Thank you to the reviewers.

LXXV.

For several minutes, hours, who really knew how long, Lourdes pumped air into Jimmy's lungs as a hand compressor as Dr. Glass tried desperately to push life into his chest. Ben watched, pale and helpless, his father stood beside him in silence. After what seemed not nearly long enough, Dr. Glass slowed to a stop, and Lourdes loosened her hold on the compressor, eyes meeting the doctor's.

"Why are you stopping?" Ben quietly asked, a shrill tremble in his words, "Why are you stopping? Keep going."

Dr. Glass lowered her eyes, and Lourdes laid the compressor on the table delicately.

"Keep going," Ben barked command.

"Ben…" Tom started.

Ben spun away before his father could finish, bursting from the van in a blind uncertain panic. Out in the open, a few members of the 2nd Mass wandering about their business around him, he broke. He gulped air desperately into his mouth, but he couldn't swallow it down past the lump in his throat. The world spun round at a rapid pace. He couldn't see straight, couldn't hear anything around him over the roar of his own emotional head rush. Gone, it beat into his brain like the flat, forked end of an iron hammer, Jimmy was gone.

Everything was lost. What did any of it matter anymore? The war, the aliens, the meaningless battles that took more from them than gave? For a moment, a sliver of time, Ben had a purpose, something to fight for, hope, a light at the end of the tunnel. That time was over, hope gone, and what purpose did that leave him?

The door to the medic van opened and softly shut. Ben saw his father approach, but couldn't even conjure the slightest emotion or acknowledgment for the old man. They had grievances earlier, but the fighting, the anger Ben had towards his father, it all seemed trivial right then. Everything was just triviality. It didn't matter. None of it mattered.

"Ben, I'm so sorry, son," Tom said, approaching carefully, his eyes searching Ben's for some sign of what to do or say next.

Ben hunched his shoulders, quaking without control. He sensed tears on his cheeks, blistering heat, but he barely felt them. Tom crept a little closer, lowered his voice, and softened the gaze in his eyes.

"I don't even know where to begin," Tom continued, sniffled and shuddered against a sudden creeping chill, "Jimmy, he…um…well…I didn't expect…"

"Don't bother. You got what you wanted, happy now?" Ben demanded, and Tom looked taken aback.

"This is not what I wanted. Not even remotely," Tom said, frowned at the ground, "Your mother…"

Ben glanced at his father in mild surprise, dropped his eyes and swiped at the tears off his chin. The tone his father took was so small and broken, Ben barely recognized it.

"I know I haven't said much about it, but it was hard on me, it is hard, everyday it's hard, and I guess I don't talk about it with you boys because I'm still coping. It's never easy losing someone like that, someone so important. I blamed…I blame myself for what happened. Even though I know there was nothing I could've done, I can't help thinking 'if only I had been there…I should have been there'," Tom faltered, cleared his throat, "Knowing I had you and your brothers to take of, I don't know what I would've done were it not for you three. There was nothing you could've done, Ben, there was nothing anyone could've done."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do now," Ben whispered.

"I don't know either," Tom said earnestly, placed a hand on Ben's shoulder, drew him into a loose embrace, "I wish I could tell you that the feeling of loss goes away, and that things start to make sense again, but if it does and they do, I'm not there yet either, son, I really don't know. I am here for you, though, and you can talk to me."

Ben pulled away, wiped his face dry. He held in the bitter retort that it would've been nice if his father had been there for him earlier when Jimmy stood beside him in that tent, when it mattered most. He didn't have the strength to fight with his father about it. Without Jimmy, it didn't really matter.

"I think I need to be alone right now," Ben said.

"I understand," Tom replied, gave Ben's shoulder a squeeze, "I'll go speak to your brothers, they'll need to know what's going on, and Dr. Glass is going to inform camp."

It was all moving too fast; Ben felt like he was going to be sick. His head spun from the suddenness of it all. He pictured his father sitting Hal and Matt down, telling them 'Jimmy is gone', and the imagined scene reverberated violently in Ben's chest. He could see the pity in his brothers' eyes as they thought inevitable of their brother losing his one love. He couldn't think about the news spreading through camp. How many would sympathize with Ben? How many would blame him? It played out as the perfect cautionary tale of why one shouldn't get too close to the razorback. Jimmy never should have gotten so close.

