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Infatuation	By : Ridgley-Warfield Category: M through R > MASH > MASH Views: 2024 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own MASH or the characters. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Title: Infatuation
Characters: Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce/ Father John Patrick "Dago Red" Mulcahy
Rating: M for Sexual Content
Summary: There's a difference between seeing someone and noticing them.
Author's Note: Based on the characters from the movie. This is Mulcahy's POV. Please ignore any typos. I don't always catch them all. Thanks for reading.

When Hawkeye and Trapper left, I decided to turn in. I took a shower and managed to remember my mirror so that I could shave, then returned to my tent. I knew Hawkeye had purposely not invited me along so that he could dupe Trapper and Duke into believing the false past we had fabricated. I hoped Hawkeye was right and that it would shut them up all together, but I still felt guilty for lying.
I was somewhat nervous that Hawkeye had my journal …and the key…and a page of notes he had taken as he worked to translate it, but I had to trust that he would guard it with his life. I knew at the very least that my name wasn't on it and it would take both time and effort for anyone to try to translate it—neither of which was found in abundance at the 4077th—so I felt assured that it wouldn't easily be traced back to me.
I took one of my books off my shelf and laid in my bunk as I cracked it open, hoping to lull my mind to sleep with the adventures of Robinson Crusoe. I allowed myself a moment to briefly reflect on Hawkeye and the events of the evening…
I had been talking to Nurse June Grady, who was having a difficult time adjusting to the life of an army nurse, when Hawkeye and Trapper had sat with us. I always warned people that wanted to speak to me outside of my tent that I couldn't guarantee what they said would be confidential because I couldn't prevent eavesdroppers, but June had simply needed someone to talk to about her struggles, not confess.
Trapper's question had caught me completely off-guard, and I wasn't entirely sure why he'd asked such a thing. Being that I had been in the middle of a conversation, I didn't answer him either way, though I felt wholly unsettled.
"Hawkeye tells us you're not as innocent as you let us all think."
I felt my blood run cold in my veins as my head whipped back around. I could practically see Hawkeye shrink next to me. I couldn't fathom that Hawkeye might have betrayed me. The nagging thought that I was still one big joke to them seeped back into my consciousness. I couldn't breathe. I wanted to yell at him, I wanted to scream, I wanted to punch his lights out. He tried to tell me that he hadn't told them anything, but how could I believe him when Trapper was suggesting just the opposite?
I don't know what was more devastating to me—the fact that Hawkeye might have sold me out, or the fact that as he and I yelled at one another, practically the whole camp was witness. I knew that whatever reputation I had built for myself here was shattered. The rumor mill would start and gossip would spread like wildfire and I couldn't bear to think of what tawdry affair they might paint for me. I couldn't even know for sure if anyone but Hawkeye knew about Danny. Either way, it didn't matter…they would all see me as a hypocrite, and maybe I was. Any moral influence I had on these people had just gone right out the window.
I left the mess tent and went straight to Henry Blake. I had been thinking of a transfer since I'd developed feelings for Hawkeye, and I was convinced that I had to get out of there. I couldn't stand the thought of being a laughing stock to the entire camp, moreover I was completely crushed to think that Hawkeye had so cruelly betrayed me.
Henry was in his office—surprisingly—and Radar had followed me in, but I kindly asked him to leave.
"What's up, Dago?" Henry asked as he worked on his fishing lures.
"Sir, I'd like to request a transfer to another MASH unit." If he noticed the quaver of my voice, he didn't say anything.
He did, however, look up at me in surprise. "A transfer? Why? I know we don't always show up to your services on Sundays, but—"
"It's a personal reason, Colonel." I interrupted him.
"Would you care to tell me what kind of personal reason?"
"No…but I'm sure that if you really want to know, Captain Pierce will be more than happy to tell you." I hadn't meant to say the last part out loud, but my anger and hurt were getting the better of me.
Henry sighed in quiet exasperation, "What did Hawkeye do this time?"
I didn't answer him, mostly because I didn't want to incriminate myself any further. Henry looked at me closely, laying aside his lure.
"You're really serious about this, aren't you?"
I nodded, though hesitantly.
"I'll see what I can do," he told me with a sigh.
I nodded again and left, returning to my tent. I paced for several minutes as I tried to think of worst-case scenarios. My brain was not functioning properly; the only thing I could focus on was the anger and hurt I felt, and the self doubt. Part of me had known that something like this would happen. There had been a reason I'd never told anyone about Danny, and this was why. If the truth had ever gotten out, it would ruin me. How could I go on being a priest knowing the things I had done were the worst kinds of sins? What if it continued to happen?
I was sick with grief and guilt over my sins, but moreover I was in agony because I still deeply cared for Hawkeye. Despite what he'd done to me, I still loved him, still desired him. That thought was more disconcerting than the idea that the entire camp knew about Danny. I felt like God was continually giving me warnings that what I was doing was wrong, but I still couldn't control myself. I couldn't change the way I felt for him. As a representative of God, I knew this was unacceptable. There was only one thing to do—resign.
