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ladypepperofdavenshire · 7 years ago

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“I hope you realize that I’m still against everything about this. I’m only here because you asked me to come.”

Mr. Haddock sat on the opposite side of the carriage, thrumming his fingers on the windowsill. He looked at Isolde with those piercing amber eyes, returned his gaze to the bouncing landscape outside.

“Just be grateful I didn’t spoil your plans and tell your mother,” Isolde muttered. Mr. Haddock huffed a sigh, causing a momentary foggy circle to appear on the pane. They had come to something of a truce after Isolde went off to think the day Mr. Haddock told her his motives behind accepting Sir Drexel’s challenge. Isolde dropped the subject and restrained from interfering on her end, and Mr. Haddock avoided anything having to do with the duel in conversation around her. Evans had been brought into the secret, and had himself requested that he be Mr. Haddock’s Second in the fight. He rode on the box with the driver, who had also been sworn to secrecy. Isolde grew fidgety as the carriage turned into the woods. They were three towns away from Broadburn, headed in the direction of the Haddock’s hunting lodge, which lent some half-truth to Haddock’s lie to his mother.

This was where Sir Drexel and Mr. Haddock had agreed upon as the staging grounds for their duel. The wheels grated against dead leaves that littered the forest floor, shafts of golden autumnal sunlight peeking through the trees’ canopy. Isolde’s nervousness intensified. Mr. Haddock, on the other hand, seemed as calm as could be. She didn’t really think he could be so cool about this whole ordeal. Not when Sir Drexel was involved. Her fear of Sir Drexel had turned to cold hate as events played out; only part of her reason for coming was because Mr. Haddock asked if she would be there. The other reason was in hopes that he’d shoot Sir Drexel dead. Isolde heard echoing voices from outside of the carriage. She espied the sandy head of Sir Drexel glinting in the light amidst a crowd of well-dressed men. She made an angry noise, of which Mr. Haddock took notice. Before he could say anything, the carriage lurched to a stop and Evans was at the door.

“We’re here, Sir.” Mr. Haddock jumped down from the carriage and barred Isolde’s way with his arm.

“I’d prefer it if you remain inside the carriage. This isn’t something a woman should see.”

Isolde frowned down at him. After all the trust the two of them had built up, this was how he treated her!

“Why? Do you think I’ll faint at the smallest hint of blood?” she shot back. “You do realize I’ve seen worse; you get used to that sort of thing when your father is a tanner.”

“Yes, you’ve told me that a dozen times over, but I would prefer it if you stayed here,” Mr. Haddock replied, a tone of finality in his voice. Isolde returned his glare with her own.

“If you insist,” she muttered, sinking back into her seat.

“Thank you, Miss Marlowe,” Mr. Haddock said, and shut the door.

Haddock straightened his jacket and together with Evans, strode over to the area where Sir Drexel and his followers were mingling. Sir Drexel wore the same smug look he had after slapping Haddock in the face with his glove. He raised a thin eyebrow.

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come, Haddock.”

“And I thought you might swiftly leave town again, Drexel,” Haddock returned in the same tone. Sir Drexel’s false smile widened as he narrowed his eyes.

“Where’s Miss Marlowe? Did that doxy leave you for another man too?” Haddock held his fists in check. You’ll get a chance to shoot him in a few minutes anyways.

“Where’s the pistols?” he asked instead. Sir Drexel snapped his fingers and a meek little man in indigo livery scuttled over with a wooden box. The man opened the lid, revealing twin flintlock pistols resting on a velvet cushion. Haddock eyed them suspiciously. Sir Drexel barked a laugh.

“If you’re that mistrusting, why don’t you choose your weapon first, eh?”

“Fair enough,” Haddock said, and lifted the pistol on Sir Drexel’s side, all the while watching Sir Drexel’s face to see if he would betray any of his schemes. Sir Drexel’s sneer didn’t waver. He fished the other pistol out of the box and the liveried man snapped the lid shut and retreated from whence he came. Haddock handed his pistol over to Evans, who looked at it all over. He handed it back with a curt nod. Nothing irregular. When Haddock looked back up, another man had appeared at Sir Drexel’s side. He was dark-haired and rail-thin with deeply-pitted eyes that made Haddock think “criminal.”

“This is my Second, Vespa. He and your butler will decide how this duel should end.”

Haddock already discussed with Evans that he didn’t plan on holding back with Sir Drexel, so there was no need for this duel to be settled with first blood. Vespa held his hands folded in front of him, rubbing a large ring on his finger while studying Evans.

“How do you wish this fight to proceed, Signore?” the man asked. His voice was low and smooth. “Do the combatants cease after drawing first blood, when one falls, or to the death?”

Evans hesitated, seeming as if he was mulling the options over. He looked at Haddock with a slight questioning expression in his eyes, but Haddock kept his eyes fixed on Sir Drexel.

“To the death,” Evans said.

“So be it,” Vespa said. He said something in Italian to Sir Drexel, who laughed. Sir Drexel shed his coat and handed it to the thin man, who left to join the rest of the entourage. Haddock removed his coat as well and handed it to an expectant Evans. Evans took the coat, face void of emotion. He turned to leave, and with his back at Sir Drexel, gripped Haddock’s shoulder.

“Good luck, Sir,” he said and walked off to the side. Haddock held the gun with both hands, feeling its weight. He couldn’t tell if anything was off about it either. “Why the audience?”

“I promised my friends something exciting when I was last in London. I thought this would be more than satisfactory for them.”

Haddock’s extremities went cold. So this had been planned. Sir Drexel drew a few steps closer so that they were face to face. He pitched his voice low.

“I’ve been looking forward to this, Haddock. You better hope that your aim is as good as your handiness with your claws.”

He traced a long, crooked scar over the bridge of his nose. Haddock forced down the thing inside of him that wanted to fight Sir Drexel then and there with fists and nails.

“Ten paces,” he barked. Sir Drexel shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re only prolonging the inevitable.”

They both turned back to back.

“When this is over, I’m reclaiming what you stole from me,” the leering devil said under his breath.

“One,” Haddock said, taking a step. Sir Drexel followed suit. “…Two…three…four…five…six…seven…eight…nine…ten!”

Two shots split the serenity of the forest. Sir Drexel reeled backwards as blood sprayed from his shoulder and spattered over the dead leaves on the ground and his Second, a terrific howl erupting from his mouth. Haddock also jerked backwards. Something hot and burning had sunk itself into his chest. He exhaled deeply as the pain increased tenfold and let the pistol drop from his fingers. He felt warm, wetness blossoming from his chest. Haddock coughed and crumpled backwards like a ragdoll. The wound didn’t hurt so much as the bullet, which felt like a hot poker had been rammed through his ribcage. He stared up at the autumn canopy as he heard Evans running up to him, trampling dry leaves and sticks.

Haddock grit his teeth, knowing he shouldn’t have left the duty of bringing the dueling pistols to Sir Drexel. It had been a silver bullet loaded in the other’s gun. Haddock had only experienced this kind of pain before, when a savvy huntsman who had heard rumors of a werewolf in Broadurn’s parts had shot him in the arm while Haddock had been galloping across the moors during a full moon. He coughed and tasted metallic blood. Evans skidded to a halt on his left while Miss Marlowe sank down beside him on his right. Hadn’t he told her to stay in the carriage? She never listened. He tried to reprimand her but choked on blood. Evans was methodical as he assessed Haddock’s injury, ripping open his master’s vest and shirt, jaw tight. Miss Marlowe’s face was blanched as she watched Evans at work.

