Unanswered Question

"What would you do if I was dying? Would you hold me and let me die in your arms, or would you just let me lay there and bleed?"

B.J. leaned back and closed his eyes as the plane engine droned. He should be thinking about his wife and daughter, the fact that he was finally, finally flying home to rejoin his family after far too many days and weeks and months away. He should be feeling elated at the thought of holding them in his arms again. But instead he was feeling strangely empty—his arms were empty, and it seemed like just a second ago they were wrapped around his best friend. He could still feel the pressure against his chest, Hawk's hand on his head... he could still feel them both trembling a little, hanging onto each other with a peculiar mix of relief, sadness and fear. Sadness because they were leaving one another, but why fear, he couldn't quite say. They got out of that hell alive, both of them, and they should've been leaving emotions like fear behind, like the dismantled Swamp. This was a time to celebrate, not dwell on the pain they had endured, the horror and death...

"What would you do if I was dying? Would you hold me and let me die in your arms, or would you just let me lay there and bleed?"

That blunt, heartbreaking question haunted him. Hawkeye had known the answer, B.J. was sure of it. But apparently he also needed to hear it. And did you actually answer him? No, 'course not. Too busy averting and evading. The truth was too fragile, the feelings too raw and the moment too heavy. Everything was easier if we kept it light. One tiny slip, one second of blinding honesty might lead them down a path best left untaken. Don't go that way, Hawk, we'd only get lost.

I'd only get lost.

"You've got a lot to learn about messing up your life."

How long ago did he say that? It was when he was with Carlye, and B.J. was giving him the morality lecture, and Hawkeye was just being Hawkeye, reckless and hedonistic. Seize the day, right? That was him. Scratch that itch, follow that desire, even if you end up brokenhearted in the end. Which is, of course, exactly what had happened to Hawk. Ask him, though: was it worth it? You bet it was, he'd say. Love is always worth it.

B.J. looked out the plane window and found he couldn't really remember his wife's face. Not exactly, not every little detail. But he could picture black-gray hair and blue eyes, a beaming smile and a hearty laugh. He could feel a brush of arm against arm, a casual touch to his shoulder or back. He had no trouble remembering the warmth of that goodbye embrace, he kind of felt like it was still happening, the memory was that fresh. He shook his head. What the hell is the matter with you? You're going home, for God's sake. Wife, daughter... remember? California sunshine, no more bombs going off in the distance, no more wounded paraded before you for hours on end, no more blood, no more tears.

Except... He closed his eyes again, because, dammit, tears were threatening. For a loss he couldn't quite articulate. Best friend, sure. The guy I've been living with for years, check. The sole person who got me through that experience with my sanity intact, yes. Fellow scamp, joker, Swampmate, shoulder to cry on, goofball who could always find a way to make me laugh. Hawkeye was all of that, you bet. But this emptiness in B.J.'s chest—this ache—was telling him there was much more to it than that. Those moments in Hawk's arms just now (wait? Was it really a couple hours ago already?) brought something into focus that had always been just slightly to the left of his line of sight. He hadn't realized it at the time, but with that hug, his entire world had shifted.

A lightning bolt, a realization at the worst possible time, when it was too late to do anything about it. It'd probably been just below the surface for a while now, but suddenly it was rising to the top with a galvanizing force. A kind of panic took hold of him and he gripped the armrest hard. Jesus, what's going on here? Can I go back in time and try that again? Can I go back to him and figure this out? No, it's too late... it's over. He's heading home and I'm heading home and we're going to have an entire country between us. The feeling of loss was so intense that B.J. felt for a second like the plane was plummeting before realizing it was actually his heart. "Dammit," he whispered, not even aware he was speaking out loud.

He covered his eyes with his hand, knowing there was no way to stop the tears now.

"What would you do if I was dying?"

I would die right along with you. A part of me is dying now.