Dietrich had never driven anywhere past Casper in all the times he visited Wyoming. Upon leaving the small towns limits, he allowed himself to feel nervous, but didn't show it on his face. He didn't want Troy driving, as he didn't feel Troy was in a good state of mind for it. As much as I highly doubt Troy would drive us off the edge of a cliff, I am not taking the chance. Driving me crazy? He has already done that.

"There's a backwoods road you can take once you're out of Casper that leads directly northwest. It'll save you time," Troy said, breaking the silence.

"Are you sure that is a good idea?" Dietrich asked.

"It's just a long, empty road with a couple of farms on it. Nothing to worry about." Troy glanced at him. "Are you going to want me to drive at all?"

"No, not really."

"Why?"

"Because… you need to relax and not worry about anything. I will be your chauffeur."

"I don't want a chauffeur."

"Too bad. I am being your chauffeur for the foreseeable future."

"Dietrich, this is my truck after all."

"I know."

"At some point, I would like to drive."

"I will think about it."

Troy sighed. "I'm not going to cause an accident. I know that's what you're worried about."

Dietrich bit his tongue, then said, "Alright. What makes you think that?"

"Because if the roles were reversed, that's why I wouldn't let you drive. It's kinda funny, because you got really upset whenever any of us got concerned about you after your… you know. All you wanted was to be shown some trust."

Troy had a point. Dietrich thought for a moment. "Again, I will think about it, and maybe I will let you when I get tired."

"Well, you sure as hell aren't driving when you're tired."

"No. I will find a place for us to rest."

"Good luck. We'll have to camp in some parts."

"Alright. We can sleep in the truck."

"Dietrich, you're an inch shorter than Moffitt, which makes you about as awkward when it comes to cramming you in a small space. I can sleep in the truck. We might have to put you in the truck bed."

"I am not sleeping in the truck bed."

"You might have to."

"Then I will find us a hotel."

"Out in these parts? I don't think so. Trust me. I've been through this area before. When we get to the mountains, it's all wilderness, and I don't think the moose and grizzlies have learned how to open a bed-and-breakfast yet. Also—" Troy held up the container of cinnamon rolls, "is this all we have in terms of food?"

"Yes. Apart from some granola bars."

"Did we bring any guns?"

"I know you have your old sidearm from the war, and I brought one of your rifles. Just in case."

"Which rifle?"

"Your Springfield."

"Good. It sounds like we're going to need it for hunting." Troy gave Dietrich a look. "You really didn't think this through, did you?"

"I did. Mostly."

"I'm on the cusp of being concerned. You never do anything spontaneously."

"Well, I had to think of something before you closed off again."

"I know, but… you're doing just about everything I would do, and I can't decide if I should be worried or proud."

"Can you be both?"

Troy took on expression that suggested he was thinking very hard. "You know what? I'll try to be both."

"Only you would be able to accomplish that, Troy."

"Thanks."

Dietrich ended up taking Troy's advice and going down the northwest backroad. He wasn't at all surprised to find that the road wasn't paved very well, and the only traffic consisted of horses, cattle, and the occasional tractor. Troy was commenting on each horse he saw. At one point, Dietrich heard him say, "Hey, I lost a bid on you at an auction two years ago. At least you look happy. That's all that matters."

Dietrich smirked a little. "I know you have told me that your love of horses is not as intense as Moffitt's, but I think you are lying."

Troy's face reddened. "Moffitt's a total softie when it comes to horses."

"So are you."

"Am not."

"Oh, really? I have seen you interacting with your horses, Troy. You love them, and you do spoil them sometimes."

"No, I don't," Troy muttered.

"Yes, you do. We have all seen it. In all seriousness, though, your horses are lucky to have you."

"That… That's true."

Dietrich reached over to squeeze Troy's shoulder. "It is not something to be ashamed of, you know."

Troy didn't respond. He looked withdrawn again, and resumed staring out the window.

"Everything alright?"

Troy shrugged. "Yeah, I'm… good."

"Just… good?"

"Yeah."

"You are allowed to be honest, Troy. I am the only person around who will hear your concerns, fears, everything, and I promise I will not say anything to anyone."

Troy looked like he was seriously thinking about saying something. "I started thinking about… how I just kept working and working and wouldn't give myself a break. The horses all noticed that something wasn't right with me. I continued on as normal, but I didn't acknowledge the fact that they noticed."