“Will he be all righ—?”

“Yes, if I can stop the bleeding and get that piece of metal out of him,” Evans replied coolly. He applied pressure to the wound.

“Call the carriage over, Miss Marlowe. We need to get Master Haddock to the hunting lodge where I can work.”

Miss Marlowe left Haddock’s field of vision, swift crunching footsteps headed in the carriage’s direction.

“If you don’t mind me speaking candidly, Sir,” Evans said quietly, “You were damn fool naïve to trust Sir Drexel. This bullet is silver.”

“So was his,” Haddock coughed. Evans’ eyebrows jumped up and he looked up. Raised voices and crackling underbrush were coming from Sir Drexel’s side as the wounded man continued to groan. Haddock stiffly twisted his head to see how the other combatant was faring. Sir Drexel was kneeling on the ground, face contorted in pain as he clutched a blood-soaked arm while Vespa and another man from his entourage gathered him up and deposited him in one of the party’s carriages. Vespa directed his face at Haddock and Evans, blinked his dark eyes, and mounted the carriage. The party began to leave in droves. “Cowards!” Evans hissed. The rumble of Haddock’s carriage sounded even louder with his ear mashed against the ground.

“Evans.”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Take Miss Marlowe back to her home after—”

Bloody saliva filled the back of his throat and he had to spit.

“Take her home after—”

“Yes, Sir.” The worry on Evans’s face was mingled with understanding. Haddock closed his eyes as his body gave a convulsive shudder. The driver leapt to the ground and helped Evans carry Haddock into the carriage.

Haddock’s impressions of the carriage ride to the lodge were fragmentary. Evans’s face cast in deep shadows while the vehicle bounded through the woods, the man’s white sleeves rolled up as his master’s fresh blood stained his hands and arms. Horses’ labored breathing. Speckled sunlight dancing across the windowpane. Thundering of the wheels. Miss Marlowe’s pale hands holding his head in her lap as she whispered a repeated prayer. Blackness.

#ladypepperofdavenshire #regency #haddock #malcolm haddock #isolde #isolde marlowe #werewolf #duel #sir drexel #evans #original characters #fantasy #haddock and isolde

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 5 years ago

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What’s Up Doc?: Part 1

AO3 Link

Hawkeye Pierce x OC (eventually), Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers

Summary: Captain O’Neil’s life has never been what one would call normal. Born to an affluent family, she was suppose to marry rich and have two and a half kids by the time she was twenty five. Instead, she went to med school, became an army nurse in one war and is now set to be a doctor in another. But the 4077th MASH unit has a habit of making people’s lives just a little crazier.

A/N: Consider this the first part of an episode before the first commercial break. And please, COMMENT AND REBLOG IF YOU LIKE THIS! I promise we’re going to get more of Liz in the later chapters.

Word Count: 3.5K

Just another day at the good ol’ 4077th M.A.S.H. unit. Which was to say, something was going seriously wrong and it wasn’t even noon.

Colonel Henry Blake had long since accepted this would be the norm since his first week as commanding officer. But that didn’t make only being able to catch every other word the General was saying any less frustrating.

“What’s that General,” he yelled into the phone. “I can’t quite hear you.”

“I--you--getting--Captain--”

The line went dead again.

“Radar!” Henry called. “There’s got to be a way to fix the connection.”

“No good, sir,” the corporal answered. “They’ve only got a few lines up because of the air raid.”

“Well can’t they hold the air raid until after I finish this call?”

“Colonel Blake?”

“Still here sir,” Henry replied. “Now can you give it to me one more time?”

“I said--sending--surgeon--O’Neil.”

Henry nodded still not getting it and turned to Radar. “You get that?”

“Yes, sir. The general is sending us a new surgeon, Captain O’Neil.”

“Well why didn’t he just say that,” Henry commented before turning back to the phone. “Boy howdy, sir! I can’t tell you how much we’d appreciate an extra pair of hands around here. Radar, have his papers come in?”

“Not yet sir. Mail’s been backed up--”

“Because of the raid,” they finished together.

“Of course it has,” Henry mumbled.

“Good--nurse--France--Drexel.”

“What?”

“General says the captain’s got a good service record,” Radar translated. “Served in France as a nurse in World War II and just graduated from Drexel.”

“Nurse?” Henry questioned before addressing Radar. “Should Klinger be worried?”

Radar gave something halfway between a shake of the head no and a noncommittal shrug, leaving the vague impression of “who’s to say”.

Henry waved him off and turned back to the receiver. “Listen General, I really can’t thank you enough. This O’Neil fella sounds exactly like the kind of guy we need.”

“Papers--tomorrow--nurses--.”

Henry shot Radar another look.

“He’ll be pulling in tomorrow with all the necessary papers,” Radar said. “And the general is also sending in some new nurses to round it off.”

“Tomorrow?” Henry said into the receiver. “Sir, I appreciate it, but we can’t...hello? Hello?”

But it was no use. The line was dead, for good this time.

“Damn it,” he cursed. There was nothing to be done. He let out a breath and allowed himself to chew on his cigar. “Well we best start preparing. Better--”

“Tell Major Houlihan about clearing space in the nurse’s tent and get a new cot for the Swamp,” he and Radar said together with Radar finishing with a “Yes, sir.”

“And, get Pierce, Burns, and McIntyre in here.” Henry added.

“Captains Pierce, McIntyre and Major Burns here to see you sir,” Radar replied.

“Well let them know it can wait, I have something important to tell them.”

“What’s up Henry,” Hawkeye asked as he and the two other doctors entered.

“Some actual good news for once,” Henry said, “command is finally allowing us to bring in another surgeon.”

“Hey, that’s terrific,” McIntyre exclaimed, making himself comfortable on the side of Henry’s desk.

“Is that really necessary,” Burns jumped in. “Surely the army doesn’t need to waste more man power.”

“Speak for yourself Frank,” Hawkeye said. “Personally, I’d like to have four surgeons here instead of three surgeons and a horse doctor.”

Frank let out a string indignant scoffs and mumbles to be promptly ignored by everyone.

“What unit are they coming from,” Trapper asked.

“No unit, straight from the states. General said he just graduated from Drexel.”

“Graduated?” Hawkeye said. The relieved expression shifted into obvious frustration. “Henry, they can’t send us a kid that green. We have wounded here, not cadavers.”

“At least before Frank gets to them,” Trapper added.

“Oh, don’t get huffy,” Henry protested. “For your information he served as a nurse in the last war.”

“Nurse? What’s wrong? Kid got flat feet and couldn’t join up?” Trapper asked.

“Was the kid actually a kid then?” Hawkeye continued.

“I don’t know,” Henry cut in. “All I know is what the general told me. Our new doctor might not be as experienced with a knife, but they’ve been around enough meatball surgery not to get squeamish and that’s more than what we can ask for in any other doctor we might get our way. In the meantime, Hawkeye, I’m assigning you to look after him and show him the ropes.”

“Me?”

“Colonel, now I really must protest,” Burns stepped in. “I am the ranking officer here. Do you really want this new recruit to be contaminated by these two...degenerates?”

