When Alex presented those two things during their California tour, Neil stared. His dark eyes grew cloudy, and it was hell trying to speak without cracking his voice. Only James Park had done something similar with a old BB gun, restored from odd parts and a spring from Butch's switchblade. But that had felt like a farewell, a departure from their bond as father and son.

Alex's gifts, on the other hand, were reminiscent of hope. Of a life waiting to be lived.

Neil doesn't stop petting. He doesn't cease with the words floating around in his head. "You gave me my life. You made me continue," he says. "Thank you."