shot Heyes."

"So you'll add one, maybe two murders to your list of crimes?"

Kid shook his head. "I don't care, Lom... I got nothing left to care about."

"Kid," Lom began to argue, then reconsidered, knowing Kid wasn't capable to reasoning just yet. "Let's get you into bed, Kid. We'll talk about it more in the morning."

Just as the sun was beginning to rise, Kid fell into an exhausted sleep in Lom's spare bedroom. Lom headed in to town, but made a short day of it and was home again mid afternoon. Kid was still sleeping but finally woke around five, to the smell of pan fried steak and fried potatoes.

Kid stumbled through the house and out the front door to the outhouse. When he returned, Lom had a cup of coffee waiting for him. Kid slid into a chair at the table and sipped at the coffee.

"I was serious last night, Kid. You can't go to Clearwater. We'll collect Heyes and bring him to whatever location you want. You might consider right here in Porterville.

Kid shook his head and only took a minute to consider options.

"Claymore," he told Lom.

"Alright. Why there?"

"There's a particular spot Heyes always like in Devil's Hole. The grave won't be bothered there... He's got friends there."

Lom brought the food to the table and sat down. "Help yourself, Kid."

But Kid couldn't eat and didn't even try.

"Lom... Who killed him?"

Lom looked at Kid and sighed. "You're not going after him, Kid. Clitterhouse says it was a fair fight."

"I'll find out myself you know. You might as well tell me."

"What's it going to accomplish if you kill him, Kid?"

"I can't let Heyes' death go unpunished."

"So it's revenge...What kind of a man does that make you, Kid? ….Does it make you the kind of partner Heyes would be proud of?"

Kid's eyes raised to meet Lom's. Then he shoved back his chair and walked outside. He stood on the porch for a minute, staring off at the stretch of land before him. Then he stepped off the porch and walked to the road, and headed on foot to Porterville.

Two hours later Lom found Kid in the saloon, a bottle of whiskey nearly spent. Lom approached the table where Kid was sitting and sat down. Kid shoved the nearly empty whiskey bottle across the table toward Lom.

"Drink up," he said, his words heavily slurred.

"You think this will bring him back?"

Kid had both arms resting on the table and he pushed himself back and upright in his chair and raised heavy, drunken eyes to look at Lom.

"I think..." Kid began. Then his eyes grew distant and empty. He picked up the whiskey bottle and stared at the label. When he spoke again, his speech was slow and still slurred. "I think...this..just..might..be...my..new..partner."

Lom sighed heavily. "A poor excuse for a partner," Lom replied.

"Yeah... I am."

Again Lom sighed heavily, but didn't reply. He stayed with Kid and watched Kid finish off the whiskey. When Lom's Deputy stopped in on his rounds, Lom had him help to walk a very drunk Kid to the jail where they laid him down on a cot in one of the cells to sleep it off.

"You can have the rest of the night off, Trey. I think I'll be babysitting here for the rest of the night," Lom told his deputy.

It was after noon the next day when Kid woke, groaning at the pain in his head and the nausea in his stomach. He slowly moved his legs off the bed and sat on the edge of the cot, his head resting in the palms of his hands.

"Want some coffee?" Lom asked.

Kid slowly pried his eyes open, then squinted heavily from the starkness of the light.

"Yeah, thanks," Kid mumbled. "How much did I drink?"

"Close to a quart," Lom said as he walked into the cell and handed Kid the cup of steaming coffee.

Kid took a sip of coffee, then placed a hand over his eyes to block the light.

"We have a conversation to finish, Kid... Do you really think Heyes would want you to kill that man?"

"Don't try to use Heyes as leverage, Lom...My mind's made up."

"Then tell me this, Kid. Do you want to kill that man because he killed Heyes, or because you weren't there to protect Heyes? Are you trying to avenge your partner's death, or appease your own conscience?"

In Kid's current condition, he was neither prepared nor willing to engage in the conversation Lom was trying to force on him. But Lom's words hit a carefully guarded chord in Kid, and the throbbing in his head only intensified from the building anger that threatened to implode within him.