“And what would you suggest Frank?” Henry asked, his exhaustion from being in the same room was Burns for more than a minute was becoming obvious.

“Well…” Frank said, making a point to stand a little straighter. “Let me be his mentor. I have the most experience, not to mention the military discipline a new recruit should aspire too.”

“All the more reason for us to look after him,” Hawkeye said. “Don’t worry about it Henry. Trapper and I will look after the kid.”

“He’ll be the son we’ve never had.”

“I don’t care what he is to you, so long as you don’t scare him off,” Henry said. “He’ll be arriving here tomorrow along with some new nurses. So, try not to get too distracted.”

“What do you take us for?” Hawkeye asked in mock offense. “We can break in the new kid and the new nurses at the same time.”

Trapper gave a crooked smile. “Provided he’s game.”

“Oh, that’s enough filth from the both of you,” Burns snapped.

“Shakespeare couldn’t have said it better,” Hawkeye replied dryly. “But on the subject of filth, with the flurry of new potential bunk mates coming in, it might be in our best interest to clear out some of our own.”

“Ah ma, do I have to?” Trapper protested.

“Now Trapper, if you don’t clean your room you won’t be allowed to play with your new toys.”

The two men left together with Burns not far behind, huffing and puffing all the way.

Henry shrugged it off, feeling a sudden wave of sympathy for the new recruit. The poor soul had no idea what he was in for.

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Trapper and Hawkeye made quick work of the Swamp. Or at least as much quick work as they were willing to put in. The new cot was placed in the back-corner right between McIntyre and Burns. It left little room for what the new captain might bring save maybe a tiny side table and a pencil.

The two of them made a point to clear a path to the bed and picked up their clothes just enough to see most of the floor. But, that was as far as they got before calling it good enough and breaking out a deck of cards.

“I don’t see how anyone can live under these conditions,” Burns lamented into his shaving mirror.

“You’re still breathing, aren’t you Frank,” Trapper shot back.

“I mean, I can,” Burns covered. “I’m made of stronger stuff. But this new Captain. He’s been living in a dorm room for the past how many years. He’s going to need help transitioning.”

“Henry said the kid was a nurse in France,” Hawkeye countered. “Between the European front and a medical dorm, Korea is going to look like a penthouse on Fifth Avenue.”

“Exactly,” Trapper affirmed. “We have everything a new recruit could want. Twenty-minute old gin, a family of rats living under his bed, and probably the same rations he had back in 1944.”

“Home sweet home.”

Burns scoffed, placing the razor to his face. “Really. No respect for volunteers.”

“What makes you think O’Neil is a volunteer?” Trapper asked.

“Oh, just a guess,” Burns said, in that passive aggressive, holier-than-thou tone that made Hawkeye’s teeth grind. “Someone like Captain O’Neil volunteers for his country in one war, it only makes sense he would for the next one. I bet he probably got his doctorate for just such a purpose.”

“Only if he got the sense knocked out of him in his first round,” Hawkeye said, dryly.

“Oh pish posh,” Burns spat. “I will not be having you ingrates drag Captain O’Neil’s good name through the mud.”

“Frank, we don’t even know enough of his name to drag it,” Hawkeye said. “Let’s just hold off the expectations until we actually meet the guy.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Trapper said clinking his martini glass with Hawkeye’s. However, he never got to finish the toast as the all too familiar sound of helicopters roared overhead.

“Attention all personnel. In coming wounded.”

The two doctors let out a sigh putting down their glasses and slapping their cards on the table.

“Well at least when the good doctor pulls in we’ll be all set for a proper 4077 greeting,” Hawkeye said. “Blood stained and exhausted.”

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The night in O.R. was rough. But then again, that was like saying the sky is blue or war is hell. A classic cliché that one might find redundant, but still important to remind yourself of every now and again. Because if one day the sky isn’t blue or war isn’t hell, something is either wrong with the world or with you.

The night in O.R. was rough and after fourteen hours of standing every doctor and nurse was ready to hit the hay. All thoughts lingered on a drink and a pillow and none were given to the new recruits coming around the bend. Except, of course, for the thoughts of one Corporal O’Reilly.

Radar stood with a clipboard in hand, waiting patiently as the two jeeps worth of new personnel came over the hill. He kept his eye out, looking for any male face he could find. He didn’t know who he was looking for, but so long as they had at least a five o’clock shadow, they’d stand out over the sea of smooth face nurses.

The jeeps came to a stop and ten women piled out, chattering all the while.

“All new nurses please report to Major Houlihan,” Radar called. “She’ll be in the mess tent just down that way.”

There was a general murmur of thanks as the wave of women washed by. But, in a rare moment, Radar couldn’t care less. He had hoped them leaving would somehow reveal a male person besides the driver hiding somewhere in either back seat, but no such luck.

“Anyone else,” he asked one of the drivers hopefully.

“Nobody here but us chickens,” the driver responded. “I do have some mail though. We picked it up as we were coming in.”

“Oh thanks,” Radar said sounding a little more disappointed than he meant to. Mail was usually something he rather enjoyed, but it was a poor substitute for a surgeon.

“Excuse me,” a woman’s voice asked followed by a tap on the shoulder.

Radar turned and was mildly surprised when he had to look a little down. She was older than him, mostly likely in her thirties with a captain’s insignia on her hat and shoulders. He stood to straighter attention at the sight.

“Could you direct me to Colonel Blake’s office,” she asked, in a polite but undeniably army-like way.

“Oh, yes ma’am,” Radar said. “Just up past the O.R. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you.”

She turned to leave.

“But I wouldn’t go in there right now ma’am,” he said quickly. “He was in surgery all last night. You might need to give him a minute.”

Her expression conveyed sympathy, but how Radar wasn’t sure. Her facial features hadn’t moved an inch. He might have just been projecting.

“Of course. Could you direct me to the barracks then?”

Radar nodded and pointed in the vague direction of the nurses quarters.

She gave him a small smile, nodded and went on her way.

Radar only idly watched her go. She seemed like someone either Hawkeye or Trapper would go for, but he couldn’t imagine either of them getting too far. She was regular army if ever he saw one, besides Major Houlihan of course.

He shook away the thought and went back to the problem at hand.

No doctor.

He let out a sigh. He’d have to inform Colonel Blake first. Maybe there was something in the mail to lighten the mood.

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Radar found Colonel Blake exactly where he expected him too; draped over his desk, still in surgical garb with a glass of something brown beside him and sound asleep.

“Colonel Blake, sir,” he said, gently.

The man shot up, still disoriented, but stable enough all things considered.

“Yes, what is it Radar?”

“Mail sir. Came in with the new personnel.”

“Oh, great,” Colonel Blake said, sounding just a little revealed. “Everyone get off okay?”

“Yes, sir. All the nurses went to report to Major Houlihan.”

“Very good, and what about the new doctor.”

Radar felt his throat tighten. “Sir?”

“The new surgeon,” Henry clarified. “Doctor O’Neil. Everything go off alright with him?”

“Oh yeah,” Radar said. His heart rate started to spike and his voice got shaky. “Doctor O’Neil. Well ah, the thing is, sir…” He let out a nervous laugh. “He’s not here.”

“What?” Henry said, his eyes coming into sudden focus. “What do you mean not here?”

“I mean I didn’t see him sir.” Radar shrugged, not knowing what else to do. “He wasn’t on the jeep.”

