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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
- 4
- 5
- 6
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 Hawkeye's POV. Please ignore any typos. I don't always catch them all. Thanks for reading. This chapter seems a bit meh to me, but I hope you all enjoy it all the same.

I felt Dago's grip growing more and more slack as the anesthesia took hold. U.J. gave me a nod when Dago was completely under and I was surprised when Hotlips stepped up to assist me. I tried not to think about who was on my table, or what had happened, but my heart felt like it was beating in my throat.
"Okay," I said, remembering that I was the surgeon. "Help me turn him on his side, keep his arm up over his head a bit."
We got Dago on his side and I put my mask on before taking the bandage off his side. It was stained with dark blood and I knew that wasn't a good sign. "Scalpel…"
"Scalpel," Hotlips parroted, snapping it into my hand.
As I began to cut, working on autopilot, my mind began to replay scenes from last night. Being with him had been an incredible experience, even if he still seemed to be on the fence about what we were doing. Part of me wished he wasn't a priest so he would stop fretting so much about whether or not he was going to hell, but I knew that his occupation was a twisted part of my attraction to him, even if it was the biggest source of conflict between us.
Last night, as we laid there together in post-coital bliss with Dago falling asleep on my shoulder, I finally admitted to myself that I did love him. Maybe it wasn't the 'oh, baby I'm leaving my wife for you' kind of love, but the feelings were still very strong. Strong enough that I was seriously starting to question my sexuality. I still wasn't ready to think of myself in homosexual terms, or even bisexual ones. Was try-sexual an option? I'd try anything once, and maybe again just be sure if I really enjoyed it the first time or not.
I knew that Dago loved me, too. He'd almost said it a few nights ago before he'd stopped himself, but last night he had said that was the reason why he felt what we were doing wasn't wrong. I guess, to him, love really did conquer all and made everything okay. As long as it got him to stop talking about sinning and start sucking my cock, I didn't care what he thought.
I felt a little daunted know that our feelings were mutual. Where did we go from here? What difference did it make if we did love each other? He was still a priest, I was still married, and a life together beyond this war was just improbable. I ultimately decided not to think about it all together. If the war was all we had, then so be it. We would deal with goodbyes when it came time. For now, I just wanted to have fun whenever I could and fuck his brains out. Love or not, I enjoyed being with Dago and I had no intentions of giving that up anytime soon.
"Suction."
"Suction," Hotlips parroted again as I continued to work.
That afternoon at the river seemed like a lifetime ago now, but it had been one of the best times I'd had in Korea. Seeing him in his shorts and t-shirt, sitting on the bank of the river with Trapper and the other guys had been an endearing sight. He'd looked so relaxed out there and—If I'm completely honest—he looked good in casual clothes. Hell, he looked good in anything really…and nothing. Maybe it was just the fact that for once I wasn't reminded that we were in the army, or in Korea, or that he was a priest.
I could see Dago starting to become a little more confident around me and the guys. He was still shy and a little reserved, but he seemed more comfortable around us and had even made a joke when Duke had poked fun at Catholic services. I could also tell that my bad habits were starting to rub off on him, smirking as I remembered his use of the word 'fuck' promptly followed by his mortification. Maybe swearing really didn't fit his personality, but I had sure gotten a kick out of hearing it.
"Sponge," I said, still carefully working on Dago. The knife had lacerated part of his large intestine, but the damage didn't seem to extend beyond that. Thank whatever God Dago believed in for inferior hand weapons and the layers of clothes he had changed into…and Dago's sheer dumb luck. An inch in any direction and he might not have been so lucky.
I stitched the lacerated organ, double checking to make sure I hadn't missed the tiniest nick, then began to stitch the wound closed. Though I was giving him my best needle work, I knew it would leave a scar, and take some time heal up, though it wasn't a wound he would get discharged on. A medal of valor and bravery, maybe, but he'd be stuck here with me for the foreseeable future.
I sighed in relief as I finished working on him and I called for the corpsmen. We carefully rolled him onto his back as we transferred him onto the stretcher and I watched them take him to post-op, my heart finally settling back down in my chest. I heard Ugly John mirror my sigh and we exchanged a look.
"He's one lucky son of a bitch." U.J. said.
"You're telling me."
The rest of our causalities-in-waiting weren't too severe and the numbers were nowhere near as staggering as they had been the last few days. Three hours total and we were wrapping up. I wasn't about to complain. I hurriedly scrubbed up, along with Trapper and Duke and the three of us went to post-op to check on our chaplain.
Dago was still out cold, but his wound had been dressed and he'd been given a set of hospital pajamas to wear. I sat next to him on the cot as Trapper and Duke looked on.
"He saved my life," a soft voice said from behind us and I turned around to see Becky looking teary eyed. "He must have seen the guy pull out that knife and he pushed me out of the way."
I still couldn't wrap my mind around just how brave and selfless Dago could be. He'd reacted without a second thought, and even after being stabbed he'd insisted on us tending to the other wounded first. As if I was about to let him sit there and possibly bleed to death internally… I'd never been more frightened in my entire life as I saw the blade go into him, knowing that it could have gone into his liver, or kidney, or an artery. I remember feeling like everything was happening in slow motion as we yelled at him in warning, already running towards him and the North Korean kid. We were sheer seconds too late, and I'd quietly hoped that Duke had broken the kid's jaw when he'd socked him.
"You the one on duty right now?" I asked Becky.
She nodded without speaking.
"Come get me the minute he wakes up, okay?"
She nodded again.
Trapper, Duke and I wandered back to the swamp and immediately went for the still. How quickly our day of fun had come to a screeching halt. None of us felt like laughing as we sat there drinking, each of us considering that he could have died today. We see death each and every day, and while it's never easy, it's a whole new ballgame when it's one of your own…when it's someone you love. If either of the guys saw my hands shaking as I held my martini, they didn't comment.
