"You must be BJ Hunnicut." Daniel Pierce reached a hand out, clapping it around the hand of the man in front of him. "He'll be glad you came."
BJ nodded, glancing up and down the hallway at the bustling activity. "How is he?"
"He's good, he's not in much pain." Daniel began to walk away, leaving BJ to assume he was to follow. Reaching a corner, the elder man turned right. "He's content, to say in the least, but he hasn't got --" His breath hitched. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "He hasn't got much time left."
BJ nodded. "I took the first flight I could, non-stop to Boston. Trapper nearly broke the sound barrier speeding to get here."
Daniel looked around. "Trapper's here?"
"He's parking the car. Said he'd ask around at the reception desk and meet us in the room." BJ smiled at a passing nurse, lifting a hand in greeting. "Are the others here yet?"
"Sherman Potter's flight is due in at any time now. He's coming straight here, where we'll meet up with him. I tried to tell him that there was no need for a plane, that he could drive. A man in his condition --" Daniel shook his head. "But who am I to talk, I'm hardly younger than the man myself." They turned left, into a brightly painted hallway smelling strongly of disinfectant. "Father Mulcahy's been here since early this morning, met up with me at the house. He's sitting with Hawkeye now. I think the two are trying to talk, but I can't see how. Took me ages to figure out who the man was, with all his hand waving." Daniel weakly smiled. "I contacted the Winchesters and the son thinks he'll be able to make it out soon."
"What about Klinger and Margaret?"
"He's trying to get away. Says he needs to arrange for a flight and for someone to watch the over the kids, and then he's on his way out after he talks with his wife. Soon-Lee, is it?"
"That's the one." They stopped before a large wooden door with a small plaque on it reading '202: Pierce, B.F.' in tiny white letters.
"I couldn't get a hold of Mrs. Scully, seems Hawkeye doesn't have her most recent address."
"I've got Margaret's number somewhere. I'll call her up later, if you want."
Daniel nodded. "That'd be great if you could." Exhaustion written all over his face, he pushed down on the door and gave a big shove until it creaked open. "I must warn you," Daniel whispered, stopping BJ from walking in, "his appearance might shock you at first."
BJ nodded and stepped into the room.
Accustomed to the gentle humming of hospital machinery, he hardly noticed the beeping equipment attached to Hawkeye by various tubes and wires. The taut yellow face caught his attention first, wrinkled with dark bags surrounding the sunken eyes. His once sparkling blue eyes had faded to a dull color, the twinkle in them gone. His bony hands, surgeon hands, lay lifeless at his side. BJ glanced at the blanket tightly wrapped around his friend, wondering if the skinny frame beneath it could possibly be anything more than a skeleton.
He had to admit, Hawkeye looked worn and beaten, like a old rag drying in the wind.
"Hey, Hawk." He muttered softly. Daniel appeared at his side, smiling down at his son in the bed.
Hawkeye's eyes turned from the priest sitting behind him, taking an unusually long time to focus on the man before him. "Hey, Beej. You made it." Weakly, he smiled.
BJ grinned back, fighting the lump building in his throat. "Of course I did. Trapper too. He'll be up in a minute." He glanced over to where Father Mulcahy sat, eyes darting back and forth, trying to catch all of the exchange he could. "You look good, Father."
A slight nod and wave hello was his only answer.
"Why don't I see if I can go track down Trapper? Father, care to join me?" Beckoning to the priest, Daniel turned and quickly left, Father Mulcahy on his heels.
BJ sighed and lowered himself into a chair nearby. "It's good to see you again, Hawkeye."
He laughed, bitterly. "Even like this? Stuck in a bed with all these tubes going in and out of me?" BJ remained silent, unsure of what to say. "I tried to get Dad to sneak me in a record player, something to fight the boredom, but he --" Hawkeye cut off, looking away. "I'm glad you're here, Beej."
"I wouldn't miss it." BJ replied, the serious tone in his voice strong.
"I know. Thank you." Hawkeye closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. "I'm so tired, just so tired."
BJ made to stand up. "Should I leave? Maybe you should nap or --"
"No, please." Hawkeye opened his eyes, and struggled to raise a hand high enough to halt his friend. When he realized BJ had no intent to leave he laid his hand back down. A moment passed before he spoke again. "I know just what's going on. I'm a doctor, I know everything they're doing to me, I know I don't have long. I feel so helpless, knowing just what's going on with my body, but having no power to stop it."
