Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Beta'd by WithinTheHeart :)

Chapter One

Laura had been Genim's first friend.

He'd been six when they first met, and ridiculously, painfully, shy despite his ADHD which made it impossible for him to keep still for more than a few minutes at a time. He couldn't keep still or focus to save his life, and he would just freeze up like a startled deer, his eyes wide with panic and embarrassment bringing a pink flush to his cheeks, when attention was shifted to him.

So when he found himself suddenly standing alone in the middle of the supermarket, his mama nowhere in sight, Genim planted himself on the floor and tried not to burst into tears like he actually really wanted to.

"You okay there?"

His head jerked upwards from his lap at the unexpected voice and he roughly wiped at the tears that were making his eyes water, blinking both curiously and warily at the stranger in front of him.

Laura had been thirteen at the time and, although she was only halfway through puberty – an awful gangly stage, Genim later discovered – he remembered thinking she was amazingly pretty. Long, wavy brown hair was tucked under a woollen hat and her green eyes peered at him concerned. Her face was soft and trusting. She didn't reach out and touch him, although he could tell she wanted to. It was a maternal instinct, he decided later on when he saw her interacting with her baby sister, Casey, the first time he'd gone to the Hale house.

He sniffed loudly, and didn't answer, instead continuing to watch her closely.

"Are you lost?" she tried again.

Hesitantly, Genim nodded. "I was here with my mama, but I don't know where she's gone…"

"Well, um, do you want me to help you find her?" she offered with what seemed to be a comforting smile, "I'm a good tracker."

"…You mean, like a spy?"

She laughed as if that was the funniest thing in the world, and he tilted his head, perplexed. "Yeah, like a spy," she humoured, "I have all the gadgets."

She held out her hand and, after a moment, he placed his own in hers. He smiled shyly up at her and his free hand tugged nervously on the end of his batman shirt.

"I'm Laura Hale, what's your name?"

"Genim Stilinski, with a silent 'g'," he responded with a rehearsed reply.

"Hmm…I think I'll call you Gem," Laura mused, "Is that okay?"

Genim nodded quickly and couldn't keep the slight skip from his step. After all, he knew well enough from books that his daddy read to him and the television shows that he watched with his mama after school, that only friends and family gave you nicknames. And at that point, it never occurred to him that he had only just met Laura, or that she was so much older than him. All he cared about was he had a friend; something he proclaimed loudly and happily when Laura, true to her word, led him easily back to his slightly hysterical mother.

Laura had smiled bashfully and waved off the woman's thanks, twisting a lock of hair around her finger. And, when Genim had asked Laura whether she'd be able to play with him again, she had looked surprised yet pleased by the approval, and his mama had smiled thoughtfully and stated that "something could be arranged".

Three days later, Laura Hale was officially his babysitter.

Genim met Scott when he was eight.

He and his mum had moved to Beacon Hills from Chicago when his parents got divorced, and much to Genim's delight, the boy was just as social awkward as he was. The new boy stood in front of the class, hands clutching at the straps of his Spiderman backpack, looking lost and nervous about the day ahead, Genim had immediately known they would be friends.

He'd given Scott an encouraging smile over the head of Greenberg, and when they had to get into small groups, he had helped Scott with the answers when he looked stressed, but it wasn't until they had both fallen asleep in maths class and were forced into detention by a disgruntled Mr Ryman, that their friendship was cemented.

Genim told Laura all about Scott that night when she came over.

"-Oh, and did I tell you he likes comic books as well? Of course, he likes Superman more than Batman, but I can sort that out in time," he assured quickly, bouncing in place excitedly.

Laura laughed and gently swotted his shoulder. "Keep still," she chided, "I'm almost done."

Genim pouted heavily and grumbled under his breath, arms folded across his chest in a silent show of defiance. To his credit, he did manage to keep still until Laura patted him on the top of his head, and cheerfully announced, "You can go look in the mirror now."

He scrambled to his feet and approached the mirror. He scowled darkly. "Pigtails? Really?"

"You're lucky I left the ribbons at home," Laura shot back, amused, "Besides, they suit you."

"I look like a girl," Genim objected.

"Yup, but a very pretty girl," she stated, as if that would somehow console him. He tugged at the end of the plaits and yelped in surprise when Laura cuffed him again, piercing him with a sharp look.

