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(A/N: Kind of a cheesy and abrupt ending, but this story is pretty old and I don't have a whole lot of time to revamp it. Or a whole lot of motivation. I hope my readers have enjoyed it though. Thank you for any reviews that have been left or will be. I appreciate it.)

Restored

Bob toppled through the air with his son. At any moment he expected to hit the ground and die. How striking the rotted mineshaft hadn't killed him instantly, he didn't know. His cries of fear and Josh's shrieks were all that could be heard.

He splashed down in a frigid lake and felt the icy water close over him and steal his breath away. He nearly had the wind knocked out of him. A lake? Really? He damned his luck. At least, though, he was alive. For now. Frantically trying to get his bearings, he swam for the surface. He had to get out of this water before he caught hypothermia! Which he might still catch if he didn't take immediate and preventative measures. He broke the surface, choking and gasping for air. Treading water, he looked around in terror. Darkness, deep water, and enclosed spaces. Oh god, he was living the worst of his nightmares and phobias! He nearly started to panic before willing himself to calm down and get to solid ground. His heart was beating so loudly he could swear it was echoing. He reached land and pulled himself onto it. Just then he heard a screech. A wendigo screech. Josh's screech. He froze, dread seizing him. Gasping, he tried to move away from it only to cry out in pain and collapse to the ground. About that time, he realized just how much pain he was in. His back, he realized with a chill. He'd injured his back! Dammit, it was probably a fracture or a break. Of all the damn things to break, his back?! It would render him virtually useless! He could feel his ankle throbbing. That meant it was probably broken too! Maybe even in multiple places. Here was hoping it was a sprain instead. If it wasn't, he'd just become doubly useless.

I'm going to die. Oh god, I'm going to die.

No. No, he couldn't give up. He would tank through the pain as best he could. He might regret it in the future, when he was rescued, but to be rescued he needed to be alive, and if he was never rescued, then what did it matter if he'd shot his back for life? Life wouldn't be long anyway. Damn he was in bad shape. The pain was piercing through the cold now so that it was all he was registering. He sobbed in anguish, biting his tongue to keep from crying out.

You're doomed.

He heard the screech of the wendigo again and looked quickly over. A chill raced through his body when, in the light from the hole in the roof, he saw his son writhing in pain. Josh hadn't landed in water, Bob realized in horror. Josh had landed on his back on a rock! He'd broken his back! Panic and fear filled Mr. Washington. He didn't want to imagine the pain his son must be in. Even despite his own suffering, he couldn't bear to watch his child in pain. The cold clouding his judgment, he began to drag himself towards Joshigo, who had finally stopped shrieking but was no longer moving due to the severe injury.

What are you doing? It's smarter to leave that thing that was your son to die! It isn't Josh anymore. Leave it to die and focus on getting yourself out.

Of course, while the survivalist in him thought in such terms, the father decidedly did not, so he continued onward. His son couldn't move, so could do him no harm in its condition. He didn't know what he was doing, really. What he knew was that this thing - his little boy - would die of starvation down here, every bit as useless as his father was now if not more so, if he did nothing. Common sense suddenly kicked in and Bob stopped moving towards the wendigo. Just because it was injured and likely immobile didn't mean it would be less deadly if he got too close. He watched his boy, tears pricking his eyes, then curled up with a whimper to wait to be found by the others. Surely they'd gone for help by now! Of course, odds were that they believed this would be a body recovery mission at this point. It might still be… He could hear the wind, high above, picking up. A storm was brewing. A violent one. He swallowed, closing his eyes.

You're going to die here…

No. He wasn't giving up. Not yet. Determinedly, he began to strip off his wet clothes despite the pain tearing through his body with every movement he made. He needed to get warm, he needed to get dry. Thank goodness he'd fallen with his survival pack. In retrospect, that was probably what had kept him alive when he and Josh had struck the rotting boards blocking up the mine. The pack had taken the impact. Shivering, he pulled out a blanket from its water-proof bag and draped it over himself. Shaking still, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. With sleep, the pain would stop.