BJ merely nodded, words unnecessary.
"Beej?"
"I'm here Hawk."
"In case I don't get time to talk to you alone again --"
"Not yet." BJ cleared his throat, blinking away the tears forming in his eyes. "We'll have time."
Hawkeye smiled. "You never did say good-bye." He paused, thinking for a moment. "You can't leave a note with something like this."
"I know, I just --" BJ faltered, running a hand through his hair. "Not yet."
Hawkeye nodded, a motion so slight BJ almost missed it. As he nodded he stared at BJ, watching him with an intensity he rarely ever possessed. A minute or two passed in silence before Hawkeye worked out, "I don't regret anything. Not even the war. There's something to be said about a life without regrets, isn't there?"
"There's the world to be said for it." BJ smiled, genuine.
Hawkeye seemed to be debating something, thinking something over. "Promise me one thing?"
BJ readily agreed, willing to promise all he could to the man dying before his eyes.
"When you turn fifty, you'll drink twice as much a celebrate for me? I know it's a ways away yet, but I always wondered how I'd be at fifty and now --" He didn't continue, having no need to.
"Of course."
The door barged open, and a grinning Trapper strolled in. Nearing the bed, he glanced down at where Hawkeye laid and said, quite plainly, "Hawk, you look like hell."
Hawkeye slowly turned his head, smiling the moment he caught sight of the tall Bostonian. "You should talk."
"At least I can." Trapper shot back, imitating the raspy voice.
"Touche." Hawkeye's face broke into a grin as he struggled to pull himself up into a sitting position. "Trap, I'm glad you're here."
The smile faded from Trapper's face at this. Gravely serious, he nodded. "Wouldn't miss it for anything." He sat down in the chair besides BJ and clapped his hands together. "Now then, where are we in the catching up department?"
"Not much to catch up with. I just saw you two clowns last year." Hawkeye suddenly seemed more alive than when BJ had first arrived, a fact they all were thankful for.
"Well, I, for one, have met a beautiful new nurse. Works in the hospital with me, and she's single." Trapper began yet another tale of his exploits in love, this time one BJ heard the entire drive to Maine. He didn't care, glad for the distraction and the way the story seemed to bring color to Hawkeye's face. Together, the three swapped stories of loves won and lost, the occasional anecdote thrown in. The time passed by in record speed, and the next thing they knew, Daniel and Father Mulcahy were returning from their coffee break in the hospital cafeteria, Sherman Potter in tow.
"Glad you're sitting up." Daniel said, interrupting the three doctors. "Brought you some tea and a visitor."
Hawkeye, far past simple exhaustion, fought to keep his eyes open long enough to see who it was. Weakly, he rasped out, "Potter."
"Looking well, son." Potter stepped forward to clasp a bony hand over a bony hand in a feeble shake. The man, BJ noted, looked hardly different than when they had separated in Ouijabou twelve years ago. His hairline seemed to be slightly receding and there were a considerably amount more of age spots than before, but overall the seventy-five year old seemed well.
"How's the heart?"
Potter tapped his chest, replying, "The ol' bum-ticker's still bum-tickering, if that's what you mean."
Father Mulcahy spoke up, moving his hands along with every word he said. "Seems Hawkeye could do with a bit of a rest. Maybe we should leave him be for awhile, and go grab a bit of dinner in the meantime?"
Daniel tapped on the priest's shoulder and made a jerky motion with his hand. At the questioning look of the others he added, "He tells me that means 'yes'."
BJ turned to look at Hawkeye, who lay half asleep already. "That alright with you?"
He merely nodded.
Trapper groaned as he stood up. "I'll sneak you back a steak, Hawk. Bigger than your stomach."
Hawkeye grinned. "See you, then."
Daniel leaned over and softly placed a kiss on his son's forehead. "We'll hurry back."
As they all made to leave, reluctance obvious in the slow pace they moved at, BJ caught sight of Father Mulcahy making a tiny crossing gesture over Hawkeye. For a split second, one terrifying moment, BJ swore he could see the breath literally leave Hawkeye, but calmed down at the reassuring beeping of the machines that declared their patient alive.
He quietly shut the door behind him.
***
"Well," BJ interrupted, sliding into the booth beside Trapper. "I called Margaret and finally got through. Scully sends his best by the way. I told her the whole story. Apparently her and Hawkeye haven't talked since he went around last year telling everyone he was sick. She's on her way now, though, halfway to the nearest plane as we speak."
