Linda
What was supposed to be a simple trip across the Appalachia ended up being one of the worst decisions Bo had ever made – which was really saying something. The big man was not known for making a lot of level-headed decisions, but he thought for sure that when he caught tail-wind news of a fair across the ridge takin' place and in desperate need of goods that he had hit the figurative jackpot. Two years in Briar Ridge had helped sharpen Bo's skill as a hunter & trapper, enough now that his goods were worth selling to folk that had options. The spring prior had been bountiful and the excess of pelts Bo had lying around in his cabin were getting a bit out of hand so as soon as he had everything gathered together, he made the long, long trek to the nearest train track and hitched a ride back to Kentucky. 

Bo made sure to lock his cabin up tight and inform Mayor Cooper of his departure before leaving town – wouldn't want anyone to worry about his disappearance – and left Briar Ridge just before the start of June in the hopes of returning a wealthier man. Big man like himself must have looked right funny with rolls and rolls of pelts strapped to him like he was some pack mule, but if anyone could handle it, it was certainly 6'6'', built-like-an-ox Bruno "Bo" Luppe. 

A few buffer months in Kentucky was just what Bo needed after leaving the state a few years back. Already the land wasn't as he remembered, but it was nice to catch up with folk in his hometown and see the Bluegrass Estate – now re-named under new ownership somethin' stupid but Bo wasn't one to judge. Before he knew it, he had somehow burnt away the entire summer.

The September fair in Kentucky was a delight. City folk couldn't get enough of the soft fox furs, the rustic scratch of short deer hair, or the skins Bo had spent years tanning and processing just right. Summer wasn't quite dead and Autumn was just starting, but Winter was always a worry in the Southern state and that meant that men were thinkin' about having fur-lined gloves when they had to shovel snow and ladies needed the softest fur coat at church to show up that pig-nosed bitch Beverly. By the end of the week, Bo had sold out of his entire stock and had business cards shoved his way that he couldn't do an absolute damn thing with. But it was still a good experience for the man – even if he did miss the quiet of Briar Ridge something awful by the end of it all. 

Getting out of Briar Ridge was easy. Now returning? That was hell on earth. The trip to Kentucky could have been a month at most – Bo just liked takin' his sweet time when returning to his roots. Returning should have been just as fast. 

But as Bo tried to return home he met obstacle after obstacle after obstacle. Mostly acts of God, including but not limited to; tornados, flash-freezes, a derailed train, a broken leg, the flu, and yes, even a blizzard. 

The holdup got so bad at one point that Bo had completely run out of the funds earned during the fair, so he had to find someone willing to hire him and go to the Spring fair in hopes of recouping some of his losses. He had been somewhat of a suspicious man since the whole cabin-in-the-woods incident and this felt like divine punishment the likes of which Bo believed, frankly, seemed uncalled for.

He was a veteran, half-deaf, unmarried, and that had to count for something in terms of boons the Lord was handin' out. And yes – Bo had a notorious mischievous streak to him but surely he didn't deserve to be bullied half as bad as this. 

After what felt like an eternity, Bo was able to board his final train back to Virginia and make the trek back to Briar Ridge. It had been nearly a year now and as Bo crested that final hill up towards his cabin he hoped with all his might he still had a home to come back to. 

Sure enough, like the blessin' she was, his cabin still stood. Bo could have fallen to his knees and kissed the wood door then and there, but instead he smashed off the rusty padlock and went inside to see what he was workin' with. His cabin wasn't anything fancy to begin with, modest but impeccably re-built by Bo's scarred and calloused hands all those years back, but there was definitely a layer of dust to her when the door was finally cracked open. Coughing and waving at the dusty air, Bo dropped his pack on the cramped bed he kept telling himself he'd build better and immediately went to crack open the windows. 

Thankfully nothing was too out of sorts except for a family of raccoons that had destroyed part of the chimney to make themselves at home and had to be scared off. Eternally grateful he had remembered to block up the bottom of said chimney – the cabin would have been in a very different condition in the hands of a family of raccoons – Bo bent to pry open the loose floorboard by his bedside and was relieved to find his stash of dollars untouched.

