Title: The Colonels
Author: LNFPH4077
Fandom: MASH
Summary: If Colonels Blake and Potter could have a conversation, what would they say to one another?
Genre: General
Rating: PG-13/T
Disclaimer: MASH is 35. I am much younger. Any questions?
Archive: I'd be flattered – just ask first, please.
Look, I can be serious. (Puts on best serious face, which lasts about 30 seconds) But moving on from my lack of gravitas, I think I might possibly be playing fast and loose with chronology. Maybe. Possibly. Feel free to call me out if you think it's flagarent. The same goes for anything else you may find amiss.
The Colonels
It was the one year anniversary of Colonel Blake's death, and a sober mood hung around the 4077th. Anyone who wasn't on duty was in the Officers' Club, trying desperately to chase away the sobers. This included Hawkeye Pierce, who was nursing his eighth martini (no pun intended). Despite repeated trials and errors, the latter in particular, he had never quite grasped that his grief was a champion swimmer. He had been joined by BJ and Colonel Potter at about his fourth martini, and was currently reminiscing about Colonel Blake. How he couldn't tell the difference between a gun and his elbow. How he always wore that fly-fishing hat. How he loved his family.
"He was a light in this darkness and they snuffed him out." Hawkeye muttered. "Goddamn army." He pushed himself off the bar and stormed out of the O Club. BJ told Colonel Potter through a conversation of eyes that he'd take care of it, that Hawkeye would be all right, that everything would be all right before he took off after his best friend. Potter admired BJ for his optimism, but he wasn't entirely sure if everything would be all right.
After finishing his drink Colonel Potter went off to his tent, figuring that he'd read a little Zane Grey before turning in. He had settled himself in bed and reached around for his latest read before he realized that he had left that particular novel in his office.
"Buffalo cupcakes!" he exclaimed in aggravation, pulling himself out of bed. He put on his glasses, bathrobe, and slippers and padded to his office. In his office, Colonel Potter saw that the novel was on his desk, as he had expected. But he also saw something he did not expect. Fiddling inside his liquor cabinet was a man he didn't know.
On second thought, maybe he did.
"Colonel Blake?" Potter hazarded, wondering what the mess tent had stuck in the mashed potatoes this time. He decided that if laundry soap had ended up in the food again, someone was getting a boot up the butt.
"Yo!" Colonel Blake yelped cheerfully before exiting the liquor cabinet. Potter saw that he was wearing the fishing hat Hawkeye had mentioned.
"To what do I owe this little powwow?" Colonel Potter asked, taking his delirium in stride.
"I see you've been doing some mighty good work with my people."
"You see?"
"The dead like to watch the living. Particularly when the nurses are in the shower." Potter had to grin at that.
"You and Hawkeye go together like peas and carrots. He's going to be as pleased as a fox in a henhouse when I tell him about this." Colonel Blake poured himself a drink.
"Hawkeye. He's the best clown in this whole damn circus. He has something not too many people here do – principles he's willing to stick to when the spam hits the fan. This makes him a great man to some. To others it makes him-"
"As stubborn as a mule with menopause." Potter finished. Colonel Blake took a sip of his drink.
"That's the kicker." He replied. Colonel Potter, overcome with curiosity, couldn't help but ask
"Your official OK of my command is reassuring, Colonel, but why wait this long?"
"Higher-ups wanted it to be meaningful – 'sentiment of the anniversary.'" Death, apparently, had its own beaureauocracy; a lot like the army. Colonel Potter's curiosity hadn't run its course, though.
"Tell me from experience, Colonel – would you rather be dead than here?" Colonel Blake took a big swig of his drink, bracing himself to answer.
"I'd get my butt in a sling answering a question like that, but let's just say that I wasn't as desperate to live as Klinger is."
"Ah, Klinger. If Klinger aimed his determination at his duty, he'd probably make General." Both Colonels took a moment to imagine Klinger as a General with five stars and a corncob pipe.
"He'll end up okay, though. He's going to marry a nice girl, have lots of little Maxes and live happily ever after." Colonel Potter couldn't tell whether this was just an arbitrary prediction or something more substantial.
"Are you saying what I'm hearing?" He asked.
"One of the swell things about being dead is a tenuous grasp on time, Colonel. I have a limited ability to make predictions. As per Dante, I'm told. Can't tell you much more without getting into trouble up to my whatsis." However, Colonel Blake looked like he wanted to tell all. Potter didn't push, though. If this was what it appeared to be, he didn't think definite knowledge of the afterlife was worth blowing his chance to talk to the man his people has so admired. "But I think I can safely tell you that the 4077th is in for some trying times."