Maybe, if he was lucky, he wouldn't wake up…

He cursed that thought, but the more he thought about it, the more inviting it sounded. He tried to focus on a game plan. Rationing was key to survival now. There were two of them though, and that made it even tougher. The truth was that he hadn't packed enough rations for a survival scenario like this that would last for any length of time. He'd assumed he'd be mobile and able to hunt, if worse came to worse, not broken at the bottom of a godforsaken mineshaft. There was nothing to eat in this cavern! Even if there were some fish in the lake behind him, he was simply too injured to catch any. In fact, he was helpless to do anything but drag himself across the ground like a wounded reptile. At least the lake guaranteed he wouldn't be dehydrated as well as starved.

He heard what almost sounded like a whine escape the Wendigo's mouth. Tiredly he looked towards it. What was he even doing planning a survival scenario for two? There wasn't any point to it! He couldn't... he couldn't save his son. He just couldn't. Even if he was able to salvage the mind, Josh still wouldn't be alright! He'd never be alright again! He damned this whole situation to hell and lay down his head in defeat. He just wanted to sleep...

UD

One day passed, then two, then three. A winter storm had roared every night. Rescue operations were out of the question with the weather like it was. There was no sign of it slowing either. He got the sinking feeling he'd be here a very long time. He heard Joshigo moaning in hunger. Of course, his own stomach was protesting as well, but presently he wasn't thinking like a rational survivalist. He was thinking like a father. Though his son was a monster, Mr. Washington was just enough out of his gourd that he was still willing to give his life to save it. Save this creature who would probably go on killing again and again. Oh, he definitely wasn't thinking clearly. At first he willed himself not to do anything rash, told himself over and over it was the growing delirium from the cold and the pain and the hunger making him think that way, but soon fighting it just became too much. He gave in.

He reached for his survival pack and inside. He pulled out some of the rations and some of the meat he'd managed to hunt prior to this that Josh hadn't snatched from the trails. With no fire to cook it over, it was useless to him. It would go bad soon anyway. Shaking his head, he threw it at Josh wendigo.

Josh screeched, seizing the food and devouring it swiftly. Screeching again, he swiped at Bob as Mr. Washington pulled himself closer, intent on giving the creature water. Mr. Washington paused, just out of reach, and stretched out his canteen, sliding it across to his son though he kept the strap around his wrist so he could pull it back. Josh seized the canteen and tore it towards him, dislocating his parent's arm in the process. Mr. Washington screamed in agony, hearing the pop. "Oh god!" he exclaimed, clenching his jaw to try and distract from the anguish tearing through him. Josh shrieked in rage before downing the canteen thirstily. Mr. Washington seized the strap with his uninjured arm and yanked the empty thing away from Josh again. He would need it to keep watering his boy, after all.

You've lost all your senses. You're not even in survival mode anymore, are you?

Oh, I am, but I'm in survival mode for two people, not one.

It isn't a person.

Yes it is. He's my son…

You've lost your mind. But then what does it matter? You don't even care anymore.

He told himself he was being an idiot, sharing his rations with a monster, but then what did it matter anyway? It wasn't like either of them were getting out alive at this point. It made him feel better about all this and kept him from completely giving up and letting the cards fall as they may. He tried to move back from the wendigo, but barely could anymore. His body felt half-frozen. He was damn certain he had frostbite too. Not severe yet, but there was certainly the risk. Luckily, he'd gotten his dry clothes back on the moment he'd woken up on the first day they'd been stuck here. It had given him something more than the heated blanket to rely on. Oh, how the hell was he even still alive at this point? He lifted his head weakly to look hopelessly at his son.

"I'm sorry," he murmured to him. "I'm sorry I wasn't good enough."

