Ben knows, deep down, that going to the moon is almost definitely a suicide mission. He doesn't want to admit it to anyone else, but it's true.
It's not that big of a deal for him, except Dad will be there, too. He wishes that someone else had been picked to go with him. Anyone else, really, except Hal.
The thing that bothers him most, though, is that there are things he never got to say to his brothers. And his dad, for that matter, if somehow only one of them survives.
Ben scrounges up a pencil and some paper and writes, wiping his eyes every once in a while. It's harder than he thought, figuring out the last things that he would want to tell the people he loves most, but he writes anyway, three letters that the seals with some tape. He scrawls Hal's name on one, Matt's one on the last, and Dad on the final one.
"Can I talk to you for a second, Weaver?" Ben finds himself in front of the only person he would trust to do this.
"Sure," Weaver says, resting a hand on Ben's shoulder and leading him towards a secluded place.
"I need you to do me a favor," Ben says, fingering the letters under his jacket. It's kinda surreal. He's asking for a favor for when he dies later this week.
"Nobody's gonna think less of you if you don't want to go," Weaver says, and Ben can tell he's trying not to smile.
"It's not that." Ben takes a deep breath and hands Weaver the letters. "If I don't come back, will you deliver these for me? Please?"
Weaver doesn't say anything, just takes the letters and pulls Ben close. Ben is startled, but relaxes into the embrace.
"You're a good kid," he murmurs in Ben's ear.
Weaver tucks the letters into his jacket with a heavy heart, pats Ben's face, and goes to put the letters somewhere secure, just in case. They're surprisingly heavy, considering they're just three little pieces of paper.