The annual IAFC Ball. Or as most regular attendees called it, the "Pow Wow". A gathering of fire chiefs from all over the world, to talk, share stories, attend and present seminars, and get a look at the latest in firefighting apparatus. This year it was to be held in Washington in the state's Seattle convention center, which made it all the more convenient for Dusty, who was not a fire chief, but was going in Mayday's stead, as, mostly by default, he was his second in command. The old firetruck was getting on a little too much in mileage for any road trips, and, no offense to Dusty, hated flying, and so happily encouraged the crop duster-turned-racer-turned-firefighter to attend in his place instead of sitting this one out completely. It was a much easier matter for Dusty to simply fly to California, meet up with Blade and "get dressed", as they called switching to his fire motif, and then the both of them fly up to Washington. Plus Mayday had reckoned the experience would be a very good learning opportunity for the young plane, to be able to meet with so many different chiefs.

Dusty was quite excited. Always the social butterfly, he loved meeting new people. And also there was going to be free food. Most of all he was going to be able to spend some one-on-one time with Blade, whom he'd been in a Bonded Companionship with for the last four years. The development of the relationship had taken quite some time due to Blade's reservations about such things after the trauma associated with losing his fist Bonded Companion, Nick. The fact that they lived so far from each other didn't help matters, having to put building the relationship on hold and then resuming again whenever Dusty had been asked back to serve as extra help whenever fire seasons at Piston Peak grew busier than normal. As complicated as things were, with Dusty taking every opportunity he was given to fly out to California, after a shaky start with plenty of ups and downs, they had managed to finally fall into a trusted, warm Companionship.

The orange and white plane touched down onto Piston Peak Air Attack's tarmac after a brief catching up with Patch upon radioing her tower, and was first greeted by the smoke jumpers, who he'd always gotten along with, being closer in age and sharing the same daredevil spirit. Then Dipper rushed over to meet him, then thankfully remembered herself and slowed, the two touching noses amiably. He taxied up into where all the hangars were situated, did the same with Cabbie, rubbed up along Windlifter as they passed each other, and went into Maru's garage, where the purple tug-halfbreed was fiddling with another one of his constructs.

"Hey, Maru!"

"Dusty! Kid, how've ya been?" Maru greeted happily.

"Great! Where's Blade?" asked Dusty.

"In his hangar. He's been asked to speak at the Pow Wow; he's just finishing up the final draft of his presentation."

"Neat," the former-crop duster chirp, "Is he excited that I'm coming?"

"Yes," Maru answered before turning and pointing a screwdriver threateningly in Dusty's direction, "You tell him I told you that and you're dead."

"Haha, okay, Maru," Dusty laughed.

The doors to Blade's hangar were open as Dusty poked his nose inside. It was still in there. Quiet as the early spring's setting sun shined through the windows and bathed the interior in a warm, golden-orange glow. The sense of peace in the air was weighed down ever so slightly with the sense of focused occupation. Dusty paused to breathe it in and then entered. Engrossed in his work, the helicopter didn't move when he came further into the hangar, but Dusty knew that the other aircraft knew that he was there. Upon Blade finally turning, the orange and white plane lowered his nose, paying his respects, and the helicopter moved forward to nuzzle into him so that their cheeks rested against one another. For a moment, they simply stood that way, then they withdrew, touching noses and staring into each other's eyes, each quietly observing the other as sky-blue stared into pools of arctic ice. Dusty could feel Blade's focus on his project, his intent, and his satisfaction upon its completion. And, yes. He was indeed excited to see him. The little airplane smiled. It made him so happy, that Blade would open himself up like that to him, reaffirming that their bond was really a thing and validating him in one fell swoop.

"Hey, Blade," he said simply.

"Hey, Champ," the AugustaWestland responded. "Get here okay?"

"Yep. Flight was uneventful. You ready for tomorrow?" Dusty asked eagerly.

"Are you?"

"Of course I'm ready!"

"Well you certainly don't look ready. Go see Maru and get your war-paint put on; I want that dry before nightfall so we can fly out first thing in the morning."