The wendigo let out a low growl and turned to look at him. Silently Bob observed it. It occurred to him, suddenly, that Josh hadn't screeched at him since the first day. Josh had only done what he was doing now, watching intently as Mr. Washington moved around. He could almost dare hope, but he was so tired of false hope. He was only fooling himself in the end. His mind was so deep in a haze. He wondered if he would ever think clearly again. Reaching behind him, he took off his pack and threw the whole thing towards Josh, rations at all. He was done. He was just so done. There was only enough in there for one or two mouthfuls anyway. Curling up, he closed his eyes. Hypothermia would take him before hunger did anyway at this point. He was just so exhausted... Finally, he began to drift off to sleep. He hoped, yet again, that he never woke up. Honestly, given the condition he was in, at this point he didn't expect to. He was on borrowed time now. He had been for a long time. He felt something in his pocket and frowned a bit, pulling it out to look. His expression crumbled to one of grief. The final totem. Maybe there was still a chance for his son to remember, if not recover. Maybe, though, that would be too cruel at this point. He had tried for so long to hold onto hope. Now he felt it slipping through his fingers like water. He needed to stop doing this to himself. Why couldn't he just give up?

Because he's your son...

Joshigo was a pale memory of his son.

You saw hints of humanity.

He'd been seeing things.

There's still a chance.

Tears threatened his eyes and he let out a shaking breath, holding the totem close.

At least try.

He was so tired of trying in vain.

For your son you can try once more.

He opened his eyes. They were narrowed now in some last remnant of determination. He looked towards his son, back at the totem once more, then at Josh again. He saw the wendigo crawling towards the pack. Josh was healing. Josh was becoming mobile. Josh would devour him without a second thought if he got close enough. No matter what he did at this point, he was doomed at his child's hand, but he would seize this last thread of hope with all the strength he had left and not let it go until he was dead. Without further hesitation, he threw the totem toward the wendigo. Joshigo screeched, immediately lunging at the object, and his hand closed on the totem. Immediately the boy - rather, what had once been a boy - froze as an image flashed up and filled what little was left of his human mind.

He saw his family. Mother, father, Beth, Hannah. They were together. They were happy, spending so many good and content days up here in this place for vacations and getaways. He heard his sisters laughing, talking. He saw himself with them, horsing around and joking with them, pranking them. He saw his friends there with them during a massive getaway they'd all had together, enjoying all manner of sports and games and fun under the watchful eyes of their parents. He saw his mother… Gently and lovingly she watched her children, grinning and laughing with them… He saw his father… His father with back turned to him as he gazed out over a spectacular view of the sun set. He saw the man turn to him slowly, smile fondly, and speak his name.

"Joshua..." Mr. Washington breathed. Joshigo turned sharply to him as the totem dissolved into ash. The wendigo just stared. Mr. Washington felt his hope fading. He'd done all he could now. The rest was up to figurative fate. Whatever came of it at this point was what came of it. Exhaustedly he lay his head down and heard his stomach growling for hunger. It didn't matter, he told himself. Soon he wouldn't feel anything anymore. Closing his eyes, he let himself at last drift off.

UD

Mr. Washington woke up to the sound of movement. Movement? What could possibly be moving…? He stiffened, catching his breath as terror gripped him. Josh! Josh had healed. Josh was mobile again! Mobile and probably starving, which meant he was prey. He looked quickly up and gasped. Josh was right there! By the survival pack ripping through it. On hearing the sharp gasp, the wendigo turned quickly in his direction. Mr. Washington held his breath. Josh growled lowly and began to creep towards the man quickly, searching for more food. Bob didn't dare even breathe. Soon Josh headed off in another direction. As soon as he couldn't hear his son anymore, Mr. Washington forced himself to move. Though his ankle and back had only started to heal—and very, very badly at that—his choice was to get out of this chamber or die. He would push through the residual pain. Just then he heard a shriek and stiffened, eyes widening. Josh was back!