“How was he not on the jeep? The general told us he would be there.”

“Maybe we misheard something sir.”

Henry let out a frustrated grunt, getting to his feet. “Just our luck. For all we know he fell out the back when no one was looking.”

“I rather doubt that sir,” Radar said, lightly.

The Colonel shot him a look telling him, in no uncertain terms, he wasn’t in the mood.

Radar got the message loud and clear. In a desperate plea, he started to shuffle through the papers in the mail bag for something, anything to turn this whole thing around.

“Oh!” he said. “Look here, sir. It looks like we’ve got his file at least.”

“Great,” Henry said sardonically, taking the file. “ I’ll send his file into surgery and give everyone a paper cut.”

He opened the file and immediately closed it in annoyance.

“Christ, it’s not even him,” Henry huffed. “This must be one of the nurses files.”

He shoved the file back into Radar’s chest. The corporal caught it, deciding to take a peak into it himself.

“No, this is it sir. See?” He scurried over to Henry and pointed to the top of the page. “Captain O’Neil.”

“Yes, but as you can see here Radar, her name is Elizabeth.”

“I am seeing it sir. Captain Doctor Elizabeth Joanna O’Neil. Graduated Drexel University. Residency Pennsylvania Hospital. Former U.S. Army Nurse stationed in France.”

Henry snatched back the file. Radar did his best to keep up, standing on his toes to look over the Colonel’s arm.

Henry mumbled to himself as he read each page over and over and over again, until finally he had to admit defeat.

“That’s our Doc.”

“Oh!” Radar exclaimed. “I know her!”

“What?”

Radar fervently pointed to the picture on the top left corner. “She was on the jeep. She was going to report to you, but I said you were asleep and so she asked me where the barracks were.”

“She must have been looking for the new captain’s quarters,” Henry said, smiling in relief. But, it didn’t last long. Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, his expression turned to sudden fear.

“Radar. Find her and get her here before she meets McIntyre and Pierce.”

“Why shouldn’t she--”

Henry shot Radar a look and then he understood.

“Yes, sir!” he said, running out the door as fast as his legs could carry him.

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Hawkeye plopped himself down on the cot determined never to move again. He was out of his surgical garb in his favorite red robe with a glass of spirits in his hand. This was as good as it was going to get, at least until he caught some shut eye.

“How are you still standing,” he asked, observing his friend examining himself in the mirror.

“New nurses just pulled in,” Trapper answered easily. “How are you not standing?”

“I would, but my back decided to commit mutiny.”

It was then the door of the Swamp swung open and Hawkeye knew it was going to be a while before he got any peace of mind.

“Something eating you Frank,” Hawkeye asked the more than usual flustered man.

“Like you care,” Burns snapped back.

“That’s true.”

“Well if you must know, Captain O’Neil is missing.”

Hawkeye straightened, if only slightly. This information at least warranted a one elbow sit up. “Missing?”

Frank nodded. “Oh yeah, new personnel has arrived and nobody’s seen him.”

“Maybe he missed his flight,” Trapper offered.

“Or maybe he works faster than you,” Hawkeye added, shooting a look at Trapper.

“Well either way, you have to find him,” Frank said, distressed. “The Colonel assigned you to watch after him after all.”

“You make a good point Frank,” Trapper said.

“I do?”

“Sure. We’ll search high and low. I’ll start with the nurses tent.”

“Good idea,” Hawkeye added. “Maybe he’s behind my eyelids.”

Frank looked like he was going to say something indignant when a knock came at the door.

“We’re closed!” Hawkeye called. But no dice. The door scraped open.

“Pardon me, sirs,” a woman asked. “I’m looking for the new doctor’s quarters.”

Hawkeye immediately straightened up, fully up right this time.

Lovely as the first word that came to mind, which felt odd to say, even if it was just in his head. Lovely was not a word he tossed around lightly. She had a gentle face, big brown eyes, button nose and curly chestnut hair. Her frame was slight with subtle curves accentuated on a body much shorter than his usual type, but that was neither here nor there. Really, what else could he think but, lovely.

“You found it,” he answered, not skipping a beat.

She glanced at him suspiciously before taking a cursory glance around the space. A frown appeared at the dirty laundry, garbage, and general mayhem. Her eye lingered on the empty cot only to be immediately drawn to the distillery in the corner. That replaced the frown with mild surprise.

Hawkeye wondered idly if there was some problem with her cheek muscles. None of her expressions strained themselves more than a few centimeters.

“There must be some mistake,” she said.

“No, no mistake,” Hawkeye said, getting to his feet. “It’s cleaner than usual, but that won’t last long once the new doctor gets here.”

He smiled down at her. “Don’t tell me you’re this O’Neil character’s personal nurse. I’m liable to get jealous.”

“Hardly,” she said, tightly. “Doctor?”

“Pierce. This is McIntyre and the malpractice lawsuit in a military uniform is Burns.”

“That’s Major to you,” Frank said, sharply.

“Oh I’m sorry, Major Malpractice Lawsuit.”

“It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you,” McIntyre stepped in, taking her hand as he did so. “Lieutenant?”

“Captain,” she corrected, pointing to the insignia on her jacket for emphasis. “O’Neil.”

“Just my luck, the new doctor’s married,” Trapper mumbled to no one in particular.

“Like that’s stopped you,” Hawkeye commented.

“I assure you I’m not,” O’Neil said, pulling her hand away. “Clearly there has been some miscommunication. I am Doctor Elizabeth O’Neil, newly transferred surgeon to the 4077th M*A*S*H unit.”

Hawkeye blinked.

O’Neil glanced between the three men expectantly. “This is the 4077th, isn’t it?”

He turned to Trapper who’s expression matched his own; utter confusion.

“No you’re in the right place,” Hawkeye managed.

“We just…” Trapper started.

“They didn’t tell us…”

O’Neil raised a hand as a signal to stop. “It’s quite alright. I understand the confusion and I’m sure we can resolve this matter quickly. If one of you can just direct me to Colonel Blake’s office, I’ll ask him about alternative living arrangements.”

“Well now, there’s no need to be hasty,” Hawkeye said.

“Yeah, we’re all doctors here,” McIntyre chimed in.

“It wouldn’t be right for us to toss you out on your ear just because you’re a woman.”

“Down right ungentlemanlike.”

She gave them an appeasing smile. “That’s very kind of you--”

“It is, isn’t it.”

“We’re very friendly here.”

“But, I would still prefer to speak with the Colonel,” she said, firmly.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Burns stepped in. “Allow me to escort you, miss.”

“Doctor,” she corrected.

“What?”

“My name is Doctor O’Neil, or Captain, if you prefer. Not miss.”

Burns stopped, obviously flustered. His instinct to reprimand a subordinate for taking any kind of tone with him and his own worship of military formalities clashed until all he could get out was abashed, “Of course. Allow me to show you the way, Captain.”

“Thank you Major Burns.”

They both left leaving Hawkeye and Trapper stunned and a little disturbed.

“Hey Hawk,” Trapper said, hesitantly. “You don’t think we’ve got another Houlihan on our hands.”

“Too soon to tell,” he said. “We’d better follow, make sure Burns doesn’t corrupt the poor dear.”