"As opposed to now?"
"Yep."
"Lovely. Something to look forward to."
"At least you have a hope of seeing home again." Something about the way Colonel Blake had said the word "home" made Colonel Potter realize that he would trade his – or anyone else's – soul for just five more minutes with his family. "You know," He took a pause. "I can't technically ask you for any favors, but if my visit gives you any ideas I wouldn't be held responsible..." Colonel Potter immediately caught the drift.
"I'll give your wife a sympathy call in the morning. Nothing suspicious about that. What's her name?"
"Lorraine." It was obvious that Colonel Blake elevated his housewife to the dizzying heights of one of the world's great lovers. Why shouldn't he? She was his Heloise, his Juliet. His Hero. A contemplative silence settled over the office. To break it, Colonel Potter asked
"I take it you saw what happened to Frank Burns?" Colonel Blake made a "pffffffffftht" noise with his tongue, indicating that he both knew and disapproved of Ferret Face's fate.
"Biggest horse's patoot in the army. He'll get his though."
"From what I can see he already got it from Major Houlihan." Colonel Blake had a small laugh at that.
"The whole time I was in command I didn't know whether to kick Hotlips or kiss her."
"Did you ever think that she and Pierce might end up...comrades in arms?"
"There are people who would like them to. But I think that they'd commit murder after a week of each other."
"It's like putting two racehorses together in a stall." Colonel Potter mused. "They'd kick the daylights out of one another. It's best to give a racehorse a donkey for companionship."
"I wouldn't be suprised if Hawkeye has dated a donkey."
"Hawkeye wouldn't know how to woo a donkey. Radar, maybe, but not Hawkeye." Colonel Blake took another sip of his drink.
"With the exception of my own children Radar is the single greatest kid I've ever known."
"I'd have loved to have him as a son."
"Don't you?" The abruptness of the question made Colonel Potter stop and think. Now that he thought about it...
"I suppose I do."
"The kid's been awful lucky – first his Uncle Ed, then you. He's had more fathers than some people have had in one lifetime."
"You're forgetting about you, Colonel."
"Me? Nah." Colonel Blake waved his hand dismissively. "I just gave him all his bad habits." Colonel Potter nodded at Blake's drink.
"I doubt you gave him his taste for Nehi."
"He came here with that. Must be something in the water in Iowa."
"Maybe it is the water in Iowa."
"I'll have to ask his Uncle Ed." Colonel Potter stared at Colonel Blake incredulously.
"What in the name of God's green goodness is that supposed to mean?" Colonel Blake opened his mouth to speak, but Colonel Potter cut him off. "Higher-ups, right?"
"Right, Colonel. You're as smart as Winchester thinks he is."
"Taking stock of the new gang, I see."
"Right on the money. Winchester could be the upper-class twit of the year, but he's got a heart he doesn't want you to know about." Colonel Potter had often thought that Winchester's nose was so high that he'd drown in the rain without an umbrella. He thought that he'd be rather taxed to find the ambitious Major's more generous side, but he supposed he'd have to trust to time and Colonel Blake's judgement on that.
"And BJ?" Colonel Potter had often wondered about BJ. There was something under that goofy exterior that he just couldn't quite get at...
"Every bit the father and friend I wanted to be. But there's a hellion in there somewhere. If I had my guess, Hawkeye'd be the one to bring it out." That was just what Colonel Potter needed – two rebellious officers. It was trying enough to rein in Hawkeye at times. Colonel Blake nodded, as if hearing something from some frequency Colonel Potter couldn't reach.
"You're need, I think. I won't be seeing you again, as per the higher-ups, so good luck." Colonel Blake started to raise his drink...
Colonel Potter started awake at the knock on his door. He groped for his glasses, only to realize that he already had them and his bath robe and slippers on. Odd for him to fall asleep like that. He padded to the door and opened it to find Hawkeye on the other side.
"Sorry to wake you. It's just that I've been having some strange dreams..."
"So've I, son. Buy me a cup of coffee and we'll compare notes."
-30-
It's up to you whether it's a dream or not.
I know I ended it kind of abruptly (I really intended it to be as long as A Fangirl's Paradise) but I was running out of steam and, besides, "brevity is the soul of wit." Right? Right!?