Quickly the man dragged himself as quickly away from the sound as he could. He had to hide! Swiftly he found a place he could hide where he'd be out of sight - namely behind a rock - and pulled himself to it. He could hear Josh searching, slinking about. He held as still as possible, but of course luck wasn't on his side. Apparently, Lady Luck despised him in fact, because as Josh crept nearby, a rock was jostled loose. Said rock fell from its spot, landing on the still-healing ankle. Mr. Washington screamed in pain, feeling it break anew. Or at least give out. He couldn't even tell anymore. Instantly Joshigo was there, peering down and screeching. It lunged. Mr. Washington screamed again, this time in fear, and threw his arm up in front of him to defend himself. When he didn't feel teeth sinking into flesh, he dared look up. Josh was falling back slowly. Mr. Washington could only gape. Suddenly Josh turned and quickly clambered deeper into the mineshaft, leaving his father behind. Mr. Washington watched after the wendigo silently. For a moment he felt guilt. If there was a way out of this mine and Josh got free, how many innocent people had he just been doomed by trying to keep his son alive? Tears burned his eyes. He should have just let things happen as they would, but at this point, it was too late for regrets. Soon none of it would matter to him anymore anyway. He had accepted, at this point, that death was imminent. No one was coming for him… If they were, they wouldn't be in time. Laying back, he closed his eyes and waited.

UD

How long he'd lain there in the darkness totally alone he didn't know. What he knew was that suddenly he was waking up to the sound of something falling next to him. He looked quickly over and saw the body of a fish! He blinked in shock. What was this now? He looked up sharply and caught his breath. He saw his son's form crouched in the darkness and watching. He didn't understand what was happening. What he did know was that he was starving. He didn't have time to question the gift. He just needed to eat. Sitting gingerly up, he took the fish and began to cut into it with his survival knife. Removing a chunk of meat, he put it into his mouth and wryly joked to himself about it being a low-brow form of sushi. The fish was large, though, and it was food, and it was strength. Here was hoping there were no worms or parasites inside. He finished it quickly and his stomach begged for more, but he tried to ignore it. He leaned back and closed his eyes again to try and sleep once more. It wasn't like there was much else to do anyway.

He was awakened by another plop. He opened his eyes and looked down. A fish was in his lap! He stared at it in disbelief then began to cut into it and eat it as well. As he did, it dawned on him what was happening. His son was bringing him food. His son was keeping him alive! His eyes widened and he looked upwards. That wasn't a sign of a monster. That was a sign of humanity! He scanned the darkness and soon spotted his son high above. "Josh?" he called out carefully but hopefully. Josh screeched and left again. Mr. Washington watched after him in stunned disbelief. This was real. There had been humanity! Suddenly hope was back full force. Hope unlike anything he'd felt before. That was it. No more lying around. He had to get out of here one way or another. He had to find his son! There was a chance. There was still a chance!

He half dragged, half limped his way over to the lake, filling his canteen. Every motion caused a stabbing pain to shoot through his back and ankle, which he was dragging behind him, but he was mobile. If only a little bit. A little was better than not at all. A little meant there was still a possibility of surviving. He grabbed what was left of his pack, slinging it over his shoulder, and began to navigate his way through the mines. Painfully slowly let it be noted. He heard a sound and looked ahead. He saw Josh creeping there. He saw the wendigo take a turn, then come back to wait for him before starting down the tunnel again. Either Josh was leading him out or to his death, Mr. Washington deduced. Whichever it was, he was getting out dead or alive. He didn't even care anymore which it was, as long as he got out. He followed his son and his son continued on. Five minutes later, he saw light.

