You Are Never Alone

 A nurse dabs Hawkeye's forehead, and then he begins to undress after a long day of surgery. Trapper comes up next to him, washing up. "Dear Lord, I don't think I've seen so much metal in one person before."

Hawkeye dries his hands and heads outside. "I have, completely made out of tin. Maybe you know him, he's looking for a heart, a lion, a scarecrow, and a kid in pigtails."

Trapper follows and gives a small chuckle. "Hey, I'm heading back to the swamp. Wanna come? I'll make us some martinis."

The young man smiles and pats his friend on the back. "I'm gonna walk it off. Take a quick walk around camp. I'll be back soon, don't you worry your pretty little head."

Trapper smiles and nods his head saying, "Well don't wander too far, I expect you home by midnight!"

Both men laugh as they split up, and Hawkeye puts his hands in his pockets, listening to the sounds that surrounded him. Jeeps growling, the occasional plane passing by, the sound of chatter by men and women. He stops in his tracks suddenly as he hears the sound of your soft crying. He slowly and quietly walks up to the door of the tent and grows concerned as suddenly the the crying stops and a soft thud hits the ground. He flings open the door.

You're on the ground, blood on your arms from the cuts of a stolen scalpel that hangs loosely from your limp hand. "Jesus!" Hawk cries, taking the scalpel and throwing it to the side and then grabbing your limp body and taking you up into his arms bridal style.

He discreetly takes you to the operating room. He lays you on a table, grabs peroxide and cleans the cuts thoroughly before starting to stitch up your wrists and arms. What the hell was she thinking, Hawkeye thought. His hands move quickly and nimbly, and when he finishes, he sighs, rubbing his eyes and takes you to a post-op bed.

You wake up, eyes blurry. It's dark, but you see the figure of a man, hunched over the end of your bed. Your arms sting, wrapped up in bandages. Softly, you sigh, your plans didn't follow through as you had hoped. You're still here in godforsaken Korea: in your own ugly skin. Suddenly, the figure moves and wakes from his slumber. You realize it's Captain Pierce, and look away. Of anyone to find you, it had to be him, of course. His bright blue eyes glow in the faint moonlight.

"Did you have to go and do that?" He asked softly. His voice was tired, eyes red. It was obvious he had stayed up late, even after a long day working.

You look away, unable to say anything—ashamed and embarrassed.

Hawkeye sighs and runs a hand through his black hair, and checks your bandages. "Well, you're lucky anyways. I found you moments after you lost consciousness."

You murmur softly, "No one was supposed to save me."

Hawkeye's head sharply turns to you. "What did you expect me to do? Watch you die from the blades I that work with that are meant to save?"

Your eyes unwillingly well with tears, one rolling onto your cheek. He sees, his face softening, and sits closer to you, wiping it away with his thumb. "Why would you try and do such a foolish thing like suicide? The war's bad, but, Jesus, kid..."

You let out a whisper. "I can't do this anymore, Hawkeye. Images of torn up bodies, missing limbs, the works, burned now permanently in my mind...I just...I can't..." You choke on your tears. The waves of fear, the emotions take over, sobbing. "It doesn't stop...It never stops..."

He pushes your hair behind your ear and wraps his long arms around you, gently rubbing your back, silent, letting you release all the built up hidden sadness. "Shh," he eventually says.

He lays you back down and searches your face with pity. "[Your name], this war is such hell, no man or woman fighting or working is going to forget it. Unfortunately some of us are going to remember it more clearly than others. I'm just sorry someone such as you has to bear that burden. No one should have to..."

You can't help but be drawn into his softness. His usual cynical comments weren't around. He traces your jaw with his finger before pulling away. "Just remember that if you need to talk, Father Mulcahy and I are always here. Don't be afraid to talk to either of us. Please, before you rush off and do something like this again?"

You nod, comforted by the small touch of his finger. He lets a small smile cross his face before standing and strokes back your hair softly. "Now, get some rest. I'll be back early tomorrow morning and give you a clean shirt with sleeves. Everything will be alright, I promise."

He kisses your forehead lightly and leaves, shutting the door. You mutter before falling asleep, "I hope so, Hawkeye."