Thanks to all who reviewed, and HUGS! to broncobabe - I was really
surprised to see you liked and wanted more of my story - you (and Fallen
Hawk, and Raven) are the M*A*S*H Slash Queens, as far as I'm concerned, so
I just wanted to say thank you so much!***WARNING***This chapter contains
coarse language, suicidal tendencies (cutting and such), and m/m
situations. Don't b*itch to me if you don't like it, cause YOU HAVE BEEN
WARNED.
Our Story
Chapter 3: Discomfort
Trapper's POV
I sat there for about 10 minutes after Hawkeye stomped out, lost in thought. I knew I loved him with all my heart, but I also loved my children. Louise was the farthest thing from my mind at the time - my kids came first, and Hawkeye next. How could I abandon my flesh and blood? Then again, how could I abandon the only real soul mate I'd ever have?
I got up and poured myself a martini, took one sip, and hurled it across the tent. It crashed into Frank's shelves and exploded, sending shards of glass flying everywhere. Instinctively, I threw up my arms to protect my face. A sharp pain in my wrist stunned me momentarily. I gazed, transfixed at the stream of scarlet blood spurting from an artery. I let it drip down my arm, almost hypnotized. A voice pierced my haze.
"Captain McIntyre? Trapper!" I jerked out of my daze to find a concerned looking Radar pressing a t - shirt to my wrist. "You ok? What happened? Did you cut yourself?" His questions didn't irritate me as much as his attempts to still my bleeding. I pulled away from him. "I'm fine. I..dropped my glass, and it broke. Some of the glass flew up and cut my wrist. I'll go bandage it..Radar, you haven't seen Hawkeye, have you?" He shrugged. "Nope." I left, holding my wrist and squeezing gently, trying to produce more blood, to replace that which Radar mopped up.
As I pushed open the doors to Post - Op, my eyes met the eyes of the last person on earth I wanted to see right then.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Hawkeye's POV
I stalked across the compound, nearly ripping the door to Post - Op off its hinges. Radar stared at me, but I stormed past him, not in a talking mood. I sat down at the desk in the corner, pulling some reports towards me, and fiercely scrawling the words.
The door banged open, and - damn it - Trapper came in. I stood to confront him, but my words died as I saw the blood dripping from his arm - and he was making no effort to stop it.
"What the hell happened?" I demanded, wrapping a bandage around his injury. "Dropped the martini glass. It shattered, and the glass cut me," he replied dully. His gorgeous hazel eyes were slightly glassy. "I think I'm gonna put you on an IV," I decided. He shook his head. "I'm fine. I didn't lose that much blood. Just tie it up." I obeyed, frowning at the slightly wobbliness in his stance. I found myself wondering how much he wasn't telling me.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Trapper's POV
Hawk finished with my arm, and I left abruptly, without a word. I returned to the Swamp, grateful that Radar was gone - and pissed that he'd cleaned up the glass. I dropped onto my bunk and fell asleep.
I sat up and glanced at my watch. 8:00. Hawkeye would be off soon. As I looked around, a flash caught my eye. Radar had missed a rather large, jagged, wicked looking piece of glass. I picked it up carefully, studying it. Putting it down on the table, I slowly peeled back the bandage, revealing the long pinkish white slice on my skin. Taking a deep breath, I picked up the glass - and slowly, agonizingly, drew the jagged edge over my wrist, breaking open the skin, watching the blood begin to pour. I repeated this process twice, before replacing the bandage, watching the blood soak into it rather quickly. I pulled it off, ripped the already bloodstained t - shirt Radar had used into a tourniquet, and wrapped it around my hand, then reapplied the bandage. Grabbing a light jacket, I left the Swamp, heading for a large rock just outside the camp, settling down in the gathering dark.
I searched my pockets, coming up with a package of cigarettes and a matchbook. Success! Hawk had hidden my smokes for awhile, slowly breaking me of the habit. For weeks now, I hadn't really wanted one bad enough to look for them, and now, here they were, in my jacket. I pulled one out, lit it, and took a long, calming drag.