#mash #m*a*s*h #hawkeye pierce #trapper john #radar o'reilly #henry blake #frank burns #elizabeth o'neil #my oc stuff #hawkeye pierce x oc #elizabeth doc o'neil

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rosieandthefreed · 6 years ago

Text

Two Weeks Later

It was an Odd damned disaster.

Never in the 60 years Taxxon had the park operational, he shut its gates. Let alone for an invisible threat like a dream walking Mud shaman. It was a P.R. nightmare. He couldn't explain that he got spooked by the little shit. That was way out of the question. The Glukkon had just waved whole thing off as a terrorist threat.

Yet, two weeks later, with the gates still closed and with nothing to show for it. Taxxon had to dig himself out of the pit that he was cast into.

For the first time in his company’s history, Taxxon had missed a launched date. Miss Rosie's Cottage laid empty. The Labour Egg orders where canceled and refunded. The Queen and her shrink had been relocate underground in the backstage area of Homestead. Keeping her and her eggs under acres of security.

The only good thing that came out of this was that Taxxon would have a fresh batch of slaves in the next month or so.

Taxxon watched as Drexel was being fussed over by his Slig assistant. They were about to start a press conference to clear this whole situation up. The fat Slig was acting more like the kid’s nanny then an actual body guard. Mantis was adjusting and readjusting Drexel’s bola tie for the cameras.

Odd, this kid was hopeless.

“We’re all ready to go, sir.” Flea interrupted Taxxon’s train of thought.

“We can start when you're ready.”

The old Glukkon rolled the cider he was practically chewing on with his tongue as he tried to decide on what emotion he was feeling.He settled on stress. If his shareholders didn't slaughter him; the stress this was all causing him would send Taxxon into cardiac arrest. He was getting too old for this shit.

Just kill him already.

“Let's do this then.”

Meanwhile, deep underground, Rosie was kept in the dark with just the light from Robbie’s screen and rows upon rows of heat lamps to illuminate the room around her.

Eggs. She had been laying eggs this whole time. The young Queen didn't even know. The drugs kept her unaware of that fact, but now that she was moved to the incubator room; she was now face to face with her unborn children.

Rosie was seething.

Rage quietly simmered inside her as she watched her eggs wiggle around a little in the warmth. They peeped softly to themselves in their sleep, completely unaware of where they where or want was going to happen to them once they hatched.

Rosie was stewing in her anger, her guilt and her need to protect her babies. An unhealthy combination of emotions, according to Robbie. However, there was little that could change the Queen’s mind on the matter.

She was going to kill Edward the next time he stepped into this room.

#Oddworld #mudokon #mudokon queen #Glukkon #Slig #Taxxon #drexel #mantis #flea #rosie #robbie #The gangs all here #writing #im back

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wapiti3 · 7 years ago

Photo

Contributions to ornithology for 1848-1853

By Jardine, William, Sir, 1800-1874 Publication info Edinburgh :W.H. Lizars,1848-1853. Contributor: Academy of Natural Sciences of Drexel University, Library and Archives BIODIV LIBRARY

#scientific illustration #ornithology #birds #natural history #illustrations

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kiss-my-freckle · 7 years ago

Text

Then it was Liz’s statement upon her return from the woods in Ruin.

“I didn’t go looking for trouble. But it found me.”

It wasn’t just in what she said, but in how she said.

Twice being saved from Alexander Kirk, and according to her deleted scene with Kate, she realized she was wrong in believing that she and her child were safe without Red in their lives. In the woods, where one should actually feel at peace, and she still found herself in trouble. Liz is at the point where she believes she’s a magnet for trouble. Can’t blame it all on Red anymore. She chose to fake her death, and Red honored her wish not to follow her into the woods.

Easy to blame Red for most of it, he’s been the one constant in her life. Nik’s death was the perfect example of how quick Liz is to blame herself. But Red hasn’t been the only constant, and love keeps Liz blind.

I’ve decided to gather up “trouble” dialogues.

Cooper: Where was she today? And don’t tell me you don’t know. Was it Reddington? Are there problems? Ressler: I think she’s having troubles at home, sir.

I like how Major’s dialogue fits in with Red’s dialogue from Drexel. “Tom is your Tom problem.” - Red

Major: You ever stop to think that the reason you have trouble relating to other people is because you’re special? That it’s not you, it’s everyone else that’s the problem?

Creel: Says here you’ve been having some troubles with your husband. Liz: That’s an understatement.

Liz: Ressler, I think I’m in trouble. Ressler: You think you - Liz: I got a call from Metro PD. They’ve got a missing-persons case, the DC harbormaster. He showed up where I was holding Tom.

Tom: How you been? Liz: What do you think? I’m in a lot of trouble because of you.

I like how Aleko’s dialogue fits in with dialogues from S5, especially since both directly involved Tom.

Aleko: Man, I already took a bullet for my troubles. Ain’t no way that I’m gonna get the death penalty too. Nice try, but you don’t have the evidence. Wilcox: Hold on, hold, on, hold on. Who shot you? Aleko: What? Wilcox: Your story was, you caught a stray walking through Ellwood Park. But now, that’s not true, is it? Not if you “took a bullet for your troubles.”

Tom: Turn your car around and get out of here. Red: I can’t do that. Elizabeth is in trouble.

Tom: Hey, don’t hang up. I’m in trouble. Liz: The judge cleared you of everything. Tom: It’s not about the harbormaster. Liz: I can’t.

Briggs: Tom? You know this guy? Nik: Not really. Friend of a friend. Briggs: Yeah, well, your friend’s friend is in a lot of trouble. Paramedic who brought him in notified the police.

Soundtrack: Correatown’s “Dear Trouble”

Tom: He took something from me that doesn’t belong to him - something that is only gonna bring him trouble.

Lena: You said he might be in trouble. What kind of trouble?

Red: You asked Nik to identify the bones, and he was killed for his trouble by someone who knows their identity, and therefore, their value.

Garvey: Plastic stays too. Any trouble, he joins his pals.

Red: Tom is capable of getting himself both into and out of trouble.

Tom: Nik had a friend, took DNA off the bones, ran a match, and got killed for his trouble. So did Nik.

Red: He’s in trouble, he’s desperate.

#Anti-Tom Keen #Anti-Keen2

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wendibird · 6 years ago

Text

Holy Chuck, I WANT this! Sam, in the midst of ordering hunting parties around, giving Jack some tips on hand-to-hand combat from the perspective of the smaller guy (because growing-up he was always sparring against Dean and his Dad, and had to learn some sneaky moves) in between teaching Maggie some computer tech things to e help out, suddenly hears a polite knock at the Bunker's door. Puzzled, he draws his gun and mounts the stairs, cautiously opening the door, only to find a Drexel standing there with a clip-board in hand.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Sam's feeling of unease is confirmed when the demon's eyes flash black. He already has the Demon Knife out when the demon holds up his hands in placation.

"Excuse me, Excellency, but there are a few minor matters that only you can attend to."

Sam just freezes, blinking a few times as he tries to make some logical sense of what he just heard. Seeing as he hasn't been stabbed, Drexel continues in a rush, hoping his luck will hold out. "We've handled most things in the way we guess you would prefer, but there's a few that need your direct input." He hesitantly offers Sam the clipboaed.

Still a bit dazed, Sam takes the clipboard and looks over the items. Drexel offers him a pen and he check-marks a few things, crosses out others, adds a few notes and is just about to hand it back when he thinks of something else and jots it down too. And underlines it. And circles it.

