Warnings: the usual bad language (a necessary evil, Sporky) and possibly mush. If not, consider yourselves conned. I apologise for the lengthy delay; school went back and they expected me to do assignments and pay attention.
Chapter 10Unfortunately for Igor, the trio's entrance left him little time for scattered thoughts. He snapped to attention, purely out of habit than anything else.
"Greetings, Igor!" called out James, in a strangely jubilant fashion.
"Erm… greetings, sirs," Igor replied, unsure how to respond.
"We'd merely like the pleasure of chatting to you for a little while, Igor. Is that all right with you?" asked Trapper.
Igor would have given anything to yell out, "No, it's not all right with me, now get out of the tent!" but held his tongue. He was, after all, only a Private. Instead, he settled for a fake smile and the words, "Yeah, sure, no worries, sirs."
The trio made their way around the servery to the back of the tent. Radar pulled a notebook seemingly out of thin air, along with a pencil.
"So," began Trapper. "What do you remember about the morning Frank was serving up food?" James seemed itching to butt in, but a glare from Trapper put paid to that.
"I remember he was incredibly enthusiastic," mumbled Igor. He was at pains not to give too much away. "He kept talking about serving the food as if he was receiving a visit from General MacArthur himself."
"Did you think the food was good?" asked James.
"I'm the one that cooks it! Do you think I'd be insulting my own handiwork? I'm less of a fool than you take me for." Igor stood up a little straighter, indignant.
The three glanced at each other. Igor was being a little trickier than first thought.
Trapper suddenly stood up straight. James and Radar, purely out of habit, followed suit. Trapper seemed suddenly struck by an idea. Radar dimly registered the unlikelihood of such an event, but was too awestruck to think much further.
Trapper shuffled slowly up to Igor, whose eyes had widened slightly.
"Igor?"
"Uhh… yes, s-sir?"
"Are you hiding something?"
Igor froze. How the hell did they…
"No! Why wo-would you, er, th-th-think that?"
"We have our suspicions," called James, and Trapper nodded in agreement.
"No, of course not! I am not hiding anything! How dare you accuse me of being shifty! I am not…" Igor trailed off when he realised he was being greeted by the same icy stare Trapper had inflicted on James earlier.
"I don't know what you're hiding, but one day you'll pay for it," declared Trapper in a low voice, eyes glistening. "One day I'll find out and you'll be sorry you ever became an army cook!" He slammed his fist on the servery and stomped out the door.
"Trapper! Stop!" James followed him; Radar haplessly followed James. As the three left, Igor gazed at the ground, shaking his head.
"Damn, I already regret it."
"Well, that got us next to nowhere," said James, as he and Trapper strolled through the compound. Radar had apparently run back to his office, but neither could be sure.
"I don't know about that, James," countered Trapper. "I'm sure he IS being shifty, even though he repeatedly tells us otherwise."
"You want to keep going with the… er… list?" James had realised halfway through that sentence that Radar was still in possession of said list, and was no longer in their company. He shook his head. "Never mind me."
"Will do. In any case, I think I've got post-op duty – damn! – so I am afraid we shall meet again this evening." Trapper looked sadly toward the rickety tin shed grandly referred to as "the Post-Op Ward."
"All right then. See you around," James called as he walked towards the Swamp.
"See you," Trapper called half-heartedly. His feet seemed to have a mind of their own as they carried him towards the tin shed.
"There better not be more trouble from Hawkeye and Frank tonight, or I'm gonna scream…"
……ooooooOOOOOOoooooo……
"Attention. Could Captain James McCulloch make his way to Colonel Blake's office. You have a visitor."
"A visitor?" James muttered. "What the…?" He didn't have the foggiest idea who'd be going around visiting him. After all, he'd arrived only days ago. "I don't think I've screwed up enough to get the MPs called in already… oh well, wait and see, won't we?" He mumbled incoherently to himself as his feet led him to Henry's office.
James entered to find Henry at his desk and a strange man before him. He saluted out of habit, though Trapper had told him somewhere along the line that he didn't need to.
"James, this is Major Sidney Freedman. Sidney, this is Captain James McCulloch." The two shook hands warmly. Sidney came across to James as a likable person, though he still wasn't sure what he was there for.