Mr. Washington stared at said light in disbelief, hardly able to believe what he was seeing. Light. It was light! He saw light. He could have wept, except light didn't mean survival. It just meant he would be out of the mineshaft and less protected from the elements. Still, it was light! His odds of being found had just gone up. He found himself limping faster towards the light. Moonlight, he noted. Oh he couldn't wait for the sun. Josh crept on, moving towards the outside. All at once there was a rumble and Mr. Washington froze, paling. No. No, no, no, no, no! This tunnel wasn't collapsing! He wasn't getting locked in here, no! Adrenaline immediately dulling his sense of pain, he made a break for the exit as fast as he could. Josh screeched at the collapsing mine in rage as his father limped passed him, then quickly followed.

Just then the tunnel came down. Josh shrieked in pain as the rocks crumbled around him, burying him beneath! "Josh!" Mr. Washington cried out in alarm, turning quickly just in time to see his son buried beneath. "No!" he exclaimed, throwing himself onto the pile of rubble and quickly beginning to dig the wendigo out despite common sense screaming at him that this was a stupid idea. Soon enough he uncovered his son's head. Josh was still. Breathing, yes, but unconscious. Mr. Washington didn't even know what to do or think. He just continued to uncover his child as quickly as he could.

All at once he felt the wendigo reach up, seizing him by the throat and dragging him near, growling darkly. Mr. Washington looked down into Josh's eyes. He couldn't even bring himself to feel scared anymore. What happened at this point would happen. He didn't move, just gazed into his son's eyes in tears. For a long moment, Josh watched him. Finally, the wendigo made a sound that sounded almost pitifully like a whimper. A voiceless plea… The wendigo released the man. Bob stared down at his child in disbelief. What happened next branded itself forever into Mr. Washington's mind. His son pointed at the sheath where his father's knife was. Then he pointed at himself, whimpered once more, and closed his eyes again.

Mr. Washington stared, eyes wide. What was that? Was that…? Oh god… That was it… Humanity! The final totem… It had worked. It had worked! But that was only half of the procedure. What was the other half again? It was… wait, the bag the stranger had handed him. His eyes widened and he dove into his sack, pulling it out quickly and opening it. Inside was a salve. Hands shaking, he took it out and gazed at it. He didn't know what to do with it, but he had to do something. Given it was a salve, he'd take an educated guess and say it needed to be spread out on the skin. Immediately he went back to uncovering Josh until he was completely free. Josh didn't move to go anywhere. Mr. Washington began to apply the salve to his son's body. Recalling the chant—or was it a prayer?—Dallas had taught him and got him to write down, he began to recite it over and over and over as he worked. The ranger had never told him what it meant, but he knew it was important and tied to the healing of the body.

He heard a hissing of flesh and stopped, watching in morbid fascination as Josh's skin began to bubble. Oh god… Josh suddenly jerked up and began to writhe, screeching in pain and violently thrashing about, though he couldn't manage to stand up for the pain he was in. The flesh continued to bubble and hiss until suddenly it stopped, but Mr. Washington sensed in his heart it wasn't done yet. Gently he rested the back of his hand against the wendigo's cheek. Immediately it tried to bite him. He quickly drew away. "Shh, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere," he promised. Josh stared at him a long time before whimpering again and curling in on himself. Mr. Washington continued to apply the salve. All the while Josh remained completely still…

UD

He watched in desperate hope as the salve and the chant did their work.. Every hour that passed, Josh began to look more and more human. More and more alive. Tearfully Mr. Washington observed as slowly his son changed. The wendigo shrieks became human cries of anguish and pain, became tears and sobbing and writhing. Still, though, there was the carnal edge. Still he couldn't be close to his child for long. It killed him to have to wait, to have to stay away, but it was what was best for them both at this point. Resting against a tree and bundling up, he closed his eyes to try and catch a bit of sleep while he waited.

When he awakened, he caught his breath. Josh wasn't moving. A moment of panic shot through him and he raced to his son. He feared the young man was dead and that it had been too late after all. He feared that the thing that was supposed to cure him had killed him. As he neared the boy, though, his son looked up at him. He froze. There was no more madness… Josh stared at him with human eyes. Or rather, as human as could be expected after this nightmare. Still traumatized, still terrified, still unbalanced, but his son was there. His son was really there… He felt like he was on another plain of existence watching this all play out like a scene in a movie.

