MASH Hawkeye/Trapper The Thing Is
Title: The Thing Is
Characters: Hawkeye, Trapper, BJ
Pairing: Hawkeye/Trapper
Rating: PG-13
Length: 1714
Summary: Post-Ep for “Welcome to Korea.” The boys try to figure out how to live without each other, but the thing is, they can’t.
I.
The funny thing is: no one talks about Him.
At first, Hawkeye thinks it’s Henry’s death. Because, really, He’s still alive and well, much more well than he ever was here, while Henry is dead, buried alone in the unforgiving grave of the Pacific. After people start smiling again, Hawkeye chalks it up to BJ Hunnicutt, the new surgeon who’s angry and bitter and yet still smiles like he’s from California. Then he blames Potter, who showed up out of the blue one day, or the gray, because the sky isn’t very blue in Korea, and turned the whole camp on its head. But now both of them have been accepted into the fold, as permanent as the still, or the beds, or He was, before He left.
It’s weird, not hearing His name. Hawkeye’s gotten so used to the way Margaret would screech it after a particularly well-executed prank, or Henry would groan it during a lecture when He had made a particularly lewd comment, or Radar would stammer it when He had teased the poor boy, showing tenderness Hawkeye was sure the man reserved solely for children. So the fact that no one says the name any more is daunting, strange, and a little painful, if we’re being honest.
And honestly, sometimes Hawkeye wants to scream it. He wants to stand in the middle of the minefield next to the latrines and scream John Francis Xavier McIntyre until he loses his voice and he can’t remember anymore. Because that’s the hardest part, really, remembering. Even if no one wants to put a name to it, they all remember Him. Sometimes, when BJ laughs a certain way, Margaret will stop what she’s doing and stare at the man like she’s seen a ghost. Sometimes, Frank will look at the still for a moment with something like a wistful expression on his face, almost like he actually misses the man who built it. Sometimes, Radar will run into their tent after midnight and stare at BJ’s sleeping form with anger, as if BJ has walked into a place not wholly vacated by its previous owner, as if somehow BJ has stolen Trapper from them. And sometimes, only sometimes, Hawkeye will bury his face in the yellow bathrobe he keeps under his bed and try to breathe in a scent that’s barely there. It isn’t reminiscing, it’s forgetting in stages, and it’s the only option any of them has.
II.
The sad thing is: He didn’t leave a note.
Not that there was time, of course. Radar must have stressed that a dozen or more times, like it was a valid excuse. It’s sad, how they always try to justify everything in a war with no justifications. Radar must have spent days staring at Hawkeye like the older man was going to crack. Which was understandable, really, because Radar was the only one who knew, beyond a doubt, while everyone else was just assuming. “They’re making asses of themselves,” He would say, halfway between martini six and martini sixteen. It wasn’t a very witty remark, but it was something that always seemed to make them laugh. Looking back on it, Hawkeye blames the alcohol, but really, he would have laughed at anything Trapper McIntyre said, just because he knew the blonde would laugh back, and Hawkeye would do just about anything to hear the sound of that man’s laughter again.
Everyone keeps telling him that he should be angry. Or, not telling him, because obviously no one’s talking about Him, but Hawkeye can see it in their faces. Margaret doesn’t look like she’s slept in a month and Frank keeps waiting for the screaming Hawkeye isn’t sure is ever going to come. Even Klinger seems on edge around him, waiting for that moment when he finally loses it and tries to get to Boston on one of the horse-and-carriage vehicles the natives use.
No matter how many times he tells himself he isn’t crazy, Hawkeye can’t seem to shake the notion that he is.
III.
The scary thing is: Hawkeye still can’t remember where He ends and he begins.
He’s not even in the compound anymore; hell, He’s not even in the country anymore. So why Hawkeye still has difficulty remembering he can exist without Him is something no one seems to understand. Whenever someone says “Hawkeye,” instead of “HawkeyeandTrapper,” there’s a ringing in Hawkeye’s ears that won’t go away. Whenever Margaret calls for a surgeon for removing shrapnel, she trips over a “Trap” before she gets to the “Hawk,” which somehow is oddly fitting, if you consider the situation. Father Mulcahy mentions something about losing your other half, like he has some idea as to what Hawkeye’s going through, and he even almost mentions love, but he swallows that word just like everyone keeps swallowing the name of a man who doesn’t live here, anymore.