"Looks like I got another date with the sander," Dusty sighed, then chuckled, "At least I'm getting used to it so I don't feel it as much."

"Like a nice massage, right?" Blade concurred wryly. "Go on; I'm almost finished with this. And no pontoons this time. It's formal but not formal enough to put assimilation stress on you just to go to a party. I'm sure Maru will agree."

"Righty-O, Chief!"

XXxx

The next morning the two aircraft departed from Piston Peak headed Northwest to Washington. The four hour flight passed fairly quickly as they each spent it catching up on things. Dusty entertained himself and Blade with a few aerobatics maneuvers, the red and white copter giving Dusty a pleasant surprise and actually joining in here and there with a few tricks of his own.

"Hey! I'll race you to Seattle!" the orange and white plane baited as they entered Oregon airspace.

"No, I don't think we should be messing around anym-GO!"

And Blade went blasting away with Dusty cursing and laughing gleefully behind him. It didn't take much effort for the plane to catch up to him; the fire chief was no spring chicken, but he was pretty fast as helicopters go and had proved once again that he was no slouch either.

They arrived in Seattle in record time, checking into the Grand Hyatt. Dusty gushed over the view they had down into Puget Sound; he loved the ocean. It was a sight he had never seen until he'd competed in the Wings Around the Globe Rally all those years ago, and despite seeing a bit too much of it for his taste then, it never dampened his wonder of it. Unfortunately the two aircraft's exertions earlier didn't dampen his energy level either. He was simply too wound up and excited from being in a new place and about the Ball tomorrow night.

Good lord, how does Skipper deal with him? Blade thought. He had hoped that throwing Dusty a bone earlier would have had the young plane nice and tired out by the time they arrived at their hotel so that the AugustaWestland could enjoy a nice quiet evening, but the racer's energy had again proved inexhaustible. He would have thought that he'd grown out of this by now. He was practically bouncing off the walls right now, but at this point he was as agitated as he was excited from sensory overload, and the last thing Blade wanted to do was snap or snarl at him for something that was just part of the way he was wired. The red and white chopper tried to think, way back to his days of being in a Companionship with Nick, of any situation that could have been equated to this and how he'd handled it, and came up blank.

Nick had always been so stoic and cool in the face of the pressure of acting and performing a lot of the stunts he did. He took to the chaos of filming and deadlines like a champ, and there were rarely any moments where Blade had to do any soothing or mentoring at all; their relationship had been so easy. To think he was cursing that now with just how starkly different Dusty was from Nick. What could he do? He knew one sure-fire way that could get the young aircraft to relax, but they should be past any of that being necessary anymore, and Blade, ever the task-oriented, stubborn bull that he was, knew that there was nothing to it but to drop his nose and push on through this complication just like any other.

"Dusty," he suddenly spoke, and though his voice was commanding but no less calm, the former-crop duster stopped dead and looked at him at the feeling of Blade's aura washing over him like the warmth of a campfire as it was thrown out with his voice as he spoke. "Come here."

Dusty did as he was told, and came over and settled down on Blade's sleeping mat with him. The larger aircraft nestled in close, and he could feel just how rapid Dusty's breaths were coming in and the tense, fretful ripping in his core. He was really stirred up.

"It's alright Dusty," the AugustaWestland soothed, "It's okay to be a bit antsy. We're in a new place, there's lots of things to see, and we're going to see it all tomorrow. It's still going to be out there waiting for you when you wake up in the morning."

Blade spoke, not in a condescending way, but in an understanding, reassuring way, more like he was affirming what Dusty already knew but was too overwhelmed to properly process. And yet the helicopter could feel the little plane's frame begin to physically shake now with the build-up of nervous energy and the need to move. Normally he would let him just go fly it off, but at this point, in the state he was in, it would be too dangerous, and it was dark now. He could hurt himself.

"Shh... You're okay," assured Blade, pressing in closer.

