For Keeps

29. Sunrise over Annette Lake.

{Kurt}

When they pulled into the parking lot above Annette Lake, the sky above the ice-bound surface was pale yellow, speaking wordlessly of the sunrise happening behind the towering mountain range. There was enough light to pick their way down to the beach from the parking area. Kurt snugged his backpack on his shoulders, following Jon's quick-moving feet as his partner found the trailhead. Jon was silent, his face lifted and intent, like he was searching for something as he forged up the path lined with evergreens.

Even in the frigid winter temperature, the smell of pine was in the air. At this low elevation, there was little snow on the ground; Kurt's boots scuffed a soft layer of pine needles, and he lengthened his stride to keep up with Jon through a series of switchbacks climbing alongside the lake. Occasionally through the trees he caught glimpses of the grey-green icy surface cradled between the stony arms of the mountains, sky brightening with the onset of day.

Finally they broke out into a steep, open incline, with tough scrubby bushes clinging to the rocky ground. The entire view of the lake and the surrounding mountains spread underneath them, brightening in the growing light. Jon stopped, feet wide, hands open at his sides, palms turned as if receiving the breaking day over the mountains. Beams of the rising sun glowed like fire across the top of the western mountain range, and Kurt had to squint to look, eyes watering in the light.

"Oh thank God." Jon's voice was rough and strange; he dropped back a step, and when he turned to Kurt his face was crumpled, tears dropping onto his cheeks. Without saying another word, he scrambled up the side of the mountain, off the path.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Kurt followed.

There was a bare outcropping of granite and a tumble of boulders a short distance away; Kurt glimpsed the red of Jon's puffy coat at the top. Balancing, he leapt from boulder to boulder until he could pull himself onto the top of the shoulder of granite, flat and smooth as a stone tabletop. Jon was sitting with his knees drawn up, facing the bar of sun travelling down the mountainside across the lake. As Kurt straightened up, panting a little, his partner laid a hand on the bare stone beside him.

Kurt slung the backpack off his back and sauntered to the edge, glancing down. They were well out of earshot of the trail, threading below them, and pretty much out of eyeshot as well. He plopped down beside Jon, letting his legs swing over the ledge.

A soft, keening sound came out of Jon's body as tears shook him. He tipped onto his back and put his hands over his streaming face. "Shit. I forgot tissues again." His voice was strangled.

Kurt fished in his pocket, leaning back on his elbow to tuck a pair of Kleenexes into Jon's hand. "Kurt Visser survival tip," he said. "Always have a bunch of tissues."

Jon laughed and then his body arced and all the tears dammed up and held back poured out at once under the cold, day-bright sky.

Kurt unpacked his backpack, setting the tin of cookies and the thermos of coffee on the stone tabletop. He brushed tears off his own cheeks and poured himself a steaming cup. Linking his arm around Jon's bent leg, he stayed quiet and close, sipping and narrowing his eyes in the light of the rising sun while Jon cried.

Finally Jon was blowing his nose and hauling himself upright. He dropped his head between Kurt's shoulder blades, sniffing and catching his breath.

"My head hurts," he said. "I hate crying."

Kurt thought it would probably hurt less if Jon did it more often. But he guessed his partner would if he could. He poured a fresh cup into the lid of the thermos and fished out a pepper cookie, holding them up for Jon to see.