It'd be great to know that you're forgiven, to know that your best friend doesn't blame you for his death. That he doesn't blame you for not reaching out to save him until it was too late.

You always reach out for him too late, ever since the day you two met.

This time, though, it wasn't a split lip or hurt pride on the line- no, it was his life.

You didn't have to bring him on the mission; he could have waited by the radio, he could have waited at base, but you decided to bring him along instead.

If you had ordered him to stay back, he would still be alive.

(That's assuming that he would have actually listened to you, he was prone to disobeying orders if it meant he could watch your back, keep you safe, just like he always did.)

But that's not really fair, now is it? He could have lived today and been killed tomorrow from enemy fire or he could have slipped while he was running and broken his neck.

They're all telling you that it wasn't your fault and maybe they're right- he would have died eventually, you know that.

His death isn't your fault.

But you can't get his terrified eyes out of your mind, the way he stretched trying to reach your hand, his screams as he fell.

It may not technically be your fault, but it sure as hell feels like it is.

He trusted you to catch him and you were too slow, your new super soldier reflexes inhumanly fast, but still not fast enough.

You couldn't reach him in time.

Maybe he doesn't blame you for his death, maybe he does.

You'll never know.

Maybe he loved you the way you loved him, maybe he didn't.

You'll never know.

(And doesn't that just tear you to pieces inside?)

Unbeta'd. Please review.