Like all of those few people who knew Heyes and Curry well, Lom was aware that the bond the two outlaws shared was so intricately woven, so finely tuned, so acutely fortified, that nothing short of death could ever penetrate or weaken that bond. And, like those few close friends, Lom knew that the foundation of that bond was rooted in their childhood. But why or how that root took hold, was never explained to him, and not even these few close friends had ever dared to question.

But now, with Heyes' death, the links that had made each of them whole, were broken and could never be repaired. Though he hadn't put it into words, that is exactly what happened to Kid when Heyes died. He now felt broken, and he saw no chance of repair.

What Kid lost when Heyes died was his conscience, his ability to feel empathy. What he was left with was a single minded need to destroy that which had destroyed Heyes. That which had destroyed him.

Kid hadn't had the time or the desire to think all this through, to see the ramifications for what they were. He only knew that he was in pain and the only way he saw to dull that pain was to eliminate the cause. He couldn't explain this to Lom, not ever. He barely understood it himself. But Kid knew what he had to do, and he was mule-headed enough, not to question what he knew had to be done.

So for the time being, Kid remained silent, and for the moment, Lom gave up.

"Come on, Kid. I'll get you back to the house."

"I can manage," Kid replied, his voice having mellowed with the change of conversation.

Kid drank the last of his coffee and handed the cup to Lom. Then he slowly stood and walked out of the cell, out of the office, and down the road to Lom's cabin where he fell into his bed to sleep away the afternoon.

Kid woke in the early evening and made his way into the main room where Lom was sitting working on the accounting books he'd brought home from the office.

"You look a might better than you did this morning," Lom commented.

"Fog is starting to clear," Kid explained.

"I kept coffee and stew warming on the stove for you."

Kid walked over to the stove and poured a cup of coffee. Lom was pleased to see that he also ladled some stew into a bowl. He brought both things into the sitting room and sat down, placing the coffee on the table in front of him.

"I've been doing some thinking, Lom,"

Lom closed the ledger, hoping the conversation would go better than their recent ones had.

I want to be part of bringing Heyes to his final resting place... I know I can't go into Clearwater and I'll leave that to you and Trey... But I want to wait outside of town and be part of Heyes' escort."

"Is that all you plan to do at Clearwater, Kid?"

Kid looked at Lom with weary eyes. "At least for now."

"Do I have your word on that?"

Kid nodded slowly. "Yeah."

Lom studied Kid's face. "Alright. As soon as I hear from the Governor that everything's been arranged, we'll go get Heyes."

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So two days later Lom, Trey, and Kid set out on the two day trip to Clearwater. About ten miles out of town, Kid veered off to the south and Lom and Trey took the buckboard into the town of Clearwater. They stopped at the Sheriff's office to determine the details of the transport.

"Corpse is over at the mortician's. He'll help you load him into the wagon."

Lom nodded. "Tell me what happened, how Heyes got killed," Lom replied.

"It was a fair fight. Mort Haggard accused Heyes of cheating and called him out. Heyes drew first. I seen it. He wounded Mort, but Mort used to be a Texas Ranger. He's a good shot. Put a bullet through Heyes' chest that stopped in his spine. Doc said it was probably a blessing that he died. He would have been paralyzed if he'd lived."

"Was he cheating?"

Clitterhouse shook his head. "Nobody else at the table thought he was... I've been waiting for Curry to show up. I've been keeping a man guarding Boot Hill... Guess them two wasn't as close as everybody thought."

Lom didn't reply to Clitterhouses' statement. "You know Heyes had been working for an amnesty?"

"That a fact?"

Lom nodded. "Been clean almost four years."

"Curry too?"

"Last I heard."

"Mort will be glad to hear that. He's been expecting Curry to show up and right now, he ain't in no shape to take him on."

Did you know Heyes was in town, I mean before this happened?" Lom asked.

Clitterhouse shook his head. "I suspect he hadn't been in town too long. Can I ask why you're doing this? Why you're so concerned about a no good outlaw?"

"That no good outlaw was a good friend, and he weren't an outlaw. He'd gone straight."

You a friend of Curry's, too?"

"I know him."

"Well, make sure he knows to stay out of this town, or he'll end up like his partner."

Lom turned to his deputy. "Let's go, Trey. Nothing here of any importance."

