Chapter Eight

Harry paced back and forth through the crisp, tall stalks of grass, letting his hands brush their tips while he waited. He had laid out a picnic especially for them, but she was late, and he was eager.

His heart pounded a little faster at the thought of her. The curve of her hip, the shine of her hair, the way her nose curved upwards at the tip, the way her laugher sounded like-

Jesus, he was getting corny now. He sat down hard and put his head between his knees, but he couldn't erase the smile on his face. Harry was in love.

He heard gravel crunching; she was on her way down the road. His heart sped up and he leapt up as he saw her approaching through the trees. Without even shouting a greeting, he leapt down the incline and seized her.

"My," she gasped when they finally broke apart, "you don't give a girl much of a chance to get settled, do you?"

He smiled and led her back to the picnic area. "My apologies. How are you?"

"Well, alright, except that I was just accosted by this rather rude dentist. Horrid fellow. "

"I'll kill him."

"Don't, he's so handsome."

"Yeah, he is, isn't he?"

They laughed and kissed each other again, lying down on the blanket. Harry poured her a glass of beer, (the only available liquor at the moment,) and they sipped it while staring up at the sky.

"God, has it only been a week?"

"Week and a half actually."

"My, we're practically married, aren't we?"

"Just have to consummate it," she said casually, sipping her drink. He stopped and looked at her.

"Do you mean…"

"Yes, I do."

"Now?"

"No time like the present."

"But have you ever…"

"Not that I recall, although I have had several close encounters…"

"But you're so good at…"

"At what?"

"At…kissing…and stuff…"

"Well for heaven's sake, Harry, I'm a virgin, not a nun."

He laughed and squeezed her closer, kissing her forehead. "I have to say, I've grown very…fond of you."

"Is that all?"

He looked down at her seriously. "No, that's not all. These last few days have been…remarkable."

She smiled up at him. Her face seemed to take on a certain glow when she was smiling, he decided. "For me as well. But I suspect it will fade when the first few wounded finally roll in."

"Don't wish for it, dear, believe me. Enjoy this dry spell, but don't get greedy."

She sighed and settled into the crook of his shoulder. Being that close to him made her dizzy. By his sharp intake of breath, she could tell he felt the same.

"I don't think we're going to do much eating, are we?" she murmured.

"I don't think it's very likely," he replied as he rolled on top of her.

Hawkeye was furious. "If you're not here to play poker, I don't want you in my tent."

Sydney gave him a mocking smile. "Come now. I thought our relationship was based on so much more than gambling."

Hawkeye glowered in reply. "If you really are my friend you'd know I don't need to talk. I don't have to. I don't need to."

"Don't be idiotic, man, you're a doctor. You must have at least realized by now that you're feeling a little…down."

"Down, but not out, Sydney."

"I never accused you of being out, Hawk, but I want to make sure it never happens."

"It's not going to," Hawkeye growled, getting up and drowning his last gulp of gin. "I'm talking to Colonel Potter about this." He began to stride towards the door.

Sydney stood up. "Potter thought you might have a problem with me trying this. So he said to tell you that if you don't cooperate, he's not going to let you operate."

Hawkeye froze, and then very slowly turned. "What?" he said in a soft, hurt voice.

"It's nothing personal, Hawkeye, he just can't let you operate if he thinks you're mentally unstable."

"So he does think I'm unstable!"

Sydney walked over and guided the irate Hawkeye back to his cot. "Son, he's not the only one. B.J. and Charles-"

"The rat finks!"

"I really wish you'd stop viewing this as a personal attack."

"Well tell me, how am I supposed to view it?"

"As intervention, Hawkeye, intervention! A group of people who care very much for your well being have come to me because they are afraid for you, and they are worried about your behaviour."

"My behaviour…" Hawkeye spat, getting up. "As if none of them have ever had a low spell." He faced the window in the door and stared out at the bustling compound. "I can't believe Potter would threaten that…I'd never bring my personal problems into the O.R."

