---
Disclaimer: All characters herein owned by Touchstone Pictures, etc. No copyright infringement intended.
---
Author's Note: This could go solo, but I've also considered expanding it into more chapters, leading up to the finale scene with Danny Junior. Should I? Reviews needed...
---
Dry Your Eyes- Frank Sinatra
Dry your eyes, and take your song out, it's a newborn afternoon.
If you can't recall the singer, you can still recall the tune.
Dry your eyes and play it slowly, like you're marching off to war,
Sing it like you know he'd want it, like we sang it once before.
From the center of the circle to the midst of the waving crowd.
If it ever be forgotten, sing it long and sing it loud.
Come, dry your eyes.
And he taught us more about giving than we ever cared to know.
But we came to find the secret and we never let it go.
And it was more than being holy, though it was less than being free,
And if you can't recall the reason, can you hear the people sing,
Through the lightning and the thunder, to the dark side of the moon,
To that distant calling angel who descended much too soon.
And come, dry your eyes.
---
The silence was killing her.
Propping her elbow on the windowsill of Danny's freshly repaired little car...oh, the bullet holes and the memories they evoked...Evelyn Johnson tugged her shades off. Sunset, soon enough, no need. Sunset and the return of the Raiders. Sliding back into her shoes, she leaned forward, peering through the windshield to the airfield perimeter fence and the crowds beyond. Families, and wives, waiting for the same as she, wondering. Who had lived?
Who had died?
Someone, perhaps more than one. The Major had reluctantly let it slip, feeling bad about the shut door at command center. He hadn't given names. His eyes had said enough. Had Rafe or Danny, or Rafe and Danny...Evelyn brushed the thought away, pushing the door open and climbing out, sorely aware of her protruding belly and the stares it would garnish. She didn't mind, felt proud in a mindless, adoring sort of way. She loved the child, loved him or her dearly, and knew Danny would as well. Her sacrifice of Rafe seemed almost acceptable with the little life she and Danny had made hanging in the balance. She would be happy with him. She would love him. She would...
Slamming the car door, she moved forward to the gate, watching the plane taxi down, a knot of dread working its way up her throat. The baby moved restlessly, and she placed both hands down, half to sooth and half to still the trembling of her fingers "Everything is just as it should be, kiddo...youe father is coming back to us." And he was, wasn't he? Rafe would have found a way to have told her otherwise...unless unable. She closed her eyes briefly, letting the light breeze calm her.
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant Johnson, but only spouses and authorized personnel can go past..." A sentry grabbed her arm, voice falling off as she met his gaze calmly.
"I saved your life, didn't I? One of those pilots has a new life of his own in here." She touched her stomach again, suppressing an absurdly improper smile at his chagrined look. "Let me by, will you?"
He moved aside, reluctantly, looking around to be sure noone had seen. Evelyn moved past, releasing the smile, watching the now still transports. Yes, the door was opening now...Doolittle, everyone's hero...Rafe. Involuntarily, the smile burgeoned. They always went into trouble together...
...and always suffered apart.
The smile fading, she met his gaze, reading into the rare solemnity, the darkness. He turned, lifting a coffin, oh, God no, Danny's flight jacket...
Somehow she moved forward, numbly, fingers digging into the material, warm material, material used for countless head rests and stripped from his back by her own hands countless times. A small, barely audible whimper escaped, and Rafe's arms took her in, hands stroking her hair, just as his friend had so many months before. "Evelyn." His voice was raw, raspy, as the coffin was moved away, the jacket left in her hands. "You drove?"
Dumbly, tiredly, she drew away, nodding towards the convertible, and he took her hand, leading the way past the press and subdued crowds. "The coffin'll be handled, Evelyn, they'll give him a hero's treatment. Where can I take you?"
"Anywhere." And she meant it. There were functions, of course, he was walikng away from diplomacy, and she had made reservations, for three...but why bother now?
They headed towards the coast, his hands white-nuckled on the steering wheel. "I don't know what to say to you. I've never been good at sorrow dances, those were Danny's..." His voice fell off. "He died taking bullets I never could've escaped...just had to prove once and for all that he could protect too. God, I'm sorry."
Her response was brief, steadied, as she ran cold fingers through her hair, eyes settling on the view. Looking at him could only be a mistake. "Was his end quick?"
Was his end quick? Rafe's mind flashed back...quick? Hell, no. Danny Walker's end had been the worst kind. "I told him. I shouldn't have, had no right to put that burden on a dying man's mind, but I told him, stupid...and no, he didn't die quick. No man would, knowing he was leaving a child behind. No man with half the decency he had..."