"James, Sidney is an Army Psychiatrist. I invited him over here to, er, assess us all, since we're all, uh, you know, under a bit of strain, what with Hawkeye and Frank… anyhow, you're first. Sidney, where would suit you?" said Henry.
"Hmm… would your office be okay to use, Henry?"
"Oh, uh, sure Sidney, that's fine. I'll, er, go and, uh, sign some papers or something." Henry smiled and backed out of his office.
Sidney plopped himself down in Henry's seat and motioned for James to sit down also. "Good afternoon, James. I am Major Sidney Freedman, and as Henry mentioned, I am in fact an Army Psychiatrist. Now, how are you today?"
"Erm, I'm all right thanks, yourself?"
"Quite fine, thank you. Now, you and I need a small chat, if that's all right with you," said Sidney.
"Oh yes, that's fine by me."
Sidney rearranged his face into a thinking expression. "I understand you arrived at the 4077th a few days ago?"
"That's correct, sir."
Sidney laughed. "Please, drop the sir. I'm just plain old Sidney. So, how are you finding life at the 4077th?"
James replied, "Well, it's kinda turbulent because two of the doctors are sick and I'm supposed to replace both of them. I mean, my mates back in Tokyo kept talking about how utterly fantastic Hawkeye Pierce was as a surgeon, everyone knows him all over Korea. Apparently last time he was sick they had to get two doctors in to replace him. Now I'm replacing him and Frank Burns, and all I know about him is that he's a rubbish surgeon. Apart from that, and not getting much sleep because something always goes wrong, and Trapper being a basket case, yeah, I'm fine."
Sidney paused in thought. "That doesn't exactly match my definition of 'fine,' but we'll get to that. What exactly has been going wrong?"
James proceeded to explain the events of the past week, while Sidney listened intently. He'd heard the basics from Henry, but James' retelling helped Sidney to fully understand.
"Hmmm," said Sidney at the end of it all. He definitely had a lot of work to do… "James, do you ever feel as if you're left out? Like everyone else understands something that you don't?"
"I don't think that anyone else understands any more than I do."
"You mean Frank and Hawkeye?"
"Yeah. That's it." James suddenly took a powerful interest in his shoelaces and didn't look Sidney in the eye.
"Have you tried to help?"
"Trapper, Radar and I talked to Igor today, but he was being shifty and not saying anything… don't tell Trap I said this, but I reckon Igor's involved."
……ooooooOOOOOOoooooo……
Trapper wandered into the Post-Op Ward. He'd found he wasn't technically on duty, but finding himself with little else to do had led him to patrol the Wards like the MPs patrolled the POW camps. His eye cast itself over the two rows of beds, all full of patients. He uncharacteristically waved at many of the patients; a few waved back or smiled in appreciation of his gesture. Like everyone else at the 4077th, the patients had by one way or another learned of the recent events plaguing the camp. They appreciated his friendliness, though some weren't sure exactly how he was able to keep up so happy a façade; by their reasoning he should have cracked by now.
The clock struck seven. Ginger approached him and said, "Doctor, Hawkeye needs to be sedated now, sir." Though she knew full well he wasn't on duty, sedating Hawkeye was an operation Trapper would entrust to no one else. He appreciated her reminder.
Trapper walked to Hawkeye's cot. He didn't look very good; Hawkeye that was. "How ya going today, Hawk?"
Hawkeye grimaced. "How the hell do you think?" His voice was weak; he didn't have a lot of energy.
"I take it lousy."
"Right, first time. You're getting better." Hawkeye sighed deeply. He hoped that Trapper would find out what was wrong soon… being sick really annoyed him more than he cared to let on. "I'm actually really tired today, which makes no sense since I've done nothing all day but lie on this cot. Oh well, maybe that means I'll get a good night's sleep."
"Why don't you have a nap now? It'll really help." Trapper hoped that Hawkeye would take him up on his suggestion. He did; Hawkeye rolled over and closed his eyes. "Good idea, Trapper," he mumbled, slurring his words.
Trapper waited until Hawkeye looked faintly asleep before he reached for the needle. He injected it as quietly as he could into Hawkeye's arm. Trapper surveyed him from above. Hawkeye was pale, too pale, and shivering.