I sat down and started writing my resignation to the military vicar's office. As I put down on paper the fact that I felt unable to continue to perform my duties, my mind started to clear a little and I knew I was overreacting. Yes, I did feel hypocritical; yes, I knew that I probably should resign, but I also knew God was still working through me. Each boy I prayed over that made it was a sure sign of His grace, and each soul that departed quickly was a sign of His mercy. These weren't my miracles, I was just his tool on Earth. If I was such a sinner, if I was damned, why would he continue to heal through me? Why would he continue to speak through me in the words of my sermon?
My thoughts were interrupted as Hawkeye barged his way into my tent, but I had no desire to see him or speak to him at that moment.
"Get out."
"No."
I was outraged when he actually had to gall to latch the door of my tent. Who did he think he was! I got up, intent on unlatching the door and bodily removing him from my tent, but he was quicker than me and soon had me in his grasp.
"Let me go."
"No." he said again, spinning us both around and pinning me against the door. I briefly considered head butting him, but it wasn't in my nature to fight back against someone so I resigned to hear whatever it was he had to say.
"What do you want?"
"For you to listen to me."
I didn't want to look at him while he spoke, but he grabbed my chin and forced me to meet his eyes.
"Listen to me!" he said roughly, fingers digging into my jaw.
"I don't need my eyes to hear you!" I snapped back.
I listened as he explained to me what happened and that he hadn't told them about Danny, somehow not quite believing that he could have said nothing and yet Trapper would still press me as hard as he had earlier that evening. I could tell he was angry over the entire situation, and even angry with me for not believing him, but it did little to stop the nagging doubts in my head.
Even if my anger had dissipated a little, I still had strong convictions that it was time to cut my ties. This had been too close a call for me. As much as I didn't want to lose Hawkeye, I was in way over my head now and I felt like I was going to drown.
"Maybe it's best if we stop seeing each other," I said, trying to sound rational, but only managing to incense him further.
When he accused me of running away, I winced. His words had struck very close to home. Maybe he was right, maybe I was running, but I had good reason. I had been trying to escape a borderline abusive situation where Danny was concerned. I was hurt that he would use that against me at a time like this and try to make me the bad guy. When he mentioned the fact that I requested a transfer, saying that I was trying to run from him, I wanted to laugh at his arrogance, even if it was partially true.
"You really are completely full of yourself, Hawkeye. I requested a transfer because the minute you put it into their heads that I have a less-than-wholesome past, I lost their respect as a moral authority. Do you think people will actually listen to me now?"
"What makes you think they did before?"
There was a venom in his words that chilled me to the bone. I couldn't believe this was the same man who had been so caring and kindhearted the last few days. Once again I found myself looking into Danny's eyes instead of Hawkeye's, and was saddened by how quickly he could turn on me.
"I was wrong about you, Hawkeye. You and Danny are very much alike. You both have to tear me down to build yourselves up."
I had to get out of there. I knew I was either going to scream or cry or throw up and I didn't want to do any of those in front of him. There were so few places to be alone in the camp, and since Hawkeye refused to leave my tent, I had to opt for somewhere else. I went to the latrine.
Though not an entirely pleasant place to try and take a few deep breaths, I knew I needed to calm down and pull myself together. I leaned against the plywood wall, simply feeling my heart beat slow as I ticked off the collateral damage of the day on my fingers. One—I'd requested a transfer. Two—Most of the camp knew I had past, but didn't know what that past entailed. Three—Hawkeye and I were over.
The last one hurt the most. I stood there feeling stunned by the whirlwind relationship we'd had—the angst slowly building up between us, the sparks of passion, the quiet intimacy, and now the bitterness and rage and anger. I sadly wondered if Hawkeye hated me. The thought stole the rest of my anger and simply left me with a deep sense of loss.
I left the latrine and slowly walked back to my tent, my head hanging low in defeat. I just wanted to curl up and die and have done with this misery and heartache. When I opened the door and found him still in my tent, I was just annoyed. I felt he was taunting me now, hording his power over me by taking over my space and my belongings. He'd even torn up my letter of resignation.
"I see you've decided to rifle through my belongings while I was gone…And destroy them…" I could hear the edge in my own voice. I was still on the verge of breaking down despite my attempt to calm myself moments before.
"What language is this, Dago?" He was acting as if nothing had happened which felt worse than him yelling at me. I couldn't understand how he could have gone from being so angry and belittling me to destroying my things in my absence, to this… I just wanted him gone at that point.
I snatched the journal from his hands. "A dead one, much like this conversation. Please leave."
He apologized then, but I wasn't ready to hear it. His intense emotional swing had completely drained me. He tried to explain his feelings, saying that he didn't want me to leave and that no one was ever going to find out about my past…or us. It infuriated me that he could say that so assuredly when he had no control over that aspect.
He begged me to forgive him, and I completely caved. Forgiveness, after all, was in my job description, and if I couldn't forgive a man I loved…who could I forgive? I made him promise never to be hurtful to me again, knowing next time I wouldn't be able to handle it. I tried not to think about how many times Danny had made similar promises that he had broken.
In my heart I truly believe that people are inherently good. It's the bad things in life that affect us and shape us and make us cold, angry, bitter, hateful, and evil. Hawkeye was a good person, and his intense reaction had me wondering if something had happened in his own past. I wondered if there had been a time when he'd been abandoned by someone he cared about. I wanted to know what had made him who he was today. Why was he such a non-believer in God, why had he chosen to be a doctor, why was he was who he was?
