It had, Moffitt reflected, been an absolutely exhausting state of affairs, and utterly taxing on everybody. Captain Boggs had been irked at best by their unfailing inability to bring in prisoners that were still kicking, but the sorry condition of the returning patrol had been just enough to stay his hand for the moment. Hitch's face was bandaged up and he was milking a shoulder wound of rather dubious quality for all it was worth; Tully's right arm was in a sling until the vicious gash from a sideswiping bullet could heal; and Moffitt himself was ready to crawl under his cot and hide until his sanity found stable ground to steady itself on. Troy seemed to be the only one who wasn't forever scarred by the experience, mentally or physically, and it was apparently his new mission in life to rub that fact in.
"Captain wants someone to run interference for a supply column headed east," he said by way of greeting, sticking his head in Moffitt's tent. "You up for it?"
Moffitt stared at him over a fresh cup of tea. It had been possibly months since he'd had the chance to actually sit down and enjoy the brief interludes of peace and quiet between the episodes of life-altering chaos that was each mission—especially now, after all that had happened. There was too much to think on, too much to figure out. If he didn't get a moment to himself he was going to go stark raving mad. He took a deep breath and tried to ignore the expectant look in Troy's blue eyes.
"Somehow it wouldn't be the same if Tully wasn't driving," he said. "I'm rather a man of habit."
Troy gave him a look. "You can't stay in here forever, y'know."
"I've barely been in here for fifteen minutes," Moffitt countered, half-exasperated, half-amused at Troy's persistence. "That hardly counts as forever."
Troy seemed rather doubtful. Perhaps his watch was broken. "There's nothing to feel guilty about, Moffitt. He got what was coming to him."
Pointedly Moffitt stared at his teacup, avoiding the American's gaze. "Who says I'm feeling guilty?"
Troy's silence spoke volumes. He knew Moffitt too well to be convinced by a reply as tepid as that. The Brit cleared his throat.
"There's not much out here in this desert by way of civilization," he said at last. "A man's honor is all he has to hold on to."
"And some people can't be reasoned with," Troy countered. "You think if the tables were turned he'd've given you any kind of a chance? You did us all a favor, Moffitt. Leave it at that."
Moffitt did not like leaving anything in such shameless disarray. There were too many loose ends to this unraveling moral dilemma, complex webs of blame and humanity and the value of a life. None of the answers he could think up spread far enough to satisfy the wide-reaching questions still clamoring in his aching head.
Leave it at that.
It was a fixation of another kind that had sent Diamond on his wretched mission of revenge, hauling Hitch into the desert for the express purpose of getting back at Moffitt for a wrong he had never even committed. That exercise had only served to prove that obsession could only harm rather than help. So why was he sitting here agonizing over what had already happened?
Troy never looked too deeply into the enigmas Moffitt so cherished. He never wasted time dwelling on things that couldn't be helped, indulging so rarely in a reflection on the "what ifs" that the last notable occurrence barely survived in human memory. Perhaps it was merely his way of staying sane—or perhaps he had a point. Maybe the simplest answer was the best. Moffitt cleared his throat.
"I'll think on it," he said simply. Troy gave him a lingering look. When he realized that he wouldn't get anymore of a reply, he only said dubiously,
"Enjoy your tea,"
and left.
Moffitt sat there in the quiet of his tent, taking in the moment of sudden peace that came with his decision. The newfound knowledge that not every problem required strenuous over-analyzation was, in itself, something to think on. Enjoying the inexplicable silence, he found himself staring at his teacup, and doing so considered Troy's parting words.
"I think I might just do that," he said in reply, and took a sip.
ENDE