Dusty settled in himself, and Blade felt a pressure in the heart of him as the red and white plane bit into one of the many thick decorative cushions he'd pushed off the sleeping mat, his jaws squeezing tensely. It was in this moment that Blade realized that they had nothing for him to chew in such a situation. Dusty had forgotten to pack the usual chews he took with him on the road during racing season, and Blade had foregone packing any himself, seeing as he'd figured that the trip wouldn't warrant it. The park would just have to swallow the cost of that cushion as Blade continued to speak in measured, reassuring tones, and very slowly, he felt that pressure sort of slide off, and the rippling began to slow. Eventually, both it and Dusty stilled completely. And so did Blade, again, both inside and out. The two aircraft seemed almost catatonic as their breathing began to synchronize, the chopper's speeding up to match Dusty's before both began to gradually slow, and in a matter of moments they settled into a relaxed rate. With a soft, deep pulse, both plane and helicopter felt a gentle warmth spread in their cores as their Souls restarted back into a smooth, tranquil flow.

There we go... Now I remember, Blade thought. Although, it was not recalling something that he had done. It was what Nick had once done for him, a long time ago, before they became Bonded Companions. Blade had been having a bad time. The CHoPs gig was the first major role that he had landed after years of nothing above appearance-type roles with only a few lines. Even though he knew he'd hit the jackpot, the show was more demanding and hectic than he'd ever imagined possible. Nick Lopez, even though he was younger, had already had much more acting experience than the AugustaWestland, and could feel his costar's growing distress and frustration.

One night, when everything seemed to have reached a head, Nick took matters under his own skids. When words clearly weren't working, he'd then taken the stubborn larger helicopter and put him into a torpor, as Blade had just done with Dusty. The mechanism effectively works like a reset button, taking another's Soul into yours to cycle for it and rendering the host inert, giving both breather so that they can collect themselves and return to normal function when the "power" is turned back on. A very unorthodox method, as only Bonded Companions are typically allowed such access, but of course desperate times call for desperate measures.

Nick didn't want Blade to bow out of the show. They had become good friends and he'd grown very fond of the older chopper and his outlook and experiences. Blade for his part, though grumpy from the intrusion, could not help but feel touched by Nick's actions, that he should care enough to attempt something so risky. Opening himself up like that to an aicraft like Blade, older, stronger, with a dominant Soul, he could have gone back through the link and taken Nick for all he was worth. It solidified that Nick was someone he could trust and rely upon above all others, and it was not long before they became Bonded Companions. Blade smiled, acknowledging all the parallels as Dusty slowly came out of his torpor, much more relaxed and now acting as tired as he should have been.

"Better?" the older aircraft asked as he nuzzled his smaller Companion, giving him a few small licks.

"Yes, thanks. I needed that," Dusty sighed, "I am pretty hungry though."

Blade blew out a soft snort and a sigh from his engines in amusement and relief, thankful that that's all it was going to take to get the little racer to finally go to bed; the helicopter was feeling pretty bushed too, especially after his efforts just beforehand, and didn't fancy any pre-bedtime sparring.

"You want some food?"

Two hours later, cartons upon cartons of take-out littered the floor around the sleeping mat, the room lit only by the screen of the TV. Blade, Dusty snuggled in tightly to his side, looked down at the younger aircraft sleeping soundly, smiling, before turning it off. This would be one of the rare instances that he was planning on sleeping in in the morning, and he was glad of it.

XXxx

Both aircraft had woken up that morning much refreshed, and Dusty was ready to tackle the day ahead in his usual fashion and was practically dragging Blade out the door to go down and explore as much of the city as possible before they had to get ready for the ball that night.

"Come on, Blade! Let's go find out who really has Seattle's best coffee!"

"Dusty, no."

They did end up getting coffee at at least one shop, and thankfully it didn't spark a repeat of last night. They took a short flight around Puget Sound while getting a great view of the Space Needle, which Dusty had been erroneously calling the "Sea Needle" the entire time they'd been there, Blade correcting him again and again with growing mirth. All in all it was a terrific day for sightseeing in Seattle. The sun came out once, and they even got to see the famous Gum Wall.

