Who: House and [OPEN] What: They're sharing a drink they call 'loneliness', but it's better than drinking alone Mike's Hard Lemonade When/Where: Late evening, the "bar" on base
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Even if army bases didn't have a fully stocked bar the soldiers on it usually managed to brew up some equivalent. Hawkeye should know, cooked up enough at the 4077th. Still this one did have a proper bar, and Hawkeye intended to take full advantage of it. The fact the place is cluttered only makes him feel like he is back in the Swamp. Swinging up to the bar and making himself a martini Hawkeye sits down at a table in the middle of the bar. Ah cool, refreshing, real honest gin. Though what is that racket from the jukebox? Nevermind, small pain to put up with for some real gin.
If he wanted to be honest with himself, House would have to admit that he was more than a little impressed that the Vortex That Was managed to spit Hawkeye Pierce right into the middle of another army base. As far as existential penance went, this guy couldn't seem to get a break.
House was also reluctantly please that the guy was around because, growing up, Hawkeye Pierce seemed like the only guy on television he could see himself getting along with. What this said about House himself was open to interpretation.
He finishes his scotch and gets up to order another. When he walks past the gangly, gray-haired doc, he begins to hum "Suicide Is Painless" under his breath.
Hawkeye himself couldn't believe that of all the places he could have ended up it had to be another army base. At least it was in the States."What is that tune? I seem to remember someone humming it back in Korea."
Now that he was thinking of Korea again Hawkeye didn't want to admit that just maybe, he might be missing everybody from the 4077th. Well he knew a good solution for that. More of this fine martini he had sitting in front of him.
"That tune," he began, "is the only thing they're going to play beneath your eulogy. It's the only thing you're ever going to be known for." At the bar, he traded his empty glass for one with substance. 'Thought about it and then, in a moment of abstract charity, ordered a finger of straight gin. He brought both glasses back to the table and tossed coasters down beneath them.
"Me, I'm gonna' close with a little Stills & Nash. And I want a beautiful, well-proportioned, weeping woman delivering my final epitaph."
Hawkeye smirks and looks at House, "I'll just have the beautiful, well-proportioned woman if you don't mind." Looking down at the glass Hawkeye mulls over accepting it. He quickly decides if booze is good, then free booze is even better. Picking up the glass he takes a few sips before setting it back down. "Nice to see somethings don't change at least," he comments.
"Nice to see that enough people are still interested in your bony ass to keep you in syndication," he retorts, sliding thumb and forefinger around the belly of his glass. "Although I can't say I see the appeal of putting sarcastic, substance-abusing doctors on television --" a theatrical grimace "-- I mean, what kind of example are we setting for the children?"
He crunched a scotch-soaked cube to punctuate the question.
"Oh just a great example. I mean what kid doesn't need to know how to set up a still, avoid work, and ask pretty girls out," he says while smirking once more. "I'm just shocked anyone would find our little corner of the war that interesting. They tell me we were one of the highest rated shows on television. I'm scared to watch it, I might ruin the end of the war for myself!"
For the first time in a long time, House discovered that he was smiling out of pure spite of himself. It was a ripple that backed all the way from his spine to his gut, and felt like a parasite in both; he shifted his his to nonconguence on the stool. "I watched you," he admitted, "doesn't that matter?"
"You really did?" Hawkeye looks down at his gin, furrows his brow, and looks back up at House. He takes a deep breath, and starts to open his mouth to speak. He quickly shuts it, and looks down again. He had that sick feeling in his stomach just like when he would pick on Radar too hard, or yell at Trapper when he caught Hawkeye in a really bad mood. Hawkeye knew that feeling was telling him when he had done the wrong thing. He tilts his head back up and looks House right in the eye and says, "Why watch me though?"
"Because re-runs of Gilligan's Island sucked," he said, then shrugged. "I don't know. Would what you did in Korea mean more or less to you if the show weren't successful? You want to save lives and have your anonymity?"
Hawkeye shook his head, "No it wouldn't mean any less. It's all about saving lives. Even if the best we could do was meatball surgery." Taking a sip of gin he continued, "Has nothing to do with my anonymity or not, only my patient, and if they live or die. That's the only measure of success we have as doctors. The only thing that matters. I guess I was pretty good at that. Hope I still am, I have a lot of journals to catch up on."
"Sure, it's still saving lives, but it's different. You're not in the shit anymore. Things come with a whole new pre-packaged position: you're not pulling shrapnel out of some kid from Yeongcheon, you're plumping some housewife's lips or tucking in some guy's love handles." He pushed his back against the chair and settled some weight between his shoulderblades; the drink was warming in his hand. Intellectually, he felt limber.
"You left Korea, but I'm gonna' lay down money that Korea didn't leave you. Whatever you do now, you're going to be unsatisfied. Trapper John tried making it work as a country doctor after the war," he pointed out, "and he got cancelled."
Hawkeye laughed so hard he almost out of his chair. "Trap as a country doctor, that I have to see," he managed between laughs. "I think you are right though. Never thought I would actually be a little disappointed about being just a mundane doctor again. In Korea all I looked forward to was getting back to Crab Apple Cove, and treating kids for measles, or chicken pox. Now here I am no war, and I'm being depressed about it," he laughs again. "I need to have a good time, ease up a little. Get used to not being shelled on a regular basis. Any ideas?"
House picked up his drink and stayed quiet for a few seconds, ostensibly giving the question his serious consideration. After a time, he stamped his lips to the side of the glass and gave Hawkeye the equivalent of a facial shrug.
Hawkeye sat up and smiled. "An excellent plan," he said and then proceeded to down the last of his gin. "I have another idea, how about a card game sometime?
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House was also reluctantly please that the guy was around because, growing up, Hawkeye Pierce seemed like the only guy on television he could see himself getting along with. What this said about House himself was open to interpretation.
He finishes his scotch and gets up to order another. When he walks past the gangly, gray-haired doc, he begins to hum "Suicide Is Painless" under his breath.
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Now that he was thinking of Korea again Hawkeye didn't want to admit that just maybe, he might be missing everybody from the 4077th. Well he knew a good solution for that. More of this fine martini he had sitting in front of him.
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"Me, I'm gonna' close with a little Stills & Nash. And I want a beautiful, well-proportioned, weeping woman delivering my final epitaph."
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He crunched a scotch-soaked cube to punctuate the question.
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He tilts his head back up and looks House right in the eye and says, "Why watch me though?"
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"You left Korea, but I'm gonna' lay down money that Korea didn't leave you. Whatever you do now, you're going to be unsatisfied. Trapper John tried making it work as a country doctor after the war," he pointed out, "and he got cancelled."
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"Substance abuse is always a good fallback plan."
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