"Don't touch," she ordered firmly, "Or I'm putting The Pictures on posters across the town."

Genim gaped. "You wouldn't dare…"

Laura smirked. "Just try me kiddo."

Later that night, when they were curled up on the sofa and watching a marathon of Scooby Doo cartoons that his dad had brought him on video for his birthday last month; Laura brushed strands of long hair from his forehead and pressed a motherly kiss to the revealed skin.

Genim inclined his head upward, eyebrows furrowed in silent question, and she smiled warmly, hugging him just that little bit closer to him. "I'm glad you met Scott, Gem," she whispered softly into the silence.

He beamed widely.

So Laura is a werewolf, yep, that…that totally makes sense…

Genim knew he shouldn't have gone into the woods that night, on full moon of all times. It was just common sense, not to mention both his dad and Laura had warned him against it, but of course, he had thought he knew better than them all. Besides, he liked the woods. His mama liked the woods. It was just this wide space that screamed freedom that was far away from the noises of the town and gave you a chance to think. The woods on the outskirts of Beacon Hills had always been the one place where he could finally breathe, and the trees had never betrayed him before.

Until then, at least.

They had cornered him, running a perimeter around him by rustling leaves and snapping twigs beneath their feet, all of which allowed the panic to well up inside of him and take over to lead him blindly through the trees.

And then, suddenly, they were in front of him, like they had just stepped out of the trunks of the trees that were now on either side of their formation. There were six of them, six silhouettes; one crouched low to the ground – the youngest, he later found out, who had a harder time controlling the wolf, especially on full moon – while the others were standing up straight, holding themselves in a threatening manner, designed to make them appear larger to an enemy. And right now, that enemy was him.

Genim's heart pounded loudly against his rib cage, the sound of blood pulsing loudly in his ears numbing his senses and made it hard to breathe properly. One, he wasn't sure which, growled and he stood a stuttered step backwards out of pure reflex.

Then one of the youngest, Logan, Laura's youngest brother, stepped into the light, the sound of his hands and feet against the crunchy autumn leaves practically nonexistent. The moonlight broke through the trees and highlighted his facial features, morphed into something not quite animal, not quite man. Light brown hair fell in tangled and stretched into a pair of matching sideburns that took up most of his cheek and jaw. His eyes flashed yellow, and his fangs poked through curled lips when he sniffed the air.

There was a low noise behind him, a warning, one of the adults, he guessed later, from behind the crouched boy, and Logan let out a frustrated whine. In fact, for a moment, it looked as if he wanted nothing more than to jump at Genim and rip his throat out. That thought made him swallow and hunch his shoulders protectively, as if that would be able to stop an attack should it arise.

Logan bent to the ground again, his head hovering just inches about the ground, and Genim recognised the movement as an offensive possession that his Grandma's Labrador used to make before he tackled an unsuspecting visitor to the ground. Something told him that it wasn't a tongue bath that this, this, whatever it was, wanted to give him.

"You shouldn't be in the woods, not at this at this time of night," a voice, gravelled, told him, "Don't you know it's the full moon?"

"Uh, um, y-yes, I know," Genim stammered out an answer, "I just, um-"

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" the voice inquired again.

He flushed in embarrassment. "Uh, um, y-yes, I just – well, I needed some time to think and-"he paused for a moment as the reality of the situation hit him. It was the woods. It was public land, you couldn't own it – he remembered his father complaining about it because of all the calls he gets from stupid teenagers who have gotten lost within the maze or something equally as ignorant. So, technically, he had every right to be here. He straightened his back, narrowed his gaze and tried to give off a dangerous persona; although he's sure he failed. "And what does it matter to you? This is public land; I can be here if I want. And besides, you were the ones that were stalking me! I mean, how creepy is that? My dad's the new Sheriff and I could get you all arrested. What the heck dude? And really, don't even get me started on your choice of clothes – you do realise that Halloween isn't until next weekend right? And another thing-"

There was a laugh. "You know what, I like this kid," he admitted, with a toothy grin that Genim could see from where he was standing.

"Are you sure I can't just rip his throat out?" Another voice, probably a few years older than him, whined (although he's sure that Derek could deny that if he ever mentioned it), "At least then he might stop talking."

"Derek," another, more authoritive, voice scolded.