Upon seeing his father, Josh suddenly broke down and began to freak out. Bob snapped out of his shock and raced to his side, falling next to him. "Josh! Joshua, stop it! Enough, stop!" he pled desperately, frantically trying to calm his out-of-control son. The words Josh spoke were barely audible through his sobs, but Bob knew full well that his boy was cursing him out. A chill ran down his spine, though, as suddenly his son became much more audible.

"Why didn't you just let me die?" he heard Josh demand. "Just kill me! Oh god, just kill me, please, please! Kill me!"

At that point, the man couldn't take it anymore. Immediately he grabbed his son up in his arms and broke down weeping over him and kissing him, hugging his child and clutching onto the boy as if Josh was all that kept him going and alive and sane and okay… And he was… He was… The action was so sudden and unexpected that Josh froze in surprise, panic and anger forgotten in lieu of the shock and disbelief at his father's sudden display of intense emotion that he felt in his soul had somehow surpassed even the emotional turmoil he'd just been going through. "You're alive. You're alive!" his father was saying.

"Dad?" Josh asked, voice hoarse and terrified. Seeing his father break down? It wasn't something he was used to or would ever be. It wasn't right. He realized with a jolt, suddenly, that he'd never once seen his father cry before. Not even after Beth and Hannah had… had disappeared… There had just been silence. Like everything that kept his father functioning had shut down and left only an emotionless husk. He'd never seen his father cry…

"I love you. I love you so damn much. Oh god I love you. I love you more than anything else in this world, do you hear me, Joshua? I love you! My baby, oh my baby boy. It's over now, sweetie, it's over," the man said, pulling back and cupping his shocked son's face in his hands, gently brushing his cheeks with his thumbs and wiping away tears Josh had stopped realizing he was shedding while he was trying to process his father's actions. "Your body is cleansed now. You're free. Never say those words again! Never ask me to kill you again! Without you I will die, don't you understand that?! Without you I will die!" Mr. Washington said, pulling his son close to his body and hugging him so tightly that Josh could hardly breathe. The young man couldn't bring himself to care. His father's arms tightly around him, a hand behind his head holding it close to his chest so that he could feel the man was there as acutely as he could feel his senses coming back to him and his life… He felt safe… For the first time in so long, he felt safe… He almost dared believe everything would be okay. He let himself break down, throwing his arms around his father and clutching tightly to him like he was a lifeline. FYI, he was.

Mr. Washington gently swayed his son from side to side, rocking him. He didn't know how the totems worked or what they'd done, for all he knew the wendigo may still be within his son somewhere and Josh had just gotten mastery over it and conquered that inner demon, but it didn't matter right now because here, in this moment, his son was in his arms and safe and warm and alive. He would ask for no more than that. He wouldn't press for answers from Dallas. As long as his boy was here, as long as he was alive and safe and no longer at risk for now, he didn't care. His baby was back in his arms… And nearly naked, the overjoyed father suddenly realized. Dammit! He needed to get his son clothed or else Josh would end up dying of hypothermia! Wouldn't that be the cruelest joke ever played?

Sniffing, he gently moved his son back and cupped the boy's cheek. "Let's get you dressed and warm again," he whispered to the young man. Josh looked like he wanted to be appalled and embarrassed but was too tired to. Instead, the boy just nodded, bowing his head. Mr. Washington removed his coat, giving it to Josh, then dug through his survival pack for extra clothing he usually carried. Soon enough Josh was dressed and in his father's arms again, weeping with the man.

