"Trapped"
Title: "Trapped"
Author: BoomC98
Email address: boomc98@hotmail.com (please don't post)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1589
Challenge: #3 - Missing Dreams
Warnings: subtle M/F non-con
Disclaimers: No one's paying me for this. The characters aren't mine. The ideas belong to my muse, who lives deep inside my mind where it's dark and scary.
Summary: If a dream is a wish your heart makes, then what is a nightmare?
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In between patients, Trapper John McIntyre needed a break. "Hey, Henry. I'll be back in ten, I gotta get some air." Henry Blake didn't look up from the abdomen he was probing around in as he replied, "Bring some back for me, will ya?"
Standing outside in the late autumn night, Trapper wished he had time for a nap. However, as he shared a puff on his cigar with Nurse Baker, he thought of other ways to spend a few minutes.
"I'm taking ten minutes," he chatted amiably.
"I'm on ten minutes." Baker looked over, knowing what Trapper was trying to get at, then smiled.
He grinned as he answered, "Between us, we got twenty minutes. Let's go."
As soon as Trapper laid down on the cot, he fell asleep. Baker sighed, got up, tamped out the still-smoldering cigar, covered Trapper with a blanket, and quietly left The Swamp. He wrapped his arms around his pillow and snuggled in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
John stirs fitfully, unable to get comfortable on the hard surface he feels underneath him. As he wiggles around, an unfamiliar voice breaks through, disturbing his sleep even more.
"Are you okay?" Groaning, he turns over, but he hears the voice again, a bit more insistent this time. He can also feel a hand on his arm, shaking it.
"I said, are you all right? Hey, answer me, are you all right?"
Reluctantly, he opens his eyes to see a pair of ice-blue eyes looking worriedly back at him. They belong to a young, blonde woman. Startled, he sits up, surprise leaving him momentarily speechless.
"Easy, just take it easy a minute. Are you okay?" She smiles at him as he gathers his wits.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess so. Why?" He struggles to remember where he is, WHY he's where he is.
She smiles slightly as she watches him compose himself. "Well, you were moaning pretty loudly there for a minute. It almost sounded like you were in pain."
He mentally checks himself out. "No, I'm not in pain. I..I...was dreaming, I guess." He looks around, puzzled. "Why are we on a train? Where are we going?"
Warily, she answers. "That must have been some dream, for you to forget where the Boston and Maine Express is going, especially considering we just left Boston."
His mind processes this piece of the puzzle, then he (remembers?) replies, "Boston? Oh, oh, yeah, right. Geez, yeah. Wow. I guess I shouldn't have had that extra beer before I boarded the train." He shakes his head slightly for effect, hoping to put her a bit more at ease.
Apparently, it works, because she relaxes slightly. "That could do it. Maybe some water would help. I'll get you some."
Now he smiles and licks his lips. "No, thanks, that's not necessary. I'm sure I'll be fine."
She responds, more easily now, "Oh, it's no trouble at all. I'd be happy to do it."
"Well, if you insist, that'd be great. But why are you being so nice to me, a total stranger?"
FINALLY, she smiles broadly. "Sorry, it's just how I was raised, wanting to make the world a better place." Her eyes twinkle for a moment. "Stay here. I'll get you that water." She gets up and he admires her as she eases her way down the swaying train car, her curves filling out a navy dress VERY nicely. He nods approvingly. "Looking good," he thinks to himself.
As he turns away from her, he spots his reflection in the window. He is dressed in his pin-striped suit, with the stripes going sideways, and his straw hat is perched on his head. He admires himself for a moment. "Looking good, Big John." He glances back up the aisle, where she is now returning with a glass of water. She passes it to him as she reclaims her seat next to him. "So," she teases, "Do you remember what you do in Boston?"
Later, they sit chatting on the bench. Rather, she is chatting. HE is flirting, smiling, chuckling, occasionally touching her arm at a particularly amusing line. Soon, he is inching towards her, gradually closing the space between them. She slides back. He moves in again. She slides over again. He grins at her. Quickly, she is against the window, her eyes never leaving his. He moves in against her, his hands on her knees.
Suddenly, she stands. "Would you excuse me? I need to freshen up a bit." Brushing abruptly past him, she glances frantically around the car, but the few passengers scattered about take no notice.
