As the two sat together, their hands found each other once more—just as they had that day in the dirt. Only now, the gesture carried a different weight. It wasn’t about survival. It was about encouragement. It wasn’t about fear. It was about hope.
For Mason, it was proof that even though recovery will be long and painful, he doesn’t have to walk it alone. For Rees, it was a reminder of why he wears the badge—not just to enforce the law, but to be a steady hand in moments of crisis, to show humanity when it’s needed most.
Mason will spend months, perhaps years, rebuilding his strength. Physical therapy will test his endurance, and there will be days when frustration threatens to overshadow progress. But he will also carry the memory of a deputy who chose to lay down in the dirt beside him instead of standing above him. A man who reminded him that courage isn’t the absence of pain, but the refusal to face it alone.
And one day, when Mason takes his first strong steps again, perhaps with scars that tell his story, he will know that the hand he held in his darkest hour helped him reach that moment. Because sometimes heroes wear badges. And sometimes, they simply lie down in the dirt, take your hand, and promise you’re not alone.