Only, He does. Only, sometimes Hawkeye forgets his own name and doesn’t respond the first three or four times it’s yelled in the middle of the OR. Only, sometimes Radar slips and calls BJ “Trapper” which is weird and awkward in its own right, because everyone knows BJ will never replace Trapper, even if it seems like he’s doing that already. Only, sometimes Frank mutters something in his sleep about “Ferret Face,” and “Hawk,” and “Trapper!” Only, only, only. If Hawkeye could take all these “onlys” and make them something viable, he could build a boat big enough to sail to Boston and bring back the only man he’s ever loved.
IV.
The easy thing is: Trapper doesn’t have to say goodbye.
He knows he should, because He’s going to expect a note or a letter or even a piece of his hair to remember him by. He’s going to want roses, because He’s definitely more the girl in this relationship. He’s going to come home and He’s going to realize that Trapper isn’t here anymore. It’s painful, to know that He’s going to come home and Trapper isn’t going to be here.
“Do you want to leave a note?” Radar asks, not really meeting Trapper’s eyes. It’s like the kid’s angry with him for leaving; like this is somehow Trapper’s fault.
Quickly, Trapper kisses the boy’s-man’s now-cheek. “That should be enough for him-“ because he still can’t say His name “I’m already leaving him everything that counts.” Radar doesn’t flinch from the kiss like Trapper is expecting, instead he shakes his head, almost angrily, almost like the kid’s grown the balls to reprimand him.
Instead, Radar smiles, a half-smile that breaks his heart, and turns away as Trapper goes to board the plane. “Goodbye, Hawkeye,” he whispers to the wind, and a part of him, the part Korea drove crazy, thinks maybe He can hear it.
V.
The hard thing is: not saying Hawkeye’s name when he shouldn’t.
He finds Louise at the airport. She’s standing there in a blue dress that looks twice as good as it should have because she’s in it. The girls are standing next to her, looking so much bigger than they did when he left. He runs to them, pulling Louise into his arms as the girls greet him with cries of “Daddy, Daddy!” As the Boston air runs through him as he leaves the airport, he can feel the blood in his veins start to move again. For the first time since he got to Korea, he feels alive again.
And yet, he can’t say this feels like living.
At night, after the girls have gone to bed, which they did so only after he promised to tell them everything in the morning, Louise seduces him with the most outrageous lingerie he’s ever seen. He’s hard a full minute before she touches him, and he can’t seem to control himself as he’s ripping off the clothes that aren’t really there, clothes, he finds out later, which cost way too much for what they’re covering. He’s scraping at her skin and burying himself in her warmth and proving to himself that he’s really home, and safe, and in his wife’s arms.
And then, right before it all comes crashing down on him, he feels His name on the tip of his tongue and smothers the sound against Louise’s skin, hoping her tactile learning won’t allow her to figure this out.
VI.
The thing is: neither one of them can be themselves without the other one.
Hawkeye takes to wearing his red bathrobe all the time, and BJ takes to wearing a blue one that isn’t as bright or obnoxious as Trapper. And really, that explains everything. BJ is like a watered down version of Trapper, just like California is the watered down version of Boston. He’s cautious where Trapper was reckless, calm where Trapper was angry, and, above all, loyal where Trapper was willing to fuck Hawkeye into whatever surface was readily available. Not that Hawkeye cares about the last part; as much as he loves BJ, he couldn’t even begin to fathom having sex with him.
Trapper takes to staying out later than he should. He drinks himself into stupors at a local bar and spends the night with his head in his hands talking about salt-and-pepper hair and the smell of Korea on His skin. He talks about God like he’s a General and Satan like he’s a Korean, like maybe if he rationalizes everything the way that He used to rationalize everything, Trapper won’t feel so lonely anymore. Maybe he’ll stop feeling like he’s walking around without his blood, like the liquid coursing through his veins is really mud, and like his heart is still in Korea.
Sometimes they’ll stare at the sky at exactly the same time and they can almost see each other across the thousands of miles that lie between them. Only they don’t know this, because the sun gets in Trapper’s eyes and the sky’s too dark for Hawkeye to see. So they turn away from the face of a God they don’t believe in anymore, never really believed in to begin with, and they try to make their way in lives that don’t make sense.
Only, sometimes, the real thing is, Hawkeye and Trapper fell in love, and neither has forgotten it since.
