M*A*S*H 4077th

"Oh, uh -- "

He shakes off enough of the cloud to huff a wry, self-deprecating noise. "Thank you," he says as he steps inside. "I didn't want to come in uninvited, if you're already on edge from a home invasion."

Once over the threshold, Gaeta rummages through his bag again.

"I don't know how much of an appetite you have, but I brought some pastries, too. Interested?"

From:

"My, Gaeta. If I knew you were going to try and sell me something the moment I let you in, I would have left you out there."

This is all delivered with a laughing tone as he takes the single candle he'd lit in the house to go and light a few of the oil lamps. Peter, sensing a visitor, comes floating in to eye Gaeta cautiously.

He sets down the candle as he circles back. "I would appreciate one. Thank you very much."

From:

"Lucky for you, I'm not driving a particularly hard bargain today," says Gaeta lightly. "Zero brass. Get it while it lasts."

He offers a brief grin along with one of the pastries when Mulcahy circles back. "You're very welome, sir. -- And what about you?" he adds to Peter, eyebrows lifted. "What, do you want breakfast, too?"

He's all set to break off part of his own pastry to give the Klefki a bite. What can he say? He's a soft touch.

From:

Mulcahy glances up. "Hm? Oh--come on in, Peter. Gaeta's a friend." To him: "Don't worry too much about it. He has his own breakfast, but he's a careful sort of fellow. Very protective."

A small plate is produced to put the pastry on, one for each of them. Peter floats into the room and settles into a high spot to watch, rather like an irritable cat.

From:

Gaeta chuckles. "Sounds like a good pet to have. Especially, ah, right now."

Gingerly, he takes a seat, propping his cane nearby before digging out the second coffee flask for himself. He spares another glance for Peter. "Is he able to... I don't know. Sound the alarm at all? Or is he too quiet for that?"

From:

“Oh, he’s quite loud. I found that out one night when he got spooked by a groundhog in the yard, before I started teaching him what to look out for. He made this incredibly loud screeching noise like scraping metal. Startled me terribly until I found out it was only him.”

From:

[ Mulcahy laughs mildly. ]

While I've always appreciated the reverence and respect that seems to be almost universally paid to these spaces, I've also often found them to be... a tad stuffy. Some of my fondest memories of church have been because of the little children having a little bit of independence.

[ He breaks off a piece of a roll for himself. ]

So what was it that you wanted to speak about?

From:

There can be such a thing as taking it too seriously. You're too focused on your presence and not being present.

[César's expression dims a bit, and then he looks up to Mulcahy.]

Two things, really. Grief: my parents were vaporized saving the world and my baby brother lost his memory, and I'm working through the loss of our family and my old self. And... faith: I want to set up a simple and private prayer space in a small wall cabinet of my bedroom.

[He makes a bit of an awkward face, realizing he should've started with the second one first, and also he doesn't want to admit the reason he needs to be able to close the door is because he'd feel the eyes of any crucifix he had would be. watching him. when Magne and him had sex. often. while incredibly unmarried.

César truncates that thought, turns one half of his roll upside down, and bites it, wanting to have the soft inside against his tongue while he tears the outside with his teeth. Look. It's a sensory thing.]

From:

"Good, uh... key ring," says Gaeta, amused but approving. He lifts his coffee toward the Klefki. "Mostly. If that woke me up, I would've thought it was a hull failure and dropped dead of a heart attack, not -- how I ended up dying."

You know. Being executed at the end of a launch tube.

After a moment's hesitation, Gaeta rubs the back of his head, faintly embarrassed. "I'm going into CIC mode," he says, wry. "I can feel it. See a problem, try to fix it. But -- honestly, I don't know. What do you need to feel safer, Father?"

From:

"Believe me, my first thought had been that a tank had utterly flattened a jeep in my kitchen." Beat. "Those would be large military land vehicles."

He goes quiet for a moment, mulling over his share of pastry and coffee.

"I wish I knew," he murmurs. "Well, I do know. I'd like to be sure that I won't have my house broken into. But I don't know what you could possibly do about it. And..."

He presses his thumbs together until the tips turn white, then lets them go. "If I'm being very, very honest. I don't know if I'm really all that more scared than I usually am. All that's really changed is that one of my fears is suddenly much more material than usual."

From:

The shrine is easy. I can have that commissioned and set up for you in no time. As for the rest...

[ He's quiet for a moment. ] Thankfully, I have quite a bit of experience with grief. I was a hospital chaplain, and after that an army chaplain working in a frontline hospital, and I have... lost quite a few people close to me. I sympathize with the feeling and I've done the rites.

What do you think would help you, César? If you'd like, we could perform a funeral of some sort. Perhaps a memorial plaque could be set up somewhere. Or none of that at all, and something else entirely.

From:

[César starts to try to think of what to say about the first, but the second makes him pause. He chews as he lets that settle in. The father has been on the front lines of war....]

... I'd like a small funeral and some sort of headstone I can visit to talk to them. To work through the spiritual side of grief. It's my duty as their eldest son—something I need to do.

And for the shrine—I can make the shelves—I have a woodshop and some skill—and an excess of money to cover the cost of what goes on it. No candles, too dangerous. I just... can't bless things.