"How bad was it?" Duke finally asked.
"Sliced into his intestines, but missed anything major." I held my fingers up an inch apart. "Came this close to his liver."
"Dumb kid," Trapper shook his head. "Here we are trying to save his life and he's got to try and take out a couple of us in the process."
"At least he didn't succeed." I told them dryly.
"I'll drink to that," Trapper said. We all did.
Several of the guys we'd spent the afternoon with wandered into the Swamp asking about Dago, all deciding to hang with us in our gloom as we worked on emptying the still. A couple of hours must have passed since we'd left the OR and, finally, Boone ran in.
"Hawkeye," he panted. "Dago's awake."
It was like a stampede as we all tried to get out the door at the same time, heading towards post-op like a mob, with me as their leader. I swallowed hard and hurried through the door, seeing Becky sitting next to Dago. They both looked over at us and I wanted to run to him, but I didn't.
Becky moved off the bed and I took her place, putting my hand on his shoulder, simply needing to touch him and know he was alright, even though I knew he'd be fine.
"How are you feeling?" I asked gently as the others all gathered around the bed. Dago looked wearily up at the concerned faces standing over him, obviously still somewhat out of it. I looked over my shoulder at the mob. "Come on, you guys, give him a little room."
Slowly they dispersed until it was just me, Trapper and Duke and I repeated my question.
"My head hurts quite a bit." He finally said.
"Probably just a reaction to the anesthesia." I told him, 95% confident in my assessment. I put my hand on his forehead to feel for fever, just in case, but he felt cool. "Usually makes people either nauseous or gives them a headache. Funny thing about hospitals, we make you sicker than you were when you came in."
He chuckled and immediately groaned, making a pained face, "Ohh…don't make me laugh, Hawkeye."
"Sorry," I couldn't help but smirk before I looked back at Becky. "Give him a dose of Paracetamol."
"What will that do?" He asked as I turned back to look at him.
"Hopefully knock that headache out," I said as I gently began to pull his pajama top up so I could look at him. "I promise I won't poke around too much because I know it hurts, but I just want to make sure there aren't any signs of infection, okay?"
He nodded and I saw him hold his breath as I carefully removed the dressing taped against his side. The wound was still seeping a little blood and clear fluid, but that was normal. I gingerly felt the skin around the stitches and he winced.
"I know, I'm sorry, baby…" I didn't see any preliminary signs of infection or cause for concern so I took my hand away and he released the breath he was holding. Duke brought me some fresh gauze and tape and I quickly redressed the wound before I pulled his shirt back in place and pulled the sheet up to his chest. "See? All done."
"How long do I have to stay here?"
"Just for tonight, for observation. As long as everything's okay, I'll let you go back to your tent in the morning."
"The Korean boy…is he okay?"
I don't know why I was shocked that he'd be asking about his attacker. Selfless Dago strikes again.
"He's fine," Duke answered, having been the one who operated on him. "Superficial wounds mostly. Once I'd finished with him and made sure there weren't no more weapons hiding on him, we shipped him out of here."
"You know he could have killed you, right Dago?" Trapper's voice had suddenly turned very grave.
"It was either me or Nurse Hartwell," Dago replied looking up at him seriously. Hartwell…was that Becky's last name? Why didn't I know that?
"Do me a favor, babe," I cut in. "Next time someone's got a knife, try not to let them stab you."
He gave me a very tired, unamused look and I knew he was in a lot of pain. I found his hand and squeezed it gently, wishing we could have a few minutes alone. He weakly squeezed my hand back, trying to take a deep breath. I saw it catch as the pain in his side flared up, making him wince.
"Get some rest, Dago." I murmured as Becky came back with syringe of Paracetamol. "We'll come back and check on you later."
He nodded and I moved back so that Becky could give him the injection. I watched her unbutton the top button of his pajama top and slide it over just enough so that she could inject him on the uppermost part of his arm near his shoulder. He closed his eyes as the needle went in, brows furrowing ever so slightly, then looked at me as she finished with the injection.
"Thank you, Hawkeye."
I knew he was thanking me for saving his life, and it felt completely unnecessary. "No need to thank me, Dago. Just rest up, okay?
He nodded and closed his eyes, and the three of us left, heading for the mess tent to pick through dinner.
"Now we really gotta do something nice for Dago," Duke said, poking at what appeared to be a poor imitation of meatloaf. "He keeps saving our butts, and this time it nearly cost him his."
Oh, Duke…please don't mention Dago's butt right now. Even though I knew Dago could have been fatally wounded, the mention of his ass brought to mind those delicious images of last night when I'd been inside of him, and my cock jerked in response. Down, boy…
"Maybe we should give Sunday's services for him," Trapper offered.
Duke was nodding vigorously and stabbing his fork at Trapper. "Yeah, yeah, yeah! We could write up a sermon and do the songs and everything."
"As much as he appreciated Painless' Last Supper," I said, sarcastically. "Something tells me he wouldn't appreciate us ruining mass as well."
"Who said anything about 'ruining' mass?" Duke asked, looking over at me. "We'd be doing him a favor."
Somehow I doubted that, but it was obvious I had been overruled in the matter, so I let it go and let them plan out their little church service. Halfway through their planning I made an excuse to leave and went to take a shower. I leaned against the shower wall, letting the water run over me. I couldn't stop seeing images of Dago being shivved in the side by that kid. I thought about what might have happened if the guy had aimed for anywhere other than in his side. He could have stabbed Dago in the chest through his heart, or slit his throat, or just about anywhere else that could very well have instantly killed him.
I really didn't want to think about those alternative scenarios. Up until now this war had been just a giant inconvenience in my life. I was drafted to come over here and patch up our boys so that they could be shipped right back to the front of the war just to get blown apart some more. I knew there was fighting and danger here, but I was somewhat removed from it. I considered the 4077th a safe zone. Nothing could happen here, right? Wrong… That damn kid had brought the war right to our front door, making it abundantly clear that no one was safe.