"That absolutely sickens me," Blade had remarked, although in his usual dead-pan with just as much trace of emotion in his face.

Later, as the sun was just about set, Blade and Dusty made their way toward the Seattle Convention Center for the IAFC Ball, their lacquer gleaming as both had taken the time to get a wash in before the event. There were tons of emergency vehicles of all types all headed in the same direction, the helipad on top of the building constantly receiving more and more rotorcraft. Dusty was already taken with gleeful excitement and they hadn't even gone in yet.

"This is so awesome!"

In didn't take long after actually being admitted for Dusty to make the connection that this was Disneyland for fire chiefs. The first floor was taken up by the exhibition portion of the Ball, and Blade followed his smaller Companion from booth to booth as he chatted up just about everyone he saw, asking them questions about their products. It warmed the helicopter to see him so excited; he really was just as serious about this portion of his career as he is with racing. As diverse as air racing was, Blade imagined that Dusty still enjoyed being able to switch and wear a different hat from time to time, knowing how he was. He could be stubborn, but he was endlessly curious and loved to learn and try new things.

After they'd gotten their fill, and Dusty had collected every business card from every booth, they took the elevators upstairs to the real party. The ballroom was gorgeous. It was probably the biggest room Dusty had ever seen. High-ceilinged and massive to hold vehicles of all shapes and sizes; Dusty actually found himself dizzy staring up at it for too long. A full band played soft music as everyone mingled with their drinks, and buffet-style tables lined the entire east wall, which Dusty was immediately all over.

"Have at it," Blade said, "Just leave some for the rest of the people here huh?"

"Ha ha," Dusty dead-panned, "I'm actually more interested in the free bar."

"Fine. Just try not to get too wasted. I don't know if I can deal with you drunk tonight."

"I won't! Want anything?"

"Yeah, just bring me a Jack n' Coke or something."

"Really?"

"Really what?"

"You're going to have a drink," Dusty confirmed, speaking deliberately as he looked Blade dead in the face.

"Yep."

"Aw, man this is going to be the greatest night ever!" he gushed, and Blade just gave him this hooded stare. "What?! Just because you're all old and jaded and wish you could get this amount of excitement over the little things like I can!"

"Yes I do," Blade said with a slightly sardonic smile.

And so the night started off. The main stage was empty for now, but off and on throughout the night would be taken by one speaker or another, doing demos or entertaining such topics that pertained to their field. Blade was to be one of them, his presentation kept close in his hoist compartment, taking it out every now and then to look it over. It was the main reason why he was still working on his second drink when Dusty was finishing off number four, and not a single one that he brought back was the same color.

"You know you're supposed to just get a few of the same drink, not have one of every drink they make," Blade remarked impassively.

"Hey, life's short you know; I like variety."

"Boy are you gonna be hungover in the morning," was Blade's only response as he took a sip from his own. "You need to slow down; you're supposed to be representing your station after all."

"Yeah, well while you're here being a stick in the mud, I'm gonna go party with the FDNY guys," but just as Dusty was about to take his leave, he spotted a group of planes and stopped dead, gasping. "Crop dusters!"

The red and white chopper looked along the same direction that Dusty was looking in and indeed saw a group of crop dusters, males and females, talking among themselves. A few in the group were pure-bred, the others being mixes like Dusty was.

"You're surprised to see them here? Crop dusters were some of the first water-bombers, you know that."

"No, that's not it," Dusty clarified, seeming somewhat starstruck, "It's just that, if they're here than that means... they're all chiefs!"

"Why should that surprise you?" Blade asked, "Being the biggest or the strongest is not a requirement to be a fire chief. Look at all the pitties here, and I'll bet they're the toughest sons of bitches in this building."

Dusty looked back at his older Companion then, smiling that happy smile of his that never fails to melt the stoniest of hearts. Then he looked back over at his brethren, seeming eager but hesitant.

"Go on," encouraged Blade, "You should go talk to them. I've gotta rehearse anyway."

