MirrorM*A*S*H: part 2
More perverse fluff. Part one here.

A hand caught at Hawkeye's shoulder in his dream, and shook him. Hawkeye sat up: the reality of being in the army, in the midst of horrors, in a shared tent in the middle of a war zone, caught him breathless. Radar had backed off to a safe distance. "Uh, sir?"

"What the hell?"

"Good morning, sir, and the Colonel wants to see all of you sirs in his office on the double and bring whatever it was you bought in Seoul with you."

"What?" Hawkeye blinked. Across the tent in the spare bunk the man was curled up unmoving.

"What was it you bought in Seoul that got him so upset?"

Hawkeye pointed. Radar turned round. He spun back again. "It's a guy!"

"Yes," Hawkeye said. "Now wake up Trapper."

"Why me?"

"It's your job."

"He growls at me when I wake him."

"Better you than me." Hawkeye stood up. He'd fallen into bed in his shirt and shorts last night. His bathrobe was hanging on the hook by the stovepipe. He shrugged it on and dug in his footlocker for fairly clean pants and shirt. Trapper was waking behind him with the usual struggles and curses. The man never stirred.

Hawkeye went over to the spare bunk and dropped the clothes on it. "I happen to know you're awake," he said.

The man didn't stir.

"No, really, you're either awake or dead, and I can see you breathing. No one can sleep through Trapper waking up. Not even Trapper."

The man sat up. He was still clutching Hawkeye's jacket around him.

"I wondered where that was," Hawkeye said. "Come on, get that off and get into these. They won't fit, but it's the best we can do in the next five minutes."

Midway through reclothing himself, the man looked up and froze. Following the direction of his gaze, Hawkeye saw nothing worse than Radar, standing wide-eyed and staring. "Get on with it. Radar's harmless. Aren't you?"

"He knows me," Radar whispered.

"What?"

Radar shook his head and backed out rapidly. Trapper was sitting up, scratching his head vigorously. "Why does the Colonel want to see me? What did I have to do with it? I didn't even agree to lend you the money."

"Silence gives consent," Hawkeye said brightly.

"What does gurgle slurp gulp give?" Trapper asked.

"Satisfaction," Hawkeye said, grinning.

Trapper threw his pillow at him.


"I really don't see what this has to do with me," Winchester protested. "I never even went into the tawdry place."

"It's a good place," Burns contradicted. He looked pasty-white: hangovers never improved him.

"It's okay for a quickie," Trapper said. "Which is probably why Frank likes it."

"You shut up," Burns snarled, feebly.

"It stank," Hawkeye said.

"It's very clean," Burns said.

Hawkeye bared his teeth at Burns. "How would you know?"

Radar opened the office door. "The Colonel wants to see you now, sirs."

"Okay." Hawkeye left the man leaning up against a filing cabinet. "Just stay there."

There were folding chairs used for staff meetings: but they were still stacked at the far side of the room. The Colonel was sitting behind his desk, looking grim. He nearly always looked grim. Trapper and Hawkeye had speculated whether it was the job or the beard.

"One of you came back with an unauthorised purchase of native personnel last night," he said.

Hawkeye stepped forward.

The Colonel's face didn't change. "Pierce. I might have known."

"Well, except that I didn't buy a native, he's an American. And it wasn't unauthorised. And we all came back with him."

"Anything else?"

"And it wasn't last night, it was this morning."

"Where is he?"

The door opened. Radar pushed the man inside. He stood in the ill-fitting uniform and stared at the Colonel: he had the same fearful look on his face that he had worn last night. This time it was probably justified.

"Where did you get the money to buy this?" the Colonel asked after a moment.

"He borrowed it," Winchester said with a snort.

"I asked Pierce."

"I borrowed it," Hawkeye admitted.

"And exactly how was this purchase authorised?"

"I never said it was," Hawkeye said. "But it wasn't unauthorised either. No one ever said I couldn't buy a lost American and take him back to base with me."

"And were any of the other officers involved?"

"We were not," Winchester said, with a snort.

"Who did Pierce borrow the money from?"

Hawkeye glanced at Winchester, and saw him twitch. The Colonel said, in an icy voice, "That had better not have been a grin on your face, Pierce."

"Me, sir? No, sir."

"Burns, did you have anything to do with this?"

"No, of course not! I told Pierce he would get into trouble for this."

"Why didn't you stop him, then? You're senior."

"He was plastered," Trapper said.

"I was not!"

"You were practically falling over, Frank."

"He spent half the trip home groping the man's ass in his sleep," Hawkeye offered.

Trapper laughed, and even Winchester's snort sounded a little more amused than otherwise. The Colonel didn't so much as smirk, not even when Burns squawked "I did not!"

"What makes you think this man's American?"

Hawkeye turned round again and looked at the man. "Well, he's obviously not Korean. And he sounds American. Say something," he instructed the man.

"Something," the man said, after a moment, in a small voice.

Hawkeye whooped with laughter: Trapper joined him. The Colonel slammed his hands down on the desk. "Pierce, did you put him up to this?"

"No," Hawkeye said, between whoops. "No, he thought that up - all by himself."

"You. Come over here."

After a moment's pause, the man walked over steadily. He stopped within two feet of the desk. The Colonel waved him closer, stood up, and impatiently caught at his head, bending it to look at the nape. The man flinched, but didn't struggle.

"He's a slave."

"So? I manumit him, send him home, and he can pay me back out of his pocket money. I'd like to do that. I never manumitted anyone before, and it sounds like fun."

