Disclaimer- Surely I don't really have to keep telling you?
A week', Henry thought despairingly. A week and still no word. Would it kill them to get in touch with us?' He was shaken out of his thoughts by Radar running in to his office.
He's not there anymore! I called and their communication is back up, and I asked and they said he left this morning and he's gone!
Radar calm down! Henry waited until Radar was sitting down before talking.
Now son, who's not where?
Hawkeye isn't at the 1057th anymore! I just called, and they said he left this morning. In a jeep!
A jeep?
Yes sir a jeep! He's fine! He's coming back here! I asked about the phone call and they said they were calling to say he was fine, and on his feet and that he was staying there for as long as necessary to help with the wounded, but that the phone lines were knocked out before they could finish the message!
Henry said nothing, he sat still, staring, almost unseeingly at Radar.
Don't tell anyone Radar, Henry managed finally. We are only just getting over losing him again. If we say he's coming back, and then something happens...
Henry trailed off, but he had said enough for Radar.
| won't tell a soul sir, he promised. Both jumped at the sound of tires screeching and a horn blaring and ran to the door in time to see Hawkeye getting out of a jeep. He was pale, and thinner than ever, but most definitely alive. Before either Henry or Radar could get to him Trapper came running from the Swamp and seized him in a tight hug.
You're back! he kept saying, over and over. You're back! We thought you were dead but we were wrong and you're back!
It took about five seconds for everyone else in camp to reach Hawkeye too, and chaos reigned in the compound for nearly an hour. Hawkeye told them what had happened to him, and they told him what they had thought happened. He laughed uproariously when they told him they had thought him dead, and choked out something about bed pennies always turning up.
It soon became apparent he was tired, and people reluctantly started drifting away, to their tents, to post- op, or to the mess in order to relive the joy of seeing Hawkeye clambering out of the jeep. Trapper grabbed Hawkeye's medical bag out of the back of the jeep and they walked together to the Swamp.
Neither noticed Margaret watching them from the edge of the compound. She was fighting her self, her brain was telling her to walk away, but her heart was screaming at her to go to him, tell him how she felt. Before she could make up her mind, Frank was standing next to her.
Oh well, he sighed, he's back. Then, leaning closer, you're place tonight?
She paused for a second, then gave up, silencing her heart, once again.
Of course Frank. My place tonight.
*** *** *** *** ***
Unaware of this little drama, Hawkeye was settling on to his bunk while Trapper was pouring a martini.
I think you're going to like this. Dry as dry can be.
Turning at the lack of response, Trapper saw Hawkeye was already asleep, and he put the glass down.
It's good to have you back buddy, he whispered.
Good to be back, came the tired, but sincere reply. Maybe I should never leave. With that Hawkeye drifted off to sleep, Trapper's laughter ringing in his ears, and chasing away the new memories he now had. In the back of his mind something was bothering him, something he should have been able to find. Someone crying? No, someone... someone looking so sad.
Of course, his memories of his mother's death had brought back memories of the pain that followed, and of how scared and sad he had been after.
Must be it,' he told himself, as his brain, free from annoyance, began to complete shutting down. What else could it be?'
He closed his mind to the memories of his mother's death, focusing instead on the memories of the time before she had gotten so sick, and passed the night playing hide and seek around the old house once again.
Hmmm, I wonder if any of you have seen the pattern I have. Hawkeye gets hurt, Hawkeye gets better, although I'm proud of myself for not finishing it and having newly healed Hawkeye and Margaret getting together. I'm wondering if I should do a sequel or an epilogue or something to this. Something about what the thing he noticed really was. Yeah, I know. Be proud for not finishing the pattern then suggest a way of finishing it anyway.
Yes or no? Let me know. Let me know if you have any ideas for them too, coz while the prospect is flittering around, the plot isn't :-)