"Thank fuckin' Jesus," Bo muttered to himself as he kicked it back in place, "I don't have to be yer favorite, just let the general store have somethin' good for me tonight please." Though the last few days hadn't allowed Bo anything more than a puddle for him to use as a mirror, and he wasn't very good with a knife, so he probably needed a good washup before heading into Briar Ridge or he really was going to spook someone. Stripping himself down to his trousers, Bo kicked open his front door and marched out back to the pump to gather himself some water. She creaked and complained at the rough handling, but Bo eventually got the pump working again and Kentucky water was damn good but Briar Ridge water was somethin' else. Indulging by splashing some water in his face and the back of his neck, Bo sat in peace for a moment and just listened to the birdsong. 

Damn. It was good to be home. 

Gathering himself just a half-bucket worth, Bo carried it back into the house to try to shave himself half-decent and cut the hair that had been falling into his eyes the last two weeks of travel. 

He wasn't exactly being quiet as he stomped around the place, but well – it was his. And Bo hadn't had company in a looooong while.
Kristen
The woods surroundin' the good town of Briar Ridge held all kinds of secrets. Algernon had been fairly diligent in his efforts to memorise them in the months he'd spent treadin' their paths and tramplin' their brush, and he liked to think he had a good idea by now when it came to findin' his way pretty much anywhere. A twisted oak tree here, a tumbledown birdwatcher's shack there, an odd formation of stacked rocks, the rush of creek-water beneath his feet, all of it made up a map of sorts in his head, one that he followed on his hunts and his almost-daily wanders through the trees.

He'd come across the empty cabin within a month of his arrival, back when the snow was thick on the ground and the frost in the air nipped at your nose and cheeks if you hadn't a scarf or fur to shield 'em from the wind. It wasn't so far off the track that anyone might know of it if they fancied, but the hill was steep and the terrain less than kind. That day he'd found it, he'd thought at first that someone might still live there, but a knock upon the door and a traipse around the back had proven that to be false. Peerin' through the windows had taught him that whoever owned it might perhaps have left in a hurry, judgin' by the coffee cup still sittin' on the kitchen table and the haphazard state of the owner's belongings still strewn across the surfaces and floor.

Maybe they'd planned to come back sooner, he'd thought. And maybe they still would. 
So he'd come into the habit of keepin' an eye on the place, wantin' to make sure it made it through the winter without a break-in or, Lord forbid, a tree comin' crashin' down through the roof. He stopped by a handful of times a week, whenever he was in the area, always knockin', always checkin' through the glass for signs of life. There never were any, and the months had gone by without incident, and his rap-rap-rappin' upon the heavy door went unanswered, day after day.

The late May sun was growin' stronger each mornin', it seemed. Algernon liked to get up early when it shone bright, make the most of the day ahead, and, as usual, he passed by the cabin on the way up to check the traps furthest from town. He didn't expect much, but a rabbit or fox wouldn't have gone amiss, and the wildlife this high up were less used to avoidin' humans.
Something told him to stop on the way *Up* Rather than down, today, and he was soon makin' his way up the path to the front door.

The lock was gone.

Or rather, the lock was *Broken*, smashed into pieces and scattered on the ground before the doorway.
And the door was open. Only slightly, not thrown wide, but open all the same, a foot or so's gap between the wood and the frame, and if Algernon stopped, and breathed quiet, and strained his ears just a tad, he could hear boots thuddin' on the floorboards within.

A break-in? Or the homeowner, finally made their way back to town after such a long time gone? 
Who in their right mind would come back to Briar Ridge at a time like this? It didn't cross his mind that news of the wolves mightn't have yet reached the road or the next town over. Enough folks had left recently that it seemed obvious that the stories would've made their way to the ears of anyone thinkin' of makin' a grand return. And only crazy folk would come back to all'a this. 

Algernon Granville raised his gun, and checked to be sure it was loaded. It wouldn't hurt to go take a look, surely. In the absence of a sheriff, he was really the only defence against petty crime that this town had.
Rafael would'a gone in and scouted it out, found out who was in there, stompin' and crashin' without a care in the world. And there was no Rafael here now to say *No, don't*.

