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crack_van2008-12-31 06:27 pm
hobsonphile.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2008-12-31 06:27 pm
the hours between dawn and nothing by furies
I wish I could've spaced these out more, but December succeeded in distracting me in so many ways. Alas. At any rate, I am now forced to smack you all with a bunch of recs at once on this final night of 2008. I apologize in advance for being spammy.
Fandom: M*A*S*H
Pairing: None. (perhaps Hawkeye/BJ if you choose to read it that way)
Length: 8,820 words
Rating: PG
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
furies
Author Website: running through the tulips
Why this must be read:
Written for Yuletide 2006, this story is a classic of the fandom's post-war genre. Though it is, above all things, a vehicle for BJ, it does justice to the entire ensemble - and it conveys BJ's sense of dislocation in a manner that is true to character and to life.
The first thing he did when he got home to Mill Valley was shave. Peg laughed at his mustache, and BJ just grinned. He wasn't sure why he started growing it in the first place, especially since most of the time it tickled and Hawk would try to get food stuck in it, but it was part of Korea, and Korea was over.
The brand new razor felt like silver against his skin. The water was warm, and drained in the sink without thought. He lathered up with the new cream Peg bought him, and relished in the smell. It smelled nothing like sterility, nothing like the army, nothing like Korea. There was a hint of trees, a hint of Northern California.
He was home.
BJ walked through the house, which hadn't changed much in his absence, but seemed like a ghost of the house he left behind, the tiny house on a small hill. He trailed his hand along the walls, stopped to looked at the framed pictures of Erin over the mantle. He had every one of them memorized, but it was somehow different.
He hadn't been there. He didn't see her first pull herself across the floor, then crawl, moving from a quadruped to a little human being. He didn't hear her first word (which wasn't "Daddy"). He didn't blow out the candles on her birthday cake the first year - or the second.
Of course, she didn't recognize him at first. Erin clung to Peg's leg, and shyly looked up at BJ. BJ smiled, but his heart was breaking. "Give it time," Peg whispered. She told him she showed Erin his picture every night before bed when they said their prayers (BJ doesn't say he no longer believes in God) but still, there's something different, and BJ knows it. He changed in Korea, he grew up, he faced the reality that the world was a dirty, ugly place. What were they thinking, bringing a child into this?
Colonel Potter once told him that family was what made it all worthwhile. BJ knows he's right, that there's no point in regrets, there's only moving forward.
But what about the family he left behind in Korea?
the hours between dawn and nothing
Fandom: M*A*S*H
Pairing: None. (perhaps Hawkeye/BJ if you choose to read it that way)
Length: 8,820 words
Rating: PG
Author on LJ:
furiesAuthor Website: running through the tulips
Why this must be read:
Written for Yuletide 2006, this story is a classic of the fandom's post-war genre. Though it is, above all things, a vehicle for BJ, it does justice to the entire ensemble - and it conveys BJ's sense of dislocation in a manner that is true to character and to life.
The first thing he did when he got home to Mill Valley was shave. Peg laughed at his mustache, and BJ just grinned. He wasn't sure why he started growing it in the first place, especially since most of the time it tickled and Hawk would try to get food stuck in it, but it was part of Korea, and Korea was over.
The brand new razor felt like silver against his skin. The water was warm, and drained in the sink without thought. He lathered up with the new cream Peg bought him, and relished in the smell. It smelled nothing like sterility, nothing like the army, nothing like Korea. There was a hint of trees, a hint of Northern California.
He was home.
BJ walked through the house, which hadn't changed much in his absence, but seemed like a ghost of the house he left behind, the tiny house on a small hill. He trailed his hand along the walls, stopped to looked at the framed pictures of Erin over the mantle. He had every one of them memorized, but it was somehow different.
He hadn't been there. He didn't see her first pull herself across the floor, then crawl, moving from a quadruped to a little human being. He didn't hear her first word (which wasn't "Daddy"). He didn't blow out the candles on her birthday cake the first year - or the second.
Of course, she didn't recognize him at first. Erin clung to Peg's leg, and shyly looked up at BJ. BJ smiled, but his heart was breaking. "Give it time," Peg whispered. She told him she showed Erin his picture every night before bed when they said their prayers (BJ doesn't say he no longer believes in God) but still, there's something different, and BJ knows it. He changed in Korea, he grew up, he faced the reality that the world was a dirty, ugly place. What were they thinking, bringing a child into this?
Colonel Potter once told him that family was what made it all worthwhile. BJ knows he's right, that there's no point in regrets, there's only moving forward.
But what about the family he left behind in Korea?
the hours between dawn and nothing