Drexel blanches when he sees what Sam has just written. "All.... of them?" Sam meets his gaze evenly. "Yes! Yes sir. I'll um... I'll see to it. All demon deals considered void." When Sam's glower intensifies he gulps and nods. "Immediately. Um... anything else? Sir?"

Sam seems to consider it but shakes his head. But as he turns to go he calls over his shoulder. "You can show up when it's necessary. Knock first. Any other demon I'll kill."

Drexel vanishes from sight and Sam kicks the door shut before descending the stairs again, muttering under his breath, "Don't have time for this crap..."

I mean.

I just want to put this out there:

By accepting Sam’s declaration that there would be no new King of Hell and by not challenging it, the demons acknowledged his authority. Sam may not be the king of Hell in name, but the hand-selected followers of the most recent contender to the throne literally would not dare to face him and fight for it.

Sam is, unofficially, the Actual Ruler of Hell.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

#supernatural #spn 14x1 spoilers #spn season 14 spoilers #sam winchester #sam fucking winchester #sam king-of-hell winchester #headcanon accepted #demon drexel

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sphynxtee · 4 years ago

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wendellg28133445-blog · 6 years ago

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pumajock1988 · 7 years ago

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Chilled

Nathan was your 25 year old grad student from Michigan state college. Got his degree in teaching in math. He was a chilled and laid back guy. Nathan wasn’t a big fan of wearing shoes even at his job. You could still catch him being shoeless at his desk or wearing long black vans socks. While at the chalk board. He hated wears dress shoes.

While along the shores of South Carolina. The teacher decided to pull in for the night. He was making it to Florida for a friends wedding. He was staying at the Hyatt hotel. At 6 ft wearing size 11 shoes. His feet had enough. Nathan wearing vans jeans and a hoodie with a beanie. He had put those on because the night was getting cold. Nathan loved hoodies and beanies. Parking the car he had almost decided to walk to the checkout desk in sock feet. Yet said to himself he can stay in them just a little while longer. Nathan reached his room. Laid on his bed and sighed. Scrunching his toes in his shoes. While he laid there he remembers seeing a bedroom that appeared to be empty. He decided to check out. Curiosity got the better of him so he decided to sneak into the room. Nathan couldn’t stand being in shoes anymore. He decided to remove them in the room. At the bed by the glass siding door. Instant relief and he wiggled his toes in his grey socks. Then he heard a voice almost like arguing. Zach was a jock freshman at Drexel. Standing at 6'2 with size 12 feet. He was toned yet strong. Wearing black Adidas slide with black crew socks, basketball shorts, shirt and backward cap. Zach was ready to settle in for the night. With Zach was his bitch Tyler. He stood 5'9. Wearing worn out pumas sweats and a t shirt. Hearing the noise getting closer. Nathan slid under the bed. Yet forgot his shoes. Some ppl could smell them since they were worn quite often. “Geez it smells like feet in this room.” Zach exclaimed.“ I should report this to the office.” Tyler agreed by saying yes “Sir”. Nathan rolled his eyes. He said to himself great. As if to say I got myself into a good mess. Looking outward he could see Zach and Tyler’s feet. “Bitch” Zach shouted “my feet need tending to.” Tyler dropped to his knees and removed Zach’s slides. “Ahhhhh that is much better.” Without hesitation Tyler started to rub his Sir’s massive feet. You could see Zach’s feet all over Tyler’s face. Tyler would get on the floor and Zach’s feet would be on top of him. Nathan was disgusted. Tyler pulled off Zach’s socks and started to lick the soles and toes. Zach was in awe. “Good Bitch” Zach exclaimed. Next Tyler gave his Sir a bj. Once Adam hit climax. Drips of cum went all over Tyler’s face. Zach kicked Tyler demanding him to get up. Zach got ready for bed and sigh as Tyler pulled off his Sir’s socks. The sock falls inches away from Nathan. They were rank. Lights went out. Nathan decides to grab his vans. He grabs them and slowly and quietly puts them on. Then boom Tyler lands on the floor only in undies. Next to his Sir’s socks. Thankfully Tyler didn’t see Nathan under the bed. Morning came and Tyler woke up inhaling Zach’s sock. “Get tending to my feet Bitch” Zach shouted. You can hear Tyler’s tongue licking the soles and sucking on the toes. Tyler got on his knees and watch Zach get changed. Zach took a shower and Tyler complemented on his physical look. Tyler got dress quick with a shirt, shorts and black socks with Pumas. Zach wore a tang top, basketball shorts with his long black addias socks and slides. They were both out the door. Nathan was relieved. He jumped from the bed and got out the door back to his room. Nathan couldn’t believe the night he had. Nathan wanted to stay one more day. Zach and Tyler were acting very suspicious. Keeping his distance from them. He followed them. They both acted like good friends in public. At one point Zach stoped another athletic guy named Dylan. Dylan stood 6ft and was toned. Zach told Dylan to meet him at his room around 7pm. Nathan returned to his room for a little power nap. Zach and Tyler returned to their room around 6 just enough time to meet Dylan. Nathan woke up by the slamming of their hotel door. He ran to his balcony. He could hear Zach’s voice. In a dangerous maneuver. Nathan went from his hotel room to Zach by carefully cutting across two hotel rooms to his. While wearing black socks jeans and a flannel shirt. He got back under the bed. Zach demanded that Tyler remove his slides. Tyler got on his knees and removed them. Zach felt instant relief. He scrunched his toes. Tyler asked if he could worship Sir’s feet. Zach liked the idea. Tyler stripped down to his boxers. Leaving his clothes all over. Zach started to jerk off. It was 7 o'clock and Dylan was knocking at the door. Wearing sperrys shorts and a polo stood Dylan waiting patiently. The bolt unlocks and Zach answers the door with a smile. He invites Dylan in. When Dylan turns around to face Zach. Dylan has a shocked look on his face. With his hands up as well. He begins to turn into what looks likes his soul being taken from his bod. It goes straight into Zach’s mouth. All that remains is Dylan’s clothes. Lying in a pile on the floor. What a good jock Zach exclaimed. Tyler was hiding in the bathroom. He knew Zach’s powers. Tyler could be next if he didn’t obey. Nathan moved under the bed. Tyler comes out of the bathroom to hear the noise. Tyler shouts saying “I have him Sir! I have him Sir” Nathan is being pulled out from under the bed by his hair. Zach is ready to eat Nathan. Nathan pushes Tyler in Zach’s path. Causing Zach to eat Tyler. All that is left of Tyler is a shirt, shorts and smelly socks and shoes. Nathan is able to pin Zach against a wall. With all his strength Nathan snaps Zach neck. Thus ends the terror of Zach. Nathan leaves the room. Never to speak to anyone of what had happened.

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ladypepperofdavenshire · 7 years ago

Photo

Mrs. Haddock was knitting a blanket for a new baby borne to one of the families who tended the orchards of the estate to go along with a generous basket of food. Haddock was absorbed in the second act of Hamlet, enjoying the silence. Mrs. Haddock’s needles had been click-clicking in the background for the past hour when they abruptly ceased.

“Malcolm?”

Haddock looked up over the lip of his book.

“Yes, Mother?”

“I was just thinking,” she said, cocking her head in a loving manner. “It’s starting to get cool outside again, and you and Miss Marlowe mustn’t let a musty old woman like me keep you two lovebirds locked away in this ancient place while the nice summer weather is waning.”