And with that, Dusty happily taxied over to group of crop dusters. They turned and looked as he approached, postures relaxed with that classic amiable expression that all working light-aircraft have. The little red and white plane felt a bit odd; apart from being smaller than all of them, he'd never seen so many planes like himself in one spot. It was like he were sitting at some nexus point in a sci-fi film with a bunch of alternate versions of himself. A female, who seemed to be the center of the group's attention, was the first to actually address him. She was a mix of Air Tractor and Dromader, and was almost completely white but for two red stripes on her tail, the tip of which was also red, as were the tips of both wings.

"Hi there," she had greeted, "You're a new face."

Her voice was clear, but with a certain weight to it. Definitely a female voice, but yet not distinctly feminine, and Dusty was immediately taken by it. Just from that introduction alone, he felt confidence and calm, learned experience. And it was direct without being unyielding. The voice of a true leader if he'd ever heard one.

"Hi," Dusty responded. "This is my first year. I'm standing in for my chief back home who couldn't make it out."

"Oh okay. I was about to say, you've gotta be the youngest chief in here," she chuckled, before tilting slightly to one side as she sat back in her landing gear, her hazel eyes appraising him as she casually asked, "So where ya from?"

"Oh, right. I'm from Propwash Junction, Station 1."

"Propwash... Oh yeah! You're Dusty Crophopper, aren't you?"

"Yes..." Dusty smiled, giving a bashful but expectant laugh, and was then pleasantly surprised when he wasn't immediately mobbed.

"I thought you looked familiar," the female former-crop duster remarked.

"So you're that air racer that took the season off to take a stab at firefighting," said another, a male red and yellow Cessna half-breed. "Had a pretty rough introduction."

"You guys heard about that, huh?" Dusty asked, shrinking in further in awkwardness.

"Oh yeah. We know all about your exploits as a probee. Quite a way to break your cherry," a different plane commented, a female emergency-green AT-802.

"Well the first time's always your hardest, right," said Dusty, finding himself at last and responding with his usual candid wit, to the laughter of the rest of the group.

"That was a pretty slick trick though," the first male said, "We couldn't have done it."

"Really?" Dusty said, wide-eyed.

The others all around them nodded, a few murmuring their yeses.

"Yeah," the white and red female affirmed, "I don't think it would have occurred to any of us to pull water by flying vertical up a waterfall. It would take an air racer the likes of yourself to think of something like that." There were more nods and murmurs as she approached the floored plane closer, "I'm June by the way. June Airway, CAL Fire Battalion Chief."

As soon as she'd properly introduced herself, only then did Dusty catch just a glimpse of the bold red lettering on the right side of her tail. He thought he might faint.

"You're... Chief... in CAL Fire?" He breathed as he straightened back up after noticing he'd unconsciously lowered in his landing gear, fearing that the action would be taken as patronizing. Come on! We're all supposed to be chiefs here!

"Uh huh," June answered, looking thoroughly amused and far from offended.

"Wow..." was about the most intelligent thing Dusty could say in the moment.

And she was impressed with him? Who the hell was he to her? Normally Dusty never had any problems speaking to anyone. At no point in his life was he given to shyness in social situations and would happily strike up a conversation with complete strangers as if he'd known them all his life. But this plane here had Dusty Crophopper of all chatterboxes tongue-tied, and if he didn't know any better she seemed to be almost coyly relishing in it. This was also about the same time that he'd noticed that the others in the group had all left and they were now alone.

"Have a drink with me?" the female chief offered.

"Sure," Dusty answered, still smiling a bit crookedly in bemused awkwardness, "What'll you have?"

"Well I know what I like; why don't you bring me something that you like?" implored June sweetly.

"O-okay. I'll be back."

The former-crop duster turned, trying very hard to keep his pace cool and collected as he taxied away, but not toward the bar. He was looking for Blade, and he was hardly the only red and white AugustaWestland in the building. Dusty scanned hard for his chevrons and call number, and finally found him standing apart from the crowds going over his lines for his presentation.

"Blade!"

