Henry lingered on the edge of the camp. As the noises of late-night clamor
reached him from the Officer's Club, he paused, and looked in that
direction. The door opened, and a gust of warm, alcohol-scented air rushed
out into the slightly chilled night.
The scent made Henry wince slightly. He desperately needed a drink. "A real drink," he quickly added, gazing so longingly at the structure that he hardly noticed the tall, sandy-brown haired fellow who had just exited, all bleary-eyed.
"Hey, there," said gentleman jovially greeted him, affably approaching. "Don't worry about going in, we're not strict about the so-called 'officers only' policy." He clapped the startled Henry on the shoulder, "I'm B.J., by the way. You new? I haven't been here too long, myself, but we get mighty close mighty quick around here."
"Um," commented Henry wittily. "Uh, no, I used to-" the warm hand on his shoulder throbbed with life, and he shut his mouth for a second so as to focus on forcing back the growth of those dag-blasted fangs. He chuckled, "I used to work here, but, you see, I was on my way home, and I got. . . lost, so I came back here until I can get another ride out."
B.J. frowned. "Lost? Well, I'm glad you're back, you're freezing! How long have you been wandering around out there?"
Henry lifted his hand and casually brushed off the touch of the surgeon. "Oh, not too long, don't worry, I'm just fine. I think. I'll just go back to. Um. My tent."
B.J. shook his head, "I probably ought to look you over first, just in case. You look like hell." He added, quite frankly, as he squinted at the pallor on the older man's face.
"No! Really, I'm fine," Henry cried, first loud, then quieting his tone as he spotted Radar leading the Korean woman and boy across the compound. His eyes widened and he turned back to B.J. "Really." He stated again, his face breaking into a cheery and assuring smile. B.J. seemed duly assured, and with a nod of the head, headed toward the swamp.
Henry watched out carefully and hurried (not /hurried/, but hurried nonetheless) across to his tent, looking over his shoulder to see if anyone else was stirring as he entered. Sighing in relief, he removed his hat and dropped it onto his bed. Except, of course, for the fact that it landed at his feet. He turned around to face into the tent, which currently had begun to resemble the setting from a cheesy western novel.
"Oh." He murmured to himself, leaning over to pick up his hat as he scanned across the room, finding, among the equestrian trappings, an older face snuggled down stoically into the army-issue blankets. Henry felt inutterably. . . replaced.
The semi-nostalgic feeling, however, that stirred within him suddenly began to be quashed under a new sensation, a kind of irrational fury that whipped up into his brain. "How could they replace me? I haven't been gone from this place two-three--- err. . . only a few days, and already they've gone and got this new guy right at home, huh? Huh?!"
Henry himself, in a kind of introspective way, was shocked to find these thoughts coming from his own psyche. "Was that me?" he murmured aloud. He was quiet, thoroughly aware as to the presence of the sleeping Colonel, but needing to hear the sound of his own voice to help calm himself. Once done, he could think rationally. Of course, almost as soon as he left he would have had to be replaced. He even made himself smile somewhat, thinking that Hawk and Trap couldn't have stood Frank being in charge for any period of time longer than 15 seconds.
As he was in thought, he crept forward, half-inspecting this new face in the darkness. Then the announcement came on. "Choppers! Sorry guys, looks like sleep will have to wait."
Henry grunted slightly and dropped to the floor, shuffling under the cot before the old man could stir his eyelids open. A moment later there was a mumbling, and a pair of feet slid onto the floor. A light was turned on, a nightgown dropped on the bed, its light blue edge trailing the floor.
"What the devil?" Potter mumbled, leaning down to pick up the hat from where Henry'd dropped it in his dash under the cot. Feeling no need to change into fatigues just to go change into scrubs, he walked out the door in his shorts and olive drab undershirt.
Henry sighed again, and rested his head on his hand, his elbow on the floor in an attitude of exasperation.
~
The scent made Henry wince slightly. He desperately needed a drink. "A real drink," he quickly added, gazing so longingly at the structure that he hardly noticed the tall, sandy-brown haired fellow who had just exited, all bleary-eyed.
"Hey, there," said gentleman jovially greeted him, affably approaching. "Don't worry about going in, we're not strict about the so-called 'officers only' policy." He clapped the startled Henry on the shoulder, "I'm B.J., by the way. You new? I haven't been here too long, myself, but we get mighty close mighty quick around here."
"Um," commented Henry wittily. "Uh, no, I used to-" the warm hand on his shoulder throbbed with life, and he shut his mouth for a second so as to focus on forcing back the growth of those dag-blasted fangs. He chuckled, "I used to work here, but, you see, I was on my way home, and I got. . . lost, so I came back here until I can get another ride out."
B.J. frowned. "Lost? Well, I'm glad you're back, you're freezing! How long have you been wandering around out there?"
Henry lifted his hand and casually brushed off the touch of the surgeon. "Oh, not too long, don't worry, I'm just fine. I think. I'll just go back to. Um. My tent."
B.J. shook his head, "I probably ought to look you over first, just in case. You look like hell." He added, quite frankly, as he squinted at the pallor on the older man's face.
"No! Really, I'm fine," Henry cried, first loud, then quieting his tone as he spotted Radar leading the Korean woman and boy across the compound. His eyes widened and he turned back to B.J. "Really." He stated again, his face breaking into a cheery and assuring smile. B.J. seemed duly assured, and with a nod of the head, headed toward the swamp.
Henry watched out carefully and hurried (not /hurried/, but hurried nonetheless) across to his tent, looking over his shoulder to see if anyone else was stirring as he entered. Sighing in relief, he removed his hat and dropped it onto his bed. Except, of course, for the fact that it landed at his feet. He turned around to face into the tent, which currently had begun to resemble the setting from a cheesy western novel.
"Oh." He murmured to himself, leaning over to pick up his hat as he scanned across the room, finding, among the equestrian trappings, an older face snuggled down stoically into the army-issue blankets. Henry felt inutterably. . . replaced.
The semi-nostalgic feeling, however, that stirred within him suddenly began to be quashed under a new sensation, a kind of irrational fury that whipped up into his brain. "How could they replace me? I haven't been gone from this place two-three--- err. . . only a few days, and already they've gone and got this new guy right at home, huh? Huh?!"
Henry himself, in a kind of introspective way, was shocked to find these thoughts coming from his own psyche. "Was that me?" he murmured aloud. He was quiet, thoroughly aware as to the presence of the sleeping Colonel, but needing to hear the sound of his own voice to help calm himself. Once done, he could think rationally. Of course, almost as soon as he left he would have had to be replaced. He even made himself smile somewhat, thinking that Hawk and Trap couldn't have stood Frank being in charge for any period of time longer than 15 seconds.
As he was in thought, he crept forward, half-inspecting this new face in the darkness. Then the announcement came on. "Choppers! Sorry guys, looks like sleep will have to wait."
Henry grunted slightly and dropped to the floor, shuffling under the cot before the old man could stir his eyelids open. A moment later there was a mumbling, and a pair of feet slid onto the floor. A light was turned on, a nightgown dropped on the bed, its light blue edge trailing the floor.
"What the devil?" Potter mumbled, leaning down to pick up the hat from where Henry'd dropped it in his dash under the cot. Feeling no need to change into fatigues just to go change into scrubs, he walked out the door in his shorts and olive drab undershirt.
Henry sighed again, and rested his head on his hand, his elbow on the floor in an attitude of exasperation.
~