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[notinflictthem]

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Scrap of paper tacked to the bottom of Hawkeye's 'business hours' sign

[theydrewfirstblood]

[Yes, John heard this at the shops when he was inquiring about work. Yes, he thought of Hawkeye. Because he knows Hawkeye.]

The strangest kind of table is the onion.

Think it's not a table? You're wrong.

It's a vegetable.

[notinflictthem]

A letter is left at the Oak and Iron for Rambo.

When's a door not a door?

When it's a jar!

And there's a little drawing of a jar with a door on the label, for good measure.

[theydrewfirstblood]

This time there's a letter shoved under the clinic door.

What did the elephant say to the naked man?

“How do you breathe through that thing?”

Bonus: there's an accompanying doodle of an elephant from behind--only he's standing on his hind legs, and he's wearing a trenchcoat that he's holding open like a flasher exposing himself.

Before the Dream

[tisnotthehouse]

[A letter delivered by post reads --]

Dr. Pierce,

As one of Pumpkin Hollow's full-time physicians, you are entitled to receive a fully operational radio transmitter and receiver set, designed by myself. As thanks for your all assistance this winter, I am also willing to waive the installation fee.

To receive your radio, simply reply to this letter or call to make an installation appointment, and I will move you to the top of the priority list. If for some reason you do not want a radio, please notify me by post and I will take you off the list. Thank you.

Tarantulas

[notinflictthem]

[ Shortly after receiving the letter, Hawkeye makes that call. ]

Hey- is this Tarantula? I'm calling about that radio you mentioned- really decent of you to nix the fee on the install- I'll be at the clinic for the rest of the day, swing by when you have a minute.

[tisnotthehouse]

This is Tarantulas, yes. I'll come by this afternoon, then. If you're planning to see any patients today, I'd recommend keeping them away from the room where you want the radio. We wouldn't anyone to be...disturbed.

[Because he's a big spider, you see. Let us hope none of Pierce's patients are terribly arachnophobic.]

[In any case Tarantulas will turn up at Hawkeye's door in his furry winter coat, oddly unbowed by the large canvas bag full of radio parts and tools he brought with him. Looks like he's pretty strong, for such a little guy.]

around the 18th

[lovethyneighb_or]

Mulcahy wakes up in the early hours feeling like—well, not to put too fine a point on it, like a jeep ran over his nose and backed up again.

He eases into sitting where he is on the couch, hacking a cough immediately into his elbow as his scratchy throat shifts. He puts the back of his hand to his forehead just to see how it feels. The scratchiness of his clothes against his skin isn’t promising.

… Oh, he really hopes this doesn’t last too long.

[notinflictthem]

Hawkeye is... up in the kitchen already?

What time is it?

"Morning sleeping beauty!" he calls from where he's making them porridge, "You feeling alright? I think I've heard the generator making that noise after a shelling."

[lovethyneighb_or]

It isn’t surprising to Mulcahy at all, at least. The terrible hours they used to keep on the ship are uncountable.

“My nose certainly isn’t. There aren’t tire treads on my face, are there?” he grumbles, reaching blearily for his glasses before he wraps the blanket around his shoulders. He sounds terrible.

“Maybe I ought to move downstairs. I shouldn’t foul up your living room.”

stag beetle.

[abhorrently]

There's a knock on his cabin door at night - hopefully, there's no one else in there she's also waking up. But in a panic like this, she doesn't know what to do, apart from head to the cabin that she had figured out from a less than obvious inclination to keep an eye on anyone she might call a friend here. She doesn't know where Anders is - magical healing would be ideal, but from the last ship she was on, if she just starts hollering for him, that would turn pretty much everyone in these halls against her. She needs a doctor, because her ordinary methods of handling it aren't going to cut it this time. Her hand is pressed to her shoulder, keeping steady pressure to choke the bloodloss.

Another knock. Please, be in there - she won't know what else to do.

[notinflictthem]

The first knock rouses him. The second actually stirs him enough to get him up, blanket still wrapped around him, grumbling.

"Someone better be dying," he calls, opening the door a few seconds-

Ah crud.

"My bed, now, and not just because you're gorgeous," he says entirely too quickly, discarding the blanket and going to get his med kit.

june.

[abhorrently]

Hi, Hawkeye. I know we talked about perhaps meeting up later, but I might not be able to make it.

[she sounds...worn down. a little hoarse, and there's a muffled cough - she turned away for it.]

It's stupid, I'm fine, but I've got one of my headaches and it's not budging.

[notinflictthem]

[ Ah, a cough and a hoarse throat, tell-tale signs of someone who's fine. Hawk quietly wishes this phone had a damn cable as he glances towards his doctor's bag by the door. ]

You at home? I can come by, bring you something for the headache?

july-ish (mash s3 spoilers throughout)

[incomingchoppers]

Over at Town Hall -- and now at Miss Leeds' place, too, since he came on board as her personal assistant -- Radar's already got a reputation as The Guy Who Never Takes Breaks. He'll work straight through the whole day unless someone bodily shoves him out the door, he'll try to sneak bundles of paperwork home if nobody's paying attention, and most of his weekends he's over at Baker Ranch helping Mr. Rambo get the farm in shape.

And maybe, just like back in Korea, some of that's by design. Keep busy, work hard, and you don't have too much time to think about other stuff.

Like how sooner or later, he and Father Mulcahy have to sit Hawkeye down and tell him about Colonel Blake.

Sooner or later has finally turned into now; the pair stand outside the clinic, Radar with his hands shoved deep in his pockets so he doesn't fidget as he stares up at the second-floor windows. This was his idea, he scolds himself. He can't chicken out. He's gotta do it for Colonel Blake.

