Degeneration

JMA

“Those degenerates!”

Frank gave Margaret a whine of agreement that seemed to satisfy her. He hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything since That Thing happened yesterday. That Thing, The Trapper Thing, when he was feeling adventurous he even referred to it as That Kiss Thing. Only to himself. After all, who else could he talk to?

“Can you believe it, Frank?” Margaret continued, automatically assuming Frank shared her outrage. “They get away with everything! But what can we do about it?”

That was the question. What could he do about it? He never asked for that type of behaviour to be directed towards him. He wasn’t one of *those*, a….a powder-puff! If Frank had his way, Trapper would be on his way to a court-marshal under threat of a Blue Discharge.

Margaret glared across the mess tent. “There’s no point going to Colonel Blake. Pierce and McIntyre have him wrapped around their little finger!”

Well that was true. If Frank went to Blake, Trapper would do *something* to get out of it, probably getting Pierce to back him up. 

“I don’t understand it, Frank, I really don’t.”

Neither did he. Trapper chased women relentlessly. He was married! Could it be possible that there was something about *him* that had overridden all that? Unlikely… but Frank couldn’t help feel a desperate pull towards the other man. It just so happened that Trapper John McIntyre wanted him, of all people, for no reason at all. Frank was disturbed and flattered in a way then left him wanting to prove to Trapper that he was worth it.

“I mean,” Margaret sighed in frustration, “who would do that to a latrine?”

“Huh?” Latrine? Frank knew all about Hawkeye’s latest prank on the camp latrine; he had just forgotten that that’s what they were talking about.

“Are you listening to anything I’m saying?”

“Of course Margaret! Those two get away with everything and it’s got to stop.” Frank snivelled a little to cover. “One day someone’s going to get hurt. As my wife used to say, it’s all fun and games until someone looses an eye.”

Margaret looked outraged. “Frank!” She stood up, slammed her tray dawn and marched out of the room.

“What did I say?” Frank’s eyes followed her out of the door. Across the room Hawkeye and Trapper cheered them. Frank sniffed and followed her out.

“Margaret…? 

“Go away Frank!”

“Darling? What did I do?”

“Go ask your wife, Frank, since she has all the answers.”

“Oh, my wife!” It occasionally slipped Frank’s mind how touchy Margaret was on the subject of his wife. He didn’t really understand why, it wasn’t as if they had even met. Frank shook his head. Women confused him to no end. “I’m sorry darling. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

Margaret looked around to make absolutely certain that no one could see them. Then she walked seductively up to him and placed her hand on his arm. “I don’t know Frank, can you think of anything?”

Frank smiled in a way he probably thought was inviting. Perhaps a night with her would take his mind off Trapper. Yes! It was exactly what he needed. The arms of a *woman* instead of the thought of Trapper’s lips…

“Well? Frank?” Margaret was getting a little irritated at being repeatedly ignored.

Caught out again, Frank stumbled, “I… I was just thinking of all the things I could do.” He leered and lowered his voice. “ I’d start at your feet, my darling, and take each naughty little toe…”

“Attention all personnel. Incoming wounded! Pack your overnight bag, folks, this is gonna be a long one.”

“…so I say to her. ‘Rita my darling, I name you Beauty Queen of Crabapple Cove!’” Most of the O.R laughed. Except Frank.

“Can it, Pierce!” he snapped, “Can’t you see some of us are trying to operate? Nurse! Where is my scalpel?”

“You never asked for one, Major.”

“Don’t talk back to your superior officer!” 

“You know Frank, suction, only the military would consider you superior to anything.” Hawkeye caught sight of a fragment he was chasing.

Henry sighed. He could just see it coming like a slow moving train reck. They’d been in here a long time, and tempers were short enough as it was. “Guys, knock it off. That’s an order.” He sent a pleading look over to Trapper to help him defuse the situation.

“So Hawk,” Trapper said, “What do you think my chances of becoming a Beauty Queen are?”

Frank snorted in disgust. The corners of Trapper’s lips twitched into a smile as he closed up his last patient.

“Well, you’re pretty,” Hawkeye said, finishing up his own final casualty, “but I’m not sure how you’d go in the swim suit category.”

“I’ll have you know I look great in a bikini.”

“You lousy degenerates!” Frank stormed into the scrub room. Hawkeye and Trapper followed him.

“I’m not arguing with you there, Trapper. You should see how the men look at you when you go swimming.”

Trapper bristled. “What men?” he demanded.

Frank looked at him. He knew! He knew exactly what Trapper was covering when he made comments like this. He knew!

Hawkeye watched Ferret-face, not quite sure what to make of his expression. “Well, Trapp, there’s Frank for a start. I’ll have you know your bikinis drive him wild!”

Frank slammed out of the room, unaware of Margaret as he passed her. She huffed and demanded to know what that was all about. Trapper shook his head.

“So Trapp, you up for a drink at The Swamp before bed?” Hawkeye asked.

“Nah,” Trapper answered, “I’ve gotta talk to Frank about something first.”

“You’re talking to Frank on purpose?”

Trapper laughed. Margaret didn’t seem to find it that funny.

“Frank. Wait up.”

“McIntyre, I’m too tired for this. Go pick on someone else.”

“Easy, Frank,” Trapper said, finally catching up, “I’m friendly, remember?”

Frank crossed his arms and stared at him. “Yes. I remember.”

That caught Trapper a little and, for some reason, made him smile.

“Frank...” Trapper rested his hand on Frank’s forearm. Frank stiffened a little but didn’t pull away, so Trapper left his hand there. “I’m sorry if I offended you. The very last thing I want is for you to hate me for it.”

With a little pressure on Frank’s forearm they began walking again, this time in the direction of the supply tent. When Trapper opened the door, Frank knew it was all over. He never really had a choice.

“Why, McIntyre?” Frank pleaded. “Why me?”

“I don’t know Frank. Ya got this… thing. This quiet *thing*.” It startled Frank a little. It was what Margaret told him. She also wanted him because she saw the potential for greatness. Perhaps Trapper…

“And you know, Frank, we’re both here. Each separated from his family. You and me.” Trapper gave him a smile Frank had seen directed at various nurses. Trapper’s smile. His hand moved up to the side of Frank’s face. “Maybe we can help each other.”

“It’s wrong.”

Frank’s voice was weak.

“No one will find out.”

Trapper moved a little closer.

“We’ll get caught.”

Frank’s eyes fluttered closed.

“No one will find out.”

Trapper was very close.

“Yes or no?”

He never really had a choice.

Trapper kissed him. It wasn’t like kissing a girl, but there was nothing Frank could pin down as being different. It just was. Frank kissed back. It was the only control he had over the situation, so he kissed back and moved his hands over Trapper’s body.

Trapper broke away. “We should continue this later.”

Frank nodded. They walked back to The Swamp in silence. Hawkeye was already asleep, Trapper followed soon after. Frank lay awake for hours, trying to pinpoint just where his life went out of control.

He fell asleep.