Frank wasn't with Hotlips. He was in VIP tent again. He knew that he had
to go back to the Swamp eventually, but couldn't face it yet. After the
way those animals had humiliated him this afternoon. He knew what they
were up to, but he couldn't prove otherwise. But he'd get them for it.
Frank had already started to formulate a plan to stop those two perverts
before . . . He didn't know what he was expecting them to do, only that
they must be stopped. Again his mind started to drift . . .
"Daddy, stop. Please stop," Frank begged.
"Shut up. If your mother finds out she'll be very angry. We don't want to make Mummy angry do we?"
"No Daddy," Frank lay silent and unmoving, waiting for his father to finish.
A knock on the door ended the nightmare. "Frank?" Margaret called gently.
"Go away."
"It's me."
"I know. I said go away."
Margaret opened the door, "Darling, what's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Frank dear, you can tell me."
"Go way."
"Okay, I'll come back later though."
"Don't bother."
Frank rolled over and went back to planning how to stop McIntyre and Pierce. All of a sudden the abstract plan in the back of his mind blossomed. He knew what he was going to do, now he just had to figure out how and when he was going to do it.
Meanwhile, Trapper and Hawkeye were having a great time. They lay spooned together on the blanket. Hawkeye thought about the number of nurses he had taken to this very spot. None of them seemed to matter now that he had Trapper. Since they had been stationed together, Hawkeye had longed to touch him and taste him, and now he was being given his chance. He spent the days looking at Trapper, and Trapper was always looking back.
Trapper had always been less sure. Hawkeye had become a warm comforting presence, who was as much a part of him as his right leg. He had often felt things for Hawkeye but smothered them. He was still charading as a married man and being a loving father. They had been unconsciously drawn together, always seeking contact without meaning to. Squishing next to each other in the Mess Tent, leaning on each other, casually draping their arms around each other.
They made the most of their privacy, exploring bodies, noting sensitive spots, getting to know each other on a whole knew level. Before they could get into anything to serious choppers interrupted them. Trapper rolled his eyes, "Yeah, 48 hours without casualties."
"Come on Superman, we have work to do."
"Just a tick Batman. I need to find my shirt."
"You mean this," Hawkeye grinned, holding the offending shirt.
"Yeah, that's it. Can I have it back now?"
"It'll cost you 2 kisses."
He gave him four. "Now I want 2 change."
With one last cuddle they made themselves as respectable as they ever were and headed toward the camp. The duo arrived at camp to find that there were four patients for them. There were two lacerations that needed suturing, an appendectomy and a tonsillectomy. Hawkeye was disgusted, "We stopped for this?"
"It would appear so."
"Aren't there anymore serious cases?"
"I hope not."
"Me too."
Trapper finished his patients first. "I'll wait for you in the Swamp." McIntyre slowly headed out of the OR. He was dawdling back to their tent when Radar cam up behind him. "Captain McIntyre, Colonel Blake told me to tell you that there is a conference tomorrow night and 2100 hours."
"When is that in people time and who is coming?"
"9 pm and Captain Pak and Major Freedman."
"We'll be there." Trapper turned and continued on his merry way, eventually reaching the Swamp, where he collapsed on his cot.
Hawkeye was about 10 minutes behind him. He arrived home to find Trapper half on, half off the cot with his boot on. Hawkeye pulled off the boots as gently as possible and the tried to pull his blanket out from under him. He gave up after a few minutes, instead moving his friend so all of him was on the bed. Hawkeye grabbed his own blanket and threw it over Trapper's sleeping form. He planted a gentle kiss on Trap's forehead and climbed onto his own cot, using his and Trapper's dressing gowns as blankets.
Meanwhile, Frank was in the VIP tent, still working out the finer points of his plan. He would call them into the OR. . . . No, that wouldn't work, he would call them into the lab. Yes, that's the place. Then he would make the strip, then. . .
There was a knock on his door, "Major Burns," Margaret called. "I really need to speak to you again." She came in and sat on the cot.
"I have a headache Margaret," he said, using one of her favourite excuses.
"Come on Frank, what's wrong?"
"For the last time, nothing is wrong." There was an edge in his voice Margaret hadn't heard before.
"Then why won't you talk to me?"
"There's nothing to talk about," this time he was cold and clinical, sending a chill down Margaret's spine. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go to sleep."
Margaret got up and left without kicking up a fuss. This was only a minor setback, Frank would get over whatever it was and everything would be back to normal. She went back to her tent and went to sleep.
Frank stayed up a little while longer before he slipped into a deep slumber.
Trapper woke with the sun. He looked over to Frank's bunk and saw it was empty, again. This was really starting to worry him. In every aspect Frank had been pulling further away from everyone, even Margaret. Trapper had noticed that they seemed to have hit a cold spot. Surely Frank would've gotten over it by now. He decided to talk to Hawkeye about it during the day. He'd know what to do, he always did.
Hawkeye stirred over in his bunk. "Morning? Already?"
"Uh-huh."
Hawkeye groaned, "Those damn birds'll be starting in a minute."
As if cued by his words the symphony of the morning started. Hawkeye groaned again then muttered something ending with an obscenity.
"What was that Hawk?"
"Nothing important, just expressing my bitter and cynical opinion."
"Oh, is that all? As long as it's nothing too important. Ready for breakfast?"
"Can't," he looked at his watch, "I'm going on duty 5 minutes ago."
"Have fun. Try not drown in casualties."
