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Our Story
Chapter 6: Reconciliation
I stomped out of the Swamp, my blood at full boil. Who the hell did he think he was, telling me what to do, ordering me around as if I was a kid. I walked away, heading south, not going anywhere in particular, when I bumped into Margaret. "Hi Trapper," she greeted, carelessly throwing me a glance. At the sight of my clenched fists and narrowed eyes, she stopped, looking concerned. "What's up?" she asked, gently touching my arm. I jerked my head in the direction of the Swamp. "Hawkeye," I replied sharply. She smiled sadly. "Come with me to the Mess Tent. We'll talk over a cup of crap – sorry, coffee." I laughed, happy at the sight of a joking, carefree Margaret, instead of the uptight, no nonsense one I was used to. She pulled me to the Mess Tent, and plunked me at a table, placing a coffee cup in front of me. "Sit. Drink."
I grinned cheekily, sticking out my tongue and panting like a dog. She rolled her eyes. "Stay, Fido." I laughed. So she did have a sense of humour. She opened her mouth, obviously to say something, but a jeep honked outside, making it look as if she had honked. I cracked up, causing her to crack up, and people around us to stare. I stood, still laughing, to see who was honking.
An older, stern – looking man sat in a jeep, which was parked next to Radar. The young man was leaning against the building, topless and eyes shut, holding a tanning card (A/N: I have *no* idea what that silver cardboard Radar was tanning with is called, so I gave it a name. If anyone knows, please tell me, and I'll correct it.) to reflect the sun onto his chest. The older man stared patiently, before honking the horn again, rather impatiently. "Stick that horn in your ear," Radar snapped, eyes still closed. The man's mouth twitched, as if he was trying to hold back a smile, but he succeeded, hopping out of the jeep. "On your feet, son, I'm Colonel Potter." I gaped. This guy, with his birds firmly pinned to his collar, was our new C.O? He looked RA, and if he was, we were done for.
Meanwhile, Radar shrieked slightly, dropping the card and standing, saluting with one arm held over his bare chest. "I'm sorry sir," he stammered. Potter returned the salute, freeing Radar's other arm. "Permission to cover up my nakedidity?" he stumbled, reaching for his shirt. Potter nodded, and Radar scrambled into his shirt, ushering the Colonel into the office.
I burst out laughing, Margaret beside me. "Oh, poor Radar," she sympathized. "I feel sorry for him," I agreed. "That guy's regular army." Margaret smacked my arm. "What's wrong with being RA?" she demanded. I simply rolled my eyes. She pulled me back to the table. "So, spill your guts," she urged. I took a sip of coffee – dumb idea – and peered into the cup, grimacing. "If I drink this shit, I most certainly will," I commented. She stared at me, before snorting with laughter, causing me to start up again. Needless to say, we didn't talk about much.
That evening, we both had Post – Op duty. On our break, Margaret pulled me outside. "Ok, now talk," she ordered, sitting on a crate. "Ok. Hawk…I don't know what's gotten into him, lately. He's moody, possessive, jealous, snippy – if he was a woman, I'd think he was PMSing." She shot me a "you have know idea what you're talking about, so don't joke about it" look. "He's been trying to order me around…and it's really starting to piss me off!"
She smiled. "Trap, don't let him get to you. He's just in a mood. I don't know why, but he'll take a while to get his head on straight. Don't give up the one person that loves you. Aside from me, of course." I choked on the growing lump in my throat. Margaret continued. "Hawkeye has his little quirks and idiosyncrasies, that's what makes him so loveable – most of the time. But don't drop him just because he's a little more quirky than usual. He couldn't handle that, I know." I nodded. "I know."
Margaret checked her watch. "Rats. I've gotta go back on duty." I grinned. "I'm off, Ferret Face is on now." Sure enough, a grumbling Frank turned the corner, shot us a dirty look, before disappearing into the building. Margaret sighed, standing up. I leaned in, kissing her softly. She pulled back, arching an eyebrow. "For helping me out," I said simply. She smiled before following Frank, while I headed back to the Swamp.
Hawkeye was stretched out on his bunk, reading a dirty magazine stapled in the cover of a different dirty magazine. The one he was reading was for gay men, so he stapled it into a Frolicking Nudists cover, to avoid suspicion. I saw his eyes flick up from the magazine, register who entered, and then flick back down. I leaned over, plucking the magazine from his hands, flipping it into a corner of the Swamp, and straddled him. He glared up at me. "I was ogling that," he snapped. I leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Wouldn't you rather ogle me instead?" His eyes widened. "Sure, but aren't you mad at me?" he asked, bemused. I shook my head. "Not any more." His response was cut off as I captured his mouth with mine.
The rest of the week went without a hitch. Wounded came and went, but Hawk, Margaret and I were in a pretty good mood. The new Colonel had scared us, at first, with his no nonsense ways – he even forced Klinger out of his dresses, giving him a psychological rash – but he had loosened up considerably, and life was as good as it could get when you trapped in a 24/7 fungus convention/rat paradise.
That was, until, Potter announced that the 8063rd needed a surgeon to show them some new technique we had picked up somewhere. Seeing as Hawkeye was the Chief Surgeon, and the one who had skillfully pulled off the first of the difficult operations, he was loaded onto a jeep, with mounds of trading goods piled around him. He stared about at the piles of vials, the boxes of everything. "Great. Leave any room for the driver?" he quipped. Potter rolled his eyes. "Get going. And stay on the marked roads. Radar has the map, right Radar?"
"Right, sir." The young clerk's muffled voice floated from somewhere among the boxes. He was sitting in the front seat next to Hawkeye, but so much stuff had been piled around him, he was nowhere in sight. Hawkeye knocked on a box. "Radar, if you can hear me, knock 3 times. I'll get a crew in here to clean out the debris." No reply. "My God, he's dead," Hawkeye cried, throwing himself on the steering wheel. "Get out of here, or you'll be the one pushing up the daisies," Colonel Potter warned. Margaret gave Hawkeye a quick hug. "Be careful. I know a whole bunch of people who would be rather annoyed with you if you got killed." Hawk laughed. "That's good to know."
As I leaned over to give him a "man hug", I whispered in his ear. "Be careful. I'll kill myself if you get hurt." He smiled at me, quickly and carefully kissing my cheek. He started the jeep. "All right, let's move her out!" They pulled out of the compound, spraying us with dust. Margaret and I stood, rooted to the spot, watching them drive away.
***TBC***
I guess you can pretty well imagine what's going to happen next. Feel free to guess in the reviews you'll send!