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mash_slashTitle: Echoes
Author: Me
Pairing: implied Hawk/ Trapper
Rating: PG 13
Disclaimer: I don’t own nothing, really, I don’t
Author's Notes: I like the Radar-extrasensory-angle
Summary: Just the beginning I think, but it’s after Trap leaves, from Radar’s POV
I’m Radar. Company clerk for M.A.S.H. unit 4077. At first it sounds like a real fancy title but nobody really calls me that except if their introducing me to someone. I meet a lot of people, all the time, its part of my job. There’s always something going on and it’s up to me to keep my head above water. I was always taught to do my best, all the time, and not complain, and I do that part fine, it’s the other people I usually worry about. When I was little I thought most people, deep down, were basically good and they wouldn’t really hurt no one . . . but after all I’ve seen and all the people I’ve met . . . I’m not so sure anymore. Sometimes I think I had the wrong idea about some things. Sometimes I feel like the whole world’s kinda a messed up place.
I just wish that Coronal Blake were still here. I miss him. Sometimes when I go into his office I imagine it’s gonna be him behind that desk, like nothing happened, but it isn’t. I really wish he were here now though. I got something I need to do and I’m not looking forward to it. If it were Coronal Blake he’d know what to do. He’d know what to do about Hawkeye.
I pushed the door open with my right hand, knowing right away that Coronal Potter was in a bad mood. I took in a shaky breathe, trying not to startle when he looked up, letting the door swing shut behind me. His face was tired, it made him look older than he really was.
“Coronal Potter, sir,” I said, fingers tightening around the folder in my hands, “Sorry to interrupt,” I couldn’t see the papers on his desk, my eyes aren’t too good, but I think it was a letter from home. Just a feeling. This might sound a little strange, but I can tell things without actually knowing them sometimes, it’s not something I can control, it just happens. It’s like seeing thoughts, like people see numbers or words in their head but in my case it’s more than that. It’s from other people’s heads. I don’t try to do it, in fact most of the time I don’t want to. Like now, when he’s really thinking about home. But it’s never a good idea to pry into other people’s business, “Hawkeye’s outside,” I muttered another apology.
“It’s alright, Radar,” he said, saying my name hesitantly, meeting my eyes briefly above his glasses. He thought it was strange. Maybe it was. But he made me nervous when he looked in my eyes. Not that Henry didn’t look at me, I mean Coronal Blake, but I don’t know Coronal Potter so well, not at all really. “Send the Captain in,” he said, sliding his glasses off his nose then standing up. I back stepped out of the room, nodding, trying not to look at his eyes again. He was thinking about his wife. I’d never been in love, so I don’t know, but it was weird feeling, feeling what he felt when I never felt it myself. It was confusing.
Hawkeye stood by my desk, not looking at anything, just standing with his eyes downward. I hugged the file to my chest, my heart skipping several beats, catching in my throat, making it all worse. He wasn’t saying nothing but his silence was enough. This was another time when I didn’t want to have this gift, whatever it was, when I had to feel what someone else was feeling and it was this bad. Hawkeye knows I’m a nervous guy. He even tries to help some, not that I could ever be like him, but I felt terrible right then and it was hard to do anything but stare at him, speechless. A moment later I was stammering something, he probably didn’t hear. He was crying inside. Real loud too, so I couldn’t shut it out. It was like a wave. He was calling out as loud as he could, but no one could hear him. Except for me. I rearranged my tongue in my mouth, trying to get it straight, then cleared my throat, “Uh, Hawkeye, you can see’im now,”
He looked up. He’s got blue eyes. Really blue, like the sky when it ain’t cloudy. I couldn’t look at them right then. He’d been crying, there were still tears in his eyes. He blinked a few times, then raised his chin, whipping away tears on his unshaven cheeks. For a second I couldn’t stop from hearing what he was thinking, I felt guilty but it was too loud, too clear he started pulling at the strings in his head, pulling them all together. He closed his eyes for a second and I saw the word like it was right in front of me.
Trapper.
