Smoke and Fire

[lionofthelight]

Teldrassil Burns!

That’s how it had all begun, at least for Zandros Alter. A voice shouting in the night, waking the manor despite the hour.

Teldrassil burns.

Days had passed, and it was all that could pass the lips of each dour face he met. A gift from the dragons, the last great stronghold of the Night Elves, a place said to be blessed by the so-called Goddess Elune, burned. Every face was fallen. After a tenuous peace, once again achieved only by the near-destruction of their world, it was war again. The Horde demanded blood. The dead, more of their own.

In just a day Stormwind's streets were over-full with the homeless, their clothes and their faces still soot-stained and bloodied. Refugees who could escape by portal and – days later – by hippogryph or boat slept in the streets without possessions or direction. They crowded the walkways, some searching for their loved ones, some resigned to their loss. The spiritually and physically wounded blocked the shops and alleyways and stared sightlessly at the people who passed.

Those who had not lost hope rallied for war. They donned their armor and their weapons, and those who had lost their own found replacements from the blacksmiths who toiled at their forges. It was a sweltering summer, and hotter and louder in the Dwarven district than Zandros had ever felt or heard. The whole city radiated like a furnace and screamed with the pounding of hammer on metal. He passed veterans ten lifetimes older than himself and felt the hated in their scarred and twisted faces as strongly as if it were directed at him.

For the first time in a decade, Zandros Alter felt unsafe in his own city.

Perhaps because he knew. He knew that despite it all, there would be consequences. For Sylvanas. For the Horde. Perhaps even for him. Evil had to be met, battled, and bested. He knew that. But for the first time in his life, he wished he could reject it.

He had rejected his duties as an officer, after all. He had resigned his title and returned fully to civilian life, where he had, most vexingly, been forced to continue the fight. And hadn’t he just won? Hadn’t he done what he had to do, won what he had to win?

And now this. This summons.

Zandros crushed the paper in his fist and shouldered his way, increasingly angry, through group after group of the righteous warriors of Elune. The Grand Marshal’s office wasn’t far, but it would take another half hour of sweating in the summer heat, pushing past the vengeful and the lost only to find himself on the wrong end of a long line of men and women waiting for their chance to see the commander. He didn’t frequently wish for the foreign luxuries of the world of his family-to-be, but he couldn’t count the times he wished for air conditioning in the hours that followed.

Finally, his moment came to meet the Grand Marshall.

He entered the office with the fury of the elves, gripping his summons like they held their glaives.

And he left with silence of the lost ones.

Comments

[lionofthelight]

He needed another day to pass before he returned to the Durants. A day of denial, reflection, and restlessness. A week in total since he’d seen them last. ‘Bad news’ was all he had relayed when it began.

Now he wishes he could take it back.

If he hadn’t acknowledged it, would things have been different? Would he be here now, standing in Viatorus' Nexus study, his throat tight as he looked from his fiancee to his future family-in-law? Would there really be bad news?

"I want to apologize to you all," he begins, "For leaving so abruptly, and at such an unfortunate time, and... Moreover, with so little said. But things have gone... quite badly, on Azeroth. This is the worst I have known it since my childhood. And I suspect..."

He presses his lips together.

"Rather, I know there will be a battle the likes of which we have not seen in a generation. I know, because I am being called to it."

[heirtothearcane]

The three Durants are tense when Zandros meets them. Things haven't really settled since they were last all together. As per usual, Isidor keeps her attention on the matter at hand -one Zandros- with a stern frown. While Runa looks between the paladin, her sister-in-law, and her anxious husband trying to keep his head down. His news, however, is so foreign that none of them really know how to react to it. Isidor's frown deepens, and Runa's dismay turns solely onto Zandros, and even Viatorus looks worried for his future brother-in-law.

"What exactly does that mean?" Isidor's tone is harsh, but not entirely unkind. "Will you have to leave? Will you stay in the outposts and strategise, or...?"

"D-Do you have to fight?" Viatorus finishes quietly.

[lionofthelight]

Isidor's question is the harder of the two. What, exactly, he may be able to escape at this moment in time isn't something he can readily answer. But Viatorus? He looks to his future brother and presses his lips together.

"I believe there will be no avoiding it."

If only he could.

