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Coffee grasped between both hands, Hawkeye leaned over his cup and took another deep sip. Each drop was even more unsatisfying than the last and was doing no favors for his pounding headache. Slowly, almost painfully so, he pushed it away and placed his forehead on the table in hopes the pressure would help.
“Well, Pierce, I hope you’ve learned your lesson about the overconsumption of alcohol this time,” Frank said smugly.
“No, but you’re about to learn a lesson in dentistry when I knock your teeth out,” Hawkeye snapped back, keeping his head down. He let out a long, muffled groan. He swore to himself, to God and even to General McArthur that if he survived through the morning, then he would never drink again.
There was a snort. “Please, you giving up alcohol is like-”
“Hot Lips Giving up the hair bleach,” Trapper cut in.
“Excuse you?!” Margaret yelped, dropping her fork onto her tray. “I do not bleach my hair!” she declared, subconsciously touching her roots.
“Wait, who said I was going to give it up?” Hawkeye asked, not acknowledging anything else as he raised his head slightly.
“You did,” Trapper answered. “Just now.”
Hawkeye was already shaking his head. “No, I didn’t say that out loud. I was thinking it. Honestly, the invasion of privacy is getting worse by the day around here. It’s bad enough that the nurses get spied on in the showers, but I draw the line at people spying inside my own head.
“Who’s been spying?” Major Houlihan questioned, brows knit.
“Don’t worry, I make sure to cover the hole so no one else knows about it,” Hawkeye assured.
Before Margaret could voice her clear displeasure, Frank veered the conversation back on track. “Pierce, as much as I would encourage you to quit drinking, I know for a cold hard fact, that will never happen. Admit it, you have an addiction. A problem, quite frankly,” he said with a cock of his head. A little too smug for Hawkeye’s liking.
“It’s not an addiction. I just choose to do it.”
“Every day,” Frank added. “You choose to drink every day. Ergo, an addiction. Now I don’t like you, but you need help. I mean look at you. Hungover and a complete mess.”
“Well I can tell you right now, I don’t think I will ever pick up another drink as long as I live,” he whined, turning his face towards the table in order to hide from the light. “I don’t even want to think about a drink right now.”
“Addiction,” Franks whispered, leaning over towards Margaret.
Major Houlihan nudged him lightly. “Well, I for one think it’s a great idea for you to clean up your act a bit, Pierce. I think you’ll find life a lot more enjoyable when sober.”
“I think I’d find life more enjoyable if it ended right now,” Hawkeye muttered. “In fact, I think I’m gonna go slip out of the living world for a while,” he mumbled, standing. “I’m going back to bed. If you need me, you don’t.”
“I should probably make sure he actually makes it back to the Swamp,” Trapper muttered, following right after the other man. He quickly caught up as Hawkeye was dragging his feet, moving slow. He heard the two whispering amongst themselves behind him, but he didn’t pay them any mind - didn’t care.
Trapper jogged until he was in step next to Hawkeye just to fall in line behind him as they entered the tent.
As soon as he was in, McIntyre poured himself a glass and glanced over his shoulder as Hawkeye collapsed onto his bed. “Want one?” Trapper asked. “Might help ease into the day with a little transition,” he offered.
“I told you, I don’even wanna think about the stuff right now,” the other man complained into his pillow.
“You’re serious.”
Hawkeye peeked through one eye, turning his head just slightly. “You thought I was kidding? Yes, I’m serious, Trap. If nothing else it’s personal now. Gonna make Frank eat his words. It won’t be that hard, just no drink for a week, tops,” he shrugged.
“And you sure you can do that?”
“Yes,” Hawkeye said with spite. “What, you don’t think I can do it either, do you?” He got no response. “Oh my God, you really don’t. I can’t believe this. My own friend,” he said as he slowly sat up, shaking his head slowly. “I thought if no one else, you’d have my back.”