“I’ll let you know if I mean this thank you,” he said, running a hand through his dark hair. I didn’t know what to say. I shoulda said something. But I could barely stand after all that. But then I never say the right thing anyway.
Hawk pushed his way through the door. I followed, standing right by the door, in case the Coronal needed something. As I stood there I think I sensed something about inventory, he wanted to finish the report. I focused on what he was saying though, trying to ignore the headache I was getting. It wouldn’t have been hard to hear what either of them said from my desk but I figured it was alright. People never really noticed me. All the walls here were too thin for privacy. In more ways than one, in my case I guess.
“Captain,” Coronal Potter said, “I trust you know why I wanted to talk to you,”
“I don’t trust much these days,” Hawk said, swaying a little were he stood, then continued, “But yeah, I have an idea,”
“An idea, huh?” Potter said, walking around the desk, inhaling sharply. “I haven’t worked with you before, Pierce—I don’t know you well, but I know from your reputation that you’re an excellent surgeon. But it doesn’t take a genius to see that something’s on your mind. And it’s affecting your work,” he paused again, “I’m sorry about your last C.O., I know I’m not a replacement, but I like a smoothly run operation. You want time off, I’ll give it to you, if you need it. And everyone’s gotta start somewhere, son, I’m trying my best to be a good leader for this crazy little hamlet, you just gotta let me,”
“I don’t need time off,”
“Captain, I’ve gotten reports from both Majors Burns and Hulligan, as well as Hunnicutt that you’re making mistakes, and in this work that’s a big no-no,” there was another pause, “So what is it, Pierce, and what can I do to help?”
“This has nothing to do with you,” Hawk responded, raising a hand to his forehead then letting it drop to his side, “And there’s nothing you can do to help. I’ll watch myself, don’t worry about it. I’m not gonna make anymore mistakes. If there’s one thing I can do, its surgery,” He turned to go. My mouth dropped open. I dislodged myself from the file cabinet.
“Pierce—”
“That was enough time on the couch, thanks,”
“Captain, you walk out that door and—”
Hawk walked out, all long legs and rumpled clothing, so fast that he left before the door could swing shut.
Coronal Potter went to the door and looked out but Hawkeye was gone. I stood very still. Hawk had just disobeyed an order right? Coronal Potter shook his head. “Well I’ll be,” he sighed, “That man’s got a problem,” his old shoulders fell a little bit, “I don’t think there is anything I can do,” And I’m not off to a very good start.
“It’s alright, sir,” I said carefully, “Give it time. Things’ll get better,” I shrugged, then acted like I was busy with paperwork, ignoring the suspicious look he gave me.
“Maybe you could talk to him, Radar,”
“Oh no, I couldn’t,”
“You have an idea what it is that’s eating at him?”
“Uh, I’m not sure,” I said, shuffling through the paper on my desk.
“Well,” he straightened his uniform. I tried to look calm, “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what happens,” he said.
It wasn’t dark anymore. It wasn’t so hard to keep going when he was here. When he was here . . . it wasn’t cold, it wasn’t painful, he made me forget some things, things that I liked buried. I hate secrets, I do, but this was different. Different. His arms around me, like they’d keep me together, strong like they’d never let go. Blonde hair. Kinda blonde, he joked, it’s not that bad. No it’s not bad. I think I made a joke about Betty Grable but can’t remember. I knew it was wrong. I fought it. I ignored it. I drank it to death. I worked it to death. But it wouldn’t go away. And when the dreams started about him it got worse . . . and I got drunk one too many times, and this time was the time that mattered. We’d gotten a little too close. I didn’t get up and stagger back to the Swamp when I should have. I didn’t stop when I should have just let it go. First kiss. Tasted like gin. He didn’t get up. Maybe he was thinking the same thing. I wish I knew. After that I got lost in it. Warm kissed down my neck, hands under my shirt. Dog-tags jingle as the shirt goes over his head, tugging over messy hair, catching on entangled limbs. Bare skin on bare skin. Sweet taste of his mouth over mine, my eyes closed, my breathe mingling with his, tongue deep in his mouth, making it hard to breathe, easy to breathe, everything seems easier. Oh god, let the whole world look in, I think, my back hitting the wall, who cares what they think. I don’t care. Hips pressed into mine. Harder and harder. His hands go for my belt. I must be leaving bruises. Oh jesus don’t stop. Shivering. My skin is hot, burning but I’m still shivering, shuddering, his hand slides between my legs. I gasp, bite it back, hands moving down his back. Oh god Trapper—