"In either case, whatever my role, I cannot refuse the call to action. The Kingdom lost a staggering number of its best in the war against the Legion, while the Forsaken have replenished themselves from our losses. The military might of the Horde dwarfs the Alliance, depleted of forces as it is. Knowing this, they struck against us. They've burned the World Tree Teldrassil, and with it thousands of those who lived in the city in its boughs. Civilians -- children, even -- died unspeakable deaths. It was a crime that could not go unanswered.

"The Alliance is rallying more than its able-bodied forces. My father has been called to war, and, despite his age and our protestations, he has chosen to answer. For dire want of mages, and making no distinction between a scholar and a soldier, the crown has also called my sister."

He runs his silk-gloved hand through his hair and looks to the wall to keep his eyes off the Durants.

"If she were to refuse the call the Kingdom would seize my family's holdings to pay down our so-called debt. But as her brother and a man of the Light I cannot allow her to lose her life or her soul to the Forsaken. For that reason, and I hope you will find it in yourselves to forgive me, I gave myself in her stead.

"I am expected on a ship in two days' time. We set sail for the North, where we will take our fight directly to Sylvanas. The King hopes to finally realize that great and burning dream of all human hearts: To retake Lordaeron. For the Alliance."

[heirtothedragonsfire]

Silence rings through the room. This is so foreign, so unbelievable to all of them that none of them know how to react.

Viatorus, eyes wide in shock, finally manages, "Is there anything we can do?"

Runa's tries to cover her fallen expression with a hand over her mouth, doing her best not to nibble at her nails. She glances over to Isidor, but the elder Durant has her gaze cast to one side in thought.

If she married Zandros, Isidor wonders, would she be called to war too? Would her children? They would never go, of course. She would never allow it. Stormwind- Azeroth could burn before any children of hers would be dragged into war. And yet, that protectiveness doesn't extend to Zandros, she realises. Her breath catches in her throat.

Harrowheart.

If a noble like Zandros is getting called to war then Harrowheart is, too. He probably already has been called. What if he's gone already? But after the last time they met... Everything is so complicated...

"Excuse me," she croaks and heads into the spare room, head down and one hand on her stomach. As if that might settle it somehow.

[lionofthelight]

Of all the people to become emotional over this, Isidor was the last Zandros expected. Viatorus' surprise and Runa's worry are only natural, but to watch Isidor hurry off... It's unnatural, to say the least.

He looks to where she'd disappeared, spends a second fretting in the lingering silence, and finally turns his attention back to the young couple.

"Viatorus," he begins. "Runa. You've nothing to fret about. The Light will guide me home safely to my new family in the same way that it brought me into your lives. Just as it guided me home from Northrend. I have faced worse evils than the Horde in my time and come out of it alive."

He finds in himself a smile and tries to warm them both with it.

"I was brought into your lives for a reason, that much I believe. And it was not to leave it in war.

"As to what you both might do? I am destined for Lordaeron, that much cannot be denied. But I would ask that... Though you are the Scholar and the Scholar's Patron... You look out for dear Isidor. In my absence I am sure her life will be in turmoil. She will need you both to help her, though I am certain she will neither ask it aloud nor thank you in so many words."

[heirtothearcane]

It's on the tip of his tongue to ask Zandros if that's the truth: Does Isidor love him enough to be distraught by his absence? The hurt lingering in his bones isn't at the paladin, though, and he keeps his thoughts to himself. Instead he nods. "We'll help her as much as we can."

Runa sets a hand on Zandros' arm with a determined frown. "Stay here for a few minutes. Let me get you a protective charm."

She doesn't wait for an answer, letting go to grab her PINpoint and vanish in the blink of an eye. Zandros and Viatorus are left alone in the quiet apartment.

Finally Viatorus, his voice barely more than a whisper, says, "I know you need to protect your family, but I wish you didn't need to go. I wish there was a way I could stop this for you. Is there really nothing any of us can do?"

[lionofthelight]

Now out of sight of Runa and Isidor both, Zandros allows his facade to crack. He wipes his hand across his forehead. He screws his eyes shut, remains silent for a long while, and finally sighs.

"I sincerely wish there was, but I see no escape from this duty. To deny the call and bring my family here, or to your world, would be to surrender our holdings on Azeroth. Without our material means, what use would your family have of me? Surely Lady Durant and the Archon would find a worthy replacement. But if I go to war..."

