Tanks for the reviews, they are loved and appreciated. Ok. Here's a warning.
***WARNING*** This chapter contains harsh language, a teensy bit of gore, and an equally teensy bit of sexuality. Not m/m, however. I'm not saying anything else, though, it'll ruin the story.
Ok, I lied. Just one thing – the song written is my own, so please ask if you want to use it..though I can't see why you would..
Our Story
Chapter 7: Comfort
"Where the hell are they?" I demanded for the 20 billionth time in the past hour. I was pacing the Swamp, still dressed in my blood soaked scrubs. Margaret sat on Hawkeye's cot, looking just as worried as I felt. "I don't know.." she said helplessly. "Well, why isn't anyone out looking for them?" I shouted, slamming my fists on the table. The Still rattled dangerously. Margaret shrugged. "The weather," she replied, motioning to the huge black thunderclouds that spewed rain. Lightening shattered the sky, and thunder crashed, shaking the tiny tents.
I sighed. It had been 24 hours since Hawk and Radar left the camp, and they still hadn't returned, and everybody was getting nervous. I opened my mouth to shout something else, but the PA crackled, drowning out my words. "ATTENTION ALL PERSONNELL, WOUNDED IN THE COMPOUND! GET YOURS WHILE THEY'RE STILL BLEEDING!" I swore viciously, chasing after Margaret, out of the tent and into the pouring rain.
I slid on the mud, nearly smashing into Klinger, who was barefooted, having kicked off his 6 inch pumps. "Trapp, this one looks bad. There's a lot of blood coming from lots of different places," he reported. I knelt in the slimy, cold mud, ripping back the blanket. Behind me, Klinger gasped. I snapped my head to look at him. He was staring at the soldier's face, which was cut and bleeding. But no amount of blood could hide that face – Radar.
"Shit!" I shouted. I whirled around, searching for Margaret. "Margaret!" She turned to face me. "What?"
"Radar's here, he's hurt pretty bad." Her face twisted with anxiety, and she started to run over, but I stopped her. "If he's here, chances are Hawk is too. Look for him – and call me if you find him!" she nodded, turning and heading for the large group of stretchers clustered near the building. I started my own search, instructing Klinger to get Radar in to Potter right away. He returned shortly, saying that Potter wanted me in the OR now.
"I can't go – I've gotta find Hawkeye!" Margaret appeared at my elbow. "Go," she ordered. "I'm looking for him – I'll bring him right to you if I find him." I hesitated before turning and following Klinger through the blinding rain.
"Trapp, I found him," Margaret called. I whipped my head around, as the corpsmen placed a stretcher on the one empty table. I glanced at the nurse, silently asking her to close for me. She nodded, and I ran over to the table.
Margaret stood next to me, her face pale under both the mask and the splotches of mud. She grabbed a pair of gloves, snapping them over my hands before her own. I glanced up at the patient's face. His jet black was stained with blood from a head wound, and he was white from lack of blood. His eyes opened for a minute, and there was no longer any doubt that it was Hawk. Those azure orbs found my eyes, silently pleading, before sliding shut again.
I quickly assessed my lover's wounds. He had multiple bullets lodged in his body, countless fractures, a large, deep cut on his head, and severe blood lose due to the numerous cuts all over his body. I whirled into action, removing six bullets from his chest, legs, back, and stomach. After closing his chest, having done some work on a punctured lung, I turned my attention to the head wound. I removed enough shrapnel to make a Ford, then stitched the wound up, praying that it wasn't serious enough for brain damage.
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Hawkeye's POV
I woke up, my eyes slowly sliding open. Through my blurred vision, and the intense pain the light was causing. I registered Post – Op, though what I was doing there, I couldn't tell. I tried to move, but fiery pain ripped through my limbs. A nurse glanced over sharply as I gasped. She jumped up, running to the door. "Doctor, he's awake," she called.
Trapper burst through the doors, followed by Margaret and Colonel Potter. They clustered around my bed, all looking worried, yet relieved. I opened my mouth, trying to speak, but, as I realized, I had a tube in. I motioned for Trapper to block it, so I could try to speak. He complied, his hazel eyes saying things his lips couldn't. "Where..Radar?" I managed to wheeze. Trap motioned to the bed next to me. I couldn't turn my head, but I reached out to grab his hand, and heard his voice. "Don't worry, Hawkeye, I'm fine." I nodded carefully, my neck aching.
Without warning, the world darkened. The last thing I heard was Trapper's voice. "Hawkeye!"
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Trapper's POV
Hawkeye's blue eyes rolled back in his head, and his hand, in Radar's, went limp. I cried out, grabbing his neck for a pulse. I thanked God when I found one, weak but present. "Damn it, what's wrong with him?" I shouted. Margaret winced, stroking my hand, while Colonel Potter leaned across me, examining Hawkeye. "He's slipped into a coma, son." Tears spilled from my eyes as I listened to those words. Suddenly, I was angry. "Why him?! Why not me?!" I picked up the nearest thing – an empty blood bottle – and hurled it across the room. It smashed into the wall, spraying glass everywhere. Potter beckoned to the nurse, while Margaret tried to calm me down. The last thing I felt was a slight prick as Potter sedated me.
I woke up, hours later, on Hawkeye's empty bunk in the Swamp. Margaret sat next to me. I glanced at her hopefully, but she shook her head, tears threatening to fall from her icy blue eyes. I choked on the lump in my throat, trying not to cry. I gave in. "He can't die, Margaret, he's all I have to live for!" She wrapped her arms around me, rocking me back and forth, like a baby. "I know," she crooned, stroking my hair. "I'm scared too. We all are. But you can't let it hurt you." I pulled away. "You don't understand! We are connected – if he bleeds, I bleed. He's a part of me, I can't let him go!" I collapsed again, my anger ebbing away.
"Trapper, I know. But be strong – if not for your own sake, then for Hawkeye's. What would happen if you grieve yourself to death, then what would he do? Be strong, for him." She pulled my head into her lap, singing softly.
"Be strong, my baby.
Don't let your fears set in.
Be strong, my baby.
Things will be good again.
Hold on, my baby.
Hold your head up high.
Hold on, my baby.
There's no reason to cry.
Be brave, my baby.
Don't give up the fight.
Be brave, my baby,
And I'll help you though this night.
Although you're feeling all alone,
Someone is here for you.
So be strong, my baby,
Though it's the hardest thing to do."
I sat up, our eyes locking. We slowly leaned forwards, our lips meeting. This was not sex, it was the simple comfort of two grief stricken friends, helping each other through the night.
***TBC***
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