Hawkeye continued to grumble as he got dressed and left. Trapper blew a kiss to his departing figure. Hawkeye turned around and pulled a face. Trapper shot him a good-humoured grin and little wave, receiving the glimmer of a smile in return.
"Daddy, stop. Please stop," Frank begged.
"Shut up. If your mother finds out she'll be very angry. We don't want to make Mummy angry do we?"
"No Daddy," Frank lay silent and unmoving, waiting for his father to finish.
A knock on the door ended the nightmare. "Frank?" Margaret called gently.
"Go away."
"It's me."
"I know. I said go away."
Margaret opened the door, "Darling, what's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Frank dear, you can tell me."
"Go way."
"Okay, I'll come back later though."
"Don't bother."
Frank rolled over and went back to planning how to stop McIntyre and Pierce. All of a sudden the abstract plan in the back of his mind blossomed. He knew what he was going to do, now he just had to figure out how and when he was going to do it.
Meanwhile, Trapper and Hawkeye were having a great time. They lay spooned together on the blanket. Hawkeye thought about the number of nurses he had taken to this very spot. None of them seemed to matter now that he had Trapper. Since they had been stationed together, Hawkeye had longed to touch him and taste him, and now he was being given his chance. He spent the days looking at Trapper, and Trapper was always looking back.
Trapper had always been less sure. Hawkeye had become a warm comforting presence, who was as much a part of him as his right leg. He had often felt things for Hawkeye but smothered them. He was still charading as a married man and being a loving father. They had been unconsciously drawn together, always seeking contact without meaning to. Squishing next to each other in the Mess Tent, leaning on each other, casually draping their arms around each other.
They made the most of their privacy, exploring bodies, noting sensitive spots, getting to know each other on a whole knew level. Before they could get into anything to serious choppers interrupted them. Trapper rolled his eyes, "Yeah, 48 hours without casualties."
"Come on Superman, we have work to do."
"Just a tick Batman. I need to find my shirt."
"You mean this," Hawkeye grinned, holding the offending shirt.
"Yeah, that's it. Can I have it back now?"
"It'll cost you 2 kisses."
He gave him four. "Now I want 2 change."
With one last cuddle they made themselves as respectable as they ever were and headed toward the camp. The duo arrived at camp to find that there were four patients for them. There were two lacerations that needed suturing, an appendectomy and a tonsillectomy. Hawkeye was disgusted, "We stopped for this?"
"It would appear so."
"Aren't there anymore serious cases?"
"I hope not."
"Me too."
Trapper finished his patients first. "I'll wait for you in the Swamp." McIntyre slowly headed out of the OR. He was dawdling back to their tent when Radar cam up behind him. "Captain McIntyre, Colonel Blake told me to tell you that there is a conference tomorrow night and 2100 hours."
"When is that in people time and who is coming?"
"9 pm and Captain Pak and Major Freedman."
"We'll be there." Trapper turned and continued on his merry way, eventually reaching the Swamp, where he collapsed on his cot.
Hawkeye was about 10 minutes behind him. He arrived home to find Trapper half on, half off the cot with his boot on. Hawkeye pulled off the boots as gently as possible and the tried to pull his blanket out from under him. He gave up after a few minutes, instead moving his friend so all of him was on the bed. Hawkeye grabbed his own blanket and threw it over Trapper's sleeping form. He planted a gentle kiss on Trap's forehead and climbed onto his own cot, using his and Trapper's dressing gowns as blankets.
Meanwhile, Frank was in the VIP tent, still working out the finer points of his plan. He would call them into the OR. . . . No, that wouldn't work, he would call them into the lab. Yes, that's the place. Then he would make the strip, then. . .
There was a knock on his door, "Major Burns," Margaret called. "I really need to speak to you again." She came in and sat on the cot.
"I have a headache Margaret," he said, using one of her favourite excuses.
"Come on Frank, what's wrong?"
"For the last time, nothing is wrong." There was an edge in his voice Margaret hadn't heard before.
"Then why won't you talk to me?"
"There's nothing to talk about," this time he was cold and clinical, sending a chill down Margaret's spine. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go to sleep."
Margaret got up and left without kicking up a fuss. This was only a minor setback, Frank would get over whatever it was and everything would be back to normal. She went back to her tent and went to sleep.
Frank stayed up a little while longer before he slipped into a deep slumber.
Trapper woke with the sun. He looked over to Frank's bunk and saw it was empty, again. This was really starting to worry him. In every aspect Frank had been pulling further away from everyone, even Margaret. Trapper had noticed that they seemed to have hit a cold spot. Surely Frank would've gotten over it by now. He decided to talk to Hawkeye about it during the day. He'd know what to do, he always did.
Hawkeye stirred over in his bunk. "Morning? Already?"
"Uh-huh."
Hawkeye groaned, "Those damn birds'll be starting in a minute."
As if cued by his words the symphony of the morning started. Hawkeye groaned again then muttered something ending with an obscenity.
"What was that Hawk?"
"Nothing important, just expressing my bitter and cynical opinion."
"Oh, is that all? As long as it's nothing too important. Ready for breakfast?"
"Can't," he looked at his watch, "I'm going on duty 5 minutes ago."
"Have fun. Try not drown in casualties."
Hawkeye continued to grumble as he got dressed and left. Trapper blew a kiss to his departing figure. Hawkeye turned around and pulled a face. Trapper shot him a good-humoured grin and little wave, receiving the glimmer of a smile in return.