Thanks to all those who reviewed so far! You're acknowledgements are coming up momentarily. Thanks for all the constant support, readers. The story would certainly not be continued without your valuable insight.
b.f. pierced: Yep Hawk's quite disturbed by what's going on with this girl. She' s reminding him of a certain someone that he knew a long time ago. (Any guesses?) This will be explored in later chapters. Glad you like the story. I will keep it coming as long as you keep reviewing. As for my vacation, I wrote most of this while looking out on a beautiful beach on Lake Michigan. I would say that I enjoyed it.
Cyberchick2007: Thanks for all of the great compliments. I did have a great time on my trip!
Lt. Father Mulcahy: Thanks, Father, for the great review! Your character gets a mention in this chapter and will play a significant part in the story later. Until then, stay tuned and keep reading!
Fishogynist: Thanks so much! You will be getting lots more!
Firebirdgirl: I was really afraid at first about writing Hawkeye, but I'm glad that you're convinced. I think I have a bit more confidence about it now. Sydney gets a mention in this chapter and we will definitely be hearing from him again.
Kimberly: I'm glad you liked the characterization. I guess I wanted to keep the "rescue scene" simple, so I tried to include only two characters. You are right, though. I should have included Klinger or someone else in the party. Thanks for my first constructive criticism!
That's all folks! Please review if you want your name here! Enjoy the new chapter!
Mel's POV
I stared down, blankly, at the bed sheets that covered me. I ran the edge of the sheet through my fingers one last time before staring up into the depthy eyes of Dr. Sydney Freedman, the resident psychiatrist. He hadn't yet given up getting me to talk since I regained full consciousness just five days ago. Incidentally, Sydney had been the first person I had met upon waking in the 4077th MASH. I hadn't even suspect that he was a psychiatrist until he returned on the second day and began to question me about the events of that horrible day nearly two weeks before. I didn't want to tell him anything; for fear that all of my thoughts would spill out. It was becoming progressively harder to ignore the man's patient questions.
Sydney (as he had told me to call him) was not the only one who tried constantly to get me to talk. Doctors Hunnicutt and Winchester asked me simple questions. They talked to me constantly despite the silence they received in response. Major Houlihan, the head nurse, loved to talk to me about what she wanted her life to be like when the war was over. I saw her act drastically different toward the others in the camp, and I wanted to ask her why she hid herself from the rest of the world. Father Mulcahy had stopped by in an attempt to get me to pray the Rosary with him. After that, he talked to me about the trials that God sometimes brings us in our lives. He said that we become better people by being able to remain faithful in these times. It seems that I've already failed at this. Even Radar, the personable, young company clerk, and Klinger, the possibly crazy Corporal who never failed to show up at my bedside dressed in women's clothing, came to sit with her regularly.
Although I was appreciative of their company, I was disappointed to discover that none of them were the owners of the voice who had spoken to me the night before I had regained consciousness. I had thought, for a brief period of time, that I may have imagined the voice or that a divine being had visited me in the night. I didn't even want to entertain the thought that this man, whoever he had been, was avoiding me. I woke up everyday expecting him to come to my bedside just for a brief visit. I couldn't ask the identity of this strange man, nor could I get his words out of my head. For the first time since I came to Korea, I felt like someone shared my experience. Whoever had spoken to me that night seemed as if he rarely spoke to people as he had done with me. I felt both surprised and grateful to him for this. I desperately wanted to thank him, but wasn't sure if I could bring myself to do so; even if I did ever discover who he was.
Third Person POV
"Welcome back, Hawk," B.J. greeted, looking up from the letter he was reading to see Hawkeye saunter into the Swamp, a smile plastered onto his face. "How was Tokyo?"
"Wonderful; beautiful. It's amazing that I can even say that considering I spent most of my time in a Geisha house. The only time I ventured out was to get a breath of fresh air." B.J. chuckled slightly at this and moved over on the bed, so Hawkeye could sit next to him. "I'm sure nothing's changed here since I've been away."
"No, not really. Same kids coming here everyday looking for a room at the inn, asking to get their wounds patched up. You know how that goes." A grave expression formed on Hawkeye's face. He had certainly not been looking forward to returning to the 4077th for that reason.
"Oh, how's my patient. You know that girl who was in the coma?"
"Doing a lot better. She woke up about five days ago. Potter had me call Sydney down for her. He suspected she'd be a bit confused when she woke up. So far, no one's been able to get anything out of her. Charles and I talk to her every time we're in post-op, but she hasn't said a word to either of us. Margaret, Father Mulcahy, Radar, and even Klinger have all tried to get her to talk, but she won't say a word to any of us. I can't even imagine what she saw in that aid station. How long do you think she was there?" B.J. looked up at Hawkeye who had crossed the tent to get a drink from the still. Hawkeye could see the pain in his eyes; the fear for a girl he hardly even knew. These were the emotions that Hawkeye had felt when he pulled her out of the Jeep and could still feel churning inside of him, even now.