Dietrich was quiet for a few moments as he tried to form a response. "I know Moffitt primarily uses his horses as his own therapy, in a way. Perhaps you could talk to him about it."

"I've thought about it. Haven't made a decision yet." Troy looked at Dietrich. "I should've acknowledged them. Moffitt goes on and on about how his horses seem to 'take away' some of his pain when he's having a rough day. I should've just… let one of mine try, if that's innate to them."

"You can always try when I bring you home."

Troy nodded a little. He became quiet once more, and stayed that way as they drove down the long, empty stretch of road. Even the farms had disappeared from view. They really were alone now.

Dietrich stayed focused on driving, but allowed his mind to wander occasionally. Making Troy happy will not occur overnight. Or, it could. You never know. He took another cinnamon roll from the container, and noticed Troy watching him in the corner of his eye.

"To be honest, I'd like something other than cinnamon rolls," Troy said. "When we get to the next town, could we stop?"

"We can," Dietrich replied. "I could go for a short break."

"Can I drive?"

"No."

Troy sighed again. "I'd like to drive."

"Not yet. I am not that tired."

"Dietrich, I'm not insane. I'm not going to turn the truck around to go home or drive us into a train."

"I will think about it." Dietrich could see Troy glaring at him.

The road eventually ended at an intersection. On the corner of both roads was a small and uncrowded diner. Dietrich made sure the keys were in his pocket after parking and getting out. He highly doubted Troy would stoop so low as to pickpocket him.

Troy followed as they walked into the diner, finding four patrons, a busser wiping down tables, a man in a dirty apron writing something in a notepad behind the counter, and a waitress bringing ice cream sundaes out to two of the patrons. Dietrich and Troy were led to a booth by a west-facing window, which offered a view of sloping grassland with patches of forested areas. The diner itself was clean, but smelled heavily of coffee and all manners of comfort foods.

"Have you been here before?" Dietrich asked.

"No," Troy replied. "We passed it on our way to Alaska, but didn't stop because we already made a stop in Casper." He was quiet while looking over the menu. "I still can't believe we're doing this."

"Do you still think it is a bad idea?"

"I don't know what to think, but I'm going along with it because I trust you."

"Thank you. How are you feeling?"

Troy shrugged. "Still frustrated, tired. Beyond that, not really sure how to feel. It… feels like a hundred things are pulling at me all at once." He gave another sigh, rubbed his face, and pushed his menu away. "I lost my appetite."

"We are not leaving until you eat something."

"Dietrich—"

"No arguing."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

Troy said nothing until a waitress approached them. He looked somewhat reluctant, but placed an order. When the waitress left, Troy looked back at Dietrich. "You happy now?"

"I will accept it," Dietrich replied.

"I'm starting to understand why you got so annoyed with us when we were helping you with your depression."

"And it only took you nine years."

"Yep."

The two had gone to bars and restaurants together several times over the years. Normally, there were conversations. Conversations about random things, serious things, funny things, sad things, happy things. Anything. That afternoon, there was barely anything. Dietrich could see Troy was forcing himself to eat and didn't look like he was enjoying himself all that much.

"Maybe I'd be happier if I knew why this happened," Troy said.

"Would you?" Dietrich asked.

"I like to think so. I told you that we saw a lot of doctors, but they couldn't figure out if it was me or Shauna who… isn't working properly. The only advice we were given was to just keep trying. Maybe we just weren't getting lucky." Troy stared into his water glass for a moment. "I may have gotten mouthy with one doc who was pointing out all my old injuries in my X-rays. He was telling me that it was 'obvious' I didn't let them heal properly, and I said, 'I was fighting a war. Wars don't stop for people to heal.'"

"Do you think any of your injuries may contribute to why you cannot father children?"

Troy didn't answer right away. "It's… possible. My memories of what happened under Colonel Beckmann are a bit fuzzy. I only know for certain that I was held captive for seven days, but the details aren't clear. I remember the stuff that's showed up in my nightmares, but that's it."

"Surely, the doctors would have found something."

"You'd think. I was told there's nothing wrong." Troy took a drink from his glass.

"Strange. At least… neither of you have something serious."

