A pebble went skittering off the path, corkscrewing through the air and tumbling off into the darkness. The shoe that had set so set it into motion continued on, stumbling, unsure. The stars twinkled behind the clouds in silent mockery, their laughter broken up into shimmering beams. It seemed to ring in Jim's ears; he tried to cover it out but the ringing remained, and when he turned his face to the heavens in question, their merry faces only reflected in his eyes. What do they know that I don't?

Up ahead the path wound, until all the mists of the night swirled into a drain of small, square firelight glowing through a frostbit windowpane. He was walking on his own, traveling a path blindly; but he knew it by heart. It was the path that always lead home, and he knew it better than any other.

Larger and larger the little square of light grew, as he seemed to struggle to rise above all the darkness he was leaving behind. Closer and closer he drew, until he could see the frost on the glass, the rust dripping from the windowsill, the candle flickering behind the pane. He stood for a moment, caught on the bridge between the path and the front porch of the Inn. The laughter trickled away, replaced by a haunting stillness in the air and the wind whispering in his ear. Jim looked over his shoulder, unperturbed.

"We're home!" Jim called back to Kent, a big smile lighting up his face. The young man was hovering in the shadows back on the path, hesitant to step into the light. Jim waited a moment for his friend to come join him, but Kent didn't move. Slowly the boy turned, smile fading. "Aren't you going to come inside with me?"

Kent was leaning uncomfortably on his left foot, as if willing it not to move. His eyes were obscured in shadow, and his face was unreadable. "I can't."

"Why not?" Jim felt his bottom lip start to tremble.

"Well… come here, I need to tell you something." Jim looked back at the door of his home, then walked back to Kent. The tired young man kneeled to better look the boy in the eye; the firelight seemed to gleam in Kent's eyes as he took Jim by the shoulders. "Jim, what you did today… well, it was the most thoughtful thing you could have done. Stupid, yes, but… it came from your heart. Now, you're still young yet, and there are going to be plenty of mistakes you will make in life that will hurt you… especially when they were made from the best intentions of your heart. And you're going to have to face out those consequences of your decisions alone; no one else can bear them for you. Only you are responsible for your actions."

Jim's shoulders tensed under Kent's calloused hands. "I was only trying to help…" Jim began, but Kent cut him off.

"I know. And no matter what, don't let anyone make you regret what you did. But… Jim, your father doesn't want your help. He's a good man, and a good friend, but he would never be able to appreciate the strength you showed today out of your love for him; he couldn't understand those feelings for him are possible. That's not him in you, that's your mother. And I'm afraid he's overlooked her feelings, too."

Jim cast his eyes down, absentmindedly toying with the collar of Kent's tunic. "What if… what I could make him understand?"

"Then I've underestimated you, Jim Hawkins," He said with a grin. "But perhaps even the most calloused hearts can be healed. Who knows?" He hugged the boy's shoulders, and Jim smiled. Kent pulled away. "But you take care of yourself now, okay? Get some rest, we don't want you getting sick too, heaven forbid..."

"I will." Jim replied, rubbing his nose with one hand and waving good-bye with the other as Kent stood up and walked down the path into the darkness. Jim stood up on his toes but couldn't see him any longer; resigned the boy turned back to the light, back across the little bridge to the front door. His hand fell on the doorknob, the cold metal chilling his skin- and he stepped inside, the whispers dieing at his back.

Patches lay curled by the fire, fur glistening with the reflection of the flames, almost as if the kitten were a ball of fire herself. One golden eye was cracked open slightly, as felines are wont to do when they doze, and her whiskers twitched as she let out a sigh of contentment. The tension in the air seemed hardly to affect the snoozing feline, almost as if she were just blocking it out. The language of the voices meant nothing to her, just the tone of them, which were low and anxious.

"It's been hours and we haven't heard anything… I cannot believe he would just… take off. He's never done anything like this before." A feminine voice was whispering.

Another voice sighed. "This is the hundredth time we've been over this," It drawled, low and raspy, as if it had just recovered from some illness. "I'm sure he's fine, the constabularies are doing all they can. He probably is with the Rileys and you are getting all worked up for no reason."

"No… I know my son, he wouldn't just leave."