After I'd gotten cleaned up, I headed over to post-op to check on Dago again. He was sleeping so I quietly looked at his chart to see if anything had come up in the last hour or so, but there was nothing written down.
I whistled softly at the gorgeous nurse who had taken over for Becky, "Hey, Knocko, how's he doin'?"
"Dago?" She asked coming over. "He's been asleep since I came on duty about half an hour ago. Why? Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know he had a headache earlier but if he hasn't woken back up that's good."
"You know, you should really go talk to Becky, Hawkeye." Knocko told me seriously. "She's really upset about what happened."
"We all are, honey."
"Yeah, but she almost got stabbed, too…would have if Dago hadn't been there."
"I know. I'll go check on her in a bit. Is it okay if I sit with him for a few minutes?"
"Sure, I don't care. I've got to make rounds in a minute anyways."
I nodded and she left to go draw syringes and whatever else she needed to do for her bed checks, then I sat down on the edge of the cot, looking down at Dago. I gently took his hand in mine and he stirred, blinking his eyes open at me.
"Hey baby, I didn't mean to wake you up."
"No, it's okay." He said sleepily, trying to shift positions, but wincing in pain. I put my hand on his shoulder.
"Don't go rolling around too much or you might tear the stitches. I'm pretty sure you don't want a repeat of the OR experience."
"No, you're absolutely right about that." He was completely serious, but I still had to laugh.
"How are you feeling right now?"
"Just really sore. I want to say it feels like I've been kicked in the ribs by a horse, but 'I've been stabbed' is much more accurate."
I laughed again. I knew he wasn't trying to be intentionally funny, but I still found it humorous. "And the headache?"
"Gone. Thank you."
"Good. I'm glad it didn't make you sick to your stomach. Throwing up at a time like this would be really unlucky."
He nodded, a look of horror on his face at the sheer thought of vomiting after being stabbed in the side.
"I think I should warn you that Trapper and Duke are planning to do your Sunday services in your place. They're working up a sermon as we speak."
"Oh…oh dear…"
"I tried to talk them out of it, but they think they're doing you a favor."
"No offense, Hawkeye, but the 'favors' you boys have done for me have been anything but. I'm sure I don't need to remind you about Shaking Sammy."
I chortled at the memory. It had been several months since we'd pulled that little stunt, but I remembered it well. Dago had done a truly exceptional job in putting in one of his fixes on a kid that had been touch-and-go for a while. We'd woken him in the middle of the night to come do some cross action for us, and by sun up the kid was well on his way to recovery. As payback, or thanks, or whatever we'd decided it should be, Duke, Trap and I decided to offer a human sacrifice in Dago's honor. We'd stolen a jeep in the middle of the night and driven up the road to the outfit were a Protestant chaplain—Shaking Sammy—was camped. We kidnapped him, brought him back to the 4077th, and tied him to a cross. We'd piled up anything flammable we could find, and the three of us camped out until sunrise when Dago had woken up and started getting ready to give mass. I'll never forget the utter shock and disbelief on Dago's face as I doused Shaking Sammy in "gasoline" and Trapper lit the fake Molotov cocktail. We had tossed the lit bottle and run, so I didn't get to witness Dago's reaction at that point, but to say Dago had been pissed at us was an understatement. I was surprised he'd ever talked to any of us again after that. It had been a prank, but it had landed us in pretty hot water.
"That wasn't funny, Hawkeye." He admonished me for my laughter, but I couldn't help it. It was still funny to me.
"We weren't really going to hurt him, Dago."
"He didn't know that, and neither did I at the time."
"Alright, alright," I conceded for the sake of argument. "Maybe it was over the top. But, I don't think I can talk Duke and Trapper out of the Sunday thing. They're pretty set on it."
Dago sighed, obviously trying to imagine the disaster that was going to be and realizing he was powerless to stop it. "Just keep them out of the sacrificial wine, alright?"
"I'll do my best." I knew I couldn't promise that. I glanced around the ward, making sure no one was paying attention to us and I leaned in a little closer, lowering my voice. "I really want to kiss you right now."
"Hawkeye," he blushed, glancing around nervously.
"No one's paying any attention to us." I soothed, slipping my hand under his blanket and gently squeezing his cock through his pajama bottoms.
He looked less than convinced, but bit his lip against the moan of pleasure he nearly made. His deep blue eyes met mine and I could see the desire there as he murmured, "Me too."
I looked around once more, making sure no one was looking, and leaned in to steal a very quick kiss. His cheeks were burning when I pulled back. I grinned at him and he rolled his eyes and shook his head.
"You're crazy, you know that, right?"
I laughed quietly. "Do you want me to bring you anything from your tent since you're stuck here for the night?"
He shook his head. "I think I'll just try to sleep."
"Okay." We looked at each other for a long moment and I felt his thumb stroking the back of my hand still covering his cock. I wanted to stay with him, but knew—for appearances sake—I shouldn't. "Listen, if you need anything, just tell the nurses to come get me, okay?"
"I will." He squeezed my hand under the blanket. "Thanks, Hawkeye."
I smirked, squeezed him again, making him moan softly, then withdrew my hand. "I'll see you in the morning, babe."
I left post-op, and headed for the nurses tent to find Becky and check on her. Several other girls were there, helping console her and she smiled softly at me as I came in.
"Hi, Hawkeye."
"I just wanted to see how you're doing."
She got up, taking my arm, "Can we go somewhere private and talk?"
She was already leading me out of the tent. "Uh, yeah sure, honey."
Somehow I knew that there wasn't going to be much talking, and sure enough, she drug me back into the supply tent and her lips were on mine almost in the same instant. As nice as kissing her was, she wasn't Dago…and Dago was who I really wanted to be kissing. She seemed to sense my lack of enthusiasm and pulled back.