"Nurse, keep an eye on Hawkeye. His condition may be destabilising," he called. The obligatory "yes, Doctor" called back.
"This can't go on," he muttered. He pulled a blanket over Hawkeye and walked away, trying to disallow the stark, painful sight of Hawkeye in that state from lodging in his mind.
Hours passed. The tapestry of night gradually weaved among the heavens, glittering with stars. Down below, in what might be best described as a tin shed with extensions, lay the patients, recovering from having bits of metal extracted from their sorry, weakened bodies. At the end lay two doctors, patients themselves, but without shrapnel wounds.
The Major suffered stomach and intestinal pains, along with a pain in his heart. Every waking moment, even through the fire inside him, he felt his heart weigh down as if it were leaden. This pain could not be healed by doctors; only the Major himself could do it, but given his current state of health and mind could not bring himself to do so.
The Captain lying in the cot next to him was (arguably) slightly better off; his wounds were mental. He suffered hallucinations of the fiercest kind and nightmares a horror movie would be hard-pressed to match. Every waking moment, he dreaded the time where his body could no longer take consciousness. His path to sleep was forced; collapsing and doing dreadful damage to himself in the process was formerly his only way. Nowadays, he was sedated by a fellow Captain, his long-suffering friend, with tears in his eyes. That Captain had since left, carrying an empty needle in his hand and an ocean of grief in his heart.
The night wore on. As the fellow patients happily slept and Frank lay in bed, Hawkeye had a dream.
Hawkeye woke. He was greeted by the morning sun shining across his eyes. "Urgh," he mumbled as the pillow found its way over his head instead of under it.
Knock, knock. "Pierce, get up now, you have patients to attend to!"
Hawkeye started to rise but stopped… that wasn't Frank's voice, nor Trapper's, nor Henry's… in fact, it had a Korean lilt to it…
"For crying out loud, paranoia will get you nowhere. The strange man's right, now get up," he sternly told himself. Though his aching body protested strongly to being moved, his managed to drag himself out of bed and into some pseudo-respectable clothes.
"Come out with your hands in the air! You are now a prisoner!"
Prisoner!
This could only mean North Koreans. Without thinking, Hawkeye took the jug of lighter fluid from the Still and gulped down huge mouthfuls before slightly opening the door. He knew it was folly to stand against an unknown number of North Koreans, especially when one didn't believe in the use of guns to defend oneself. If he was going to be dragged around in an indecent fashion, at least he'd have something in him.
Hawkeye reluctantly stepped out the door of the Swamp, knowing that he'd be dragged out if he didn't. He couldn't comprehend the sight that met his eyes.
Instead of the compound full of officers and enlisted personnel wandering around, it was chockers with North Koreans, who had everyone bundled up in groups of three or four, tied together tightly with pieces of rope Hawkeye recognised as belonging to the 4077th. Two spotted him wandering out of his tent and rushed to tie him up. They didn't put him with anyone else; evidently he was regarded as so important a prisoner they were going to take a little more care with him. The important-looking North Koreans dragged Hawkeye over to the Mess Tent, where they propped him up against the canvas of the tent outside. From there, Hawkeye got a good look all around camp.
The nurses were tied up more or less together; their faces were universally white, with the natural exception of Ginger, who was looking around worriedly. Nurse Cutler spotted Hawkeye and tried to wave; a sharp whack from a North Korean's stick put paid to that.
The enlisted men were also tied up more or less together. Hawkeye spotted Radar, who looked more scared than Hawkeye thought it was possible to look. Radar seemed frozen to where he sat and didn't dare move a muscle.
"That's funny," thought Hawkeye, "Igor's not with them…"
"So, who's the bigshot now, eh?"
Hawkeye's head snapped up, only to come eye-to-eye with Major Frank Burns. Frank, strangely enough, had a look of complete and utter joy on his face, as if the arrival of the North Koreans was the greatest thing since sliced bread.
"Frank!" whispered Hawkeye urgently. "What the hell are you doing? Those are North Koreans!"
Frank smiled his trademark sinister smile. "I am well aware of that, Pierce."
Hawkeye's expression turned to one of utter bewilderment. "Then why are you wandering around? You hate North Koreans! Why haven't you shot them to bits by now?"
