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Timothy Button stood at the bathroom sink, brushing his teeth before bedtime. The eight-year-old raccoon boy took his time, mainly because he wanted to make sure his teeth were clean, but also because... he never exactly looked forward to going to bed. Now I know what you're thinking, all little kids don't like stopping playing to go to bed; but for Timothy, it was something more serious. He finished brushing his teeth, rinsed his toothbrush, and slowly walked down the hall to his bedroom. When he got there, he closed the door behind him, opened his drawer, and pulled out... a pair of pull-ups.

The problem for Timothy was... he had major bedwetting problems; ever since he was young, he couldn't seem to go a single night without wetting the bed. No matter what Timothy tried, the wetting just kept happening and happening; eventually, his parents gave up and decided he would just have to keep using pull-ups at night. The thought alone was enough to make Timothy cry; the knowledge that he would never grow up, he would always be a bed wetting baby. So avoiding postponing the inevitable, Timothy took off his undies and pulled on the padded underwear. As much as he hated to admit it, he had actually gotten used to wearing these things; they had pretty much become a part of his routine. He was still teased at school by a few kids for it, but his two best friends, Friendly and Jake supported him through his hard times and always were there if he needed someone to ask for help or a shoulder to cry on; and he was very thankful for that. It was a warm June night, so Timothy decided to just sleep in his pull-ups so he wouldn't be hot. He pulled off his shirt and threw it in the hamper, then climbed into bed and snuggled up in the covers. He looked out his window at the street; so quiet and lit with the streetlamps. He then heard his dad call,

"Goodnight, Son!"

"'Night, Dad!" Timothy called back. Then he lay his head against his pillow and let his tiredness take hold of him. He felt his eyelids slowly closing, and so he just relaxed, ready for the flight to dreamland.

A few hours later, Timothy felt his eyes starting to open. He opened them fully, expecting to see some kind of dreamworld; but no... he was still in his bedroom. He checked the clock; it was a minute to midnight

"Ohhhh...." he moaned, what was he supposed to do awake at this hour? His parents had gone to bed a while ago and wouldn't be happy if they discovered him up. Timothy guessed he would just have to lie here in bed until he fell asleep again. At least he could go to the bathroom if he needed to, maybe then he wouldn't... wait a minute, what was that noise? Timothy began to hear a low buzzing sound, and it was ever so slowly growing louder. Oh no! Was it a swarm of bees? Was this a nightmare? Timothy began to panic and was considering yelling for help when suddenly the buzzing changed tone. It was still coming closer, but it was softer; and it wasn't bees, it was some sort of engine. He then realized that the sound was coming from outside the window. He looked out, but at that very moment, the streetlights all seemed to go out. Timothy was now both frightened and curious; what kind of vehicle had just arrived and put out all the streetlights. Perhaps he wasn't thinking straight, but he wanted to see what this thing was. He leapt out of bed and fished a clean shirt and a pair of shorts from his drawer. After getting dressed, Timothy tiptoed out of his room, down the stairs, and to the front door. He gently opened the door and peeked out to the street. There was obviously something out there, but it was shrouded in the dark. Timothy walked out the door and began walking down the walkway to the street. Suddenly... the streetlights flashed on again, and the thing in the street was revealed to be a very old biplane! And standing next to it was a tall figure wearing a flight jacket, boots, a white scarf, and a cap with goggles.

"Good evening." the figure said. Timothy gave a yelp of fright.

"Who are you?!?" he asked.

"Relax, kid;" said the figure, "I'm not here to hurt you, I'm here to help." With that, he began to walk up the walk to the house. When he was standing directly above Timothy, the little raccoon realized that the figure was a gray wolf who looked like he was in his early twenties. But what surprised him the most was the fact that the wolf was smiling down at him. Timothy didn't know what to make of this, but he knew that he should be polite and introduce himself.

"Um..." he said nervously, "My name... my name... is Timothy Button..."

"It's nice to meet you, Timothy;" said the wolf, "My name is Lieutenant Trent Ryder of the United States 94thAero Squadron." Timothy thought that this wolf was making a mistake, so he gently said,

"Um... I don't mean to be rude or anything, but don't you mean, United States Air Force?"

"Is that what they call it nowadays?" asked Trent, "Seems more appropriate for a unit that uses mostly aircraft." Now Timothy was really confused; this guy didn't even know about the air force? Was he really dumb, or a good actor? He opened his mouth to speak, but Trent beat him to it; "In any case, Timothy," he said, "How'd you like to come for a ride with me?" Now Timothy's fear began to return a bit.

