Doc mulled Anders's words over in his mind. He saw the dilemma in the philosophy. Thankfully, Doc had never had to serve in a real honest-to-goodness war. So he never had to reckon with his soul over lives he saved or did not save. The battle with the Revenants was a sort of war he fought alongside the Earp family descendants, but that was different. He did that out of obligation and loyalty. And for a few selfish reasons which were not too difficult to uncover.
He shrugged, as though to say he did not know how to judge the other man's heroism or lack thereof.
"Maybe you just don't see what you did. You might be the proverbial butterfly. Flutter your wings in the rainforest and cause a tsunami on the other side of the world."
He leaned back into the cushions, hankering for a cigarette and searching his pockets for something he could roll into a semblance of a smoke. When Anders went all googly eyed at the idea of Earth, Doc merely raised a crooked brow.
"Yeah, some men lived to a hundred. I once knew a voodoo woman who claimed to be a hundred and six years old and still baked her own bread. But I'm what you might call a special exception. I made a deal with a devil woman name of Constance Clootie who granted me eternal longevity in exchange for ... well, let us just say I got both the good and raw end of the deal. But now I have the good fortune of never looking a day over thirty-six."
And his lungs were miraculously healed.
He glanced over at the photo again, this time narrowing in on little Anders.
"Well, ain't you just as cute as a pin in a Sunday hat."