There was a pause. "You know, that actually sounds like sense, Pierce," the Colonel said. "A rather expensive hobby for you, of course. Would the rest of you officers leave?" His hand was still on the man's neck: he added, with a sudden cruel jerk, "Now, why would you have supposed I meant you?"

Hawkeye folded his hands together behind his back.

"Go send O'Reilly on an errand, Pierce."

Radar had backed off from the door a few feet: his hair was still ruffled where he had pressed up against the door.

"You heard the Colonel," Hawkeye said. "Buzz off." He watched Radar go out, and closed the door firmly.

"Why did you do it?"

"I was drunk."

"Try again." The Colonel was smiling, his teeth showing white in his bearded face.

Hawkeye hesitated. "You're not going to believe me."

"That's possible." The Colonel's hand moved again. The man jerked. He made no sound. "Bear in mind that if I decide you're wasting my time, you will have wasted your money." His hand moved a third time.

"BJ, for God's sake - "

It was the man who had spoken, his voice a wail of pain. The Colonel shoved him down on to his knees and stared at Hawkeye, looking genuinely angry - and startled.

"What have you been teaching him?"

"Nothing," Hawkeye protested. "What I was just going to tell you was he used my nickname. He talked to me like he knew me. Radar said he knew him."

"Radar said he knew this man?"

"No, Radar said this man knew Radar. Anyway, that's why I bought him."

"Because he knew Radar?"

Hawkeye was edging forward. "No, because he knew I'm Hawkeye. I mean, my nickname is Hawkeye. Like he knows your initials."

"You expect me to believe this?"

Hawkeye reached down, caught at the man's wrist, and pulled him out of the way. He came up in a kind of cooperative scramble and clutched at Hawkeye's arm.

"Sure. No. But would I make something this crazy up?"

The Colonel was frowning. "Pierce, you're the best cutter we've got. You're a good chief surgeon. You're also crazy as a loon, and you've got away with it so far because we also have the highest efficiency rating of any MATH unit in Korea. But you can't get away with it forever. If this is one of your jokes, tell me now, because I'm warning you, if this is a joke, either you tell me now - or I will have you demoted and transferred to a front line unit."

"No joke, Colonel." Hawkeye thought about it. "At least, not as far as I know. I wondered if it was Trapper."

"Haven't you tried to find out?"

Hawkeye shrugged. "When have I had time? Besides, I prefer not to mix business with pleasure." He looked at the man. "How did you know what my nickname is?"

The man said, very diffidently, "I'm sorry, I'm not sure I can explain."

"I think you'd better find a way," the Colonel said.

"But I don't understand it myself. And I'm not sure I believe it. But you're BJ Hunnicut, aren't you?"

"Colonel Hunnicut, sir," Hawkeye said, half-amused, and pulled the man a little further back.

"Hawkeye - "

"And how do you know I'm Hawkeye?"

"Benjamin Franklin Pierce," the man said. "You always said Hawkeye was from The Last of the Mohicans. Your father's favourite book."

"He always said it?" The Colonel actually sounded amused. "When did you always say this, Pierce?"

Hawkeye shrugged. "Never in Korea. I said it to a few people at college. When did I 'always say this'?"

"When we both served at the 4077th MATH unit," the man said. Momentarily, he lisped. "You're chief surgeon. I'm chaplain."

Hawkeye looked at the Colonel. "Do we have a chaplain here? No one ever told me we had a chaplain."

"You. Are you claiming to be a priest?"

"I am a priest."

Hawkeye laughed, unexpectedly tickled.

The Colonel glanced at him. "I take it he's not."

"I've seen all of him," Hawkeye said. He was still amused. "He's no priest. Never been dedicated. Not a mark on him."

"Are you claiming to be an American?"

The man had been looking at Hawkeye, but he swung round to look at the Colonel. "Yes," he said.

"Do you have any evidence?"

The man looked helplessly at Hawkeye, who shrugged. "I couldn't even get a sheet to wrap him, let alone a passport. But he's American."

"If you can't prove that, you can't manumit him. And if you can't manumit him, what are you going to do with him?"

Hawkeye grinned. "I'll think of something. In fact, I already have thought of something." He pulled the man closer, tucking his arm firmly round the man's shoulders. "Maybe several somethings."

"If I let you keep a slave, I have no reason not to let Captain McIntyre and Majors Winchester and Burns keep slaves too. And then there's Major Houlihan. And frankly, Pierce, I don't want four more slaves on this base. I don't think I even want one. So either you get rid of him, or I do."

"Well, give me a chance. There's got to be some method of proving he's American."

"If there is, the army has a form for it. Ask Radar."

"Can I keep him till we get it sorted out?"

"Can you fit him into a rabbit hutch?"

"If I can find a big enough rabbit." Hawkeye turned around and made for the door, tugging the man along with him.

"Pierce."

Hawkeye turned. The Colonel was sitting with his hands together, and he looked more than usually implacable.

"To avoid any suggestion of favouritism, you may transfer your property rights in that man to me."

"Oh." Hawkeye stopped. He felt the man pressing closer to him, as if he were trying to burrow under his arm. He let go and turned round, stepping slightly sideways. "Got any other suggestions how I can avoid suggestions?"

"That wasn't a suggestion, Pierce, that was an order. Speak to Radar about it: the army does have a form for that. But you can keep him in the Swamp - or a large rabbit hutch, for all I care. He will be my property, and his services - any of his services - are to be available to all the commissioned officers in the camp. Just make sure he stays clean, is fed regularly, and find something for him to wear that fits."

"Oh."

"Now get out of here."

TBC...

To part 3