"We'll have to have the funeral today, Weaver wanted to leave as soon as we were able," Tom said, "Do you think you'll be up to it?"

"Do I really have a choice?" Ben wondered.

Tom didn't answer.

"Fine," Ben mumbled, swallowed down his tears, voice cracking only once as he decided, "I'll get Jimmy ready, then."

"No, son, we'll let someone else do it," Tom protested, horrified at the notion of his son prepping the body of his lost lover.

"I don't want anyone else to," Ben snapped, petulantly insisted, "I'll take care of him. It's my responsibility. He's my…he would want me to do it."

It was a lie. Ben knew Jimmy wouldn't have wanted him to make the funerary arrangement. Overall, it wasn't in Jimmy's nature to want anyone fussing over him, but Jimmy would know the emotional toll it would take on Ben. The boy would never want to be that kind of a burden. All the more reason it needed to be Ben.

"Okay," Tom relented. He gave Ben's shoulder one last squeeze, and left to seek out his other sons.

For an hour or so, as word traveled around camp, Ben lingered in the bathroom on the edge of the airfield trying to gather his thoughts and emotions. It was the last place where he'd been intimate with Jimmy. At first he wasn't sure he could stomach being in there, but after several minutes, he felt more at ease than standing outside. He sat on the tiled floor, thought of Jimmy's touch, taste, the soft flurried sound of his breathing, rustle of his clothes. Ben flushed as he recalled Jimmy's mouth, tentative and hot around his erection, and fresh tears sprung to his eyes. The other boy's quiet confession, me too.

Ben closed his eyes, let himself slip into the world, listening to every sound and conversation, imagining himself a part of a this greater whole instead of trapped in a small body alone and lost.

In the hangar, Weaver received the news about Jimmy from Dr. Glass. She separated him from a larger group, he'd been doling out orders, making preparations for the move. Dr. Glass spoke in a soft, slow voice, her words trembling only slightly when she stated, "Jimmy has passed."

Weaver didn't answer immediately, and Dr. Glass filled the empty void of the conversation with a few trivial comments. "We did everything that we could," and "He went quietly, didn't seem to suffer too much."

"I'll make an announcement, thank you for all you did for him, doctor. I'm sorry it wasn't enough," Weaver finally said, in a sturdy tone. His calm acceptance of Dr. Glass's words surprised Ben, though it probably shouldn't have. They'd all seen loss, friends, family and comrades fallen on the battlefield. This was Weaver's second war, as well, he had faced this kind of thing before. Jimmy was nothing special, just another name on a long list of impromptu good-byes the captain has made in his life.

"When will you have a chance to come by the van to see him?" Dr. Glass asked, "I'd like to make sure things are cleaned up and…"

"I won't be," Weaver said gruffly.

"No? I thought you might want a chance to say good-bye or…" Dr. Glass murmured.

Ben furrowed his brow, confused and heartbroken. He knew Jeanne's return had strained the relations between Jimmy and the captain, but Ben had always thought that more because Jimmy pulled away rather than Weaver pushing. It hurt Ben more than he could understand or explain the easy dismissal and under-reaction from Weaver.

"No," Weaver repeated firmly, "I can't say whatever I need at the funeral."

There was a pause.

"Sir," Dr. Glass began, "I know it's not really my place to say, and I know this has come suddenly and it's hard for all of us, but we aren't really going to have a lot of time to process this. A child's loss is never easy on anyone, and if it's not handled right, it can take its toll. I really recommend that you take the time that we do have and…and well, visit with him and say a private good-bye. Just to get closure, because you will not be able to later."

"You're right, Dr. Glass, it's really not your place to say," Weaver said, "It is hard, and there isn't any time, there's not enough time in the whole goddamned world to ever fully process this kind of thing. Believe me, I know. I know better than most, and that's really saying something in this world. But if you think that going in there, and saying a few words about how sorry I am, how I'll miss him, and I hope he rest in peace, that saying those things will get me closure, you're wrong."

