Author's Note: Hi, everyone! This is my first Fan Fiction piece that I've ever published, so please be gentle in reviews… you can still say you hate it, etc, just lace it with flowers, and chocolate (and send me MASH Seasons 5 - 11). Thanks!

This story takes place in 1957, and was not written with a slash in mind, but if you can find one, or indeed want to find one, be my guest.

I will also say that I am English, have never been to America, and aside from a School Atlas, don't really know much about American Geography, so if I get anything wrong, I do apologise! That goes for American/English subtleties like sidewalk/pavement etc.

So, without further to do, here it is:

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, however much I would most certainly like to.

Trapper McIntyre had the good sense to be impressed.

The row of neat, beige brick houses lining Tier Avenue, certainly the most populated of Crabapple Cove's seven main residential streets, appeared to be the most affluent, and the most idealistic, and quiet.

Very in keeping with the style of the town, Trapper noted.

And yet, an opposite to the style of the man Trapper wanted to meet today. After travelling up from Boston, in the hope of fulfilling the wishes of BJ Hunnicutt and Charles Winchester, Trapper had expected something different to that which he had found.

In the four years since Hawkeye, BJ, and Charles had been allowed home, previous and existing members of the 4077th had set up a society together, for each other. The aim for the instigator, one Sherman Potter, was to construct a net of friends and experience to which all the members could fall back on should their transitions into civilian life go with several hitches.

Potter, with whom Trapper had had no contact with prior to the day the truce had been signed, had, on that very day, scrounged through the 4077th personnel files with Klinger's unwilling help, to find the file of one Captain McIntyre, and had then proceeded to call Trapper himself, to ask him to head the society.

Because, after all, as Potter had said in his grave, war worn tone, Trapper had been through the ordeal already. He could serve as the benchmark - the Case Study - and Trapper had allowed himself to.

He didn't mind being part of the 4077th when there was no chance they would be shelled or killed.

Plus, his involvement in the society had given him the hand he'd needed to somewhat successfully reboot the friendships he'd shared with Hawkeye, Radar, Father Mulcahy, Klinger, and Margaret. And, his involvement had allowed him to make new, surprisingly strong alliances and friendships with the Colonel that had stepped into Henry Blake's shoes; Frank's replacement; and his own replacement, one extremely amiable BJ Hunnicutt who seemed as loyal and eager to extend help to Hawkeye Pierce as Hawkeye Pierce had once been to Trapper himself.

But now, a full seven years since those first cold months of warfare, that had changed.

And this was Hawkeye's last chance.

He'd had so many already, but Trapper had arrived in Hawkeye's home town to snap him out of his delusions, for Hawkeye's sake, for BJ's sake, and for Trapper's own sake. After two years back in the States, Hawkeye had withdrawn himself from 4077th life, causing worry to BJ, Margaret, Trapper, Charles, and Sherman Potter first and foremost. Over the next two years, they had all tried every tactic in the book to try and get Hawkeye to return to the fold. Hawkeye hadn't answered the door to any of them, and had not attended any of the reunions.

This time, Trapper had been selected to creep up on Hawkeye when he least expected it.

When Hawkeye was at work.

At least he couldn't run away from there.

Trapper had found the clinic where Hawkeye now worked with relative ease: Hawkeye's father had given him very precise instructions to the Pierce house in the letters he had sent Trapper, and Trapper knew that the clinic where the two Doctor Pierces presided was situated just behind the property.

He crossed over the grass to the clinic door, stole himself inside, and hesitated.

He'd ventured into the waiting room, that much he could tell. The stretch of chairs, magazines that weren't going to be dirty in the slightest, children's toys, two placards reading 'Dr Pierce' hanging from two consultation rooms, a reception desk, receptionist, and a smattering of patients didn't lie.

Trapper sauntered across the room to the receptionist, a pretty little thing with dark eyes and dark hair.

Trapper wondered whether Hawkeye had seen her 'after hours' yet.

Trapper wondered if Hawkeye did that sort of thing anymore.

"Hi," he said, flashing the receptionist the smile that still made Louise go weak at the knees.

The receptionist, to her credit, returned Trapper's smile with one of her own, albeit, a small polite one. "Can I help you, Sir?" she asked.

"Doctor Pierce isn't around, is he?" Trapper enquired innocently. "The younger one?"

"Do you have an appointment, Sir?"

"No, but I'd like to see him. When is he free?"

The receptionist glanced at her desk, then lifted her head to match Trapper's gaze. "After this patient, he's free for ten minutes. I'll tell him that you're waiting: could I have your name, please?"

"Yes you can," said Trapper. "Frank Burns."