So Algernon toed the door open wide, and called out as he stepped over the threshold. 
"Hey! Who's there? Come out'n show yourself to me. We ain't need no more trouble in these parts."

It took a few blinks for his eyes to adjust to the change in light, goin' from the bright sunshine to the shadows of indoors, but his gaze soon fixed itself upon a figure - a man, and a large one at that. 
Algernon had, evidently, interrupted him mid-shave.
He lowered his weapon as quick as he'd raised it. 

"Sorry to come botherin' ya, sir," He blurted out, stoppin' in his tracks. "Ain't seen a soul 'round this place in months, an' with the lock bein' broken an' all I thought... Well, I thought somebody might'a taken it upon himself to help himself to the inside. Kin see now that probably ain't the case, an' I'll apologise for the disturbance right off the bat." 


He paused, hesitant, shuffling on the spot. 

"Algernon. Granville. Been takin' care'a the town lately. You'll forgive me?"

||
Linda
What was that saying — 'No peace for the wicked'? 

Bo stopped mid-shave, sure, but only because he knew the shine off a gun more than most. The knife in his hand was a pitiful little pocketknife he had borrowed from someone in town and forgot to give back long enough that it was embarrassin' to admit and decidedly not enough to make even a dent in the wall of man that had just invited himself inside. Jesus Christ. Must be new to town since Bo left because he finally had some competition in the Big and Tall runnin' and that was a face Bo would care to remember. 

"This is just about the worst homecomin' I've ever had," Bo grumbled as he turned back to the mirror and finished his shave, "And that's even countin' the raccoons that were finna bite me just an hour back. After I was so nice and scared 'em off instead of makin' me a new coat, too." Tapping the last of the water off the pocketknife, Bo switched it closed and into his pocket in one clean motion before turning to give the stranger a stronger look-over. 

What did he say — that he was takin' care of the town lately? What the hell happened to Sheriff Guerrero? And Bo didn't know any man of the law that asked for forgiveness, at that. Not until Bo rose to full height and flashed them his pretty smile, anyway. The stranger still had his gun clutched tight and though it was lowered, Bo figured he wouldn't give him any reason to get an itchy trigger finger. 

Then suddenly the stranger was no longer a stranger; were they makin' nice now? "Algernon." Sounded familiar, but Bo couldn't say where. They looked similar in age, so Bo skipped the formalities. He didn't seem like the type to worry over salutations. "M'name's Bo. I only return to town this mornin' so you'll excuse the mess." With this, Bo flapped his hands to both himself and his cabin, presumably to indicate that he didn't usually look like such a slop (this was a lie; Bo had missed about half his scruff in this attempt at shaving).
Kristen
Well, that didn't feel very fair. 
Much worse things could've happened to the cabin if Algernon hadn't been watchin' it so closely. Who was to say he wasn't the only thing keepin' any stray troublemakers from smashin' in the windows or climbin' up on the roof? Sure, he'd marched in with his gun, but not *Intendin'* To shoot whoever was inside. He was just, y'know, makin' sure that if he had to, he could. And Algernon took his gun everywhere. Somethin' would have to be *Seriously* Wrong for him to show up someplace without it. 

It was well and truly lowered now - this man was no threat. Just another hunter, by the looks of him and his place. Hopefully he wouldn't take too unkindly to Algernon showin' up and sharin' his turf. But Briar Ridge definitely had enough wildlife for two, and enough forest and hillside to ensure they wouldn't go steppin' on each other's toes, and if it *Really* Came down to it Algernon could pack his things and move on and...

"Bo. Pleased ta meet ya." 

He couldn't help but wonder, foolish as it might'a been, just for a moment. 
There was just an air about the man stood before him that felt awful familiar, From the build of his shoulders, not dissimilar to Algernon's own, to the rough lilt of his voice and, as Algernon took a step closer to him, a sort of glimmer in his eyes. 
And then, Algernon's heart skipped two or three beats in his chest all at once. 

The man before him was missing an ear. 

