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Mingle - Emergency Potluck

Pumpkin Hollow Community Bulletin

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WELCOME POTLUCK

Greetings, residents! Those more observant sorts among you may have noticed a large influx of very crowded ferries. In order to welcome our new residents en masse, Town Hall is holding a potluck in Town Square. Please bring a dish if you are able and make a new friend!

All of our newest arrivals need only bring themselves. We look forward to welcoming you all into our community, and may your lanterns always be lit.

This event is open to all! In light of our new influx of prospective players following the Great Sail Migration, we've decided to offer a small public event to tide everyone over until the TDM this weekend.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"FATHER!!" a familiar voice hollers, and then Mulcahy is getting pulled in for a warm kiss on the cheek and a hug carefully around his plate of food.

"What the hell are you doing here!? I- what? You!" followed by a manic cackle as he crushes the father tighter.

No one except--

The shame of it is that Mulcahy freezes. He stares at Hawkeye when he calls his name and stiffens when he's pulled in. He'd know that voice anywhere, that mop of black hair and those pale eyes, only when he last saw Hawkeye, more than half of his head had gone gray. Mulcahy bets that he doesn't look much better.

Hawkeye hugs him. Mulcahy can't tell if he's in another nightmare or not. Freedom like this feels like it should be three worlds away, not on his plate and in his lungs or fallen into his arms. Sure, there's the barrier, but this is... like being let from the barn into the fenced pasture after a long, long winter, having feared that no one would ever come to the door.

"... Hawkeye," he breathes, disbelieving. Slowly, his hand comes to rest on the man's back. As if he'd vanish again as soon as he touched him on his own. But cloth folds under his fingers, and there's body heat.

"... Oh, how I missed you," is all he gets out before he bursts into tears.

Edited 2024-03-07 20:31 (UTC)

"Hey hey hey-" he's missed Mulcahy but this is..?

"What- was I gone back home? I didn't- Father are you- here-"

Hawk retrieves a couple of napkins stuffed into his pocket (with the aforementioned pamphlet scribbled on them) for Mulcahy to dry his eyes with.

"I'm here. Y'know not even the nurses cry like that when I leave for rnr."

Mulcahy doesn't respond, not really; he's too busy making a mess of Hawkeye's shoulder, and it doesn't look like he's letting up anytime soon.

"It's been s-such--such a long time--"

And back to being a blubbering mess. It's fine. It's hard to be embarrassed anymore. He's got to do something with this well of grief that no amount of confessional to Abe or God could ever soothe.

Didn't even respond to his joke or his questions. This is...

Hawkeye presses him closer into the hug. He's all skin and bones on a good day, but this Hawk is worse than that.

"Hey- c'mon," he soothes, "it's okay. I'm here."

It didn't occur to him that any of the 4077 would miss him this much. Even Mulcahy, who has always been spared from his pranks.

"I missed you too, Red."

That old nickname. Years. It's been years.

Eventually the waterworks slow enough for him to grab for the napkins and wipe at his eyes, and though he breaks away slightly to see Hawkeye's face, he keeps an arm on his bony shoulder. Mulcahy in turn is older-looking than he would remember; his already-light hair has gone mostly silver, and there's a weariness etched into the new wrinkles of his face.

"My God," he breathes quietly. "Your face, your... how long have you been here? What... what's the last thing you remember before you got here, Hawkeye?"

Edited 2024-03-07 21:31 (UTC)

Hawkeye knows Mulcahy's face too well to not notice the difference in age. If people can arrive well after his time, then...

"A couple of months. Last I remember was... late '52, I was coming out of another marathon of surgery and then I woke up here. The hell happened to you, father? You didn't- how long has that war been going on for?"

Months. Only months. It truly isn’t him, and… yet, him all the same.

It’s better this way. Let that other, older Hawkeye rest. Let him not share in knowing what it’s like to drown in your own gore, or to play cards while you wait for someone to come from the brush to explode the lungs in your chest, or to wake up each morning to a bloodbath in the hall and step over the corpses to make it to breakfast. Let his heart stay unbroken. Let his memory be a blessing.

He shakes his head. “It wasn’t the war.” (Well it was, but his last day at camp wasn’t much later than ‘52.) “I’ve been…”

How do you even begin to explain this?

“Many of these new faces here are from a prison ship disguised as a vacation cruise. It was sort of like this, where it was full of people from all places and times. I’ve been there for years, Hawkeye.”

Beat. “It was a pretty lousy RNR if you ask me.”

"Years?"

And the question he really, really shouldn't ask.

"Where was I?"

The truthful answer is you lasted about ten months before you were thrown into the ship’s engine as fuel, but somehow he doesn’t think that’s a very productive thing to say.

“There’s a reason why you didn’t notice I was gone. The nature of our being there was… that we were copied into that ship. You were there for a while, too, but you… disappeared shortly before a year’s time. Many people came and went very suddenly.”

