"Hawk, you have to stop trying to kill yourself. Your family needs you."

"Don't you need me, Skippy?"

"I have you…"

They stared at one another longingly for a moment before Tim broke eye contact first and leaned back on his hands, looking up to the moon as it hung low over the palm trees in the distance.

Hawk let a small smile cross his face as he followed Tim's eyes to the moon and said quietly, "You know, he really liked you, Skippy. Jackson, I mean."

Tim smiled at Hawk's words, fondly remembering that sweet eleven-year-old boy he had once met, and the conversations they had shared, when Tim had taken refuge in the cabin on Hawk's country property in 1968.

"I liked him, too."

Hawk lowered his gaze from the moon to the lights glittering off of the surface of the swimming pool, "You should know that, after you left, he was good for years," he said, continuing to watch the lights dance as he twisted the wedding ring on his left hand in a nervous gesture, "Whatever you said seemed to get through to him back then and we thought he had moved past whatever was making him act the way he was. But, when he turned nineteen...it just seemed to all fall apart, again…"

Hawk shook his head as if to clear the memories away and released his ring

"Hawk, I'm sorry…" Tim whispered, his expression softening as he turned and looked at Hawk again, unsure of what else to say

"I'm not," Hawk smirked sadly, meeting Tim's eyes as he reached out and rested a hand on Tim's arm, "You gave me back years with Jackson that, at the time, I was worried I would never have. And I was able to tell him at least once, that I loved him—beyond measure. That's more than my father ever said to me."

"'Beyond Measure'?" Tim asked, tilting his head to the side as he studied Hawk and the older man chuckled softly.

"Yeah," Hawk replied, releasing Tim's arm, "A wise man—a seminarian, actually—told me about it once."

Tim sat up and put his hands on his knees, looking out again to the moon.

"You know, when I was getting ready to come here," he said, "Mary asked me the same question she last asked in 1968…."

Tim turned to Hawk, "Why do I keep coming back to you?"

Hawk let out a trembling breath he didn't realize he was holding and swallowed nervously as he awaited the answer, himself.

"She can't believe that I could ever forgive you for what you did to me. She thinks it's just lovesickness and masochism that keeps bringing me back to your door when you call," Tim smirked sadly, "And she would be right—I loved you, Hawk, and still love you—beyond measure—"

"Skippy…" Hawk whispered

But Tim continued as if he hadn't heard him, "I let her think it. Because I haven't had to courage to tell her the truth—that I forgave you a long time ago, Hawk. In fact, I know the exact date."

There was a long pause before Tim said in a soft, reverent voice, "May 11th, 1957."

He watched Hawk's face change in recognition of the significance of the date.

Tim took in a breath, then nodded, affirming what Hawk was thinking as he said, "I saw him, Hawk."

"What?" Hawk whispered in surprise and awe

"After Mary told me that you had turned me in to the M Squad," Tim continued, now looking down to where his legs were soaking in the shallow end of the pool, "I—I didn't' know what to think. I was beside myself. Then, she told me that Lucy had gone into labor overnight and that you two had gone to the hospital, so I found myself making my way there. I didn't know what I would do or say, I just knew that I had to see you. But, when I got there, the nurse on duty told me that you had gone home and that Lucy was resting."

Tim closed his eyes and tilted his head up to the sky, relishing the cool breeze on his face as he continued with his memory, "I was going to just walk away...but, then... I heard these cries coming from down the hall—in the nursery. My curiosity got the best of me, I suppose. I went to the nursery window and….I saw him. Jackson."

A single tear now fell down his right cheek and Tim opened his eyes as he wiped it away with the back of his right hand.

"He had your chin and Lucy's eyes and he was so beautiful, Hawk…"

Tim turned to meet Hawk's gaze once more and saw that the other man's eyes were bright blue with unshed tears.

"And that's when I knew two things to be true," Tim continued, trying to keep his voice even, "First, that you had done what you did to me, not just out of self-preservation, but to protect your career and the new life and family you were creating. And, for that reason, I knew I had to let you go."

Hawk absorbed Tim's words for a few moments before he asked in a near whisper, "And, what was the second thing?"

"The second thing is that that, when I saw that baby," Tim replied, his voice breaking, his eyes closing in reverence, "I think that's when I knew God truly existed."

Hawk face crumbled at Tim's words and he looked down to his hands.

After a long moment, Hawk looked back over to Tim and whispered, "Thank you for telling me that."

"I'm sorry..." Tim said, shaking his head with a sigh, trying to regain control of his emotions as he wiped his face and opened his eyes, "I don't know where that came from. This isn't about me and my feelings. I came here for you."

Hawk opened his mouth to protest, but Tim sniffed back any remaining tears as he patted Hawk's knee.

He then slowly rose, pulling his legs out of the pool and bringing himself to his feet, "It's getting late. We need to get you to bed, Champ. You need to take better care of yourself."

Hawk looked up to Tim as the latter now leaned down and held out a hand to help Hawk up

"I'm not tired," Hawk said, but took the offered hand and groaned as Tim helped him up, the pain from his arthritis hitting him in his lower back and his knees.

"I'm pretty sure that's the drugs and the alcohol talking," Tim chuckled as he put his hands on Hawk's right shoulder and back and guided him toward the sliding glass doors that led back into the villa, "Once we get you into that bed, you'll be tired. It's like 2 am and you're not 25 anymore—"

Hawk stopped short and looked back at Tim over his shoulder with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he gasped dramatically and brought a shocked hand to his chest before exclaiming in his best damsel voice, "Mr. Laughlin, are you saying I'm no longer young and beautiful?!"

