A/N- Im going to be going over all the chapters in both Truth of Souls and Truth of hearts and make some changes to make them better. I won't update as often, hopefully when I do they'll be better written, better grammar, proper spelling ect . . . I also won't write at 12:00 p.m. which I do believe is a factor in how crappy the last chapters have been turning out.
She didn't want to talk to anyone, her mind was set on the accusations made by Flagg, even though he had left almost a week ago, Sara still felt withdrawn, her heart not into the work and war around her. She found herself occupying her time by laying in The Swamp and reading through an old journal, the only thing she had brought with her when she moved in. Memories flooded back in mournful waves, memories that she was certain she had rid herself of began to creep back, bringing with them the emotions she had long since forced back.
January 4th, still stuck in this damned room, Amy came by with my homework, apparently Miss. Witome was asking where I was. Probably the only teacher that was actually worried . . .
Yes, memories that should have passed by her long ago seemed to claw their way back. Trapper noticed this odd change in The Swamp Girl first, he was held aback by the fact that neither Hawkeye nor Sara seemed willing to discuss the issue. Hawkeye was simply falling in love more with Emma Korton, meanwhile he didn't seem to notice that his own daughter was slowly falling back into the state of solitary that she had been in when she first arrived at the 4077th.
Trapper knew he had to do something but wasn't entirely sure how to go about it, confront Sara? Confront Hawkeye? Ask Henry . . . no that was certainly out of the question, but something . . . Call in Sidney Freedman? He always seemed to know the right thing to say, but last time he was there Sara had refused to give him the time of day.
So Trapper decided to wait and watch and see what would happen, he would only do something if she stopped eating, or lost even more weight than she already had. As for Hawkeye, he was another case of wait and observe, if he did become more distant from Sara, Trapper knew he would have to step in. That was not the way a father was supposed to act.
The cold wind had come up once again, The flow of casualties seemed to have ceased once more and so Sara had been directed by Trapper to stay in The Swamp, keep warm and just try to get a little energy back. The young girl found herself playing poker matches with other 4077th hostages. After beating Ugly John, Trapper and Hawkeye out of fifty dollars each in poker they decided to let her go for a walk outside.
"At least then we can keep some of our money," Trapper muttered as she had pulled on her jacket and left the Swamp. She strolled through the compound, her headaches had ceased, along with the nausea, she felt more awake and aware of her surroundings than she had since getting the flu in the first place.
Klinger gave her a small wave as she walked by him, he was wearing a long fur jacket and matching stole, with giant hoop earrings and a tacky fake pearl necklace to go with it she barely noticed the bright red heels that he wore on his feet.
As she neared the middle of the compound, something caught her eye, An army jeep with two MP's in it and a familiar person just stepping into the back seat. Her heart leapt in her chest as she raced over to see what was happening.
"Chris! Hey Everett!" She called out, "Where are you going?"
He heard her and quickly jumped out of the green jeep, his eyes seemed to be clouded over by sadness, Sara suddenly understood what was going on.
"He found something on you . . . right?" she asked breathlessly, a wave of guilt building up in the pit of her already queasy stomach.
Chris nodded, "It's no big deal, I'm going to live with some friends back in the states until my brothers are given their discharges, better than a foster home."
"I'm so sorry," Sara whispered, "I never wanted this to happen to you . . . "
"Honestly," Chris said quietly, "I'm glad, what you told me about killing others, it really gave me a lot to think about . . . I don't think I could have gone back to the front after that."
"Really?"
"Yeah . . . " He replied with an angelic smile, "It'll be okay, you take care of yourself, all right?"
Sara nodded before leaning up and kissing the young man lightly on the cheek, "Thank you, for everything."
"I should be the one thanking you," Chris replied, his eyes shimmering with laughter, "I owe you a lot Sara."
"No, I think we're about even." She replied with a smile, "Go on, you'll miss your jeep."
They embraced quickly, "Maybe I'll see you back in the States one day," He said as they broke apart.
"I hope so . . . "
"Hey! Kid, Let's go!" One of the MP's shouted angrily, "We don't have all day!"
Chris sighed and rolled his brown eyes, "Take care!"
"You too!" Sara tried desperately not to cry as she watched him jump back into the jeep as it pulled away from the compound. One of her closest friends in this damn war, even if she only knew him for a few weeks, and he was gone because of her, because he wanted to help her.
'That's what loyalty is . . . ' Sara thought dismally, 'I'm not sure I like it.' She gave an exaggerated sighed and turned around, it was getting colder, the dark clouds were settling in, it was turning as dark as night.
