Work Text:
“Huh…wha….” Joe excavated his head out from under the pillows and sheets, looking bleary eyed at the speaker. He felt like he got run over by a mack truck. “Wha ‘ime is it?”
No further words came and he shook his head. He looked again and no one was there. He muttered low under his breath and shoved himself back down into his cocoon of covers.
“You’re gonna be late” the voice said again and this time he knew it. Fucking Web. “Get the fuck out of my room” he wanted to growl but that’s before the memory of Web being gone hit.
It smacked the air out of him. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and sucked in a shattering gasp. They weren’t close after the war. Nothing like it. It’d been Web who’d reached out first, like he’d always done. Some private eye hadn’t had much trouble in digging him up. The first letter from Web had arrived in the middle of a blistering hot day in summer.
He’d nearly tossed it out as junk when he didn’t recognize the fancy address in New York, but something had pressed him to keep it. Folded it up and shove it in his inside coat pocket where he’d pulled it back out while idling for a fare. He should’ve recognized the handwriting on the front because he sure recognized the handwriting on the inside.
Web nattering on about this and that before the hesitation on the last line Joe could feel through the paper where he asked about coming out to visit. It took Joe too many days to return a short, curt letter saying it’d be okay especially since he already had his address.
The visits had been slow at first, as hesitant as Web’s surety of his welcome back into Joe’s life, until they’d faded into the old worn fabric of routine. Web would make it out every chance he could get. Didn’t even complain, much, about Joe not coming to see him in New York and see the sights. He didn’t want to. Out here was his turf. Out here they were in their own private world where Joe was in control. Back east, Joe was going to be the sore thumb that stuck out.
Maybe Web had finally learned to pick his battles or maybe he didn’t care as long as he had something. Either way, he let Joe dictate the terms of their relationship and Joe could admit that he looked forward to the end of Web’s visits less and less. The divide in their lives becoming something of a sticking point as time wore on. Until finally Web had told him he was moving out to San Francisco after one last sailing trip. Chasing those damn sharks of his.
Joe had finally flown out to see him off for this occasion. The days had spun by entirely too fast before they’d packed Web up in his boat with supplies, equipment, and everything he’d thought he needed for the journey. He’d sent Web off with a smile and a wave into the sunset.
It’d been two months since Web had disappeared into the ocean waves. No wreckage, no sign of survival, no nothing. All hope had been lost and Joe wasn’t doing too well. A drink to tide him over during his shift and then more after to get him to fall into a dreamless sleep. He didn’t do open ended wondering well. The war had knocked that out of him. Seen too much, done too much, to want anything unfinished. Web should’ve been a finished part of his life. Left behind when he left the war. Not this thing hanging over his head, dogging his every step, and sending him to hearing voices when he woke.
Joe twisted in bed and wrapped the covers tighter around him. The bed had been too empty since he’d received the news. Everything had been dull and empty. People had stopped asking him how he was doing because it was clear he wasn’t doing much of anything. He wouldn’t tell them the real reason anyway. He shoved his face into the space between one pillow and the next and welcomed the coolness of the bed against his face. He scrunched his eyes shut. He didn’t have to be up yet. He could force himself back to sleep with sheer force of will. Dream about waking up to Web’s smile before the panic of grief settled back over him.