Hawkeye groaned and sat up, blinking against the bright lights. "One too
many martinis," he admonished himself quietly, rubbing at his forehead
tiredly.
"It wasn't the booze, Hawkeye," a voice answered. Hawkeye swung his head around and then groaned as his stomach hit the floor and his vision blurred. But he couldn't place the location of the voice.
"Why, this feels like a helluva hangover," he answered casually, squinting as his eyes started to clear. That voice was oddly familiar.
"Henry?"
"You got it kid," came the response. Hawkeye fell back onto the cot he had been laying on and sat there for a moment in a daze, his hands over his eyes. When he opened them, hoping that whatever hallucination alcohol had dreamed up had dissipated. Instead, he was met with the face of his former CO.
"Am I dead?" he asked bluntly through his hands.
"Nope, not yet anyway," came the response.
"Wait a minute, wait a minute. Is this even real? How do I know you're not just some figment of my imagination?"
"Because you trust me."
"That's exactly what my imagination would say."
Henry looked down at his white robes and shrugged. "What other reason would I have for looking like I just came out of the Pink Pagoda's sauna? I didn't dream this thing up, you did!"
Hawkeye sat up again, and his stomach stayed where it was supposed to. "So you're saying this is my imagination."
Henry shrugged. "Well, this is what you thought being dead would be like. After all the trauma, you pretty much figured that it would be white robes and bright lights until you hit the pearly gates. I'm just indulging your fantasy so you feel more comfortable."
Hawkeye swung his legs down and stood up, slightly wobbly but still pretty secure. "Well, it's not working. I've felt better."
"It was worth a shot. Boy, you sure have gotten touchy since I left. And Grayer too."
"These aren't mine, I'm breaking them in for a friend," came the automatic response.
"Aren't we all. Well, I'm here if you're interested. It's not like you've got much of a choice in the matter." With that, Henry turned and walked a few feet down, then stood looking out into the abyss, waiting for Hawkeye to decide what he was going to do next. Hawkeye sat idly playing with the sash of his own robe for a moment, considering his options.
'Firstly, there's the possibility that this is just a booze-inflicted dream. Then I could have injured myself and this is just some sort of odd dream the patients always tell us about. Or I could really be dead. There's always that possibility too.'
With a noncommital shrug of his shoulders, Hawkeye Pierce stood up and went to stand next to his late friend, leaning against his shoulder with his own.
"You're not going to do some odd little "this is the world without you" scheme, are you? Because I really don't want to hear it right now."
Henry smiled serenely, and that goofy look known all too well appeared on his face. "What have you got to lose?"
"If you start with that stuff, my lunch."
"All right, all right. I won't get gooey. Much."
"Hey!"
But Henry had already bumped him off the platform he had been standing on, and they were both sailing quite peacefully through bright mist.
**Author's note.. good so far?? feedback is always appreciated!! I need the pros, the cons, and everything in between. Be freeeeeeee!!!!!**
"It wasn't the booze, Hawkeye," a voice answered. Hawkeye swung his head around and then groaned as his stomach hit the floor and his vision blurred. But he couldn't place the location of the voice.
"Why, this feels like a helluva hangover," he answered casually, squinting as his eyes started to clear. That voice was oddly familiar.
"Henry?"
"You got it kid," came the response. Hawkeye fell back onto the cot he had been laying on and sat there for a moment in a daze, his hands over his eyes. When he opened them, hoping that whatever hallucination alcohol had dreamed up had dissipated. Instead, he was met with the face of his former CO.
"Am I dead?" he asked bluntly through his hands.
"Nope, not yet anyway," came the response.
"Wait a minute, wait a minute. Is this even real? How do I know you're not just some figment of my imagination?"
"Because you trust me."
"That's exactly what my imagination would say."
Henry looked down at his white robes and shrugged. "What other reason would I have for looking like I just came out of the Pink Pagoda's sauna? I didn't dream this thing up, you did!"
Hawkeye sat up again, and his stomach stayed where it was supposed to. "So you're saying this is my imagination."
Henry shrugged. "Well, this is what you thought being dead would be like. After all the trauma, you pretty much figured that it would be white robes and bright lights until you hit the pearly gates. I'm just indulging your fantasy so you feel more comfortable."
Hawkeye swung his legs down and stood up, slightly wobbly but still pretty secure. "Well, it's not working. I've felt better."
"It was worth a shot. Boy, you sure have gotten touchy since I left. And Grayer too."
"These aren't mine, I'm breaking them in for a friend," came the automatic response.
"Aren't we all. Well, I'm here if you're interested. It's not like you've got much of a choice in the matter." With that, Henry turned and walked a few feet down, then stood looking out into the abyss, waiting for Hawkeye to decide what he was going to do next. Hawkeye sat idly playing with the sash of his own robe for a moment, considering his options.
'Firstly, there's the possibility that this is just a booze-inflicted dream. Then I could have injured myself and this is just some sort of odd dream the patients always tell us about. Or I could really be dead. There's always that possibility too.'
With a noncommital shrug of his shoulders, Hawkeye Pierce stood up and went to stand next to his late friend, leaning against his shoulder with his own.
"You're not going to do some odd little "this is the world without you" scheme, are you? Because I really don't want to hear it right now."
Henry smiled serenely, and that goofy look known all too well appeared on his face. "What have you got to lose?"
"If you start with that stuff, my lunch."
"All right, all right. I won't get gooey. Much."
"Hey!"
But Henry had already bumped him off the platform he had been standing on, and they were both sailing quite peacefully through bright mist.
**Author's note.. good so far?? feedback is always appreciated!! I need the pros, the cons, and everything in between. Be freeeeeeee!!!!!**