"Well, I think you better go with that nice man now, don't you?"

"But Ma, who knows if they're tellin' the truth? And you can't take care of the farm by yourself."

"Now look here Lucas. Long as I can recall you've been seein' things none of us can. And you ain't a fibber. Here's your chance to make somethin' of yerself, you better get on out there and do it! Not many sixteen year-olds get that chance. Here, take Bessy with ya. You take care of her and she'll take care of you. And don't you forget to clean her right proper now, ya hear?"

Why was he thinking about that now, didn't he have something else to do? It was hard to remember...he had been

"Congratulations on becoming a full hunter Mr. Drake. I can see here that you have no particular strength. You shall continue to be assigned to the Mist Hunter Division. You will be granted a small time for celebration. After you have eaten your dinner report back here to receive your next mission."

Some celebration that had been. Becky had gotten mad at him for not requesting a transfer to Moon and had broken up with him in public. He could still see clear as day the hurt in her eyes when she realized he hadn't even tried.

"They say I'm supposed to report to you for more details about the mission. The name's Romaya. Romaya Jones. But you can call me Mya."

She had that frightened look of a fresh hunter, one who hadn't been on a mission on her own. He could almost see her hand tremble as she held it out, trying to look defiant. Oh she'd be a spitfire for sure some day. He let out a chuckle, "Girly, I don't remember names until I've survived at least two missions with them. Ain't worth it to waste the brain capacity."

But I remembered. I remembered all of them. Hugh Johnson. Bridget Young. Carter Stevenson. Victor Dunn. None of them survived the first mission. Remembered the look on Carter's face as he reached out to me that last time before the scythe came down. Remember the creature that mimicked Bridget and made me shoot her like I was puttin' down a rabid skunk. I remembered. But what was I doing?

"You've been here awhile Mr. Drake."

"Yes sir."

"And in that time have you considered becoming...more than you are? Serving the cause on a higher level?"

"Sir, may I speak freely?"

"Of course, Mr. Drake."

"If you're talkin' about them Fear weapons I don't want none of it. I got Bessy. Bessy watches out for me just fine. I don't need one of them ******** messin' around with my mind. I don't like those monsters. I don't care if I'm at higher risk without a Fear weapon, I'll take my chances. It ain't for me."

"Is that your final answer Mr. Drake?"

"Yes sir."

That's an odd thing to be thinking about. Even weirder than before. The only thing important about that was when I left...when I left I ran into Becky. She looked tired, but she sounded so happy. Said she had taken time off to have a kid.

If I had tried a bit I could've been his dad...

"So how are things with you Lucas? Already passed that quarter of a century mark and still going strong I see."

"You know, same old same old. They really let you off duty for a kid?"

"Yeah, six months. My mom is raising him, I go visit every chance I get. What about you, have you found someone?"

He laughed. "I don't need anyone. Its best not to get involved in this line of work. You just never know what will happen."

She graced him with a sad smile. "I know that every day I go out there might be my last Lucas. But I also know every morning that I get up that its all worth it."

I didn't need that crap in my life. I didn't need anyone close. Guys like Cliff? Yeah. Have a laugh. Have a drink. Whatever move on to the next mission. Sleep with whoever, try not to mix work with pleasure. Learn the names of the ones who've been around for awhile.

"Who's Mercutio?”

He looked at his latest partner with confusion. “What?”

“You said the name in your sleep last night. Someone important?"

"Nah, must have been a better night than I remember," he answered with that same disarming chuckle.

Of course he knew who Mercutio was. Mercutio Simmons. They had had a mission together. He knew all of their names actually. He never forgot them. Oh he pretended when he saw them again, pretended he didn't care enough to remember their names. He'd seen too much to be affected by the youngin's. Seen too many die to care about them. But he had remembered them. Someone had to.

What if no one remembered him?

Why would he even think something like that?

"You two take care of each other."

He had tossed his prized box of specialty beef bandages, a box that had started as a joke but had saved his life more than a few times, at Mya and had ran. He would buy them some time. Let the two reconcile. It was all his fault they had fought in the first place. He'd distract that Horseman. It was a fool's errand, but those two had something real. It may be sappy and pathetic, but it was real. He could shelter that. He might give them that crucial moment that he needed.

He yelled and then fired into the darkness. Two shots. Reloaded. Baited the Horseman some more. Two shots. Reloaded. Heard the screams back where the others were. Two shots. Reloaded as he ran back toward the screams. More screams filled the air. Was that...was that Mya's voice?

Wings beating the air behind him and then he was scooped up. For one horrible moment he could see the young couple sprawled out, lifeless. He had failed. His "sacrifice" had been in vain. He had tried to help the youngin's, give them just a minute more together. Even that Julien Bond fellow. They had died before him. He didn't have time to dwell on it though as the bone in his left arm popped out of the socket and then the flesh began to rip...

He opened his eyes in the darkness. So that was what he was supposed to remember. He was dying. Alone. He'd possibly ruined a relationship, failed his duty, failed to set up the barrier, had been taken into the air and torn apart limb by limb.

But...it was finally over. Tears began to flow from ducts he had long since thought had been closed for good. He had done what he could and now he could finally rest. It was finished. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and everything just started slipping away.

Dammit, I should have eaten that last cube of Jello.