"There's that." Troy became quiet again. "Maybe it's not something physical. Maybe we just aren't meant to have children, for whatever reason. It's just not in our fates or destinies or whatever."

"Possibly, but I do not see any reason why."

"Well, do you know why you have a prophecy?"

"No."

"Then there could be a reason. We just don't know what it is."

"True, but there is still—"

"Can we talk about something else?"

"You are the one who brought this up."

"And now I want to change it."

Dietrich took a breath. "Fine. How is your lunch?"

"It'd be better if I had an appetite."

Dietrich chose not to continue that. He finished his food long before Troy did, and waited patiently while having dessert. Eventually, he said, "If you are dead-set against eating at the moment, I will not make you sit here."

"Thanks." Troy pushed his dish away. "I can't. Not right now."

They didn't leave until after Dietrich finished his dessert, paid for everything, and left the waitress a generous tip. Troy got back into the passenger seat without a word, looking incredibly miserable.

Dietrich left him alone for the time being. The next road they took would eventually lead them into Montana. There would be no turns apart from the winding curves weaved through the mountains. All Dietrich had to do was follow it. With all the time it would take to reach their next turn, Dietrich allowed his mind to wander a little. He thought back to when Tully and Hitch visited him not long after he moved into his current home. Somehow, he knew Troy had sent them, but he didn't call them out on it until a few hours after they arrived. As annoying as it was that they were sent to make sure he was getting into healthier habits and doing his best to manage his depression, he did end up appreciating their help. They showed that they cared about him and wanted to see him thrive and be happy.

Admittedly, Dietrich still had days where happiness was elusive, but he had gotten better at shutting out the thoughts telling him that he was a worthless failure undeserving of anything positive. It was easy to do that when he was home. When on duty with the Bundeswehr, it was a little different. He had to put a lid on things quickly. At home, he could make a cup of tea, sit outside with a cigarette, read a book, play a few notes on the piano, something—anything—to distract himself. On duty, none of those were an option. He just had to keep fighting, keep going, keep crawling forward if he had to.

There was no stopping. No matter how hard it got.

When the sun started setting, Dietrich started looking for signs for towns. With none in sight, he realized they would indeed be camping that night. Great, he thought.

To make matters worse, clouds had begun creeping in the further the sun sank below the western horizon. Almost as soon as the truck was parked just off the side of the road, rain began pelting down. Dietrich sighed, then looked at Troy. "Are you still planning on making me sleep in the truck bed?"

"No," Troy said. "We're both going to have raging back and neck pain in the morning."

"Then we will suffer together." Dietrich turned the vehicle off.

"Yeah, and we have no food apart from cinnamon rolls and granola bars."

"Are you hungry?"

"For once, yeah."

"Then eat the cinnamon rolls and granola bars. They are better than nothing."

Much to Dietrich's surprise, Troy listened to him. Dietrich, in the meantime, listened to the rain tapping against the roof of the truck while tilting the seat back as far as it could go—which wasn't very far.

"You know what else?" Troy asked with his mouth full.

"What?"

"We don't have coffee. We both need a cup of coffee in the morning. I can't remember where the next town is."

"Your point?"

"We're going to be in pain and very, very grouchy in the morning."

"Sounds like when we were chained together in North Africa."

"Yeah, pretty much. I mean, here, we're not actually chained together, and we don't have to worry about dying of dehydration, or one of us trying to beat the other's brains in with part of the chain."

"Nope. Not anymore."

"I was more worried about surviving than getting a cup of coffee."

"Same here."

"Here, though, we can worry about that cup of coffee."

"We sure can." Dietrich made a futile attempt to get comfortable.

Troy rolled down his window before taking out a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. He put one in his mouth before offering one to Dietrich, who politely declined. Things were quiet for the next several minutes. Troy was taking his time on his cigarette, and Dietrich was staring up at the roof, trying to get himself to fall asleep.

Troy was in a chatty mood, though. "This is my first night since returning from Korea that I've slept without Shauna. I hope she made it to North Carolina okay."

"I hope so, too," Dietrich said.

"What if something did happen? We're out here. There's no way to know—"

"Troy."

"What?"

"Stop. Shauna is fine."

"But—"

"Stop. You are letting your mind spiral out of control."

