Joles turned aside to face the dark wall and his waiting servant, the light
from the movie which had long since lost his attention, but not that of his
lovely bride, and he tapped gently on the sterile surface of the syringe
before slipping it into a vein made rigid by his intense concentration.
Watching it with barely contained freneticism, he trembled then relaxed as
he turned the needle back over to his ghoul. He let out a deep breath,
then worked for a moment to regulate his breathing and his heartbeat, which
he'd recently found, to his terror, had almost stopped again. How was he
supposed to keep in good health if he can't even maintain a circulation?
When the case was swiftly closed up again, Joles ignored the groveling ghoul at his side, turning back to the screen: the movie was just ending.
He cringed briefly and lifted a hand as the lights came back on, and replaced his hand on Irene's shoulder as she finally roused from her reverie.
The kine applauded genially, but some were loaded down with sleep, others making lusty eyes at one another, and they stretched and shuffled and began to go their several ways.
Joles stood and turned to face the generally bleary-eyed crowd. Assuming an air of command, he called out, "For everybody involved in the matter of Henry Blake," a few people turned around. Most kept on shuffling out the door, causing Joles to speed up his words a bit, "There will now be a meeting concerning the future of this unit! Attendance is highly---" he trailed off as it was clear that no more than a handful of people were listening to him, "Recommended..." he finished, punctuated by a final slap of the mess tent door falling into place.
Hawkeye turned his affectionate eyes away from the hindside of the nurse who'd fallen under his protection during the scarier bits of the film onto the Seneschal, and they waxed serious. "Oh, leave then alone, Colonel. It's late. Let them go to bed! You remember; you probably had to sleep at one point or another. In case you don't, it's that thing that people have to do every now and again to keep yourself up and running for other things they have to do every now and again. Like some operating. Or even sewing bodies back together. This IS a M*A*S*H unit, after all. The M stands for mobile. One of the three other letters stands for hospital. I think it's the same one that stands for How much those kids' lives out there rely on us."
Henry finally stood up from the spot where he'd spent the movie trying not to look back over his shoulder, trying to pay attention to the movie and not think about the Camarilla or the Brujah or... you know... the Scourge. "He's right, Colonel. Who knows what time the choppers might come over that hill tomorrow. These people need their rest."
Joles simply shook his head, "That won't be a problem. Your people can sleep as much as they require."
Potter lifted an eyebrow, "What? Are you planning on doing all the surgery yourself? This is a M*A*S*H unit!"
Joles smiled, "What M*A*S*H unit?"
B.J. stood up, "The M*A*S*H 4077th, remember? Best care anywhere?"
The seneschal quietly chuckled, "No such thing."
Hawkeye looked at Colonel Potter, who shrugged, and then at Henry, who looked just as puzzled.
"You /are/ nuts." He gaped, wide-eyed.
Joles turned and paced up the side aisle, "No. You're just nonexistent. In the army's eyes, at least. You see... the M*A*S*H 4077th has been... misplaced... somewhat."
"Misplaced?" Colonel Potter demanded, "What in Sam's Hill do you mean, 'misplaced?' I know we're here; all these people know we're here; YOU know we're here."
"But does the Army know you're here? No. No worries, a simple error in paperwork, somewhere along the line, believe me, the Army has made worse mistakes in its day. The files will be found again; but not before I give this place the green light."
"The green light? What, are we a traffic intersection now?" Hawkeye asked, his words humorous, but his tone seriously questioning.
Joles stopped his nervous pacing and collected his thoughts. "This unit has been the site of an egregious breach of the Masquerade. We're going to do what we can to ensure that nobody here knows anything they shouldn't about us," his tone left no room for interpreting what he meant by 'us,' "and then we're going to leave."
He turned to look at Henry, "All of us."
Sidney poked his head into the conversation at this point, cool and level- headed as always, but seeing more clearly than anyone currently present the particular nature of this situation. "And what if, say, ensuring that specific knowledge is not left in the care of certain individuals doesn't prove feasible."
Joles smiled sadly, "Yes, that's always a possibility, I suppose, though one which we'll do everything in our power to prevent. If we were to find the damage to the masquerade irreversible in this area, the M*A*S*H 4077th might have to go missing on a rather more permanent basis. And, of course, I wouldn't be surprised if, having lost the records of friendly and enemy land, there wouldn't be a full-out shelling of the area in... two, three days, tops."