"What's the matter? Don't you like me?"
"Of course I do…I'm just worried is all," I lied.
"I don't want to think about that anymore today, Hawkeye." She told me as she slipped her arms around my neck. "I just want to be here with you and forget what happened."
I wanted to tell her that she could forget all she wanted, but Dago would never be able to forget, but I didn't say anything. I let her continue to kiss me. I let her hand slip into my trousers and take hold of my cock. I let her take off her own pants and panties and guide me into her. I let myself fuck her.
Don't get me wrong, the sex was good and I had no problem finishing, but I just wasn't interested in Becky. A couple of weeks ago I would have been falling over myself for a chance with her…what the hell had happened to me? I walked her back to her tent, allowing her to give me a very lasting goodnight kiss, then went back to the Swamp.
I dug Dago's journal out of my footlocker and laid down to read.
15th October, 1942
Today I received my first letter from Danny since coming to Tibet. Part of me truly hoped he wouldn't write at all after the fiasco in New York when he came to see me off. What a nightmare… His letter was pretty standard—no apology of course, not that I expected one—but I haven't decided whether or not I intend to write back. I suppose I will have to eventually.
Tseten returned to Lhasa today from the Samye Monastery where he's spent the last 3 months secluded with other monks in the area. I didn't realize how much I'd missed seeing him every day until now. He told me they'd just celebrated the end of Vassa, which means 'Rain Retreat.' Buddhists treat monsoon season as a type of religious experience—to me it seems similar to Lent that Catholics celebrate in the Spring. I'm completely fascinated by the Buddhist religion and practices. I'm glad Tseten and I have become friends so that I can learn more about his religion. I'd love to visit the monastery and observe their practices.
I'm pretty sure the other missionaries here think I'm treating this opportunity as some sort of philosophical journey rather than the real purpose of ministering to the locals and helping the Catholic Church establish some roots in this area, but I don't see the problem with doing both. How can I be expected to minister to these people and convince them that Jesus Christ is their salvation if I don't understand their current beliefs?
Tseten seems to be as interested in religions on the whole as I am. I think I've witnessed more to him over the last six months than I have to anyone else, though I think he does it because it sparks a religious debate between us that can go on for hours. He would make a great politician in the States…
Tomorrow I plan to travel north of Lhasa to visit some of the villages we haven't made it to yet and meet with some of the locals. Tseten has offered to be my guide and interpreter since I still don't speak very much Tibetan, though I have been practicing. My fluent vocabulary now consists of: tashi dele (hello), kale shoo (goodbye), thoo jaychay (thank you), Ka tso ay? (How much?), and ha ko ma song (I don't understand). I'll keep pestering Tseten to teach me more.
Until then, I pray that God continues to watch over me and work through me on my mission here. I thank him for the friends I have made and the works he has helped me complete. Each day is a true blessing.
JM
I smiled softly as I finished the entry, visualizing the scenes in my head. I wondered what Danny's letter had said, and what fiasco Dago was talking about. I wondered if he had other journals prior to his starting this one in Tibet. I wondered if he'd kept one in seminary when he and Danny had been together. I'd have to remember to ask him.
"We've finally got it," Duke announced to me as he and Trapper entered the swamp. "We're going to do a magic show and turn water into wine just like Jesus did."
"Think you can convince Dago to give us some of his wine stash?" Trapper asked.
I shook my head as I tucked the journal under my pillow. "Not a chance, he's already sworn me in as protector of his wine."
"You told him?" Duke sounded hurt. "Hawkeye, you ruined the surprise!"
"I warned him, Duke. There's a difference." I pointed out. "He still hasn't forgotten about our sacrifice of Shaking Sammy, you know."
"Well, we weren't planning to sacrifice anyone this time," Duke said moodily. "What are we supposed to use if he won't let us have any wine?"
"Why not gin?" I offered.
"Yeah, I guess…not the same though."
"Was that Nurse Becky I saw you leaving the supply tent with?" Trapper asked, waggling his eyebrows at me.
"Yeah. I was offering her a little comfort," I winked at him and the two of them practically salivated.
"Man, I'd give my left nut to score with her," Trapper commented. "She's got nicer tits than Knocko."
"Nice ass, too," Duke added.
"And quite the talented little tongue," I supplied.
"We really gotta find a nickname for her," Duke said almost dreamily.
We spent a good portion of the night suggesting such names for Becky as we sipped gin martinis, ultimately coming up with nothing that we wanted to repeat in public.
When morning came, my first stop was post-op. Dago was awake and propped up on several pillows. I raised my eyebrows at him and sat down next to him. "Well, I see someone's feeling well enough to sit up."
"Honestly, it hurt so bad sitting up that I haven't had the courage to ask to lay back down yet."
I laughed softly, touching his hand and giving it a squeeze. "It's gonna hurt for a few days, baby. Can I pull your shirt up and check the stitches?"
"Yeah, I guess so." He sounded less than enthusiastic about that. "The bandage was changed about an hour ago."
"Good," I said as I gently lifted his right arm up so that I could pull the shirt up to look at the stitches. I didn't poke around today, and just lifted the bandage off enough to make sure the stitches hadn't pulled loose. "Do you feel like going back to your tent today?"
"Should I?" He asked with trepidation, obviously not looking forward to having to move more than necessary.
"I don't want you running any marathons any time soon, but you need to move around a little bit. The longer you stay still, the more painful the healing is going to be."
"I don't like the sound of that, either."
I laughed softly. "Stay here, I'll go get your robe."
I went to Dago's tent to fetch his robe and was greeted by Trapper and Duke looting Dago's wine. I shook my head at them and took one of the bottles they had pilfered, putting it back. "Go on, get outta here, I'm about to bring him back over here."