Potter jabbed at the piece of broccoli on his plate that refused to be speared. "She bringing Scully?"
BJ grinned. "Can't. He's got to stay at home to watch the kid."
Trapper coughed on his coffee as Potter dropped his fork. Daniel looked up sharply.
"Kid?"
BJ nodded. "Six months ago they adopted this little girl. Figured it wouldn't interrupt Margaret's army career, and seeing as Scully can't have kids in the first place, it was the only option. The child's, get this, Korean."
Potter laughed, an echoing boisterous laugh. "Well if that don't take the cake!"
"Leave it to Margaret." Trapper shook his head.
As Daniel prodded the oblivious Father, writing down the exchange so he could know what was being said, he replied, "Fine by me. Everyone deserves a child or two, nothing in the world like children."
Father Mulcahy grinned as he read, looking over at the others. "Good thing for Margaret to do, take in a child with no one else in the world."
Trapper leaned over to BJ, whispering, "No matter what you say, it still gets to me that he can talk to us, but he can't hear when we talk to him."
Daniel took a sip from his mug, looking around the dingy diner. "Hawkeye'll be glad she can make it. He was really getting worried he wouldn't be able to see her before --" He stopped, turning his eyes to the chipped table.
"We know how Hawkeye's doing," Potter leaned forward, intense, "But how are you?"
"I'm doing better than I expected. I just --" Daniel waved a hand, searching for the words to explain it. "After my wife died, all those years ago, Hawkeye was all I had. And now he's -- I just never thought I'd have to go through another loss like that again." He pauses, clearing his throat and blinking his eyes an unusual amount. "No parent should out-live their child."
Trapper coughed. "No, they shouldn't."
Potter and BJ exchanged glances, thinking of their own children, unable to comprehend the pain these two men were in every day.
Left out of the conversation as usual, but used to it, Father Mulcahy could sense the sudden shift in topic. Quickly, aware of the look on Daniel's face, he broke in. "Margaret's on here way, then, but what of Klinger and Charles Winchester?"
Daniel cleared his throat again and picked up a pen, writing on the tablet the Father carried with him. As he wrote, he told the others, "Klinger should be coming in within the next hour or two. He's meeting us back at the house since visiting hours are almost up. I called Boston again and the Winchesters informed me that Charles is on his way at the moment, jumping into a car the instant he knew he was free to go."
BJ quickly thought, planning. "He'll head on over to the house, he's got a basic idea of hospital hours working in one himself. Margaret should be getting in around nine tonight, I'll go and pick her up from the airport myself if you'll lend me the car, Trapper."
"I'll go with you. Can't wait to see ol' Hot Lips myself."
Daniel nodded. "That'd be just fine. At that time of the night the trip should only take an hour and a half. In the meantime the rest of us can set up the house for all of you. I'm afraid there won't be much room, but we'll all squeeze in."
"Sleeping in the dirt would be fine with me, I'm grateful you're even putting us all up." Potter set down his coffee mug. "We better head on out, we haven't got much time to wish Hawkeye good-night before hours are up."
They all began to quickly gather their coats and possessions, splitting up the bill in record time. Acting as if they had no time to waste, the five rapidly headed down the street to the hospital, eager to be with Hawkeye as much as they could, while they still had the time.
***
They entered the house without knocking, positive no one would mind.
"Honey!" Trapper called out into the living room, "I'm home!" He held the door open as BJ and Margaret made their way in, shutting it quickly to insure the insects stayed outside where they belonged. Music blared from the other room, accompanied by the sound of chatter and laughter.
Daniel peered around the doorway, and waved a hand in greeting. "You must be Margaret Scully!" He ducked back into the room for a moment and the music shut off. "I'm Daniel Pierce, Hawkeye's father."
Margaret nodded. "It's great to finally meet you. I just wish it were under better circumstances." She followed BJ into the adjoining room, smiling in greeting at the others sitting there. Trapper made his way to the nearby record player and began to search for a record to play.
Potter stood up and was immediately tightly embraced by Margaret. "Margaret! It's good to see you too, but you're squeezing the air right out of me!" She jerked back, apologizing.
"Margaret, glad to see you are in good health."
"You two Charles." A beat. "Where's your hair?"
BJ and Trapper shared a glance, hiding their snickers behind hands.
