Erin
Jessie John, even at the tender age of fourteen, was never considered to be an 'unruly' child. They never strayed too far from the path, never let themself be late for important occasions, and never spoke out of hand. It was little wonder, then, that they were as close to their uncle Owen as they were.

They were swamped under the weight of Owen's coat as they sprinted off the farm, the chill of the night air bringing gooseflesh to their arms as much as the feeling of disobedience was. The only house lit on the grounds was the main house, where Owen was tending to the fire in the hearth. He'd only given Jessie a small nod of his head when they announced that they were going sleep at Dorothy's that night, not even turning his head as his nibling ran out the door.

He'd been... Different, ever since the February full moon. Josephine remained at the doctor's office, her condition too critical to risk moving her back to the farm, and her absence hung heavily over the entire farm. Each child and grandchild would take their turn visiting her, but Owen would visit each day, staying by her bedside until closing hours.

No one knew how to help him, and Jessie only had one option left in mind.

It took them a few moments to catch their breath after finally reaching Rhett's shack, bent over with their hands on their knobby knees. Once they had, they padded over to the door and knocked twice.

"Uncle Rhett? I need to talk to you..."
Susan
In some ways, being back in the shack was a strange feeling. Rhett had gotten so used to sleeping on the floor of the parlor in his aunts' house as he recovered, the thin walls of his shack felt even lonelier than they had before. At nights, he was far from the shuffling of the house denizens to the washroom or kitchen. What was he going to do with the new information he'd earned regarding the difference in cadence between the footsteps of Bonnie, Linda, Alma, and Gramma Alice? Even Spider seemed to miss Dog, taking leave from the shack to visit the bloodhound with a great frequency. 

The past week had been spent weaning himself from the constant company: showing up to dinners and lunches less regularly. It felt like leaving town all over again, even though he was just headed across the lawn. 

When he heard a knock at the door, Rhett perked up, imagining Alma or one of his aunts on the other side, bringing him a plate, or telling him there was one waiting for him. He wasn't disappointed to find Jessie John, more so confused. 

"Hey there, Jessie, what's–" Jessie's insistent tone cut him short, and Rhett tried to search the child's face for clues. Immediately, what came to mind was of course the attack suffered by Josephine. Had she been targeted again this month? Had Owen been hurt? 

Owen. 
_ _

The thought of the man made Rhett's mouth go dry. In the crowded vision of faces Rhett had abandoned for Constance, Owen's always appeared front and center. It had been a year since Rhett had crawled back to Briar Ridge, and though that crowd thinned with each weak apology the Sterling boy offered those he'd left behind, Owen remained unaddressed. Waiting. But, Rhett reasoned, not for lack of wanting. He'd been told by Owen's mother to stay away, the prohibition enforced by his aunts, close friends of Mrs. Barnes. Josephine hadn't given a detail of why Rhett should keep his distance, but Rhett could piece it together. 

He and Owen had been close before he'd left. There had been something of an ember there between them, waiting to be nursed to ignition. The urgency of Constance and all that she demanded had snuffed it all out, and Rhett carried a great deal of fear in his heart that, when he and Owen were to reunite, he'd find that ember long cold. He certainly couldn't blame the man. The sadness was heavy and Owen carried enough already. Rhett couldn't have dreamed to ask him to hold onto anything more. 

And so he'd stayed away all this time, seeing Owen around town and childishly hiding from his eye. He'd seen all the nieces and nephews grown nearly beyond recognition in his absence (he couldn't always help his interactions with them, buying a pocketful of sweets at the general store for when he saw them around). Jessie John was one of those little niblings he happened to see more often, and so they talked. Rhett sometimes paid them a few cents to run an errand or two, and his heart melted each time the words *Uncle Rhett* Hit the air. 

"Is everythin' alright? What's goin' on? Your Auntie Josie okay?" The questions tumbled out, and immediately Rhett felt guilting for potentially overwhelming the poor kid more than they already were.
_ _
Erin
Jessie liked to think of themselves as strong-willed, even at the tender age of fourteen. While the rest of the grandchildren howled and wept, they stood firm, their expression unwavering. 

Yet, at the mention of their grandmother, Jessie finally cracked.

"Nana's gone, Uncle Rhett." Their lower lip trembled as tears gathered at their lashline. "She went after the March moon, and I don't know what to *Do.*"

Jessie was only six when Rhett had left, and all their memory could sustain was the devastated look on the family's faces. For a few months after, Ben, the eldest grandchild, would ask Josephine where Uncle Rhett was- normally before she was about to visit Auntie Linda and Bonnie. Jessie would cling to Ben's patched-up pants, looking up at the weathered face of Josephine as she reached down to pat them both on the head.

The answer was the same each time: *"It's best not to talk about that boy now."*

A few nights after his return, Jessie had been helping their Aunt Dorothy make Sunday dinner while Josephine peeled potatoes. It was a casual mention, something to keep the conversation going, but when Josephine shot her head up to stare daggers at her eldest, Jessie finally understood.

Josephine had grown to loathe him.

It didn't stop the grandchildren from seeing him, either way- he was always the first they went to for a small job, or to get a handful of sweets, but the line had to be drawn in the sand, lest any of them receive their grandmother's wrath.

***Do not let Owen see Rhett.***

"Uncle Owen's not talkin' to any of us, Uncle Rhett! I'm hearin' him cry at night, a-and he's barely sleepin', and I don't know how to help and I'm scared!"

