"Illi Mors"
by Jimaine
Pairing: Hawkeye/Trapper
Rating: Angst, death-fic, suicide implied
Archive: mash-slash, whenever, wherever,
and at T'Len's & Lady Charena's place. All
others just ask – I won't say no.
I'm done with Eliot, giving Beej a break and writing this whilst
watching Alan Alda in "The
Moonshine War". Man, and it's so toasty warm here in my flat that
I'd like to order one of those
collapsible bathtubs from Abercrombie and Finch...all I got is a shower.
This is a reply to the challenge of Friday, May 23rd, the song quoted is
"In Your Keeping" by
Jann Arden, and yes, this was written in more than five minutes.
********
'Illi mors gravis incubat
qui, notus nimis omnibus,
ignotus moritur sibi.'
(On him doth death most heavily lie, who, but too well known to all, dies to himself unknown).
—
Seneca
In the future, they say, everything will be better. People die in a war
to make things better for the
next generation. A beautiful cliché easily employed.
«Tell me I will never die
Take away my pain
Rock me gently in your arms
Say that I'll remain in your keeping»
You can't do that anymore, and neither can I. All I have to touch is a
photograph that's too
painful to look at at the best of times.
At the worst of times, it hurts even to acknowledge that it was ever
taken.
We said it was necessary to have a reminder of the year we spent together, but maybe that was
just selfishness masquerading as reason.
«Brush the hair out from my eyes
Read me a good story
Kiss my fingertips goodnight
Say that I can stay in your company»
The Army wouldn't allow me even that much. Sent me home before we could
get to the 'happily
ever after'. I can recall your touch as if you were sitting right next
to me, your fingers in my hair
like they used to be. Gentle, unobtrusive, almost as if they
*belonged*...
And they did. They, *yours* and nobody else's.
I would undress you quietly, as you would undress me, clothes dropping
into the dust with a
rough whisper. Louder than your voice as you'd laugh into my mouth and
tell me how wrong this
was...and how badly you needed me. And with this nocturnal choreography,
unseen and
unheard, we'd fortify the invisible walls of our private little
sanctuary.
«And I know this much is true
I have lived inside of you
You have always seen me through
While I am peacefully sleeping»
Always beside me, never more than a thought away. Always there to share
a drink, share a bed,
a kiss, a breath and a patient. Unless they were personally lying on our
operating tables, bleeding
and screaming in pain, nobody really appreciated our efforts, friend and
foe alike. Both sides
kept dropping bombs and took turns shelling us – made a doctor really
wonder why his clientele
bothered with bringing in physicians. Without doctors (why waste
ammunition on them,
anyway?), they could have achieved their quota of KIAs far more easily
and gone home for tea
around Easter of 1951.
We'd think we were stronger than the war and, in a way, that was true.
What shells and bullets and a duo of antagonistic majors failed to
accomplish, a sheet of paper
did.
Sitting here now in a house that is supposed to be *home*, I feel
lonelier than in Korea, where
there'd been at least someone wanting me. You. The man inside whom I
spent more than a year
of my life, who *made* this new man in his own image and breathed life
into him. Me. That me
that returned from Korea.
The man Louise knew as her husband had died upon a kiss tasting of dust,
sweat and gin.
But of course she didn't know that rightaway. Neither did I.
It took a few weeks for the changes to manifest themselves. Little
things at first...I'd fail to
respond to a casual touch, my kisses would seem 'cold' and our lovemaking
'mechanical'...and
whenever there'd be a silence during a meal or conversation, she'd call
the look in my eyes 'odd',
my expression 'distant'. Soon that extended to include my entire
behavior.
She didn't understand.
Hell, *I* couldn't understand it...not until I woke one Saturday morning
before dawn to find her
out on the porch. The first dim rays of the September sun were just
creeping over the horizon,
promising another beautiful day. The kind of day on which to take the
kids for a picnic on Castle
Island and walk arm in arm with one's wife through the park.
She wouldn't even turn around as I stepped out. Reaching her side, I
noticed the glitter of dried
tears on her cheeks...as well as the resignation written all over her
face. No long-winded
explanation, only very few, very calm sentences.
*The name you called me by...*
Henry Blake's prophetic words about talking in my sleep came to mind.
Hawkeye...Ben...if I had been a better man... If I had found the courage
to call you after the war,
maybe I would have had the words to tell you why love – *your* love,
your need for my
company – wasn't strong enough to tether my body to yours. Only my
emotions still are, you see,
even now that you've been dead and buried for a year and a day.
«You have always been my friend
I can see your beauty shining
I will love you till the end
Long will I remain in your keeping»
Love you till the end I did. You know that. Everybody knew.
Even now that Korea has been reduced to a few paragraphs in an encyclopedia
and the only
interested parties are historians writing books in the safety of their
studies and veterans leafing
through letters and photographs, I love you no less than before. And I
always will, please believe
me. Yes, I've hurt you...something you didn't deserve. In addition to
all the existing misery, I
dumped this on you, the first loving and then leaving you.
You were stuck with something that should have been mine as well, at
least in parts.
And now...today...at the end...I finally know how to put things right.
Nobody will stop me this
time. This I have to do.
I won't fail you again, Hawk.
This is...compensation for all those nights you let me sleep in your
arms, protected, at peace,
content with just being myself. Myself, with you, me and thee. Only a
little longer now, and I'll be
back there.
«And I know this much is true
I have lived inside of you
You have always seen me through
While I am peacefully sleeping
While I am peacefully sleeping»
Almost sleeping again... At last, the peaceful sleep we could never
share in life. They won't wake
me from this. Deep, deep...this sleep is eternal. Oh, I can see you now.
You're one dream ahead
of me, but I'm catching up.
FINIS