"Uh, clearly this is a family dispute, so I'm just going to-"Genim took a step backwards. Logan growled warning and he seized up, "Okay then, I'm not leaving. That's fine. I, uh, I could play mediator? But you need to get me home by at least midnight, because, you know, I am a growing boy and I need at least seven hours sleep before I have to get up for school tomorrow."

The crouched boy took another step closer, baring his teeth menacingly, and Genim couldn't stop the babble that escaped his mouth, "Or I could stay for as long as you want me to, because you know, I don't want to anger the crazy kid that acting like a wolf – god, this isn't some kind of cult thing that I've wandered into right? I mean, you guys aren't going to kill me and bury my body in the woods where no one would ever find it – oh, god, you are, aren't you? You're going to kill me, that's not cool man, really, and ark!"

Logan had lunged at him, claws poised for attack, saliva dripping from his elongated canines, and his eyes glowed eerily in the darkness. Instinctively, Genim reared back and tried to run away, but his legs didn't cooperate and he found himself on his backside, scrambling backwards along the leaves. His back hit painfully against the trunk of an oak tree and, after a moment of confusion as to way he wasn't moving anywhere, he closed his eyes and tensed in anticipation for the collision…

…which never came?

Cautiously, he cracked one eye open and saw Logan on his back, held in place beneath another figure, more feminine this time, who snapped her jaw warningly at his neck. The boy whined his submission and bared his neck. She held him there for a moment, as if needing to be sure he got the message, before releasing her hold and watching him scurry back towards the rest of the strange group of people. Then she tilted her head towards him, just slightly, enough that she could see him but he couldn't see her clearly – it was enough though. He'd spent so much time which her, how could he not recognise her?

"…Laura?" he breathed out questioningly.

She flinched at the sound of her name and turned to face him properly. He watched in – he didn't know what, amazement, awe, fear, all of them combined – as her face slowly melted from the distorted animal impression to her normal, softer face that now stared down at him sadly. She stuffed her hands deep into her coat pockets.

"Hey Gem," she whispered her greeting uncomfortably.

And Genim responded in the way that most people did when they found their babysitter/best friend/oldest friend was a werewolf: he fainted.

When he came around again, he was in his room, tucked under the blankets in his bed, and Laura was perched on his desk chair, her hands locked in her lap. He blinked at her for a moment.

"You're a werewolf," he blurted out.

She nodded. "Yes."

"How can you be so relaxed about this?" Genim yelped, sitting up and his hands waved frantically in front of him, "You're a werewolf!"

"Yes, Gem, I know that," Laura quirked a smile at him, "I was born like this."

"And your family?"

"Mostly wolves, some humans – it's like the dominant gene that decides whether you will have brown hair or green eyes. My family line has one that determines whether you're a werewolf or not," she tried to explain as simply as she could.

"…So those guys in the woods?"

"My family, well, some of them. My dad, James, and my uncles, Peter and David; and Derek and Logan, my younger brothers, and me – it was Logan's first full moon so we were there to let him run, make sure he doesn't get into the town or hurt anybody – and then you showed up with your ramblings," she laughed slightly, "Even in the face of danger, you still can't keep your mouth shut."

"It's a nervous tick," he protested, watching the girl across from him closely. She was staring into her lap, looking lost in thought, and he bit his bottom lip as he debated what to do. After a few seconds deliberation, he reached out to touch her hand, grasping it tightly. "Sorry I didn't listen to you."

She exhaled heavily through her nose. "Good, you should be, you could have been killed Genim and I…I don't want to see you hurt, okay? So if I tell you not to go into the woods on full moon, don't go into the woods on full moon."

"Promise," he held up three fingers.

"My mum's going to want to speak to you," Laura finally told him, "She's our alpha. She kind of…protects us, takes care of us; keeps us in line. She's going to want to make sure you can keep this a secret."

"Who would believe me if I told them?" Genim questioned ludicrously.

"You'd be surprised," she replied wirily.

"Laura," he asked when she made to leave through the open window, her leg already hanging over the window pane, "If I hadn't been out in the woods tonight, if your little brother hadn't tried to eat me – something I will be getting compensation for, I can promise you that – would you…" he faltered for a moment, "…would you have told me the truth? About what you are?"