Characters: Hawkeye, Trapper, BJ
Pairing: Hawkeye/Trapper
Rating: PG-13
Length: 1714
Summary: Post-Ep for “Welcome to Korea.” The boys try to figure out how to live without each other, but the thing is, they can’t.
I.
The funny thing is: no one talks about Him.
At first, Hawkeye thinks it’s Henry’s death. Because, really, He’s still alive and well, much more well than he ever was here, while Henry is dead, buried alone in the unforgiving grave of the Pacific. After people start smiling again, Hawkeye chalks it up to BJ Hunnicutt, the new surgeon who’s angry and bitter and yet still smiles like he’s from California. Then he blames Potter, who showed up out of the blue one day, or the gray, because the sky isn’t very blue in Korea, and turned the whole camp on its head. But now both of them have been accepted into the fold, as permanent as the still, or the beds, or He was, before He left.
It’s weird, not hearing His name. Hawkeye’s gotten so used to the way Margaret would screech it after a particularly well-executed prank, or Henry would groan it during a lecture when He had made a particularly lewd comment, or Radar would stammer it when He had teased the poor boy, showing tenderness Hawkeye was sure the man reserved solely for children. So the fact that no one says the name any more is daunting, strange, and a little painful, if we’re being honest.
And honestly, sometimes Hawkeye wants to scream it. He wants to stand in the middle of the minefield next to the latrines and scream John Francis Xavier McIntyre until he loses his voice and he can’t remember anymore. Because that’s the hardest part, really, remembering. Even if no one wants to put a name to it, they all remember Him. Sometimes, when BJ laughs a certain way, Margaret will stop what she’s doing and stare at the man like she’s seen a ghost. Sometimes, Frank will look at the still for a moment with something like a wistful expression on his face, almost like he actually misses the man who built it. Sometimes, Radar will run into their tent after midnight and stare at BJ’s sleeping form with anger, as if BJ has walked into a place not wholly vacated by its previous owner, as if somehow BJ has stolen Trapper from them. And sometimes, only sometimes, Hawkeye will bury his face in the yellow bathrobe he keeps under his bed and try to breathe in a scent that’s barely there. It isn’t reminiscing, it’s forgetting in stages, and it’s the only option any of them has.
II.
The sad thing is: He didn’t leave a note.
Not that there was time, of course. Radar must have stressed that a dozen or more times, like it was a valid excuse. It’s sad, how they always try to justify everything in a war with no justifications. Radar must have spent days staring at Hawkeye like the older man was going to crack. Which was understandable, really, because Radar was the only one who knew, beyond a doubt, while everyone else was just assuming. “They’re making asses of themselves,” He would say, halfway between martini six and martini sixteen. It wasn’t a very witty remark, but it was something that always seemed to make them laugh. Looking back on it, Hawkeye blames the alcohol, but really, he would have laughed at anything Trapper McIntyre said, just because he knew the blonde would laugh back, and Hawkeye would do just about anything to hear the sound of that man’s laughter again.
Everyone keeps telling him that he should be angry. Or, not telling him, because obviously no one’s talking about Him, but Hawkeye can see it in their faces. Margaret doesn’t look like she’s slept in a month and Frank keeps waiting for the screaming Hawkeye isn’t sure is ever going to come. Even Klinger seems on edge around him, waiting for that moment when he finally loses it and tries to get to Boston on one of the horse-and-carriage vehicles the natives use.
No matter how many times he tells himself he isn’t crazy, Hawkeye can’t seem to shake the notion that he is.
III.
The scary thing is: Hawkeye still can’t remember where He ends and he begins.
He’s not even in the compound anymore; hell, He’s not even in the country anymore. So why Hawkeye still has difficulty remembering he can exist without Him is something no one seems to understand. Whenever someone says “Hawkeye,” instead of “HawkeyeandTrapper,” there’s a ringing in Hawkeye’s ears that won’t go away. Whenever Margaret calls for a surgeon for removing shrapnel, she trips over a “Trap” before she gets to the “Hawk,” which somehow is oddly fitting, if you consider the situation. Father Mulcahy mentions something about losing your other half, like he has some idea as to what Hawkeye’s going through, and he even almost mentions love, but he swallows that word just like everyone keeps swallowing the name of a man who doesn’t live here, anymore.
