Chapter Text
United in Grief
General
Tags: Andriy Yermak, Valerii Zaluzhniy, Grief, Friendship, Mentions of War, Mentions of Death, Violence.
Notes: The first few sentences and overall plot came to me one evening. Since it's not really left me alone since then....maybe if I write this, I can move on with my life. Any mistakes with Ukrainian customs, laws, and so on are mine and mine alone.
Thanks: The women of the Arestlak Telegram chats, who took in a random Canadian, helped her with Ukrainian language, culture, customs, and gave her the courage to even think about writing this. And much love to ptasyn who proofread and made some great suggestions.
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Valerii Feodorovych was tired. So very tired. It went beyond exhaustion, beyond sleep-deprived, that it circled back around to tired. He thought he had been tired before—during basic training, during those hectic times in the Donbas, or the first months after his daughters were born....but they were nothing compared to how he felt now. Four months of full-scale war would do that to a soldier, he supposed, even a soldier who rode a desk like he did. How much worse it would be for his people in the field, he could only imagine.
Sighing, he stood up and went to the window. Night was falling over Kyiv, and he marvelled again at the beauty of the city. He felt lucky to be back in the city, even if only for a little while. Like the government, he and his commanders had scattered at the beginning of the war, in order to minimize the damage to the chain of command if something happened to any of them. He tried to move around but was drawn back to the capital by duty—and politics too, he acknowledged. While he and the President would never really be close friends, they were respectful of each other, and Valerii thanked God every day that Zelenskyy trusted him enough to keep out of his way most of the time.
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. At his “Come!”, one of his staff entered. “Here are the latest casualty reports, like you wanted, General” was all he said before placing the papers on his desk and withdrawing. Frowning, Valerii went back to his desk to begin the worst part of his job-- reading and memorizing the name of every soldier who had died, gone missing, or was wounded because of his orders.
He sat down and started to read. First, the wounded. Page after page of name, wounds, current hospital status. As he read, he remembered how he had felt when he heard that his older daughter, Alina, had been wounded in action. At least he had been able to visit her quickly, and got her into a hospital in Odesa, away from the front lines. He missed her...but at least in Odesa she could heal in relative peace. And be close to Khyrstyna, his younger daughter. And his wife was now safely away from the capital too—in her element, taking care of their daughters. How he missed them, but, for his family, Valerii would do almost anything. Including making use of his rank to get them somewhere safe. He made a mental note to call them later, then kept on reading.
Thankfully, this evening the list of soldiers missing in action was short—mostly members of tank crews. Valerii Feodorovych knew, sadly, that those soldiers would be moved to the killed in action columns as soon as it was confirmed that their tanks were destroyed and that they had not been able to escape.
Finally, he began with the list of the dead. Too many names were on this list. Sighing, he read slowly and grimaced at the ages of some of them. Truly, the young fight the wars that the old make, he thought.
All of a sudden, he stopped, transfixed by the sight of two names: Yermak, Denys Borysovych, age 43, hometown: Kyiv, unit: Kyiv Territorial Defense Battalion, followed by Yermak, Anastasia Serhiivna, age 39, hometown: Kyiv, unit: Kyiv Territorial Defense Battalion.
He blinked. Then read the names again. Oh no....was the first thing that sprang into Valerii's mind. Not them.... Not that he had ever met either of them. But Andriy Borysovych had been proud when his little brother had joined the Territorial Defence, and very happy when he got the video of the wedding. Valerii himself had seen that several times, as had every other regular visitor to the Office of the President.
How to handle this? He thought. Usually, a letter would be sent, but here....Andriy would be devastated regardless, but to just get a letter? And then, it would probably be sent to their parents—who had only just recently been convinced to leave the country. No. The letter would go, but this notification would be done in person. Right away. And by nobody else but by Valerii Feodorovych.
He gathered his things, made a call to ensure that Andriy was still on Bankova, the General made notes on what had happened, then left the office, making sure to turn off the lights behind him.
