#and ivy knows that and cuz !! this woman already brought her to mind and now this it makes her remember | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

angryhausfrau-writes · 4 years ago

Text

You Can’t Cross the Same River Twice - Chapter 9

Their little corner of Boston has become something of a way station for various East Coast members of the 4077. And perhaps it makes sense - Hawkeye Pierce, degenerate though he is, has always been the heart and soul of the MASH. Even as changed as he'd been at the end of the war, he'd spent every breath taking care of the people there. Charles had been so wrapped up in his own petty little problems - his appointment at Boston Mercy, his squabbles with Margaret - that he hadn't really appreciated it at the time. But now, with the clarity of distance - and the help of, ugh, a psychiatrist - he can admit to himself - if no one else - that Pierce is a large part of why he came out of the war as well adjusted as he had.

Pierce is also why he's able to return to civilian life so easily. For all that Charles has been raised - been bred with the very fortitude and inclination required - to head a prestigious department at the preeminent hospital in the United States - if not the world - it has been a.. transition.. to return to his old life. Honoria is just as sweet and wonderful and mischievous as ever - and Charles makes a note that she and Pierce must never meet, lest society as he knows it crumble - but mother and father are perhaps more aloof and distant than he remembers. Concerned more with how he goes on to represent the family - as he is now several years behind schedule in running thoracic at Boston Mercy and, more importantly, at finding a suitable Mrs. Charles Emerson Winchester III and providing the requisite Charles Emerson Winchester IV - than with how he, Charles, is faring. He finds himself missing the camaraderie of the MASH unit - as stifling as it had been at the time. But now that much of his social obligation requires talking politics with the interminable stuffed shirts at his club or dancing with icy, calculating debutantes - stiffly formal beneath a veneer of feminine charm, sizing Charles, and more importantly, the Winchester fortune, up against their ambitions - Charles finds himself living for the evenings of raucous, lower-class fun with the other remnants of the Korean war.

Even that lout McIntyre.

Because, despite all his deficiencies, he's a good surgeon - and an Ivy Leaguer, even if he schooled in the wilds of New Hampshire rather than the beacon of civilization that is Boston. He, Charles has found, also has a surprisingly sly sense of humor hidden behind that bluff, working-man exterior. He helps balance out Pierce's more.. fanciful nature. And living with McIntyre seems to be doing Pierce a world of good. He's back to telling jokes and stories at a mile a minute, but he also listens to other people's stories for more than just material with which to make a snappy retort. Pierce is also missing the desperate, manic edge he'd acquired towards the end of the war. He's more stable, more settled in his skin with McIntyre's hand clapped on his shoulder.

All of this makes Charles wish he had someone in his life who could understand him so well as Pierce and McIntyre seem to understand each other - bound as they are by a brotherhood forged in war. Charles wishes for someone who could stand as his equal - know him and be known. He feels so distant from the class of people he left behind. In the face of war, why worry about petty posturing - particularly when he is so obviously superior to the rest of the muck and mud surrounding him. But here, presentation is all that matters. The facade becomes the foundation for one's entire existence. And there are tens of others with the same - or at least similar - breeding and wealth and status. How is he to find someone who is both suitable to his family and satisfactory to himself? It makes Charles long for the hours he spends at that quaint little pub with the other flotsam and jetsam of Korea. And it makes him a bit.. jealous - there he admits it - when Margaret comes to visit and she deigns to stay with those degenerates Pierce and McIntyre rather than in the well-appointed guest wing of his home in Back Bay.

Margaret "Hot Lips" Houlihan is coming to visit and Trapper is worried. Both for the state of his jaw - Margaret has a right hook like a freight train and an inclination to use it - and for his opinion of himself. Cuz, see, he's done and said a lot of shitty things to Margaret Houlihan. Largely as a consequence of doing and saying them to Frank Burns. But he can admit now that a lot of what he and Hawkeye ragged on her for had more to do with her being an attractive woman who wouldn't sleep with them than her actual despicable beliefs and actions. Which have apparently got a lot less despicable in the years without Frank's influence. But Hawkeye's had those years to stumble into a genuine friendship with Margaret and all Trapper has is over a year's worth of enmity with Hot Lips. So he gets ready to grovel.