Suddenly, a hand flashed past my eyes, smacking the cigarette out of my mouth. "Shit," I swore, gazing up into the peacock blue eyes of Hawkeye Pierce. He frowned. "I thought you quit," he chastised. "Fuck you," I replied, not in the mood for his lectures. I picked up the cigarette, shook the dirt free, and relit it. He smirked. "I know you want to, but now is not the time." I answered by showing him my middle finger, dragging on the soothing cigarette. He sighed, sitting next to me on the huge, flat rock.
"I'm sorry about earlier. I overreacted. I know what would happen to you if we were caught." I nodded absently, not really listening. "S'okay. It's not a big deal."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Hawkeye's POV
I watched him expel the smoke luxuriously, mildly annoyed. He knew I had finally kicked the habit, and here he was, sitting not a foot away, puffing on the one thing I wanted more than anything. I fought for a while, but my self control wasn't strong enough, and the craving won. "Gimme one," I demanded. He handed it to me, looking mildly surprised. "I thought YOU quit, Mr. Nicotine Freak," he commented, crushing the butt under his boot. "It's all your fault, you dumbass," I replied, striking a match and pulling deeply on the cigarette, ashamed for giving up so easily.
He grinned impishly. "My ass may be dumb," he agreed. "But that doesn't stop you from enjoying it oh so much." Growling low in my throat, I tossed aside the cigarette and straddled him, pushing him down on his back, forcefully pressing his lips to mine. This was not tender lovemaking, as all our other times had been, this was harsh, with one goal - revenge - and I wasn't sure how he would handle it.
After, I got up, and headed back to the Swamp. As I threw my shirt onto my bunk, I noticed a brownish red stain, that hadn't been there before. Looking closer, I identified it - something I saw much too much of around here. Blood - and exactly where Trapper's left arm had been pressed for most of the time. It had been hours since he cut himself, it would have stopped bleeding - unless he was tampering. Suddenly not comfortable with him being alone, I ran back to the rock - only to find he wasn't there.
***TBC***
Sorry bout the delay, everybody, but I haven't been feeling very creative lately - plus I have exams this week. Yes, I know, this chapter took a turn for the worst - I said I wasn't creative, I never said I wasn't morbid. Please review.
Our Story
Chapter 3: Discomfort
Trapper's POV
I sat there for about 10 minutes after Hawkeye stomped out, lost in thought. I knew I loved him with all my heart, but I also loved my children. Louise was the farthest thing from my mind at the time - my kids came first, and Hawkeye next. How could I abandon my flesh and blood? Then again, how could I abandon the only real soul mate I'd ever have?
I got up and poured myself a martini, took one sip, and hurled it across the tent. It crashed into Frank's shelves and exploded, sending shards of glass flying everywhere. Instinctively, I threw up my arms to protect my face. A sharp pain in my wrist stunned me momentarily. I gazed, transfixed at the stream of scarlet blood spurting from an artery. I let it drip down my arm, almost hypnotized. A voice pierced my haze.
"Captain McIntyre? Trapper!" I jerked out of my daze to find a concerned looking Radar pressing a t - shirt to my wrist. "You ok? What happened? Did you cut yourself?" His questions didn't irritate me as much as his attempts to still my bleeding. I pulled away from him. "I'm fine. I..dropped my glass, and it broke. Some of the glass flew up and cut my wrist. I'll go bandage it..Radar, you haven't seen Hawkeye, have you?" He shrugged. "Nope." I left, holding my wrist and squeezing gently, trying to produce more blood, to replace that which Radar mopped up.
As I pushed open the doors to Post - Op, my eyes met the eyes of the last person on earth I wanted to see right then.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Hawkeye's POV
I stalked across the compound, nearly ripping the door to Post - Op off its hinges. Radar stared at me, but I stormed past him, not in a talking mood. I sat down at the desk in the corner, pulling some reports towards me, and fiercely scrawling the words.
The door banged open, and - damn it - Trapper came in. I stood to confront him, but my words died as I saw the blood dripping from his arm - and he was making no effort to stop it.