"Hey, Champ, how'd it go? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I do?" Dusty said, his voice sounding a bit weak and distant before shaking himself, "I mean, never mind; It went great! One of those crop dusters turned out to be the chief of CAL Fire!"

"Oh, June?" Blade clarified, "None better for the job too. She's saved our tails time and time again at the Park during some bad seasons."

"Oh she's so cool, Blade!" the former-crop duster gushed, "And she knew about me saving Harvey and Winnie during my probation. She was actually impressed by that!"

"Well it was pretty impressive," affirmed red and white chopper. "I might be a little biased, but out of all the crazy stunts you've pulled, I have to say that was your finest moment."

"Tch, yeah, right before I bit it," Dusty groused.

"Hey, now don't sell yourself short on that. You knew what would happen if you flew up those falls to get water," and Dusty looked up at Blade in seriousness as he continued, "You were ready and willing to risk it all if it meant you could save just two lives. Any chief worth anything would kill for a probee with that kind of gumption when most have to reach a certain point before they get there. That was always in you, even before you even decided to become a firefighter."

"Wow. Thanks, Blade," said Dusty softly, before remembering why he came and found him in the first place, "Anyway, she's asking me to get her a drink!"

"Boy, you do always aim high, don't you?"

"Blade!"

"Okay, okay," the older chopper covered quickly, as they were in serious territory with how flustered his smaller Companion was, "What's the problem? Can't remember what she told you to get?"

"No, she didn't ask for anything specific, that's the problem. She just said to bring her something I'd like."

"Ah, let me think..." Blade pondered a bit, before shooting Dusty an innocuous yet judgmental look, "What haven't you already drank tonight? I remember you liking Rusty Nails after I introduced them to you."

"Oh, Blade, those are so basic though," Dusty started to moan.

"Not the kind I have in mind," the AugustaWestland halted him, "And that's not the point. You of all people should know that just because something looks basic on the outside doesn't mean it can't harbor a special secret inside that makes it extraordinary."

"Aww... Blade..." Dusty looked like he was about to cry.

"Hey, don't go getting all goo-goo eyed on me," said Blade, bumping his nose against the younger aircraft's. "Just tell the bartender to mix a Rusty Nail two to one with St. Germain."

"Huh."

"Basic, but extraordinary," Blade repeated, "And between you and me, I think it's obvious that June's a plane that's got an eye for those sorts of things. Just don't try drinking her under the table; you will lose," he advised, before being unable to help but add in, "And let me know if you need the room tonight."

"Okay, thanks, Blade," Dusty tried to laugh off as he then turned for the bar, attempting to hide a blush.

The red and white plane had the bartender make two, just to see what Blade was talking about, and then took them both on each wing back to where June was, who was talking to some new planes that he was unfamiliar with. As soon as they'd noticed his approach, they all took their leave, gentle, knowing smirks on their faces.

"Rusty Nail, huh? Wouldn't have took you for a Scotch-drinker," June remarked as she took hers, but then as she soon as she smelled it she knew that not all was as it seemed.

She took a curious sip, and when the elderflower hit her and her face lit up in intrigue as she flashed him a look, Dusty knew right then and there that he was done for. Dusty had had his fun on the occasion that it presented itself, but never had he found himself so taken with any one plane before it had even gotten that far.

The two talked as they wandered about the floor, about everything and anything but firefighting. She told him about how she grew up in rural Visalia, quickly developing a particular love of music, being very involved in Choir groups, and would even get "dressed up" and perform World War I reenactments as part of Living History in her early years of flying. Where her real love was, however, was with wildlife. She was always finding injured or otherwise imperiled creatures as a child, her mother helping her in rehabilitating them, and that passion had eventually taken her on the path to a career with CAL Fire. She was simply one of the most interesting planes that Dusty had ever met. She probably had a million stories to tell. Dusty tried next, telling her of his childhood and how both of his parents had died when he was barely two years old, being taken in and raised by Dottie's family thereafter, pretty much being raised by forklifts.

"Haha, well that explains a lot," June teased.

"Is it that obvious?" Dusty had laughed along with her.