They grinned victoriously, running out the door with the 3 bottles I let them have. I hoped Dago wouldn't notice, but knew he would. He probably kept very close inventory on everything, knowing that the minute he turned his back, we'd all be wetting our tongues with sacrificial wine. I found his robe and turned down his bed, then headed back to post-op.
"Alright, baby, nice and slow, okay?" I said as I got on the left side of the bed and eased his back off the pillows until he was sitting up. He was wincing and hissing in pain, his left hand crossing his body as if to clutch as his side, but he thought better of it and his hand gripped my forearm instead.
"Ow…ow…ow…" He muttered through gritted teeth. I gave him a minute to get used to sitting up before I tapped his left leg.
"Alright, Dago, time to swing those legs over the side." He looked up at me in pained annoyance but slowly began to ease his legs over the edge of the cot one at a time, his hand still gripping my arm. "That's it, easy does it."
"I changed my mind," he said shakily. "I'll just lay here for the rest of the war."
"Not an option," I told him, smiling softly though I knew he was in serious pain. "You're almost there. It'll be better when you're on your feet."
He took a deep breath and I put my arm around his shoulders to help support him as he carefully stood up, sucking air through his teeth.
"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?"
He glared at me.
"I stand corrected," I lightly joked, picking up his robe with one hand and continuing to steady him with the other. I draped the robe across his shoulders, not wanting to try and get his arms into the sleeves and the nurse on duty set down a pair of slippers for him to use. He gingerly stepped into them and I held onto his left arm as I encouraged him to take a few steps around the ward first. I didn't want to get halfway to his tent and have him say he couldn't take another step. His eyes were closed in serious concentration as I helped him walk up and down the main aisle of post-op a couple of times. Each step seemed to be a little easier for him, but he was still favoring his right side and all but dragging his right foot to meet his left as he stepped forward.
"Baby, pick your feet up."
"I'm trying, Hawkeye,"
"I know, but you've got to pick your right foot up. Do I need to sing the hokey pokey?"
"Please don't." Though his voice was ragged from the painful exertion I was putting him through, I could hear the slight teasing note and it made me laugh. He finally started actually stepping with his right foot and when we got near the door to post-op I paused and looked over at him.
"Think you can make it over to your tent?"
He nodded, and we slowly headed out the door.
"Getting any easier?"
"A little," he managed. "But I feel like the stitches are about to come undone."
"I'll check them when we get you settled, but they should be fine." We took a few more steps before I glanced over at him. "Can I ask you something about your journal?"
"Sure."
"There was an entry from the middle of October where you received a letter from Danny. You mentioned something about a 'fiasco' in New York…what was that about?"
"It's a long story."
"I've got time."
"Can we get me to my tent first? It's hard to walk and talk right now."
"Sure," I chuckled softly.
We reached his tent and I grabbed the door, holding it open as he shuffled inside. I took the robe off his shoulders, draping it over the back of his chair, then reached for the buttons on the front of his pajama top, working them open so I could check his stitches.
"After seminary, I went home to San Diego for a few years," Dago said softly. I glanced up into his eyes and noted the faraway look. As he spoke, he held his shirt open to the side so I could look at his stitches. "I worked in a parish there and was pretty content with what I was doing, but when the second World War broke out and continued to rage on for a couple of years, I felt like I should be doing something other than sitting safely in my church giving Sunday services and confessions while others were out there suffering and dying."
I re-bandaged his side and led him over to his desk chair rather than his cot, interrupting him for only a moment. "Sit up for a while before I put you back in bed."
He held onto my arm for support as he gingerly sat down, left hand hovering around his right side, but not touching it. I sat myself on his bunk and listened to the rest of his story.
"Rather than go into the army at that time, I felt like I should be ministering to other parts of the world. I'd gone to school on the east coast, so I knew of the Maryknoll Missionaries in New York, so I gave them a call to find out if there were any mission trips that required the services of a priest. This was probably…oh, I don't remember…September of 1941? Around there. They told me they were getting ready to send a group to China and that they did, indeed, need more people.
"Danny and I had stayed in touch very regularly at this point. He had gone home to North Carolina and picked up work in a parish in Raleigh. I would say we wrote to each other nearly every week, and most of his letters suggested that I move to North Carolina and come work in his parish. I have to say I was sorely tempted to, but I knew that to keep myself from sinning with him, I couldn't. I wrote to him and told him that I had been accepted to join the missionaries and would be leaving for New York and then China in the upcoming months, and I think he must have tried to get in on the same trip as well, because he wrote back saying that I'd been lucky to get in before the spots were full.
"He asked me if I would at least spend Christmas with him before I left, so I agreed. I was due in New York after the new year to get ready for the trip and learn about the area I was going to be in, so I figured seeing him before I left was the least I could do. I stayed in a hotel rather than with him, but it did little to deter him from wanting to be together…and seeing him again had weakened my resolve. We spent most of the week I was there in bed together. I told him repeatedly—not that it did any good—that we couldn't keep doing what we were doing, but I was just as much to blame as he was.
"I didn't know where in China I was going to be exactly, so I promised to write him as soon as I had an address to give him so he could write me. He asked when the trip was scheduled to leave, so I told him. I didn't hear from him at all in January, though I'd written to him with the address of the church I was to be assigned to in Tibet. In February, I wrote and told him my official departure date was set for the end of the month and that by the middle of March he could write to me in Tibet. The night before we were set to leave, I still hadn't heard from Danny, but then one of the Sisters came and woke me up and said there was someone demanding to see me. I knew it was Danny, but I couldn't for the life of me fathom what he was doing there and why he was demanding to see me.