I suddenly realized I was still holding Robinson Caruso, and had been reading the same page over and over as my mind mulled over Hawkeye. I sighed and closed the book, getting up to put it back on the shelf as I turned out my light. I closed my eyes and focused on my breath, envisioning a ball of light in my core that grew brighter with every intake and dimmer with every exhalation. My mind quieted, Hawkeye receding to the background, and I slowly drifted off to sleep .
I felt like only minutes had passed when a hand stroked my cheek and set of lips gently brushed mine. I started slightly, but immediately recognized Hawkeye's smell and taste and touch, and I relaxed.
"Can I stay with you for a while?" He asked softly.
"What time is it?"
"About 2am." He replied, whispering for whatever reason.
I turned on my side and pulled the blankets back, offering to let him slip in next to me and he quickly shed his boots, trousers and t-shirt before he rolled into the cot and slid his arm under my shoulder, bringing my head in against his chest. He kissed the top of my head and squeezed me tightly.
"How was the game?" I asked sleepily.
"I cleaned up," he answered, no longer whispering, but talking quietly. "And I told the boys about 'Helen.'"
"Great." I deadpanned, still not thrilled with the entire situation. "Who all was there to witness that wonderful fabrication?"
"Trap, Duke, 'chuck, U.J., Painless—"
I groaned and cut him off, "Okay, okay, maybe I should have asked who wasn't there."
"A few nurses, Radar, Henry, and you." I could hear his grin. "You have the sympathy of everyone in the camp. I really played up the pity card and made her death pretty tragic."
I groaned. "Do I even want to know?"
"I told them that the two of you were on your way somewhere together and were hit head-on by a gang of bank robbers who had just pulled a heist. You lived, but she didn't. She died in your arms."
"Hawkeye, that's really awful."
"See, even you feel bad for you," he laughed softly. "Anyways, after that you went on a bit of a bender and just when you were on the brink of suicide, God spoke to you and gave you a new path—the priesthood."
"That is certainly quite the tale." I wasn't sure how I felt about all the embellishments he'd made, but realized that the whole thing was a complete lie and Helen wasn't a real person, so in essence, no one was truly harmed. I still felt guilty about lying, but I couldn't do anything about it now.
"I'm sorry about this whole mess, John." He said sincerely. "I should have known Duke and Trapper wouldn't be able to control themselves. They're worse than women sometimes."
"It's okay, I don't blame you, Hawkeye…well, not anymore, at least."
"Were you really going to resign because of this, Dago?" His voice was soft and full of genuine concern.
"I don't know," I answered truthfully. "There was so much going on in my head after that happened and it seemed like I should resign. I still wonder if maybe I should. I feel so…torn."
"Why do you think you should?"
"Because I'm a hypocrite, Hawkeye. I can't stand up there and preach about obeying God's commandments when I have broken them."
"Dago," he sighed, "What are the commandments?"
I wondered why he was asking, but I quickly listed them off, "Thou shalt have no other gods before me. Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image. Thou shalt not take the name of the LORD thy God in vain. Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy. Honor thy father and thy mother. Thou shalt not kill. Thou shalt not commit adultery. Thou shalt not steal. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor any thing that is thy neighbor's."
"And which ones have you broken?"
"Adultery, lying, coveting…"
"Well, you have coveted my ass, but I really don't think that last one applies as much."
I sighed in annoyance and sat up, looking down at him. "Hawkeye, there are no grey areas when it comes to the Word of God. The commandments are sacred, they are meant to remain unbroken. I can forgive those who sin and repent, but I'm not repentant! An unrepentant priest might as well be working for Satan. Can't you see the problem?"
"Look, John, I get that your religion means a lot to you, but don't you think if this was really wrong you might feel bad enough to not do it anymore?"
"It's not that simple."
"It is that simple, Dago." He argued, sitting up and leveling his eyes at me. "Have you ever killed anyone?"
"NO!" I nearly shouted.
"Why not?"
"Because it's—"
"Wrong." He said with me. "Have you ever stolen anything?"
"No." I said simply.
"Because it's wrong." He reiterated. "You don't use the Lord's name in vain, you don't worship other Gods, you don't do anything else he's told you not to do."
"Except engage in sexual acts with another man." I muttered.
"Look," he sighed and took my hand in his. "When I was a kid, I went to church and even Sunday school a few times. The biggest message that I got was that God loves us, no matter what we do. Isn't that why Jesus died on the cross?"
"He died for our sins," I nodded.
"Sins past, present, and future, right?"
"Yes."
"Well, if this is a sin, then you're already forgiven, right?"
"Hawkeye…" I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. Trying to argue the semantics of the Bible with him was like trying to get an ox to learn English. "You can't just take the good bits of the Bible and smash them all together to make yourself feel better."
"Okay, Dago, let's take the Bible out of this. How do you feel about the situation. Do you think it's wrong?"
Separating my private thoughts from Biblical law was next to impossible for me to do and it took me several minutes to compose a response, but Hawkeye waited patiently. "No…if I take the Bible out of this, I don't feel this is wrong…other than the fact that you're married."
"Why do you feel it isn't wrong?"
I looked in his eyes, butterflies erupting in my stomach. "Because…because I love you."
"Why does that make this okay?" he asked very softly.