"Thank you, Mr. Burns," the receptionist said. "Doctor Pierce will be a while yet, but you are more than welcome to wait over there."

She gestured to the waiting area.

Trapper sized up the chairs and out of date magazines.

He didn't really fancy it, but what choice did he have?"

"That's great," he said.

Trapper had flicked through most of the magazines by the time Hawkeye's consultation room door finally opened, and Hawkeye himself ushered a woman around Margaret's age out of the room.

As the woman made her way out of the clinic, Hawkeye headed to the receptionist's desk.

Trapper gently called out, "Hawk."

Hawkeye paused, and peeked across at him: his face set like concrete, and then he turned his attention to the receptionist.

Trapper stood up, and strained to hear their conversation.

"That man, Mr. Burns, wants to see you, Doctor."

"He didn't, Polly," Trapper heard Hawkeye say in a weary voice.

"Actually, I did," said Trapper loudly. "But you obviously have better things to be doing."

Hawkeye didn't turn to face him, merely retorting, "Than what, Trapper - making up names?"

"Than at least saying hello to an old friend."

"That's all you are, Trapper."

"Well fine," said Trapper. "I'll tell that to BJ too."

Trapper sat on the steps of the porch of the Pierce house, his chin in his hands, waiting.

Because Hawkeye would have to come after him now.

Trapper had stalked out to give Hawkeye the benefit of having their discussion away from prying ears, and leaving Hawk with the ultimatum that Trapper would shatter BJ Hunnicutt's innocence if Hawkeye didn't at least catch him up seemed like the only way Trapper could ensure Hawkeye would follow him.

And sure enough, a shadow in the shape of a man fell over the sidewalk in front of Trapper, and a voice said angrily, "Don't say that to BJ!"

Trapper lifted his head: Hawkeye stood very close to him, probably trying to be intimidating.

Trapper remarked, "Still no hello?"

"And you're not getting one," growled Hawkeye. "Just don't say that to BJ."

"Now's a funny time to show you care about him," Trapper mused.

"Christ, Trapper," Hawkeye said. "I don't need to feel for the guy to want you to not put something completely out of context."

"Except," said Trapper. "It's not out of context at all."

"What are you doing here anyway, making trouble for nothing?"
"I wanted to see you, actually," said Trapper.

Hawkeye sighed. "Trap, there's a reason I left the society."

"I never did hear it."

"And you lot can't ever let go of someone," Hawkeye said. "I bet you've all still got Henry Blake shrines up."

"No shame in that," said Trapper. "Why'd you take yours down?"

"So I could stop living in the past," said Hawkeye. "So my life could stop revolving around three years of hell, of which I distinctly remember you only having to suffer through one of."

"It's about having a support network," said Trapper. "I needed one, and I wish I'd had one."

"Well I don't," said Hawkeye. "And I don't need you giving me my last chances because you're the one who feels they should. I'm over that part of my life."

"You can't cut everyone off."

"I just did."

"This isn't something you should walk away from," Trapper said sharply. "Stop trying."

Hawkeye pursed his lips, and shrugged his shoulders. "You're right," he agreed. "But since when did I, and more to the point, since when did we ever do what we were meant to do?"

"Since it started to matter," Trapper snapped. "We aren't in the Army with Henry or Potter to look out for us - this isn't the time for us to clown around: it's the time that we stick together-"

"Oh, you're one to talk," Hawkeye sneered. "You didn't talk to me for years."

"You didn't talk to me either," said Trapper. "And that doesn't make it better, but you can't lay all the blame at my door, especially not now, especially when you have BJ Hunnicutt needing your help too. He was under the impression you two were friends."

Hawkeye shot a scathing look at Trapper. "He's right. We were friends."

Trapper glared at Hawkeye, and said immediately, "He deserves more than I do."

But Hawkeye shook his head. "After three years of being the pillar of the community over there, I deserve something too, and that's peace, and no one hanging on when I try and make a clean break!"

"So, you admit it, then?"

Hawkeye rubbed his face. "Jesus Christ, Trapper. If you didn't realise before then you're dimmer than I gave you credit for."

Trapper smiled, "Sticks and stones, Hawk."

Hawkeye turned on him. "What does it matter, anyway? You picked up your life where you left it, why can't I?"

"Because nothing's the same anymore, is it?" Trapper murmured his smile fading. "It's been six years since I kissed Radar goodbye, but I still wake up at night and expect to see you. I still wake up at the slightest noise, just in case there are choppers. I still wake up sometimes thinking I've got two straight days of surgery to endure, and you can't tell me you don't suffer the same sort of thing?"

"No," said Hawkeye crossly. "But I can't seem to be able to tell you to leave, either."

Trapper scowled.