"He was drunk as a skunk and causing a scene, demanding that he be allowed to go on the trip as well because he and I did everything together and went everywhere together and they couldn't have me without him. I managed to quiet him down and drag him away from the crowd that had gathered to hear him rant. I was furious and completely embarrassed by him, and told him as much. I told him if he was going to act like a child, then I would start treating him like a child. He told me I had been a terrible friend and he hoped that my plane either crashed or that I was burned to death by the Chinese."
"Jesus, Dago…"
"Yes…well…I knew he didn't really mean it, but it still devastated me. I told him if that was the case then to never write to me again because I certainly had nothing to say to him. He didn't write for several months—like I said in the journal—but when he did he acted as though nothing had ever happened. Danny has was been that way, though. He can never take responsibility for anything he's done. It's either someone else's fault or it just never happened at all."
"So what did you say when you finally wrote back?" I asked, honestly curious.
"Something along the lines of how disappointed I was that he hadn't changed and hadn't apologized, but that I still considered him my best friend and forgave him."
"You're too soft, you know that?"
"So I've been told." He chuckled, then winced. "Ow…stop making me laugh."
"I didn't say anything funny," I pointed out, smirking as I got out of his cot. "Come on, let's get you back in bed for a while. I helped him back out of the chair, but he stopped me from moving him to his bed. He raised his left hand to the back of my neck and I didn't need to be urged forward into his kiss. I cupped his face, fighting against the itch to pull his body against mine as our tongues met. Damn, I'd missed kissing him like this.
When the kiss ended I rested my forehead on his. "You would have to go and get yourself injured so that I can't have my way with you." I teased.
"Yes, that's exactly what I was hoping for at the time." He countered, making me laugh. I kissed him again, and ran my hand through his hair as I carefully folded him into my arms. He rested his head against my shoulder, his left hand on my hip, right arm tucked up against his body.
A knock on his door broke us out of our embrace, but I held onto as if I'd been helping him to his bunk as he called the person in.
"Oh, Hawkeye, I didn't know you were still here," Henry Blake said with surprise.
"I made him stay out of bed for a few minutes," I told Henry. "I didn't think leaving him to try and get up and down by himself would be a nice thing to do."
"Good thinking. How's it going, Red?"
"Oh, I'm okay." Dago answered in that tone that said he didn't want to be a bother to anyone.
"That's Dago's way of saying it hurts like hell."
"Hawkeye," Dago admonished me, but there was no real anger behind the rebuke. I finally got him settled on the bunk and against his pillow as Henry came in fully, leaning on the back of the chair next to Dago's desk.
"The boys down in Seoul got wind of what happened up here yesterday," Henry told us. "General Hammond himself wants to come down and present you with a Distinguished Service Cross award. There was even talk of a promotion to Captain."
I watched Dago's face as Henry gave him the news. His brow was furrowed slightly and I knew he was about to start protesting. I smirked and had to busy myself with helping to arrange the pillow under his head to keep from outright laughing.
"Colonel, that's really not necessary," Dago said. "I mean, I'm honored, of course, but they should save that award for someone who truly deserves it."
"Father, I don't know if you're aware or not but you were wounded yesterday by an enemy soldier in a selfless act of heroism," Henry sounded like he was reading straight from the military handbook on qualifying acts for medals.
"It was hardly an act of heroism," Dago continued to argue. "Certainly not something that merits an award."
Henry sighed and shook his head, knowing he wasn't going to win this argument, and he changed the subject. "Well, can I at least assume you no longer want that transfer?"
Dago looked up at me and we held each other's eyes for a moment before he said. "No. If it's alright, I'd like to stay here."
"Well I'm glad the two of you worked out your differences. Now if you'll both excuse me…" Henry ducked back out of the tent and I snorted a laugh.
"You know they're still going to give you that award, right?"
"I really wish they wouldn't."
I sat on the edge of his bunk, looking at him closely. "Why don't you want it? You do deserve it, you know."
He shook his head. "Hawkeye, how many boys come through here missing arms or legs? How many have you patched up in the OR? How many have been here more than once? I know that half of the soldiers we see never get recognized for what they've done, and they're acts are far braver than me taking a knife in the side. I'm outraged that they would choose to acknowledge my single act when there are kids out there on the front lines getting shot at every day."
Though I did think Dago deserved the award, I understood how he felt and agreed with him. I smirked at him, "You should tell that to General Hammond."
"I just might." His tone implied that he was seriously considering doing just that.
"How's the pain level right now?"
"I'm okay," he answered, this time honestly. "Oddly enough I feel really tired."
"It takes a lot of energy for your body to heal and you're making a conscious effort in the way you walk and move and hold yourself." I explained. "You'll probably be tired for a couple of days. Are you hungry or thirsty at all? You haven't had anything since yesterday."
"I'm really not."
"I'm going to bring you some water anyways," I said standing up. "You at least need to drink and keep yourself hydrated. If I find something that'll be easy on your digestive system, I'll bring that too."
"Thank you, Hawkeye."
I leaned down and pressed my lips to his lips gently before pulling back. "Be back in a few minutes, babe."
I went by the mess tent to see if there was anything edible, but was accosted by Duke before I even made it through the chow line.
"Do you think Dago would teach me some of that Latin mumbo-jumbo he does during some of his services?" Duke asked as I slopped some oatmeal in a bowl and poured a glass of water.
"Is this for your thing tomorrow?"
"Yeah. I thought it'd be a nice touch to, you know, bless the wine." He mimicked Dago's cross action as he said it.
"I dunno; you'd have to ask him, and he's not thrilled about the whole idea."
"Eh, I'll ask him later. He doin' okay?"
"Seems to be. I'm bringing him something to eat right now." I held up the bowl and glass in my hands.
"Oh good, I'll come with you so I can ask about the Latin. Maybe you can help me convince him to say yes."
We headed back to Dago's tent and he looked up as we both entered.
"I picked up a stray on the way back." I motioned to Duke. "Can I keep him?"