"I don't know." I truly didn't.
Hawkeye gently pulled me to him, kissing me deeply. "We're never going to see eye to eye on God, baby; so maybe the best thing we can do is just not think about this as being wrong. Do you—without putting the words of your Bible into it—do you think you'll be forgiven if this is a sin?"
Again, I hesitated with my answer as I truly considered it. I'd already had similar thoughts not but a few days ago…and every day since…and my answer had never changed. "Yes…I have to believe that He would show me mercy if this is wrong."
"Stop being so hard on yourself. I get that you're supposed to live by a certain creed, certain rules, but just because you love me doesn't negate everything you say. I think if God really does exist, he'd probably be very glad that you respect his word so much, but he'd tell you to stop worrying about it. No one's perfect, baby, not even you."
Hawkeye had a point and I didn't argue with him any further as I mulled this all over in my mind. Taking my silence as consent, Hawkeye drew me into another kiss and gently eased me back down on the cot, placing himself on top of me. His tongue slid smoothly into my mouth and I gently sucked on it as my hands trailed down his back, pushing his boxers down over the slope of his backside as I continued to caress him. He moaned softly into my mouth. He tasted of beer and smelled of cigarettes, a combination not totally unappealing. He shifted slightly reaching back to push his boxers down further and my hand immediately went to his erection, stroking him gently. He broke from my lips and kissed along my jaw before he nuzzled my ear with his nose.
"I want you, Dago…" he breathed heavily.
I shivered. I knew what he meant. I brought my hand up around the back of his neck and raised my lips to his ear, boldly saying, "I'm yours."
He kissed me fiercely. "Don't move."
Hawkeye rolled over and reached for his pants, digging through the pocket until he found what he was looking for and held up a small jar between his fingers, his teeth flashing at me through the darkness as he grinned.
"What's that?"
"Lubrication," he told me, sitting up on his knees and moving between my legs before he grabbed the legs of my boxers and pulled them down. I didn't know what to say to that. Danny had never used any lubrication other than his spit. I was surprised that Hawkeye had had the forethought to bring it with him. "I'm not an expert at this, baby…I've done rectal exams, but I have a feeling this won't exactly be the same thing, so you'll have to tell me what I should be doing.
I laughed anxiously as the butterflies came alive in my stomach again. Hawkeye slid the rest of the way out of his own boxers and he looked at me somewhat uncertainly.
"I can turn over…if you want." I offered gently.
"No," he shook his head. "I want to be able to look at you when I fuck you."
I blushed at his choice of words, and the sentimentality behind them. I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. He pushed my knees up and apart as he opened the jar and lubricated two of his fingers. I could feel goosebumps erupting down the length of my body. He looked in my eyes as his fingers found their way to the penetration point, then slowly but steadily, he entered me. I gasped in both pleasure and pain. It had been so long since this had happened and my body tensed against the intrusion. Hawkeye leaned down on top of me, distracting me with his lips and tongue as he slowly loosened me up. His fingers were pulsing in and out, brushing against that part of me that produced the greatest pleasure and soon as I panting and moving against his hand.
"Ready?" He asked against my ear.
"Yeah," I breathed.
Hawkeye slowly withdrew his fingers, finding the jar of lubrication and spreading a small amount along his shaft and over the head before he wiped his hand on the hem of my t-shirt that I still had on.
"Hawkeye!" I chastised, somewhat disgusted. He laughed softly, but then pressed himself into me swiftly and we both groaned in satisfaction. I rocked up against him, but he put his hand on my hip to still me.
"Wait, wait, wait…" he said tensely, gritting his teeth. I ran my hands down his arms, feeling how tense he was and realized he was trying not to cum. "Oh…fuck, Dago…you feel so fucking good."
His swearing made me blush again, but I couldn't help but smile. He finally gave a tentative thrust and I groaned along with him again. When he finally was able to move more easily, he found a gentle rhythm and I moved against him, eager to meet each thrust. I closed my eyes, biting my lip against the noises I wanted to make, knowing that I definitely couldn't control my volume.
"Am I hurting you?" Hawkeye asked gently as brushed his thumb across my mouth, trying to get me to release my lip.
"Oh, fuck no…" The words tumbled from my mouth before I even registered what I'd said.
My swear surprised us both and he laughed softly as I turned a deep shade of crimson, stuttering an apology. "You really think you have to apologize to me for that? I'll take your 'fuck' as a huge compliment."
"I'm not in the habit of swearing," I told him sheepishly.
"I noticed," he chortled, leaning down to kiss me. "Should I be doing anything for you?"
"No," I breathed, enjoying his thrusts. "Trust me…I can finish just like this."
"What's it feel like?" he asked, looking into my eyes as he thrust a little deeper into me.
I groaned, my eyes closing in response to the pleasure, "Amazing…"
"Was it like this with Danny?"
I was sincerely surprised that he was asking me that particular question at a time like this, but I shook my head. "It felt good with Danny, but like I said, he was very aggressive and rough so I typically had to ignore the pain and focus on the pleasure. With you, I don't feel any pain."
"Good," he murmured, dropping his lips to my neck. "God I wish I could last forever, Dago…you don't know how good this feels. You're so tight on my cock."
"You feel good too, Hawkeye." I wrapped my arms around him, holding him to me tightly.
