It's after the dinner call's come and went. Not that most of the unit stands on that level of formality, but most of the Marines Dickey's travelling with are still new to this entire 'Korea thing', and hence a little more 'on the clock'. Dickey's been and eaten, and now has retired to a tent on the outer perimeter of the area, where 'transients and reporters' get stuck when they come through. New faces who aren't wounded might be a novelty, but when the novelty has a camera attachment, it wears off faster. Currently, Dickey's on the floor of the tent, rolling up and packing her parachute with the studiousness of someone who's done this before, but not often enough for comfort. There is a knock at the door. It's quiet and deferential and apologetic. It's the knock of a schoolboy at the principal's office. Dickey Chapelle calls out without looking up, "Come on in, but if you're after my booze or my chocolate, you're out of luck. If you're after my body, it's negotiable." She figures it's one of the Marines, obviously, who she's fallen into regular easy banter with. She goes on rolling the chute. "That's the best offer I've had all week." Hawkeye sticks his head round the door, not quite coming in but not quite staying outside either. "Hi." Eyebrows go up. "Oh, it's you." She half-turns to look Hawkeye up and down, then turns back to what she's doing. "Coming to make sure I've had all my shots, doc, or to make sure I'm not breaking any more military commandments? If so, I'll tell you what I told 'em on Iwo - I intend to go right on breaking the rules until you ground me, and then I'll just sneak in." Ducking inside, Hawkeye closes the door behind him, and sticks his hands in his pockets. The better to slouch and look guilty. "Listen, I..." Articulacy deserts him when he really needs to get serious. "...I just, I just wanted to apologise." Dickey Chapelle doesn't seem quite astonished enough. Her hat doesn't fall off, though she does pause for a minute in what she's doing. "So I suppose this means you want the negatives?" Blink. "What? No." Hawkeye shakes his head, and he still looks intensely ashamed of himself. "I just...look, I had no reason to blow up at you the way that I did. You didn't deserve to be spoken to like that and I'm sorry." "Sit down, doc, and take a load off your feet. You're on your feet often enough." It's not quite said kindly, but hey, she's not biting just yet. Dickey starts lacing the chute up. "So if you had no reason to blow up at me, well, there had to be -some- reason it happened. Unless you're going nuts, and you don't seem it to me. Cranky, sure, but not full-out loony tunes yet. So why did you?" The ten million dollar question. Not going nuts yet. Let's not bother taking a vote. Hawkeye looks around for somewhere to sit and parks himself on the edge of Dicky's bunk. He sits forward, elbows on knees, hands dangling. "I guess I just..." Huh. Why did I. "I'm very protective of my patients. I wasn't really mad at you, I was mad at the war." Moment of shining self-knowledge there. Note the date. Dickey Chapelle sits up, straightening her camo cap and turning it around so it's backwards, the bill hence out of the way. "Nothing wrong with protectiveness. Means you're a good doctor. But believe it or not, I don't make a ton of money off my work." She hefts the parachute, and puts it in the corner with a little toss. "I like to think I do some good in my own way, even if I don't have a medical degree." Mmf. Don't want to argue with her again. "I still shouldn't have gone off at you like that. You were right, it was unprofessional. More than that, it was unfair." Hawkeye risks actually looking at her. "I'm sure you do what you can." Dickey Chapelle leans back against a foot locker, folding her arms across her chest and grinning sardonically. "Listen, doc, I don't mind you having an opinion which's different from mine, okay? But let's -not- be adults." What? She holds up a hand. "You didn't mishear. I don't play silly party games. Skip being polite - you don't agree and you don't think I do good in my way. Okay, say that instead of 'I'm sure you do what you can'. Unlike Major Colt, I'm not a debutante." That gets her a grin. Hawkeye sits up straighter, uneasily amused. "Well...I'm not convinced the press is really making any difference. I've been out here a long time and the only things that're less effective in bringing an end to the fighting are the peace talks." Dickey Chapelle shrugs. "That's kind of missing the point. The pictures I take - the stories I write - the stuff /any/ of us write... it's meant only secondarily for the people back home. If it convinces someone, great - but it does keep it in the public mind, and it means the politicians can't forget about you guys. You can't forget about you guys - you're /here/, in the middle of it. But I can tell you, it's very easy for the folks back home to quietly go about their lives, and just grumble about the rise in prices here and there, and sort of... well, skim over it. News and pictures can be turned off on the television, or the page turned in the newspapers... but it takes more effort." She lifts her hands