*"Bruno Luppe. Kentucky." "Algernon Granville. Virginia."*

*Twelve years prior, Algernon Granville had rolled off a boat onto French shores, had a gun thrust into his hands and a helmet jammed upon his head, and found himself in a twelve-foot trench, mud up to his bootlaces, shells whistlin' up above almost every hour of the day. With him had been boys from all over the South and beyond, strangers from all walks of life thrown together by the necessities of war. Algernon, as the oldest in his regiment, had taken each and every one of their names and faces, committed them to memory, and though he'd lost almost all of them in the bitter two years that followed, he'd never forgotten one.*
*Loved 'em like brothers, and more. Some more than most. There were no shortages of lonely, desperate folks out there on the front line.*
*Bo Luppe had been one of the first to go. Caught the wrong end of a shrapnel piece to the side of the head, and Algernon had been there as he fell, as his face blossomed with crimson blood and voices shouted for help from all sides.*
*Bo Luppe had also been the first man Algernon had held like a lover, just the two of them with a flask and shakin' hands, mere weeks after gettin' to know one another's names.*
*Losin' him had been like losin' his own damned limb.*

"I'm gonna sound crazy," Said the Algernon of 1929, back from his memories and standing in the middle of a stranger's cabin. His gun was back to being strapped to his chest, safety clicked on, all thoughts of a fight forgotten. 
"Normandy. The 116th. Forgive me, I ain't know the date back then, let alone if I could remember it now. Stop me if I got you mistaken for somebody else, but... We'd split a rum ration in cups'a coffee on the night watch. Mud so thick underfoot you'd twist an ankle in it easy if you ain't watch your step right. Dark enough you cain't see a man's face 'less he's on'y a foot from ya."
A deep breath, taken in through the nose and exhaled slow.

"Friend'a mine had a run-in with a shell that ain't end well. I thought y- *He* Was dead 'til... Well, 'til jus' now, Bo. Tell me I ain't still gotta mourn him."

||
Linda
Algernon may as well have whipped his gun around and shot Bo straight in the chest for how fast everything shattered. No – shattered wasn't the right word because this was something right finally coming together. Maybe Bo had been shattered all those years back, and the doctors cobbled him back together like the world's ugliest mosaic because that was the best they could do, and just now Algernon had touched the mis-matched, jagged colored glass with his rough hands and slotted in that final missing piece. 

They had both looked different back then. Younger, sure, but no one was offered a lick of personality with those awful buzzcuts and clean faces. Bo remembered meeting Algernon for the first time and thinking his eyes were too gentle for the hell they were about to step into. How this man stayed that kind in the weeks, months, lifetimes in the trenches was beyond Bo's comprehension. He liked to think he remained the same hot-blooded stallion he had been before gettin' drafted, but Bo knew a horse was never the same after the hot press of an iron brand. 

What Algernon had ever seen in some young Kentucky-backwater hick, Bo would never guess. All the men in the regiment had been close and some had been funnier, or kinder, or a better shot than Bo. Maybe it was because Bo had experience makin' men melt in his hands. Word traveled fast in those ditches about who could be kind in other ways and Bo wasn't a stranger to it. That Algernon picked Bo as his first was as sweet as the last shot of bourbon from the bottle. Their first kiss, shared just weeks after learning each other's names, had been so shaky Bo laughed after. He still remembered the way Algernon's breath cut sharp when Bo grabbed him by the collar and pulled him in for another. 

Never in a hundred years did Bo think he would ever forget the shine of those kind eyes.

Bo lurched from his seat and had his hands on Algernon in a single breath. The gun made it hard to hug the great man proper but Bo didn't let it deter him from tryin. The hair from his beard was scratchy but good – it kept Bo grounded as he squeezed Algernon tight. Getting up so fast had unbalanced them both, and Bo heard more than felt the heavy sound of Algernon's back hitting the cabin door as they caught one another in their embrace. 

The last time he had seen Algernon, Bo was sure he was going to die; that his last sight would be Algernon's haunted expression framed by a clear blue sky. 

*This is nice*, Bo had thought then. 

*This is better*, Bo thought now. 