The mortician helped them move the wooden coffin onto the buckboard and warmed them that the warm weather would not be kind to to the body so they should make haste to reach the final resting place. Lom paid the mortician with the money the Governor had allocated to him and he and Trey headed southwest toward the road to Claymore..

Fifteen miles later they met up with Kid who had dismounted when he saw them approaching. When they brought the buckboard to a halt, Kid walked to the back where the coffin rested. He stood for several minutes staring at the coffin, his gloved hand coming to rest on the wide end of the lid.

Lom and Trey sat patiently and waited until Kid finally returned to his horse. He let the buckboard pass ahead of him, and fell in line behind the casket where he remained throughout the trip. That night when they made camp and laid out their bedrolls, Kid placed his away from the others and next to the buckboard.

"You two best put your badges in your pockets," Kid told them the next morning before they set out on the final leg of the journey. "When we get there, you two will wait at the check point and I'll drive Heyes into the compound. You can't go in. You won't come out alive if you try."

So when they reached the check point, Kid motioned the wagon to a stop and fired his Colt into the air.

"Who goes there?" a voice shouted from high above them.

"Curry...and Heyes." Kid shouted back in return.

"Who else?"

"They ain't coming in...Just me and Heyes."

"Come on in, Kid."

Lom and Trey climbed out of the seat. Kid handed Lom the reins of his horse and climbed into the seat of the buckboard.

"I'll likely be a few hours. There's food in my saddlebags. Don't go beyond this point."

Lom nodded and stepped back from the buckboard. Kid flicked the reins and alone, took his partner into Devil's Hole.

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Four hours later, Kid returned to the check point and climbed off the buckboard.

"You got Heyes laid to rest?" Lom asked.

Kid nodded.

"Well, it's going to be dark before we get back to Porterville," Lom said as he handed Kid the reins to his chestnut and climbed into the seat of the buckboard with Trey.

"I'm not going back with you, Lom," Kid said in a very matter of fact tone.

"Kid," Lom cautioned as Kid mounted his horse. "I talked to Clitterhouse today. He plans to kill you if you ride into Clearwater."

"Well, in four years the Governor ain't seen fit to give us amnesty... I'm thinking of maybe going back to outlawing."

Kid saw Lom's hand move toward his gun and instantly Kid had his drawn and pointed at the two lawmen.

"I know I ain't thinking straight right now...But I gotta figure out...a lot of things...Whatever I decide, Lom, Heyes and me have always been grateful to you for all you done for us...That ain't changed... And as much as I can see you want to, you can't help me with this."

Lom sighed heavily. "Will you at least keep in touch?"

"When I can...When I'm ready."

"What do I tell the Governor?"

"Don't tell him nothing, yet. It may turn out I still want amnestied, then again, it may not... But I know I can't give you an answer right now."

Lom slowly nodded, hopeful that Kid had reached a point of knowing he had to find a way to mend. Lom urged the horses forward while Kid stood and watched the buckboard disappear from sight. Then he pulled his reins to the right and headed toward the southwest, away from Porterville.

Away from Devil's Hole.

Away from Heyes.

0-0-0-0-0-

Kid Curry had a destination in mind. Kid was headed for Taos, New Mexico,to see the one man he thought might be able to help him.

Taos, New Mexico was a rugged and rough town with a mixture of Indians, Cowboys, and Merchants situated in the parched, arid, almost desert-like land of New Mexico. Most buildings were constructed of adobe clay, with a scattering of wooden structures. There were more saloons than churches and barroom brawls were more than a common occurrence.

Kid rode up to the hotel and dismounted. He pulled his saddle bags from the back of his horse and walked into the two story hotel to register.

"I wonder if you could help me," Kid said to the clerk as he signed the register. "I'm looking for a man, a minister by the name of Spencer?"

"Ah, Reverend Spencer can be found at the Episcopal Church on Oakland Street, about three blocks north of here.

"Thank you," Kid said as he was handed the key to his room. He made his way up the stairs to drop his things off in his room. Kid stopped at the dresser and took a long, hard look at himself in the mirror. He carried the stubble of several days without shaving. His clothes were dusty and worn. He'd lost at least ten pounds since Heyes died. His eyes looked weary, almost vacant, his hair dirty and dull.