to lace them behind her head. "Anything which makes it harder for them to forget can only help. And that's still not the main reason why this stuff needs to be done." "Oh yeah?" Hawkeye watches her, expression held extremely neutral. "What's the main reason?" "People forget. When it's over, they want to forget. And when they forget, they do it again." Dickey crosses her legs, stretching them out. "You're not that much younger than me, doc. Where were you in the War?" By which, of course, she means World War II. "I was at school." Hawkeye isn't sure he likes where this is going. And not just because forgetting is his usual method of handling just about everything. Dickey Chapelle leans forward, putting her hands on her knees. "I was in the Pacific, taking pictures of Marines getting shot up and killed on Iwo Jima." She doesn't go into much detail, figuring Hawkeye really isn't interested in hearing her war stories. "You know those two pictures they use back home, to convince people to donate blood - the Marine who was shot and then worked on, before receiving blood and then twentyfour hours after receiving fourteen pints of blood?" It's still being used, in some areas, the two pictures looking like two completely different men. "You took that picture?" All right, he's prepared to concede. But he still probably wouldn't have let those pictures be taken if it was *his* patient. Hawkeye eyes the wall of the tent. "And yet here we are." In other words, the pictures you took last time didn't stop the war this time. Dickey Chapelle says "It doesn't matter if I took them or not." She shakes her head, not willing to concede her point. "Here we are. Humans are a stubborn race, doctor, but eventually, if we stick our fingers in the fire often enough, we learn... if only because there's burn marks. My pictures are those burn marks." There is a moment's pause. Hawkeye returns his attention to the floor, head dipping, eyes closing just briefly. "...I think there I'll have to disagree with you." He looks up, a depth of misery showing. "We don't learn." Dickey Chapelle smiles a little, though it's not like she thinks it funny, and for a moment, she looks as tired as any other person who's been through the hell that's referred to as 'war', her years settling on her fully. "We do. Just... not fast enough, doc. Not fast enough." She sits up, pulling her knees up, a semblance of vigour returning. "And not at all, if noone's willing to teach. You can't teach with no proof - so these pictures, let them be there twenty, thirty years from now, the next time some cranky old man in the Senate decides he has to waste lives to make a point. And the next time, and the next - and maybe, someday, we'll learn. I wish I could be there to see it, but I'll be dead by then." "I just don't see it making any difference." Hawkeye is quiet and serious, and he doesn't *have* any extra energy to put into this at the moment. His little temper tantrum really took it out of him. "I'd like to think so. But it just keeps on going. Germany, Japan, Korea. The Nazis, the Communists, there's always someone to hurt and be hurt by." Dickey Chapelle says "And is that a reason to give up, doc?" Her eyebrows shoot up again. She's not angry, but she's -going- to make her point - it's easy to see why she gets along so well with the Marines, with this sort of drive. "I don't see you walking away from your patients, even if you know more people're going to get hurt. And until it's over, I'm not walking away, either... I just do what I do in a way that's not the same as yours." Don't see him walking away. But he would if he could, if conscience and morals would allow, because he's tired. He's very tired. Hawkeye exhales and summons up a half-smile. It's sad, but it's a smile. "I understand. I just...want it to be over." "Wars don't last forever. They just feel like they do. You're not alone, doc." Dickey is sympathetic, even if her own conscience and morals are, well, different, or move her to act differently. "You want a drink?" Oh God yes. My name is Ben and I might perhaps have something of a drinking problem. "Yeah, that'd be great." Hawkeye runs a hand through his hair and attempts to shake off the gloom. "Just one, though. I've heard about women like you." Dickey Chapelle reaches into her dufflebag, leaning over to rummage for the bottles. "Only heard? Doc, you haven't lived until you'd done more than just -listened-." She tosses a mini-bottle of vodka across. "Skoal." Hawkeye catches the bottle neatly and uses the bedframe to knock the cap off. "Slainte," he says amiably, and downs the vodka in one. And coughs, very quietly. They don't get a lot of vodka around here, as a rule. "Well, not *just* heard. Though we don't get many around here like you." "You don't find too many around anywhere like me, doc. I'm one of a kind." Dickey grins, pulling out another bottle for herself, twisting off the cap and taking a swallow. "There's probably a reason for that, though. - Why, what's so odd about me?" "Well, you're..." Hawkeye pauses, taking a better look at her, the usual meaningless compliments which are more-or-less automatic abandoned for now. "You're the most...