Sightless Eyes
"Well?" demanded the doctor, staring intently at Hawkeye, who slowly pulled his hand away from his eyes and stared at it. The crowd watching took a collective breath as the blue orbs in question clouded with horror. "Nothing," Hawkeye said, his voice shaking. "I can't see my hand. It's in front of my face, right?" The eye doctor nodded slowly. "Yes, it is. Can you see any colours?" Hawkeye scrunched up his face. "White. It's like looking at a field of untrodden snow. And it's horrible."
The doctor stood up, grabbing his bag and re - taping the bandages around the other man's eyes. "Ok, I'll be back in a week." He shook Potter's hand, then walked out.
Potter, as well as the rest of the group clustered around the bed, turned to Hawkeye. He was visibly shaking, his hands trembling. He bit his lower lip until blood started to drip from it. "Jeez Hawk, be careful," BJ admonished, placing some gauze in Hawkeye's hand. He recoiled. "Please don't touch me right now," he pleaded, curling into a ball on the cot, back to the crowd.
Potter shooed the others away, motioning for BJ and Margaret to follow him. They hurried to a far corner of the ward.
"Colonel, what are we going to do?" Margaret demanded. "Our best surgeon can't even do the thing he's best at. We've got to do something." Potter nodded. "First thing we've got to do his put him under 24 hour surveillance. One of us has always gotta be with him. Boys who are blind can grow very suicidal very quickly - and if they know the room they're in, they can get around very well."
Both nodded. "I'll take first shift," BJ volunteered, checking his watch. "It's 0900 now, Margaret, come relieve me at 1500 hours, ok?"
"Right," Margaret replied, following the Colonel out of the room. "And both of you pray for no wounded," he called after them. "Don't worry, BJ, I'm doing that already," Father Mulcahy assured him, walking into the room.
At 1800 hours, Margaret was on "watch dog duty", as they had dubbed it. Hawkeye rolled over, his hand brushing her leg. She grinned as he felt her leg, trailing down to the knee and then back up. "Must be Major Houlihan," he concluded, a smirk on his face. "Bring that hand up one more inch and I'll make sure you're permanently blind," she threatened, not thinking as the words flew out of her mouth. "Oh God, Hawkeye, I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking," she said, brushing his hair back, worried at how quickly his expressions changed. "It's ok," he replied sourly.
A little while later, Hawkeye had fallen back asleep, and Margaret was talking with Kellye just outside of Post - Op. Hawkeye woke with a start, reaching his hand out to where Margaret - or someone - should have been. His stretching hand met the empty chair, and panic began to swell. "Margaret?" he called softly. "Anybody?" No reply. He sat straight up. "Margaret!"
Hearing his cry, Margaret thrust her clipboard at a surprised Kellye, and burst though the doors, spotting Hawkeye sitting bolt upright in his cot. She placed a hand on his shoulder, and he jumped at the touch. "Hey, it's me, relax," she soothed, smoothing back his tousled hair. He grabbed her hand. "Where were you?" he demanded. "Talking to Kellye, just outside," she replied, voice slightly strained, as he gripped her hand tightly. "Don't leave me like that," he begged, sounding so childlike and vulnerable. "Do you know what it's like to know that you can't see - and no one is there to guide you? Do you know how awful that is?"
"Hawkeye, calm down!" Margaret pleaded, frightened at his tone, so uncertain. Not a lot of things scared Hawkeye Pierce, but when he did get scared, he almost reverted back to a child. "I'm not going anywhere again, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking," she reassured him, stroking his hair gently. Soon, his breathing slowed, becoming regular, and she knew he was asleep. She tried to dislodge her hand, but he tightened his grip.
At that moment, Frank scuttled into Post - Op, grumbling about something - the late hours, Margaret assumed. He threw a scathing glance - or as close to a scathing glance as he could come to - in Hawkeye's general direction, then stopped and whirled around. "Margaret?" he whispered. Margaret winced. His voice was so nasal when he whispered. She sighed. "What, Frank?"
He began to whine. "Margaret, I though we had a date tonight. And then I come in here to find you with - " He paused to sneer half heartedly at Hawkeye. " - him?" Margaret rolled her eyes. "I don't have a choice, Frank, Colonel Potter put me on watch dog duty. I'll be off at 2300 hours. It's 9:48 now, I'm sure you can wait." She was beginning to wonder why she ever got involved with that whining weasel. "But why does anyone have to watch him?" Frank demanded. "It's not like he's gonna go wandering off - he's blind!" He giggled gleefully at his "joke".
"Frank, the Colonel thinks he might become suicidal." Frank paused. "What?" Margaret groaned inwardly. "He might kill himself." She wondered why to think of Hawkeye killing himself tightened her throat, and put a queasy feeling in her stomach. "Oh good," Frank exclaimed. "Then all we need is for Hunnicut to off himself, and all our problems would be over."
Margaret stood up, leaving her one hand in Hawkeye's. "Frank, get out," she ordered. "You're disturbing the patients." As if on cue, Hawkeye, and two other soldiers groaned. Frank raised a curious eyebrow at Margaret's hand firmly clamped in Hawkeye's, turned, and slunk out of the ward. He stopped at the door to look back at the couple. "Hmm," he mused. "So, our little Major is falling for the illustrious Captain Pierce. Time to remove this little charade, and show them how smart Frank Burns really is." He hurried back to the Swamp, plots already forming in his head.
***TBC***
I know, I know, it's your basic H/M plot, where Frank tries to intervene, and he's all intelligent and all - very over used plot, but who cares, in the immortal words of Henry Blake (R.I.P. Henry) "Here's an oldie, but a goodie." Please review!