"I have no idea, Beej. I really don't want to know." He set the martini glass that he was holding on the table beside his bed. "I'll unpack later. Now, I think I need to pay a little visit to Sleeping Beauty and see if I can get her to talk to me." He strode to the door of the Swamp only turning around when B.J. asked him another question.
"Do you want me to come with you?" He had already put down his letter and was now leaning over his bed in an attempt to find his shoes.
"No, I think it would be better if I talked to her alone." B.J. said no more, picking up the letter once again before he heard the door to the Swamp shut.
"Good luck, Hawk. I have a feeling that you're going to need it."
Post-op was unusually quiet when Hawkeye entered. Most of the patients were asleep or conversing in whispers with the person in the bed next to them. There were no doctors on duty at present; just Nurse Able who was sitting at the desk in the corner making notes on a patient's chart. She glanced up at Hawkeye as he approached her.
"How's the girl doing?" He gave a brief nod of his head in the direction of the girl's bed.
"Still not talking, Hawk. Her injuries are almost fully healed. We've been taking her off of the morphine, slowly. If you wanted to talk to her, she should be awake." He gave her a strained smile of thanks before walking to the end of the girl's bed. Picking up the chart that hung from her bed on a single hook, he saw that all of her vitals were normal. She was progressing excellently. She could be out of here in a few days. He could send her home if only he knew where home for her was.
Hawkeye studied the girl for a long moment. Someone had propped her up slightly in the bed. This was just enough for her to see the immediate area around her. She could not see all of the others who shared her pain in this place. He didn't know if this had been by pure coincidence, or by the suggestion of Sydney. She did not seem interested in anything else but the ceiling. Her eyes were fixed on it, unwavering, as Hawkeye hovered at her bedside. He could see the pain, and above all else, the fear that shown in her gaze. Maybe she thought that if she ignored him he would just go away. Unfortunately, she did not know the determination and sheer stubbornness that was his driving force in situations such as these. He really needed to get her to talk.
Hawkeye's only wish at the present time was to be able to send this innocent girl home. He had no idea how she had found herself caught up in this war, but he had vowed to take her away from it as soon as humanly possible. This would never happen unless they had some kind of identification from her. This country that had been ripped apart at the seams was no place for a teenage girl. Her biggest worry in life should have been what boy was going to ask her to go steady with him, not about what measures she had to take in order to ensure her survival. This was the thing about war that he hated the most; the fact that it forced you to do things beyond possibility. Things no normal person should ever be called upon to do. Clearly, they were no longer normal.
Hawkeye placed her chart back onto its hook, and slowly sat down on the side of her bed. Her gaze did not stray from the ceiling for even a moment.
"It's nice to just look up there and pretend like none of this is really happening, isn't it?" This time, his words got a reaction from her. She ripped her eyes away from the ceiling and sought his gaze. She stared at him for a long moment, confusion and, then, relief invading her expression. "It's easier; there's no pain, no blood, no fear. It's just you and whatever else you've been dreaming up." The expression on her face remained the same as she pushed herself down further on the bed. "No, no. I want you to see this." Gently, Hawkeye lifted the girl onto the pillows, so that she was sitting up all the way. Her gaze suddenly darted to the bed. Hawkeye lifted her chin, so that her gaze was just on him. He could see that her eyes now glistened with unshed tears. Inside, his heart was breaking for her, but he knew he had to do this if she was ever going to face the mess that she had been forced into. "What are you so afraid of?" He asked softly, his eyes never straying from hers. "These are people, just like you. They've been mixed up in something that was never their fault; just like you. Do you understand that? None of this was your fault." He paused momentarily, letting this information sink in. Her gaze wandered from his, observing the wounded that lie across from her sleeping in their beds. Her eyes found his again before she began sobbing softly. Hawkeye reached up to grip her shoulders, loosely. "I'm sorry that this has happened to you; I'm sorry that you had your innocence stolen from you. They had no right to take it away. No right." At this point, his thoughts were beginning to intrude. He forced himself to stop and start again.
"You never deserved what happened to you. You were just doing a good thing-" He was cut off abruptly by the girl's harsh response.
"But it wasn't good enough! I tried to fit in, to pull my weight since I came here. No one wanted my help. In the end they were all depending on me. I thought I was going to be safe! I thought I knew what I was doing! Why didn't I see this coming?" Her words were swallowed up by the wracking sobs that shook her body. She leaned forward into Hawkeye as his arms closed around her.
"Shhh," he comforted. "You're not alone in this," he assured her. "Never alone." His words died away, softly. He sat like this with the girl enveloped in his arms until Nurse Able brought him back to reality, suggesting that he go back to the Swamp for some much needed sleep.