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mijmeraar.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
mash_slash2006-12-14 05:40 pm
mijmeraar.livejournal.com) wrote in mash_slash2006-12-14 05:40 pm
Entry tags:
[mijmeraar] Just forget the world, Pt 1 of 1, 13+
Title: Just forget the world.
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mijmeraar
Pairing: very mildly implied BJ/Hawkeye
Rating: 13+
AN: Angst. I really liked the outcome of this, but if it doesn't work for you, please feel free to tell me. Comments/Critique is Love.
six days before the phone rings, you forget where Peg keeps the spare key, get stuck outside in the heat all day while Erin’s cheeks turn pink and her mouth goes dry. Peg says it doesn’t matter and what she really means is it does matter but you’ve worse things to sort out, other things to keep you cold at night. She coddles Erin as if she were ill, says meaningless things like silly daddy, and daddy’s still learning, and daddy loves you, and they’re meaningless, but they mean everything, they say all those things she won’t throw at you, coated in forgiveness she doesn’t really mean. You’re both taking a beating, going down, but she won’t fight. Won’t.
four days before the phone rings, you forget to close the back door, arms full of clean clothes from the line. The dog bounds in after you and knocks things over and rips at the rubbish bin with his teeth. You wrestle him out, nearly break something from bending over backwards, nearly break something with your angry fist. You win this battle and prepare for the war because Peg only sees the aftermath, the dirty stains all over her whites, from mud and fur and carelessness on your part. She says they’ll come out in the wash but really means she’ll be scrubbing for days, pushing too hard and trying too much and sweating over something out of her control. She ties the dog up, says it wont happen again, now, says the problems fixed and not for you to worry. That’s all you do. Worry.
two days before the phone rings, you have a patient with chronic asthma and another with back strain and a kid comes in, seventeen maybe, just cut his leg up on the barbwire outside Frank Rogers Auto-Shop. He didn’t know where else to go, so your nurse sops up the blood on the floor while you stitch him up, smiling and clapping him on the back and telling him he’ll be fine, to come back and see you. There’s a bottle of gin stashed back at home [finest kind] and a glass with your name on it, literally, so you just sit there in an empty house and fill her up, fill her up again. Peg comes home and her heels click clack on tile and Erin calls out for you but you’re head's in your hands, pride on the floor. Peg click clacks up the stairs, across the hall, closes the bedroom door. Click.
when the phone rings, it’s dark outside, dead, and it sounds out like mortar fire, waking Erin, her screams like gashes in your skin. Peg runs for her, you run for the phone, expect an emergency, a call for the doctor. You’re the doctor.
“Hello?”
“You were going to leave me there.”
You don’t need to ask, but you do anyway, “Hawk?”
“I mean, I was going crazy Beej, real, that’s all folks, kinda crazy. And you were going to leave. You left.”
“Hawkeye, what - ”
“Are you going crazy, Beej?”
You wonder why this all makes sense, you wonder if crazy really means anything, and if you could ever really say what this is, what has settled overhead. So you don’t say anything and Hawkeye hears you, every word.
“I won’t leave you, Beej. I’ll always be there.”
You wonder where there is, Korea or Maine or inside you, deep down through to your bones, and you think maybe everything. Maybe all of it.
a week after the phone rings, it rings again.
Peg has Erin and the dog’s tied up and you’ll probably sleep on the couch again, tonight.
You just keep talking. You just keep on.
Author:
mijmeraarPairing: very mildly implied BJ/Hawkeye
Rating: 13+
AN: Angst. I really liked the outcome of this, but if it doesn't work for you, please feel free to tell me. Comments/Critique is Love.
six days before the phone rings, you forget where Peg keeps the spare key, get stuck outside in the heat all day while Erin’s cheeks turn pink and her mouth goes dry. Peg says it doesn’t matter and what she really means is it does matter but you’ve worse things to sort out, other things to keep you cold at night. She coddles Erin as if she were ill, says meaningless things like silly daddy, and daddy’s still learning, and daddy loves you, and they’re meaningless, but they mean everything, they say all those things she won’t throw at you, coated in forgiveness she doesn’t really mean. You’re both taking a beating, going down, but she won’t fight. Won’t.
four days before the phone rings, you forget to close the back door, arms full of clean clothes from the line. The dog bounds in after you and knocks things over and rips at the rubbish bin with his teeth. You wrestle him out, nearly break something from bending over backwards, nearly break something with your angry fist. You win this battle and prepare for the war because Peg only sees the aftermath, the dirty stains all over her whites, from mud and fur and carelessness on your part. She says they’ll come out in the wash but really means she’ll be scrubbing for days, pushing too hard and trying too much and sweating over something out of her control. She ties the dog up, says it wont happen again, now, says the problems fixed and not for you to worry. That’s all you do. Worry.
two days before the phone rings, you have a patient with chronic asthma and another with back strain and a kid comes in, seventeen maybe, just cut his leg up on the barbwire outside Frank Rogers Auto-Shop. He didn’t know where else to go, so your nurse sops up the blood on the floor while you stitch him up, smiling and clapping him on the back and telling him he’ll be fine, to come back and see you. There’s a bottle of gin stashed back at home [finest kind] and a glass with your name on it, literally, so you just sit there in an empty house and fill her up, fill her up again. Peg comes home and her heels click clack on tile and Erin calls out for you but you’re head's in your hands, pride on the floor. Peg click clacks up the stairs, across the hall, closes the bedroom door. Click.
when the phone rings, it’s dark outside, dead, and it sounds out like mortar fire, waking Erin, her screams like gashes in your skin. Peg runs for her, you run for the phone, expect an emergency, a call for the doctor. You’re the doctor.
“Hello?”
“You were going to leave me there.”
You don’t need to ask, but you do anyway, “Hawk?”
“I mean, I was going crazy Beej, real, that’s all folks, kinda crazy. And you were going to leave. You left.”
“Hawkeye, what - ”
“Are you going crazy, Beej?”
You wonder why this all makes sense, you wonder if crazy really means anything, and if you could ever really say what this is, what has settled overhead. So you don’t say anything and Hawkeye hears you, every word.
“I won’t leave you, Beej. I’ll always be there.”
You wonder where there is, Korea or Maine or inside you, deep down through to your bones, and you think maybe everything. Maybe all of it.
a week after the phone rings, it rings again.
Peg has Erin and the dog’s tied up and you’ll probably sleep on the couch again, tonight.
You just keep talking. You just keep on.
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I did notice a teeny tiny typo though ... being the grammar police and all ;) Though I don't know if this is actually grammar ...
>>Erin calls out for you but you’re heads in your hands<<
should be 'your head's in your hands'. :)
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I can't say exactly why I love this piece, but I do. Probably because it feels so real.
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"they say all those things she won’t throw at you, coated in forgiveness she doesn’t really mean."
"her screams like gashes in your skin."
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