The limousine slowed down as it approached the building. Crowds of fans and reporters lined the red carpet into the building where the awards ceremony would take place. He swallowed, banishing the wish that he had stayed behind at the hotel. He could do this; he was strong enough. He would just need a little bit of help getting out and standing. A hand grabbed his arm and he looked over to see blue eyes and a smile. He smiled back.

"Thanks for riding with me, Brian."

"Not a problem," Brian replied. "You know we're all glad to help you when you need it."

The limousine stopped. Brian glanced out the window. "This is it, bud. You ready?"

He looked out at the crowd, the flashing of cameras already going. He bit his lip. Can I really do this?

"You want me to get out first?" Brian offered.

After a moment of thought, he nodded.

"Okay. You want the walker or the cane?"

Walker or cane, two symbols of his slow recovery from that horrible accident that nearly cost him his life. But, thanks to blood tranfusions, transplants, two and a half years of physical therapy, and the prayers of his friends, family, and thousands of fans around the world, he was ready.

"D?"

"Let's... let's wait and see how I feel after I'm up," he replied.

Brian nodded, then knocked on the window, signaling that they were ready. He turned back and grinned. "Can you imagine tomorrow's headlines?" he asked. "The entire front page of every paper will be dedicated to your return, Howie."

Howie Dorough smiled. "Nice to know rumors can be cleared up now."

The door opened. Brian smiled at his friend once more, then stepped out. Howie was amazed at the cheers his friend received. Brian waved, then turned around and bent over.

"This is it," he coaxed. "Take your time."

Howie nodded, then slowly began to turn toward the door. The crowd noise had decreased considerably as they waited. He scooted forward, then glanced up at Brian. The Kentuckian held out his hand.

"Together."

"Together," Howie repeated, and gripped his hand.

Brian moved his other arm around to Howie's back for support. "You count."

Howie took a deep breath. "One..." He positioned his feet. "Two..." Shifted his weight to his legs. "Three!" He pushed up as hard as he could, felt the leg muscles wanting to protest, but refusing to let them beat him. Loud screams filled his ear, and he looked up to see every person shouting and applauding him.

“Listen to that, Howie,” Brian said, awe in his voice.

As his balance steadied, Howie could pick out what the fans were shouting.

They were calling his name.