Joles' proclamation was followed by a sour look as something he'd long trained himself to block out crept into his mind and waved at him, proclaiming itself to be 'odd.'
He whipped his head around and stared intently at Hawkeye. "Who told you I was crazy?" he asked in a gentle but forceful tone.
~
When the case was swiftly closed up again, Joles ignored the groveling ghoul at his side, turning back to the screen: the movie was just ending.
He cringed briefly and lifted a hand as the lights came back on, and replaced his hand on Irene's shoulder as she finally roused from her reverie.
The kine applauded genially, but some were loaded down with sleep, others making lusty eyes at one another, and they stretched and shuffled and began to go their several ways.
Joles stood and turned to face the generally bleary-eyed crowd. Assuming an air of command, he called out, "For everybody involved in the matter of Henry Blake," a few people turned around. Most kept on shuffling out the door, causing Joles to speed up his words a bit, "There will now be a meeting concerning the future of this unit! Attendance is highly---" he trailed off as it was clear that no more than a handful of people were listening to him, "Recommended..." he finished, punctuated by a final slap of the mess tent door falling into place.
Hawkeye turned his affectionate eyes away from the hindside of the nurse who'd fallen under his protection during the scarier bits of the film onto the Seneschal, and they waxed serious. "Oh, leave then alone, Colonel. It's late. Let them go to bed! You remember; you probably had to sleep at one point or another. In case you don't, it's that thing that people have to do every now and again to keep yourself up and running for other things they have to do every now and again. Like some operating. Or even sewing bodies back together. This IS a M*A*S*H unit, after all. The M stands for mobile. One of the three other letters stands for hospital. I think it's the same one that stands for How much those kids' lives out there rely on us."
Henry finally stood up from the spot where he'd spent the movie trying not to look back over his shoulder, trying to pay attention to the movie and not think about the Camarilla or the Brujah or... you know... the Scourge. "He's right, Colonel. Who knows what time the choppers might come over that hill tomorrow. These people need their rest."
Joles simply shook his head, "That won't be a problem. Your people can sleep as much as they require."
Potter lifted an eyebrow, "What? Are you planning on doing all the surgery yourself? This is a M*A*S*H unit!"
Joles smiled, "What M*A*S*H unit?"
B.J. stood up, "The M*A*S*H 4077th, remember? Best care anywhere?"
The seneschal quietly chuckled, "No such thing."
Hawkeye looked at Colonel Potter, who shrugged, and then at Henry, who looked just as puzzled.
"You /are/ nuts." He gaped, wide-eyed.
Joles turned and paced up the side aisle, "No. You're just nonexistent. In the army's eyes, at least. You see... the M*A*S*H 4077th has been... misplaced... somewhat."
"Misplaced?" Colonel Potter demanded, "What in Sam's Hill do you mean, 'misplaced?' I know we're here; all these people know we're here; YOU know we're here."
"But does the Army know you're here? No. No worries, a simple error in paperwork, somewhere along the line, believe me, the Army has made worse mistakes in its day. The files will be found again; but not before I give this place the green light."
"The green light? What, are we a traffic intersection now?" Hawkeye asked, his words humorous, but his tone seriously questioning.
Joles stopped his nervous pacing and collected his thoughts. "This unit has been the site of an egregious breach of the Masquerade. We're going to do what we can to ensure that nobody here knows anything they shouldn't about us," his tone left no room for interpreting what he meant by 'us,' "and then we're going to leave."
He turned to look at Henry, "All of us."
Sidney poked his head into the conversation at this point, cool and level- headed as always, but seeing more clearly than anyone currently present the particular nature of this situation. "And what if, say, ensuring that specific knowledge is not left in the care of certain individuals doesn't prove feasible."
Joles smiled sadly, "Yes, that's always a possibility, I suppose, though one which we'll do everything in our power to prevent. If we were to find the damage to the masquerade irreversible in this area, the M*A*S*H 4077th might have to go missing on a rather more permanent basis. And, of course, I wouldn't be surprised if, having lost the records of friendly and enemy land, there wouldn't be a full-out shelling of the area in... two, three days, tops."
Joles' proclamation was followed by a sour look as something he'd long trained himself to block out crept into his mind and waved at him, proclaiming itself to be 'odd.'
He whipped his head around and stared intently at Hawkeye. "Who told you I was crazy?" he asked in a gentle but forceful tone.
~