"It is at the juncture of life, technology and reason that all things are possible."

- Josh Hough

Rael gathered up his things in the slowly burgeoning darkness. There weren't many things, really - his coat, some clothing, Iart's Fang, and a few pairs of shoes - oh, yes, and the clover on the roof. It occurred to him that perhaps he'd been taking the idea of travelling light a bit too far, that the sum of his rememberance in this world would be a few stories, a few pictures, and a sweatshirt - and he found the thought mildly depressing.

It wasn't that he really /wanted/ to be remembered, after all - better that he go on and everyone get on with their lives. It was more.. a realization that, in the end, he hadn't really gotten to finish everything he'd hoped. He still didn't know how to merengue, for instance, and he never had gotten around to reading _Johnothan Livingston Seagull_ to his children. He'd never taken Stacee to the desert. Little things, that all stacked up to say that he'd been entirely too preoccupied with things that were more important, but right now didn't matter at all.

He settled down to write - filling a page for Sue, another one for Stacee, one more for each of his children. One last one for his Uncle - an envelope for each, but only that last getting an address. The closing up of old accounts, in a way - 'preparing as though you were honestly dying', as his Uncle had put it ages ago. He grinned, then. "So tell me, you old bastard, why is it I don't really /feel/ any better about this?" A question tossed to the memory of a lined, craggy Navajo face, not really expecting an answer. Rael sighed, then, and stood - eying the meager collection of things that were truly his. "Well, Old Wolf.. that didn't take as long as you thought it would."

After a moment's consideration, he decided that that was probably a good thing.

Settle all debts, now - well, he didn't have any. Not really. Easy enough. HIs things accounted for, his life prepared to leave a minimum of holes.. two things left to do. Go shopping, and tell Stacee. He decided going shopping first was probably the easiest thing.. Stacee still had the gun.

"It's always better to have one last trick up your sleeve."

- Josh Hough

With Raymond watching the apartment, he felt safe enough to head over to the Army/Navy store. Not that he was honestly that worried about Stacee, anymore - not after the dream. It was his choice, now, and he'd made it already - such was the way of things. She was strong, Sue was back about - though not at home constantly, admittedly, but about nontheless. Then there was the Sept. Crippled as they were, relatively, as small, they would still keep an eye on her for at least a little while. Until someone could investigate the address he was planning on leaving for Claudia.

He managed to get lost in the middle of a stand of helmets and camping supplies for a moment, then somehow managed to squeeze past a display of footlockers and find the clothing racks, still thinking to himself as he absently hunted for those few necessities.

He still wondered how he was going to tell Stacee anything. To be rather honest about it, he had no idea how she'd react - on the one hand, she was certainly the one person who wanted Creed dead the most. On the other? It meant that he wasn't going to be there for her, and was taking a nasty risk. It occured to him that for all she called /him/ overprotective when feeling peevish, she certainly worried quite a bit herself. Which meant that she was either going to pack him sandwiches or cry and hit him. Or both. Probably both.

He piled his pile of wargear, as it were, on the counter, still musing as he tugged out Stacee's borrowed credit card. Three road flares, three smoke emitters, a machete, a zippo lighter - a few other basic sundries. Tricks and nonsense.

After all, when you're older, slower, and less insane, it pays to have a little nonsense up your sleeve - or so David, the old ragabash bastard, had tought him. He even remembered the quote, too, sing-songed as the old beta had been tossing flash-bangs into the engine of an Endrion Oil train running the Santa Fe line: "A little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men." There is no honor in death, after all - at least, none that makes any difference. A few judicious questions put him on to a fellow that would go and grab fireworks from a neighboring state.. at least, after the memory. A little dazzle and flash was often just what you needed, occasionally.

He headed back out into the streets, and home - giving some serious consideration to just heading out /without/ telling Stacee... then decided that if he had any intention of coming home, provided he /did/ survive, it would behoove him to not sneak out. Well, this time, anyroad. And.. besides. He wanted a kiss for luck.

"When all else fails, kiss your girl, grab your sword, and kick it's ass. You may not get completely away with it - hell, it may eat your face off and devour your immortal soul - but it'll be a hell of a ride."

-Josh Hough

**** The Josh Quotes on Surviving Life courtesy of my friends... and not my friend Josh, who was far too embarrassed that we remembered these things, and that he sounded so philosophical.***