"Hmph," he grunts to himself. "She wants to play, does she?" Never one to disappoint a lady, he gets up and follows her down the car to the door marked "Powder Room." Glancing around to make sure no one is watching, he slips into the room, locking the door behind him.
She turns, shocked. "What are you doing in here? Can't a lady have some privacy?" Blushing, she collects herself, but he stops her. "Don't bother, it'll save time later."
Her eyes widen. "What do you mean?"
John grins. "What do you mean, 'what do I mean?' You obviously came in here for more privacy, and I approve." He leans in for a kiss, and she backs away.
"No, that's NOT why I came in here. I..PLEASE stop that. Ple-" Her request is drowned out when his mouth covers hers.
He is intoxicated by her scent, enjoying the feel of her in her arms, the heaving of her breasts against his chest. He feels himself becoming more and more aroused as she moans into his mouth.
"Stop, please. Please, stop, please? Please? I said no. Pleease..."
'Ahhhh...she really knows how to play, huh?' His excitement growing, he moves with her and puts his arm around her shoulders......feels her pushing him away...runs his hands through her hair, then down her body, ignoring the swats of her hands on his arms and body...he leans down, face inches from her breasts, closing his eyes as he moves, knowing that this has to be what she wants...after all, she said "Please."
When he opens his eyes again, he sees her curled up in a corner, sobbing and moaning, her skirt pushed up around her waist. Her white skirt... He also notices a white cap perched on her blonde hair.
"Where's the navy-" he has time to think before he is suddenly grabbed from behind. Strong arms pin his behind his back. He feels something clamp around his ankles, binding them together. Struggling against his captors, he is unable to break free before something heavy hits the back of his head and everything goes black.
He opens his eyes. No ice-blue eyes greet him this time. NOTHING greets him. It is completely dark. He tries to stretch out and his arms bump against the wall. BOTH arms bump against walls. He stretches out his legs, but his feet bump up against another wall, leaving him with his knees bent. "What the---?" He tries to sit up, but recoils when his head hits the roof. WHERE AM I??? He feels around...wood everywhere, a splinter in his hand, pitch dark.
"Hey! Hey, let me outta here!!" he shouts. "What is this, some kind of joke? C'mon, let me out of here!" He hears nothing but the clackety-clack of the train as it runs along the tracks. He begins to pound on the walls of his prison. "HEY!! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME!! HELP! LET ME OUT OF HERE!!!" Clackety clackety clack. Panic now begins to set in. Frantically, he pounds on the floor and the roof. "HELP!! HELP!!! IS ANYONE THERE???" Clackety clack. "HELP!!! I CAN'T GET OUT! HELP!!!" Then stops to listen again. Clack. "HELP! HELP!!! HELP!!!!!!!!!!!"
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"Cap'n McIntyre? Cap'n McIntyre! What are you doing under there? Are you all right?" Radar's worried voice pierced through his screams and he frantically started to pound again. "HELP! GET ME OUT OF HERE!"
"Cap'n McIntyre, I can't. You'll have to slide out from under the bunk yourself!"
"I can't! I'm trapped! I-" Radar's words hit him like a brick. "Under the bunk?" he thought. Tentatively, Trapper reached out and felt above him. Sure enough, mere inches from his nose, the "ceiling" was soft. He stretched tentatively and his arms and legs extended fully from his body. He wiggled them a moment, not daring to believe he could escape. Slowly, sloowwwwly, reaching for every inch in front of him, he crawled out from under his bunk, then lay there for a moment.
"Trapper?" Radar had dropped any sense of formality at the sight of Trapper wiggling under his cot. "Are you okay? Colonel Blake says they need you back in the O.R. ten minutes ago."
Sighing deeply, Trapper looked up. "Yeah, Radar, I'm okay." Then, bracing himself on the bunk, he rose to his feet, shaking his head. Was this real? "I guess I was just dreaming. As if this place wasn't a nightmare all on its own." He smiled wryly and Radar sighed in relief. Trapper followed Radar out of the tent, pausing only to glance briefly back at his cot. Shuddering slightly, he headed to the O.R.
Where the nightmares were real.
finis