"He must have believed I was settling for him, because of the pregnancy..." The realization was incomprehensible, agonizing, and though she knew Rafe had never meant the harm, the thought that it might have come to harm in Danny's last moments nearly killed her. Straightening, she stared at him, searching for words, anything.
"I shouldn't have told him, it was the worst damned time..."
Evelyn couldn't disagree. She did lean over, touching his face, tracing the scars, the salty tears, the taunt muscle. "I care for you dearly, Rafe, but I wasn't settling."
"I know that." Parking the car on the beach, he met her gaze, sadly, wryly. "And if there's any truth whatsoever to that God he believed in, he does too."
"God was a casualty of war, I sometimes think." Leaning back, she observed the final tendrils of pink and gold crawl below the horizon, cold fingers knitting the flight leather on her lap.
His laughter was slow, drugged. "Oh, Ev'lyn, don't you go bitter on me like that. I need you back to your pretty, positive self. Your kind are the saving kind. Don't take salvation away."
"It hurts. I'm used to being able to heal. I'm not sure anyone can heal this wound."
"Not even that bump in your stomach?" Smiling briefly, he touched the small swell, hand gentle, warm. She soaked in the heat, eyes shuttering, teeth catching her lower lip briefly. "Danny Junior or Betty?"
She turned, hand closing over his. "Will you be there for us?"
"Always, Lieutenant. Always."
She nodded slowly, accepting the promise as was, friendship or...later...more. "I need for you to help me bury him. I..." She looked away. "I need your help raising his child. I can't do this alone, Rafe..."
Danny, you can't die...you know why? You're gonna be a father, Danny. You're going to be a Daddy...
No...you are.
Head aching, McCrawley considered, more calm than he would ever have anticipated. Maybe he was just too bone-tired to hold onto the jealousy. Maybe he was too ashamed. He let it go. "Do me a favor. Let the kid keep his name. No matter what the future brings...keep the name. It was all he had to give, the only thing I can't take away..."
Patting her stomach one last time, he moved aside, cranking the car. She nodded, smile small and sad.
They drove away from the sunset in silence.
Disclaimer: All characters herein owned by Touchstone Pictures, etc. No copyright infringement intended.
---
Author's Note: This could go solo, but I've also considered expanding it into more chapters, leading up to the finale scene with Danny Junior. Should I? Reviews needed...
---
Dry Your Eyes- Frank Sinatra
Dry your eyes, and take your song out, it's a newborn afternoon.
If you can't recall the singer, you can still recall the tune.
Dry your eyes and play it slowly, like you're marching off to war,
Sing it like you know he'd want it, like we sang it once before.
From the center of the circle to the midst of the waving crowd.
If it ever be forgotten, sing it long and sing it loud.
Come, dry your eyes.
And he taught us more about giving than we ever cared to know.
But we came to find the secret and we never let it go.
And it was more than being holy, though it was less than being free,
And if you can't recall the reason, can you hear the people sing,
Through the lightning and the thunder, to the dark side of the moon,
To that distant calling angel who descended much too soon.
And come, dry your eyes.
---
The silence was killing her.
Propping her elbow on the windowsill of Danny's freshly repaired little car...oh, the bullet holes and the memories they evoked...Evelyn Johnson tugged her shades off. Sunset, soon enough, no need. Sunset and the return of the Raiders. Sliding back into her shoes, she leaned forward, peering through the windshield to the airfield perimeter fence and the crowds beyond. Families, and wives, waiting for the same as she, wondering. Who had lived?
Who had died?
Someone, perhaps more than one. The Major had reluctantly let it slip, feeling bad about the shut door at command center. He hadn't given names. His eyes had said enough. Had Rafe or Danny, or Rafe and Danny...Evelyn brushed the thought away, pushing the door open and climbing out, sorely aware of her protruding belly and the stares it would garnish. She didn't mind, felt proud in a mindless, adoring sort of way. She loved the child, loved him or her dearly, and knew Danny would as well. Her sacrifice of Rafe seemed almost acceptable with the little life she and Danny had made hanging in the balance. She would be happy with him. She would love him. She would...
Slamming the car door, she moved forward to the gate, watching the plane taxi down, a knot of dread working its way up her throat. The baby moved restlessly, and she placed both hands down, half to sooth and half to still the trembling of her fingers "Everything is just as it should be, kiddo...youe father is coming back to us." And he was, wasn't he? Rafe would have found a way to have told her otherwise...unless unable. She closed her eyes briefly, letting the light breeze calm her.