And it's a good thing, too. Cuz he comes home to Hawkeye and Margaret crying with laughter over something and as soon as he closes the front door, they just stop dead. Silent. Margaret's gaze pierces him to his very soul. But this means a lot, to him and Hawkeye both. So Trapper holds out a hand.

"John McIntyre, pleased to meet you."

Margaret's face is stone and Trapper prepares to hightail it outta there. But then she smiles and shakes his hand.

"Margaret Houlihan. And likewise."

"I know this don't erase the past," Trapper says once they've all sat down in the living room. "But I figure I've changed a fair bit over the years and I'm sorry for how I used to treat you. I hope we can get to know each other how we are now."

Margaret considers this. And Trapper ain't ashamed to admit he squirms a little under her assessing gaze. After what feels like an eternity, she must figure he's genuinely repentant cuz she says, "Apology accepted." And that's the end of that.

Later, they're all crammed together on the sofa after dinner, Hawkeye knitting and Trapper and Margaret drinking some of the good Scotch she brought along as a hostess gift. Margaret's telling all about the work she's doing at Fort Dix - it sounds like she's pretty much running the nursing staff already and like it won't be too long before she's got the whole hospital marching to her orders. It's fun. He wouldn't say they're friends yet, but Trapper thinks they could be.

Then Hawkeye asks, "So has any dashing Lieutenant Colonel or better caught your eye?" And Trapper is reminded of Margaret's own failed marriage to some dick who ran off to San Francisco rather than end things face to face. He's glad he was able to patch things up so well cuz Margaret's angry retribution is still clearly at the front of all their minds.

Margaret's smile is sharp. "No new Donald Penobscotts, no. Not that I haven't had a few flings here or there."

"Does a body good," is Hawkeye's two cents. "Not that I've had a lot of those lately." He glances meaningfully at Trapper.

And Trapper's a little confused at how overt he's being around Margaret Houlihan, of all people.

But then she says, "I've actually gotten back in touch with an old nursing school friend - she was nice enough to offer to be roommates so I wouldn't have to live on base."

And oh. Oh. He looks at Hawkeye to make sure he's reading this right.

"It's sure nice to settle down someplace after so long in an army camp," Trapper says. There. That can be taken all kindsa ways.

"I never thought it would happen to me. But I'm actually thinking of buying a house, if you can believe it. I have all that money I'd saved up for Penobscott," Margaret sneers his name. "And with two working women to pay the mortgage..."

"A Boston marriage," Trapper blurts, struck by the aptness. So much for subtlety.

Hawkeye laughs. "A Boston marriage transplanted right in Jersey. Is that why you came up to visit? To get some tips?" He's teasing but the idea that it's out in the open now. That they don't have to pussy foot around it anymore. That they share this thread of commonality. It's nice.

"I just came for the poker game, same as everyone else. But it's nice to catch up in person. Letters just can't say as much." Margaret smiles warmly. And it's not an expression Trapper's ever seen her wear, but it's a nice one.

And he's got all day Thursday to see it again. To get to know this new Margaret Houlihan.

Charles is.. miffed. It's poker night and he has two unwanted hangers-on in the form of old school chums - he sneers the word, even internally - who demanded his presence that evening. And when Charles had begged previous social obligations, they'd simply invited themselves along. Despite their breeding, some people simply have no class.

So now the two gentlemen are staring around the pub with twin looks of undisguised contempt. Completely unwarranted as, while the place is small and humble and full of working-class folk, it's clean and comfortable and homey. And after one has spent years in a flea-infested pit, one learns to appreciate that sort of thing.