"Well?" demanded the doctor, staring intently at Hawkeye, who slowly pulled his hand away from his eyes and stared at it. The crowd watching took a collective breath as the blue orbs in question clouded with horror. "Nothing," Hawkeye said, his voice shaking. "I can't see my hand. It's in front of my face, right?" The eye doctor nodded slowly. "Yes, it is. Can you see any colours?" Hawkeye scrunched up his face. "White. It's like looking at a field of untrodden snow. And it's horrible."
The doctor stood up, grabbing his bag and re - taping the bandages around the other man's eyes. "Ok, I'll be back in a week." He shook Potter's hand, then walked out.
Potter, as well as the rest of the group clustered around the bed, turned to Hawkeye. He was visibly shaking, his hands trembling. He bit his lower lip until blood started to drip from it. "Jeez Hawk, be careful," BJ admonished, placing some gauze in Hawkeye's hand. He recoiled. "Please don't touch me right now," he pleaded, curling into a ball on the cot, back to the crowd.
Potter shooed the others away, motioning for BJ and Margaret to follow him. They hurried to a far corner of the ward.
"Colonel, what are we going to do?" Margaret demanded. "Our best surgeon can't even do the thing he's best at. We've got to do something." Potter nodded. "First thing we've got to do his put him under 24 hour surveillance. One of us has always gotta be with him. Boys who are blind can grow very suicidal very quickly - and if they know the room they're in, they can get around very well."
Both nodded. "I'll take first shift," BJ volunteered, checking his watch. "It's 0900 now, Margaret, come relieve me at 1500 hours, ok?"
"Right," Margaret replied, following the Colonel out of the room. "And both of you pray for no wounded," he called after them. "Don't worry, BJ, I'm doing that already," Father Mulcahy assured him, walking into the room.
At 1800 hours, Margaret was on "watch dog duty", as they had dubbed it. Hawkeye rolled over, his hand brushing her leg. She grinned as he felt her leg, trailing down to the knee and then back up. "Must be Major Houlihan," he concluded, a smirk on his face. "Bring that hand up one more inch and I'll make sure you're permanently blind," she threatened, not thinking as the words flew out of her mouth. "Oh God, Hawkeye, I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking," she said, brushing his hair back, worried at how quickly his expressions changed. "It's ok," he replied sourly.
A little while later, Hawkeye had fallen back asleep, and Margaret was talking with Kellye just outside of Post - Op. Hawkeye woke with a start, reaching his hand out to where Margaret - or someone - should have been. His stretching hand met the empty chair, and panic began to swell. "Margaret?" he called softly. "Anybody?" No reply. He sat straight up. "Margaret!"
Hearing his cry, Margaret thrust her clipboard at a surprised Kellye, and burst though the doors, spotting Hawkeye sitting bolt upright in his cot. She placed a hand on his shoulder, and he jumped at the touch. "Hey, it's me, relax," she soothed, smoothing back his tousled hair. He grabbed her hand. "Where were you?" he demanded. "Talking to Kellye, just outside," she replied, voice slightly strained, as he gripped her hand tightly. "Don't leave me like that," he begged, sounding so childlike and vulnerable. "Do you know what it's like to know that you can't see - and no one is there to guide you? Do you know how awful that is?"
"Hawkeye, calm down!" Margaret pleaded, frightened at his tone, so uncertain. Not a lot of things scared Hawkeye Pierce, but when he did get scared, he almost reverted back to a child. "I'm not going anywhere again, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking," she reassured him, stroking his hair gently. Soon, his breathing slowed, becoming regular, and she knew he was asleep. She tried to dislodge her hand, but he tightened his grip.
At that moment, Frank scuttled into Post - Op, grumbling about something - the late hours, Margaret assumed. He threw a scathing glance - or as close to a scathing glance as he could come to - in Hawkeye's general direction, then stopped and whirled around. "Margaret?" he whispered. Margaret winced. His voice was so nasal when he whispered. She sighed. "What, Frank?"
He began to whine. "Margaret, I though we had a date tonight. And then I come in here to find you with - " He paused to sneer half heartedly at Hawkeye. " - him?" Margaret rolled her eyes. "I don't have a choice, Frank, Colonel Potter put me on watch dog duty. I'll be off at 2300 hours. It's 9:48 now, I'm sure you can wait." She was beginning to wonder why she ever got involved with that whining weasel. "But why does anyone have to watch him?" Frank demanded. "It's not like he's gonna go wandering off - he's blind!" He giggled gleefully at his "joke".
"Frank, the Colonel thinks he might become suicidal." Frank paused. "What?" Margaret groaned inwardly. "He might kill himself." She wondered why to think of Hawkeye killing himself tightened her throat, and put a queasy feeling in her stomach. "Oh good," Frank exclaimed. "Then all we need is for Hunnicut to off himself, and all our problems would be over."
Margaret stood up, leaving her one hand in Hawkeye's. "Frank, get out," she ordered. "You're disturbing the patients." As if on cue, Hawkeye, and two other soldiers groaned. Frank raised a curious eyebrow at Margaret's hand firmly clamped in Hawkeye's, turned, and slunk out of the ward. He stopped at the door to look back at the couple. "Hmm," he mused. "So, our little Major is falling for the illustrious Captain Pierce. Time to remove this little charade, and show them how smart Frank Burns really is." He hurried back to the Swamp, plots already forming in his head.
***TBC***
I know, I know, it's your basic H/M plot, where Frank tries to intervene, and he's all intelligent and all - very over used plot, but who cares, in the immortal words of Henry Blake (R.I.P. Henry) "Here's an oldie, but a goodie." Please review!