Coming home from Korea should have been a happy occasion. Hitch had been stuck in his own head, going through motions almost automatically when boarding his flight to North Carolina from New York City after he, Troy, and Tully had flown from Korea, to Britain in order to meet Jules, Moffitt's one-year-old son, before returning home to the States. Instead of being happy that he was home after stepping off the plane in Wilmington, Hitch felt numb. The sight and sound of Troy being shot had been constantly on replay in his head. All because I turned him right toward that ambush. A split-second decision that nearly cost Troy his life. Hitch couldn't imagine the ramifications that would have had on everyone, and it would have been all his fault.
Troy had mentioned over and over again that no one was at fault except for the North Korean soldier who actually fired the shot. It was an ambush that did exactly what it set out to do. Hitch had no way of seeing it coming, and he tried to react accordingly. Too many things happened in too little time. Everything then had been powered by adrenaline and instinct. Accidents happen. At least Troy was okay. Nothing would shake the memory of sitting and waiting while Troy was being operated on. Each passing second carried the fear that someone was going to come out of that room and say that they did everything they could, but Troy didn't make it.
That hadn't been the case, but all the nerves were still there.
Hitch was dimly aware of his numb expression when he found his wife, Molly, whom he married just a few months before being sent to Korea. He recalled that being in the hospital where Troy was being operated on was the first time he hadn't been throwing himself at every pretty nurse on sight. It hadn't even crossed his mind. Then again, he had grown past that years ago, but it was strange being in a similar environment where that reprehensible behavior of his had once been prevalent. The "ladies' man" he cultivated while attending Wake Forest was gone. Molly had been told about it, and reassured that part of Hitch's past and personality had been gotten rid of, but part of him feared that the lack of an expression on his face would suggest that he wasn't happy to see her.
Instead of being angry, of accusing him of things he didn't do, she said, "Are you okay?"
She was genuinely concerned for his wellbeing. He couldn't express how much he appreciated that, so he showed his gratitude by being honest. "No. Not… Not really."
"Still thinking about what happened to Troy?"
Hitch nodded.
Molly stood next to him, letting him put his arm around her as they walked together out of the airport. "Take as much time as you need with talking about it. I'm listening."
He gently squeezed her, and tried not to cry. A sob escaped his throat anyway. "Thanks."
They went home to their quiet street in Wilmington, with only the sound of crickets and tree frogs spilling in through the windows, mingling with the soft droning of a fan set up in the windowsill. Hitch hadn't done much talking. He wasn't sure how to explain what happened. He vaguely remembered his letters to Molly and his parents didn't have much detail, as he was still in shock when he wrote them.
Molly didn't press him when they were in the privacy of their home. Instead, she set his duffel bag on the floor, and had him sit on the couch. She sat next to him to hug him, and soon the sound of his sobbing disrupted the ambience of the early evening crickets. It would be a little while before Hitch could talk, but eventually, he did, going through each horrific detail, and Molly listened.