"The cot wailed a timeless shriek, bearing the weight of the world and Korea's would-be saviour on its joints..." Character death in passing. 100 Slash Free.
A/N: Hey! I've missed this place… and my net connection sob so for now, the library will suffice. Please review, flames welcome.
He lay on the thin mattress, gazing at the tarpaulin ceiling. A small rip in the material let in a steady drip, drip, drip on the ground below.
"Great, even the night sky weeps for him. For me. For this upholstered cesspool."
Through the curve of martini glasses the mud and rain met his eyes. Brown waves and splashes mixed with the blackened sky.
"Hey! You! Up there! Give me a break!" he yelled, in response to a thunderbolt. "I need me some booze."
Footsteps led in the Still's direction. The tinkle of gin, and the feet shuffled back.
Creeeeeak. The cot wailed a timeless shriek, bearing the weight of the world and Korea's would-be saviour on its joints. His head lay in his hands. A rain – or was it a tear – drop fell on his knee.
"The one man I…" Only the mental fortification he was known for was holding back the torrent of rage and grief.
"The one man you…" I ever-so-quietly opened the door of the Swamp and tiptoed next to him. His head flicked left and right, startled at the audible reply.
He decided I was acceptable company and tried to continue. "The one man I need, right now… the only guy who has any chance of helping me… lies dead on the operating table. And you know what? I-I could have helped it. It wasn't Frank's inpractice and malcompetence, nor was it lack of surgical equipment, nor was it… the sheer exhaustion of me or the nurses."
He turns, eyes leaking. I hate seeing him like this. He doesn't allow himself to grieve and lament like the rest of us – his incredible medical brain is continually ticking over what might have been, instead of what is.
"It was me. If I'd stopped to… if I'd only got to him five minutes sooner…"
"Look. He's not the only one. I can help you. There are many people here who can help you. You're not alone here."
He didn't answer. The drip, drip, drip grew steadily louder, the gales whistling through the Swamp. His eyes met the hole in the tarpaulin, mimicking his tears, both flowing freely. I put my arms around him, calming his shaking frame.
"It's gonna be all right, Hawk. I'm here to help you."
He continued muttering, "if only… dammit… I wish…"
I, too, looked up and out to the rivers of mud outside.
"Hey, BJ…"
I turned to face him. Wonder Surgeon. Jester of wartime. Friend in need.
"Check out the puddle there…" His pointed finger led my eyes to a face. I could easily make out in the filtered moonlight a mouth, nose, ears, even eyes, with that familiar sparkle in them. How fitting, I thought to myself. Heaven's tears in your image.
The cot creeeeeaked once again, tired of the weight it bore for so long. He walked over to the puddle, first looking over it, then casting his flooded eyes to the hole in the canvas. An uneasy smile crossed his overcast visage, as if he was acknowledging the poor man's passing. In a voice I had never heard of him before or since, he whispered to the skies:
"Godspeed, Sidney Freedman."
FIN