A Day Later

One day later—thankfully, as it had given both Josh and his father time to calm down and start to function normally again instead of in a euphoric or manically depressed state—the search parties found father and son. Dallas headed it, and Dr. Alan was right there with him. In joyous relief they embraced Mr. Washington and his son despite Josh not knowing Dallas at all say for what his father had told him. Given the man's role in saving him, though, he surprisingly enough didn't find it overly weird that this stranger was embracing him. Or his psychiatrist, for that matter, though he'd never speak of it again.

The searchers marveled at how Josh had survived for so long. Of course, the three men and Josh knew why, but needless to say, no one was about to brag it up. Chances were the only ones who would ever actually believe it anyway were Josh's friends, but it had been agreed almost immediately that they wouldn't be informed of Josh's return for a few days yet. Josh needed time. So did his father. Time to come to terms with all of this and to… to come to terms with Melinda's death…

Remembering that his mother was gone made Josh start to tear up again. He felt his father slip an arm over his shoulders and draw him near. Josh shook his head then leaned against his parent, closing his eyes tightly and willing himself not to cry, though he sniffled. Mr. Washington tightened his grip around his son, gently resting his head on the boys.

"It's alright. You can cry, if you want to," he murmured to his son. And Josh did. The helicopter steadily covered the distance to civilization once more leaving Blackwood Mountain behind.

Months Later

Josh stood meekly by his mother's grave, silently weeping. He'd lost everyone now, he realized as his heart sank into his stomach. He'd lost his friends, he'd lost his sisters, he'd lost his mother… He'd lost everything… Just then, though, his father came up behind him and gently placed his hands on his child's shoulders. "I've lost everything," Josh hollowly said. His father was quiet, staring at the grave.

I brought him back, Melinda, do you see? I brought our baby back…

He knew, of course, that she didn't see, but it brought him some measure of comfort to know he had been able to give Josh the chance to say goodbye. "I wish… I wish I had died up there…" Josh said suddenly.

"As long as you're not lost to me too, I'll endure all this pain that's been heaped on us. I hope that I can be the same lifeline for you… I can't lose you too, son. I can't," Bob answered.

Visibly touched—how could he say he'd lost everything? His father had still been there. It was his parent who truly had lost it all for a while there—Josh nodded. "I can't promise I'll never try to take my own life," he said. Mental illness wasn't exactly an easy thing to navigate. His father visibly winced and closed his eyes. "But… for what it's worth, old man, I probably won't. I get the feeling you wouldn't allow that ever in, like, eternity," he added, cracking a weak smile that was reminiscent of when he'd been more carefree and happier. "Especially not after the nightmare on Blackwood."

"You got that damn right," his father deadpanned.

Josh chuckled, smiling at his father. "Let's go home, dad," he said.

Mr. Washington nodded and put an arm over his son's shoulders, squeezing him lightly before heading out of the cemetery and away from the grave of his wife and the memorials to his daughters. He would never stop thanking the powers that be that his son hadn't ended up another memorial to sit alongside his daughters and his wife… And him, who would have joined them not long after.

They walked out of the gates. No sooner had they done so when Josh stopped in place, eyes wide. There stood all of his friends standing there, looking at him in awe and disbelief, tears in their eyes. He swallowed as he stared at them. "Hey guys, long time no…" he finally began. He never got to finish. The next second he was tackled by the wall of his friends all weeping in happiness and smothering him with questions and hugs and kisses up to and including a good amount of bro kisses. Admittedly mostly from Chris, but Mike and Matt didn't go without planting a few on him too. He was unsure whether to be thankful or appalled, so he'd settle on thankful. He was kissable, he joked to himself. All rational thought fled his mind when he felt lips pressed against his own and realized with a jolt that those lips belonged to Sam. She drew back, leaving him gawking in shock. She sobbed again and threw herself into him once more, kissing him a second time almost desperately. He caught her in his arms this time and began to return the kiss. Maybe he hadn't lost everything after all. He looked over at the man and gave him a grateful and loving smile. Mr. Washington smiled gently as he watched his son's reunion with the others, and for the first time since losing Hannah and Beth, he felt at peace.

END