...

Hawkeye crushes Mulcahy back into a hug. It's insane, but Hawkeye got off the ferry and landed in the state of meshuga a few months ago, now.

"Sorry I didn't stick around," the last thing he wants is to leave any of his friends somewhere dangerous or scary by themselves. Mulcahy especially- he's always been a sweet and generally gentle man, usually. Him all alone on some nutty prison cruise...

Hawkeye hugs him again, and Mulcahy chokes out another thick sob, setting down his plate somewhere nearby to clutch at his thin (too thin, he’d know) frame with both of his hands. A memory springs to mind: Hawkeye sobbing into his shoulder, begging and apologizing for not being able to strangle his own feelings in the bed of his heart.

It’s funny, isn’t it. Before this, he had become a dull wound. A bundle of old regrets to set on the shelf, some silent and static reminder. But he’s here, and alive, and just like that everything’s bright and red again.

His answer is the same now as it was before. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Ah, father. Must be the priest bit, he's always so good at making Hawk feel absolved. For something he doesn't remember doing, in this case. He doesn't remember being in love with Mulcahy because this one wasn't. Only in the way he loves all his friends.

Hawk sniffs- "I've got my own clinic here set up all nice, after this you should come see it. A proper bed, too. You remember those? With mattresses?"

Mulcahy laughs aloud, wiping at his face. "Fortunately, I do! That was one of the few gifts we had on that ship. You loved lounging in yours. What I'm having much more difficulty recalling is food that isn't preserved in a can."

He has no clue why Number 2 did that. It was a magic realm, he completely didn't have to make everything in the grocery store cans.

"I'd love to see your clinic. It's good to see you settling in, Hawkeye. I'm at a bit of a loss of what to do myself considering the dearth of Christians, but they'll give me enough to live on until I find something."

Hawkeye laughs, "I do! Sometimes in between patients I go upstairs just to be in bed," he wipes at his face, sniffling a little.

"C'mon-" he retrieves Mulcahy's plate for him, "fresh food, I won't judge if you start crying, I nearly did. I'll show you around after. I know you'll get a room at the Oak and Iron but- do you want to take the couch at mine? Just while you're settling in, I want to look out for you."

One part of him jumps at the opportunity to stay with one of his closest old friends and to see him outside of the Army, outside of the Serena Eterna, to see Hawkeye where he is just and entirely Hawkeye. The other is terrified of breaking his heart again, and sees the beginning of the rhyme.

It doesn't matter. What is he going to do--say no?

"That's very generous of you," he says, squeezing his shoulder. "I'd love to. It'd be nice to see you the way you are when you're not being drafted."

Edited 2024-03-08 00:19 (UTC)

Hawk scoops Mulcahy's head up against his chest with a hand, kissing him again atop his sanctified little head.

"Nobody's called me sir in months. Aside from John Jay, but- I feel like myself again. No choppers, no bombs- I get to sleep in some mornings. The height of luxury."

More or less.

"C'mon-" he releases Mulcahy again, "eat, I only spoon feed people when they're sick."

Mulcahy can't help the smile splitting his face as Hawkeye squishes him in, oh God he missed him so much.

"You don't need to tell me twice," he quips as he turns to dive into his food. Real food, fresh food, not canned or dreamed up by an impossible pocket in between universes. Do not mind the possibly impolite noises he makes while he does so. It's been a long time.

"Good, right?" Hawk agrees, grabbing a fork to pilfer a piece of potato.

"I forgot that food tastes better when it remembers what the earth is as a concept. When you get settled in I've gotta introduce you to everyone too- Chris, Sally, Angel, John Jay, John Watson- they're all a bunch of characters, but you're used to that."

"Mmm--" Mulcahy chews, swallows. "Yes, of course, really I can't wait to see what kind of company you've picked up here--"

... Hey, hang on. This wouldn't normally give him any pause, but after so much time spent with people from across all kinds of places...

"... did you say John Watson?"

"Uh yeah- army surgeon guy, with a cane and a mustache. Can't miss him. Why?"

Edited 2024-03-08 02:14 (UTC)

"I can't help but be curious to know if he has a friend named Sherlock."

"He's British, Father. His entire unit in Afghanistan were probably all called John Watson. You can ask if you want, but he'll probably just laugh at you."

Guess who hasn't had certain things explained to him yet.

"Well, there's every chance that could be the case, but I wouldn't be so sure. I've seen some very peculiar things you know."

You know, like his seven-foot-tall three-eyed ram-headed shadow demon friend who could mysteriously store and retrieve items from an invisible "inventory."

He's gonna bury himself in this sushi a little bit more.

"Oh yeah?" Hawkeye asks, unknowing, "like what?"

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cw references to death, murder, gore

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