"Pierce, compatriot, you mustn't have heard the latest news. The peace treaty has been signed!"
Even in his slightly inebriated state Hawkeye knew that was rubbish. "Peace treaty? What peace treaty? Between the North Koreans and Frank Burns?" He laughed softly, as if such a thing was ridiculous.
"That's exactly right."
Before Hawkeye could say another word, two North Koreans arrived; one was carrying a huge tray of mashed potato. Hawkeye recognised it as the very same he ate every day in the Mess Tent. He barely had time to wonder how the North Koreans had come by such a large amount of the stuff when the two both grabbed large handfuls – and squished it in Hawkeye's face.
"Bleargh! Eugh!" He tried to get it off but his hands were tied behind his back. No sooner had he cleared his throat than the two soldiers with the potato stuffed more in his mouth. On and on it went, Hawkeye either swallowing the potato, letting it sit on his face, or spitting it in the North Koreans' direction. One particularly pleasing spit landed in one of the North Koreans' eyes, sending him running toward the nearest tap.
"Well, well, well."
Hawkeye looked up. Frank Burns was standing above him, free as a bird, smirking as if there was no tomorrow. Hawkeye's eyes widened, but couldn't say anything due to the potato stuffed in his mouth.
"No biting, smart-alec remarks now, eh, Pierce!"
Hawkeye, sick to the stomach from all the potato he'd consumed, was starting to lose touch with reality. His head started to spin; images around him flitted in his mind, like flipping the corners of a book.
-The nurses in a bunch
-Henry standing alone, looking out at everything
-The enlisted men
-A North Korean, scary as all hell
-Radar's petrified face
-More damned mashed potato
-Igor, laughing frighteningly, eyes wide
-Frank's smirking face
Hawkeye looked frantically around him; he was nowhere to be seen. Spitting out a mouthful of potato over the North Korean's privates, he took a deep breath. His eyes darted around wildly. With the man he sought nowhere in sight, he yelled furiously -
"TRAPPER!"
……ooooooOOOOOOoooooo……
Trapper leant against the tin walls of Post-Op, sipping a mug of the ersatz coffee they'd all grown used to. It achieved more of a placebo effect than anything else; the coffee was so bad it wasn't likely to do anything for him except trick his weary mind into believing it was still awake. He wasn't aware of the hour of night, except that his patients needed checking on.
Before he could take a step into the Post-Op Ward, a hand knocked on his shoulder. Trapper tensed immediately, hoping it wasn't Hawkeye sleepwalking. Slowly turning around, he didn't immediately recognise the man…
"Hey!" he exclaimed. "Aren't you a-"
"Patient, yes," the man replied softly. "Sir, there are two patients at the end of the ward; one is thrashing about in his sleep, the other keeps vomiting into his bedpan. I realise you checked barely fifteen minutes ago, sir, but-"
"I was just about to check again. Thank you, er…"
"Lieutenant Hutchinson, sir. I urge you, come quickly."
Trapper took two steps toward Post-Op –
"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
The two jumped simultaneously. Lt. Hutchinson raced for Post-Op; Trapper muttered "Shit!" a little too loudly and ran through the door, turning on the light as he entered.
Bloody hell, that's probably done it, the whole camp'll be awake now!
As he ran, patients on either side blinked and groaned, forced awake by the sound and light. It didn't take Trapper long to reach the two sick doctors. Frank was sitting up, emptying what was left of the contents of his stomach into a bedpan. He looked up at Trapper, his blue-green eyes wide and prominent against his deathly pale complexion. Trapper, as always, thoroughly ignored him and hurried to Hawkeye's bedside. Hawkeye was thrashing and twitching in his sleep, flailing about and pushing away the bedcovers.
"TRAPPER!"
Trapper grabbed hold of Hawkeye's shoulders and began shaking him. "Hawkeye! Hawkeye! Wake up!"
"Trapper… no, god no… NO!" Hawkeye kept twitching and trying to curl up in the foetal position.
"Hawkeye... Hawkeye, it's okay, I'm here, I'm not leaving!"
"NO! Please no, not Trapper, he doesn't deserve this…"
Trapper's eyes were filling with tears. Many of the patients were by now fully awake, including Lt. Hutchinson who was closely watching Trapper's every move.