Kid sighed heavily and poured water from the pitcher into the wash basin and removed his clothes and Henley, then set to work making himself presentable. An hour later Kid emerged from his room in clean cloths and shaven. He headed out to his horse and headed over to the church.

Finding no one outside, Kid approached the front doors and walked inside. The sanctuary was empty and Kid's footsteps echoed on the tile floor. Just as Kid was about to turn away, a door near the front of the church opened and a man dressed in a black robe entered and walked toward the alter. The man took an absent glance toward the back of the church and stopped when he saw Kid standing in the isle. The man squinted, then stepped into the isle and approached Kid.

"Thaddeus?" Reverend Spencer asked.

Kid clenched his jaw to keep his chin from quivering and a growing concern was evident on Spencer's face.

Spencer stopped just inches from Kid and he studied Kid's face, his posture, his demeanor. "Something horrendous... Is Mr. Smith with you?"

Kid shook his head

"He's dead, isn't he?"

"Kid couldn't keep his chin from quivering and he nodded his head."

"Are you seeking God's help?"

"I'm seeking... your help."

An understanding smile formed on Spencer's face and he put an arm around Kid's shoulders. "Come with me," he said and led Kid through the church to the door that led to his living quarters.

"Please, sit down, Thaddeus. I'll make us some coffee."

Kid sat in a chair, struggling to gain some composure while Spencer made coffee. A few minutes later, Spencer returned with a tray of coffee and two cups. He poured one cup and handed it to Kid. Then he sat down in a chair he had pulled up close to Kid.

"What is it, Thaddeus?"

"Are you like a priest? I mean, what I tell you don't go no further?" Kid asked.

Spencer smiled. "Yes, like a priest."

"It's gonna take a while," Kid explained.

Again Spencer smiled. "Thaddeus, you helped lead me back to the path of God. I have all the time you need."

Kid uttered a short sigh of relief and fought against the grief and tears that threatened to overcome him. He sighed again, more heavily.

"I guess I should start by telling you who I am. My name's not really Thaddeus Jones. My name is Jedediah Curry, and I'm one of them corrupt, lawless men that you said drove you from your faith," Kid began. "And my partner wasn't Joshua Smith. His real name was Hannibal Heyes."

"I see. Go on."

Kid continued to talk for well over an hour, telling Spencer all there was to know about their outlaw days, their devastating childhoods that he and Heyes always thought had contributed to them becoming outlaws, their amnesty quest, the posses and bounty hunters that pursued them almost relentlessly. He told him what he knew of Heyes' death, and how, because of that death, Kid felt he'd lost himself, too, that enough of him had died with Heyes, that he simply couldn't find a way to piece himself back together, that he now wanted nothing more in life than to avenge Heyes' death, even if that meant his own death, or worse, life in prison.

When Kid finished, he was both physically and emotionally exhausted. He bowed his head and pressed his thumb and fingers of his right hand against his temples. Tears dropped from his eyes to the leg of his pants.

"Thaddeus," Spencer said, placing his hand on Kid's shoulder. "You're not broken. You're wounded, but not broken. I can help you, God can help you, and you can help you. Wounds such as this can be devastating, and I won't lie to you. You will always have moments of insurmountable grief and pain. But you are never alone."

"I ain't been to church since I was eight years old. God likely don't remember me."

Spencer smiled. "I turned my back on God, Thaddeus. But he never turned his back on me."

"So what now?"

"Are you staying at the hotel?"

Kid nodded.

"Tomorrow, bring you're things here. There's a spare room for you. Like I said, this may take some time, a few weeks, perhaps more, perhaps less. But I'll help you find your path."

Kid nodded and pulled himself out of the chair. He was completely, totally exhausted and he returned to the hotel, lay down on his bed, and fell fast asleep.

The following day, Kid packed his things, checked out of the hotel, and moved into the small spare room in Spencer's living quarters.

"I don't know as getting religion is what I'm looking to find, Reverend," Kid explained to Spencer when he arrived.