Haddock lowered his book with a deep sigh.

“We enjoy keeping company with you, Mother. You’re the one who hired Miss Marlowe as a companion for just that.”

Mrs. Haddock twiddled her knitting needles.

“Yes, I know, but you two should spend some time together. Just with each other. Why don’t you take Miss Marlowe down to the village and have a day to yourselves, hm?”

“But—”

“I insist, Malcolm.”

Mrs. Haddock was giving her progeny the same look she reserved for him as a youngster when he tucked a family of toads into her bedsheets.

“Fine,” Haddock muttered, hiding behind his book again. Mrs. Haddock smiled and resumed her knitting.

Miss Marlowe was delighted when Haddock woodenly asked if she would like to go to the village with him to enjoy a day on their own. If he had been a woman, he would have been turned off by his surly attitude. Fortunate for Miss Marlowe that she took his bad attitude in stride. Haddock allowed himself to be led around like a dog on a short leash while Miss Marlowe did a majority of the talking, telling him about her family and the latest happenings in her neighborhood as they made their way to the village. There, they had passed too much time in a fabric store where Haddock felt a little piece of him die inside. He had the distinct feeling that Miss Marlowe stretched out their stay in spite. Afterwards, she was kind enough to suggest they pop into the bookstore. Haddock ordered a sizable stack that would enrich his collection and bought a small book that Miss Marlowe was eyeing to keep up appearances of their courtship. She was genuinely surprised by the gesture.

“What was that for?” she asked as he handed her the book following the purchase.

“You wanted it, didn’t you?”

“I, um…yes.”—she gave him a peculiar look—“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” he said as they exited the store.

They let the sounds of the street fill up the space that could have been devoted to talking, retreating to their thoughts. Haddock didn’t really know why he had bought the book for Miss Marlowe. It had been extremely impulsive. How had he known that she wanted it in the first place? Because you were watching her in the store. The revelation of that little inner voice sent a hot jolt throughout his chest. I was watching her to make sure Sir Drexel wouldn’t happen to try anything, he argued. The little voice wasn’t convinced. In a bookstore? Sure, sure. Haddock gagged the little voice and tried to think along another tack. His eyes wandered over to Miss Marlowe with her hand on his arm. He directed them directly in front of him. And as if materializing out of his imagination, he saw Sir Drexel striding down the street straight ahead. Haddock tried to pretend that he hadn’t seen the other, but Sir Drexel had already sighted him and was making a beeline for the couple.

Haddock tightened his grip on his cane, ready to deliver Sir Drexel an almighty wallop should he try to start anything. Miss Marlowe—that ever-perceptive woman—took notice.

“Don’t you dare,” she hissed. “You don’t need to be causing a scene in the middle of the marketplace. The villagers already think you’re a mad hermit as is. Don’t give them fuel for their fire!”

Haddock had to grudgingly agree with her logic.

“Fine.”

Sir Drexel drew up to the couple, eyeing them down his gladiator’s nose. He tipped his hat.

“Haddock,” he spat. It sounded like a curse word. His eyes flicked over to Miss Marlowe’s face and a muscle in his cheek twitched.

“Miss Marlowe.”

The way he said her name had an icy snarl in it that caused Miss Marlowe to dig her trembling fingers into the crook of Haddock’s arm.

“It’s so nice to see you, Sir Drexel,” Miss Marlowe ejaculated, her chipper tone belying the fear she was telegraphing through Haddock’s appendage. He could feel some distinct bruises forming. Sir Drexel smiled at her, but the smile didn’t reach up to his eyes.

“I beg pardon, Miss Marlowe, but I just came over to deliver a message to your friend here.”

Haddock raised a thick brow at the other man. What could Sir Drexel possibly have to say to him? Sir Drexel grinned, and proceeded to slap Haddock in the face with a glove. People close enough to witness the exchange gasped.

“I challenge you to a duel,” he said with a wolfish grin. His eyes slid over to Miss Marlowe. “For stealing the affections of my paramour.”

Having gained the intended attention, Sir Drexel swept away, whistling.

#ladypepperofdavenshire #malcolm haddock #haddock #miss marlowe #isolde #isolde marlowe #sir drexel #drexel #werewolf #fantasy #regency #haddock and isolde

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 5 years ago

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M*A*S*H OC Pilot Episode Outline

A/N: I wanted to start doing things like this. I think if writers start showing their actual W.I.P. it might help shed a light on all the work we actually do. Sorry for the long post, but for what ever reason the mobile app is eating all my posts with the “read more” features.

———————————————————————————————————

Henry received word they’re finally getting an extra doctor sent to the 4077. Due to some radio interference, all he gets is a name Captain O’Neil and only some cursory background.

“Radar, can you get Pierce, Burns, and McIntyre in here?”

“Captain Pierce, McIntyre and Major Burns here to see you sir.”

“Well let them know it can wait, I have something important to tell them.”

“What’s up Henry,” Hawkeye asked.

“Some actual good news for once, command is finally allowing us to bring in another surgeon.”

“Hey, that’s great,” McIntyre exclaimed.

“Is that really necessary,” Burns jumped in. “Surely the army doesn’t need to waste unnecessary men.”

“Speak for yourself Frank,” Hawkeye said. “Personally I’d like to have four surgeons here instead of three surgeons and a horse doctor.”

Frank let out an indignant huff to be promptly ignored by everyone.

“What unit are they coming from,” Trapper asked.

“No unit, straight from the states. General said he just graduated from Drexel.”

“Graduated?” Hawkeye said. The relieved expression now shifting into obvious frustration. “Henry, they can’t send us a kid that green. We have wounded here, not cadavers.”

“At least before Frank gets to them,” Trapper added.

“Oh don’t get huffy,” Henry protested. “For your information he served as a nurse in the last war.”

“Nurse? What’s wrong, kid got flat feet and couldn’t join up?” Trapper asked.

“Was the kid actually a kid then?” Hawkeye continued.

“Me?”

“Colonel, now I really must protest,” Burns stepped in. “I am the ranking officer here. Do you really want this new recruit to be contaminated by these two...degenerates.”

“And what would you suggest Frank?”

“Well...let me be his mentor. I have the most experience, not to mention military discipline a new recruit should aspire too.”

“All the more reason for us to look after him. Don’t worry about it Henry, Trapper and I will look after the kid.”

“He’ll be the son we’ve never had.”

O’Neil arrives with a handful of new nurses and gets lost in the shuffle. Meanwhile Henry receives word Captain O’Neil is one Elizabeth O’Neil when Radar finally gets her file through.

“Pardon me,” a voice asked. “I’m looking for the new doctor’s quarters.”

Hawkeye immediately straightened up. Lovely as the first word that came to mind, which felt odd to say, even if it was just in his head. Lovely was not a word he tossed around lightly. The speaker’s voice was connected a gentle face, big brown eyes, button nose and curly chestnut hair. Her frame was slight with subtle curves accentuated on a body much shorter than his usual type, but that was neither here nor there. Really, what else could he think but, lovely.

“You found it,” he answered, not skipping a beat.

She took a cursory glance around the space, frowning at the dirty laundry, garbage, and general mayhem. The only thing to disturb this perpetual displeasure was the mild surprise at the distillery in the corner.