Things get even worse when Charles chivvies them into the back room and they are confronted with Pierce, McIntyre, Houlihan, and Nurse Freeman. While none of them are the sort a Winchester usually associates with, they're all fine individuals and competent medical professionals, deserving of recognition and respect. Certainly not targets for the insipid sneering of Hampton and Smythe, who are asking if this is really how Charles spends his evenings.

McIntyre gets a look on his face that spells trouble. It's the look he wears when he goes toe to toe with Charles - and occasionally, Westham. The look he wears right before turning the natural order right on its head. And Pierce will follow him to the ends of the earth, especially in righteous vengeance. And Margaret has never been one to be condescended to. So Charles directs his two social albatross to the table in the vain hope that any carnage will be relegated to the cards.

"Now, we usually play a friendly sorta game," McIntyre starts the opening volley.

"But with two such distinguished gentlemen in our midst," Pierce continues, "surely we can't just play for peanuts."

Nurse Freeman starts shuffling the deck and Charles has never seen her look so regal. "I stand as the house tonight. Five card stud. One hundred dollar buy in." Her smile is like a knife. "All non-cash collateral must be verifiable and accepted by all players."

His fate is sealed. Charles wants to weep. They are absolutely going to run him and these socially inept simpletons into the ground. He looks to Margaret for compassion, but finds none. She always was the vengeful type. Charles only hopes that his friendship with those about to ruin his life stays their hands enough that he can still leave with the shirt on his back.

The game is absolutely brutal. Margaret, Pierce, and McIntyre aren't exactly winning pocket change, but the house - the house is what will drive him to financial ruin. And the entire nature of the game has changed. No one of the four is playing to win. They're playing to make Charles and his two idiot companions lose. The two idiots who are too stupid to realize what is happening and bow out.

Although, the amount they're drinking may have something to do with it. Before the game had properly started, McIntyre brought out a bottle. And while he, Margaret, and Nurse Freeman all have a glass - they're untouched. The three of them, plus Pierce, are sober as judges while Hampton and Smythe are acting like it's their last chance at revelry before entering the priesthood. The game is an unmitigated bloodbath.

By nine o'clock, Charles and the other two victims have moved from cash to physical collateral.

By ten o'clock, the pot has grown so large that they've moved to paper IOU's.

And, in what - mercifully - turns out to be the final hand, the house actually forms a board of trustees - consisting of herself and Pierce - to accept the endowment promised by Charles, Hampton, and Smythe in a legally binding document - written on a napkin, but still properly signed by all parties and witnessed by a gleeful McIntyre - made out to the South End clinic. At this point, thank God, Hampton and Smythe seem to realize they've made a terrible mistake and agree to end the game, sneaking off with their tails between their legs. Nurse Freeman watches them go with an expression of utmost satisfaction.

Still, it could have been worse. The Winchesters do only occasionally engage in philanthropy - usually as a.. creative tax write off - but it's for a good cause. And Pierce looks overjoyed as he kisses his compatriots on the cheeks - McIntyre slightly awkwardly, as if they're not quite sure where to aim, but then McIntyre isn't exactly a cosmopolitan - he's probably never even been to Europe. Then Pierce rounds on Charles. But he just shakes his hand exuberantly - like he's pumping water from a well - and thanks him for his contributions to medicine and the public good. It almost feels sincere.

"Don't look so glum, Winchester," McIntyre admonishes. "You can tell your folks you did it to keep the riff-raff outta Boston Mercy."

Charles laughs despite himself. "You know, that may very well work. And at least I know those two bumbling buffoons will never impose themselves on me again."

"I'll drink to that," Pierce says, raising his Shirley Temple.

And then it becomes just like their normal poker nights - with the welcome addition of Margaret, of course, who seems in exceptionally good spirits despite having resided with Pierce and McIntyre for an entire day. It's a night of silliness and witty - or not so witty - banter and camaraderie.

Charles really feels quite fortunate, despite everything.

#mash #piercintyre #fanfic archive #you can't cross the same river twice #chapter 9

0 notes