Slowly but surely, Khan had recovered from his injuries as weeks bled into months. It had been painful some days, and it was a shame that he struggled to shake off, the memory of the way he’d become so frustrated with himself - at his weakness and helplessness and all the mistakes he’d made that he’d snapped at Jasper, and immediately apologised profusely, chest tight, eyes prickling with tears of anguish and anger.

In time, he’d come right, venturing out from their little valley meadow bordered by the stream, to join Jasper as he walked the borders of the Prairie. Khan had even come to accept, with a dose of courage that eased the aching in his heart, that it would take seasons more before his limp healed up enough for him to even consider crossing the sea again, if he’d ever be able to leave.

He had just been coming to terms with the possibility that, like his mother before him, in making an arduous journey from the mainland (pushing himself because he was so desperate to get back to the heart and soul that he loved with everything he was) he had caused irreparable damage that had rendered him lame. Like her, perhaps he’d never set hoof in the Badlands again.

Deep in the night, when the sky was lit by stars, Khan would wake from the discomfort sometimes, and turn to tuck his face against the delicate curve of Jasper’s neck, fighting back tears as his heart broke within his narrow chest. How many times had he left Arsinoe? How many times had he broken his promises to her? How many times had she taken him back, and forgiven him? Too many times.

He was afraid he’d run out of chances.

And then, fear struck a heavy blow far, far closer to home, one that had almost torn away from him that which mattered most - his anchor, his love. Someone had come seeking to challenge for Jasper, and if the interloper had prevailed, the small palomino splashed stallion would have been driven away from Luthien. Worse even than the knowledge that he had been unable to protect Jasper, Khan found himself almost driven mad with grief at the almost loss, and the bleak prospect of what might happen, knowing in his heart that he wouldn’t even be able to follow.

For days the buckskin had put on a brave face, trying to hold himself together, and be grateful that they were together, because that’s all that really mattered. But after a restless night, the old injury deep in the muscle of his left shoulder had ached and kept him from sleep, he struggled to get moving in the morning. Feeling a tightness in his chest, Khan blinked and rested his chin upon Jasper’s withers, shifting his weight - apprehensive and emotional - he gave a soft sigh.

“You should go without me,” came the murmur. A beat of silence, and then clarification. “To check the borders. Don’t think I…” Khan pulled back, and averted his gaze. “I mean, I’ll only slow you down. And what if - what if there was danger?” He drew in a deep breath that stuttered in his lungs. “I’ll just wait here,” the buckskin overo tried to muster a smile, but it settled crookedly, and slipped. “See you soon, Jasper. I…” Ghosting his lips over his companion’s cheek, Khan dipped his head and moved a step back, favoring his leg. “Love you.”