Another day, another fanfic. Well... I listened to the song 'I Will Follow You Into the Dark' by Death Cab for Cutie, and this is the love child (along with a 'Starsky and Hutch' two-parter. Sorry if this one is a bit weird. The next part (I'll not commit myself to half) i from BJ's PoV, while this first one is Hawkeye and Trapper AS FRIENDS.
Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own the wonderful characters of Hawkeye Pierce and 'Trapper' John McIntyre. Nor do I own BJ Hunnicutt in the next part of the story. I don't own the lyrics to 'I Will Follow You Into the Dark'. Death Cab for Cutie does.
I had only known you a day when I knew we would hit it off. You were funny and didn't want to be here. I was funny and didn't want to be here. We liked to play tricks, hated Frank Burns and the Army, and loved the nurses and drinking. It was only a week before we were inseparable, and, after just two weeks, we would be willing to do anything for each other, even die. We built the still in our tent for our own liver-rotting purposes… and to make Frank angry, of course. Oh, we pissed Frank and Hot Lips off so many times, it's hard to keep track of them all, isn't it? Trapper, we had such good times and some scary ones, too. Like the time we were headed back from the 8055th from dropping off a patient with the rest of his company, and the Chinese (or the North Koreans… whatever, they're both Communist and trying to kill us) shelled the road right in front of us. You slammed on the brakes so hard, we both probably should've gotten whiplash. We jumped out of the jeep and into the bushes with Olympic-athlete speed. Then, they blew up our jeep, too. Shrapnel just went all over the place, one piece grazing my neck, another tearing through the outside of your arm. You were frightened when I cried out in pain and grabbed my neck, blood trickling through my fingers. You hastily began scrambling to put your own hand over the wound.
"Wait, Trap, just look at it," I said, "We'll move our hands, and you have check on it. 'Kay, Trap?"
You looked very scared, but you nodded and took your hand from on top of mine. I made to move my hands, but I stopped. I was afraid it was bad; I didn't want to bleed out. I paused in fear for my life. Then you, ever so gently, moved my hands from my neck, and I wasn't scared anymore. You took off your Army shirt (you know, that awful green one we all had to wear all the time) and started ripping it up for a bandage for my neck. You didn't seem to care that night was falling, and that it was getting colder, and you probably wish you had on more than just your T-shirt later on. We moved closer together to keep each other warm but mostly to keep you warm. We were huddled in the underbrush, hoping the enemy didn't come marching down the road in front of us, especially since they would be able to hear us right away from how much we were shaking. You were shivering way more than I was, though. Eventually, without even asking, you snaked your arms around my waist, under my unbuttoned Army shirt, and I accepted it without a word, putting my own arms around you. It was there we remained until morning, and, when there was no sign of the enemy, we emerged from our hidey-hole.
"Well, Hawk, I guess we got a bit of a walk ahead of us," you said with that smirk you always have, "Better get started."
I agreed, so we began walking. It was not too far down the road when I stopped suddenly. You turned to look at me. All I said was "Your arm, Trap," and took one of the leftover pieces of shirt and bound up the wound. Once I had finished, we looked at each other for a moment. Then, we threw our arms around each other in the tightest embrace in the history of friendship. I don't know about you, but I, in that moment, decided that I would do anything for you, even follow you into the dark.
But, now, you're gone, Trap, and there is someone else, another man, sleeping in the bed you occupied only a night ago. And I am sitting here on my cot, writing this, not knowing if you'll ever read it… and I am crying softly, so I don't wake Frank or BJ (the new guy in your old cot). I miss you already… and I can't follow you anymore.
sniff Makes me a bit sad just reading it myself... and I wrote it! Anyhoo, just hold on for chapter 2!