Work Text:
Korea, Late September, 1952
Trapper sat down on Hawkeye’s bunk. Leaning back he rooted through the bookshelf and pulled out Hawkeye’s pen and stationary. Trapper stared at the blank stationary a while and began to write.
Dear Hawk,
Funny thing is, I’ve been thinking about leaving Korea since the day I got here. I just never thought about leaving without you. That’s pretty sappy isn’t it. I’m sure you never thought I’d be the guy choked up over a letter, huh? I sure didn’t. I wish you weren’t in Tokyo… It’d be a lot easier to avoid telling you what I want to say in person than in this crummy letter.
You’re probably pretty cheesed off at me for leaving before you got back. It’s probably better this way, dont’cha think? This way’s cleaner. I thought I’d be able to get these words out of my head easier than this.
Trapper sighed at the paper and scrubbed his hands over his face.
I wanted to tell you how much you meant to me, how much you mean to me. Dammit, Hawk. I’m no good at this. I tell ya what, I’m glad to be going home. Glad to be leaving this crummy war, in this crummy country, with all these crummy people around. But mostly Hawk, I’m glad to be leaving you.
You don’t know what it’s like, caught up, day and night in your wake. I’ve loved you since that first time in Seoul, ya know… That’s not true. I loved you before then. I loved you after the first time we worked in the OR together. We’d been in the OR for fifteen straight hours, it was a Hell of a first day. We worked on a kid together, Jacobs or Johnson or something, couldn’t have been anymore than eighteen and he was bleeding out. We saved him, if you don’t remember, and you were so happy. It was like all the exhaustion flooded out of you. You danced all the way to the Swamp. We hadn’t even named it the swamp yet. Henry came in with a bottle of whiskey and we drank until we were sick. You upchucked in my shoe. Not really the most romantic way to fall for someone, but it’ll have to do. We were inseparable after that night.
Ya whanna know the hardest thing about writing this letter? The Hardest thing about saying goodbye to you? It’s knowing that right now, as I pour my heart out on this piece of paper you’re probably balls deep in some hot little number you met in the Pink Pagoda. I know that I have no right to be jealous. I mean, I am a married man after all. I know you like to remind me of that whenever things get to intense. That night in Seoul’s probably the only thing that’s kept me going in this hell hole. Well, that night in Seoul and all the other nights we’ve shared.
I think—-
Trapper paused to wipe away the tears running down his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he’d been crying. He looked back to the paper, determined to leave Hawkeye a note that explained how he felt. After doing his best to dab away the tears that had fallen on the page and smeared the ink, he continued.
—-I know how the nurses must feel. I mean, it’s harder than you know. First you’ve got the indomitable Benjamin Franklin Pierce pulling you in with the gravity of his words and charm, then you find yourself swept up in the thrill of it all. You always read books that describe the leading lady as a moth drawn to her leading man’s flame… That’s you Hawk, you’re the flame. Next thing ya know you’re pushed aside like yesterday’s chopped liver. All because the Great Hawkeye’s attention’s been grabbed by a new pair of legs with a pretty face. It’s hard to sit on the sidelines through all of that and come out with your heart in one piece.
So, yeah, I’m glad I’m leaving. That way I can drop all of this in your lap and not get punched in the kisser. I told you once, albeit drunkenly, that I’d leave Mel and come to Maine with you. Look, I know what you said, and I know that neither one of us rates a Six on the Kinsey Scale, but I still think we could make it work, I’d still leave Mel if you said the word.
I’ll miss you Hawk. Maybe you could call or write me sometime, yeah?
Your Pal,
Trapper
Trapper signed the note and sealed it. He scrawled Hawkeye across the front before dropping the envelope in Hawkeye’s open footlocker.
Crabapple Cove, Early August, 1953
Hawkeye sat on the floor of his old room in his dad’s house. He thought about how strange it was to be back, about how he’d thought he’d never get used to army life, now he thought he’d never get used to civilian life. With a sigh he opened his footlocker, his eagerness to unpack was driven by the idea that, just maybe, if he could take his life out of this olive drab box he might be able to feel normal again. He sorted through the last three years of his life as meticulously as he could. He touched everything, made sure that it all had a place to be. The case was empty. All Hawkeye had to do was shut the top and he felt he could close the book on a terrible chapter of his life. As he leaned over the top to close the lid an envelope caught his eye. Pulling it out he recognized Trapper’s handwriting and froze. He didn’t know how he’d missed the letter for the last year, but somehow he had. With shaking hands he opened the envelope and pulled out the tear streaked letter. Hawkeye could feel the tears welling in his own eyes as he read…