"What the hell happened?" I demanded, wrapping a bandage around his injury. "Dropped the martini glass. It shattered, and the glass cut me," he replied dully. His gorgeous hazel eyes were slightly glassy. "I think I'm gonna put you on an IV," I decided. He shook his head. "I'm fine. I didn't lose that much blood. Just tie it up." I obeyed, frowning at the slightly wobbliness in his stance. I found myself wondering how much he wasn't telling me.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Trapper's POV
Hawk finished with my arm, and I left abruptly, without a word. I returned to the Swamp, grateful that Radar was gone - and pissed that he'd cleaned up the glass. I dropped onto my bunk and fell asleep.
I sat up and glanced at my watch. 8:00. Hawkeye would be off soon. As I looked around, a flash caught my eye. Radar had missed a rather large, jagged, wicked looking piece of glass. I picked it up carefully, studying it. Putting it down on the table, I slowly peeled back the bandage, revealing the long pinkish white slice on my skin. Taking a deep breath, I picked up the glass - and slowly, agonizingly, drew the jagged edge over my wrist, breaking open the skin, watching the blood begin to pour. I repeated this process twice, before replacing the bandage, watching the blood soak into it rather quickly. I pulled it off, ripped the already bloodstained t - shirt Radar had used into a tourniquet, and wrapped it around my hand, then reapplied the bandage. Grabbing a light jacket, I left the Swamp, heading for a large rock just outside the camp, settling down in the gathering dark.
I searched my pockets, coming up with a package of cigarettes and a matchbook. Success! Hawk had hidden my smokes for awhile, slowly breaking me of the habit. For weeks now, I hadn't really wanted one bad enough to look for them, and now, here they were, in my jacket. I pulled one out, lit it, and took a long, calming drag.
Suddenly, a hand flashed past my eyes, smacking the cigarette out of my mouth. "Shit," I swore, gazing up into the peacock blue eyes of Hawkeye Pierce. He frowned. "I thought you quit," he chastised. "Fuck you," I replied, not in the mood for his lectures. I picked up the cigarette, shook the dirt free, and relit it. He smirked. "I know you want to, but now is not the time." I answered by showing him my middle finger, dragging on the soothing cigarette. He sighed, sitting next to me on the huge, flat rock.
"I'm sorry about earlier. I overreacted. I know what would happen to you if we were caught." I nodded absently, not really listening. "S'okay. It's not a big deal."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Hawkeye's POV
I watched him expel the smoke luxuriously, mildly annoyed. He knew I had finally kicked the habit, and here he was, sitting not a foot away, puffing on the one thing I wanted more than anything. I fought for a while, but my self control wasn't strong enough, and the craving won. "Gimme one," I demanded. He handed it to me, looking mildly surprised. "I thought YOU quit, Mr. Nicotine Freak," he commented, crushing the butt under his boot. "It's all your fault, you dumbass," I replied, striking a match and pulling deeply on the cigarette, ashamed for giving up so easily.
He grinned impishly. "My ass may be dumb," he agreed. "But that doesn't stop you from enjoying it oh so much." Growling low in my throat, I tossed aside the cigarette and straddled him, pushing him down on his back, forcefully pressing his lips to mine. This was not tender lovemaking, as all our other times had been, this was harsh, with one goal - revenge - and I wasn't sure how he would handle it.
After, I got up, and headed back to the Swamp. As I threw my shirt onto my bunk, I noticed a brownish red stain, that hadn't been there before. Looking closer, I identified it - something I saw much too much of around here. Blood - and exactly where Trapper's left arm had been pressed for most of the time. It had been hours since he cut himself, it would have stopped bleeding - unless he was tampering. Suddenly not comfortable with him being alone, I ran back to the rock - only to find he wasn't there.
***TBC***
Sorry bout the delay, everybody, but I haven't been feeling very creative lately - plus I have exams this week. Yes, I know, this chapter took a turn for the worst - I said I wasn't creative, I never said I wasn't morbid. Please review.