mash_slash | Fic challange, part two...

Title: Screw Loose, part two.

Rating: Somewhere in between PG:13 and R.

Summary: Frank remembers as the screw falls.

Pairings: Hawkeye/Frank, with a side of Margaret/Frank.

Challenge: During war; ‘the real reason Frank went crazy’.

Author’s Note: Part two!

No matter how much he wishes he was, Frank has never been good at sports. He likes to pretend he is, but, regardless, he’s not. When he was fifteen (pimply, lanky, friendless), his father demanded that Frank go out and try for the local football team. Frank, even before stepping out the door, even before considering the idea, before even looking up from his geography homework, knew it was a bad idea. Regardless of his protests- his brother (attractive, arrogant, admirable) was already on the team, anyway- his father forced him to try out (threatening to hit him, Frank now thinks, was probably a good way of persuading him).

He remembers walking up to the coach the next day, and looking up into the steely grey eyes of the enormous man. Everybody looked so tall, so much stronger, so much more mature. Granted, the youngest player on the team was sixteen, but Frank felt small, insignificant.

The coach laughed in his face at Frank’s request to try out for the team. The rest of the players soon joined in, even Frank’s brother. At least, he thought, as he turned his back and started walking home, at least I tried.

When he got home, his father fumed. Frank doesn’t remember much of what happened next (mostly, he figures, from having his head slammed against a wall once or twice), but he remembers his father’s cold, blue eyes, his angry, red face, the smell of alcohol on his breath. He remembers being knocked off his feet, his mother’s indifferent stare.

He remembers his blood-curdling scream as his fingers were snapped back by his father’s powerful grip.

He remembers sitting in his room for forty-five minutes, blood dripping from his knuckles until his mother came up to his room, a freshly swollen bruise under her left eye.

He remembers sneaking out of the house with her, his father passed out on the living room floor, and driving to the hospital in silence.

What Frank doesn’t remember is leaning into Hawkeye’s waiting arms and begin to cry.

(That’s the doubt, the doubt and trust in it.)

---

Hawkeye, Frank has decided as he sobs pathetically (helplessly) into the man’s shoulder, is an enigma (he’s surprised himself by knowing that word). Hawkeye can be the most bitterly sarcastic person on the MASH, but as soon as someone needs help- be it BJ, Radar or, even now, Frank, he is willing to help.

He (doesn’t) like crying (but if feels good) and he (doesn’t) like appearing weak (but it’s nice to let his guard down), but Frank (has) let himself sob into Hawkeye’s shoulder. And all the time, Hawkeye petted the back of his head, rubbed his back, said soothing, non-committal words (Frank likes feeling like a child, a pet, a ferret. What say, Ferret-face? He say, it feels loved).

‘Shh, Frank,’ Hawkeye whispered, rubbing Frank’s back. ‘Shh, it’s alright, it’s alright.’

Frank sniffed loudly, and wriggled closer towards Hawkeye, his head upon his shoulder.

‘I hate crying,’ he croaked indignantly. He could almost feel Hawkeye stop himself from laughing. Frank sniffed again, narrowing his eyebrows. ‘I do.’

‘And that’s why you cry nearly everyday,’ Hawkeye replied. Frank gritted his teeth (but he’s not angry), and tried to pull away. Hawkeye let go, but kept his hand on Frank’s shoulder (it’s oddly comforting). A pause stretched out between them. Hawkeye had a look in his eyes like he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how. Frank decided to speak, instead.

‘Margaret’s getting married.’

Hawkeye gave a bitter smile, which twisted his lips until he looked like some grotesque image of himself.

‘What’re you going to do?’ he asked, his hand dropping off Frank’s shoulder and swinging down to his side. ‘It’s clear that nobody - ’

He cuts himself off, but the message was clear. It hung in he air between them and the space between them suddenly seemed too small, the walls too close. Frank gave a strangled groan.

‘I know,’ he said, eyes downcast (he’s no Hawkeye, he’s no BJ). ‘Nobody likes me.’

---

Margaret, Frank has figured out, is nothing like Louise. Where Louise is quiet, Margaret is loud. Where Louise is dainty, Margaret is strong. Where Louise is cowardly, Margaret is daring. It’s all a matter of contradictions. A double life- a life in Korea, a life in Indiana. It’s almost giddying and sometimes he has a little giggle about it to himself.

But now Margaret is getting married, and she won’t want to (do things, do what they used to) go back to the way it was. It’s been difficult enough, with her engagement and whatnot. But even then, Margaret would relent, allow Frank into her tent. As a married woman, that would change. No more fun and games (fun and games, games Hawkeye and BJ would play).

Margaret was the only person Frank could, would, does, did trust. She was the only person that gave him the time of day (it’s hurting, it hurts, his knuckles are bleeding). She was his, and now she won’t be, and it hurts, and he’s beginning to cry again (he hates it, and he hates Hawkeye, and he hates Korea, and he hates himself).

He’s crying, but he doesn’t care anymore. And Hawkeye’s hugging him again, but he doesn’t care (all he cares about now is going stateside).

(Going back to Indiana.)

(Going back home.)

(To Louise.)

Louise, with her warm body, and caring smile, and his children. He forgets these things and they come crashing back down upon him, like the realization that he and Hawkeye are kissing.

(That’s the sight, and that’s the sound in it.)

---

(It’s not a very pleasant kiss.) They’re kissing. (It’s wet, but that might be because Frank’s been crying.) They’re touching. (It’s messy, but that doesn’t stop them from doing it.) They’re enjoying it. (Frank needs comfort, and Hawkeye isn’t afraid to give it.)

(Maybe Hawkeye isn’t as bad as Frank made him out to be in his mind.) Hawkeye pushed Frank against the bench, his back digging into the wood underneath. Screw loose. (Screw loose.)

‘Screw loose.’

‘Screw loose?’

(Screw loose.)

‘I’ve got a screw loose.’

Hawkeye stared (stares), and pulled a broken chair leg out from underneath Frank’s back. It was (is) similar to the one Frank had fixed earlier. It (swings) back and forth in Hawkeye’s (head, shoulders, knees and toes) hand, his eyes (so true, let me call you sweetheart, I’m in love with you) questioning, staring (always staring), curious (curiosity killed the cat).

(Satisfaction brought it back.)

Frank pulled Hawkeye closer and kissed him again (screw loose, screw loose, screw loose, just like Hawkeye, just like me).

Hawkeye gasped when Frank let him go. His eyes were wild and glassy, face flushed, sweat on his brow.

‘Margaret,’ Frank said, voice high and cracking, ‘Margaret.’

‘I think you need some R-and-R,’ Hawkeye said (says). ‘Would you like a three-day pass? I can get you a three-day pass. Let me get you a three-day pas. I’ll go get you a three-day pass.’

(He’s rambling, rambling rose, second-hand Rose from Second Avenue.)

‘I’d like that,’ Frank (says), smiling. Hawkeye (takes) Frank off the bench, and picked up his box of headache tablets (for BJ, Hawkeye has BJ, Frank has) no one (Margaret).

(Screw loose.)

(Tokyo, Margaret, his, no one, screw loose, eyes so true, give me your answer true, half-crazy, all for the love you.)

‘I’d like that,’ (he says again, voice distant, eyes glassy.) ‘I’d like that a lot.’

(That’s the gift, and that’s the trick in it.)

---

(You’re the truth, not I.)