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Andriy Yermak looked at the clock. 21:20. Why does it feel later than 21:20? He didn't need to search far for an answer. Because you, like everybody else in this building, and especially Vova, have a remarkable aptitude for long days, short nights, and broken sleep. Turning back to his desk, he sighed. Too many pieces of paper on his desk and too many emails in his inbox. Andriy asked himself what had happened to the concept of paperless offices (wasn't the world supposed to be totally electronic by now?) and looked at his schedule for the next day. Sanction group meeting. Prisoner of war exchange group meeting. Stavka. Preparations for the special Catholic Christmas address. And why do you say yes to all of these meetings, Andriy? He knew the answer to this question too. Because your friend is hardly sleeping, and has aged 10 years in 300 days, and anything you can do to help, you will.
Andriy's reverie was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Enter!” he said. His secretary, Maria Andriyivna, came in. “Sorry to disturb you, Andriy Borysovych, but General Zaluzhnyi is here. He won't tell me why, just says that it's personal and urgent.” “Thank you, Masha. Send him in. Then go home, you've worked hard today.” She smiled at him, then disappeared behind the General as he strode in. Andriy looked at him curiously. They didn't know each other well, but he had full confidence in Valerii Feodorovych's abilities as a commander. Why would he insist on seeing him at this hour, alone, wearing his dress uniform, with such a strange expression on his face? He stood up and smiled.
“Good evening Valerii Feodorovych! What brings you to Bankova at this hour?” he inquired, while walking from behind his desk to the couch he used for more informal meetings (and the occasional late night drunk venting session with Volodymyr Oleksandrovych). “Good evening, Andriy Borysovych. I am sorry for intruding this late, but I've got some news that couldn't wait.” As they sat, those words filled Andriy with some foreboding. Something was wrong. What was it? There were several possibilities that flitted through his mind, but....
He was brought back by Valerii Feodorovych sighing, starting to speak a few times, then stopping. “There's no easy way to say this, Andriy Borysovych, so I will be honest and direct. I am sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but I felt you should hear it from me, and in person. Your brother, Denys Borysovych, and sister-in-law, Anastasia Serhiivna, were killed in action earlier today.” Andriy took in a deep breath, started to say something, but found that he couldn't say anything. The tears came then, unbidden and unwanted, and the grief overwhelmed him.
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Valerii Feodorovych had kept talking for a few moments, until he realized that Andriy wasn't in any state to be listening to him. It was as if the man had suddenly just realized that his world had upended itself, and he didn't know how to react to the new world. Valerii was sure that if the other man had been standing, he would have collapsed, he had folded in on himself so much. He waited a few minutes for Andriy to collect himself....but he didn't, lost in grief to a degree that Valerii didn't expect. Slowly, he reached over and shook the other man's shoulder. “Andriy Borysovych! We should talk....and moreover, you should probably call your parents. And those of Anastasia Serhiivna as well.” Slowly, Andriy came to enough to nod.
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“...moreover, you should probably call your parents. And those of Anastasia Serhiivna as well.” It was those words that finally penetrated Andriy's fog. His parents. Shit. How am I going to tell them? What sort of big brother am I? And Anastasia...do I even have contact information for her family? Maybe Mom and Dad do. He looked up at the General and managed a nod. “Yes. Yes, you're right. I'm not sure if I have contact information for Anastasia's family though. If my parents don't, then...” he trailed off. “Don't worry. I have their contact information,” said Valerii Feodorovych. “Before I talk to my parents, though--what happened?” He wasn't sure he really wanted to know, but he knew he needed to know. And his parents would want to know as well. He wiped his eyes, and took a few deep breaths, trying desperately to calm down.
The General looked worried, but also sad. “Of course. I will tell you what you want to know. Then you'll be able to decide how much to tell your parents. I know that their unit was in Hostumel, helping to demine the area. Anastasia found a mine. Denys and the engineers came to deal with it—he was developing quite an interest in how to do EOD. It was a nasty mine, though, and exploded as they were working on it. Denys and the engineers died instantly. Anastasia was seriously wounded, taken to the hospital, but the doctors couldn't save her.” Andriy listened to this and felt nausea well up to the extent that he looked around for a garbage can. “He was right there when the mine exploded?” Valerii Feodorovych nodded grimly. “Does that mean....how much of him is......?” Andriy needed to know if there was anything left to bury but couldn't find the words. The General must have understood from his expression, and he looked sad. “Unfortunately, there isn't much that is left. I am usually not that blunt, but I know you would want to know the truth.” “Thank you for that. I just....how do I tell my parents that?” Andriy felt the tears come again. Come on, Andriy...you can hold off on the tears a while longer; the General doesn't need to see you like this! When he looked at the other man, however, he saw only compassion and worry. “Do you want my opinion?” Andriy nodded, not trusting his voice. “All right. You tell your parents that he died trying to help others. That he died removing mines so people could return to safety. You do not tell them about how close he was to the mine. You are devastated; they will be too. But you—I know you will be able to handle this. If it were me getting this news about my brother, I would want to know. But I would also know that my parents would not be able to handle the details; the details would just prey on them and never give them peace.” Andriy thought about that, then agreed. “That makes sense.”
