A Miracle Every Day 5/?
Nov. 29th, 2004 10:15 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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mash_slashTitle: A Miracle Every Day 5/?
Ch. Title: Ask Me No More Questions, Tell Me No More Lies
Author: Katie
Email: meboja90@yahoo.com
Fandom: MASH
Pairing: Frank/?
Rating: R
Warning: swearing, slurs, sexual references.
Disclaimer: I own Jen. Everybody else belongs to somebody else.
Summary: In Vietnam Era, a runaway is brought back to whom he ran from.
The rest can be found: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/245115/
Jen peeked into the kitchen. Hawkeye was still in there, but he was joined by a scotch. Jen figured that was the perfect time. Hawkeye didn’t appear to be going anywhere fast.
Jen crept down the hallway, and into what looked like Hawkeye’s room. It had all the relics of childhood, including a hand-made bunk bed. In fact, all the toys inside looked hand-made. The only touch of an adult Hawkeye was a faded bathrobe. Jen picked it up and sniffed. It smelled like Hawkeye and the Tom Collins you can buy at the pharmacy. Next the robe was worn medical bag. Bingo.
Jen figured that Hawkeye, as a doctor, would have something stronger than Tylenol in his possession. He did, but none were in the medical bag. The medical bag held something completely different—pictures.
Jen opened the bag, rifled around a bit, until something caught his eye. The photograph was grimy and creased—nothing special. But Jen’s dad was in it. So was Hawkeye. There were six others in it, as well. A blonde woman. A priest. A man wearing a fishing hat. A blonde man. A woman—no, a man, wearing a dress. And, a boy, who looked about Jen’s age.
Jen flipped the picture over. On the back, it read “KOREA 1950”.
Something in Jen’s head clicked.
He reached the kitchen like his life depended on it. Hawkeye was sitting in the same place, a bit out of it.
“Which one is he?” Jen demanded, shoving the picture in front of Hawk’s face.
“What? Who?”
“Which one of them is it?”
“Kid, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I heard when he told her!”
“Told who what?”
“I heard when Frank told my mom about *him*. He said they met in Korea, in-in 1950! He has to be in this picture!”
“Who is ‘he’?”
“Is it him?” Jen pointed to the man in the fishing hat.
Hawkeye’s drunken mind caught on. “No,” he said, quietly.
“Is it him?” Jen pointed to the man in a dress.
“No.”
“Is it him?” Jen pointed to the blonde man.
Hawkeye was quiet for a moment. “Yes.”
Jen regained composure. “Who is he?”
“He’s Trapper McIntyre.”
“Were you friends?”
“We were best friends.”
“Why aren’t you anymore?” Jen was beginning to sound like a cop interrogating someone.
“We grew apart.”
“Were you fucking him?”
Hawkeye was flabbergasted. “God! No, he was like my brother! And, y’know, contrary to popular belief, I don’t sleep with men.”
“Why did you grow apart, then?”
“He…”
“What?”
“I found out he was *with* your father.”
“When? When did you find out?”
“After he left Korea. He sent more letters to Frank than to me.” He chuckled grimly.
Jen softened slightly. “Were they friends?”
“Are you kidding? They couldn’t stand each other.”
“Then, why?”
“Honestly? I don’t know why.”
Ch. Title: Ask Me No More Questions, Tell Me No More Lies
Author: Katie
Email: meboja90@yahoo.com
Fandom: MASH
Pairing: Frank/?
Rating: R
Warning: swearing, slurs, sexual references.
Disclaimer: I own Jen. Everybody else belongs to somebody else.
Summary: In Vietnam Era, a runaway is brought back to whom he ran from.
The rest can be found: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/245115/
Jen peeked into the kitchen. Hawkeye was still in there, but he was joined by a scotch. Jen figured that was the perfect time. Hawkeye didn’t appear to be going anywhere fast.
Jen crept down the hallway, and into what looked like Hawkeye’s room. It had all the relics of childhood, including a hand-made bunk bed. In fact, all the toys inside looked hand-made. The only touch of an adult Hawkeye was a faded bathrobe. Jen picked it up and sniffed. It smelled like Hawkeye and the Tom Collins you can buy at the pharmacy. Next the robe was worn medical bag. Bingo.
Jen figured that Hawkeye, as a doctor, would have something stronger than Tylenol in his possession. He did, but none were in the medical bag. The medical bag held something completely different—pictures.
Jen opened the bag, rifled around a bit, until something caught his eye. The photograph was grimy and creased—nothing special. But Jen’s dad was in it. So was Hawkeye. There were six others in it, as well. A blonde woman. A priest. A man wearing a fishing hat. A blonde man. A woman—no, a man, wearing a dress. And, a boy, who looked about Jen’s age.
Jen flipped the picture over. On the back, it read “KOREA 1950”.
Something in Jen’s head clicked.
He reached the kitchen like his life depended on it. Hawkeye was sitting in the same place, a bit out of it.
“Which one is he?” Jen demanded, shoving the picture in front of Hawk’s face.
“What? Who?”
“Which one of them is it?”
“Kid, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I heard when he told her!”
“Told who what?”
“I heard when Frank told my mom about *him*. He said they met in Korea, in-in 1950! He has to be in this picture!”
“Who is ‘he’?”
“Is it him?” Jen pointed to the man in the fishing hat.
Hawkeye’s drunken mind caught on. “No,” he said, quietly.
“Is it him?” Jen pointed to the man in a dress.
“No.”
“Is it him?” Jen pointed to the blonde man.
Hawkeye was quiet for a moment. “Yes.”
Jen regained composure. “Who is he?”
“He’s Trapper McIntyre.”
“Were you friends?”
“We were best friends.”
“Why aren’t you anymore?” Jen was beginning to sound like a cop interrogating someone.
“We grew apart.”
“Were you fucking him?”
Hawkeye was flabbergasted. “God! No, he was like my brother! And, y’know, contrary to popular belief, I don’t sleep with men.”
“Why did you grow apart, then?”
“He…”
“What?”
“I found out he was *with* your father.”
“When? When did you find out?”
“After he left Korea. He sent more letters to Frank than to me.” He chuckled grimly.
Jen softened slightly. “Were they friends?”
“Are you kidding? They couldn’t stand each other.”
“Then, why?”
“Honestly? I don’t know why.”
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