Spencer smiled."I'm not offering you an education on religion, Thaddeus. A person's relationship with God is each person's individual choice. No, I want to help you discover Jedediah Curry, the true core of that individual is someone who has seen the ugly side of life, and has chosen a more compassionate and self confident path. I believe that is the man I actually met a few years ago, not Thaddeus Jones."

"I'm not sure I understand," Kid replied.

"When you stood up to Joe Briggs, you also stood up to Hannibal Heyes. You showed Briggs, Heyes, me, the whole town that you were a man of justice, a man of honor and courage, and yes, a man of compassion."

"But I shot Joe Briggs."

"You didn't shoot to kill him. You shot him to justify a wrong, and you did so only when all your other options had been tried. But more importantly, you stood your ground, made your own decision, independent of your partner. You showed yourself as much as everyone else that you are self reliant."

Kid considered what Spencer was telling him, uncertain of how valid his points actually were.

"Thaddeus, I witnessed the bond that you and Heyes shared. I bore witness to just how intimately the two of you spoke to each other, listened to each other, felt about each other. You haven't lost that bond because Heyes died. You just have to find a new path to restore that bond again. Once you've done that, you'll find that vengeance or vindication is futile and unnecessary."

"And that path is found through God?" Kid asked.

Spencer shook his head. "That path is through yourself. You might discover God along the way, you might not, but the path is through understanding yourself."

Kid sighed heavily. This sounded complicated, and he wasn't sure he even wanted to take too deep of a look inside himself. But he also knew he could not continue to live with the anger and despair that was consuming him. He had to find a way out of that before it killed someone, perhaps even himself.

0-0-0-0-0-

Kid spent the next three months living in the little room in the back of the church. The first week he simply helped Spencer with repairs and maintenance of the church and the grounds it stood on. But as the weeks past, he became more involved in both the community of the church and the community of the town. Taos was a community of diverse cultures that sometimes came together, and sometimes clashed with a vicious ugliness. Murder and violence were not uncommon, and Kid came to understand that neither was ever a positive solution. He understood why Spence had lost his faith those few years past.

But he also came to understand what had restored Spencer's faith, and it wasn't the simple act of turning the other cheek. That may have been the catalyst, but it was the spirit of those willing to forge on through the mayhem, through the destruction, through the hatred toward something better, toward acceptance and understanding, and unity.

As the months passed Kid came to realize that his own peace of mind would never come by killing the man who had killed Heyes. It would only come, through forgiveness. He struggled with this knowledge as knowing this and doing this were at opposite ends of the spectrum to him.

One evening, as Kid was entering his fourth month in Taos, he and Spencer sat in the study of the church. Spencer was going over his sermon for the next Sunday while Kid was reading Life on the Mississippi. At one point Kid closed the book, his eyes grew distant as he sat in deep contemplation. Spencer looked up from his work and saw that Kid was lost in thought.

"It's starting to come together for you, isn't it?" Spencer asked.

Kid nodded absently. Then slowly his head turned, his eyes falling on Spencer. "It's all a matter of choice, ain't it?"

Spencer smiled. "Choice?" he asked.

Kid nodded. "To forgive or not forgive, to continue the destruction or put an end to it, to love or to hate."

"To trust or not to trust, to believe or not to believe," Spencer added.

"Uh-uh."

"Have you forgiven?" Spencer asked Kid.

"That's the hardest one of all...It means letting go... letting go of a lot of things."

"Yes, it does."

"But it is the path...It brought Heyes back into my heart again."

Spencer smiled again. "I think you're ready now, Thaddeus."

Kid nodded. "Me, too... You know, I don't know what made me come here..."

"I do."

Kid looked at him again. He understood what Spencer was saying. "I've got my life back, again, with your help." Kid smiled and raised his eyes skyward. "And maybe you friend's help," he added.

Will you continue your quest for amnesty?

"Yeah. No point not doing that."

"You'll be going home soon?"

Kid nodded. "I gotta figure out where home is going to be, but there's time for that... I don't know how I can repay you, Spencer. You helped me find my partner again. You helped my find me again."

"No, it was me that owed you. We're even now, my friend."

Kid looked at Spencer with clear blue eyes that were finally at peace.

"You're my friend, too."