*alive* person I've seen in a long time." Dickey Chapelle laughs and shakes her head. "There's a lot for me to live for, doc. What would be the point of giving up as long as there's a world out there?" She grins cheerfully, the chip showing slightly on her front tooth. "After the War, I travelled around in Germany and Eastern Europe. People rebuild, you know. It's amazing." She doesn't mention some of the downsides, because, well, what would be the point? "There's too much out there for me to ever give up. They want my life, they'll have to take it from me." "I'd drink to that if I had another." Hawkeye is so subtle in his hinting. And doesn't say, yeah, people rebuild, and then they knock down, and then they rebuild, and the people who knock stuff down are more numerous and better-equipped than the people who put back together again. But that's what he's thinking. Dickey Chapelle reaches into the bag again, grinning. "Such a smooth character, no wonder you get all the gals." She lobs underhanded, a bottle of rum this time - random choices. "You should see what they did in Hungary. Didn't get to stay there long, at least, not in my official capacity, but... it was pretty impressive." Hawkeye catches this one too. Start laying bets now on how many he'll have to drink before he starts missing them totally. "I'm sure someday someone'll come along with a bigger bulldozer." Okay, so maybe he is inclined to look on the dark side today. Dickey Chapelle shakes her head. Not gonna let Hawkeye ruin her mood, nope. Then again, if what she's seen and done hasn't, can anything? "Hawk, if you learn anything from all this, don't let it be that humans are destructive, meanspirited runts. You can learn that on any kindergarten playground." She leans back again, taking another swallow from her vodka. "Instead, let it be that for every ounce, every particle of human suffering, hatred and despair, there exists a chance to make it /right/. And you're one of the ones who does." And now looks like a really good time to drink that bottle. The rum goes the way of the vodka. "We could do with a few more on our side of the balance scale." Hawkeye shakes his head and pushes to his feet, not even slightly drunk yet. "I didn't come here to offload at you, I think I've done enough of that for one day." He doesn't particularly want to leave, though, and makes no move towards the door. "What makes you think you're offending me?" Dickey grins, standing up as well, moving so she's in between Hawkeye and the door. "Besides, I'm only here for another day, doc. You gonna send me off without a proper chance to get to know each other?" Dickey is many things, but subtle isn't one of them. Just to make -sure- Hawkeye knows what she's talking about, she shrugs out of her jacket, leaning back against the doorframe, still grinning. And to think, a few hours ago he would have turned her down flat. Anger does funny things to people. "Well. If it's a matter of good *manners*..." Hawkeye leans a hand on the doorframe above her head. "Wouldn't want to rush off." Dickey Chapelle's grin just broadens a few millimeters. "What time do you have to be up? So I know whether to just nudge you or call you, for breakfast." And she moves forward. **** Six P.M. and dinner's over, the sun starting its inevitable descent. Not quite sunset yet, though. Dicky's out front of her tent, bags packed, geeky black glasses firmly perched on the end of her nose, grinning and chatting with a burly Marine NCO. "So, I told him, that's not the end you want to eat, Major." Dinner, hah, who has time. Hawkeye dashes around a corner, still in bloodied scrubs. They're rather pleasant what with the humidity and all. "You know they usually love me and leave me," he says, skidding to an effective stop in the mud, "but this is ridiculous. Hi." Dickey Chapelle turns from the Marine, who's still chuckling over her story. "Well, hey there, doc. Aren't you afraid of getting desterilized?" She waggles her eyebrows. "Mind you, I'm a pretty dirty sort of gal. Come to see me off?" "I'll see you any way you like." Hawkeye spares the Marine a glance, but he's not here to see that guy, he's here to see Dickey. Leaning against the jeep, he tilts his head and watches her. "You're really going to the front, huh." "Well... yup." She nods her head slowly, watching Hawkeye from over the rims of her glasses. "Really really. You want me to bring back souveniers, I can try, but they don't tend to have much in the way of stands, there." Dicky tries to defuse potential tensions with a mild joke, and a grin that reveals the chip on her front tooth again. Knowing what Hawkeye knows now, he can probably guess she didn't get it falling off her bike after all, as a kid. That grin is irresistible and Hawkeye looks away, smiling briefly. "Nah, I'll wait for the movie. I don't have enough room in my bags now. You know how it is, you always go home with more than you brought along." He looks back at her again. "Listen, I just...will you at least try and be careful?" Dickey Chapelle says "I'm always careful, doc." Which is a bald-faced lie, and they probably both know it, but it has