Alan had dirt up his fingernails.
He slowly pulled himself out of his crouch and wiped his hands on his pants.
Scott?
Virgil was holding their biggest brother as he sobbed into his shirt. Warm rumblings of comfort echoed softly around the lookout. The chill air hung still for a moment.
The mountain was silent, ominous only in its presence.
Gravel gritted under a shoe and Alan looked up to find John hesitantly taking a step forward, his eyes only for the two men on the bench.
Gordy. Where was Gordy?
Alan looked around the almost frozen tableau and found his fish brother watery eyed behind him. He looked limp, spent.
Virgil's soft voice continued its quiet words, punctuated by the strangled sobs of their big brother.
Big brother.
Scott never cried.
Well, Alan had never seen him cry. Not like this.
He had seen him with glassy eyes holding dead children. He'd heard him cry out in pain. He had seen him blood spattered and exhausted. He had even seen him drunk and miserable.
But never like this.
All the theory, all the coping mechanisms, the whole idea of bringing his brothers here...this was on Alan, on him. Had he done the right thing?
A harshly indrawn breath beside him and he looked up again to see John barely holding himself together.
Oh my god.
Not...John.
Alan killed the two strides between them and reaching out, touched his brother's arm.
Wet turquoise turned to him and Alan's heart broke in two. "I'm sorry."
But John...John who only hugged on rare occasions, who asked that his personal space be respected...grabbed him and drew him into his embrace.
It wasn't flannel, but, by god, it was all brother.
"Thank you, Allie."
Wh-what?
"We needed this...we so needed this..."
"But Scott..."
Voice little more than breath. "Scott most of all."
They stood there like that, listening to Virgil's continuing reassurance for some time. Alan, not letting John go, reached out and snagged Gordon's arm and dragged him into the hug.
Eventually, Scott grew quiet and Virgil along with him. It may have only been minutes, but it felt like hours.
Silence sank into the damp ground as the breeze made itself known again.
Alan eyed his brothers before pulling away from John and returning, as if drawn, to the monument.
Dad had been here. Even Alan knew that this would not have been something his father would have done without making an appearance. He had stood here, alone, who knows how many years ago and oversaw the installation of this stone.
Why hadn't he told them?
He reached out and placed his palm on the rock. It was cold, but for a moment, he felt a connection to both his parents. Not just his Dad, but his Mom as well.
A hand landed on his shoulder.
"She would have been so proud of you." Scott's voice was hoarse and his eyes red, but the love and the pride in the blue looking down at him was strong and true.
"You think?" A whisper of empty memories.
"I know."
Virgil limped up to his right, a frown holding him together. John turned with Gordon still attempting to compose himself, and all five sons stood in silence in front of the grey flame.
After some time, Virgil broke the tableau, voice rough. "We need to talk about her more."
Four pairs of eyes darted to him. He straightened and calmly looked back. "We do."
Scott was the first to let his eyes return to the rock. "Yeah, we do."
"We have stories, Allie. So many stories." But Alan could see how even thinking about them was bringing his second biggest brother to the edge again. He reached out and grabbed at his flannel shirt.
"We have time, Virgil. I'll be here when you're ready." He turned to Scott and grabbed his jacket as well. "Both of you." His hand reached back to John and his eyes tracked to Gordon. "All of you. I don't remember, but I can wait until you're ready. I know it's hard. I...lost Dad." He had still been young, only eleven, but like John, he remembered enough. "When you are ready."
Scott grabbed him suddenly and he ended up with a face full of air force jacket, his brother strong and desperate. Scott didn't say anything, but the message was clear.
Thank you.
-o-o-o-