The darkness remained still around them. A log shifted on the fire and a moth thumped heavily against the lamp on Major Houlihan's door. No one spoke.
Father Mulcahy didn't move, eyes pressed into the night, searching out every detail in the man before him. In the dark, Hawkeye's words were amplified in his mind. Father Mulcahy's hands tightened into fists of frustration against his legs, afraid they might betray fear, or shame, or strength.
"Wait," he heard Hawkeye say again, and he blinked away tears into the foolishness that had filled the camp around them. He shook his head at the sight of Hawkeye, so desperate, so pitiful, and he turned away. For a moment Hawkeye's steps followed, then they dropped away into the silence. Father Mulcahy sighed and crossed his hand over his heart, not quite sure which one of them it was for.