A/N: Just a short drabble about the death of Hawkeye's Father. Sorry about the editing and formatting problems.

Disclaimer: I don't own MASH, I just obsess about it every night and day.

His breaths came in short gasps now. He was a doctor he knew it was time.
"Don't worry Dad. It's gonna be all right." I clasped the wrinkled hand tightly. His hand. He squeezed mine lightly. He would not be alone in the end. I would make sure of it. The raspy breaths suddenly ceased and his hand went limp in mine. He was gone. I had not allowed myself to cry yet. Not when I found out about his illness. Not when I found out how much time he had left. Now though, that he was gone, I became weak. I sobbed helplessly over his still body. My rock, my hero was gone. It seemed like forever when I finally wiped my tears away. I looked toward our old clock that still ticked away. The tick it made seemed to be magnified in the room's dead silence. The bedside table was covered in medicines that would now prove useless. It was ironic almost. He had seen the symptoms, he could have caught the disease before it progressed but it was too late now. He wrote down the time of death on his prescription pad. 10:50 AM. He lifted himself from the bed slowly, joints aching from the all night vigil. He hadn't felt this fatigued since his days in Korea. Oh how long ago had that been. Then his father had been his rock and just a few short hours ago the tables had been turned. He had fulfilled the debt to his Father in the end. Personally he thought there was no way he could repay the man who had raised him in any way.

He called the coroner, and the local funeral home. It was a small town and they had all known that his father's time on Earth had been coming to a close. He told them all to arrive in a couple of hours. He needed some time alone with his father. His Father's suit was laid out across the extra bed. He had wanted to be buried in it.

About an hour later his father was ready. He lay still on the bed dressed up in his best tux and hair combed the way he liked it. Hawkeye stared somberly at his father.
"Well Dad. They're coming in about 20 minutes. What do you want to do?"
Of course he didn't reply. Hawkeye hadn't expected him to. He patted the dead mans hand lightly. Then he saw it. The Last of the Mohicans, his Dad's favorite book. Hawkeye reached toward it. His Father's favorite passage was marked carefully with a satin bow. All was silent as Hawkeye began to read. Rest in peace Dad.