His cane isn't doing him as much good as you are, and he's already told you he hates how old the cane makes him feel. You aren't fond of reminders that shove it in your face how different in age you are, but even now he isn't restrained by it. You can't decide if he's emotionally twenty or fifty yet. You just know he's emotionally enough.

"You steady?" you ask.

Falco holds your shoulder- this time needing you as much as you needed him. Somehow, without words, you know it's more than as a partner in whatever life has ahead- the dancing, the fighting, the stuff in between. It's bigger than that. It's why you stayed.

"Steady as I'll ever be."

The two of you take quiet steps outside of the hospital. He's wearing one military leg, and the other's so damaged its new end is above the knee, waiting for a new accomplice as the two of you hobble out together. You're carrying a backpack that, as full as it might seem, is lighter than what you carried on most mountain climbing trips. You're okay with that. You can do it. It's the emotional baggage that's weighing you down, but it always has, and you figure that's part of being human.

You figure you can carry that too.