Tim laughed out loud, then, after a moment, he met Hawk's gaze with his chocolate brown eyes as he said, "You know that you'll always be beautiful to me."

Hawk seemed genuinely flattered, until Tim reached around Hawk for the handle to the door so he could pull it open for them and added with his trademark whit, "You're just not young."

"Oh!" Hawk cried in mock horror as he walked ahead of Tim through the now open glass door, "Like a knife to the heart, Skippy! Like a knife to the damn heart!"

################################

Tim walked behind Hawk as the older man made his way slowly and steadily up the stairs to the second floor and his bedroom, spotting him so that he wouldn't fall down the steps. Tim was pretty sure he was the least drunk and stoned of the two of them.

Hawk had only stopped and swayed once on the middle landing of the staircase, but luckily didn't fall and waived off Tim's offer of his arm to steady him the rest of the way up.

When they finally reached the top of the stairs, Tim watched Hawk walk ahead of him and around to the left side of his bed, where he picked up a glass tumbler of scotch off of the bedside table.

But, just as Hawk brought the glass to his lips, Tim appeared and gently reached around him and pulled it from Hawk's hand.

"I'll take that, thank you..." Tim said with a chuckle as he watched Hawk pout at the loss of his drink

"Sit," Tim commanded over his shoulder as he walked toward the attached bathroom with the tumbler and Hawk sighed as he did what he was told and sat down on the edge of the bed.

He winced a little when he heard Tim dump the scotch down the bathroom sink and then the clink of the glass as he left it on the counter.

When he returned, Tim squatted down in front of Hawk and began pulling off the older man's topsider shoes, one by one, before tossing them aside.

"Pajamas?" Tim asked, looking up at Hawk

But, Hawk just gave him a mischievous smile and Tim rolled his eyes. He should have remembered. In all the years he had known Hawk, he knew that he would rather sleep naked, or at least in his underwear, rather than in pajamas.

Tim suddenly found himself wondering if Hawk had ever worn pajamas when he slept in the same bed with Lucy. Surely he had.

And, why was he suddenly thinking about that?

Tim stood up and sat down on the bed next to Hawk, turning toward him as he reached forward and began to slowly unzip his jacket.

Hawk just watched him, not taking his eyes off of Tim's face.

Tim slipped the jacket back over Hawk's shoulders, then held it up in front of himself and folded it neatly before placing it at the foot of the bed.

Hawk smirked at this little habit that still remained after all the years they had undressed each other.

Tim turned back to him and caught Hawk looking at him.

"What? Tim asked as he started unbuttoning Hawk's short sleeve dark blue shirt.

"Nothing...just..." Hawk replied, his eyes moving down to look at Tim's fingers undoing the buttons, "Thanks, Skippy."

"Well," Tim said as he too focused on the buttons, "You could barely make it up the stairs, so I figured undressing might be a challenge."

Hawk sighed as Tim now pulled the shirt back over his shoulders, then stood up and folded it as well, before taking both the shirt and the jacket and placing them on a nearby chair.

He watched Hawk fall back on the bed, now clad in just his running shorts, his head hitting the soft mass of pillows at the top of the mattress.

Tim smiled as he walked to the side of the bed and pulled the covers back from under Hawk's feet and lifted them over top of him.

But, just as Tim began to move away, Hawk reached out and gently grabbed his hand.

"Would you stay with me?" Hawk asked quietly, his voice now thick with drowsiness, just like Tim had predicted by the pool

"I don't know if that would be a good idea…" Tim replied honestly, his eyes soft and empathetic

"Right..." Hawk said as he shifted under the blankets, "Arthur….the poet…"

"You actually said that without a snicker or an eyeroll. I'm impressed," Tim smiled

Hawk chuckled and turned his head to bury his face in his bicep

"Too tired..." he mumbled

Then, Hawk looked back up at Tim when he felt the younger man squeeze his hand.

"What about Craig?" Tim asked, trying to keep the jealousy out of his voice, "He left, but surely he'll be back after he's cooled off—"

Hawk released Tim's hand and shook his head as he adjusted himself on the pillows, "No. Not here. I don't sleep with men."

"Umm…." Tim mused, his eyes lighting up suddenly with amusement and confusion

"You know what I mean," Hawk said as he lazily rested a hand on his forehead, "I don't let the men that 'meet my needs' sleep in bed with me."

Tim's face softened as he suddenly realized…

But, Hawk beat him to it before he could say anything.

"You're the only man I've ever slept with, Skippy. And the only one I want to share my bed with."

There was a long silence that hung in the air between them until Hawk lowered his hand from his face and his blue eyes met Tim's

"Please?" he whispered, "I don't want to be alone tonight."

Tim let out a steadying breath, then gave a small, defeated smile and leaned over to switch off the lamp on the bedside table, before stealthily moving around the foot of the bed to the other side.

Hawk's gaze followed Tim, the younger man keeping eye contact with Hawk as he lifted the hooded sweatshirt he had worn outside up and over his head, before folding it and tossing it aside.

Still in his own shorts, he pulled back the comforter and slid into bed next to Hawk.

To his surprise, Hawk didn't make a move to touch him, he just turned on his side and looked Tim up and down as the younger man shifted on the pillows and made himself comfortable.

When he was now lying comfortably on his back, Tim reached over and turned off the bedside lamp on his side, bathing the room in a semi darkness.

He then turned his head toward Hawk and, without a word, opened his arms.

Hawk closed his eyes in relief, then he slid over and enfolded himself in Tim's arms, resting his head on his bare chest.

"