"I... I'm not supposed to... to... go with... strangers..." he stuttered nervously.

"Don't worry, kid;" said Trent, "I mean you no harm; I promise you on my life." With that, he turned around and started walking to his plane. Then he turned on his heel and said, "But if you'd rather stay, who am I to argue?" Timothy realized he was conflicted. Part of him knew it would be safer to just go back into the house and go back to bed. But for some reason, part of him actually did want to go with this strange wolf pilot.

"No... No!" he told himself, "Go back inside! You'll be safe there!" That was what he told himself, but his body wouldn't respond. Then... out of nowhere, Timothy started to walk after Trent.

"Curiosity got the better of you, eh?" said Trent, "Well... let's be off; so much to see, so little time." Timothy followed Trent right up to his bi-plane.

"It looks kinda old." he said.

"It's a Spad 13;" said Trent, "So it looks old by your standards. But back in the day, these were considered one of the best planes of the First World War. Now... would you be so kind as to look inside the cockpit and flip the big red switch for me?" Timothy thought he'd better do as Trent said, so he ran around to the cockpit and climbed up until he was looking in. He quickly found the big red switch and flipped it.

"Okay!" he said, "I switched it!"

"CONTACT!!" Trent yelled; and with that, he wrenched the plane's propeller around and BANG!!! The engine started with a splutter and a roar. Timothy jumped in surprise. Trent came around the other side of the plane and climbed into the cockpit. Then he looked at Timothy and said, "Hop in!" Timothy didn't know what else to do at this point, so he relented and climbed onto Trent's lap. Once Trent had them buckled in, he revved the engine and made a one eighty turn to make the plane face the other way.

"This is safe; right?" Timothy asked; shouting so he could be heard over the roar of the engine.

"Absolutely!" said Trent, "Now hold on tight; here we go!!" The engine revved up to full power and the plane began to roll down the street. Timothy held on tightly as they gathered speed and finally left the ground. As the landscape fell away from the plane, Timothy couldn't help but gasp in awe; it was so beautiful seeing the land down below him. But still... he was worried; who was this Trent Ryder person? And more importantly, where were they going?

Neither Trent, nor Timothy said anything as they soared through the night sky. Timothy was too nervous to say anything, and even if he did, he couldn't have been heard over the roar of the plane's engine. After about twenty minutes of flying, Trent pointed and said,

"You see that?!?" Timothy peered over the nose of the plane to try and see what Trent was pointing at. Finally, he could make out the ocean ahead of them. "That's where we're going to land!!" said Trent.

"In the ocean?!?" yelled Timothy.

"No, of course not!" said Trent, "We'll be touching down on the beach!" He swung the plane around and made for the stretch of beach stretched out below them. "Hold on!" he said, and Timothy did. Trent closed the throttle and let the plane sink down towards the sand. Timothy braced himself for the landing, and sure enough, BUMP!! The plane had landed safely on the sand. Trent cut the power and said, "Well... Looks like a great place to have a heartfelt discussion, eh, Timothy?"

"Uh... Sure..." said Timothy, "But why would you bring me out here just to have a talk with me?"

"Serenity;" said Trent, "And the fact that there's no one here but you and me." With that, he unbuckled the harness and said, "Okay, you jump down first and I'll follow."

"I don't think I can;" said Timothy, "I'm not that good at jumping down. I'll just end up falling." Trent paused for a moment, then said,

"Alright; I'll get down first and help you down." With a great amount of difficulty, Trent got down from the plane and then helped Timothy down to the beach. "Well..." he said, "Shall we...?"

"Okay." said Timothy; and the two of them began walking down the stretch of beach.

As the pair walked down the beach with a brilliant moon lighting the way, Timothy was filled with wonder. What was he doing out on a secluded beach in the middle of the night?

"So, Timothy," said Trent, "Tell me a little about yourself."

"Well..." said Timothy, "I'm kinda pathetic, actually."

"Really?" asked Trent, "Now what would make you say that?"

"The fact that I can't do anything that kids my age can do." answered Timothy, "I can't ride my bike without training wheels, I can't swim without floaties, and I have a hard time being as strong as the other boys."

"Is that why you're so timid?" asked Trent.

"Yeah..." said Timothy with a sigh, "But that's not even the worst part of it. I'm a bedwetter."

"How often does that happen?" asked Trent

"Just about every single night of my life!" said Timothy. Trent looked surprised at how the young raccoon had suddenly become a little angry. "No matter what I try, I can never go one night without wetting!" Timothy said, "Do you have any idea what it's like for me?"