"Age catches up with the best of us, Margaret, and I'll hardly say you were an exception." Charles smugly replied, and returned to the book he held, pointing out a certain passage to Father Mulcahy.
BJ had to agree with Charles. Twelve years had certainly left their mark on each and every one of them. Wrinkles stood out sharply on Margaret's face, Klinger's black hair lay heavily streaked with gray, Charles seemed to be even more bald then ever, and the Father's hair lay completely white. Trapper had his own share of laugh lines and gray hairs and BJ knew he too was not without age signs.
Margaret turned away from Charles, nodding her hello to Klinger. He glanced up from the pictures of his family he was showing Trapper for the thirs time. She smiled down at Father Mulcahy. "Hello Father, it's great to see you."
He went on, nodding at the words Charles pointed to him.
"Father?"
He shook his head, pointing to a certain line.
"Father Mulcahy?" Gently, she touched his shoulder. Jumping up, he looked around, eyes brightening when he saw her.
"Margaret! When did you get here?"
The others chuckled as she shook her head calmly and held a hand out to greet the priest.
Daniel stood up. "It's getting a little late for this old man, I believe I'll turn in. I want to make an early start out to the hospital in the morning." He headed for the door, saying all the while, "Margaret, you can take the guest room. That's the third down the hall. Sherman, I'm sure it would be alright if you took Hawkeye's old room, and Father Mulcahy can take the cot set up in there. That would leave you four," He gestured towards BJ, Trapper, Klinger and Charles, "here. There's a pile of bedding down the hall in the closet, feel free to take what ever you need. One of you can take the couch, but I'm afraid the floor is all we have for the unlucky other three."
BJ waved the elder man on. "That'll do just fine. I've slept in worse."
Daniel looked unconvinced but let the matter rest. "Good-night, you all. I'll see you at breakfast."
Potter stood up, yawning. "I think I'll head on up too. Father?"
Charles tapped the priest, pointing to a few sporadic words in the book to communicate what was going on. Nodding, Father Mulcahy pulled himself up. "Good-night, all, and God bless."
"Good-night."
The three men disappeared around the corner, their footfalls echoing away.
"As much as I'd love to stay up talking with you all, I'm exhausted." Margaret headed towards the doorway. Pausing, she turned back to the others. "How is he?"
BJ shrugged. "He's hanging on by a thread."
Margaret nodded, absentminded. "Well, good-night then."
As she quietly made her way up the stairs, Charles set his book down, spreading out on the couch. "Now, Gentlemen, I'm sure you won't mind if I take the couch for the night?" He paused, ignoring the protests of the other three men. "No? Well that's settled then."
Grumbling, Klinger, BJ, and Trapper made their way into the hallway, pulling out pillows and sheets, and wasted no time throwing a few at Charles's head when they returned.
***
"I can't -- I can't say how glad I am that you all managed to --" Hawkeye cut off, emotion and weakness taking the words from his mouth.
"Don't try to use all your strength, Pierce." Margaret quickly chided, ever the nurse.
Hawkeye weakly grinned.
"Well," Charles turned from where he stood, inspecting every inch of the room, "It's certainly no Boston Mercy, but I'm sure it's alright for you."
"I've missed you too, Charles."
Klinger peered at the nearest machine, looking around at it.
"Klinger, what on earth are you doing?" Potter said, craning his neck to see the man fully.
"I told you last night all about my job in electronics. I'm just doing research."
Potter raised a finger, threatening. "You lay one hand on that and I swear I'll break it clear off."
Daniel grinned to himself. He could see why, all those years ago, Hawkeye would send home letters gushing about these people, his friends. They were a nice bunch, wonderful to have around, and he was sure that, had he the time, he would grow to love each and everyone of these people as much as his son did.
Trapper leaned over to BJ, whispering suspiciously to both him and Hawkeye. The three broke out in quiet laughter, shooting glances at Margaret who stood a few feet away, wary.
When Hawkeye began to cough, struggling to breathe, the laughter quickly died down. Daniel was amazed at how quickly the room full of life-long doctors and a nurse sprang into action, checking a pulse, his airway, the machines, and holding him until the coughing died down. Unfortunately, Daniel was too used to these spasms to take much concern.
It was when Father Mulcahy, talking and signing with his hands as usual, suggested they leave Hawkeye to get some much needed rest, that they began to remember how sick their friend was. All nine of them had been crammed into the small room, talking and laughing, remembering and reminding, all morning and a few hours into the afternoon. It was agreed and they began to leave when Hawkeye managed to get the strength and air to protest.