"Hello Frank," Sara said less than enthusiastically as she entered The Swamp and walked over to her cot. Frank, who was laying on his cot reading the bible, looked up "Balderdash!"
"Really Frank," Trapper exclaimed, "We'll have to wash your mouth out with soap! I fold, how bout' you Hawk?"
"El foldomundo," Hawkeye replied with a magnified sigh as he slapped the cards down onto their makeshift table, "I've got a date anyway,"
"With who?" Queried Trapper as he tried to sneak away a chip from the pile of red, white and blue scattered around.
"Nurse Emma Korton," Hawkeye replied as he moved over to the still and began pouring some of the raw liquor into a wine bottle. "Hm, 6:38 p.m. is a very good year."
"The new one? Built like a brick hospital?"
"And twice as loaded," Hawkeye said with a playful grin as he corked the bottle and began the task of pulling on his boots.
"Oh, now that's disgusting!" Frank snapped from the other side of The Swamp, "You two run around all day and proposition nurses while the rest of us do real work! You ought to be ashamed of yourselves."
"Well I tried to malpractice all day but I was sued by far too many patients," Hawkeye retorted, "Besides Frank, the only difference between you and me are the number of nurses we go after. You stick with plain old Hot lips while I enjoy a variety."
"Oh, drivel."
"Really Frank, do you kiss Hot lips with that mouth?" Trapper asked as he put the cards away. Frank simply glared at them before turning his nose back into his bible and continuing to read madly.
Sara meanwhile, had laid back down on her cot and pulled the green blanket canopy down on the side closest to the Lipless Wonder in hopes of blocking him out. She pulled out the ratty old journal and carefully ran her fingers over the red leather cover, it was smooth to the touch, small indents and rips provided memories of what the book had gone through. Really, it was amazing that it had made it so far.
"Don't wait up," Hawkeye said with a grin as he pushed open The Swamp door, "See ya later, Sara."
She looked up and gave a feeble smile, "Have fun." Without waiting for a reply she fell back down onto her cot and opened up her journal to where she had creased the page a few hours ago.
The young girl was certain she heard Hawkeye give a dismal sigh before The Swamp door closed with a loud bang. She heard Ugly John give a mournful sigh as the chair he sat on creaked with him stretching.
"I suppose these's no chance of me winning any of my money back from you soon, is there?" He asked Sara.
She laughed, "No, not a chance."
"Right, Doesn't matter, I've got duty anyway. See you later Trapper, Sara."
"Bye!" the two replied in union.
Then there was the silence ringing throughout the tent, Trapper shifted uncomfortably as he sipped his martini and watched Sara out of the corner of his eye. She was oddly silent, she had been since Flagg had left, all the efforts to get more than seven words out of her had failed miserably. It wasn't the horror of war . . . That couldn't be the reason for her pain and far away look, something else, Trapper needed to find out what before she did something she would regret.
xXx
"Hm, this is nice." Emma sat across from Hawkeye on a makeshift chair and table in the supply tent, a cup of 'wine' in hand and a half-melted candle flickering in between them.
Hawkeye smiled in his special way, "Very nice, we should meet in the supply tent more often."
"Are you always so helpful to the new nurses?"
"I was raised on a helpful farm," Hawkeye said with a sly grin, "They fed me martini's twice a day, also high quality customer service grains."
Emma Korton giggled and sipped her wine, "Did you live in a stable?" Hawkeye nodded and smiled, he loved it when a nurse could play along, "I had my own stall with straw and a radio." "I hope they cleaned it regularly."
"I made sure of it," Hawkeye replied as he leaned forward, "Nothing but the best for such a High class Helper."
Emma laughed again, "So tell me, how's Sara doing?"
Hawkeye mentally gave a weary sigh and shrugged, "All right I suppose, she hasn't said much to anyone."
"It must have come as a bit of a shock to you," Emma said quietly, "To find out that her father was involved in such things."
Another shrug from Hawkeye, "Her business is her own, I don't try to pry into it . . . "
"So it doesn't bother you that her father was a communist sympathizer?"
"No," Hawkeye said bluntly, "Anyone who helped both sides by healing instead of killing is all right in my books."
There was a strange pause before Emma spoke again, "You're an odd person Hawkeye." She smiled slightly, "I think that's why I'm falling for you."
"Let's fall down together."
xXx
January 13th, I made the biggest mistake of my life, talk about being scarred forever. I want to get out of here, Don't ask me why I thought this would work, I suppose it's the fact that no one would miss me if I did die . . .