"I can imagine some kids might make fun of you for it." said Trent.

"That's an understatement!" said Timothy. He walked over to a small rock and sat down on it. Trent came over, sat down next to him, and put his hand on his shoulder.

"You okay, buddy?" he asked.

"I'm not okay, and I'm not your buddy..." said Timothy, "I'm a shell of a boy who's nothing but a weak bedwetting baby, and that's all I can ever hope to be." He paused and wiped away a tear before he continued. "No matter what..." he said, "No matter how hard I try, I'll never grow up. I'll always be like this."

"That's a disheartening thought;" said Trent, "No question about that; never growing up even though you want to... it really is hard to cope with."

"Yeah..." said Timothy, "But at least I have my best friends, Friendly and Jake, to look after me. Friendly always helps me through when my bike gets stuck in the mud, and keeps me afloat when I go swimming. And Jake always makes me laugh when I feel sad. I have to be honest; they're the best friends I've ever had."

The two of them just sat in silence for a minute or two. Then Trent looked down at Timothy and said,

"You know what, Timothy? We have a lot in common."

"Huh...?" Timothy asked.

"Well..." said Trent, "Did I ever tell you; when I was your age, I had a lot of the same problems that you do now."

"Did you wet your bed every night?" asked Timothy.

"I can't say that I did," said Trent, "But I was weak; weaker than the rest of the kids in my grade. I couldn't run, couldn't hit a baseball, heck, I couldn't even get a full night's sleep. I guess my body didn't need much rest to operate on. But on top of all that... I was bullied."

"You were?" said Timothy.

"I sure was..." said Trent, "Ever single kid in my class hated me; they looked down upon me because I was so weak. They teased me when I couldn't do the running that they could, and they always picked someone else when they played baseball. If no one else was there, they played with odd teams." He paused before he said, "If I dared to stand up to them... I wound up with a black eye and bruises everywhere."

"Wow..." said Timothy, "Even I didn't have it that hard."

"You're lucky," said Trent, "You have your friends to look out for you; I didn't have anyone. Not even my father." Timothy was amazed; after thinking his life had been terrible, he now realized that what he went through was nothing compared to what Trent had suffered as a child. It made the little raccoon realize that he was pretty well off; but he wanted to know how Trent had made it through, so he asked,

"So, um... How did you... you know... become who you are today?"

"War." said Trent, "War broke out in 1914, and Europe was transformed into a battlefield. Deep down inside me, I felt that if I could go over there and stop the triple alliance from conquering Europe, I might be able to redeem myself in my father's eyes. So I started training; I trained really hard. I got a little better, but I knew that I hadn't improved enough to be a soldier; so what I did was... I signed up to be a pilot." Timothy listened with interest as Trent went on with his story. "I arrived in France;" said Trent, "And was accepted into the program, The Lafayette Escadrille. As I trained to be a fighter pilot, I realized that for what I lacked in the ability to run, I had a good sense of balance and spacial relations. I also caught on very quickly on how to maintain my engine and guns."

"Well I'm glad you found something you were good at." said Timothy, "I'm actually good at model trains, so that's something going for me."

"Sounds like a good hobby to me!" said Trent, "Anyway... where was I... Oh yes! When we were finally sent into combat, I kept my distance from the Germans at first. Then, towards the end of the fight, I crept up on a Fokker Scourge; it didn't even see me there because I was in the sun; and then... I blasted him with my machine guns and he went spiraling out of sight!" After a quick chuckle, he continued. "It was in that moment," he said, "That I realized all of my hard work and dedication training had paid off in the end. I had risen above what I was; I was a fighter pilot."

"That's a good story..." said Timothy, "Um... I don't mean to be rude, but... I don't see what it has to do with me."

"Well, Timothy," said Trent, "the thing of it is, I was struggling to do certain things because I was weak. But I got better at them because I didn't stop doing them. You know... a few years later, when I was transferred to the 94th Aero Squadron of the U.S., I got a chance to prove what I could do."

"What was it?" asked Timothy. Trent sighed and said,

"It was the battle of Verdun... My squadron was engaged with a group of Fokker tri-planes and Dr 7s. I shot down two tri-planes and one Dr, when I noticed one of my squadron mates spiraling toward the ground. I watched him as he pulled out and made a forced landing that broke his landing wheels, right in the middle of the battlefield."

"What did you do?" asked Timothy.