"Captain, I truly believe that…"

"Believe this, doctor," Weaver seethed, "There is no good that will come from me seeing that boy laid out on a cold slab. I'll say my good-byes at the funeral. Thank you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a unit to gather, a tragic announcement to make, and a damn good fighter to lay to rest. Get back to the medic van, and do whatever cleaning up you need to. I guarantee others are going to want to see him one last time."

"Right. I'm sorry," Dr. Glass hastily stammered, and there was a soft patter of her feet as she started away.

"Doc," Weaver called, and Dr. Glass paused, presumably turned back around to face him, "You did the best you could."

"I just wish I'd been better," Dr. Glass replied, a small sob escaping.

"You did the best anyone could, given the situation. It was a good job, but sometimes…" Weaver said.

"I know," Dr. Glass said, took a deep, steadying breath, "It's just…why did it have to be this one?"

Ben struggled to pull his focus away from them. He wandered listlessly through camp, catching snippets of conversation here and there from people who hadn't yet heard, they only knew about Ben's returning with Jimmy the night before. They spoke in low whispers, speculating on how long Jimmy would last, and how he was injured in the first place. Most of them seemed of the general consensus that Ben having been alone with Jimmy when the injury happened was incredibly suspicious. A bird's song captured Ben's ear, took him away from the noises of camp. It was trying to catch the attention of a mate, its trill growing with increasing complexity after each passing second.

By the time he returned to camp, news had been passed on to the group. People were abuzz with the loss, and as Weaver predicted, some were interested in saying their good-byes. Anthony climbed up into the van, but Maggie was already there.

"I'm sorry, I'll come back," he excused himself, started for the door.

"You're fine. I'm just…" Maggie said, her voice sounded hollow; she sighed, "I've been standing her for the past forty minutes or so, just trying to think of something."

"It's not easy," Anthony conceded, "I'm a bit at a loss myself."

"I know that I should be thinking of a farewell speech, something about how I'll miss him and crap about heaven having a new angel, I don't know," Maggie murmured, "But all I can't do it. All I can think about is how mad I am, and how much I just want to yell at him right now. What was he doing out there? Alone, confronting Skitters, only him and Ben, what the hell were they thinking? They knew better than that. At least, he should've known better than that. We taught him to know…we raised him to know better. But now here he is, and there are all these things I need to tell him, and I can't. How am I supposed to say good-bye when I am so mad at him for leaving?"

They fell quiet, save for the sound of muffling tears. Maggie's tears, Ben presumed, but he couldn't be certain.

"I'm sorry," Maggie decided, "I need to get out of this room."

"Okay. Come on, let's take a walk," Anthony agreed.

Time ticked away, and Ben sat there drifting, daydreaming, lost in a swirl of foggy thoughts. It wasn't real, it wasn't true. Any moment now, he felt, Jimmy would walk through the door. He would complain about Ben being broody, smile a tooth-field grin, and reassure Ben he was fine, everything was fine, and that nothing in the world could be or feel bad because he was there, his mere presence erased pain and sorrow, his touch melted away insecurities and doubts, his kiss…

The door rattled open and Hal stood tentatively in its frame, eyeing Ben with equal parts curious and dark somber.

"Dad told me about Jimmy," he started.

Ben nodded, said nothing.

"They said I'd find you in here."

Ben shrugged, didn't wonder or care who 'they' were, probably just nosy 2nd Mass civilians.

"They're starting to get things ready. For the move and to…" Hal lowered his eyes, covered a cough, "Bury Jimmy."

"He needs a new shirt," Ben mumbled, it was barely audible even to his own ears.

"What's that?"

"His shirt. They had to cut it off," Ben said, a couple tears tumbling off his chin, "It was his only shirt."

"Okay. We'll get him a new shirt," Hal said.

"Where will we get one? There aren't any spare ones," Ben murmured.

"I'll find him one, don't worry," Hal decided. Ben fell silent and Hal shifted uncomfortably, "Dad said that you wanted to…to be the one that got Jimmy ready…"

"Yes. I do."

"You're sure about that?"

"Yes. It's my job. I should be the one," Ben rose to his feet, rubbed the tears from his eyes with the keel of his hands, "I'm his family."

"Okay. Come on, I'll walk with you to the van," Hal said.