Trapper raised his hands in self defense. “Hey, I’m not saying you won’t do it. I believe you can do it if you really want to. All I’m saying is, is it a good idea? You have martinis for breakfast and liquor for dinner.”
“That’s not true, sometimes I have a nurse. And sometimes I manage to force down whatever they happened to run over that day. It’s not always liquor. Out of the three, though, it’s the second best option.” He paused for a long moment. “And right now, the thought of any of those is making me want to hurl … except for the nurses,” he clarified as he eased himself back down, fully intending to sleep this hangover off.
He doesn’t know when he fell asleep and he had no idea for how long he was out, but what he did know was waking up was no better than going to sleep. The one thing he was painfully aware of was how dry his mouth was. He realized he forgot to drink water before taking his nap. That left him laying there half dried out.
Hawkeye’s bleary gaze drifted over to Trapper’s bunk just to find he had left at some point. He let out a long sigh, that meant he would have to get himself up and drag himself to the mess tent. Honestly, the way he felt, he would have settled for a puddle in the middle of the road if he could see the bottom of it. Hell, even if he couldn’t.
He closed his eyes as he pulled himself into a sitting position with his head hanging low. With one hand pressed against his forehead, he let out a small, croaky groan. For a very brief moment, he thought of the distillery and instantly thought against it as he reminded himself that it would do nothing for him. Hawkeye took a long breath and, bracing one hand on the bed, he stood up. It took everything in him not to fall back into bed and sleep for a bit longer, hoping that would solve all of his problems.
It wasn’t far to the mess tent, he could make it that far. He hoped.
His feet moved one miserable step at a time. But they were nothing compared to when he actually stepped outside and the midday sun bore down on him. He could almost hear the sizzle as what little hydration his body had was consumed by the heat. One hand was raised in a weak attempt to block it. Now, the need to get out of the sun was almost as strong as his need for water. On his next step, he was nearly knocked off his feet as he bumped into someone.
“Watch where you’re going, Pierce,” came the major’s snide remark as he brushed off his clothes.
Hawkeye looked at the other man for a long moment as if trying to figure out who - or what - he was looking at. “Oh, sorry Frank, you just sorta blend in with the rest of the colors,” he muttered, gesturing around with his hand as if he had any idea what Hawkeye was talking about. “But, if you don’t mind, I would really love for you to get out of the way,” he added, placing a firm hand on Frank’s upper arm in order to push him aside.
The major let out a huff. “Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?”
The captain called back over his shoulder, “Yeah, as well as the wrong side of the planet.” He didn’t stop in his pursuit of hydration, weaving around anyone that crossed his path. Moving as quickly as he could, he nearly tripped over his own feet as he finally reached his destination. As dirty and murky as it may or may not have been, it was some of the best water he thought he’d ever had in his life. It didn’t help much with the slight lingering headache, but his body was thanking him deep down.
He didn’t care about the stares he was receiving or the people he had cut in front of. All he knew was mild relief. He did, however, raise a hand in apology once he filled up another cup and slowly dragged his feet away. Part of him wanted to return to the Swamp, but he wasn’t sure his legs were quite ready for the return trip. As subtle as he could. Hawkeye slipped into a seat at one of the empty tables, as far in the corner as he could.
It was somewhat quiet as it seemed as though most had already come and gone. It was a nice, short moment of peace. And short it was.
“Oh, look who’s alive,” Trapper said as he approached with a tray. “Late lunch,” he explained with a nod down at it.
“Alive is an overstatement.”
Trapper gave a curt nod. “Damn, still readjusting to the day?” McIntyre asked.
“Still asking stupid questions?” Hawkeye snapped back. He took a deep breath immediately afterwards. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean that,” he sighed before yawning deeply. “Guess I’m still not fully awake,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. He took a deep breath and straightened himself up. Voicing the need for a drink was on the tip of his tongue, but he held it back and swallowed it back down as soon as the idea popped into his head.