[lovethyneighb_or]

Mulcahy isn't quite as nimble as Radar is with work, but he still keeps busy; it's a terrific distraction, and the discipline of the Army doesn't leave you easily. Civilian life in a real world is frankly the closest thing to life in the military as he's had in ages, which only tells him how strange the last few years of his life have been. It's a slightly distressing thought, but it also means that it's over. There's work to do and people to help. Especially when dying takes you out for a whole day.

He doesn't want to do this. He knows what it looks like for Hawkeye's heart to be skewered like a bird, for his sorrow to burn like a fire in the pit of his chest, for the bird to be turned on the spit. Mulcahy knows how it feels for that to be his fault.

There's nothing else for him to do, though. This is it. The shame of it is that it took so long. So long, and that he's had to go and drag Radar into it too, but neither of them are strong enough to do it alone. Pity that nothing Mulcahy's been through made him strong enough.

... He's got to stop going into conversations with a mindset like this. They'll be fine.

He's brought coffee and snacks on a tray. Mulcahy's house is separated from the clinic by an alleyway about four feet wide, so it's a very short trip. Knocking on the door, he calls up, "Hawkeye? Are you home? Do you have a minute? Radar and I have something quite important to discuss."

Mid-July

[sunshinesally]

On a slow day for the apothecary, Sally drops by Hawkeye's clinic with a box of the usual supplies she gives him for work--- but also with a letter in an envelope.

"Hawk! Is the doctor in?" He's gonna have to open the door for her--- even with Gwen at home with Arthur, she's still got too much shit in her hands to try and open it herself, or risk getting a leg involved and potentially dropping glass bottles.

[notinflictthem]

"I can check in the back for you but I think he chewed his way through the back door," Hawk offers, opening the door and immediately making himself useful, trying to take some of the things off her hands.

"How've you been, Sal? That letter for me or are we going to hold it up to the window and snoop on it?"

givingstide.

[abhorrently]

There's a small, square box for Hawkeye, after he's been dispensing the holiday magic and cheer. No giver's name on the outside, so he'll have to open it to see what it is.

Nestled inside is a watch on a leather band, smoothly ticking away, and a note.

When winding, turn until you can't easily do so anymore. Every other day at minimum, once a day for best results. I promised I'd relay these instructions.
Happy Givingstide.

-F

[notinflictthem]

Oh hey, it has a seconds hand, that's... really thoughtful. Hawk can be seen wearing it on his wrist for the rest of the night, and whenever Fever sees him after.

Fever in turn will find a box with her name on it, with a janky looking knitted cat inside. Opening the box will reveal the smell of lavender, and the cat scrunches like it's full of dried herbs if squished. No note inside. Hawk had one written, but 'for when I can't be in your bed' seemed like a sentiment he doesn't want to try and navigate now.

givingstide

[goodweather]

Booze gets packed into boxes of certain shape, so it's not too much surprise when opening this one reveals a bottle of some very, very nice wine. Also sort of floating around in there is a red origami flower, and a couple of paper cards: one is a coupon to make his favorite food for him, regardless of how much of a pain in the ass it is to make. The second is an indefinite excuse for Hawkeye to summon him overnight, if he's free.

Enjoy by yourself or with friends. Or with lovers. Happy Givingstide.
- Phil

[notinflictthem]

In turn, Phil gets a strangely shaped package that opens to reveal a little nicely carved wall-mounted barometer. The card reads "for your days off. -Hawk."

There's also a redeemable coupon on the back of the card for Hawk to take the kids fishing or something similar to give Phil some time to himself.

givingstide

[lovethyneighb_or]

The box says open me soon, and the reason is pretty obvious: inside is a slightly misshapen but wonderful smelling pie. Pumpkin. Also packed in the box next to the pie tin is a matching cap and gloves, simply woven but very warm-looking, both red. And a nice bar of soap wrapped in a bit of paper, and a jar of jam. There's lot of loose bobs in this.

Merry Christmas and happy Givingstide!
- Mulcahy

[notinflictthem]

Aww. Mulcahy was always good at giving from the heart. The pie is eaten, the soap is used, the jar is spread on his toast, and the cap and gloves are worn on cold days out.

Hawk in turn leaves Mulcahy a hatbox and a shoe box. The hat is the kind of Panama hat that Mulcahy likes to wear, and the shoe box contains a pair similar to Mulcahy's regular boots, but of a nicer quality and more durable. Hawk grew up in the Depression, he knows that sometimes the best gift is not having to worry about replacing something important.

The card reads-

For being a good boy this year.

Santa.

february.

[abhorrently]

It's a call in the later hours, after the clinic's closed. Things aren't so serious that she can't wait until then.

"I tried to think of a more clever way to say this, but couldn't manage. Do you have enough on your plate, or can I come over and complain in good company for a bit?"

Trying, as she has been since he was honest with her - trying to let him be a friend, to help when things are difficult, instead of bottling it up and putting it back on her own shoulders. Trying to be honest when she needs help, instead of suffocating it under fixing everyone else's problems. But the nightmares have taken a toll on the entire town, so it's fair to ask, and not just barrel right in.

[notinflictthem]

"Fee, I'm never doing so bad that I can't listen to someone kvetch. Come over, you know where I am."

What's another weird round of nightmares in this place, after all, this isn't even his second rodeo at this point. Fever can help him work through some gin, and they can talk, and Hawk can decide closer to the time if they're going to talk about Fever's intrusion in his dreams.