I hear him approach from a fair distance away. Stealth, he's given up in his desperation, searching for someone, the equivalent of a man clawing at walls that won't come down. I knew that this day was coming. I knew that, sooner or later, something would shake him to the bone and he would come running. And I knew that I would be the first person he searched for.

The friends that he's made here see a fractured picture. The one that he wants them to see. It's enough to hold a man together; it's not enough to fix him. I've tried to explain that at times, but how do you when every single person views you as the problem? Warn you away, as though that's the solution?

It's not that simple.

I turn around in time to see him land.

"What's happened?"