She looked thoughtful. "…I don't know, maybe," she finally admitted, "We're not really supposed to tell anyone. There are some bad people out there and we need to protect the pack."

"You can trust me," Genim stated honestly.

"I know I can, I do," Laura told him firmly, leaving no room for argument, "If you ever doubt me, never doubt that: I trust you."

His mama had been sick for awhile. Genim had memories as a child of his mother lying weak in her bed, smiling tiredly down at him, or standing at the medicine cabinet and taking her cocktail of drugs, but it was far and few between and he'd never really known anything different. He wasn't told about the cancer until it became too serious to ignore.

She isn't recovering; his dad said sadly, the doctors don't know how long she's got left.

At the time, he didn't think he really understood exactly what was making his mama grow weaker, lose her blond curls in large clumps; what had caused her to collapse on her way out of the library and forced an early admittance to the hospital. It was around that time that his research habit developed, he guessed. Desperately searching for a cure, someway to make her better, he supposed it became a default mechanism for when things go wrong.

Of course, Genim didn't spend his whole time researching. He didn't want to waste anytime with her. He'd even tried to get out of school – "I'm there for six hours a day, for five days, mama, I'd rather spend it with you" – but, of course, his mama had refused, reminding how important a real education was. She hadn't had the best one growing up, had learnt most of what she knew from the books she read, and she wanted him to be the best he could be.

So, he went to school and when he came home, he spent all the moments he could with her. He watched Gilmore Girls and Smallville on repeat with her, because it had always been their thing. He got his mama to teach him how to cook her best dishes, so that he could treat her weekly to treats of cakes and risotto and, her particular favourite, beef casserole. He took a razor to his hair as her own started to fall out, not wanting her to feel alone. She'd cried when she saw him and held onto him for the rest of the evening, pressing kisses against his hair line. When his dad got home from work, he paused in the doorway to survey them both and a watery smile crossed his face.

Later, after his mama had gone to bed, drowsy from her medicine, his dad had come into his room, run his hand over his buzz cut and whispered how much he loved him, appreciated everything you do, especially now – and doing that for your mama, that's amazing son. Thank you…

Genim didn't see Laura or the Hale family much during that time, but every time he saw one of them at school or on the street, they'd just smile and wave, inquire how his mama was doing and Amelia, Laura's mother, had told him that she was going to bring over some raspberry and white chocolate muffins – "Laura said that your mama likes them, right?"

And then, the night she died, peacefully in her sleep (a small virtue, he remembered thinking bitterly), they were there, surrounding him and his father, hugging them close, soaking in their tears and ultimately being the rock neither could be for each other.

The funeral was three days later. His dad had helped him with his tie, wrapping the yellow silk ("it was mama's favourite colour," he explained when questioned) around his hands, and offered him a strained smile. It had been difficult on his father, he knew, more so because his parents always been with each other – and now they weren't. That one look told it all – how much he hurt, how much he was suffering under the weight of it all, how much he didn't want to break down because he needed to be strong for his son, just how Eleanor would have wanted it.

"Are you ready to go Genim?" his dad questioned quietly.

"Don't call me that," he ordered sharply. He couldn't – it was her name for him, she called him that, and he couldn't hear it without his heart tightening and a sob swelling up in his throat.

The Sheriff looked surprised, blinking at the unexpected outburst, and looked uncertain of how to proceed. He watched as his son, his little boy who suddenly didn't look so little anymore, clench his hands into fists.

"I can't – she –"he stuttered through the words and trailed off into a heavy sigh, "Stiles. Call me Stiles."

Stiles, the Abominable Snowman – his favourite story character from his childhood. The Sheriff didn't question it.

The Hale family came to offer their condolences and join the rest of the town in the final goodbye of Eleanor Stilinski. He hadn't expected them to come – maybe Laura and Amelia, who had grown close with his mama over the last few years, but they were all there. Even Selena, heavily pregnant, was here, waddling over the grass with the help of her husband, David, and her brother, James, Laura's father.

Laura had rushed at him as soon as she saw him, dragging him into one of her bruising hugs that he held onto desperately. He buried his face in her shoulder, inhaling her smell, like his mama's but different; and clutched at the lapels of her raincoat tightly. She muttered her sorrows into his hair, her hot breath warming the skin beneath and making him shiver, and when he told her about the name change, she'd let out a small laugh, tinged with her tears, and said, "Well, you'll always be Gem to me, Stiles."