Fat tears ran down Jessie's cheeks as their chest heaved. "Please... I don't k-know what to do..."
Susan
*Nana's gone.*

Rhett's heart plummeted: for Jessie, for all the kids. And for Owen. As Jessie described their uncle's current state, Rhett felt like he was sinking under the weight of Owen's grief from across town. He swallowed thickly, unsure of the way forward.

"I'm so sorry, Jessie. I— it's good you came here. I mean. *Thank you* Fer comin'. We'll see to your Uncle Owen. We will." He cooed, the assurances tumbling out. His instinct was to go to the Barnes house and peel Owen from his sorrow, but knowing that Josephine prohibited it gave him pause. Would Rhett showing up really help matters, anyway? Or would it just make things worse? 

"I'll stop by Auntie Linda's kitchen in the big house, see if she's got any more molasses cake. We'll bring Owen some, huh? See what that does?" The plan was weak, and Rhett knew it. It wasn't until Spider appeared at Jessie's ankles that a better plan occurred. 

"Spider kin come too, cain't'cha, girl?" His eyes flashed hopefully over to Jessie's, "Your Uncle Owen loves him a critter." This was true. He felt a guilty using Spider as a conduit for emotional connection, but Rhett recognized his own interpersonal incompetence and would employ any tactic to compensate. 

As promised, Rhett and Jessie stopped by the kitchen for a big square of cake before setting off to the Barnes property, Spider trotting along behind them. 

"Maybe, when we git there Jessie, you kin... You kin try talkin' to Owen a bit. See if he'll come on out." Rhett suggested, his face scrunched up with the discomfort of the crude wooden crutch jammed into his armpit with each of his steps. He held the cake in the hand of his broken arm, the sling suspending it awkwardly at chest level. 

"It's just that... Well. You know your Uncle Owen 'n me haven't talked in a while. I jus wouldn't want him ta feel..." *Ambushed* Was the word Rhett searched for, but he settled instead for a shrug, and let Jessie lead the rest of the way to the house in weak silence.
Erin
Jessie managed a smile as Spider wound her way around their legs, and managed to give Rhett a small nod. Owen had always loved animals, even more so after his injury. Spider was a little different than what he would be used to, but he'd love her just as much as any other creature, Jessie was sure of that.

They followed closely behind Rhett as he made his way to the big house, hovering nervously at his crutched side. Even when the pair stepped foot inside, and Rhett's aunts came to offer their condolences, Jessie stayed glued to his side. Thankfully, they seemed to understand and instead draped a quilted shawl over Jessie's shoulders. It dwarfed their small frame, much like Owen's coat did, but they smiled in thanks nonetheless.

On the way to the farmstead, they continued to hover at Rhett's side, their eyes flitting to and fro from the path ahead to his broken arm.

"I can take the cake for you, Uncle Rhett- you don't have to carry it..." They muttered, brows scrunching with worry. "I'll bring it in while I try to talk to him, and you could sit on the porch if you want to. Y-You could come inside, but I don't know how Uncle Owen will react."

As they neared the main house, Jessie's steps slowed as their eyes widened.
Walter
Owen sat on the porch, his good eye set hollowly on the dirt path that led to the front steps. His blonde hair was longer and messier than Rhett would remember, the strands mostly obscuring his left side. Still, bits and pieces of his burnt skin could be seen, alongside the milky white of his bad eye.

He raised slowly from the steps at Jessie's approach, but he froze in place when he saw Rhett beside them.

"...Rhett?"
Susan
On the walk, Rhett tried to ease the tension with gentle questions about Jessie's schooling, their friends. It became clear, though, that this was no occasion for smalltalk. They walked in silence most of the way, making an odd cadence between Rhett's uneven limp and Jessie's nervous shuffling. Rhett had been keeping an eye on the path for the most part, making sure his crutch didn't land awkwardly. His attention jolted forward as Jessie slowed. 

"Oh," He breathed, involuntary. They were still a good twenty feet away, but Rhett could feel his name on its way out of Owen's mouth. Spider, unable to read social cues despite her immaculate and otherworldly sight, bounded ahead on the path, sensing a friend in Owen even though they'd never met. She chirped and circled the man cautiously, before nudging into Owen's slack hand with her entire face. 

"Go on inside, Jessie." Rhett gestured with a tilt of his head, pausing briefly to extend a hand for the treats they'd carried, "Leave the sweets, dear." 

Armed with molasses cake and a pounding heart, Rhett sauntered forward with all the courage of a bee-stung bear. A few paces short of where Owen sat, he lifted his eyes to his old friend's face. 

"Bonnie 'n Linda... Send their best." He held out the parcel of cake, glancing at Spider who was shamelessly flopped onto her side, showing her belly in a tender display of trust. Rhett wished humans could communicate so effectively and so simply. He would roll over for Owen right then and there if it meant saying *I'm sorry, I'm here, let me be something you need.*

"That's little Spider Mae. Insisted on comin' with us ta see ya." He offered weakly, clearing his throat into the ensuing silence. He knew it was his job to do the talking. He'd been too silent for long enough, but what words could he choose to fit this situation? All at once, there were too few and too many to pick from. 

"Owen, I..." A great start, and another awkward pause. 
"Kin I sit down with ya?"