Realizing that Bo hadn't said a word since Algernon identified him, the man hurried to pull back just enough to see his lost love's face. "*Amo*," Bo choked out around his crooked smile, "It's *Me*."
Kristen
The last time Algernon Granville had held Bo Luppe in his arms, it had been a scene drenched in pain and in bloodshed. With their collapsed bodies sinking into the dirt as though it was creepin' up of its own accord to swallow the two of them, Algernon had pressed a shakin' palm to Bo's chest and said *Stay with me* And *You're alright* And *Please* And *Don't go*. 
He had been certain, in that moment, that Bo would die, and that certainty had only been cemented when the medics came to take him away, and he'd not heard a word in regards to the man's well-bein' ever since. Anyone would've assumed what Algernon had - that the lack of news could only mean bad news, and that he had succumbed to his injuries in some trench or tent or far-off hospital bed. And Algernon had grieved like a widow grieved the loss of a lover, until the ships took the boys home and near enough every day after that. Had wondered countless times, *Could I have saved him*. Could he have cried out a louder warner, moved faster to stem the blood as it spilled into the earth? If he had only held him tighter, could things have ended differently?

Bo's body collided with his own with such great force that it stopped all thinkin' he might have been doin' in that moment. He stumbled back, and as his arms came up to wrap around his sturdy frame, his back hit the door, preventin' him from fallin' any further, leavin' him free to exhale a shakin' breath into bare skin that still smelled like it used to, better than any soap or cologne ever could. Up against his own poundin' heart was a pulse all too familiar, hot and strong and alive, *Alive*, ***Alive***.

Against all odds, Bo had lived. 
Not only that, but he had lived long enough for Algernon to find him again. In a place like this, in a time when he'd just gotten to thinkin' that there was no good left in this world to find.

*Him. Here. Now.*

Bo pulled back, and he was different - older, scarred, missin' that damned ear - but he was also exactly the same - big, warm, grinnin' like the cat that had gotten into the cream - and Algernon, for a moment, could only stare. 
*Amo.*
If he'd been at all unsure, if he'd questioned even for half a heartbeat that the man before him might be messin' with him... That name was enough to solidify the truth as it hung in the air between them. There'd only ever been one that called Algernon that, and *Oh* How he'd called it, over and over again, everywhere, from a playful yell across the patch of dead grass that the boys had kicked a ball around on, to the shadowy corners where they'd met in the dead of night and Bo had breathed *"Amo"* Into the crook of Algernon's neck like it was some kind of a charm. 

"Hell on earth. You- you're... You're *Alive*." Algernon's voice was just as choked as Bo's was. "You're... You... Shit. All this time I- I ain't know a thing what happened 'cept you weren't there no more. An' I... I missed ya."

||
Linda
Bo could only nod at first, so overwhelmed that it made his tongue feel heavy and useless. Algernon. Algernon was *Here*. What in the hell were the chances of somethin' like that? No, if anyone knew it best it was Bo — don't look a gift horse in the mouth. And stop starin' at him like a brain-dead idiot while we're at it.

"They wouldn't give me a lick of information about the regiment; wouldn't let me pass on a single word to any of the boys." Bo near growled. That *Indifference* To Bo's pleas still riled him up to this day, "So I hoped to God they at least told you I shipped out alive. Fuckin' rat bastards —" But no, this wasn't the time to be mad about old wounds. Algernon was here. "Here, come in." Bo stepped back enough to let Algernon breathe, but was immediately grabbing his hands and running his thumbs over the bump of Alg's knuckles as he pulled the great man further inside. 

Once he had Algernon seated in one of the available chairs surrounding the fireplace, Bo scrambled back to the vanity to grab the shirt waiting for him and pulled it on over his head in a frantic speed. It popped on easily, clearly made for Bo's impressive measurements, but when Bo turned back to Alg he was grinning with giddy excitement as he did up each button until he looked a little more respectable. "I can't believe it's you." Bo seemed to say half to himself as he finished re-dressing, the final icing on his cake being his suspenders snapped into place. 

"I — let me get you somethin'. Anythin'. I've got some bourbon I've been saving for a rainy day, or I could make us coffee." It was still early morn', but that wouldn't stop Bo from sharing the good stuff with a long-lost friend. The frantic energy wasn't leaving Bo, it seemed, though the man kept glancing at Algernon as he moved about the cabin like he was a ghost that the forest had conjured and if he looked away too long Alg would fade away.