Just for Holula, another death fic! This is actually an alternative ending to "Kim", so I'm not sure that it belongs in my short stories series, but I'm putting it here anyways. Enjoy!

Together Now

"This is what you call looking after the kid?" Trapper demanded, staring down at a flustered Hot Lips and Frank. "Oh, this war is getting so crowded," Hot Lips stumbled. "Where is the kid, anyways?" Trap asked, looking around in alarm. "He was here a minute ago," Hot Lips asserted, staring around at the waving grasses and trees. Frank's mouth dropped as his eyes picked out the kid, and we followed his stare. To a rock in the middle of the minefield.

"Oh my God!" Trap cried, taking off. I tore after him, skidding to a stop at the edge of the minefield, while Trapper rushed in. "Trap, stop!" He slowed reluctantly. "You wanna make him an orphan again?" I demanded sharply. As realization it him, he stopped dead. "I'll get the maps!" I shouted, heading for the camp at a run, while Hot Lips told the kid to stay put in Korean. I prayed he listened.

I returned with Henry and Radar, as well as the maps. Henry spread it out on the ground, and scanned the map quickly. "Okay McIntyre, you can go 25 feet before you hit one." Trapper looked up. "Eight yards?"

"Just take eight steps," I cautioned, heart in my mouth as I watched him take one, two, three steps. As he raised his foot for the fourth, something in my chest tightened. Something was wrong – I began to shout at him. Too late.

As his foot came down on that fourth step, a mine erupted. Both Trapper and the kid were enveloped in clouds of smoke, as I ran forwards, taking no precautions. Henry reached out and managed to snag the edge of my jacket. "Pierce, just stay here – don't be stupid!" I struggled in his grip, staring out at the thick smoke that concealed the man that I loved. I never told him, and now he was most likely gone.

The smoke started to clear, and we saw O' Brian fly over the ridge, and lower his rope ladder. As he cleared the smoke, I dropped to my knees – there was only one person on the ladder – much to small to be Trapper.

O' Brian lowered the kid as the last of the smoke cleared. Margaret pressed the kid to her breast as Trapper became visible. A sob tore from my throat as I saw what was left of him. Henry's grip tightened on me, as if he realized my intent, but he shook with silent sobs. Margaret was trying to console the kid, who was badly frightened, but the tears streaming down her face weren't helping. Radar was white as a ghost, and Frank trembled violently.

I must have stood, because I was on my feet. Henry released me, and I came to my senses. A split second's indecision, and I was running towards the minefield, taking no notice of where I placed my feet. By some miracle, I reached Trapper's side, tears blurring my vision, the screams of Henry and Radar and Margaret and Frank fading from my hearing as I gripped the hand of the man I loved. His eyes flickered, and met mine, strangely hazy. I had seen that look before – I knew that Trap was going to die. I tried to speak, but I choked on a sob.

With a pained grin, Trapper spoke. "Love…love you, Hawk." I pressed my lips against his, then raised my head, in time to see his eyes slide shut for the last time. I dropped my face, sobbing into his still chest. Voices reached my ears, hollow and echoing.

"C'mon, Hawkeye, it's over." Henry stood beside me, Frank and Radar and Margaret hovering behind him. "No," I croaked, finding my voice. "No!" Henry nodded slowly. "Yes. There's nothing you can do."

"The hell I can't." I grabbed Frank's gun from it's holster, set it against my head, and pulled the trigger. The last thing I saw was Trapper's face, still twisted with pain.

***

We buried Hawkeye and Trapper by the creek they visited often, with only two simple crosses to mark their final resting place. And every year, we return to the graves, no matter where we are.

Trapper's wife Louise came over to visit her husband's grave, and to finalize the adoption papers. Kim became an American citizen, and was loved by his family, though I can't help but wonder if Louise McIntyre blamed him for Trapper's death.

And now, the crosses are covered by grass, and we have forgotten where they lie. So we mourn at home, for the death of two men, who we all pray are together now.

***THE END***

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