Later, the two planes were both together in the crowd gathered below the stage to listen to Blade's presentation, which happened to be on team cohesion and recognizing how each member of your team operates as it applies to what kind of person they are, and then governing accordingly to get the best response while on the job. Blade had spotted them in the crowd at one point as he was speaking, taking note of how June had inched a bit closer, the tip of her right wing just touching his flank, and then Dusty catching her eyes, giving her an awkward but pleased smile. Heh. The kid was really making it look effortless. Most people would kill to be that obliviously charming. They were really hitting it off.

And so Blade was confused when Dusty regrouped with him, alone, at the end of the night and went with him back to the hotel. He seemed in good spirits, not put out in anyway, but as they sat together on Blade's sleeping mat, the older aircraft could still feel the antsy rippling of longing and frustration from him, even as Dusty, laying down fully with his mouth obscured by the comforter, seemed to just be boredly watching TV. Blade frowned in concern.

"Are you sure you didn't need the room tonight?" he offered, "The night's still young. I can go somewhere for a while, it's really not a problem."

"No, Blade. It's alright."

"How long is it going to take for you to remember that you can't lie to me anymore?" said the red and white helicopter gently, although his tone was very serious. "Don't think that I haven't noticed that you've been off this whole trip just because I haven't said anything. What's the matter?"

"Well, it's Mayday," Dusty began.

"Mayday," repeated Blade, flatly, not expecting that answer and wondering where this was going now.

"I'm his second in command by default, right?" Dusty continued, "Well ever since I signed on, these Pow Wows would come around and he would always just sit them out. Then he gets his invite this year and all of a sudden he's really pushing me to go in his place. He kept saying all these weird things like, "I'm not getting any younger" and "You might as well get to know everybody". It just rubbed me the wrong way and has me worried. And then after the things you said tonight and after talking to those other crop dusters, er, firefighters, it's all just really giving me the willies."

"That's what's been bothering you?" Blade asked.

"Yes. I mean, Mayday is pretty old. Even if it wasn't tomorrow or a week or a month or even a few years, if he goes, that means I'm in charge; what if I'm not ready?"

"It's not about being ready," Blade replied, and that was going to be his answer, but then the helicopter chief thought for a moment. "Let me tell you something; I was actually offered the promotion to chief three times before finally accepting."

"No way!" was Dusty's shocked response.

Blade Ranger, bowing out of any sort of challenge? It just didn't register.

"Way. Twice I was given the opportunity when the chiefs before me retired, and twice I turned it down."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't think I was ready. Our team had been through some pretty tough years and through the hardest parts I remember thinking, 'Boy I'm glad I don't have his job.'"

"I don't believe you," Dusty shook his front, smiling, "So what was different the third time?"

"Well it was another bad year. Big fire; not like the one during your probationary, but bad enough," the AugustaWestland began, "My chief got hurt, and since I was still second in command, I had no choice but to take over for him for the remainder of the operation. It was nothing bad enough to force him into retirement, but while he was down during his recovery I continued acting as chief."

"How'd you handle it?" the younger aircraft asked.

"I just handled it," answered Blade, "That's what I'm saying. You never know what you are or aren't ready for. Case in point, when you flew the WAGR. You ended up getting thrown for quite a loop, and you thought you were ready."

"I sure wasn't," Dusty said wryly, grimacing. "Rudest awakening I ever got. That being said, the Wings Around the Globe Rally isn't exactly for beginners; you're supposed to work your way up to those kind of things."

"Right," the larger aircraft agreed, "but then you persevered anyway, you stuck with it, and you showed everyone just what you were made of. Sometimes it isn't such a bad thing to tackle the hardest things right off the bat. After I directed operations on that fire, I figured if I could handle that, then I could handle anything as chief, and when the actual chief was cleared for duty, I'd already been running things for long enough that he figured he'd just let me have it. You'd think the old bird had planned the whole thing out."

"Wow..." was Dusty's quiet response, taking in and carefully processing everything that Blade had said so far.

"So," the red and white helicopter continued, "you gonna tell me now why you showed back up here alone when back at the party you were clearly well on your way to having quite the night?"

