I don't know how long they were in surgery. It was daylight again when I apparently woke up, not that I remember falling asleep in the first place. My pillow was soaked with tears and sweat (disgusting). My mouth was filled with bits of army-issue pillow that tasted like mothballs.
"Shhh, not so loud, Trap, you'll wake him."
"Hawk, I can't read any quieter."
"Give it here." Pierce grabbed the piece of paper from McIntyre's hands. At least, that's what it sounded like. I didn't want to show my face in camp again, and that included my tent-sharers.
"Wow… I had no idea…" Pierce, elaborate. I have no hope of finding out what's going on if you don't say anything.
"What do you think Frank'll say?"
"Who knows… he could say anything, no one knows how his head works these days… ever since he went AWOL he's been a different person."
"Almost bearable, you think, Hawk?"
"Oh, I could always bear Frank. He rabbited on a bit, but for the most part he squirreled out of tight spots."
"Boom-tish. Look, I gotta go do Post-Op. I'll see you around."
"Yeah, see you, Trap."
Bang. Closing doors quietly had always been beyond McIntyre. At least they were closed at all… he must have finally realised he didn't live in a tent.
Pierce's cot creaked as always. Never oiled the thing. If I had a dollar for all the Army regulations he's flouted I would be a very rich man indeed…hee hee hee, riches… might try that. Not that I have much in the way of riches… it's all hers now…
"Frank, he's gone, you can wake up now."
"But I… I am waken up! I mean, er, I am capable of waking up myself! I don't need Captain Degenerate to remind me!"
"Ah, so I'm Captain Degenerate! And you're Major Ego! Major Adulterer! Major Pain-In-The-Gluteus-Maximus!"
"Major Ad–! You can't talk, Captain Womaniser!"
"Captain Womaniser! May I remind you that I am not having an affair behind my wife's back! At least I'm single!"
That hurt. He really set out to hurt me that time. He was reading my letter! My – hadn't I thrown that in the fire?
He would have known I no longer had a wife to cheat on.
"All right, you – where's the letter?"
Immediately I caught sight of it resting on Pierce's pillow. I'd recognise that stationery anywhere. She only used it on special occasions – like divorcing me! How dare he? That was my personal correspondence! I only read his letters when they're not lying around asking to be looked over!
Our eyes met. I was furious, shaking, angry beyond words. Pierce seemed as nonchalant as ever, as if reading others' mail meant nothing to him. He doesn't need to read my mail! He gets enough of his own! Almost every day there's more frigging mail for Captain Pierce. Never for Major Burns.
"Why are we squabbling? Why are you so irritated I took the trouble to find out what was bothering you? I walk in after a wonderful OR session – take or leave the sarcasm – to find you nearly suffocating yourself with a pillow. In keeping with my lucidity of the past few weeks, I think 'What's happened to Frank?' and aim to find out."
"But… why do you care?"
"Because I have to put up with you. Court-martials tend to raise morale and I have to lower it again."
Of course. The court-martial. Desertion, conduct unbecoming of an officer, insubordination. Blake had, for once, insisted on pressing charges. Said that he was sick of me "prancing around the camp, leaving morale in the gutter." Not even Margaret had tried to stop him. As if morale would be raised with news of my court-martial. I, for one, felt miserable.
Then again, why would things be any different? Captain Pierce never liked me. The first time he set foot on this post, he smiled his little smirk-smile, waved, and called out "Hiya, Ferret Face." Not a trace of military correctness to be seen – no salute, no "Major Burns," no polish on his shoes. His tie was askew. Tsk, I had thought to myself. If one wishes to make a good impression, one does not wear one's tie askew! Eventually, I realised Pierce had no plans to make a good impression. No respect for the United States Army! No respect for his superiors, especially me.
Louise had left me, Margaret had left me. The only women who had ever loved Frank Burns. I bet those voodoo dolls were getting a workout. That sinking feeling in one's heart, that feeling of hopelessness, of despair. Louise was never coming back. Margaret had had enough of me, the cheating, spineless scum. Me, not her. McIntyre used me as a jokester's guinea pig. Never did he play jokes on Pierce. Always me. Col. Blake didn't care, as long as I wasn't making more work for him. Not that he would ever do his own work, of course, that was always Corporal O'Reilly's job.
And Pierce? Benjamin Pierce, whom everyone called Hawkeye? Sure, he chased every nurse in the camp. He would partake in excessive alcohol consumption, tonight and every night. He owned more nudist magazines than medical journals, I am quite sure. Yet there was something beneath that, under the happy, joking façade. There was a heart somewhere there. I'd seen it.
"Frank? Hello, war to Frank, anyone home?"
"Oh, stuff it. I know when you're bluffing."
"You know, do you? You lost twenty-five dollars last week. Bluffing just isn't your style, Frank."
"Go soak your head," I barked.
Pierce shuffled along, back to his cot. Not that he'd ever come anywhere near mine. Degenerate pig. "Fine. You want me to give up? You want me to watch you spiralling downwards into a heap no one can or will drag up? Fine. But don't come snivelling to me!"
Bang. At least he closed the door.
Bravo, Frank, you FOOL!
I was quite alone. The last link with the real world, the world I'd hated and grown accustomed to, had just stomped out en route to the Officer's Club. Now I was all to myself! I would go to that court-martial and show them what an officer I was, that Pierce and McIntyre needed to be stamped our immediately. Immediately!
I sat down at my desk to write a letter. I even got as far as "Dear Louise" before I realised two things. Firstly, she wouldn't want a letter from me, except perhaps as fire kindling. Secondly, I still had to fill out the papers and send them back. What if I didn't fill them out? Then I'd still have my money and the kids wouldn't move to Alaska! Brilliant! Hehehe…. no. That wouldn't work. She'd find another way, her and that… that Patrick!
You know what's coming next… give me reviews or give me death! Kidding. Death would be quite inconvenient, especially as I would be unable to write more fanfiction.