"Hawkeye! Wake up, please wake up, it's just a nightmare…" Trapper kept shaking him, desperate for him to awaken.
"Frank! You… you're not bound! You… and Igor! You're not… HELP ME! Don't…"
At the mention of his name Frank perked up and started paying a little more attention. Trapper's head shook. Hawkeye would normally have woken by now… what was it about this particular nightmare that kept him in its clutches?
He leant over and shouted in his ear, "HAWKEYE! WAKE UP!"
Why wouldn't they help? Why did they stand there? "God…if I ever get out of this mess, Frank and Igor are going to die…"
"HAWKEYE! WAKE UP!"
He shuddered at the noise… that wasn't the North Koreans… though they kept shaking him. Igor and Frank kept laughing in the corner, pointing their potato-smeared fingers at him and laughing some more. Henry stood by, surveying the scene from above. Stupid damn Henry. Fucking Frank and Igor…
"Hawkeye! Hawkeye, please, wake up, it's only a dream!"
A dream? A dream… what the hell would he know… Hawkeye looked up and saw –
"Trapper?"
Trapper was utterly lost for words. Hawkeye was wide-eyed in blind fear, stricken dumb by the horrors in his mind. He was trembling and shaking slightly, but not like the sleep-thrashing that had so alarmed his best friend. He barely noticed a thing as Trapper sat him up in bed and kneeled next to him. Though every patient was wide awake, the Post-Op Ward was completely and utterly silent.
"Hawkeye, don't worry, everything will be all right," he whispered. Hawkeye looked around, as if taking in his surroundings for the first time.
"Did I-"
"Hallucinate again, yes. Now please, calm down, go to sleep."
"I did… and the-the-the North Koreans…they captured us… and Frank and Igor were laughing at me, and Henry was talking to them…and they…they…" Hawkeye gazed at Trapper like a small child does its parent.
"Look. Never mind what they did. It's just a dream. You're safe, Hawkeye. The North Koreans aren't going to capture us." Trapper stood up, one hand still on Hawkeye's shoulder. "Try to get some rest. You'll be all right." He walked to the door, giving a small wave as he did so. Hawkeye smiled back in appreciation.
"Oh, and Lieutenant Hutchinson?"
"Yes, sir?" Lt. Hutchinson sat up; he had since returned to bed.
"Keep an eye on Hawkeye for me."
"Yes, sir."
Hawkeye shook his head. "No, Trapper, I don't need watching. I'm a big boy now."
Trapper sighed. "It's for your own good, Hawk. You'll thank me later." He stepped out of the Post-Op Ward without another word and shivered as he walked across the compound. Again, he wasn't sure what time it was, except there was no hint of sunlight (yet) and the stars still glittered brightly.
Dear God… what did I do in a past life to end up with this!
"Trap?"
"You're asleep."
Trapper wandered into the Swamp, making a beeline for his cot. He didn't much care whether James was really asleep or only pretending. All he wanted was sleep, however awful, and to stop being pestered.
"No, I'm not."
"Do you want me to change that, or can you do that by yourself?"
James saw the sense in keeping silent. Evidently Trapper hadn't had a good shift. He rolled over and tried to look remotely asleep.
Trapper sat on his cot, sighing deeply as he did so. "Sorry, pal. Hawkeye was having another nightmare… it wasn't pretty."
James sat up, all pretence of sleep lost in an instant. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"I'm sorrier. It means that Sidney's got his work cut out for him… as if he didn't already with me. I saw him and Henry discussing something…"
"You think it was you?"
"Who else? I mean, everyone around here's taken Hawkeye's illness pretty badly (and not cared about Frank's), but… I'm his best friend. He's worrying me to bits… and I guess it shows."
"Look, Trapper, worrying about it now isn't going to do you an ounce of good. Get some sleep and worry in the morning."
"I think it is the morning… all right, all right, I'm going to sleep." Trapper lay down and fell asleep almost instantly. As he did so, James flicked his eyes to the first glimmers of light reaching over the Korean mountains.
……ooooooOOOOOOoooooo……
Woohoo! Finished at last! Apologies again for the delay. Next chapter coming whenever it gets written! Probably won't be soon, so don't hold your breath. Thanks for reading:D