Troy finished his first cigarette rather quickly, then got started on another. "There's no way of knowing out here. What if the plane crashed? What if…"

The last time Dietrich had seen Troy so anxious was during the tornado that hit on his first visit eight years ago. Like the tornado, Troy's concerns were on Shauna, but at least there was a valid reason for his nervousness. This time, everything was in Troy's head. Dietrich admitted to himself that it wasn't impossible that something happened during Shauna's flight to North Carolina, but it was far more likely that things had gone smoothly.

When Troy became quiet, Dietrich wondered if he had talked himself back into rationality. Then Troy said, "I haven't been very appreciative of her the last few days. Please, let me have a chance to see her and tell her how much I love her. I'll never let go, I promise."

Dietrich gave him a look. "Are you talking to me or God?"

"I don't know."

"Well, last I checked, I am not God, so I am afraid I cannot help you."

"You could drive us home so I can call Hitch and make sure Shauna landed in North Carolina safely. That'd be helpful."

"I am not driving home. You need to stop letting monkeys run wild in your brain. Shauna is fine."

"How do you know?"

Yes, Hans, how do you know? Dietrich sighed. "Troy, go to sleep."

"No. Move over. If you're not going to drive, then I will."

"The only place you are going to drive us is crazy, now stop worrying and go to sleep!"

Troy glared at him. "You don't care, do you?"

"Of course I care! I consider Shauna to be a good friend. The statistics are low that she has gotten hurt in a plane crash. You are overreacting to your own fear and it needs to stop. You are not helping yourself or anyone by continuing to dwell on this!"

"And what if you're wrong?!"

"Then we will deal with it!"

"How do we just 'deal with' somebody close to us dying?!" Troy's voice was raised, and his face was red. "There is no 'dealing' with it! There's just letting the damn train of grief hit you! And you know what? I'm used to that train! Let it hit me! Maybe I should just let a real one hit me, because I am sick of losing people—"

"Do you hear yourself right now?!" Dietrich snapped.

A heavy blanket of silence dropped over the truck. The rain pattered on for the next few minutes. Troy looked like all of his energy was flushed from his body. He slumped in his seat. "I… heard. Dietrich, I'm sorry—"

"Stop talking and listen to me for a moment. Please." Dietrich let out his breath. "Please, please, please tell me you were not being serious when you said that you should be hit by a train."

"I don't… know."

"I understand that things have been difficult lately. I understand that you have lost people over the course of your life. I know that is partly why you kept yourself closed off from your own team. I know you are angry, frustrated, and miserable because of everything that has happened. Your life is still worth living. You still have people who love and care for you, and they—we would be devastated if something happened to you."

He got no response from Troy at first. Dietrich didn't press further, giving Troy all the time he needed to think. He adjusted his seat again, and rolled down his window to have a cigarette of his own.

Finally, he heard Troy sigh and say, "I shouldn't have yelled at you, but I've been needing to do that for a long time."

"If you need to scream, just do it," Dietrich replied.

"I couldn't bring myself to yell in front of Shauna. I'm used to yelling at you, so…" Troy shrugged.

"No need to worry about it. Scream, cry, do what you have to." Dietrich took a draw on his cigarette, and exhaled smoke out the window.

Years ago, Dietrich never would have thought Troy was capable of breaking down. He kept his emotions locked up so tightly that it seemed such an occurrence was impossible. But, Dietrich had to remind himself that Troy was human, like everyone else. It was just tougher to find out what could cause him to break down.

Even during the war, Dietrich doubted he would have wanted to see Troy reduced to a sobbing mess. Even after his worst raids. Even after so many men were killed in the process. Dietrich didn't feel it was right to want to see Troy suffer, physically or emotionally.

He glanced to his right when he heard the first sniffle. Troy was facing away from him, curled up as best he could in the passenger seat. He looked uncomfortable, his breathing was shaky, and Dietrich could hear the telltale signs that Troy was indeed in tears. After letting Troy cry for a minute, Dietrich reached over to touch his back.

"It's like you said when I was trying to help you," Troy said. "I keep getting knocked down, and I want to get back up."

"Part of you just wants to stay down," Dietrich said.

"Yeah."

"I will help you get back up."

Troy nodded. "Thanks, Dietrich."

"No problem. Do I have to worry about you around railroad tracks now?"

"No. I'll be alright, but… next town we find, I want to call Hitch and make sure everything's okay. Can we do that?"

