Later that night, after dodging five M.P.’s around Post-Op (I had a shift and they were watching me closely on Henry’s orders, but they were always in the way of everything and I was getting highly annoyed by their bumbling actions around the beds), I quietly snuck into the Supply Room. God, Henry’s had them around me since we had that meeting in his office earlier in the day. Of course, he seemed too concerned for me that I had what seemed like a million M.P.’s up my behind. I didn’t appreciate it, but it helped sometimes when I was looking at shadows and jumping at everybody behind me, even Kellye, who was my friend.
Simmons had made me that way, but I wasn’t going to let him rule my life by fear. I had to run and face it.
Since I promised Hawkeye a night in the Supply Room (hopefully, we were going to be alone and the coat hanger on the door heeded), I had to find some way to get the hell out of the M.P.’s sight. I found my window of opportunity when another one of their kind came in and said that they had spotted Simmons around the camp and that Klinger was hindering their efforts.
“Damn fool was in a dress again,” the M.P. mentioned at the end of my shift as he and the others started for the door of Post-Op, “and the heels that he was wearing broke as he ran, had him tumbling into the latrines’ side wall. Created a whole mess of men behind him, some sort of traffic jam. It disturbed Major Burns, who was inside reading his National Geographic, tipped the whole thing over. After getting this fugitive, we have to clean it up, on Major Burns’ orders.”
So, as they turned their backs to see to Simmons (and Klinger and Frank, if I must say, despite the mess), I ran in the opposite direction. Dropping off my reports for the night on the desk and letting the next nurse know what was going on, I ran out of Post-Op.
Even without the M.P.’s bothering me, I was also in charge of supplies for the next week and a half, so I also grabbed a clipboard with the recent supply lists from the desk on the way out of Post-Op and did my duty for the night quickly before Hawkeye came. Work always came before play, of course, but doing that work as fast as possible was always a plus. It made time blow by and the long-awaited event come closer.
Hell, it didn’t take Hawkeye long to find out I was there, though, and, after a few minutes of checking the supplies, thinking out what we needed and what was missing, I heard a door open and close with a clang behind it and felt some arms around me…a small bite on my neck. A surge of energy went down through my body and I giggled. I knew who it was.
“I thought you’d never come,” Hawkeye said, nuzzling his face into my pillow of hair.
“You know I always will,” I replied, finding his ear with my teeth as I turned my head to find him, our heads connected together finally. “I seem to have a canny ability to find a way out, even with the guards on my tail.”
“Oww, Jeanie,” he teased back. He went for my neck again, ignoring my last sentence.
I then dropped the clipboard, finding nothing new to report to Margaret about the supplies…for the time being.
“Oww what, Hawkeye? Did I hurt you that badly?”
I made sure that Hawkeye missed my neck as I turned around and practically jumped deeper and deeper into his arms, panting in his ear with quick breaths and whispering how much I loved him and that we need a quiet, shadowy corner…quickly.
I got my wish within an instant. Hawkeye, walking backwards with me still in his arms, led me to the most concealed corner of the Supply Room, where shelves met each other to make a tidy crevice. There was a space for us and privacy within reach.
Within seconds of being there (no, it was milliseconds, I should say, since seconds seem too long of a time), we danced to an ancient familiar tune, the same from the last time we were there: dangling our legs here and there like puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly, tangling our arms in embraces that we could barely get out of. The kisses were as delicious as ever and the ecstasy of it was amazing.
Despite the cold Korean winter (and taking all of our clothes off), the two of us enjoyed each other immensely that night. For me, being in Hawkeye’s arms melted away all of my senseless troubles, fears and stress. The heat warmed me up immediately. My ear next to where his heart was comforted me after a few minutes of teasing games and love. Being close to him, all and all, was making me complete, the same way Falk made me. Being totally in love and –
Still completely naked and warm under a blanket as the heavy winds rocked the building back and forth with ease, the both of us suddenly jumped when we heard a crash on the other side of the Supply Room.
I scampered back into my discarded clothes immediately after throwing the blanket to one side (damning Margaret and her regulations on not using supplies without proper authorization first). Hawkeye followed my example just as quickly as he cursed under his breath about privacy and the cold and wind. He then hurdled close next to me (dressed in record time) when we heard another crash. And that time, it was closer to where we were sitting. However, we saw nothing: no shadows, no animals coming out or even the feel of the bitter wind coming through the cracks of the building.
“It’s not Henry,” Hawkeye whispered frantically as I jumped again, wrapping his arms around me once more and chewing on my left ear. “He wouldn’t do that to you, would he?”
“No, he knows better.” I squinted again, looking in to the opposite side of the room, trying to figure out what could make so much noise. “Henry would have been tripping over everything and making himself known by now because he’s so clumsy and uncoordinated sometimes. Plus, you’re a friend of his. Would he do this to you? No, he wouldn’t. He’s more sensible and has more taste than that.”
“Trapper is sleeping and Frank is with Hot Lips,” Hawkeye added.
“Maybe it’s a mouse or an animal or something?” I suggested, my heart suddenly turning to fear when I realized that my words were hollow: a lie, for sure. I knew who it could possibly, but I didn’t want to say anything to Hawkeye about it. I wanted to keep the moments as blissful as possible and ignore the noise on the other side of the room. I wanted to stop time and go back five minutes, keeping time at the moment where my head laid on Hawkeye’s bare chest, my cheek at his own heart, but I could not. I was hopelessly being pushed into the future.
Hawkeye shook his head (he knew it was a possibility, but not likely) as he backed away from my ear, his arms losing their grip around my body.
“Let’s get out here,” he finally concluded, not wanting to know about what the source of the noise was. “Check on the supplies again, satisfy Major Baby and meet me back in Post-Op. I’m sure Henry is going crazy just trying to find us again. We’ve been missing for a while now and the fuss about Frank’s latrine adventure should be over now.”
I nodded with agreement, watching Hawkeye exit the Supply Room quickly, jogging and then running away, the coat hanger in his hands as soon as he grabbed the doorknob. Then, I myself looked from the doors to the other side of the Supply Room again, staring into the darkness.
“You can come out now, Simmons,” I said to the jumping lights and shadows, addressing them as if there was really someone there…if it was so. “We’re done here. Show’s over. You can go outside and meet the M.P.’s and Klinger, if you so choose to. Otherwise, stick it. You’ve caused enough trouble already, with your attacks, arson and Tom-peeking. It can stop now.”
I got up and walked towards the trouble – idiot I am, as always – and then stopped. Was it worth it to confront him? What could I do that a group of M.P.’s could not do?
I knew that Simmons was there somehow, watching and waiting. There was no doubt in my mind. However, it was time to face up to my deepest fears. No man should be controlling my life like that: controlling my fears and controlling the strings of my mind and heart. I was my own woman and should not let somebody shadow and direct me…making me jump…playing with my mind. It was time for that to stop, because history could not be repeated for a third time. I could not afford it anymore.
I was headstrong. I would get out of it alive. I am a survivor.
I ran towards the action, my fist ready to strike.