I shoot straight up in bed, gasping for breathe, my teddy-bear rolling across the floor. What was that? I can’t see, my glasses aren’t on, the whole room around me is one big blur. I cover my useless eyes, squeezing them shut. Whoa Radar, keep cool, it’s okay, I tell myself, my breathe coming so harsh I can’t breathe. I feel panicky. It wasn’t my dream. That wasn’t my dream. What happened? What did I do? My hands went through my hair, tugging at the roots, bringing my knees up in bed, trying to quiet myself. Oh jeez, that was too real, I think, things coming back into focus, like I was coming back into my own head. The first thing I thought was just—Trapper—the thought, the idea, was like neon lights in my head. I tried to fix it, to make it go away. It was like walking through mud. Like trying to swim through the ocean. Second thing I notice is how hard I am. Great, I wake up from someone else’s dream like this. Another thing I couldn’t help. I laid back down, throwing an arm over my face.
It was Hawkeye’s dream. Not mine. I musta been thinking about him too much today and then kinda tapped into it when he fell asleep. Sorry Hawk, I thought, though he couldn’t hear. I didn’t try reaching for him. That would be a bad idea. My cock throbbed painfully under the sheets, making it hard to think. My chest was rising and falling too fast, like I’d went out and ran around the compound.
I don’t do this that often. I try not to anyway. I took a shaky breathe, reaching under the covers, under the hem of my boxers. It felt so good. Slow steady, just take it easy. I was already biting my lip. The dream swam under my eyelids, it wouldn’t go away, there was nothing I could do. Maybe it was wrong, maybe I should have tried harder to think of something else, of someone else, but I couldn’t.
Hawkeye close to me. Warm. He smelled nice. His skin was soft. Dark hair falling over his face. Kisses me. So warm and wet. I hear a moan and know it’s me. So tall, so strong. And his hands move like he talks. Confident and bold. But I can’t tell if in this fantasy I’m Trapper or . . . or me . . . it’s hard to tell. Moving to spread my legs wider my head rolled back. With each shuddering breath my stomach muscles clenched. My hips rise against my hand, the other’s on the bed, fingers digging into my sheets. I groan, almost whimper, biting my lip. Hawkeye, I’m sorry, I think, beg, even as in my head he’s running his hands down my stomach, kissing my all over, all the way down. I don’t know if it’s a continuation of the dream, I sure never done nothing like this, never, but before I know it, it’s over. I cry out, rolling to my side, breathing harshly into my rumpled pillow. My boxers are a mess. I take several deep breaths, blinking rapidly, trying to sit up. I closed my eyes, raising my clean hand to my head, pushing hair from my face, opening my eyes to see the blurry surroundings of my office. The canvas roof above me. To the side a tan blur is my bear on the floor. Noise from the compound creep back into my detection. My thoughts focused on them. A sentry. Ah man, what had I done? What just happened? I feel like crying but don’t. Instead I lay back, sure I wasn’t gonna sleep anymore, and started building a wall around myself, like I could see every brick. I never want that to happen again. I’m tired of all this. I want it to stop. I don’t want it anymore.
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Date: 2006-09-05 11:18 pm (UTC)That was quite interesting.
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Date: 2006-09-06 01:29 am (UTC)i've already started the next part . . . Radar looses his "radar" sense. Glad you liked it. I spelled Margaret's last name wrong (oops) and not sure about BJ's . . . it woulda been an easy check but I was too tired . . . I hope I got Radar right, I think i did. thanks again *smile* I like this community.
That freaking rocked
Date: 2006-09-11 09:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-12 05:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-12 05:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-28 12:25 am (UTC)I do have some crit for grammar and spelling; roadstergal@gmail.com if you want it.