From his hiding place beneath the table, he watched as pairs of solemn shoes shuffled by, their owners muttering in hushed whispers, straining uncomfortably to breathe while dressed in their Sunday best. His eyes narrowed as he listened, over and over again, to how horrible of a tragedy it all was, how sad and sorry everyone was over the whole situation. He turned his head sharply as the tablecloth moved, emitting another young boy.

"I knew I'd find you here."

Hawkeye glared, determined to stay silent until he was left alone.

"Your dad's getting worried. He sent me to look for you." Tommy shifted, making himself comfortable. "I knew it was too cold for even you outside, and you'd never go hide in the closet, because then you'd get all funny again and wouldn't be able to breathe." He grinned. "You're getting too predictable, Hawk."

Hawkeye stared ahead, seemingly engrossed in the feet before him.

"Mrs. Solomon brought her famous peach cobbler. I could sneak you a piece if you want."

Finally, long last, Hawkeye spoke. "I'm not hungry."

"I could go get some cards and we could --"

"No."

Tommy nodded. "Then we'll sit here."

And so they did, surround by the sounds of quieted conversations and condolences. After a moment, unable to take the sounds any longer, Hawkeye gestured out into the room.

"Look at them, all of them. Stuffed into their clothes, parading around the room like they're on show. None of them care, not really." He tugged at the collar of his shirt. "She hated getting all fussed up for no reason. I don't blame her now, I can't even breathe in this outfit. She would have hated --" He stops.

Tommy shrugged. "It's for respect, I guess."

Hawkeye ignored him, continuing on. "I hate this."

"I know."

He turned, quickly, staring his friend in the eye. "No, you don't." Hawkeye looked away, his voice breaking. "She shouldn't be in some stupid box, in some stupid ground, with a stupid piece of stone and a name all that's left of her. She shouldn't be --" He roughly dragged a hand across his cheek. "She shouldn't have left me."

"My mom says she's in a better place now." Tommy reached a hand out, lightly clasping Hawkeye's shoulder. "That at least she doesn't hurt like she did."

He pushed the hand away. "Big deal. If those stupid doctors did what they were supposed to, she wouldn't have been in pain at all. Why send her to the hospital if they aren't going to do anything for her?" Hawkeye glanced up, catching the other boy's eye. "One day, I'll be a doctor, and I'll work in a hospital, just like those guys, except I'll actually make my patients better. I'll actually help them."

"I'll visit you after I write my first book."

"Promise?"

"Promise." Tommy smiled. "Friends forever, remember? We signed the pact, friends for always."

Hawkeye smiles back. "I don't think I can take one more stuffy adult pinching my cheeks and saying 'You poor sweet dear, I'm so sorry'." He paused. "Why are they sorry, anyway? They didn't do anything."

"Just one of those things adults say, I guess. Like 'I'm fine' and 'You're looking good', when they don't mean it."

"I miss her." Hawkeye said, softly.

"I know. I do too." Tommy replied, biting at his thumb. "If you want, I'll share my mom with you."

Hawkeye blinked, surprised. "You'd do that?"

Tommy nodded. "She's a good mom, you're welcome to use her whenever you need one."

For a second, he sat silent, thinking it over. "No thanks. It wouldn't be the same."

"You'll always have me for a best bud."

"Thanks, Tommy."

Tommy began to crawl over to the side of the table. "I better go tell your dad I found you, before he worries anymore." He looked back. "You've still got a really good dad."

"I know." Hawkeye shifted, making his way over to where Tommy was. "I'll come with you. I think I want some of the cobbler now."

"You still sad?"

Hawkeye nodded. "Yeah, but it's a better sad now."

"Good."