Laura was the constant in his life; his secondary mother figure even if she was only a few years older than him, and only see could get away with calling him that.

Amelia had yanked him into a hug – Stiles knew where Laura had inherited those from – before proceeding to fuss about his father, a job he had told himself he would need to take up soon enough, just his mama had asked him to. Serena had pecked him on the cheek and James, Peter and David had squeezed his shoulder comfortingly, all with sad smiles on their faces; Logan muttered an awkward, "I'm sorry for your loss", as if he knew that wouldn't make anything better, and fist bumped him, something that had become a welcomed ritual whenever they saw each other; even baby Belle, Peter's baby girl, patted him on the cheeks with her little pudgy hand, making sympathic noises.

And Derek…well, he was the one that surprised Stiles the most. When they'd met properly, inside the Hale house at a family dinner with all the overhead lights turned to their brightest, he hadn't seemed particularly…hospitable. Laura had said he'd had a fight with his secret girlfriend, but Stiles was almost certain the man was just naturally a sour wolf. But now, it was as if he were a completely different person.

He nodded at him in greeting in a – dare he say it – shy fashion, and placed his hand on the crown of his head. There was a look of concentration of his face as he rubbed the pads of his fingers against his scalp, something that Stiles couldn't help but lean into. The hand left a tingling trace as it trailed along the curve of his face, around the shell of his ear and under his jaw before it was suddenly gone. He stood at a distance, his hands buried firmly in his pockets, and he kept his gaze averted.

At the time, he wasn't entirely sure what that had meant. All he knew is that some of the ache in his chest had lifted, if only enough that he felt he could breath easier.

Stiles didn't get the chance to question what had just happened. Serena had turned to him with a small smile and asked for his assistance down to the burial sight. He'd hesitated for a moment before giving her a tight smile and agreeing. He glanced behind him quickly as he followed the procession, just in time to see Logan sniggering behind his hand as James muttered something harsh and serious at a contrite looking Derek.

He broke down during the service. He'd tried to stay strong, to swallow the lump in his throat and keep the tears at bay – because they were private, his emotions, and he wasn't prepared for the whole town to see his pain so obviously – but then they'd played her favourite song – Save The Last Dance, the song that played when his parents had first met at a middle school dance, the song that his mama twirled around the kitchen to, hummed to herself as she cooked, sung to him when he was sick or scared – and it was as if a dam had burst inside his head,

It was the finality of it all that really hurt him; the knowledge that his mama was well and truly gone. He'd never see her smile again, would never hear her voice or feel her arms around him. She was gone, to a better place maybe, and he and his father were stuck here, on Earth, left to continue with live without her, as if they weren't dying inside. Their family was fractured, and Stiles didn't know what to do.

He wasn't even aware he was crying until his father's arms wrapped around him. Gruff, broken words of comfort were whispered in his ears; words that barely sunk into his wellbeing, that he couldn't believe; that he desperately wished he could.

Stiles let out a choked sob and tightened his grasp on his father's suit jacket.

And then the Hale fire happened.

Stiles had found out from school. In a town like Beacon Hills, news travelled fast, and, having been seen with different members of the Hale family, his classmates would approach him, ask him whether he had heard. He wanted to leave school early, had demanded and begged and pleaded with his dad before he finally took mercy on him and agreed to pick him up. It was unorthodox really, for the Sheriff to take his son to a crime scene, but no one really questioned it.

The smoke could be seen from miles and, when they finally arrived, the fire department were still trying desperately to put the last remains of the fire out. What was usually a tranquil place, surrounded by wilderness, was now overwhelmed with the presence of police cars and ambulances and fire engines; civilians who had heard and wanted to see the damage, something that made Stiles sick to his stomach; walkie-talkies and officers talking amongst one another, the flashing blue and red lights on top of the ambulances that cast an unnatural light on the shell of what had once been a beautiful and vibrant house.

Laura was sitting at the end of the one of the ambulances, clutching tightly at an orange shock blanket; Derek beside her, pointedly refusing the blanket, even though the paramedics insisted, to the point where Stiles was sure the man would wolf out.