"Well..." said Trent, "I circled around and landed behind the French line. I got to the trenches to see if I could get out there to help him. When I got there, I saw a platoon of German tanks moving up to where my friend had crashed. I panicked; I knew that I couldn't run much, and I couldn't get there in time. But in spite of everything I knew, I just yelled to the French soldiers, 'Cover me!!' and ran out onto that battlefield."

"You did...?" said Timothy.

"I did." said Trent, "I had never run so hard in my life. It seemed like it took forever to get to the plane; I thought I was gonna die. But when I got there, I pulled my friend from the cockpit, and we began to make the run back for the French line. One thing that sticks out in my mind is that I heard a huge explosion the second we ran from the aircraft and I was thrown to my feet; The German tanks must have fired at us. We both struggled to our feet and continued running; and that's when it hit me... I was running!"

"Wow!" said Timothy.

"We made it to the trenches and took a moment there to catch our breath;" said Trent, "I left him with the French soldiers and ran back to my plane. Then I took off again and shot down four more enemy fighters! When I got back to the aerodrome that day, I learned that the pilot I had helped was okay and would be returning to combat in a day or two. My commander was very pleased with me; He said that my courage in the face of those odds was most commendable. And for that... I earned this." Trent reached into his pocket and pulled something out. When Timothy got a good look at it, he saw it was a gold medal.

"Is that a real medal?" Timothy asked, full of wonder.

"It is indeed." said Trent. Then he pointed to it and said, "Look, Timothy; This medal stands for honor, gallantry, and dedication." Timothy gazed down at the medal; in the center of it was an angel in a flowing dress, holding a sword in one hand and a shield in the other. The ribbon listed, "Verdun, Normandy, Bremen." Timothy guessed these were the most important battles that Trent and his squadron had taken part in.

"That is so cool..." Timothy said, "And you won this medal because you were brave and did something that you knew you weren't even good... at..." His voice trailed off as he realized what he had said.

"Yes..." said Trent with a smile, "Go on..." Timothy slowly looked up from the medal and into the eyes of the wolf, who was smiling down at him with a knowing smile. He thought about it for a moment... then said,

"So... what you're saying is... If I keep trying at the things that I'm not good at, like swimming and riding through mud... I might get better at them...?"

"Yes..." said Trent.

"If I keep trying..." said Timothy, "I... I can do it..." The little raccoon suddenly felt a surge of confidence, so he said it again. "I can do it." Then a smile broke out across his face; He looked up at Trent and said, "I CAN DO IT!"

"YES!" said Trent, "Yes, we have a winner!" He laughed and said, "And now, Timothy Button, for your great ability to figure things out, and your will to try, I hereby award you the highest honor I can bestow." With that, he knelt down, opened Timothy's hand, and placed his medal in it.

"What?!?" said Timothy, "But I can't take this! I just can't!"

"Timothy...!" laughed Trent, "I thought you were over this!"

"No..." said Timothy, "I can't! I... I... It's not right! I didn't earn this!"

"Yes you did." Trent said, firmly; and suddenly he was speaking to Timothy with a very serious tone; "You earned it because you realized that there is a possibility for you to change. You want to work and make yourself better at the things that you do." He paused a moment before saying, "You do... don't you?"

"Y-y-yes..." stuttered Timothy. Then Trent gave a smile again.

"Then you did earn it." he said, "And, Timothy; remember that it's okay to change some things about yourself; so long as you're changing for the better."

"Thanks, Trent..." said Timothy, "I don't know if I ever would have figured it out without your help."

"Well..." said Trent, "The sun will be up soon; I better get you home."

"Okay." said Timothy; and the two walked back down the beach to where the plane was parked.

There were still two hours until sunrise when the Spad 13 arrived back in Timothy's neighborhood. Trent guided her down from the sky and made a smooth landing right on the main street. As the plane rolled to a stop, he looked down at Timothy and said,

"Well... didn't I tell ya I'd get ya home safe?"

"You did;" said Timothy, "And I'm very grateful for that."

"I'm sure gonna miss you, kid;" said Trent, "You're one of the nicest people I've ever had the privilege to know."

"I'm gonna miss you too, Trent;" said Timothy, "I... hope everything will be... alright for you."

"Don't worry about me;" said Trent, "Just remember; keep growing, keep learning, and never... ever stop trying. Can you promise me that?" Timothy sniffed a little bit before he said,

"I promise..." Trent then gave the young raccoon a hug. Timothy couldn't help but snuggle up in return. After the moment, Trent said,

"Well... I best be getting off; my commander will be wanting to see me. And you best be getting back to bed."