"Say my name," he whispered against my collarbone.
I closed my eyes and smiled, "Ben…"
"How close are you?"
"I'm not sure…?" I didn't know how to gauge the progress of an orgasm, I just knew it felt good up until it peaked into incredible. "Go harder and deeper…that'll get me there quickly."
"When I cum, where should I…" he left the sentence hanging, but the meaning was understood.
I dragged his lips to mine, giving him a long, slow kiss before I answered. "Inside of me."
I felt him tremble slightly before he reclaimed my lips more passionately and his thrusts became harder, faster, deeper. I moaned into his mouth repeatedly until I had to pull back for air, then buried my face against his shoulder trying to muffle my enjoyment there. He was breathing heavily, panting against my neck. I could feel the sweat from his exertion as it rolled down his face and against my skin.
"John…" he groaned, his body taut. "Oh, fuck, I'm so close."
"Ben," I whispered against him, emboldened by his intense pleasure. "I want to feel you cum…"
He gave several great thrusts before he cried out, silencing himself against my mouth, his body growing rigid. I could feel his cock pumping inside of me as he came and I moved against him, letting it carry me to my own peak. My cock was pressed between our bodies; I could feel my release jet against his stomach and soak the bottom of my t-shirt, covering both of us in the sticky secretion. Hawkeye didn't seem to notice or care, but he was trembling slightly as he came off his high, laying over me heavily for a long minute before he was able to withdraw himself and attempt to lay next to me. He half laid on me as we lay on our backs.
"Wow…" he breathed. "I definitely need a cigarette now."
I laughed softly, turning my head to look at him. He looked over at me and grinned, then sat up, reaching for his pants, but noticing for the first time the mess I had made against him. "Ack…give me your shirt since it's already soiled enough."
I blushed but pulled my shirt off over my head, wiping up the wetness that had seeped onto my own stomach, then passed it in a wad to him. He wiped his stomach and groin, then tossed my shirt on the ground before he leaned over and found his pants again, digging around in the pockets. He pulled out a slightly crushed cigarette and a lighter.
"You don't mind, do you, babe?" He asked, looking back at me with the cigarette between his lips. I shook my head softly as I watched him, my hand finding his little jar of lube. I picked it up and held it out to him. "Thanks."
He dropped it on top of his clothes, then laid back on the cot, holding his arm out so that I would lay against his shoulder again. I watched him smoke as he stared up at the canvas roof over our heads, his fingers in my hair.
"I could get used to this," he murmured. "Being with you."
I pressed a kiss to his shoulder, not sure what to say in response. He seemed like he wanted to say more, but he simply sighed and took another drag on his cigarette. My eyes were growing heavy and I yawned, drawing nearer to him for warmth and comfort as I closed my eyes and let sleep gently come over me.
I woke the next morning to a jeep horn as someone drove through the camp. I was only mildly surprised to find myself alone in my cot and took a moment to reflect on everything before I sat up and reached for my bathrobe. First thing was first…I needed a shower.
Breakfast was a strange affair as more people than usual bade me good morning and even seemed to go out of their way to either hold the door for me, or offer to let me go ahead of them in the chow line, and even pour me a cup of coffee before I had a chance to get there. I realized quickly that this was all due to the lie that Hawkeye had told about my past. This was sympathy—or pity—on their behalves. I wasn't comfortable knowing that they were being kind out of a lie, and couldn't help but wonder how they might treat me if they knew the truth.
The four musketeers swooped in half-way through breakfast, plopping down around me, with Hawkeye right next to me, of course. I'd had my breviary in one hand while I ate with the other, and Hawkeye reached across me and snagged it out of my hand, looking at it.
"These don't look like Bible verses," he noted.
Trapper took it from him next and Duke and Spearchucker looked at it over his shoulder as he exclaimed, "It ain't even in English!"
"It's not a Bible," I told them with a chuckle. "It's a breviary. A book of prayers, hymns, Psalms, readings and rites for everyday use. And no, it's not in English…it's in Latin."
Trapper passed it back to me and I put it in my pocket, knowing I wouldn't be able to read with Hawkeye next to me.
"Why do you read that every morning?" He asked.
"It's kind of a ritual, I guess," I shrugged and sipped my coffee. "Before you guys started sitting with me, breakfast was my quiet time for my devotionals."
Hawkeye was smiling at me, his leg brushing against mine under the table.
"Hey, Dago, if you're not doing anything today, you should come with us to the river." Duke suggested. "If we don't get any wounded between now and then, that is."
"Sure," I smiled, eager to spend time with Hawkeye outdoors. "I've got to work on Sunday's sermon, but I can probably spare a few hours."
"What am I going to be missing this week?" Hawkeye teased.
"I'm not sure yet." I admitted sheepishly.
"I thought all Catholic services were the same thing each week," Duke commented. "A bunch of mournful singing, a bunch of Latin, a bunch of guilt, and everyone goes home."
"You must be thinking of my 11 o'clock service," I mused, somehow finding it easier to banter with Duke now that I'd gotten to know him a little more. I could see Hawkeye raise his eyebrows at me out of the corner of my eye, obviously surprised and amused by my comment. "But no, there's an actual message in between the mournful singing and the guilt."
The four of them all laughed.