Dago gave a short chuckle before wincing and whining, "I told you not to make me laugh!"
"I can't help it if you're easily amused, Dago."
Duke had gone over to Dago's side and was helping him to sit up a little so that he could eat and drink without choking. "Say, Dago, I know Hawkeye's already spoiled our big surprise for you tomorrow, but I was wondering if you might teach me that little Latin thing you do during your services when you bless the wine."
Dago's eyes glanced up at me in slight annoyance. "I told you to keep him out of the wine."
"They overpowered me." I countered innocently. "I was outnumbered."
He sighed softly but lifted his hand and demonstrated, "You just draw a cross over the thing you want to bless. The words are just the Latin translation of 'In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.'"
"Which is what?"
"In nomine patris et filii et spiritus sancti."
"Whoa, slow down there, Red. In no…"
"In…nomine…patris…et filii…et spiritus sancti." Dago said slowly, letting Duke echo the words. Then Dago did his cross action as he said the words to show Duke what it should look like. Duke's cross was a little more sloppy than Dago's and I wasn't convinced he had the Latin right, but Dago sighed.
"That's close enough."
"Thanks, Red." Duke clapped Dago on the shoulder then got up. "Stayin' here, Hawkeye?"
"For a bit, yeah."
"See y'all later then." Duke waved as he left.
"Outnumbered?" Dago asked incredulously as I pulled the chair over to the bed and handed him the bowl of oatmeal.
"I did stop them from taking as much as they were going to," I countered. He shook his head softly and began eating. "So, you went to Tibet before chaplain school, right?"
"Yes."
"And Danny followed you into the Army?"
"Also correct."
"You came to Korea…where did he go?"
"China." He said around a mouthful of oatmeal, swallowing before continuing. "Our army training was focused mostly on spiritual matters, but we're also required to do basic combat training since we could be assigned anywhere. Danny was top of the class in survival and sharp-shooting, and pretty much everything, so he got assigned as the chaplain for a combat unit."
"Have you been in touch at all since you've been here?"
He shook his head softly. "I told you by the end of our training we were barely even on speaking terms."
Dago reached over and took the glass of water from my hand, sipping it slowly before he passed both water and bowl back to me. "Had enough?"
He nodded. "Thank you for taking care of me, Hawkeye. You know I hate being any trouble to anyone."
"You're no trouble to me, baby," I leaned over and kissed him soundly on the lips. "Get some sleep, okay?"
He nodded and closed his eyes and I kissed his forehead before leaving his tent. The actual stray that typically followed me around was laying down in front of the swamp and I put the half-eaten oatmeal in front of him. "There you go, pup-pup."
The swamp was empty once again, so I took advantage of the quiet time by taking out Dago's journal again. His life felt so much more exciting than my own, and I was anxious to finish reading his journal. Part of me kept wondering about Danny how much he must have really cared for Dago. You didn't just go into the army on a whim. I knew things in China were pretty bad, did Dago ever worry whether or not Danny was still alive? He'd said they hadn't been friends for a while, but I knew Dago too well to know that he couldn't just stop carrying for someone…even someone like Danny. Or maybe especially someone like Danny.
31st October, 1942
I just spent several days with Tseten at the Samye Monastery, where the Buddhists celebrated Lha-Bab Duchen—the anniversary of Buddha's descent from heaven to earth. I learned that this is one of four festivals commemorating the life events of Buddha.
Before the festival, I helped to make tormas, which are made from wheat and yak butter and painted with red-dyed yak butter. They are meant to be conical shaped, but the ones I helped make certainly left something to be desired. Tseten didn't mention that the dye mixed in the butter is very potent…I'm still trying to wash the red off my hands.
The experience was unlike anything I've ever witnessed, and I cannot even begin to describe the Monastery. To see a structure as old as the Samye Monastery, untouched all these years by the civil wars that have ravaged this country…it's inconceivable. The monks live such simple lives, much the way the ancestors of the Catholic Church must have lived centuries ago. Their lives are completely entwined in their faith. I worried how they might react to me as an outsider from a different faith, but they accepted me with open arms, allowing me to observe and inviting me to participate in their rituals. Tseten and several others spoke to me at great length about the meanings of their festivals. Incredible.
Today, however, was my turn to teach Tseten and a few locals about All Saints Day, All Souls Day, and Halloween. They were all greatly amused by how the neopagan Celtic harvest festival of Samhain and the Catholic Church's tradition of honoring departed souls for All Souls Day had coalesced into a popularized holiday known as Halloween where children dress up in costumes and go Trick-or-Treating. We carved a few gourds and placed candles in them to honor souls in purgatory. I also extended an invitation for them to join us for mass on All Souls Day so that they could celebrate with us the lives of loved ones who have departed this world.
I've also expanded my vocabulary. I can count to ten, know the days of the week, and even the months. I'm well on my way to becoming fluent in Tibetan.
JM
I read several entries by the time lunch had rolled around. Half the time I found myself laughing out loud at some of the things Dago had written about. In one entry, he'd managed to get in a little bit of hot water when Tseten had taught him a greeting, but Dago had mispronounced a word and had ended up insulting one of the elder women in the village by accident. She'd ended up chasing him and Tseten all the way back to the church, hitting them over the head with a loaf of bread. He'd made amends with the woman after learning how to profusely apologize and had even brought her several loaves of bread to replace the one she'd beaten them with.
I put the journal back in my foot locker, then headed over to Dago's tent to see if he felt adventurous enough to have lunch in the mess hall. I didn't want him moving around too much, but I also didn't want him being still for too long. I didn't bother knocking before entering. Dago had been awake and was staring at the ceiling of his tent with a strange expression on his face.
"Are you okay?" I asked worriedly.
"I'm really glad you came back just now," he said with a relieved sigh, reaching his hand out for me. "I've been laying here for the last half hour trying to figure out how I was going to get up and go to the bathroom."