Trapper shook his head. “Don’t sweat it, Hawk. I only hear about every other word you say anyway. I’ve gotten pretty good at ignoring you for the most part,” he shrugged.
“I should be offended but I can’t muster the energy to be.” He paused for a long moment before slamming a hand down on the table with a barely subdued hiss. “I almost forgot … got post-op duty soon. Think they’ll notice if I just don’t go?” he asked, slinking back down slightly.
“Not like you do anything while you’re there anyway. If you don’t go, the nurses might actually get some work done for a change.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Want to put that in writing for when I break the news to Henry?”
As hopeful as the idea was, it was a no go. He knew it wasn’t going to work, but hell, it was worth a shot. And within an hour he was seated at the desk in post-op, doing nothing. Just as he predicted he would be. There was never anything to do there and when there was something to do, it was too much to do. It was a lose-lose on any given day. Though, with the way his head was pounding and antsy fingers tapping, it was probably for the best there was nothing going on. Gave him a chance to take a nap.
Or try to.
Try as he might, he could not convince his body to relax enough to find rest. He hid his face from the light and cleared his mind as much as he could - but it was a no go. The one thing that would make the next few hours go by faster, and he couldn’t even do that. It really felt like some sort of divine punishment. Perhaps it was, maybe it really was a punishment from God himself for all the excessive drinking.
No, that couldn’t be true. Being in Korea was the real punishment. Anything else was a blessing in comparison. Slowly, as he gave up any hope, he sat up, flinching as he opened his eyes and they were assaulted by the blaring lights. Hawkeye blocked it with one hand and leaned back.
Just how much longer did he have to go?
The captain glared at the clock, squinting to make out the numbers. Unfortunately, he still had quite a while to go. Another six hours, to be exact. And he busied himself as much as he could for most of those. He checked charts, asked each patient more than once and asked for great detail on how they were doing. He finally gave up when they started ignoring him, getting annoyed themselves.
So by the sixth hour, he was back where he started, seated at the desk with absolutely nothing to do. And having nothing to do was getting worse and worse by each passing second. It just made him that much more aware of his headache and antsy hands.
As he sat there, he looked down at them, slowly realizing they weren’t just antsy, they had developed a very slight tremble. He tucked them between his knees to steady them and took a deep, slow breath. He closed his eyes for a few long seconds and when he opened them back up, he caught it out of the corner of his eye - someone stepping out. He took a quick look around, counting the staff and finding them all present.
So, his next assumption was one of the patients left and somehow none of the nurses saw him. Agan, he counted and came up to six, the - all accounted for.
He definitely saw someone though.
Slowly, eyes on the door where they left, Hawkeye approached it with caution. He must have been moving slower than expected or stared harder than he thought as one of the nurses stopped next to him, followed his gaze and then looked back at him.
“Is everything alright, Doctor?” she asked, brows knit.
He raised a hand in a gesture to ask her to wait a moment, and he was a little more aware of the slight shakiness in it. “Who was just in here?” he asked, not looking away from the door.
“What do you mean?”
“Someone just left. Who was it?”
The nurse glanced around and slowly turned back towards Hawkeye. “No one left. At least no one that I saw,” she said softly with a shrug. Then she leaned in close and kept her voice even lower, “Are you alright, sir?”
Hawkeye turned back to the door as he muttered a quiet “Yeah … I’ll be right back. I think I just need some fresh air.” Which was true to a degree. It was getting uncomfortably hot in there; he could feel beads of sweat welling up across his forehead as well as his back. He shoved his hands in his pockets on the way out in order to subdue their trembling.
The late evening air didn’t do much to help anything other than the slight stuffiness of being cooped up inside. He took a deep breath before taking a glance around. Traffic was minimal, as would be expected around that time of day. For a brief moment, his attention drifted towards the Officer’s Club, but before he could even entertain the thought, he forced his eyes away with a shake of his head.
He did not need a drink. Or want one. He didn’t have a problem and he was going to prove to both Frank and Trapper that he didn’t.