"Maybe he would."

"…How could you know if he would or would not?"

Patches' ear twitched. Slowly she brought her head up, eyes blinking open as she looked over at the door, the voices drowning out. She caught the sound of the doorknob jiggling, the mechanisms in the lock clicking, and let out a little murr as a boy stepped into the room. A dozen smells came along with him, including new, unfamiliar ones. She hurried to her feet and pranced over, little bell jingling with every step.

Jim noticed the kitten at his feet and scooped her up, smiling again, happy to be back home. Patches blinked her huge gold eyes at him and purred loudly; her damp nose sniffed at his battered, dirty skin, and he winced as she licked some dry blood off a cut on his hand in an affectionate sort of way. Jim looked up to see his mother and father sitting at a table by the fire, who hadn't seemed to notice him come in. "Well, at least someone cares," he whispered down to the kitten, who just smiled in her own way.

The discussion paused and Sarah turned her head - and froze when she saw Jim standing at the door. Her heart stopped; Leland just made a gesture with his hand. "See, what did I tell you."

Sarah wasn't listening. Before Jim could even put down Patches he was swept up into a bone-crushing hug while his mother prattled in relief. "Jim, thank goodness! I've been so worried, where were you? Why didn't you tell me where you'd gone? Why are you back so late? Why- Lord!" Her hand suddenly flew to her mouth as she caught sight of her son's condition. "James Pleiades Hawkins, what happened to you? Are you alright?"

"Momma, I'm fine! I'm okay!" Jim had to practically wail as he tried to get away from his mother, who was turning about his face and arms looking at the wounds. Leland started walking over slowly, arms crossed. Jim looked up at him. "Daddy, you're up… are you better?" He said in an entirely different tone.

"Yes, Daddy is feeling a lot better," Leland said, looking at Jim questionably. "I'm going back to work tomorrow."

Jim slumped a bit in his mother's arms. "That's good… 'cause… I really don't want to go back. I love you, Daddy, but… I'm tired."

Everyone was silent a moment as this sunk in; except for Patches, who was still purring. "Jim, where were you today?" Leland said slowly.

"At the mines… I thought… since you couldn't work… that I'd work for you... Please don't be mad at me."

Sarah stared credulously at Jim. "And they let you?"

Jim nodded. Leland's face was rapidly growing pale as he began to make connections. "Jim… why did you do that?"

The boy had to bite his lip to keep his breath from catching. "I… I just wanted to help. Christmas is coming, and we don't have any money… and you were sick… I thought, I thought maybe if I helped, then I could fix it. And you would be proud of me." He blinked away tears.

Sarah hugged Jim closer, at a loss. "My God, Jim, we could have lost you…" She murmured.

Leland had his face in his hand. He was desperately fighting a fit of rage that threatened to surge up. "Of all the stupid things you could have done…"

"Leland, hush," Sarah snapped. "We'll discuss it later… I think Jim has had a long day as it is. Besides, I think you owe him something."

His jaw clenched. "What…? Oh… thank you, Jim."

Jim muttered something into his mother's shoulder as she lifted him up. Patches squeezed her way out onto the floor, bell tinkling as she hit the floor on all fours and shook her fur. She intertwined around Leland's legs as he watched Sarah and Jim disappear up the stairs, Jim sniffling all the way and Sarah murmuring. Patches began to cry up at him, but she was largely ignored. All Leland could think about were Jim's skinned knees and bruised arms… all because of him. In the pit of his stomach and the depths of his heart, he knew that would only be the beginning for Jim; as long as he was holding down the family, Jim would follow in his footsteps, just like all the other fathers he knew from the mines. And he had seen what happened to all of them - as sure as Jim must have. He was fighting something between ire and despair at the thought… he hadn't meant this to happen… but then again, he hadn't meant any of this to happen. It made his eyes burn to think it might have all just been a mistake, a mistake he made when he was too naïve to know any better.

Patches' cries finally broke through his thoughts, and he nudged the kitten away with his foot. The kitten stumbled and was immediately silent, slinking away, bell tinkling mournfully. Leland collapsed into a nearby chair, staring past the blinds of the window, which were set to an inappropriate spring meadow.

He just didn't know if he wanted to be held responsible.