I doubled over laughing as I took his elbow and helped him to his feet. "I'm sorry, babe; I didn't even think about that."
"It's okay. Luckily it wasn't an emergency or anything," he said, blushing furiously.
"Well, let's make a stop by the latrine and then head on over to the mess tent for lunch. You need to be up for a while anyways."
He nodded and leaned on me for support as we walked. Several people were milling about the camp and they all greeted Dago as we headed for the latrine, wishing him a speedy recovery. Dago thanked each one, but didn't stop for conversation. I bit back the smirk as I realized just how bad he needed to piss.
"Need any help?" I offered, waggling my eyebrows at him playfully.
He blushed again. "I think I can manage this alone."
I waited outside for him and caught a glimpse of Trapper as he left the post-op ward. I whistled at him and he looked at me curiously before heading over. "Do you make a habit of trolling around the latrine now?"
"Waiting for Dago," I said, motioning towards the door.
Trapper nodded just as the latrine door opened again and Dago inched his way back to me. Trapper was pulling up Dago's pajama top and moving the bandage to look at the stitches despite Dago's protests. "You know, Hawk, you really need to make him move around on his own."
I opened my mouth, intent on telling Trapper to butt out, but he cut across me and took Dago's hand off my arm.
"Come on, Red, try walking on your own. We'll be beside you if you need us."
Dago gave me a long suffering look. I nodded to him, letting him know I wasn't going anywhere and we slowly made our way towards the mess tent. I could tell about half way there Dago was starting to feel the pain of moving around. He stopped walking, clutched his side and winced painfully. "I need to stop…"
My arm was around him immediately and he sagged against me. I could feel him breathing very shallowly. "Normal breaths, Dago." I was worried he'd make himself light-headed and pass out. Then we'd really be in a fix.
He made a conscious effort to breath as deep as he could.
"Come on, Red, we'll get you the rest of the way there and you can sit and rest." Trapper said, as he slid his arm around Dago's back next to mine. We got him into the mess tent and carefully deposited him on a bench, sitting on either side of him to make sure he was okay.
"That's the longest you've been on your feet," I ribbed.
He gave me a ragged look. "Yeah, but now I have to walk back."
"Well, at least you can rest here for a little while and get something solid in your system." I gently squeezed his knee. "Stay put, I'll be right back."
"Trust me, that's not a problem at this point."
I ran my fingers through his hair as I stood up with Trapper and the two of us went through the chow line to get ours and Dago's lunch.
"Think we're pushing him too hard?" Trapper asked glancing over at Dago.
"I dunno. He is in a lot of pain."
"When's the last time he was given something for the pain?"
"This morning, I assume." I replied, mentally kicking myself. "I didn't look at his chart before I released him."
"We'll give him something after lunch," Trapper said.
"You think the work I did inside is holding up?"
"We'd know if it wasn't. He wouldn't be able to do anything, especially not walk across the camp."
"Technically he only made it half way," I pointed out.
"Better than I expected," Trapper admitted.
As Trapper and I dug into our lunch ravenously, Dago picked at his like a sparrow. He managed a few small bites and some water before he pushed his tray away. I looked over at him and noticed he looked exhausted and uncomfortable.
"What's the pain level right now?" I asked.
"I just…really want to…lay down." He answered with labored breaths.
"Trap, go get a wheelchair."
"No," Dago protested. "I'll walk."
"Trap, go; Dago, I can tell you're in a lot of pain and it's just going to get worse if I make you walk back to your tent."
"Can I…stay in the Swamp?" He asked quietly.
I was surprised by the request, curious as to why he would want to be there instead of his own tent. "It's not going to be near as private or quiet as your tent."
"I know…" he didn't elaborate as a painful spasm took hold of his side and he reach out and gripped my arm.
"Of course you can bunk with us," I told him as the spasm subsided. I would love to have him there with us, but I knew that with Trapper, Duke and 'chuck around, I wasn't going to be able to kiss him or be close to him like I would in his tent. I knew, though, that I was being selfish. Sex was probably the furthest thing from Dago's mind right now.
Trapper returned with the wheelchair and a syringe of pain-relieving liquid and we both helped Dago up from the bench and into the chair. I instructed Trapper to take him to our tent and put him in Frank's old bunk while I went to his tent to get a few of his things. I grabbed his robe, his little prayer book and his rosary beads, then headed back to the swamp.
Trapper was covering him up when I got there and presented him with my gifts.
"Thanks, Hawkeye." He said tiredly as he took the book and the beads and held them against his chest. I hung his bathrobe up next to mine.
"I just gave him some meds, so he'll probably zonk out in a second." Trapper mumbled.
"Feeling better now, babe?" I asked, sitting next to him on the cot.
"Getting there. Thanks, fellas." He said, looking up at both me and Trapper.
"Don't mention it," Trapper replied, heading for his bunk and flopping into it before he grabbed a beer and cracked it open.
Dago gave a tired sigh and closed his eyes. "I feel better knowing you're here if I need you."
I smiled softly and squeezed his hand. "I'm just a cot away."
I let Dago start to doze off under the effects of the pain medication, and moved to my own bunk. Trapper was looking at me with a strange expression. "What?"
"He's really taken a shine to you, Hawk."
"It's my charming personality, no one's immune."
"Uh huh," Trapper snorted skeptically, chugging the rest of his beer before turning over to nap. "I think you're corrupting him. I fully expect in a week's time he'll throw down his Bible and convert to the Church of Hawkeye Pierce. Then we'll have to contend with him chasing our nurses, and trust me...quiet type like him, he'll win them all."
I, once again, dug Dago's journal out of my footlocker, laughing at Trapper's prophecy. I wanted to say he couldn't be further from the truth, but I didn't say anything. As he and Dago slept, I read.

TBC
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Infatuation