And himself.
What he did need, however, was to stay out there for a little while longer, at least enough to cool off some and stave off the minor nausea that tickled the back of his throat. He closed his eyes and leaned against the side of the building. After a couple of minutes, he was vaguely aware of the fact that he was slowly sliding down, but he didn’t care at the moment. Sitting was a lot more comfortable than standing, it just meant he was likely going to be out there longer than he planned. That was also fine. If anyone needed anything, he was sure someone could come find him. They had a knack at pinpointing his exact location.
He had to admit, sitting there with a slight breeze and not moving actually was helping a lot. Enough so that he quickly lost track of time and lost some awareness as he jumped at the quiet call of his name.
It took his eyes about five seconds to locate the source of the sound, and a few seconds more for him to make out who it was.
“Radar, what do you want?” he mumbled, closing his eyes back.
The younger man cleared his throat and shifted a bit on the spot. “Nothing, sir. Was just walking by and saw you sitting out here. Just wanted to make sure you were alright.”
Hawkeye heaved a heavy breath. “Why does everyone keep asking that?”
“Well, you’re sitting on the ground,” the corporal began. “And you’re sweating.” He paused for half a second. “And your hands are shaking.”
The captain cracked an eye open to see Radar looking down at his hands folded in his lap and he looked down as well. They were indeed shaking. It wasn’t much as they were resting, but it was noticeable.
“I’m out here trying to mind my own business. You should try the same sometime,” he mumbled. Radar was about to respond, but Hawkeye continued talking unprompted. “No, don’t try and argue, just leave me alone for a while,” he said, waving his hand dismissively.
“I … I didn’t say anything,” Radar replied, glancing around to make sure there wasn’t anyone else around Hawkeye may have heard instead. As he thought, there was no one else around. “Are you talking to me?” he asked just to be sure.
“Of course I’m talking to you. Who else would I be talking to?”
Radar nodded, trying to understand. “Oh … ok. Well, if you’re fine, I guess I’ll jus-”
“Dammit, I already told you. I’m fine! I’ve never been better. I don’t know why all of you are all over my case about this! Just let it go already and leave me alone!” He was getting to his feet at the end of his little outburst, one hand on the wall.
“I … sir, what are you talking about?”
“What am I talking about? What are you talking about? You’re the one that won’t stop talking and nagging me. So you tell me what it’s about.”
Radar slowly shook his head. “Hawkeye … you’re not making any sense. Should I, uh, get someone? Father Mulcahy or something?”
Hawkeye stopped when he was halfway to his feet before changing his mind and sitting back down without a word. “No, no, there’s no need for that,” he sighed, stretching his legs out in front of him. He patted the ground next to him. “Come on down, take a seat.”
Radar was clearly hesitant, but this was technically a request from a superior officer and he wasn’t about to refuse. So, slowly, he lowered himself to the ground and sat down next to the doctor. Sitting next to the other man with a closer view, he honestly looked even worse. Sweaty and pale.
“I really think I should get someone,” Radar muttered, about to get back up. But a strong hand on his shoulder kept him in place.
“No, no, sit right here. Don’t go anywhere,” Hawkeye requested, voice calm.
O-ok,” Radar stammered, easing himself back down, almost afraid to move too quickly. He was silent, unsure what to say or if he even should say anything. From what it seemed, it didn’t matter what he said or didn’t say; Hawkeye was having his own conversation with someone Radar couldn’t see.
“What are you even doing out here?” Hawkeye asked after a long, awkward moment.
The corporal glanced down at the papers in his hand. “I was just, uh, taking these to the colonel,” he answered, giving them a small wave. “Which I probably should get these to him soon,” he shrugged with a half smile.
Hawkeye heaved a heavy breath, hands fiddling in his lap. “Don’t go, kid,” he muttered, dragging a trembling hand down his face.