The brothers strode at a slow pace through camp. A few people paused to watch their passing, some whispered things to one another under their breath, but Ben didn't bother listening in to what was being said. The brothers stopped outside of the medic van door.

"I'll go see about finding a shirt," Hal suggested, "Give you time alone to…yeah."

Ben nodded stiffly, watched as his brother turned and wandered across camp again. He took a deep breath, opened the medic van door and climbed up the stairs. Little had changed since he'd been in there. The equipment from the surgery were cleaned up, and the blankets removed. Jimmy didn't need to be kept warm anymore. He couldn't be, there was no way to keep out the cold, it came from inside him. Someone had found a new shirt to dress Jimmy in, it lay across a nearby chair, some red button down.

Quaking with each step, Ben approached the table. Jimmy looked to be sleeping, eyes closed and body relaxed. It was the still quiet of the room that gave away the truth. Ben picked up the shirt off the chair, inspected it. It wasn't Jimmy, and Ben hated it. Jimmy would be left dressed in this garment, wearing this false attire, for the rest of eternity. It made Ben angry, boiled the blood in his veins. He undid the buttons, and took a stance beside Jimmy at the table.

"Hey, babe," Ben whispered, shuddered from the short hitch in his breath.

He reached out a hand, brushed at the loose hair sprawled across Jimmy's forehead, ghosted across the abnormally pale skin. It didn't feel as cold as Ben had imagined, but it still chilled him to the bone. The bullet was set atop Jimmys chest, its chain wrapped round his neck. A promise broken into a thousand pieces.

"I'm going to put this on you," Ben said, "I'm sorry it's not a better shirt, but it's all we have."

Carefully, Ben slipped Jimmy's arm through the first sleeve. He lifted Jimmy up, cradled the boy against his chest, new tears falling freely down his cheeks as he savored the last embrace they'd ever share, pulling the shirt around. He placed Jimmy gently back on the table, and finished putting the shirt on. Once it was buttoned up, Ben smoothed out the fabric and studied his work. Everything about the scene looked like a facsimile of who the boy had been. It was all wrong. Everything was wrong.

"I'm so sorry," Ben whispered, "I tried to protect you, I tried to push you away, I tried but I didn't…I couldn't try harder. I needed you. I still need you. Somewhere, at some point, you became everything I needed in this life, and I don't know how to say good-bye. You made me a promise, and you didn't keep it. You told me you wanted that future and now, what future do we have…do I have without you?"

Ben gasped for air, and swiped away the tears to no avail.

"It doesn't even feel as though this is real," Ben said, "You're still warm, there's still color in you, maybe you aren't gone. Maybe they're wrong and you're only sleeping. You're sleeping, waiting for a kiss to wake you up."

Hesitant, Ben bent at the waist, placed a tentative kiss on Jimmy's unresponsive lips. He waited a second, two, for the other boy to stir to life and return the kiss but he never did. Ben relented, straightened slightly, his face close to Jimmy, eyes scouring the motionless features.

"But you're not asleep. You're dead," Ben murmured, he struggled for breath, a growing pain in his chest. He laid his hand over Jimmy's eyes, and breathed a soft, "I love you," rest his lips against Jimmy's own, reveled in that last taste, touch, smell, let it linger in his heart and head, broke away when he couldn't bear waiting for the returned kiss that would never come and finally said, "Good-bye."

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AN: Right. Please read the next chapter before killing me.

And also, let me know what you think! Keep the curse words to a minimum.

Reviewers: cubelixa1, I do, actually. And I like making you laugh, and making you angry. It's fun to stir emotions in readers, otherwise, what am I doing this for? :) LuckyDreamer91, I'm glad I was missed. Do it too often though, and you'll all forget about me. I'm glad the chapter moved you! IcicleLilly, nope you haven't reviewed in awhile. I'm glad you dropped in and that the story is still interesting to you. One more chapter and it's done. Then we move on to the next part. Princekasad, well, thank you for following this story for so long and for all your kind words. Um...yeah...uh...this is awkward. Read the next chapter! Ewookiee, I got nothing left to say. Dee, I'm mad at you. Sort of. Saddened anyway.

Read the next chapter! Go, go, go!