to be said. "Besides, if I don't come back, how much good's my film going to be to anybody?" Don't tell me not to go, the set of her shoulders says, even if her smile and bright eyes don't. "I'd give you my phone number, but by the time we both get home, you'd've lost it, and besides, we both know we wouldn't call." Hawkeye doesn't tell her not to go, not in so many words. But everything about his demeanour says it. Don't go. You'll get hurt. "You know, I meant what I said. We don't get many through here like you." It's like having two conversations. While her body language says, I really can't stay, I must be going, Dickey gives Hawkeye another grin. "Thank god for that, eh, doc? Let's face it - two weeks from now, you'd be chasing me around, trying to feed me my own film, for trying to sneak into the OR to take pictures. Don't worry, Hawkeye." Wow, she said his name. "I'll be fine, I've got a whole squad of big Marines to protect me." Absently, she adjusts one of the gold french knot earrings she wears. "Really, I'll be fine." But baby, it's cold outside. Hawkeye is not oblivious to his elevation to first-name status. He watches her fiddle with the earring and has to fight back an impulse to tackle her and force her to stay. "Yeah, but who's gonna protect them?" Sigh. "Yeah." Dickey Chapelle lifts the camera that's around her neck. "Tell you what, Hawk. I'll do my best to protect them while they do their best to protect me. Sound fair? And if you're a very good boy, when I get home I'll send you a picture of me." A golden grin. "Usually I stay on this side of the camera." She's doing the grin again. No fair. "That'd be fantastic," says Hawkeye, casting the camera a sideways look. "Nobody'd believe my bragging without it." Dickey Chapelle laughs, and her hat almost falls off. "Oh, so you're going to kiss and tell, are you? Well... I'll forgive you. This once. I'll just tell everyone how I bagged this really cute doctor while I was out in Korea.. and tell them to visit you in Maine for some old-fashioned bedside manner." Now, that's just below the belt, but she's determined to leave Hawkeye in if not a good mood, something close to it. She sobers, smiling a little bit wistfully. "Listen, I gotta go." And it works, too, eliciting a genuine smile. Hawkeye pushes off the jeep to stand relatively upright, and glances down at himself. "I'd hug you, but I know how ladies hate to get their shirts stained." "Oh, for - you think that's going to stop me? C'mere, you." Dickey steps forward to grab Hawkeye. "And don't worry about me, okay? It wouldn't've worked out anyway." It's a fierce hug, as they tend to be in these situations. Hawkeye briefly turns his head sideways to catch the smell of her tucked-away hair. "You're probably right. I have these four nurses I already have to marry." He doesn't sound like he genuinely thinks it's funny. Dickey Chapelle reaches up to ruffle Hawkeye's hair, hugging back tightly before semi-reluctantly freeing herself. "They're waiting for me on the other side," she murmurs, gesturing to where the jeeps are parked. Stooping, she shoulders her camera equipment and rucksack - she's already wearing the parachute. "If we come back this way, I'll make sure to stop by and see you, okay? Meantime, you take care of BJ. He needs you." And Hawkeye needs him, whereas she, well, Dickey needs to be in the field. She says again, smiling as she turns towards the jeeps, "I gotta go. Take care, okay?" Left standing alone, Hawkeye nods with the merest hint of a collapsing smile. "I will. Don't forget that picture! And if anyone gives you any trouble, tell me and I'll write them *such* a stern note." That gets a laugh out of her, and she turns as she reaches the jeeps. "I will. Really really. But you'll have to make do with a regular picture - no bathing beauties this season, doc." She tosses the rucksack up to one of the Marines, keeping hold of the camera equipment as she climbs into the back of the jeep. "I'll send a container of juniper berries with the picture, if I can bribe enough censors. It's bound to work sometime." Juniper berries. Fantastic. Hawkeye is having more trouble keeping up the facade now, though, and before his nerve fails he hops up onto the wheelguard of the jeep to try and steal a kiss. "Go on. Photograph their brains out." Dickey Chapelle laughs, leaning forward to -give- a kiss, even while the Marines in the jeep start whooping. The jeep starts to lurch into motion. "It ain't photographing men's brains out that I do best," she says with a wicked leer, smooching Hawkeye thoroughly before being forced to lean back and hang on. "Give my love to BJ, okay? And remember - it'll be over eventually. It really will. See you!" Dropping off the jeep and backing off in time not to get either flattened or particularly muddy, Hawkeye grins and waves after the jeep. "Take care!" He does not expect her to listen. And though she keeps waving, after a while the jeep is lost to sight as it goes round a curve in the road. But for all the good in the world it does, Hawkeye's last view of Dickey Chapelle includes her grinning her golden grin as she waves, surrounded by Marines.