Kooshball: Well, most people in the MASH part of FFN should know what a drabble is. If you don't, it's a fic, or even what seems to be part of a fic, that goes for exactly 100 words. Head over to TakenHawkeye's page after this, because she is the Queen of drabbles with 120 waiting to be read and reviewed. This chapter of "Five Ways to write a fanfiction" is a series of Izzy drabbles, from before, after and during the war. Enjoy, and don't forget to leave a review so I know what you want from Izzy next time!
'So what did Sidney have to say this time?'
'Not much,' Izzy said, shrugging the question off. Hawkeye tried again.
'Is he helping, though?' he asked.
'Helping with what? I'm not crazy, Hawkeye,' Izzy snapped. There was silence between them in the car for a few minutes.
'I'm sorry, Izzy,' Hawkeye said.
'It's ok.' Izzy paused a second. 'Sometimes I think I'm nuts, too.' Hawkeye glanced over at her, concerned.
'You're not crazy,' he said firmly after a minute. 'I've known you a long time, and I know you aren't crazy.'
Izzy smiled warmly at him. 'Thanks, Hawkeye,' she said.
Izzy sat in front of the TV, trying hard to pick up the dialogue through the music coming from the surrounding TV's and CD players. Hawkeye and BJ were setting up the bar made from Frank's cot, in the episode "Change of Command". Izzy imagined walking into the Swamp, and added her own dialogue to the story. In her fantasy, she was as witty as Hawkeye, smart as BJ, and wore beautiful clothes from Tokyo.
'Hey, you, get out,' the security guard said. The homeless teen ran out of the shop, knowing nothing like that could ever happen to her.
'You're not as bad as everyone says you are,' Izzy said.
'I could say the same about you,' Margaret replied.
'No-one talks about me like that,' Izzy said.
'Oh, a few of the lower ranking men do,' Margaret said, taking a swig from her beer.
'Damn Zale,' Izzy said. The Private looked up at Margaret. 'You know,' she said slowly. 'It'd be bad for our images if they knew we were friends.'
'Agreed,' Margaret said. The two tapped their bottles together in a sign of friendship, and sat quietly, their new friendship a secret between them and the Korean barmaid.
'Mummy, I'm bored,' Izzy said. Sheila picked up the seven year old and sat her on the sofa.
'There might be something on TV,' she said, sitting the blond girl down and picking up the TV guide. 'Here, watch this.' She flicked the TV on just in time to show helicopters flying over a mountain side, playing music that would become familiar to Izzy over the next few years. 'This is what I watched when I was younger,' Sheila said, leaving the room.
Twelve years later, Izzy became part of the same TV show she watched when she was seven.
Izzy stood nervously in front of the house as Hawkeye talked to his father. Neither her or Hawkeye had been sure how Daniel Pierce would react to her coming to live with them after the war, he'd been given no warning, no say in if she could or not. Izzy groaned to herself. Perhaps it would have been easier to go home with BJ. Peggy wouldn't have minded, she had suggested it in the first place. The door opened, and an older version of Hawkeye welcomed Izzy with open arms. A permanent home for the first time in six years.
'I adapt well,' Izzy said, taking a bite from her pretzel. 'First I was high class society. We had enough money to buy a country. Then, I'm on the streets, with no money.' Klinger nodded, his earrings sparkling in the light of the officer's club.
'Go on,' he said, pausing from wiping the glass dry.
'Then, I end up in Korea, during wartime.' She studied her pretzel a moment, then took another bite from it. 'One extreme to another,' she said. 'I've had to adapt all my life, and I'll probably have to keep adapting till the day I die.'