"Hey, Dago, did you ever play any sports?" Spearchucker asked.
"I ran track in senior high," I answered, curiously. "Why?"
"We're going to be making a tag football team soon, I didn't know if you'd be interested in playing."
"Oh, no…you'd definitely lose with me on your team; I can't catch a ball to save my life."
Hawkeye chortled beside me, muttering into his coffee cup under his breath, "Something tells me you can catch a ball better than you think."
I could feel myself blushing to my hairline and nudged him with my knee under the table as Spearchucker continued, "I'll bring my football down to the river and teach you a few passes."
Trapper started telling me about last night's poker game and how he'd lost to Hawkeye three straight games in a row to a lucky ace. He was convinced Hawkeye had been cheating. I was having trouble concentrating on what Trapper was saying as Hawkeye's leg was still moving against mine in a slow rhythm, reminding me of our encounter the previous night. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach and I discretely put my hand on his thigh for a moment.
No one mentioned Helen or her tragic death, and for that I was grateful, but Hawkeye seemed to have been right. People seemed to be relating to me more now…or at least seeing me as human and not afraid to say hello. I listened to the Swamp men talking about this or that, trying to find an excuse to leave and write my sermon, but not wanting to offend any of my new friends with my departure. Hawkeye was the one who gave me an out.
"I have to get to post-op," he said, finishing his coffee. "Duty calls."
"I should get back to my tent and start working on my sermon." I stood with Hawkeye. "See ya, fellas."
"We'll swing by later and get you, Red." Trapper said as the others bade us goodbye. Hawkeye shouldered the door open, his hands in his pockets, and held it for me.
"Thanks," I said softly, passing through the door and intentionally brushing my hand down his arm.
"Sleep okay?" He asked as we both strolled in the same direction.
"I did,"I answered softly, bowing my head a little to hide my blush. "What time did you leave?"
"A little while after you fell asleep," he smirked. "I wanted to stay all night."
"You could have." I offered quietly.
"That would have drawn attention," he noted with a grin, then deftly changed the subject. "I got a little more of your journal read last night. I'm trying to get an entry a day."
"And?"
"How long were you in Tibet?"
"Seven years."
"Seven years?" he stopped and looked at me curiously. "Dago, how old are you?"
I blushed furiously under his inspection. "How old do I look?"
"Same age as me, 36."
I laughed. "Thanks, but you're about 5 years off. I'm 41."
His mouth fell open in total shock. "You're serious?"
I nodded. He let out a low whistle.
"I would never have guessed you were that much older than me." He seemed to be trying to piece together the story of my life so that it added up to me being in Korea and I laughed at the confused look on his face.
"Keep reading the journal," I encouraged, clapping him on the shoulder as I veered for my tent and he kept on walking to post-op.
Finding the topic for my sermon this week wasn't hard. I knew I should focus on the 10 Commandments, but decided to take a different approach to the usual lecture on upholding these sacred covenants without exception. I was in a place where most of my flock—and even I, their Sheppard—had broken at least one of the Commandments. Rather than focusing on the whole lot of us going to Hell, I decided to talk about the mercy of Jesus Christ and maybe provide hope to my fellow sinners that we were not all destined for Hell…or Purgatory…or any place in between.
The sermon had very nearly written itself by the time Shave and a Haircut was tapped out on my door by two different sets of hands. I put away my notes as I beckoned the callers inside. Trapper and Duke stepped in wearing shorts and top-siders and nothing else. They took one look at me, still in full fatigues and both sighed in unison.
"Dago, Dago, Dago," Trapper shook his head. "How do you expect to get some sun if you're dressed like that? Don't you own any shorts?"
"Y-Yeah, sure, of course." I stuttered.
"Well, hurry up and put 'em on!" Duke said snapping his fingers at me.
I dug through my footlocker for my army-issued short pants and a plain grey t-shirt. Trapper laid down on my cot cracking open a beer that he'd been holding. I tried not to blush as I thought of all the things Hawkeye and I had done in that cot, and quickly changed clothes. Duke was looking at my collection of books and around my tent.
"You've got it made over here, Dago Red-o." He said casually. "No one sharin' your space or waking you up at night with their snoring."
I chuckled as he cast a look at Trapper who was getting off my cot as I found my own pair of top-siders to wear. "I have a condition," Trapper countered.
"Yeah…it's called 'obnoxious.' C'mon, let's go." Duke replied, tossing a beer at me. I barely caught it as I followed them out of my tent, quietly wondering where Hawkeye was and hoping he'd be along soon.
Spearchucker, Painless and a couple of other guys that I only vaguely knew were already down by the river when we arrived in various states of relaxation. I sat down on the bank, watching Spearchucker and another young boy tossing a football across the river at each other.
"Go long, Gorman!" Spearchucker called, pulling back his arm and launching the ball. I watched it make a perfect spiral and sail right over Gorman's head. "I said go long!"
Gorman mumbled something that I didn't catch as my Hawkeye-senses began to tingle.
"Toss it here, babe!" I heard him call from a few feet behind me. I turned and shaded my eyes, watching Hawkeye stick his cigarette between his lips and hold out his hands to expertly catch the ball before he threw it back to Spearchucker.
"Hey Hawkeye," came a chorus of greetings from the others. Hawkeye ruffled my hair, winking down at me before he greeted the others and asked Trapper for a beer.
