Title: All Apologies
Author: Vicinity
E-mail: vicinity@hotmail.com
Category: JTS
Rating: G
Summary: Reflections on the passing of heroes.
Disclaimers: Not mine, not mine.
 

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He puts his arm around me, and I wonder for a moment whether he is trying to
comfort me or himself. It doesn't matter, really, because I am content to
lean against him, to pretend for a moment that I'm not invincible and
infinitely strong. The sun is warm on my body, and I think for the
thousandth time that it is not fair. They had escaped so many times, from so
many things. It was almost as if the threat of death, the promise of the
end, was simply a joke. And then it happened, and so we stand here today.

I have tried to tell myself that at least they died as heroes. They died
saving their country, as true patriots, as they longed to. I wonder if it
was ever real to them before then. So often they took themselves so lightly,
their situations as so unreal. In the end, it was infinitely real, and I
watched. I watched as they died, because I had to. I comforted Jimmy then; I
held his shaking body against mine, and I stroked his hair as he cried into
my shoulder. I watched them go, one by one.

He tightens his grip around me, and I do not want to look up. I do not want
to see his face, because I do not want to see him cry. I think that if I had
to, this time I might join him, and then there would be no one to be strong
for either of us. I remember the numbness when I saw them, when I knew what
would happen, and I wish for it again, because it is safer than the unknown.

For all that I have seen, all that I have done, I still cannot believe that
this has happened, that this is happening. I knew them, I watched them, and
I loved them. Despite their attempts, all of the times they've destroyed my
plans, I loved them. I swallow harshly as I wonder if they knew. If I had
told them, though, it would have changed it all. I have never believed in a
heaven, but today I would like to, if only so that I could know where they
are.

I wonder how much of this is my fault. I know that I did not force them to
follow me, but I think that I knew they would. And so I lead them into this,
and I watched while they fell as heroes. This was my battle, and as usual
they got in the way. And now they are dead, and I am left to mourn.

A slight wind starts up, tugging lightly at my hair, and I shiver despite
myself. He blinks, drawing himself out of wherever he was, and he glances
down at me. I see that whatever tears he may have shed have dried, and I am
glad. He does not need to ask me if I am ready, and we pull apart as we turn
to go. I am cold where his body was against mine, and for a moment I wish
that he was holding me again. I stop myself, though, because we do not need
this, now.

I have seen so many good men die, and I know that I have killed some of them
myself. But this . . . this isn't right.