"You've got to understand, son, Potter doesn't know what's wrong with you, or how serious it is. He couldn't take the chance with those boys' lives, or he wouldn't be a very good commanding officer!"

Hawkeye sank onto his cot and put his head in his hands. "I know," he said in a low voice. It was quiet for a long time, and then he lifted his head. "I'm sorry for shouting."

"I'm sorry for being here."

"Don't be." He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "The fact is, I don't know what's wrong with me, Sydney."

"Quite normal. It'll surface. Try describing your symptoms."

"Insomnia, listlessness, despair, anguish, depression, disgust, paranoia, irritability, defensiveness, and really bad stomach aches."

Sydney raised his eyebrows. "Well I guessed as much."

Hawkeye stared at his old friend wryly. "Got any ideas, Doc?"

"When did this start?"

"Well, the despair, disgust, anguish and stomach aches have pretty much been constant since I got here. The rest…well I started feeling a little off just a few days before Nurse Dalton arrived…but it was odd…it sort of exploded on that day, when she got here. It was like, in the days before she came, I knew something was going to happen…and then it came true somehow…only I don't know what. It's all very strange, just out of reach…I can't explain it."

Sydney's mind was whirling. Nurse Dalton…again…could she really be the link?

"Lara Dalton," Sydney said quickly, "have you ever spoken with her?"

"Once," Hawkeye said quietly, looking up at Sydney sharply. "Didn't go very well."

"That's what I heard."

"But I don't see how that's relevant…"

"It's probably not, I'm just thinking out loud."

It went quiet again, and then Hawkeye sighed. "Sydney, I'm kind of tired. Do you think we could do this later?"

Sydney nodded. They had already made a massive leap. "Of course." He stood up. "Try to have a nap. Close your mind, don't think about things. And no more bizarre excursions without telling people where you're going."

"Okay, Syd."

Sydney exited the Swamp with a satisfied expression on his face. The hardest part, getting him to admit the problem, had gone over easier than expected. Everything else would be downhill from here, he was sure of it.

Harry rolled off of Lara with a satisfied groan. "How was that?"

"Nice," she said lazily, twiddling a piece of hair in her fingers. "I'm sorry I've been missing it all these years."

He laughed and kissed her neck. "Now I want to know more about you."

"I've told you everything there is to know already," she said, smiling. "It's my turn."

"Ask away."

She bit her lip. "Hmm." And then a name popped into her head. "Tell me about Hawkeye Pierce."

Harry propped himself up on an elbow. "Hawkeye? Why him?"

"I don't know. He seems different than the others."

"Well, he's always been a little off kilter. Bizarre, zany, witty, suave, great singer, superb surgeon, an intelligent, womanizing, boozing, cad, who is completely and utterly desperate."

"Desperate?"

"Hawkeye's a pacifist in a uniform. Hates the war. Hates seeing kids being cycled past his gloves on a conveyor belt. He's become rather bitter over the last few months, the action's been pretty heavy." Harry was quiet for a moment, thinking. But then he lightened up. "At least no matter what happens, you can always count on him to make you laugh."

"Laugh?" Lara scoffed. "That's not been my experience. Every time I've seen him he's been rude, boorish, irritable, dull, and downright depressive. And besides, in the first conversation we had he reamed me out!"

He glanced at her. "You just don't know what he's been through. He's normally pretty patient and light hearted. I just think that lately he's going through what you might call, 'a series of off-days'. I don't know, though, since you've been here I've hardly talked to him." He cuddled her closer. "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll get to meet the real Hawkeye soon. You'll love him, I'm sure of it."

"It seems doubtful," she replied coldly. He scoffed and blew gently on her neck.

"Lighten up, darling. We don't have to be back for another twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes?" she smiled, turning to face him. "Hm…what do you suppose we could we do with that time?"

He grinned down at her charmingly, a lock of dark hair falling in his eyes. "I could think of one idea."