Stiles called out to them and Laura looked up at him, so lost and broken that it made him want to cry. But he didn't. Instead, he held onto Laura when she threw herself at him, hugging him tightly, and offered her the comfort she desperately needed. It horrified him to see her like that – Laura Hale, usually so strong, was vulnerable and distraught in his arms. Her hot tears seared the crook of his neck and she shook violently.

"T-they're gone…a-all…every, everyone," she hiccupped out through her cries, "t-the fire, it…I can't…"

Stiles shushed her gently, rocking gently, letting her weep into his shirt. He met Derek's gaze over her head and stared forlorn. He looked so much younger now, helpless and lost, but determined to hold it all together. Vaguely, he wondered whether this is what he looked like at his mama's funeral. It was times like this when he wished his arms were longer – and that Derek didn't scare him as much as he did – so he could pull them both into an embrace and protect them both from what had happened to their family.

Later on, his dad told him what had happened. The Hale house had caught on fire, although the origins of the start of the blaze were unclear – the Sheriff himself suspected foul play but didn't have any evidence to prove it. Eleven members of the family had been in the house that day – James and Amelia with Logan, who had taken the day off because it was too close to full moon and he couldn't control his instincts, and six year old Lorena; David and Selena with 14 year old Damien, ten year old Charlotte and the new born Summer, only a few weeks old; Peter and Belle.

Nine bodies had been found in the basement, trapped and unable to escape when the fire consumed their home. Peter was found in the living room, the only survivor of the horrors, with severe third degree burns over 80% of his body and had been taken to Beacon Hills hospital in the hope of saving him – "he'd fallen into a coma, and the doctor's don't know whether he'll wake up," his dad told him. Belle was still unaccounted for, but the most likely outcomes were her charred remains were lost in the blackened house.

Laura and Derek had been given a room at the Sheriff's house, both Stilinski men refusing to let them stay anywhere else. The two ended up in Stiles' room, in his bed, their own makeshift pack pile under the covers as clung to each other for comfort and silently grieved for their loss. No one could sleep. Nightmares of fire and burning and screaming were just too much to bear, and, for the first time, Derek broke down and let the tears fall.

It was a week later when Laura announced that she and Derek were leaving Beacon Hills. Stiles remembered the fear that hit him at the thought of her leaving him – everybody leaving; his mama, the Hale family, now Laura, he couldn't – and the look must have shown on his face. She reached out to hold his hand in herself and squeezed it comfortingly, offering him a sad smile which he guessed was supposed to be encouraging.

"I don't want to leave," she admitted, "Really I don't-"

"Then why are you?" Stiles demanded an answer. Why are you leaving me?

"We have to Stiles, you don't…" Laura shook her head, "I'm not going to belittle you by letting you that you wouldn't understand, especially when I don't understand most of it myself. But I'm the alpha now, my mother's power was passed onto me, and I need to protect what's left of my pack. It's not…it's just not safe here for me or Derek in Beacon Hills anymore."

"How do you know? And if you are in danger, dad's the Sheriff, he can protect you and then you can both stay," he tried bargaining.

"I'm sorry, but this is really out of your father's jurisdiction…"

"So it has something to do with werewolves then…"

"I'm a new alpha, and that's going to draw attention from other people, terrible people; werewolf and human, and I…I can't lose anyone else, you understand that right?" Laura asked, almost pleading with him.

He nodded mutely and clung to her hand tighter.

"If I could take you with me, I would," she told him, "But I can't. You have your dad and I know you won't leave him."

"…When are you leaving?" Stiles inquired quietly.

"In two days time. There' still a lot to sort out after the…" she faltered around the word before continuing.

"Where will you go?"

"New York, maybe, there's a pack up there that my parents were friendly with, at least then we'd be safe," Laura explained, "But we'll keep in touch. Emails and phone calls and video chats, b-because you're important to me Gem and I don't want you to forget me."

"I could never forget you," he assured, shuffling closer so he could hug her around her waist, taking in and memorising her being into his subconscious.

Thursday morning, they packed up their very few belongings – there wasn't much that was salvable after the fire – in an old ford that Melissa McCall had offered them when she found out what they were planning, and left Beacon Hills and all its terrible memories behind.

Thursday morning, Stiles watched the car disappear down his street and fought against the tears that welled in his eyes, knowing now that he had lost his oldest friend, just as he had lost nearly everyone else.

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