"Forever in a Promise"
A reply to the 5-min-challenge of Friday, April 25th. Opener "Promises -"
Pairing: Hawkeye/ Trapper
Archive: mash-slash, then at T'Len's & Lady Charena's place, and as for other private sites, gladly so, if only the owners ask in advance!
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of 20th Century Fox, and as much as I'd love to take them on a cruise of the Mediterranean as a reward for my efforts (I'd never take moneyJ), they're not mine.
Promises, nothing but promises...what else can there be but promises?
Guarantees, oaths, vows, assurances, and, alas, commitment.
Merely synonyms for one and the same thing.
Many promises are made here in Hell; it would be Heaven if all of them were kept. Fear and loneliness are parents to a multitude of promises, even though the offspring rarely survive for long.
In this place nobody needs reminding of the fact that promises, like everything, are subject to politics and policies, be they decided on by generals, mere soldiers, or lovers. Or none of the above. The end result's the same, promises are as mortal as the people making them.
A leader's promise of peace.
A doctor's promise of an end to the pain.
A priest's promise of life after death.
A psychiatrist's promise of sanity.
A friend's promise of love everlasting.
Promise to promise, dust to dust.
The question is which promise to believe and whom to trust. When that question comes up, all the people who were so quick to promise, vow and guarantee, remain silent.
Nobody can afford to let promises mean too much, for there will be hurt waiting down the road. You won't miss it. And it won't miss you. It's inevitable, but sometimes there'll be someone to pick up the pieces before they get lost in the dust to be swallowed by Korea, that ever-hungry entity that feeds on all things broken and dead.
Yeah, sometimes there'll be someone to give you a reason to reassemble your broken self.
Sometimes, though, you have to do it all by yourself. You get the hang of it, I promise. It's a survival skill everybody acquires sooner or later.
Sooner, rather than later, I'd say.
It started out simple, four simple words. "I won't hurt you." That's all there was to it, the basics, the first lie, pretty harmless still. Since then, we've progressed to "I love you".
Standing by the other cot, prepared to retreat to mine for a night filled with only the vaguest promise of sleep, I gaze down on yet another…well, promise.
Who, just now, is whispering, "Just stay with me. Please."
For a moment I can pretend that it was the wind stirring the dead leaves outside, just a random sound, the request as well as the answer. "Sure." With one step, I cross the distance, and all those sharp-edged fragments covering the floor cut into the soles of my feet. I hardly feel it. I have grown accustomed to walking on broken promises.
The ones that follow now are too faint to be heard, sighs in the darkness emphasized only by hands that already know too much. Promises made in silence will be broken in silence and in silence the pieces will fall.
Strange how we seem to thrive on the dark side of things, how pain never seems to make us cry...but happiness does.
Every time we are this close, bliss translates as the promise of tears in your eyes. "I love you."
If only it wouldn't hurt this much… "Yeah, same here, Trap."
Another promise, another commitment, another loss.
Why does someone – anyone – have to lose anything – anyone - at all?
Forever is an illusion in Korea, an illusion which promises turn into a temporary reality. Not ours.
After all, forever's something you never promised me.