His face reddens. He can't stop fidgeting--running his hands through his hair, adjusting his collar, redoing the buttons of his jacket.

"Were I to confide in you a fear and mark of shame, could I trust you to keep my secret? From your fiancee, your sister, your family all?"

[heirtothearcane]

"I'm not very good at keeping secrets," Viatorus admits softly. Upon consideration he continues his admission with, "Though I'm not really speaking much with Isidor right now, and my family and I never really spoke much..."

Forcing a wavering smile, he looks up at Zandros again, "But I'm sure it's not that bad. I can't imagine how many things you're worried about right now. It's completely normal, I'm sure of it. No one could judge you for it. Certainly not me."

[lionofthelight]

Viatorus' honesty doesn't exactly inspire confidence. Zandros' face pinches like he's holding back being ill, and then he tries for a queasy smile.

"Perhaps some things are best left unsaid after all. I would not want you to think less of me if I do not return. Rather, let me ask you a favor in the event that I do."

He rubs his hand across his neck and takes in a slow, deep breath. "If I am destined to die in this war against the Forsaken... And if they, or the Knights of the Ebon Blade bring my body back into a cursed existence... And if I haven't the sense of self to end my own suffering... Promise me one of you will? Do not doubt in the moment, no matter what I say or do. It is what my real self would want. That is how you may help me."

[heirtothearcane]

Seeing disappointment is all too common for Viatorus, so his queasy smile back doesn't look entirely different from his standard nervous one. It becomes a little more pronounced, however, at Zandros' request and, at the risk of further disappointing his future brother-in-law, he begins to fidget.

"U-Um... Well. I-I-I can make sure i-it's done. I just... I couldn't do it. Not me. Someone else. B-But not me."

[lionofthelight]

"You are a soft soul, aren't you? Someday you will learn that sometimes causing pain is the only way to do the right thing. But, no. No, I would not expect you to be the one to free me. That you would ensure another did is comfort enough."

He places a hand on Viatorus' shoulder and nods at him.

"Let us only hope that you do not need to ask that of anyone. For both our sakes."

He rises then and looks to the direction Isidor had gone in.

"I ought to put her mind at ease. Retrieve me when Runa returns."

With that he leaves to follow Isidor. He lingers in the door, watching her, waiting for her permission to enter.

[heirtothedragonsfire]

Though he winces at the comment about softness, he can't really dispute it. Disagreeing is the kind of thing that gets you dragged to fox hunts later. Besides, Zandros doesn't seem to mind, so he offers a reassuring little smile and a nod at his instructions. Once the paladin leaves, he sets about making tea. Gods know he needs one.

In the spare room Isidor had retreated to, the patron had found a moment of peace. She'd found herself pulling out her PINpoint, running her thumb along the cool metal, and considering the countless possibilities she held in her hand. The possibility of sending a thousand different messages; The chance to go to Azeroth and personally attempt to end this war; The opportunity to pull strings in a long winded method of keeping Harrowheart out of trouble. Or she could just go and meet him.

Lifting her head, she began to pace in long strides around what now felt like a tiny bedroom. The phone smacked loudly against her palm as she bit her tongue and considered her options. With her thoughts so far from that space it takes her a minute or two to realise she's being watched. All motion stops immediately and then she turns to face him.

"You're really going?"

[lionofthelight]

"I wouldn't if I didn't have to."

Zandros lingers in the doorway long after he speaks. His hands move restlessly, touching the door frame, rubbing together, trying and failing again and again to settle.

"I hope that you of all people would understand the burden of a duty that cannot be denied. If I deny the call, I am ruined. If I answer, I may yet survive. There is no choice to be made."

He begins to enter the room, but with one foot past the door he pauses. Steps back.

"I have quite a lot on my mind. And... Quite a lot I wish I had the time to make right. Knowing you, for one. On your own terms. Outside of every circumstance, including my own stubbornness, that kept us at odds and distant for so long. I wish I could have been the man that you welcomed gladly on his return."

He presses his lips together and, holding his breath for a moment, turns over his words in his mind. Finally he sighs, and then he does enter. He joins her where she is and watches her with guilty eyes.

"He will most certainly be called as well."

[heirtothedragonsfire]

Of course she understands duty. So many people cite it, and she trusts none of them. Not really. Duty is in her veins. It isn't a choice for her like it is for so many others. But for just a second she thinks Zandros might understand. A second, and then it's gone, leaving a strange echo of comfort in familiarity.

She lets him fret and dither at the edge of the threshold. A light frown on her brow, a straight back holding her composure in place. And then he steps past it to confirm her fears. He brings up her one weakness and she flinches at it. At how easy it is to send a flurry of nervousness through her and make her turn to look at a wardrobe hiding a shrine inside.

They'll expect more of him, she wants to think aloud, but keeps quiet. They won't fear the dead dying, so they'll throw him into the middle of it. They won't think that anyone cares for him, or that he's important in any way more than how many others he can kill. Her fingers tighten around her PINpoint and her jaw clenches.

But he's not here now. Zandros is. And as much as he's caused problems for her, he's not an evil man. He deserves... something.

"I don't want you to die." It might have been sweet if it wasn't the taut, near-command she delivers. She looks at him then. "I don't think anyone deserves to endure what you're being sent into. If I could stop this war, then I would. But I can't. I can't stop it. I can't help him. And I can't help you. There's nothing I can do."

[lionofthelight]

How strange it is to be surprised by such a sentiment. Or maybe it was the delivery that staggered him?

He collects himself while he listens. Her words smooth away his tension, but it isn't comfort that replaces them. No, it's an emptiness he isn't accustomed to, and a moment's worry for someone other than himself. Gently, he places his hand on her arm.

"You burden yourself with far too much responsibility. None of us can stop this. We can only hope to survive, and to one day free ourselves from all ties to that wretched planet. At times it seem a great unfairness to have been born there, but now I feel it may be more unjust to have been born free of it and nonetheless come to care for its people."

He moves his hand to hers and rests his palm over her tightly-clenched fist.

"There is nothing you can do. Do not say that in defeat, but accept it as the truth that absolves you of whatever may come. There is nothing you can do, so do not labor over what might have been if you could only stop it all.

"He and I, we are the only ones who can save ourselves. Save each other, perhaps. Should I find him on the battlefield, I will do what I can to bring him back. Even after everything, I hope that, even after everything, he might do the same for me."

[heirtothedragonsfire]

It's not enough. It's not enough. It can't come down to this: To her being unable to pull strings, to push her influence. To threaten the right person if she has to. Challenge them to a duel if it would work better. This can't be it.

Her head rolls with her eyes and she steps away to face him fully, lifting a hand and letting it drop. "And what am I supposed to do? Just sit around here waiting to see what happens?"

If she could volunteer to help, to keep an eye on Harrowheart... But she can't. She has to protect Viatorus. Viatorus who will be sitting in a soft chair in a secure study. Dreaming.

[lionofthelight]

"Yes!"

The words come with a sudden forcefulness that catches him off guard, but he can't show that kind of weakness around her.

"Yes," he repeats more evenly. "You are supposed to remain here, waiting around to see what happens. That is the dubious privilege of those not called to war -- physical safety and emotional uncertainty. Isidor! Accept that there is nothing to be done!"

He pinches the bridge of his nose and screws his eyes shut.

"I don't want what may be our final interaction to end in conflict. Have you any comforting words at all? Or ought I take my leave now?"

[heirtothedragonsfire]

That is not the reply she was hoping for. Even when Harrowheart says the unexpected, it's easier with him. With Zandros she finds it grating, a struggle. He commands her to accept the unacceptable and she wants to push back all the more.

She folds her arms, the sour expression only intensified by the biting of her tongue. Despite everything, she feels a need to try... to at least not make him an enemy.

"What do you want me to say? I don't want you to have to go to war, but I can't do anything. I can't help. What else is there to say?"

[lionofthelight]

"You don't have to do anything. You don't have to help. Not every problem was designed for you to solve. For once in your life, this isn't about you or what you can do."

He turns away and drags his hand down his face.

"I must depart. I've very little time left to say goodbye to my family. If the Light deems it fit, I shall see you again in a month's time. Goodbye, Isidor."

[westfallcorndog]

To describe the hour as 'late' would be an understatement. Midnight was hours ago, but dawn is still hours away. Harrowheart is certain that when he enters Isidor's apartment he'll find her sleeping, but it's better than catching her awake in the presence of company.

A cold and calloused palm cups Isidor's cheek, and another hand perches on her shoulder, a light but noticeable weight. The fingers on her shoulder grip her gently, and, quietly, as if from far away, a familiar voice whispers, "Isidor..."

In the blackness of her doorway Harrowheart's white irises are strikingly bright in the center of his bright, blue eyes. The tip of his nose and the curves of his cheeks are just visible from the glow.

[heirtothedragonsfire]

Loosening her grip on her Earth workplace to transition to Nexus tasks meant she had more time at home. Right now that was both a blessing and a curse. Her routine was flexible, but also lacking distraction. It had taken her a long time to settle to sleep, and had only managed to after pacing for what seemed like hours. There were so many questions, and the only answers were ones she couldn't accept.

Eventually she had worn herself down and settled to bed with a heavy tome on magical military tactics that was several centuries out of date. That had been enough to push her over the edge into sleep.

It had been a mostly uneventful dream until those last moments, which devolved into a now familiar horror story. Monsters with too many limbs that might have been human once climbing the walls and dragging themselves along the ground. She wishes she had Viatorus' control, his ability to banish them into the back of her mind, but all she could do was force herself to wake up.

Isidor.

Wake up.

It's warm. A perfect temperature. Except for her cheek. Except for her shoulder. Dread is stuck in her throat from the dream, and although her eyes are heavy with sleep her heart is hammering as she blearily looks to her shoulder. And sees a hand. Just a hand.

Whose hand it is doesn't occur to her. Just that it's absent of a body and that it spurs on the realisation that something is also touching her face. She yells and the chill that crawls across her body accumulates into a pulse of magic that sends everything -book, hand, coffee mug, lamp- flying.

Only then, when she lowers her arms and there are no hands on her anymore, does she realise someone's standing in the doorway. She blinks, wide eyed as her brain slowly processes the familiarity of those glowing eyes. Still on edge, she squints and finally croaks, "Harrowheart?"

[westfallcorndog]

The scream staggers him -- or is it the magic that throws his hand off? He feels the way it hits the wall, then the floor, and his instinct is to shake his arm as if his hand were still attached to it.

Only when she says his name does he know he's safe to step into her room. "It's me," he whispers loudly.

He hurries toward her and crouches at the side of her bed. In the dark it's difficult to tell, but despite it all there's a smile on his face. "Didn't mean to scare ya, but I figured if I was any closer when I woke ya up you might chop me in the throat."

His hands float up and his fingers grip the edge of the bed as if they're all that keep him there. He looks up at her in the darkness, and as time passes he finds it harder to smile.

"Am I allowed to be here?"

He bites his lip.

"What I mean is... Will you allow me to be here? Do you still want to see me? After everything?"

[heirtothedragonsfire]

In the doorway of her bedroom he's like a shade, a shadow she doesn't quite believe is there. After all her fretting just a few hours ago, she has to wonder if this is a dream. So she stares, confused, as he comes over to her and crouches by her bed. She barely hears him, and doesn't quite see the hopefulness making his features so uncertain.

The fact that he's real, that this isn't a dream, finally sinks in. Isidor swings her legs over the edge of the bed and lunges at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him as tightly as she can.

"I thought you were gone," she whispers desperately into his ear. "I thought they'd sent you away already."

[westfallcorndog]

In her arms that quickly, with that much conviction, there's no need to doubt. He returns her embrace and holds her closely with his arms around her middle. He rests his head against her chest and listens to her breathe, and after one long, powerful squeeze – one moment to get as close to her as he possibly can – he begins to relax. His arms remain around her and his face and chest become a heavy weight against her. He closes his eyes, and with a long breath he takes in the smell of her.

"I couldn't go without seein' you," he whispers.

He hugs her near one more time before slowly releasing her to have the chance to see her face again.

"I slipped away as soon as I could. I got a few hours 'til the sun comes up back home, and then they'll be expectin' me. I tried to get out of it. I told Command I wouldn't go. They said if I disobeyed the order they'd execute me the next time they saw me. Reforge my runeblade and all. I show my face tomorrow or never again."

He shakes his head. His hands find her knees and squeeze.

"But I'm not scared. Okay? I'm not scared, and I don't want you goin' and bein' scared–"

He stops himself abruptly and lingers on what he's just said. The lights of his eyes shift as he takes in the dim sight of her face... And, quietly, he huffs a tiny laugh.

"Not that anything scares you." He tries for a smile and squeezes her knee again.

[heirtothedragonsfire]

Fabric runs across her palms as he pulls back and a bittersweet, fearful little voice says that she should savour it. That's how it should always have been. She should have savoured every moment up until now, but she didn't, did she? Seeing his face now, outlined by the glow of his eyes, she frowns. A frustrated little flick of her hand smoothes it out a bit as the light comes on and she can see him properly. Not as if they were skulking about in the night. Which is in fact exactly what they're doing, much as she wishes she could deny that.

Her shoulders go slack as he speaks. So he already tried to get out of it. She doesn't want to talk about being scared, because she is scared. She's terrified in a strange, anxious way she's never felt before. Instead she asks what she suspects she already knows the answer to.

"What if I talked to them? What if I said you had to stay to ensure political stability? I could talk to people. I could arrange something." Running through as many solutions as she can, she leans closer, determined. "I could challenge 'Command' to a duel. I could make them let you stay."

[westfallcorndog]

Harrowheart doesn't respond -- not immediately. He lets her words sink into his mind. What if she spoke to them? Well, he knows what would happen. What if she played an angle? Said he was needed elsewhere? Without realizing, he begins to shake his head. And to duel them? Well, he wants to think she'd win. But...

"Isidor," he rasps. Being able to see her face in the nee light as he says her name is such a feeling. He tries to smile, but guilt weighs his effort down.

"I only got a few hours with you. Let's not worry about 'what if's that can't be. Let's spend the time we got while we got it. Like we always have. Let's talk like nothin's different. 'Cause it ain't. Ain't that right? Nothin's gonna change. After tonight, whatever comes next... That's just business as usual for me. More than I'm used to, but nothin' I ain't ever seen before."

His hands move upward and once again he's cupping her cheek and holding her shoulder. He looks up at her, and now his smile is more sincere.

"I made it through worse when I had a whole lot less to live for. Sylvanas ain't gonna kill me. She ain't got any right to, after all. Only one woman out there gets to decide if I live or die." He winks.

His hand drifts from her cheek and he runs his fingers through her hair.

"This is the place we had our first kiss. You remember that? And you remember the night before? It was a bad time, and a bad night... But it was a good mornin', wasn't it? Why don't you remind me how it went? The way you remember it."

[heirtothedragonsfire]

Even with the sweetness of his gentle pleas to put aside these thoughts of hers, she watches him with a hard frown. He's asking her to relinquish control of this situation. If he just supported her, and let her take this bull by the horns, she's sure she could wrestle it into submission. She'd find a way. It might not be quick, or easy, or pretty, but she could do it. Instead he asks her softly to let this go. He asks her not to go looking for control. He asks her to trust him. To trust in his words and his promises.

Warm hands curl into fists and her nails dig into her skin. Why is it that with all her position and power and wealth, she has to stay quieter than the Archon himself? It's not right. It's not fair.

She has to trust him. She doesn't have to be happy with it. She just has to trust him.

With a long blink, she swallows and looks down at the space between them. "I remember your solution to me having a nightmare was to crack open the drinks and tell me dirty jokes." Despite the vaguely disapproving voice, the corner of her mouth twitches in a smile and she meets his gaze. "I guess it worked. I don't remember much about the nightmare. Unless you count the nightmare of having to get up for work the next day."

"I was so busy, so distracted with thoughts of meetings and schedules and paperwork. My mind was a million miles away and then..." Her features soften without her even realising it, melting into an affectionate little smile. "You brought me back to you with a strong hand and soft lips..." And with that she leans in, taking his lips in hers with the lightest of lingering kisses.

[westfallcorndog]

How pleasant it is to hear the story from her own perspective. He's smiling up to the moment she joins them in a kiss, where the past gives way to the present. He leans into her touch and closes his eyes, and he doesn't pull away until she does.

"Tonight won't be so different," he whispers as he finally makes his way up and onto the bed. "You'll remember the good parts and forget the bad."

He brushes a strand of hair from her face and spends a moment considering the sight of her.

"I'm gonna be worried about you while I'm gone. I'd feel better if you let me leave you somethin' to keep you safe."

The lights of his eyes search her face.

"My runeblade," he finally says. "The right half. The important half. I wanna leave it here with you, to look out for you. In case you need it."