"How's our kid doin', Hawk?" Duke asked from where he was sunning himself in a chair.
"He's good, real good. Pulse is strong, BP is good, temp's ok. I think he's going to make it." Hawkeye pulled a lounging chair over towards me and sat down, peeling off his shirt as he sat back with his beer, saluting me with it. "He owes his life to you, Dago."
"Hardly," I countered, stretching my legs out and leaning back on my palms.
"Geeze, babe, do you ever get out in the sun? You're legs are white as snow."
I laughed softly but shook my head. "I'm Irish; when I get out in the sun I just burn, peel, and freckle."
The others around us laughed.
"I'm with you in that boat, Dago," Painless said. "I'm not Irish, but all I ever do is burn. I don't tan like these lucky bastards."
"What can we say, Painless…some guys got it, and some guys don't." Trapper said, not bothering to open his eyes from where he was lounging.
I was suddenly struck by an image of all of them as sun-bathing lizards and the thought made me snort with laughter.
"What's funny?" Hawkeye asked with a sideways grin.
"Just a thought I had," I answered, still amused by the mental image. "You guys are like a bunch of lounging lizards trying to sun yourselves."
"Lounge lizards," Painless chortled, overhearing me. "I like that. Catchier than 'Swamp Rats,' at least."
"Hey, Red," Spearchucker called. I looked over and he motioned me with his head. "Come on, I'll teach you some passes."
I stood and brushed myself off, handing my unopened beer to Hawkeye.
"Go easy on him, 'Chuck," Hawkeye called. "If he gets hurt, you have to answer to God."
I cast a reproving look at Hawkeye over my shoulder but he just smirked before turning to talk with the other guys.
I knew the very basics of football, but Spearchucker wasn't taking any chances. He taught me how to grip the ball and how to bring it towards my body when catching in order to protect it from being fumbled or knocked out of my hands. He showed me his mechanics for throwing and how to put the perfect spiral motion on the ball, then he was ready for a few practice throws. We stood about 15 feet apart and started out just simply tossing the ball back and forth as he let me get used to throwing and catching it, offering tips and pointers as he noticed me doing something wrong.
"Go to the other side of the river," he said as I threw the ball back to him. "We'll do some real passes now."
I wasn't thrilled about wading through the waist-high pool of water, but figured since Bandini was floating like an otter on his back in the middle of the river, it probably wasn't filled with snakes or other deadly creatures, so I crossed, if but a little tentatively. My shoes squished unpleasantly on the opposite bank but I wasn't about to take them off and slice my foot open on a rock.
When I was ready, Spearchucker launched the ball at me and, even though I caught it, the force of it was greater than I anticipated and it nearly knocked the wind out of me. So much for going easy on me. I could hear him laughing on the other side of the river.
"Sorry, Dago!" He called waving for me to throw it back. I pulled back, aware that all the others were watching me closely and threw the ball. It sailed high and Spearchucker had to jump to catch it. The others chuckled. I saw Hawkeye take a swig of his beer before he set it down and got up, moving down the bank towards Spearchucker. I almost forgot to pay attention to Spearchucker as he threw the ball back to me, but I managed to catch it and throw it back.
Hawkeye intercepted the catch and rolled it over to Spearchucker as he said something, then he started crossing the river towards me, diving into the water with hat and glasses still on and coming back up dripping wet. He took off his glasses and used a dry part of my shirt to wipe them off before he turned to face Spearchucker, holding out his hands to show he was ready for a pass. Spearchucker launched a missile at Hawkeye, who effortlessly caught the ball.
"Here, let me show you my technique," he told me as he put the ball in my hands and arranged my fingers over the laces. "You have nice hands, you know that?"
"Who? Me?" I was surprised by the soft comment.
"Well, I'm not talking to myself, am I?" He smirked, glancing up at me. "Yeah, you. I think your hands are one of my favorite things about you. Long, slender fingers…nice bone structure…soft and warm. They're nice."
"Oh," I knew I was turning crimson again. "Thank you. I like your hands, too."
He turned me so that my back was to him, then reached around and pulled my arm back so that the ball was just passed my ear. "Always follow through. Your fingers should be pointing to where you want the ball to go after you release."
He took me through the motions a few times, telling me at what point I should release, then he stepped back.
"Let's see what you've got, babe." He smirked. I felt his eyes on me as I pulled back and threw, this time a little more on target than my previous attempts. There were cheers and whistles from the other guys and Hawkeye clapped behind me. "See, forget everything he taught you and just listen to me."
I laughed slightly and almost missed the ball as it sailed back to me, hitting me in the stomach. Hawkeye roared with laughter and I turned around, trying to peg him with the ball in playful retribution. Even in the middle of his laughter he caught it without much effort but raised his eyebrows at me.
"Oh…you wanna play, do you?" He said with a smirk as he launched the ball at Spearchucker. I could see the wicked look in his eyes and I started backing up away from him.
"Hawkeye," I warned, holding out my hand to stay him.
"Get him, Hawkeye!" Trapper yelled, obviously watching the exchange.
I backed ankle deep into the river just as Hawkeye ran at me, grabbing me around the waist, spinning us both around and towards the middle of the river.