"Yes. We can do that. Are you going to get some sleep?"

"I'll try." Troy remained curled up in a ball in the passenger seat. His breathing eventually evened out, but it wasn't difficult to see he was getting cold with both windows down.

Dietrich finished his cigarette before closing his window, then got on his knees to close Troy's window. Since he was up, he maneuvered his skinny frame into the back in order to grab a raincoat, and draped it over Troy. He got back in the driver's seat, did his best to get comfortable, and tried to sleep.


The rain had stopped at some point in the night. Dietrich awoke to hear water dripping onto the roof of the truck from leaves and branches above them, a concert of crickets outside, and Troy's even breathing next to him. It was still dark out, but there was a sliver of pinkish-orange light appearing in the east. Tempting as it was to get started on driving for the day, Dietrich decided to let Troy continue sleeping. He admitted to me yesterday that he has not had proper sleep in a while. This is not exactly the best place to sleep, but he is still sleeping. Waking him would not be a good idea.

Dietrich got out the container of cinnamon rolls to have one while waiting for Troy. He did his best to stay quiet while working through his cinnamon roll, and occasionally looked over at Troy. Long after the cinnamon roll was gone, Dietrich started thinking about coffee. A cup would be nice right about now. He glanced at Troy again. He is still asleep, though. With a quiet sigh, Dietrich looked at his watch, squinting in the dim light. Almost six. Not many places will be open. It will probably take us a little while to find one anyway, so… Dietrich weighed his options. He decided to let Troy sleep for another hour.

There was movement in the corner of his left eye. Dietrich turned, and nearly jumped at the sight of a black bear looking in through the window of the truck, sniffing the glass. Oh, this is not ideal. Dietrich made a shooing motion with his hands. "Go! Get out of here!" he hissed.

The bear paid no attention to him. It stood on its hind paws, continuing to put its big, wet nose against the window.

"There is no food in here, Pooh!" Dietrich said. "Go away!"

The bear looked at the container of cinnamon rolls between Dietrich and Troy.

"Those are mine! Get!"

The bear began fumbling with the door handle.

"Absolutely not!" Dietrich shoved the key in the ignition, turned it, and slammed on the gas, speeding away from the bear. In the mirror, he could see the bear looking greatly confused, but it didn't bother pursuing them. Dietrich didn't stop for quite some time, but eventually did when he was certain the bear was far away. When he did, Troy, who wasn't buckled in, was thrown forward a little.

"What happened?" Troy said, suddenly finding himself wedged between the seat and the dashboard. "Where'd we go? Who's attacking us?"

"Nobody is attacking us. There was a bear trying to get in, so I left," Dietrich replied.

Troy's blue eyes were bleary with sleep as he tried to free himself and get back in the passenger seat.

"Good morning, by the way."

"What time is it?" Troy rubbed his eyes.

"It is six in the morning."

"Okay." Troy took another moment to continue waking up. "I guess we're… hitting the road now."

"Yes, we are."

"I don't know about you, but I'd like breakfast. A real breakfast. Eggs and bacon."

Dietrich took it as a good sign that Troy had an appetite. "Coffee, too."

"Definitely." Troy sighed. "You know what Shauna makes that's really good? Coffee cake. You've had her coffee cake, right?"

"I have."

"It's the best, isn't it?"

"Oh, I would say it is up there with Irena's walnut cake, pumpkin pie, chocolate pie, Tully's pecan pie, Molly's honey buns—"

"Okay, we get it; you like dessert."

"Well, is there any dessert you enjoy? Other than unsweetened baking chocolate?"

Troy gave him a dirty look. "As a matter of fact, yes, I do have a favorite dessert. It's baklava. Shauna makes it using my grandmother's recipe. She learned I can speak and read Greek when I translated that and a bunch of other recipes for her."

"That must have been an interesting experience for you."

"It was. Shauna knew I was Greek, but she didn't know that I actually know the language until I asked if she wanted to know some of my grandparents' recipes. She was a bit surprised, to say the least."

"I know the subject of you teaching is a bit of a sore one, but did Moffitt ever take some of your books to learn it himself?"

"He did, actually. I sent him some just before I went to Korea."

"Perhaps I should learn at some point."

"Why?"

