IV. YOU COMPLETE ME
More than an hour after we start talking, a table opens up out front, where Junger and Anderson can smoke. This they do with abandon.

Junger: We don't talk about relationships that much, and we certainly don't talk about our own relationship very much, and, uh, now's our chance.
Anderson: I think this was just intuitive—with me, at least—that, from very early on, there was a lot that was very similar about us. Including vulnerabilities that were buried under bravado, or sort of always appearing open and outgoing.
Junger: Both of us are very careful not to reveal that anything is wrong. We both present an exterior where everything is fine. And we both emotionally play our cards very close to the vest. We're like cats. You can pet the cat, but ultimately the cat doesn't really give a shit whether you're there. And we can both have that effect on people—and probably on each other.
Anderson: I have a question for you. I bet I know the answer, but I've never asked you: Were you a sickly kid?
Junger: When I was very, very young I was. And then, because my father's a hypochondriac, I decided at age ten that I was going to be robust and athletic. And then, after that, I've never gotten sick. But at first I actually had a ton of health problems.
Anderson: I had really severe asthma. To the point where I had to be rushed to the emergency room a few times. So I always had this sense of being somehow apart from other kids. I did the same thing you did: I never wanted to show any physical weakness; I never wanted to show any physical pain.
Junger: Also, we both came from really weird families. My dad is French; he grew up all over Europe, and the family really reflected that, so I always felt like I was outside my peer group. And you just had a weird childhood, by any standard.
Anderson: I grew up in Asia—my dad worked for USAID—and we were constantly moving. I also think having mothers that were creative... Your mother was a painter, and mine was a children's-book writer—
Junger: I didn't even know that. See, we don't talk. You know, now that we're being forced to examine ourselves, which is a good, healthy thing... My family wasn't very close at all, so I never felt included there, either. I grew up a really solitary kid. And when you grow up solitary, your worst fear is that you'll be alone. And you cover that up by trying to convince yourself that you don't need anybody. So you don't get married at 23; you get married in your forties, like both of us did. So my question to you, because I'm just starting to understand this in myself, is: You seem very complete, and like you don't need closeness. But at your core, are you scared of being alone?
Anderson: Good question. You know, probably. I had the added thing of growing up in cultures where I couldn't understand or interact with the world around me. You create a sense of autonomy. It's always been a sense of perverse pride: I'm utterly self-sufficient; I don't need anyone. It can be couched in this way of not wanting to burden somebody.
Junger: Right. Or limit yourself. Because we've both had lives with a series of girlfriends, never settling down, running around doing foreign reporting. It all looks to the outside quite impressive and autonomous. But at its core, it's not. It's really a defense. My other question to Scott is: Is he truly the completely independent person that he appears to be?
Anderson: I suspect I'm not. But things are so intense now. My brother [Jon Lee Anderson] is a journalist, too, and he just left for Baghdad again today, and anytime my brother is in Baghdad, I slip into a different mood. And it's never anything I say to him, but if something were to happen to him, it would... I think about it all the time. So, no, I am probably not as autonomous, but I would never express it.
Junger: Until now. For an audience of millions.