“There must be some mistake,” she said.

“No, no mistake,” Hawkeye said. “It’s cleaner than usual, but that won’t last long once the new doctor gets here. Don’t tell me you’re this O’Neil character’s personal nurse. I’m liable to get jealous.”

“Hardly, Doctor?”

“Pierce. This is McIntyre and the malpractice lawsuit in a military uniform is Burns.”

“That’s Major to you,” Frank said, sharply.

“Oh I’m sorry, Major Malpractice Lawsuit.”

“It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you,” McIntyre step in, taking her hand as he did so. “Lieutenant?”

“Captain,” she corrected. “O’Neil.”

“Just my luck, the new doctor’s married.”

“Like that’s stopped you,” Hawkeye commented.

“I assure you I’m not,” she said, pulling her hand away. “Clearly there must have been some miscommunication. I’m Doctor Elizabeth O’Neil, newly transferred surgeon to the 4077th M*A*S*H unit. This is the 4077, isn’t it?”

“No you’re in the right place.”

“We just…”

“They didn’t tell us…”

“Well now, there’s no need to be hasty,” Hawkeye said.

“Yeah, we’re all doctors here,” McIntyre chimed in.

“It wouldn’t be right for us to toss you out on your ear just because you’re a woman.”

“Down right ungentlemanlike.”

She gave them an appeasing smile. “That’s very kind of you--”

“It is, isn’t it.”

“We’re very friendly here.”

“But, I would still prefer to speak with the Colonel,” she said, firmly.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Burns stepped in. “Allow me to escort you, miss.”

“Doctor,” she corrected.

“What?”

“My name is Doctor O’Neil, or Captain, if you prefer. Not miss.”

“Thank you Major Burns.”

They both left leaving Hawkeye and Trapper stunned and a little disturbed.

“Hey Hawk,” Trapper said, hesitantly. “You don’t think we’ve got another Houlihan on our hands.”

“Too soon to tell,” Pierce said. “We’d better follow them, make sure Burns doesn’t corrupt the poor dear.”

O’Neil and Frank come into Henry’s office to find Margaret already there. O’Neil offers to sleep with the nurses until accommodations can be arranged, but everyone objects, for various reasons. Except Houlihan, who believes as a Major she reserves the right to her own tent.

“Henry, I hate to say. Frank is right.”

“I am,” Frank said boldly, only for his boasting to falter. “I am?”

“Of course,” Hawkeye continued. “Captain O’Neil can’t be hanging around the other nurses.”

“They’re below her rank.”

“Down right disgraceful.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Henry said. “Which is why I am going to assign Captain O’Neil to Major Houlihan’s tent until further accommodations could be arranged. Is that agreeable, Captain?”

“That’s very kind of you Colonel, thank you. So long as Major Houlihan doesn’t mind.”

“Is that an order, Colonel?”

“It is, Major.”

“Then, not at all.”

“Well, that’s settled. I’ll have Radar get the paperwork started--”

“I’ve got all the formed filed for the request for a new officer’s tent,” Radar finished, walking through the door. “Just sign here sir.”

O’Neil and Houlihan don’t start on the right foot. Houlihan automatically assumes that while O’Neil is only a captain, as a doctor she’ll try to over step her bounds of rank. O’Neil meanwhile is just trying not to make waves on her first day.

“I must thank you again Major, for allowing me to stay here.”

“Yes although this must be quite a downgrade from your fancy dorm room.”

“I suppose so ma’am, but it’s nothing I’m not used to.”

“Camping in the New England woods is hardly the same thing, Captain.”

“I suppose so. I was more referring to camping out in the French countryside.”

“Oh.”

“In 1942. Nurses tents can get rather crowded, as I’m sure you know.”

“Yes. You served in the last war?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And you’re serving in this one.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“As a doctor.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Why?”

“It’s what I’m good at ma’am.”

“Alright, enough with the ma’am.”

“Sorry, Major.”

“And the Major.”

“Sorry sir?”

“Are you mocking me?”

“No sir. Ma’am. Major...I’m running out of nouns.”

They’re interrupted by incoming wounded.

O’Neil proves herself in the operating room. She works quickly and efficiently and hardly speaks a word outside of what is necessary to operate. She doesn’t even answer when teasing or questions are directed at her; again, unless it has something to do with surgery.

Frank and Houlihan are impressed by her dedication. Trapper and Hawkeye are starting to have their doubts.

“Trapper, I think I’ve got the Doc pegged.”

“How so?”

“She’s robot.”

After surgery, O’Neil eats by herself in the mess before going back to the recovery room. She gets to talking to one of the patients; a kid with a busted arm who’s having some trouble in recovery. She initially asks of the nurses to keep an eye on him before going off the bed, only to stop when she sees Frank go into Houlihan’s tent. Rather than make a fuss, she decided to sleep in the recovery room on one of the spare cots. Hawkeye finds her there the next morning.

“Rise and shine, Doc.”

“Doctor,” she mumbled, blinking awake. “What time is it? Do we have more wounded?”

“Not at the moment. What are you doing here?”

“Sleeping. Before that working.”

“Why didn’t you go back to your tent?”

“Because I was working. Where are the showers?”

“You sure that won’t short circuit your wiring?”

“My what?”

“Never mind, Doc.”

“Doctor.”

“That’s what I said.”

“I’ll find it myself. Before I go, who worked on bed 6?”

“Frank, why?”

“I need to talk to him, and Colonel Blake. I think we’re going to have to open the kid up again.”

O’Neil presents the evidence to Henry. Frank protests that he didn’t miss anything while Trapper and Hawkeye back her up. Henry agrees to allow them to open the kid back up and O’Neil heads the surgery.

O’Neil finds the remaining metal in the kid’s shoulder, but the kid loses partial function in his arm, leading him to be honorably discharged for medical reasons

Frank chews her out, but both Trapper and Hawkeye and quick to come to her defense stating that nobody else could have done better after Frank had botched it up so bad. Henry agrees, chalking it up to bad luck and a rookie mistake

Hawkeye realizes she did it on purpose, having seen her previous work

“You botched it. Why?”

“He’s seventeen. He lied on his papers to join up.”

“So why not report him.”

“His fathers gone. He’s got two kid sisters and a mother who’s barely making ends meet. Joining up as the only way he could support them. If he’s medically discharged at least he gets G.I. benefits until he can find something better. Are you going to tell on me?”

“Not me Doc.”

Episode ends with O’Neil sitting alone only for Trapper and Hawkeye to join her.

“Okay, what’s with the Captain Pierce? Why do you insist on calling me Captain Pierce?

“Why do you insist on call me Doc?”

Hawkeye blinked. A gear turned, something clicked and a light bulb sparked to life. She was messing with him. Doctor Elizabeth J. O’Neil was messing with him.

O’Neil watched him in amusement as her lip curled into a subtle smile.

Before he could say anything smart, the familiar sound of helicopter blades roared overhead.

“Attention,” the announcement called. “In coming wounded.”

“Now, Captain Pierce,” she said, setting down her utensils, “Are you ready to get back to work?”

“Whatever you say, Doc.”

#mash #m*a*s*h #hawkeye pierce #trapper mcintyre #frank burns #henry blake #margaret houlihan #mash oc #m*a*s*h oc #elizabeth o'neil #captain o’neil #doctor o'neil #hawkeye pierce x oc

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