"Why not? I am fluent in English. I know a bit of Arabic, but I have not had a chance to use it since leaving North Africa. I think it would be an interesting experience to learn Greek."

"Okay. I'll teach you all the swear words, and then Moffitt can teach you the actual language."

Dietrich grinned a little.

"I still remember the day my grandfather sat me down in his living room—I was twelve—and he told me that he was going to teach me some new words in Greek. I was confused at first, and then when he started rattling those words off, I heard my grandmother start yelling at him, 'Why are you teaching Sam those words, he's too young!' and Grandpa said, 'He's got to learn them sooner or later!' Turns out… he was right." Troy sighed. "Both of them died a year later." He tried to smile again. "That was a fun day."

"To be fair, my uncle was the one to teach me English curse words."

"I forget, did you ever mention his name? I'm familiar with your aunt Miriam. Was this her husband?"

"Yes, he was. His name was Gerhardt. He was more of a father-figure to me than my own father. Anyway, he knew English from when he used to travel. He had story after story of going to America, Britain, Italy, Egypt, India, China. He went everywhere." Dietrich smiled as memories came flooding back. "Both he and Miriam taught me English. One day, Uncle Gerhardt took me into the dining room, and told me that there were a handful of words that I needed to learn, because they were naughty and I needed to make sure I did not use them in the wrong context. The look on Miriam's face when she entered the room, hearing him listing out all the colorful ways certain words are used, was priceless."

"Did she yell at him?"

"No. She relaxed when he told her why he was using them." Dietrich was quiet for a moment. "I miss them."

"I miss my grandparents," Troy said. "Christmas and Easter weren't the same without them."

"Holidays certainly became a lot less fun after Uncle Gerhardt's passing. I know I told you that the year Miriam passed away was also when I was officially kicked out of the family on Christmas."

"Yeah. You went from getting kicked around by us to… that." Troy looked at Dietrich. "I think things would've been different if we knew what was going on with you."

"I doubted I would have listened to you at the time."

"You sure?"

Dietrich nodded. "My depression was slowly beginning to take more and more control. It worsened when I learned of my aunt's death."

"We could've gotten you out."

"Well, that never happened. At least… things are different now."

"It'll always feel strange. I know one of us points it out every time we see each other, but even I still can't believe it at times, and I was the one who pushed the hardest for us to set everything aside and get to know each other a little better."

"There really is a special kind of irony that comes with your best friend once being someone who tried to kill you. The kind that makes you wonder if what happened was real. Granted… I will never doubt that what happened was real. You never forget writing all those letters to families, saying their loved one is not coming home, and never will."

Troy became quiet, looking deep in thought. "I know you mentioned that… when your depression was at its worst, you would hear the voices of your own men telling you that you were a failure and it was you who got them all killed. Do you think they'd actually blame you?"

Dietrich shrugged. "I would hope not. A lot of them looked up to me."

"But it sometimes feels like you let them down."

"I had to fight with that a lot when I joined the Bundeswehr. Being placed in charge of so many people again was a bit frightening at first, because I was having bad dreams where… I had to watch them get slaughtered in front of me, and I was powerless to do anything."

"I think I mentioned to you before that I don't regret a lot of my actions, because my job was to make sure Allied troops would survive to the next day. But… if there was a way I could've protected those troops without giving ammunition to the demons in your head, I would've done that."

"I doubt that was possible."

"Well, if it was, I would've done it." Troy smirked. "Besides, you yourself said one of my strengths is doing the impossible."

"I said it can be a strength and a weakness, because you seem to have no way of knowing when to quit."

"I sure don't."

You said that so confidently that I cannot decide if I should be concerned or not. Dietrich sighed. "I am grateful, though, that you do not give up."

"I didn't give up on you when things got bad."

"No, and I have no intention of giving up on you."

The conversation died for a few moments. Troy picked it back up. "I let everything come to the surface last night when I said I should be hit by a train. I was angry and didn't mean it."

"I should have just suggested we find a phone in the next town, but you were angry, I was getting frustrated, and—" Dietrich shrugged. "At least things worked out."

"Yeah. I'm sorry for scaring you, though. And for being a pain in the ass."

"You are always going to be a pain in the ass. Apologizing for that is a waste of your breath."

At least, Dietrich thought, Troy was smiling again. He still felt like they both had a long road ahead, though, both literally and figuratively.