"Hawkeye!" I shrieked as we tipped over and both went under sideways. We surfaced and he was laughing, splashing water at me as I tried to wipe the water off my face before opening my eyes. Every time I opened my eyes, he would flick more water at me. "Hawkeye!" I laughed, though exasperated.
Trapper waded into the water near us, bringing Hawkeye's beer and they both squatted low in the water up to their necks. "You'll never win against him, Dago. Trust me."
"Many have tried," Hawkeye said, looking at me.
"All have failed." Trapper finished. "He's like a mongoose. You'd never expect Hawkeye to be quick or strong."
"Well, looks can be deceiving." Hawkeye grinned, winking at me. I smiled at him softly and he splashed water in my face again.
"Attention: All personnel…"
"Ah, come on!" Trapper yelled towards the loudspeaker as everyone else groaned and began gathering their things and hurrying back towards the camp.
"I think the North Koreans know just when we're all having a good time," Hawkeye said as he, Trapper and I trudged out of the river, dripping wet. "It's times like these when they send us our wounded."
"Never fails," Trapper agreed.
I hadn't brought a towel with me, underestimating how much I might need it. Hawkeye quickly toweled off his face and upper body before he tossed his towel at me and put his shirt back on. I rubbed it through my wet hair, knowing the rest of me was a lost cause, as my shirt, shorts, undershorts and shoes were drenched. We jogged back to camp and I veered off to my tent to hurriedly change my clothes and gather my trade tools, then went back out to help with the wounded.
The doctors were still all assessing the wounded, and Trapper waved me over to him.
"Give this one the final farewell, Dago; he's gone." He clapped me on the back as I knelt down next to the fallen boy and he moved on to another patient.
It was so strange to me how differently I was being treated now that I was considered one of Hawkeye's friends. No one had ever been exceptionally rude to me before, but now they all laughed and joked and bantered with me like they did with each other. I'd been accepted into their fold. Strangely enough, I felt a little uncomfortable by that revelation. I felt hat Hawkeye and I were essentially lying to them about the context of our relationship. We'd already lied about my past, and while we never appeared to more than just friends in public, it still felt wrong. I didn't like to mislead people.
I heard someone shouting in Korean and raised voices and looked over to see one of the nurses struggling with a wounded North Korean soldier who had come in with our boys. The expression on his face could only be described as hatred, and I noticed he had one hand in a pocket on his trousers as he shouted angrily in Korean. I stopped what I was doing and rushed over, somehow knowing what was about to happen. The boy extracted a dangerous looking combat knife that looked similar to a KA-BAR used by the marines, but with a much shorter blade. He slashed up at the nurse, who screamed, but managed to dodge the blade. I pushed her out of the way roughly, pinning the Korean down by his shoulders as he started to get up.
"DAGO!" Hawkeye and Duke yelled as I struggled with the armed enemy, who was still brandishing his knife at me. They were running to my aid when he managed to re-grip his knife and stab it into my side with some force. I fell back in pain, clutching at my side as Duke punched the guy and knocked the knife away from his hand. Hawkeye was at my side, pulling at my clothes and telling me to lie still. The wound hurt, but I didn't feel as though I was going to die from it.
"I'm fine," I told him through gritted teeth, trying to sit up. "See to the wounded."
"You're wounded, Dago, now hold still!" He told, pushing me back on the ground as he gently prodded the wound to assess the damage. "Damn...it's deep. I'm going to have to go in."
I groaned at the thought of surgery. Hawkeye was pressing a bandage to my side and calling over a stretcher. "I can walk." I argued.
"Like hell you are; Henry, I'm taking Dago first." He said before looking at me. "It'll be okay. I promise."
I sighed but nodded, seeing the worry on his face. He surprised me when he leaned in and quickly pressed his lips to my forehead before he ran off to scrub up. The others moved about more quickly with Hawkeye out of the assessment pool and two of the corpsmen ran over with a stretcher. I sighed again, feeling like a burden, but moved onto it and let them carry me into pre-op, where one of the nurses helped me out of my shoes, socks, jacket, shirt and trousers, leaving me in my boxer shorts. She covered me with a sheet, and I was promptly taken into the OR.
Ugly John was already waiting for me. "Good afternoon, I'll be your gas passer today."
My side was starting to twinge a little more as the adrenaline began to wear off and I started to wonder just how bad the wound was. Was Hawkeye taking me first because of our intimate relationship, or because I was seriously injured? I didn't want to think about that. I couldn't even manage to offer Ugly John an appreciative laugh at his greeting. He seemed to note my worry, and the look of pain on my face because he softened his tone a little.
"Don't worry, Red; Hawkeye will have you fixed up in no time. Ever been put under before?"
"No…" I managed shakily, my teeth starting to chatter from nerves.
"It's easier than falling asleep."
I felt a hand on my shoulder as Ugly John got ready to put me under and I looked up at Hawkeye. He hadn't pulled his mask up yet. I could tell he was trying to smile, but there were worry lines on his face.
Neither of us spoke, but there was such intensity in his expression that I knew he was trying to convey how much he cared for me. I reached up and put my hand over his on my shoulder, reassuring him that I knew I was in good hands. He nodded to Ugly John, who put the mask over my face and I stared up at Hawkeye, gripping his hand tightly until the world faded to black.

TBC
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Infatuation