Thanks for the reviews. Ok, this is the second last chapter, there will be another, then an epilogue. I'm so close to revealing the cryptic remarks I've been putting in.

Our Story

Chapter 9: Destroy

I strolled into Post – Op, whistling cheerfully. A nurse shot me a strange look, but thought I wasn't worth the time. Her loss. I scanned the room for Hawkeye, panicked until I remembered he was moved to the VIP tent, and left Post – Op, practically skipping across the compound.

As I reached the tent, I heard voices inside.

"You've got to talk to him, Hawkeye, because frankly - " Margaret's voice.

"Don't say frankly." Hawkeye's voice.

"Ok. Because actually, there is that better? Actually, he's starting to frighten me."

"I'll talk to him, but I don't know what good it's gonna do."

I pulled open the door then, to find Margaret in the chair next to Hawkeye's bed. When she saw who opened the door, her eyes widened slightly, and she stood up abruptly. "I gotta go," she said quietly, hurrying out of the tent.

I turned to Hawkeye – and shivered. He had such a dead expression in his eyes – as if he had just lost the will to live. I swallowed the lump in my throat. "As much as I hate to ask this…is something wrong?" he glared. "Gee, I don't know," he began, sarcastically. I could tell this was not going to be a good conversation. "I'm lying here in a bed, having just got shot. Well, that's fine, I can deal. Then I find out that my best friend, and the man I love, has been fucking around! Yeah, everything is fan – fucking – tastic!"

I winced. "Oh yeah, that."

"Yeah, that. How the hell can you do this to me? Do you have no regard for other people's feelings? Damn it, Trapper, what the hell is wrong with you."

"I was drunk," I pleaded weakly. "That's no excuse!" he raged. "You're the one who got drunk in the first place!" Suddenly, I was angry. "You're not so high and mighty either, Hawkeye. Look me straight in the eyes and truthfully tell me you've never made a mistake when you were drunk!" He clenched his fists, the knuckles turning white. "I have made plenty of mistakes, but I've never messed around with someone while I was in a relationship!"

"You've never been in a relationship before! Hawkeye, I've known you since the fourth grade, and in all our years as friends, you have never once been in a serious relationship." His eyes narrowed. "Quite obviously, I'm not currently in one, either."

Ouch. That hurt, and I didn't deserve it. His words cut into me, worse than the glass I dragged across my wrists. "Get out," he spat, staring at the ceiling. I started to say something, then turned and left.

I trudged back to the Swamp, throwing myself on my cot. Frank – just the person I needed to see – took a look at my now red – rimmed eyes and tearstained cheeks, and smirked. "What's the matter, McIntyre?" he asked cruelly. "Wouldn't Pierce give you any?" I stood up, wiping my eyes. "Get out of here, Frank, before I tear off your head and throw it to the wolves." He smirked some more. "Oh, poor McIntyre, can't get his boyfriend to play with him," he taunted. I snapped. I leapt towards him, punching any flesh I came in contact with. He managed to pry me off, and run for the door. "You're going to be sent to prison for this – you and your immoral friend!" He left.

Anger dissipating, I flopped once more, face first, on my bunk. My eyes caught the gleaming flash of – metal. My old standby, the one thing that could ease the pain. I grabbed the knife, dragging the jagged blade once, twice, three times across my wrist. The dark red blood began to run, trailing down my arm. I repeated the process on the other arm, then poised, pondering my next move.

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Hawkeye's POV

I lay there after Trapp left, motionless. I couldn't help but wonder if I had been a little hard on him. After all – he was drunk. I carefully pulled myself into the wheelchair that sat next to my bed, and slowly wheeled over to the Swamp.

Through the thin mesh of the walls, I saw Trapper, back to me. As I opened the door – I saw the worst I had ever seen in my life.

Trapper sat, one bleeding hand holding a knife. His arms were a mess of dark red blood pouring from the slices on his arm. I wheeled over to him as fast as I could. "Trapper, no!"

He waved the knife in the air. "Don't stop me, Hawk. I don't like life, I get up and leave," he said chillingly. "Trapp, don't!" I pleaded. "I'm sorry about what I said. I overreacted – I do that a lot. For God's sake, don't do anything stupid!" he gritted his teeth. "That's good, coming from you. Get out, Hawk, and leave me the fuck alone."

He returned to his task. "Goodbye, everyone!" he announced – then plunged the knife into his chest.

***TBC***

Bwahahahaha! Cliffhanger? Should I kill off Trapper?