disclaimer: same as before

Here you go, the second chapter. I'm sorry it's so short, I'll try to make the next ones a little longer, but I'm making no promises. The third chapter is in progress and hopefully it won't take too long. Enjoy and please review.


chapter two- COLOR OF SILENCE

I spent the long trip back checking the patients. I didn't want to talk to anyone who would ask me questions I still couldn't answer.

I left Frank to explain the reason's for Hawkeye's absence to Radar and Klinger. As far as I was concerned, that was just the beginning of his penance.

That bus trip was extremely different from the one earlier in the day. On the way there, there had been an atmosphere of tension, apprehension, and fear that Hawk and I took upon ourselves to ease. On the way there, we'd talked and laughed and made fun of Frank. On the way there, "we" had been a larger number. On the way back, the tension, apprehension, and fear weren't for ourselves anymore; we had no part in easing it. Therefore those emotions took a back seat to the helplessness, confusion, and at least in my case, anger at Frank.

Normally, any number of 4077 personnel in an enclosed space equals lively conversation and a heavy dosage of bantering. We'd found an exception to that rule.

The groans of pain from a couple of the soldiers interrupted the oppressive silence as the bus jolted over yet another bump. One poor guy stifled a scream.

When we finally reached camp, Radar honked the horn, and the unloading began. The four 4077th natives on the bus went about the work in the same silence that had filled the bus and talked only when necessary. Everyone who came to help obviously noticed the conspicuous absence among us, but no one dared to ask. Except the other officers.


"McIntyre, where's Pierce? We've got a chest case waiting," Margaret asked in frustration as she walked into the scrub room. She hadn't been at the bus because she'd been doing triage in pre-op.

"Get the kid ready. I'll take him."

"But Pierce is the chest—"

"I know, Major. Go get the kid ready, please."


"Hell's bells McIntyre, I can't find Pierce anywhere. He can't go running off when we've got wounded. Where in God's name is he? And if you so much as mention the still, the O-Club, or Rosie's, I'll tan his hide myself and make General MacArthur a new leather coat," Henry yelled as he followed me into OR.

"Henry, you want to take the belly wound? I've got the chest case."

He opened his mouth to ask again, but he must've changed his mind because I didn't hear another word out of him except equipment requests.


"Trapper! I haven't seen Hawkeye since you got back, and one of the nurses has a question on one of his patients in post-op. Do you know where I can find him?" Father Mulcahy asked as he caught sight of me where I stood outside OR on a short break.

"Hawk might be a little hard to reach right now. I'll take a look at the patient."


I managed to put off their questions for the whole OR session, but I was confronted as soon as the last patient was safely in post-op.

"All right McIntyre, Frank, cut the crap," Henry demanded in frustration when we were all scrubbing down. "Where the hell is Pierce?"

Neither one of us answered.

"Look, it's a simple enough question. Answer it or I'll put all three of your butts in slings."

"Henry, Hawkeye isn't here," I finally said.

"I can see that. That's why I asked you where he is."

"I mean, he didn't come back with us. He went back with the Chinese."

That shut him up. All activity in the room, except for that of Frank and I, came to a complete halt.

"The major genius here decided to ignore the no gun rule, and when the Chinese found out, they were going to call off the deal. Hawkeye volunteered to go back to help them treat their guys if they'd go through with the exchange."

"And you just let him go?!" Henry asked incredulously.

I sighed, shut off the water, and grabbed a towel. I looked up and met Henry's eyes for the first time since I'd been back. "You know how stubborn Hawk gets when he thinks he's doing the right thing."

Henry nodded in understanding and dropped my gaze. There was a brief silence before he spoke again, "I really don't want this all over camp."

"It will be."

"Yeah."

One of those silences that seemed to be becoming more and more common around camp fell over the room. Frank finished washing and left the room. The nurses gradually filtered out, undoubtedly to begin the news circulation. At last, it was just Henry, Hot Lips, and I. Hot Lips sank down onto the bench near the door. Henry and I just stood where we were, looking straight past each other at the opposite wall.

Henry was the first to break the trance. He mumbled something under his breath about a belt and headed out the door. I was about to follow his example and plant myself in front of the still for the rest of the day when I caught sight of Hot Lips' face. Concern I would've understood, even expected even if she hated Hawkeye, but the pain and guilt I saw caught me off guard.

"Margaret?"

She jumped and looked up at me with… fear?

"I—uh… I'm expected in post-op," she said, slipping into Major mode as she almost bolted for the door.

Confused but still too deep in my own feelings to make myself care much, I resumed my original course of action. I headed for the Swamp to spend some quality time with the one remaining tent-mate that could just maybe dull the pain of the absence another for awhile.