Only, He does. Only, sometimes Hawkeye forgets his own name and doesn’t respond the first three or four times it’s yelled in the middle of the OR. Only, sometimes Radar slips and calls BJ “Trapper” which is weird and awkward in its own right, because everyone knows BJ will never replace Trapper, even if it seems like he’s doing that already. Only, sometimes Frank mutters something in his sleep about “Ferret Face,” and “Hawk,” and “Trapper!” Only, only, only. If Hawkeye could take all these “onlys” and make them something viable, he could build a boat big enough to sail to Boston and bring back the only man he’s ever loved.
IV.
The easy thing is: Trapper doesn’t have to say goodbye.
He knows he should, because He’s going to expect a note or a letter or even a piece of his hair to remember him by. He’s going to want roses, because He’s definitely more the girl in this relationship. He’s going to come home and He’s going to realize that Trapper isn’t here anymore. It’s painful, to know that He’s going to come home and Trapper isn’t going to be here.
“Do you want to leave a note?” Radar asks, not really meeting Trapper’s eyes. It’s like the kid’s angry with him for leaving; like this is somehow Trapper’s fault.
Quickly, Trapper kisses the boy’s-man’s now-cheek. “That should be enough for him-“ because he still can’t say His name “I’m already leaving him everything that counts.” Radar doesn’t flinch from the kiss like Trapper is expecting, instead he shakes his head, almost angrily, almost like the kid’s grown the balls to reprimand him.
Instead, Radar smiles, a half-smile that breaks his heart, and turns away as Trapper goes to board the plane. “Goodbye, Hawkeye,” he whispers to the wind, and a part of him, the part Korea drove crazy, thinks maybe He can hear it.
V.
The hard thing is: not saying Hawkeye’s name when he shouldn’t.
He finds Louise at the airport. She’s standing there in a blue dress that looks twice as good as it should have because she’s in it. The girls are standing next to her, looking so much bigger than they did when he left. He runs to them, pulling Louise into his arms as the girls greet him with cries of “Daddy, Daddy!” As the Boston air runs through him as he leaves the airport, he can feel the blood in his veins start to move again. For the first time since he got to Korea, he feels alive again.
And yet, he can’t say this feels like living.
At night, after the girls have gone to bed, which they did so only after he promised to tell them everything in the morning, Louise seduces him with the most outrageous lingerie he’s ever seen. He’s hard a full minute before she touches him, and he can’t seem to control himself as he’s ripping off the clothes that aren’t really there, clothes, he finds out later, which cost way too much for what they’re covering. He’s scraping at her skin and burying himself in her warmth and proving to himself that he’s really home, and safe, and in his wife’s arms.
And then, right before it all comes crashing down on him, he feels His name on the tip of his tongue and smothers the sound against Louise’s skin, hoping her tactile learning won’t allow her to figure this out.
VI.
The thing is: neither one of them can be themselves without the other one.
Hawkeye takes to wearing his red bathrobe all the time, and BJ takes to wearing a blue one that isn’t as bright or obnoxious as Trapper. And really, that explains everything. BJ is like a watered down version of Trapper, just like California is the watered down version of Boston. He’s cautious where Trapper was reckless, calm where Trapper was angry, and, above all, loyal where Trapper was willing to fuck Hawkeye into whatever surface was readily available. Not that Hawkeye cares about the last part; as much as he loves BJ, he couldn’t even begin to fathom having sex with him.
Trapper takes to staying out later than he should. He drinks himself into stupors at a local bar and spends the night with his head in his hands talking about salt-and-pepper hair and the smell of Korea on His skin. He talks about God like he’s a General and Satan like he’s a Korean, like maybe if he rationalizes everything the way that He used to rationalize everything, Trapper won’t feel so lonely anymore. Maybe he’ll stop feeling like he’s walking around without his blood, like the liquid coursing through his veins is really mud, and like his heart is still in Korea.
Sometimes they’ll stare at the sky at exactly the same time and they can almost see each other across the thousands of miles that lie between them. Only they don’t know this, because the sun gets in Trapper’s eyes and the sky’s too dark for Hawkeye to see. So they turn away from the face of a God they don’t believe in anymore, never really believed in to begin with, and they try to make their way in lives that don’t make sense.
Only, sometimes, the real thing is, Hawkeye and Trapper fell in love, and neither has forgotten it since.