Suddenly, the door to Andriy's office sprang open, and the President came hurrying in. He looked at the pair on the couch and seemed momentarily lost for words. “I hope you don't mind me intruding. Maria Andriyivna stopped by to tell me that you were here, General.” Valerii got up and moved closer. “I don't mind. In fact, you are probably needed.” Volodomyr Oleksandrovych looked at Valerii again, then at his old friend, and came to a sudden realization. “Is it...Denys?” The General nodded sadly. “And his wife. I saw the names on this evening’s casualty lists and knew that I had to tell Andriy Borisovych in person.” Vova gulped and cursed softly, then rallied. “What....”
Valerii seemed to understand. “A mine with an unusually large blast radius. We were just discussing how to tell his parents. He seemed to want to do it immediately. I think he'd be more comfortable doing it at home, preferably with someone there as support, but....” he gestured helplessly at the grief-stricken man. And, also, I'm not sure he'll be able to make it home by himself safely if he talks to his family here; if someone goes with him, at least he'll get there in one piece, Valerii thought to himself.
“You're right. He needs to be at home now. If you'll help me get him to his car, I'll take him home and stay with him.” The General hesitated, as he wasn't sure it was a good idea to have the President do this kind of thing without security; he could just see Maks and Petya shooting him for letting Volodomyr Olexandrovych do this, then going after him, dragging him back, and chaining him to the situation room's chairs for the foreseeable future.
“No, Vova, you stay here.” The words made both men turn around and look at Andriy. “But Andrushka...”
“No. There will be time enough for you and me to sit and talk and grieve. You need to stay; you have a war to win.” The effort to say this seemed to be having quite an effect on the grieving man, but he kept on. “Besides, if we just disappear like this, what will Maks do? All 3 of us will end up in the hospital at best; you know that. If you insist on someone staying with me, then the General can do it.” Both Valerii and Volodymyr gaped at him. “Don't look at me like that. I'll bring him back with me tomorrow morning. We need him here too. He came to tell me in person, as soon as he heard. He was honest and answered my questions. We've never been close, but he didn't have to do that. And besides, he's done this before. If I get overwhelmed again while talking to my parents, or Anastasia's parents, I trust him to step in and get it done in a respectful manner.” This outburst seemed to exhaust Yermak, and he held his head in his hands; Valerii could hear some sniffs—obviously the other man didn't want to be seen crying at this point. Valerii Feodorovych chanced a glance at the President. The other man was staring at his friend, obviously torn. Then he looked at the General, a question in his eyes. Valerii nodded.
“Fine. You're in no condition to be argued with at this point. Besides, I don't trust you to be able to get home on your own. And you're not to come in tomorrow, or until the funeral. I need my Head back, but I need him back in a better frame of mind. I'll send Maks to tie you to your bed until your parents get back if needed.” Valerii chuckled at that, which made both men look at him. “If it comes to that, Volodymyr Oleksandrovych, I can take care of it. He's only slightly less essential than you are. It wouldn't be the first time I've had to tie people to their bed to make sure they slept. General Moisiuk can take over until I return.” The President still seemed unsure but nodded. “Fine. Since both of you have ganged up on me, then fine. I will still escort the two of you to get transport, and make sure that you know the correct address, Valerii Feodorovych.”
The walk to his car was quick, and relatively quiet. All three men were lost in their respective thoughts. As Valerii unlocked the doors to his car, Volodymyr and Andriy shared a hug and some quiet words. Then the President came over to him. “Thank you, Valerii. If I can't be there, then I can't think of anybody better to guard him tonight. Take care of yourself too—I know you're more essential to this war than I am most of the time.” They shook hands, then Valerii got in, and they were off.