"No! I -- I'm fine, I just -- don't go, just a few minutes more --" They all halted as one, turning to catch the panic in Hawkeye's eyes.
"Son," Daniel began, "You really need your rest you --"
"Please, there's so much I have to say, I need to say, before it's too late I --"
They looked around at each other, helpless.
"So many of us is sure to be over-whelming." Charles finally broke in. "But I'm sure if we were here one at a time, that would be just --"
"Yes, yes, that! I just want to talk to you each, a few minutes, then I'll rest all you want."
Daniel finally relented. "Not too long." He was pleased to see the other doctors and the lone nurse agreed with him.
"I'll stay." Klinger volunteered. "The rest of you can go get some coffee in the cafeteria, bring me up a cup?"
They agreed and left, as Klinger lowered himself onto the chair beside Hawkeye's head.
A few moments pass in silence before Hawkeye finally speaks. "How are the kids? Soon-Lee?"
"They're good, really well." Klinger shifts in his seat.
"That's good, that's -- that's really good." Hawkeye takes in a shallow breath, deciding to go full force ahead. It was now or literally never. "Klinger, I just wanted to let you know --"
"I'll miss you. And think of you a lot. Maybe name a kid after you if we have another." Klinger glanced down to his shoes. "And I hope you aren't in pain."
"You don't beat around any bushes, do you?"
"I'm not taking any chances."
Hawkeye nods. "Then, in the respect, let me say something to you Klinger. You are one of the finest, most unique and loyal people I know. It was really an honor to know you, and, well, I always have thought of you as a friend. I just thought you should know how good of a person you really are."
Klinger nodded. "You too, Hawk. You're going to be missed."
"I suppose I will."
***
"Margaret, please. Save the tears for later. I'm trying to tell you how much you mean to me!"
Margaret struggled to get something out through her tears, sounding as if she were a gurgling fish instead.
Hawkeye blinked. He was getting tired now, so very tired. "Margaret, listen to me, if you can. You are a fine woman. Strong, but loving, always with a comforting hand. During the war you meant a lot to me. Your strength kept me going on more than one occasion, and I regret not talking to you more over the years. I hope you're -- I hope you're happy with Scully, you deserve it."
Finally she managed to calm down. "I am, I really am."
"Good. You're dependable, but loveable, I hope you know, and in some small way I think I loved you." Margaret's head snapped up. "Oh, no, not like that, nothing like that. It's like I always said, we were much too different. But you were like a sister to me, a friend, a mother even. Either way I loved you, and I wanted you to know." Hawkeye fought to suppress the exhaustion.
"I loved you too, Pierce -- Hawkeye. I've missed you over the years and I --" She began to cry again.
He was getting so tired.
***
"Charles, will you shut up and let me be poetic and morbid on my death bed?"
Charles looked indignant and shamed at the same time. "Honestly, Pierce, should you be --"
"I didn't think you'd come. I thought you'd stay in Boston."
"I thought I would too, almost." Charles admits. "But I couldn't, when it came right down to it I just couldn't. I found myself viewing you as something akin to a friend and when I learned of your illness last year I was distressed. Your father's phone call only proved my --" Charles nearly shuddered, "-- devotion to you as a friend, and I had to come on up as soon as I could."
Hawkeye would roll his eyes if he could find the strength. "You, Charles, are egotistical, self-centered, callous, bigoted, and sometimes downright cruel. But you are, in essence, a good man. Try as I might I never could forget you. And believe me, I tried with all my might."
"Even death cannot spare me your wit, I see." Suddenly, realizing what he is saying, Charles stopped, eyes widening.
"It's alright, Charles. I know I'm dying."
Charles nodded. "It pains me to say this Pierce, and if I ever find out you told another soul I'll make sure you never rest in peace, but --" He glanced around, leaning in. "I'll miss you, and I am glad to have known you." Quickly, he jerked back.
"I'm glad I knew you too." A beat. "Charlie."
***
"Father, I wish you could hear me."
Father Mulcahy nodded, understanding what was being said without hearing the words. "I know what you would say, Hawkeye, and I think it's grand. I just want you to know what you meant to my life, instead. You were an inspiration to man, and I must say, you were one of the most individual individuals I ever met. Your love for your fellow man was a shinning example of how great a man you were and I am proud to say I knew you once. The Lord graced me with your presence in my life and -- well, I can't rightfully express what you meant. But I thank you."