Busted.

"Ah. Well... You see..." began Dusty, but he faltered, feeling self-conscious and not knowing really where to begin. "It's complicated."

"Okay," Blade said calmly, his inflection telling his smaller Companion to elaborate.

"Well I know it's not something that most people really think about; Bonding. Everybody has a person; you don't know how but you just know it. Your person is out there somewhere and it's only a matter of finding them one day, so what is there to really wonder about? I wonder about it though. I wonder about it a lot actually."

Huh. This little plane was even weirder than he thought, although Blade could help but notice for the first time the entire time he'd been living that yes, come to think of it, it was also kind of weird that nobody thought about it, let alone talk about it with anyone. There was one time, long ago, that he himself could recall thinking about Bonding, and what it meant and entailed, but almost as soon as the question had entered his mind, some small sense within him answered, "Isn't it obvious?", at which point he went about living his life and never thought about it again.

"And what is it that you wonder about?"

"Well you know how I told you that my parents died a long time ago, when I was two, I think," Dusty began, pausing again, "I don't really remember what they look like anymore, but I do remember how they felt. Their feelings and emotions. How they felt for each other. And how could I not? Those feelings are what made me, if you think about it. I wouldn't be here without them. It must be such a powerful, beautiful thing. Just the purest thing in the world. And I want it. I've been wanting it badly more and more. To meet that someone for me. And I'd love to have kids." And Blade actually smiled at the image and thought of multiple mini-Dustys pottering around, until he said, "But… I'm afraid…"

The smile suddenly somersaulted into a puzzled frown.

"Afraid?"

"Well, it's my racing. It's something I dreamed of my whole life and also had people tell me my whole life that it would never happen, and then right when I almost started to believe them that it was a lost cause, that I really wasn't good enough, I got in. And it's everything I ever dreamed of, and then some. And that's what's got me afraid. What if I meet my Bond-Mate and I can't love them as much as I love racing?"

"Well that's ridiculous," was Blade's immediate dismissal, the very idea that Dusty of all people didn't have enough love in him for more than one thing, "If that were true you would have never risked your life to save those two campers. The way you help people. They way you've helped me, bulldozing right through the walls I put up. You need to stop being so humble and learn to give yourself some credit. And maybe try to not think too much into things and just allow yourself to feel."

"That's true I guess," Dusty conceded. "but there's another thing though. What I said before, it's still a legitimate concern, because you really just don't know what's going to happen until it happens to you when it comes right down to it, but it's not why I'm most afraid to actually find my Bond-Mate, even though it's something that I know will be amazing."

"What are you most afraid of?"

"What I'm most afraid of," the former-crop duster replied, "is that racing's a dangerous sport. I know that. Any race could be your last. Just like being a firefighter. It's something that everyone has to know, accept, and then do the job like you forgot you did. But it's what I love; I could never leave it. Even if I met someone that I loved just as much as racing…" Dusty sighed, before concluding. "It just wouldn't be fair..."

Blade stared at the younger aircraft, barely there traces of somber understanding as he considered Dusty's words. He knew now, why he was rarely ever seen dating anyone. The fire chief had always thought it refreshing and commending of the racer's character that he wasn't one to have a new plane on his wing for every day of the week like a lot of others in the sport seemed to; it had never once occurred to him that the reason for Dusty's discretion that he was actively avoiding any encounters that showed the potential of leading to anything more than just a fun, enjoyable night.

"See, Dusty…" he said softly, "Even when you think you're being selfish, you're selfless. I don't think you have anything to worry about, about anything. Mayday knows what he's doing. And so will you."

Dusty look up at his Bonded Companion. There was that smile again. That's better. The two aircraft sat in companionable silence as they each watched the forecasted rain inch it's way across a 3D mock up of Seattle on the news until Blade asked one last question.

"So did you get her number?"

"No, but she's got mine," the little red and white plane answered unhesitatingly.

And then Dusty smiled happily, closing his eyes as Blade nuzzled him, chuckling.