As they drove through the empty streets of Kyiv, Andriy kept looking back and forth between the window and the man in the driver’s seat. “Thank you for this. I don't want to keep you any longer than necessary, though. What will your family think?” Valerii smiled a little. “No need to worry, Andriy. My family is in Odesa now; taking care of my Alina.” A flicker of worry, pain, and pride passed over his face. Andriy continued. “If I can ask, what happened?”
Valerii Feodorov sighed. “It's all right. As you probably know, Alina has been in the military for several years. She's been serving here, in Kyiv. During some of the battles that drove the Ruscists out of Bucha, she was shot several times and seriously wounded.” Again, the worry and strain showed on his face. “Thankfully, a medic was close, and was able to reach her in time.” He shook his head. “I've never felt so much like a failure as a father as I did when I saw her in that hospital bed.”
“I'm sorry, Valerii. You've probably heard that a lot. But I am. And....it's not your fault. She was doing her job and was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. How is she now? Why is she in Odesa?”
“She is improving, thankfully. I knew that there are some very good hospitals down in Odesa. And Khyrstyna, my younger daughter, is studying medicine there. I don't like to use my connections, but to keep my girls safe, especially after one of them is hurt? I'd do anything to save them. And they've been apart too long. My wife was able to get down to help Alina with her rehabilitation. They should be safe there, safer than here.” With that, he gave a huge sigh. Andriy could see the worry, sorrow, and tension on his face. “I understand. I'd do the same--thought about it with Denys, in fact. But I knew what he'd do to me if he found out....now I wish I had. I'm glad she's improving, and that your family is together there.” Andriy had, in fact, forgotten that the General's daughter was in the ZSU. That's kind of rare, a general’s daughter on the front lines. Or a senior government officials' kid in uniform at all. I wonder what it would take Vova and Lena to let Sasha go fight. Given her stubbornness, she might just run off and enlist anyway if she got the chance. Andriy shivered at the thought. Just as long as I don't have to tell Vova, it might not be a bad thing if she did. “I'm sure she'll be fine. If she's anything like you, she's tough and smart. She'll recover and be back in no time. I won't tell you not to worry—but remember, they're in good hands down there.” The General smiled and nodded. “I hope you're right. She is strong, and stubborn. She'll do it just to spite the Orcs, to survive and thrive despite them.” Both smiled at that.
With that, the GPS directed Valerii to park in front of Andriy's apartment building. The two men got out of the car and went into the building. A few minutes later, they were in Andriy's apartment, staring at the telephone. “My parents first, or Anastasia's, I wonder?” said Andriy, almost to himself. He looked at Valerii, the question in his eyes. The other man responded cautiously. “Where are your parents? If either of them is out of the country, we might want to call them first, so they'll have some extra time to get back for funerals.” Andriy nodded. “My parents are in Poland, in Warsaw. I'm not sure about her family. So maybe them first because I don't know where they are.” The General nodded, then pulled a paper out of his pocket. “Here's the number. I'll do the talking, and you can jump in as needed.” He got a nod from Andriy and started dialing.
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45 minutes later....
Valerii hated being an officer sometimes. Doing death notifications was one of these times. Thankfully, Andriy was there and even contributed some information to Anastasia's family about the marriage and how to contact him and their parents. They were in Hungary and would start back the next day.
He girded himself for the second call. Looking at Andriy, he knew this one would be tough. He'd already seen how hard the news had hit the man; he was sure it would be just as tough on their parents. He cleared his throat. “Andriy. Are you ready to talk to your parents or would you like to take a break and get something to eat or drink? Or something else?” Andriy looked startled at the consideration and thought for a minute. “I could use a drink.” Then he got up and moved to his liquor cabinet and looked at the selection. “Here we go.” Valerii craned his neck to look at the chosen bottle. A Yamazaki 25 whiskey. “That looks expensive.” Andriy nodded his head. “Denys gave it to me when I took the job as the Head of the Office of the President. When he enlisted, he said we'd drink it when Ukraine won. I'll save most of it for that day, maybe drink it with my parents. But tonight seems like a time to try it, in honour of Denys.” He poured two glasses and gave one to Valerii. Then he spoke. “To Denys. Slava Ukraini!” And he drank. Valerii echoed him. “To Denys. Heroiam Slava!” and followed suit. The whiskey went down smoothly. I might have to find some of this for Olena and myself to celebrate our victory. Then he looked at Andriy. “Ready?” The other man nodded.