“I can come right back if you really want me to sit here with you,” Radar offered, really unsure what he was supposed to say anymore. “It will only take a minute,” he explained, pointing a thumb at the wall right behind them.
But the other man shook his head. “No, you can’t go,” Hawkeye said, bowing his head as he drew his knees closer to his chest. “You won’t come back. So many never come back,” he mumbled, shaking his head.
“I’m just going to Colonel Henry’s office. I promise, it won’t take long.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
Radar took another look around, looking for anyone that could lend a hand. No one close enough. “I’m not lying. You can come with me, Hawkeye,” he offered as he stood once more. He held out a hand for him to take, which he did after a second of reluctance. “And maybe Henry will know what to do with you…”
With Radar leading Hawkeye by the arm, they very slowly made their way to Henry’s office where the captain was gently lead to a chair to take a much needed seat as the trembling seemed to have spread beyond just his hands.
“Jesus, what’s wrong with him?” Henry asked, nodding his head towards Hawkeye.
Radar glanced over at the man, now curled up in the chair, muttering in hushed whispers to himself. “I don’t know, sir. I was hoping you could tell me, sir.”
The colonel rose from his chair and walked carefully around the desk and crouched next to Hawkeye.
“I brought those reports,” Radar said, lifting the papers a little higher.
Henry waved a hand at him without turning around. “Just put them on my desk,” he instructed, looking Hawkeye in the eyes. “Hey, Pierce, look at me. Are you on something? Did you take something?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
Hawkeye shook his head and took a deep, shaky breath. “No, dad. And I didn’t steal your car.” He blinked heavily, never really looking Henry in the eyes.
The colonel snapped his fingers and barely got a response.
“What’s wrong with him?” Radar asked, a little unsteadily.
Henry sighed heavily. Honestly, it wasn’t the first time he’d seen it, and it wasn’t exactly hard to put the pieces together after having to listen to Major Burns talk his ear off about the drinking problem around the unit.
“Don’t worry about Hawkeye, he’ll be alright. Just get Trapper in here to get him to bed. And tell Frank he’s on post-op duty for the rest of the night.
“He’s not going to like that, sir.”
“I don’t give a flying hoot what Frank thinks. Just get him in there and tell McIntyre to get in here,” he repeated.
Radar nodded without another word and left quickly. With him gone, Henry returned his attention to Hawkeye who was dozing off. He quickly checked him over. At least the symptoms didn’t seem too severe and he hoped this was the peak of it. If so, it should settle down soon enough. Just had to get him to bed where he could ride it out.
He pulled one eyelid open and took a mental note of the slightly dilated pupil. “Pierce, why do you do this to yourself,” he whispered, clicking his tongue. He raised his head as Trapper stepped in, his eyes instantly dropping to Hawkeye. He let out a long sigh.
“McIntyre, I’m placing him in your care. Please get him into bed.”
Trapper stepped closer and hooked an arm around the other man, throwing all gentleness to the wind. “Come on, Hawk,” he muttered, practically flinging him over his shoulder.
“Please be car-” but it was too late, Trapper was already gone. Henry pressed his lips together and stood, rubbing the back of his head. “I need a drink.”
Trapper heard Hawkeye’s muffled words against his back, but couldn’t make out any of it. He seriously had his doubts that Hawkeye even knew what he was talking about. He nodded at others on the way by, ignoring their looks of concern and questioning whispers. He pushed his way through the door of the Swamp and dropped Hawkeye down on his bed who groaned with the impact.
“Told you it was an addiction,” Trapper said, taking a seat on the edge of his own bed. “Do you believe me now?”
Hawkeye said nothing and only let out a miserable groan as he curled up on his side.
“Yeah, I guess you do. Don’t worry, it’s only going to suck for a little while before you do it all over again.” Hawkeye pulled his cover over his head and shivered. Shaking his head, Trapper tossed his cover over, managing to get half of it over Hawkeye. “Yeah, you’re not going to learn a damn thing, are you?”