"Okay..." said Timothy.

"Do you want me to help you down?" Trent asked. Timothy thought for a moment... then said,

"No thanks; I can do it." With that, he unbuckled himself and began to climb out of the cockpit. He hesitated... but only for a moment; and then swung his leg over the side, found the step, and climbed the rest of the way out.

"Well don, my son!" said Trent, "Well done!"

"Thanks!" said Timothy, "I'll miss you! Bye!" Timothy ran up to the sidewalk to allow Trent some room. Trent lowered his goggles and applied power to the engine. The Spad 13 turned around faced the other way. Before leaving, Trent looked over his shoulder at Timothy and gave one final farewell.

"I know you can do it, Timothy Button!" he called, "But if ever you need me, you'll know how to reach me!" With that, the plane roared and raced off down the street. Timothy stood in silence as he watched the plane rise off the street and into the night sky. He watched until it had disappeared into the distance; and couldn't help shedding a tear as he watched Trent go.

"Bye, Trent..." he said, "It was nice knowing you..." There was nothing more to say, so Timothy walked into his house and back up to his room. Once there, he took off his shirt and his shorts and placed them back in his drawer. He didn't even bother checking to see if his pull-ups were wet; he was too tired. He crawled back under the covers of his bed and lay down against his pillow. At long last, sleep found him again, and he was soon fast asleep.

"Timothy!" called a voice, "Timothy!"

"Wow!" exclaimed Timothy as he jolted awake. He looked out his window... it was a beautiful sunny day! "How did that happen?" he asked out loud, "I just got back to bed a few minutes ago."

"Timothy!" the voice called again; Timothy now recognized it as his mother.

"Yeah, Mom!" he called back.

"Are you up yet?" She called, "You're meeting Friendly and Jake at the playground today!"

"Oh right!" said Timothy, "Thanks, Mom! I'll be right down!" He then took a moment to regain himself. What was all that he had gone through? Had it been some crazy, whacked out dream? If it had been, he needed to watch what he ate at dinner from now on. Oh well... no use putting it off; he decided he might as well get out of his wet pull-ups and... wait a minute... something wasn't right here. Timothy threw off the blanket and looked down at his pull-ups. They were warm, but they didn't feel soggy. Timothy reached out and placed his hand on the front of his pull-ups; to his complete surprise... they were... dry. "No way..." Timothy breathed, "I must be dreaming...!" He waited a few seconds, but nothing happened; his pull-ups just stayed the way they were! It took a moment for Timothy to fully register what was happening; then a huge smile broke out across his face. He couldn't help himself; he threw up his arms and yelled, "YAHOOOOOOO!!!!" His pull-ups were dry! For him, this really was a dream come true! "Oh boy, oh boy!!" he said as he ripped open his drawer and pulled out a pair of shorts and a shirt, "Wait until Friendly hears this!" Timothy quickly took off his pull-ups and pulled on his shirt; but as he pulled his shorts up, something pinched him in the leg. "Ow!" he cried, "What was that?" He reached inside the corresponding pocket, and touched something small and hard; at that... his heart just stood still. He wrapped his fingers around it and pulled it out of his pocket. When he had brought it up to his face, he opened his hand to see what it was. "Oh..." he breathed with a touch of emotion, "Trent's medal..." Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as he gazed down at the angel with the sword and shield in the center of the medal. The words around it read, " Honor, Gallantry, Dedication." It was just as he remembered it. But as he turned it over, Timothy realized that there was something else written on the back. He squinted a bit so he could see it, but he was able to make out what the message said...

You can do it, Timothy Button.

I believe in you.

Lt. Trent Ryder: United States 94th Aero Squadron

Timothy felt tears coming to his eyes as he read the message. Somehow... in a way... All that had really happened to him; but what meant the most to him was that Trent really believed in him.

"Thank you, Trent..." Timothy said to the medal, "Thank you for being there for me..." With that, the young raccoon wiped away his tears and placed the medal into a shoebox in his closet for safekeeping. Then he walked towards the door to head downstairs and head out to meet his friends. As he did so, he couldn't help but notice he felt a little stronger; like he could stand a little taller. It definitely wouldn't happen right away, but Timothy was sure that eventually, he would be able to do all the things he had thought he couldn't; as long as he had the honor, gallantry, and dedication to grow up and prove himself. And with Friendly and Jake by his side, and Trent on his shoulder, he could do anything.