What had been the point of baring his soul, for Hawkeye to ignore him?

"If you're going to be snarky about this, then save us all the bother and tell me straight," Trapper said. "Will you ever come and see us?"

"Us?"

"The Society - at reunions - BJ, Charles, Radar, me - any of us, ever - should I keep your address on record?"

Hawkeye watched Trapper watch Hawkeye for several long minutes.

Finally, Hawkeye said, "Goodbye, Trapper."

Trapper got to his feet. "Is that all I get?" he asked.

Hawkeye thought some more.

"Yes," he said, nodding to himself. "Yes it is."

Trapper felt like hanging his head, but managed somehow, to say, "Then goodbye, Hawk. Stay safe, and well, and…"

Trapper trailed off.

Because Hawkeye had already walked off.

He sighed, and added the last wish for Hawkeye he had.

"And human."

The train ride back to Boston felt like it lasted an age, and though Trapper wanted nothing more than to be anonymous, and alone, he couldn't be in the setting the carriage presented, with so many other people around. He wanted to be home already.

At the same time, he didn't want the journey to end, because he really didn't feel like telling Charles all about his last encounter with Hawkeye.

Trapper really didn't want to tell anybody, because it would smash their hearts.

Hawkeye could be as selfish and idiotic as he liked, but Trapper in no way relished the prospect of imposing Hawkeye's misery on others.

And yet, he knew, the others would leave him no choice.

Charles Winchester looked up from his desk at Boston Mercy the second Trapper entered the room, and asked, "Luck, McIntyre?"

Trapper felt the irony: Charles had given him a better welcome than Hawkeye had.

"None whatsoever," Trapper answered.

Charles scowled. "I hope he realises the company he's missing."

"Of course he does," Trapper said wearily, settling into one of Charles' soft, padded chairs. "He just doesn't care - clean slate, new life, as far as he's concerned."

"Surely he realises that's not how it works," said Harry, of whom Trapper had the distinct impression was grasping at straws.

"He doesn't want to listen, Charles," said Trapper. "He's done with the whole rotten deal - so are we - but he's finished with everything to do with that place, including the people."

"I think that's a crying shame," said Charles. "We'll see how independent he is when his plan fails-"

Trapper snapped, "Didn't you listen yourself, Charles? Hawk is never coming back into the fold - he's out, he quit - he never wants to see us again. He's not going to come crying to me or you a year down the line, he's going to make it work, because he doesn't want to think about Korea ever again, and the only way to do that is to not think about us!"

Trapper's outburst surprised Trapper himself: he slumped in the chair, eyes closed, frustration etched on his face.

Charles, by contrast, if he had been surprised, did not show that he had. Instead, he spoke, in a far gentler tone than he had previously, "Trapper, I suggest you cool down. If what you say is true, then your anger and upset will do nothing other than unsettle you, and I can't let that happen. Since I have been back in Boston, I have thought of you as the pillar of the 4077th community, rather than Pierce."

Hawkeye didn't want to be anything like that, not anymore.

But Trapper was happy to be something to his people.

"We can't have an unsettled leader," Charles continued quietly. "We need you."

"Yeah," said Trapper vaguely, opening his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry, Hawkeye made it clear, and I'm angry at him-"

"As am I," said Charles. "Do not think yourself alone in that. Potter will be the same."

"And I bet Margaret will be too," Trapper muttered.

"Yes," Charles agreed. "This will be the first time the two of you will be in agreement over something."

"What a lousy thing for us to agree over."

Charles grimaced his agreement. "Trapper, if you would rather, I will tell BJ the news."

Trapper sighed. "Hawkeye said some really horrible things about him."

"I won't mention that."

"But he's still got a soft spot for him."

Charles said, "How do you know?"

"I threatened to tell BJ that Hawkeye thought he was an old friend, as in a friend you no longer have anymore, and Hawkeye sort of begged me not to."

"I won't mention that," said Charles again.

"Do you think we should?" Trapper appealed.

Charles said, "In all honesty, I don't know. I've never had to handle anything like this before."

"Me neither."

"Why don't we both try?" Charles suggested.

Trapper said, "You can do most of the talking."

"I'd like you to be here, at least."

"I'll be here, but you're better at talking than I am."

Charles smiled at Trapper. "Thank you."

"Now, be careful, Charles: your ego's showing."

The two friends appraised each other.

Nothing had to be said between the two of them for either one to know how valued by the other he felt.

Eventually, Charles picked up his office phone, and carefully dialled the number for directing in-hospital calls.

"Doctor Winchester?"

"Yes. Could you please tell Doctor Hunnicutt his services are required in my office?"

Thank you very much for reading - any reviews would be most gratefully appreciated.