After they had sat down, Andriy sighed, then picked up the phone and dialed a number and put the phone on speakerphone mode. “Andriy! How are you, my son?” soon came out of the device. “Dad? It's good to talk to you too. I....I need to talk to you and Mom together. Is she there?” His voice quavered a bit, and there was a bit of silence on the other end. Then a female voice came on the phone.
“Andriy? Andriy, what's wrong?” Andriy closed his eyes, sighed, then spoke. “Mom, Dad. Denys....Denys is dead. Anastasia too.” The silence that fell was almost deafening. “Dead? What do you mean dead?” Valerii watched as Andriy pressed on. “They were dealing with some mines and one detonated and...You need to come home. We must deal with the funeral. And...and I need you here. I can't go through this alone.” Valerii could tell that that admission wasn't easy for Andriy, especially when he wasn't alone in the room. “We understand, Andrusha. We'll be back tomorrow. Are you going to be all right tonight? You shouldn't be alone.”
Valerii cleared his throat at that. “Hello, Mrs. Yermak. This is General Valerii Feodorovych Zaluzhny. I was the one who told Andriy about Denys and Anastasia. I am sorry for your loss. I will be here with him until you and Anastasia's parents come home. Anything I can do after that; you only have to ask.” There was a brief silence, and then “General! Thank you for your help. Andriy, darling, we'll be home tomorrow.”
Andriy Borysovych hung up and then just stared at the phone. That was almost too easy. They should have reacted more. Why didn't they react more? I would have thought that they'd have started crying at once or asked why I hadn't protected him. “That's probably because they're just as stunned as you are.” Confused, Andrey looked over at Valerii. The General smiled. “Didn't realize you were actually talking out loud?” “No, I didn't. I don't usually do that.” “I thought so. They're probably grieving hard right now. They're still your parents; they probably don't want to worry you by letting you see or hear them fall apart.”
Andriy thought about that. Valerii was probably at least partially right about that. He might not have kids, but he would want his honorary nieces and nephews not to worry by waiting until he was alone before really grieving or giving in to other strong emotions. Suddenly, he felt the pain, grief and even a little guilt wash over him again. Speaking of strong emotions....This time, he let the tears come. Why you, Denys? I should have protected you. Maybe if I had died instead, they'd leave you, Mom and Dad alone with all those crazy rumours about the KGB and influence peddling. He tried to stop his mind going into this sort of spiral, but soon gave it up and just felt.
After a while, he became aware of someone sitting next to him, holding him, and passing him tissues. He looked up and saw Valerii looking down at him, partly concerned, but mostly sad. I didn't expect him to stay this long after the phone call no matter what we told Vova. He's got to have better things to do. He rubbed his eyes and blew his nose. “Thank you very much for the tissues. And for staying. And, well, for everything. But I'll be all right now. You don't have to stay. My parents should be back within the day. I can survive on my own until then.” The other man immediately shook his head. “No thanks are necessary, Andriy. You needed help, and I helped. And as for not staying—tough. I promised the President I'd stay, and I don't intend to break that promise. Plus, he might just ask Maks to kill me if I left one of his best friends alone on a night like tonight.”
Andriy smiled a bit at that. “You might be right about that. All right, all right. I don't mind the company.” Then he sobered. “About the funeral. I don't know as much as I should about military funerals. Can you....” “Of course. I can get the process started, but the details will have to wait until you and Anastasia's family decide what you want.” He made a note in his phone, then stared at Andriy. “This will not happen right now, though. You need to sleep. It's 1 am. You'll need your strength to deal with the next few days. “ Andriy started to object, but the General gave him a look that had probably caused several young officers to need new pants. “No. You will sleep. When was the last time you got more than 4 hours of sleep a night? Sometime before February 24th, right?” At Andriy's nod, he continued. “So sleep now. Will you go on your own, or will I have to carry through on my threat and actually tie you to the bed?” Andriy blinked at that. What the...why would he say that? Then he remembered. Now, why didn't I remember that? And why did my mind not go there immediately? "No, I doubt tying will be necessary. I'll go on my own. But only if you sleep as well. I am sure you're even more in need of it than I am. I have an extra bedroom. Come on, I'll show you.” He got up and led Valerii towards the guest bedroom. "Here you go. Guest bathroom is just there"-and he pointed in the right direction-"and there are fresh towels and sheets all ready." Valerii nodded and smiled. "Thank you, Andriy. I will admit that it'll be nice to sleep in a real bed for at least one night. I've spent too many nights on cots and on floors over the past few months." Then he looked at Andriy. "Do try your best to sleep. I know that you have lots of regrets and worries and thoughts of what might have been on your mind now. Ruminating on them won't help anybody now. Sleep well." Then he nodded sharply and went into the bathroom.
