(a/n) And number four! We get to see Hal and Tom in this one. I'm kind of excited to see how that turns out. Poor Tom. I wonder how he's reacting.
Tom Mason sat on his cot with his head in his hands, waterfalls threatening to pour from his eyes. He and Hal hadn't noticed that Matt was missing until after dark, when the Second Mass had settled down to camp for the night – much too late for a search party, Weaver had determined. Even if they had gone looking for Matt against his will, Tom knew it would have hardly proved successful; it was much too dark. First thing the next morning, though, Tom and Hal had mounted bikes along with the usual recon team and driven at least twenty-five miles out in different directions to look for any sign of the missing nine-year-old. Oddly enough, Pope had come along too, as well as half the berserkers. He understood why Tector felt the need to come – he still felt guilty about putting Matt's life in danger – and Tom knew the other berserkers felt obliged to, seeing as Tom was their new leader, but Pope tagging along was just plain weird. Was he trying to make up for what he'd done?
What did it matter anyway? Everyone had searched everywhere until sunset, and still no Matt. He wasn't anywhere. The only thing anyone had found was signs of a struggle; a dead man who looked as though he had been choked to death, and not far off was his sobbing girlfriend. She had been distraught and they had brought her back to camp to recuperate.
Tom rubbed his throbbing temples. Two days since Ben had left, two days since Matt had gone missing. It was obvious that Matt had followed Ben, but beyond that, Tom didn't know a thing. He could only hope that Matt had found Ben – Ben would take care of Matt, and most likely take him back to safety – but he knew it was unlikely. There were so many things out there even besides skitters, and when Tom thought about little, frightened Matt out there all by himself, it brought a fresh wave of tears to his eyes. He had known Ben was leaving. He had been prepared for that – as prepared as he could be, anyway. He had known it would be hard, but he had been bracing himself. He had still bawled like a baby, though, saying goodbye.
And who could blame him? That was his little boy, his baby, his son – from the moment Ben had first been the whisper of a thought in his mind until the day he, Tom, died (which he sincerely hoped was well before all his children did,) he was going to love Ben with all his heart. And when he had finally come to accept the fact that Ben was leaving, it had felt like someone had ripped out his heart – it felt almost the same as when he had lost Rebecca. He had known Ben could handle himself, though, and that, no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't protect his children forever, and he would have to let Ben go in order to keep all three of them safe. It's funny – he had always thought the safest place for all three of his children was in his arms, and he had ended up having to send one far away to keep them safe.
He had been prepared, though. He had known.
But Matt had just run away. He was still so little, and Tom knew how scared he got because he was still so babied, and he knew how cold it was getting. He knew that Matt didn't have anything with him – no food, no water, no weapons, no extra clothes – and that thought terrified him more than skitters did. At least if he got harnessed, Matt would be alive and well, and they could find him and remove it since they knew how now. But a recently-turned nine-year-old did not know how to defend against the elements, and with it being winter the possibilities of hypothermia, pneumonia, and frost bite were present along with everything that usually came with the elements. He knew Matt wouldn't know whether or not he was getting dehydrated; he didn't have the knowledge or the wherewithal to recognize the symptoms yet. He was so small, and he would be so scared out there all by himself, in the dark, all alone…
Tom covered his eyes with his hands as the tears finally started to fall. He couldn't lose two children, not like this. Not his wife, then Ben and Matt… He had only just started to allow himself happiness after Rebecca. For a little bit, he had wondered if Matt's disappearance had been some sort of divine punishment for his happiness, but he had known the moment the idea had come into his mind that it was absurd. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about God at the moment, but he knew that if He existed, that wasn't how He worked.
Tom moaned and clutched at the back of his hair, beginning to sob and rock. He felt like a helpless child, unable to do anything to protect the ones he loved. He felt like they were all slipping like sand between his fingers, but in the worst way possible. This feeling wasn't supposed to come until he was sending them away to college, and even then it was supposed to be bitter-sweet. Instead, he was left with a taste like sour milk in his mouth and a sharp pain in his chest any time he thought about his two youngest children. This wasn't supposed to happen. He had been a good father, hadn't he? Let them know he loved them, adored them even, that they were the best things in his life. But two of them were gone now, and he had failed even further by failing to be strong for-
"Dad?" Hal's voice was unusually soft as it came through the door of the tent. Tom's head snapped to the sound as he quickly tried to wipe away the tears still cascading down his cheeks. "Dad…" Hal's voice trailed off as he walked into the tent to sit beside his dad on the small cot. Unable to think of anything to say, he simply put his arms around his father and began to cry along with him. No matter how old he got, Hal would always need moments like this with his dad.
They had had a fight the night Ben had left. It had ensued halfway through the meeting with Weaver on what route was best for the least amount of resistance on the road to Charleston. It was Pope, funnily enough, who had noticed Ben's absence first. "Where's ol' Razorback?" He had asked, then his eyes had widened at what he had said. He had looked immediately at Tom to brace himself for any attack in defense of Ben, but Tom had merely put his head down and tightly shut his eyes in some invisible pain.
"He left," Tom answered, barely above a whisper, and Hal had reacted almost immediately.
"What do you mean he left?" He had demanded, and with his dad's explanation of how it had been dangerous for the group for him to stay, and how he had wanted so badly to make him stay but couldn't, and how it was probably safer this way for Hal and Matt, Hal had become furious. "What do you mean we'll be safer? What about Ben being safer, huh? He may be strong, but he's a fifteen-year-old kid! A year ago he was a mathlete! I busted my ass getting him back from those skitters, and you just let him leave?" Tom tried to explain why, but Hal wouldn't hear it. "You let him go out there all by himself dad! You didn't even tell me first so I could say goodbye!" And with that, he had turned around and left the group, ignoring Weaver's commands to stay, and his father's pleads to listen. He found a secluded spot where he could cry on his own; he felt like the worst big brother in the whole world. He was supposed to protect Ben; he didn't care how strong he got or whether or not he could fend for himself. That was his little brother, and Hal was supposed to protect him. But now his little brother was out there all by himself now, and the only way he had treated him the past few days had been with mistrust and near-contempt. He couldn't even apologize.
His dad had found him about thirty minutes later, after he had finished bawling his eyes out. He just sat down beside him in silence, waiting for Hal to speak first; he knew that would work better than talking himself. Finally, Hal spoke up in a hoarse half-whisper, "I didn't even say goodbye to him." Then he looked at his dad and asked, "Are we going to see him again?"
Tom rubbed at his eyes, then leaned forward to hold his son to him. "I don't know," he began honestly, "but Ben seemed very confident that we would. And I have to hope that we will. I refuse to let that be the last time I see my son."
Hal waited a little while longer before muttering into his dad's shoulder "When were you planning on telling Matt?"
Tom squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. That was what he had tried not to think about. He knew that Matt and Ben had gotten very close over the past few weeks, and he didn't want to imagine the heartbreak in his little boy's eyes when he told him about his big brother leaving. "I don't – I don't know." He finally answered meekly.
"We can tell him together, if you want." Hal had offered, and then felt his dad nod into his shoulder. They broke apart to go find the youngest Mason, and fifteen minutes later they were panicking to Weaver that had run off or gotten lost.
Hal was remembering that entire first day all over again as he and his dad held each other and cried, and all he could do was hope with all his heart that both his little brothers were still alive out there, and that maybe – maybe – they were together.
(a/n) Aww. Poor Tom. An Hal, but we didn't see much of him in this chapter. Not as much as I had hoped, anyway. Oh, well, maybe another chapter. It feels like I would be slaughtering it to drag it on.