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant Johnson, but only spouses and authorized personnel can go past..." A sentry grabbed her arm, voice falling off as she met his gaze calmly.
"I saved your life, didn't I? One of those pilots has a new life of his own in here." She touched her stomach again, suppressing an absurdly improper smile at his chagrined look. "Let me by, will you?"
He moved aside, reluctantly, looking around to be sure noone had seen. Evelyn moved past, releasing the smile, watching the now still transports. Yes, the door was opening now...Doolittle, everyone's hero...Rafe. Involuntarily, the smile burgeoned. They always went into trouble together...
...and always suffered apart.
The smile fading, she met his gaze, reading into the rare solemnity, the darkness. He turned, lifting a coffin, oh, God no, Danny's flight jacket...
Somehow she moved forward, numbly, fingers digging into the material, warm material, material used for countless head rests and stripped from his back by her own hands countless times. A small, barely audible whimper escaped, and Rafe's arms took her in, hands stroking her hair, just as his friend had so many months before. "Evelyn." His voice was raw, raspy, as the coffin was moved away, the jacket left in her hands. "You drove?"
Dumbly, tiredly, she drew away, nodding towards the convertible, and he took her hand, leading the way past the press and subdued crowds. "The coffin'll be handled, Evelyn, they'll give him a hero's treatment. Where can I take you?"
"Anywhere." And she meant it. There were functions, of course, he was walikng away from diplomacy, and she had made reservations, for three...but why bother now?
They headed towards the coast, his hands white-nuckled on the steering wheel. "I don't know what to say to you. I've never been good at sorrow dances, those were Danny's..." His voice fell off. "He died taking bullets I never could've escaped...just had to prove once and for all that he could protect too. God, I'm sorry."
Her response was brief, steadied, as she ran cold fingers through her hair, eyes settling on the view. Looking at him could only be a mistake. "Was his end quick?"
Was his end quick? Rafe's mind flashed back...quick? Hell, no. Danny Walker's end had been the worst kind. "I told him. I shouldn't have, had no right to put that burden on a dying man's mind, but I told him, stupid...and no, he didn't die quick. No man would, knowing he was leaving a child behind. No man with half the decency he had..."
"He must have believed I was settling for him, because of the pregnancy..." The realization was incomprehensible, agonizing, and though she knew Rafe had never meant the harm, the thought that it might have come to harm in Danny's last moments nearly killed her. Straightening, she stared at him, searching for words, anything.
"I shouldn't have told him, it was the worst damned time..."
Evelyn couldn't disagree. She did lean over, touching his face, tracing the scars, the salty tears, the taunt muscle. "I care for you dearly, Rafe, but I wasn't settling."
"I know that." Parking the car on the beach, he met her gaze, sadly, wryly. "And if there's any truth whatsoever to that God he believed in, he does too."
"God was a casualty of war, I sometimes think." Leaning back, she observed the final tendrils of pink and gold crawl below the horizon, cold fingers knitting the flight leather on her lap.
His laughter was slow, drugged. "Oh, Ev'lyn, don't you go bitter on me like that. I need you back to your pretty, positive self. Your kind are the saving kind. Don't take salvation away."
"It hurts. I'm used to being able to heal. I'm not sure anyone can heal this wound."
"Not even that bump in your stomach?" Smiling briefly, he touched the small swell, hand gentle, warm. She soaked in the heat, eyes shuttering, teeth catching her lower lip briefly. "Danny Junior or Betty?"
She turned, hand closing over his. "Will you be there for us?"
"Always, Lieutenant. Always."
She nodded slowly, accepting the promise as was, friendship or...later...more. "I need for you to help me bury him. I..." She looked away. "I need your help raising his child. I can't do this alone, Rafe..."
Danny, you can't die...you know why? You're gonna be a father, Danny. You're going to be a Daddy...
No...you are.
Head aching, McCrawley considered, more calm than he would ever have anticipated. Maybe he was just too bone-tired to hold onto the jealousy. Maybe he was too ashamed. He let it go. "Do me a favor. Let the kid keep his name. No matter what the future brings...keep the name. It was all he had to give, the only thing I can't take away..."
Patting her stomach one last time, he moved aside, cranking the car. She nodded, smile small and sad.
They drove away from the sunset in silence.