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Hawkeye is sure to make his approach towards the swamp as loud as possible. Having seen the look on Martine’s face as she left, giving Charles time to compose himself will be what’s best for all parties.
Whistling to himself, he stops at the door and listens, only to hear the familiar melancholy strains of Tchaikovsky. Bracing himself for the worst, he walks in.
Charles sits up, clearly hopeful that it’s Martine coming back, and his shoulders slump when he sees that it’s Hawk instead (it hurts more than it should). “Oh. Pierce. It’s you.”
“Well don’t sound so excited,” Hawk says.
“What?”
“I can leave if you want me to, Charles. I just thought...” He sees the look on Charles’s face and backtracks. “I mean, it doesn’t matter what I thought. I can go.”
He’s halfway out the door when Charles says, “You can stay if you’d like.”
“Huh?”
Charles sighs, not meeting Hawkeye’s gaze. “I think I’d prefer if you stayed.”
“Okay.” Hawk sits down on his own cot, keeping his eyes on Charles. “Sure. I can stay.”
“Martine is gone,” Charles says after a minute.
“I know.” Hawkeye shakes his head, his heart aching in his chest like he’s run a mile. "Charles, I want to say I'm sorry that she’s gone... but I can't do that."
Charles looks up. "I beg your pardon?"
"I can't say I'm sorry she's gone because I'm not. But I'm sorry that she hurt you. I'm sore as
hell
that she hurt you."
"Of course she didn't-"
"Charles, please. I may be an idiot, but I’m not a fool. And I’m an old pro when it comes to heartbreak.” He tries for a smile, and fails. “You love her."
"Pierce, don't be absurd. How could I love her after three days?"
"Lesser men have done it," Hawk says quietly.
There’s silence for a few seconds, and then Charles sighs.
"I loved the idea of dating a wild thing, someone untameable and free... but the reality is... much less romantic," he admits.
"It usually is." Hawkeye walks over and plunks down on the edge of Charles's cot. "What is it they say about better to have loved and lost...?"
"Clearly, whoever said that never lost anyone he cared about."
"Well on the bright side?" Hawk starts. "You still have me."
He brushes a thumb over Charles's knuckles and meets his eye.
"Do I?" Charles breathes.
Hawkeye blinks. "I... yeah, Charles, you do. And I mean that sincerely.”
“You can fake sincerity,” Charles murmurs, closing his eyes. “Said so yourself, Pierce.”
“Not with you.”
Charles’s eyes fly back open, blue and startled. “What?”
“It’s all sincere, and I can’t change how I feel, Charles. God knows I've tried. Thrown myself into enough pairs of arms that weren’t yours and pretended it was enough.” There’s a pause as Hawkeye watches his words sink in, and if possible, Charles’s eyes get even wider. “It wasn’t, if you were wondering.”
Charles looks conflicted, and it’s clear from his face that he’s touched, but wary. “Pierce, even if this were the right time, which it isn’t, it is not the right place.”
“Don’t you get it, Charles? There is no right time, no right place. Not for me and you. There’s just here and now.”
“And so you decided once you saw Martine leave that you’d be better off making the kill when there’s still blood in the water, eh Pierce?”
“No.” Hawkeye laughs. “I may be a rake, Charles, but believe me when I say I’m not a cad. All I’m here for is to keep you company. You did ask me to stay, don’t forget.”
He leans down and presses a kiss to Charles’s hand, before standing and walking away, the renewed silence broken only by Tchaikovsky.