Hawkeye's breath hitched, and this time it wasn't due to his weak state. Carefully he tapped the Father, pointed to the man, and held up two fingers, slowly and deliberately.
Father Mulcahy swiped a tears away, and mumbled out, "That means a lot to me, thank you."
The Father began to cross himself, muttering a prayer.
***
"Now hold up there, I --"
"Potter, if you'd just let me --"
"I'd rather I --"
"I'm tired and weak." Hawkeye cut in. "Just let me talk so I can go to sleep." Potter reluctantly agreed.
He paused, gathering his thoughts. "Potter, you are a dear, sweet old man and I loved you like my own father. You were an anchor when I needed one the most and I could never repay you for that. It's that simple. No long speeches, no eloquent words. You meant a lot to me, and I am grateful to have known you. You are a great man."
Potter nodded. "You took the words right out of my mouth. You always looked out for the underdog, and, well, I wish we hadn't wasted those ten years out of touch."
Hawkeye tried to shrug, failing. "It's the only thing I regret."
"Can I ask you something, Hawkeye?"
"Yes?"
"Can you -- can you send Mildred my love for me? And tell Radar I say hello?" A tear began to fall, making it's lone trek down the elder man's cheek.
"Of course, Potter."
"Please, call me Sherm."
***
"I'll drink a martini a day in memoriam."
Hawkeye looked on, skeptic. "You'll drink a martini a day for the sake of drinking not for me."
"No, I'll drink three a day for me. One for you."
Hawkeye softly laughed.
Trapper smiled down at the wasted man before him. "You look like you have three hangovers all rolled into one."
"That's sort of what I feel like." Hawkeye paused. "I hated you for so long."
"I like you too." Trapper replied, stunned.
"You just left behind, stuck in Korea, without even a note. I couldn't not hate you for it."
"Hawk, we went through this, eleven years ago. Then last year. Then six months ago."
"I don't blame you, though."
"I know."
Hawkeye looked away, unable to turn his head to do so. "I could kick myself for not being there for those ten years. For any of you. When Beej told me about Becky --"
"It's okay."
"No it's not. I hate myself for it. You needed me most and I wasn't there, and I'm sorry."
Trapper nodded, solemn. "I forgive you."
"You are one of the most important people in my life Trap."
"I'll miss you every day, Hawk."
"You're a great man, the best, and without you I --"
"I know, Hawkeye. Let's just -- let's just say goodbye and joke while we still can."
Hawkeye couldn't help but agree.
***
"Beej."
"Hawk."
"It's later, Beej."
"I know. Hawk."
Hawkeye fought to stay awake. "Just say goodbye, please."
"You mean more than I can ever say, Hawkeye. I'll think of you ever day, until I'm senile and can't even remember my own name."
"Say it, Beej."
BJ leaned in, and whispered, quietly. "I love you."
"I love you too, BJ. You're my best friend. Closer than that. We saw the hell of our lives together and lived through it. You were my lifeline for awhile, longer than you know, I think."
"I knew." BJ's breath hitched. "I'm going to miss you."
Hawkeye, having managed to talk to all the others without so much as a wavering word, began to cry then, too weak to sob like he wanted.
"Hawkeye?"
"BJ?"
"Goodbye, Hawkeye."
"Goodbye, BJ."
***
"Dad? I --"
"I know, son." Daniel was silent a moment, then struggled to talk around the lump in his throat. "Hawkeye -- Ben, I --"
"I know."
***
"Peg?" BJ gripped the pay phone, staring around at the people passing him by.
"BJ? Honey, is that you?"
At the sound of her voice, BJ finally let himself break loose. Sobbing quietly, calmly, he whispered, "Peg?"
"Oh, BJ . . . "
"He went really peacefully. Just fell asleep." BJ gulped for air, unable to stop the wave of tears. "I think it's what he wanted."
"Are you alright, dear?"
BJ began to shake. Honestly, plainly, he replied, "No, not I'm not. I miss him already."
"When will you be home?"
"The funeral's in a few days, and Daniel's asked us to stay. I think I will. Then we'll go over the will. I'll be home by Saturday."
"Darling, I'm so sorry."
BJ sank to the floor, still clutching the phone. "I am too. Dear God, Peg, I am too." He began to sob harder, sobs the racked his whole body combined with tears the soaked his shirt front.
Goodbye, Hawk.