Staring after him, Andriy felt stupefied. What would he know about regrets and how things should have been different? His family is all alive. Then he shook himself. The General probably had tons of regrets over what had happened in the war, both personally and professionally. Valerii had always cared about the soldiers he commanded and seeing all the funerals and pictures of the POWs must have caused lots of sleepless nights going over what might have been done to save even one of those guys from death or capture. Plus, his own daughter is recovering from being wounded in action. He's got to have regrets over that. Then Andriy yawned as a wave of fatigue swept over him. Yes, the General was right. Sleep was needed; he could grieve with his parents when they came home.
After he was finished in his bathroom, he went into his bedroom, and got changed into his sleepwear. As he lay down in bed, he set his alarm on his phone—he wanted to be up when his parents came over. Then he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. As he thought, though, it was slow in coming. Thoughts of his brother, his parents, and what would have to be done over the next few days ran through his head. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I should have been there at least. He tossed and turned and argued with himself about how things could have been different until, finally, he fell asleep.
“Through the prayers of the Holy Fathers, Lord Jesus Christ our God have mercy on us, amen." Valerii sighed. Another funeral, another group of people I've let down by giving their kids back in a coffin. He put his cap back on and went over to where Andriy was standing with his family and that of Anastasia Serhiivna. Mrs. Yermak saw him and smiled sadly. “Thank you for coming, General. It was an honour to have you here.” Anastasia's parents nodded. “You have been very helpful these past couple of weeks. I'm sure you've had more important things to do.” Valerii grimaced internally, then responded. “It was an honour to help, ma'am. I consider attending these to be a very important part of my job. Besides, Andriy Borysovych has been a trusted colleague, and a friend. I could do nothing less than to help as I could.” He could almost hear Andriy laugh a bit at the friend part—until recently they had been colleagues only. But the circumstances surrounding these deaths had brought them into closer contact, and now Valerii could feel comfortable calling the other man 'friend.' They talked for a while longer, until one of his aides nodded at him. He made his excuses and was on his way to his car. War waited for no one.
Later that evening
Valerii was walking to his car when he saw that someone was waiting for him. He tensed, until he recognized Andriy. He smiled as he drew closer to the other man. “Good evening, my friend.” Andriy nodded back. “Good evening. I just wanted to make sure you know how much I appreciate all of your help. This has been one of the hardest stretches of my life, and you've played a big part in making sure I got through it with my sanity at least mostly intact.” He gestured to a box on the hood of the car. “My parents insisted that you get some of the leftovers from the reception. My mom seems to think you don't eat properly.” He rolled his eyes at that, and Valerii chuckled. “Thank you and thank your mother. That is unnecessary, but welcome. Home-cooked meals have been in short supply for me recently.” He sobered and eyed the other man. “How are you doing? Really?” Andriy shrugged. “Good days and bad days. Helping my parents and Anastasia's parents has helped. Convincing Vova that I was good to come back to work helped. Nights are tough. I was always Denys' protector, since I was the older brother....and now I must deal with the fact that I didn't protect him when he needed it most. But I'll deal with it. Can't be any harder than dealing with the spy stories from that US congresswoman.” Valerii nodded. “At least your sense of humour is back. I don't know if I could joke about people like her. Give the rest time. I'm always available to talk if you need.”
Andriy nodded at that. “Same for you. How is your daughter, by the way?” Valerii smiled. “Thank you for remembering. She is making progress. I hope that she will be discharged in a couple more months. Alina wants to get back to her unit as soon as she can.” “That is good to hear. I hope that they've safe with the missile attacks.” He held out his hand, and Valerii took it. The handshake turned into a sincere hug of friendship and loss. Then they nodded at each other and went their separate ways.
Little did they know that fate would draw them back together sooner than they thought.