Response

[takenhawkeye.livejournal.com]

This is my response to loneraven's challenge for a five-minute piece, sent out over the mash_slash mailing list. I t actually took me more then five minutes (though under ten), and is more or less free association. Coherence is not easily spotted.

All the same, enjoy.

There's a river tucked back behind the hospital, and deep into the wild, that no one ventures to much. Not these days, when the only liquid there is time to watch flow, is the blood. Still, somehow, Hawkeye works to squeeze out a few blessed solitary moments beside the river.

The noises of the camp fade away, drowning in the rushing sound of the water. Leaning against the rock, casting his first stone, Hawkeye wonders what Trapper would have made of the place. Perhaps the slim surgeon would have thought it the perfect place for midnight rendezvous with his latest registered nurse. More likely than not, though, he would have left well enough alone. If there was one thing to be said for Trapper, among the many, he knew how to appreciate such private havens.

A fish scampers past, leaving a small ripple of water in its wake. No doubt, Hawkeye thinks, Henry would have made good use of this river. He racks his mind for the name of the fish, recalling the early days of his life, when his grandfather would take him out to the stream that ran through Crabapple Cove, and tell him the names of each fish they could see. Later, they would bring out the book, the one with the glossy photos, and look at the millions of types of fish that roamed the earth's waters. When his Grandfather Adele died, Hawkeye at the tender age of six, he dropped the book into the stream, deciding the salmon would make better use of it then he ever cared to.

Yes, Henry's rod would have found a home in the river behind the hospital, had it ever the chance.

In the distance a crackling sound echoes his way. He can't decipher the words, but can grasp the meaning well enough. The harsh sound of chopper blades only confirms his suspicions.

Hawkeye turns, leaving the small bit of paradise in hell behind him. The river roars on, oblivious.

Farewell.