[He pauses and then pulls out a small ring box, opening it to reveal his parents' wedding ring and his mother's engagement ring.] These... somehow washed ashore. I plan to get a chain to keep them with me.

From:

Gaeta exhales. "Yeah, I know how that goes," he murmurs. "The background noise gets... foregrounded, by something, but it's always there either way."

His mouth twists a bit.

"Still. If you'll, ah, let me be the biggest hypocrite in the worlds for a second -- " The twist resolves into a brief, humorless smile. "A bad week's sleep only makes it worse."

From:

Mulcahy laughs quietly.

"I... I suppose... even though I have company in the house with Peter, being the only person here at night doesn't help." Or having a window facing Hawkeye's, who still has his curtains drawn tightly shut. "But I don't know what I could do about that, except perhaps going back to the Oak and Iron."

From:

[ When César addresses the aspect of blessing, something about the situation suddenly becomes material to Mulcahy. It bears more weight, becomes more real. That he is a priest, and he is being called upon. That he can believe in the necessity of himself to help others. ]

That'll all be very easy to organize.

[ His gaze falls on the rings. After all this time, his thoughts still fall to all the boyish soldiers who only dreamed of such things. ]

Those are lovely, César. Do... would you like me to do something with them, or are you just sharing this with me? I am humbled either way.

From:

Well...

Another solution, immediate and obvious, pops into Gaeta's mind. A solution that also feels -- overly familiar? Too intimate?

Too trusting, murmurs an equally obvious thought. And that, paradoxically, is what pushes Gaeta into making the offer. Hasn't he already trusted Mulcahy with plenty already? First with a few pieces of his past; then the Father's reassurance that not every monotheist on the island was in alignment with the Cylons. Hell, if it weren't for Mulcahy keeping his head during the cult visitation, Gaeta would have lost his own altogether.

"Well, if all you need is an extra warm body on the couch," he says, "I could stay over."

From:

His eyes go wide. "Oh..."

He turns slightly, his gaze slipping down past Gaeta as he thinks. The first thing his mind reaches for is, of course, the fear. That somehow, such a generous offer and arrangement will go hideously, bizarrely wrong, somehow. Some factor that they forgot to account for will slither through the cracks and bite them both. And if something external doesn't ruin it, maybe something internal will. There's nowhere to hide; Gaeta will see Mulcahy for who he is at the core, unadorned. He's not sure if he wants that pity.

But he is trying to help, and Mulcahy so badly wants to sleep.

"Are you sure? I wouldn't ask you to stay any more often than you are comfortable with, of course. Even still, we have no idea how long that dirt man will be around..."

Edited Date: 2024-08-08 07:58 am (UTC)

From:

[It feels a little more real for César, too. Talking about the funeral, headstones, and the blessing of the shrine.]

Thank you. I—thank you.

[César's lower lip trembles for a moment..]

Just sharing. I haven't told Magne, yet. I want to wait until she's had longer with her normal life and business before marriage comes up. [You know, the brothel. César makes a slightly needy noise, despite his pain.] God, I want to marry her.

From:

[ A fondness warms his expression like sunlight. Love persists in the darkest places, and Marrow Island is only a little dim. It’s a wonderful sight that’s in front of him, and César has more than shown himself to be an incredibly thoughtful man. ]

Of course. Both of you, take all the time that you need. But for when you have need of an officiant… I know you said you couldn’t do a Catholic wedding, but I did serve for the other denominations back in my unit, since I was the only chaplain around. Sometimes even other faiths—although I always made sure to defer to the right leaders for that, in the case that I couldn’t send for them altogether.

From:

"I'm sure." The certainty he places on those words is as much for his own benefit as Mulcahy's: if he says it firmly enough, he'll convince that last little wavering part of himself that it's true. "Even if I can't stay over all the time, you'll still get a few nights of sleep on an actual bed. It'll be better than sleeping in your yard the whole time."

From:

[César can't help but smile now. It's clear how much he loves Magne; just thinking about her makes his mood lift, if even for a moment.]

That's good to know for when we start planning. [He laughs.] I'm definitely a man with simple needs, but I'll share the planning load evenly.

[Mulcahy's earlier words snap back from César's subconscious: frontline military hospital. His chest tightens, his eyes distancing as his smile falls; he's seeing something else.]

I'm a scientist, so I've only seen the medical teams and caskets from afar when they arrive at the base.

[He breathes out—in.] Those casualties I almost ceased for everyone... but of those sins I'm not yet ready to speak. ... a third thing. [To talk about. César looks down to find his bread in his lap now that he's holding the rings, and he goes quiet, brows furrowing. A fourth: Rex's career, a thought he must chew on.]

From:

Mulcahy casts his gaze downwards. He half-laughs and shakes his head, wipes his eye.

“Very well. If that’s what you’d like to do. I… thank you, Gaeta, very much.”

From:

"You're welcome."

Gently said; and that's all Gaeta says for a bit, letting Mulcahy take the moment he needs. Discreetly, he nudges one of the napkins a little closer to Mulcahy just in case.

When he eventually speaks up again, his voice stays quiet. "I don't think I got the chance to thank you, for, ah. Helping me stay present at the cult gathering."

From: