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the5n00k · 25 days

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Hawkeye Pierce: The Good, The Bad, and The Unmilitary

The long awaited first official M*A*S*H character analysis

It's not a secret to anyone aware of this blog that I fucking love Hawkeye. This piece of shit lives rent free in my mind and has lived rent free for the past four months. Which is kind of why I've hesitated so long to make this because he means so much to me (also what's left for me to say about him, he's been around longer than I have, surely he's been analyzed and over analyzed more than I can imagine)

But I relate to him unfortunately so you're going to have to hear about him sorry <3

Her ass is rambling, this is a long post

Benjamin Franklin “Hawkeye” Pierce starts out the series loud and eccentric but relatively level headed most of the time compared to some of the other members of the 4077. Playboy, drinker, anarchist, and pacifist (by technicality only), his really formative episodes for his character going forward to me at least were Dr. Pierce and Mr Hyde and Sometimes You Hear The Bullet. Both his wish to do something, anything to stop the war and his declining mental health because of it are on full display in these episodes. The war took so much from him and keeps taking, especially when Henry dies and Trapper gets shipped home while he's away. He's a desperate animal clawing at the dirt just trying not to fall off the cliff. And he keeps slipping.

One of his biggest weaknesses as a bleeding heart is burning himself out or having zero self preservation. It's admirable how much he does for his patients and camp mates but most of the time it just looks like he has a death wish. But the admiration is exactly what he doesn't want. He's an attention whore sure, but every time he's ever been put on a pedestal he's tried to shake it off; dismissing the news reporters and even yelling at Radar for simply looking up to him. He covers up his self loathing with humor, childish antics, and self inflating bickering with the other surgeons to give him a fake sense of self worth despite thinking of himself so poorly. Just the way he treats himself with ridiculous drinking habits and poor self care in general is rather telling and only gets worse as the series goes on.

That being said, he is also strongly fixated on having a sense of normalcy, demanding more choices of food and taking showers whenever possible just like all the others scrambling to keep some sort of routine. He also frequently sets up dates with the nurses when he can not looking for anything serious. He falls in love/forms attachments really easily so that often gets him in trouble, especially when his coping mechanisms keep him from being real most of the time. And once he loves you, he holds on, still mourning the loss of Trapper throughout the later seasons as if he was dead. Moving on is not an option for him, often retreating back into memories voluntarily or not to cope with being drafted (Hawk's Nightmare, Bless You, Hawkeye, basically any episode where he talks extensively about Maine or his father)

And no matter what happens, no matter how much he hates it, Hawkeye knows he has to keep going or people will get hurt or worse. He knows he has to get up and keep doing his job because he has to. He doesn't like it. He'd rather literally be considered dead than get continuously screwed over by the army (The Late Captain Pierce) but he gets up anyway. Because people depend on him. There have been a few episodes where I believed his mental health may have been improving, after/around season 9, and then Goodbye, Farewell, and Amen happened and I was immediately destroyed.

His arc in GFA, like a lot of the other characters in that finale special, was perfect for his character. He was always claiming things like “sanity is a state of mind” (and talking about chickens a lot for some reason) so to have him finally, horrifically snap and lose it so badly Sidney found it necessary to keep him in a mental hospital felt like the trainwreck I had been anticipating for the entire series. He needed to stop repressing things and actually process the horrors he's seen, all of it stacking up is the reason he broke to begin with. Everyone else has more or less accepted their shitty situation of stitching together victims of the cruelty of warfare but he'd been fighting it for 11 seasons now (something around 4-5 years show time) and eventually the longer the unstoppable force pushes against the immovable object, one of them will break. Then to see him finally confront the fact that him and BJ will probably never see each other again and practically beg for the closure that Trapper never was able to give him and FINALLY get it was so satisfying and a perfect shot to send off the character with. BJ was the only one keeping him focused and on the right track when he'd start going too far, gave him some much needed reality checks, and was the only one to stick with him through everything. He knew every ugly secret and Hawkeye knew his. They both did terrible things in situations they never asked to be in. They were bonded in trauma and whether you read their relationship as romantic or not, they're probably the closest relationship in the series and I couldn't be happier with how they ended off.

Hawkeye is a deeply flawed character (dare I say… problematic) and while his change isn't immediately noticeable in the series, it is striking if you watch an episode from an early episode to a late one, especially regarding his relationship with Margaret. Across many episodes, they mutually earn each other's respect and actually become very good friends, probably second only to BJ and Hawkeye. They've also been through a lot of shit together and are very similar, reacting to the same insecurities and desires in completely different ways. (Affection craving, their disdain for senseless violence, deep seething rage for injustice, refusing to show weakness due to their high positions)

There's some indefensible things this character does I will admit and things that made me say “why would he say that” but in general, I believe he is a very well written example of PTSD and a strong-willed anti-war activist. The term activist is thrown around a lot online but he's pretty much the only one there trying to fix things, even if his efforts are unethical or straight up ineffective. I actually really love that he does some things that I hate. Seeing such a gritty and reactionary protagonist was so striking to me, his unpredictability made watching him react to things fascinating. He's a cornered animal desperately trying to escape being closed in on closer and closer until he lashes out. My job is nowhere near comparable to the mental turmoil of his but I found myself comparing his thought processes a lot to my own. He's self destructive, impulsive, and immature but his energy brings so much to the show and the characters around him. He has such a fondness for everyone in the 4077 that becomes more explicit in the big moments. He'd raise hell for anyone in that compound whether they asked for it or not. Or if they even needed it. He'd just raise hell. It's enrichment for him

#mash #mash 4077 #hawkeye pierce #character analysis #i didnt proof read this #i hope it's good #i was just rambling #because im in love with him #wait who said that #anyway happy autism awareness month everybody #go watch mash pretty please it's good

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eldritchaccident · 1 year

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Timing: Late last night/early this morning Location: On a boat motherfucker the ocean Feat: @mortemoppetere & @eldritchaccident Warnings: Gore, Unsanitary, brief mention of animal cruelty Summary: Teds and Emilio head out to the ocean to battle their emotions whoever trapped Pascal

He was already irritated. There was no reason for it, really. Sure, it’d been a weird couple weeks what with the mob kidnapping and the revelation that the well-dressed realtor was a little wolfier than he’d originally let on, but nothing that ought to make Emilio quite this annoyed.

Well. Nothing except for what was coming. The fact that he was about to be stuck on a damn boat with Teddy fucking Jones, where the only hope of escape would be diving into the goddamn ocean, was probably more than enough justification for the irritability coursing through his veins.

That and the fact that the asshole was late. Emilio glanced down at his watch, mouth set in a thin line. His ribs were still faintly aching from the less than hospitable treatment the now-dead mobsters had given him, but he’d managed to make it on time without issue. And he knew Teddy had a babysitter for their otter — he’d seen them throw out the call, and he knew Wicked’s Rest well enough to know someone would respond.

He was just about to pull out his phone and send an irritated message when the wind blew the familiar scent of sulfur his way. Great. Either Teddy was here, or the hellhound was back to finish the job.

Emilio kind of found himself hoping for the latter.

—

Well, it’d been a doozy of a day. The demon had places to be, people to track, and annoying detectives to meet up with but life had other plans. Funny how that goes, right? Teddy wasn’t one who liked being late. If they were going to piss someone off it was going to be intentional, and while Teds was there. There wasn’t any game to inconvenience someone like this. But no doubt Emilio was going to assume it was on purpose no matter what they said. Ugh. At that point it might be better to let the detective believe whatever the hell he wanted.

Every time Teddy got to thinking about this case, about finding the trapper, about any of this shit it always ended with another obsessive spiral. One where they couldn’t get the image of that smug dumb face out of their mind. Or at least what they had imagined a smug look on Emilio’s pretty little face might look like. Certainly sounded like he was throwing himself a little party when Ted had gone and taken his advice. Why the hell had they gone and done it so publicly? Ughhhh. Fuck. His stupid voice played over and over in the demon’s head, every time they reread any of the dumb texts the detective had sent.

Oh woe is me, I forgot how to enjoy things. I only know how to be angry all the time. Rah rah rah. Touch my dog and I’ll stab you. Aaaarrhgh.

The version of the man that lived rent free in Ted’s head was… not exactly a pleasant representation. Maybe it had to be. Had to amplify the obvious because it still felt like something was missing. Like this version of the man was a hollow mask, that something deeper lay beneath it. And of course, there was that thing Leviathan said. ‘Maybe he said thank you in another way you didn't quite catch.’ The hell was that supposed to mean? Emilio kept insisting that he hadn’t needed a rescue. Despite the fact that he had been knocked out and was about to be dog chow. There was a decision to be made and Teddy made it. They couldn’t go back and fix it. Let the man just– no.

No, that was never an option either. A harsh pit writhed and sank in the demon’s stomach just to think about it. Which was… confusing to say the least. Maybe it was just because Emilio was a (fucking infuriating, but still a) person, and Teddy hated seeing anyone suffer. Unless they really deserved it. In that case, didn’t he? Well, no– Being a prick didn’t mean you should have to go and die about it. He was trying to help the bear after all and that was… good? Maybe? He’d been trying to help Joy too. Didn’t know her at all. Which made things so much more complicated, made it so much harder to parse through.

It was too much. Hopefully, the demon thought, this case would shine a light on more than just who was out here hunting otters illegally. With a sigh and a shake, Teddy tried their best to purge all those thoughts from their mind before finally striding up to the spot on the docks where Emilio had texted them to meet up. Of course the man was standing there, under the lamppost looking like someone just kicked him the shin. Of course he was waiting for them there, and was going to be pissed that Teddy was… five minutes late? Maybe six?

It had been a long day, and it was going to be a longer night. Why the hell had they come up with this plan in the first place?

—

If there was some sense of relief at seeing Teddy approach the dock in one piece, it was only because they hadn’t fully paid him for this job yet. A deposit hardly equaled the full amount of Axis’s fee, and Emilio had spent a fair amount of time on research already. The leg work of this case was already done — all he needed now was to get on board Teddy’s stupid boat long enough to actually track down their perpetrator. And, unfortunately, Teddy needed to be alive and uninjured for Emilio to accomplish that. If they wanted to go and die after they’d paid him, that was fine by him. He didn’t give a shit. The brief relief that rose up to temporarily replace that irritation was tied to his paycheck and nothing more.

In any case, the irritation quickly returned as Teddy got closer. Emilio wasn’t sure what they were wearing — was that the standard outfit for someone making a trip out on a boat? It was gaudy and bright and colorful, which certainly wasn’t ideal for any kind of stealth work, but Emilio didn’t think stealth was possible on a boat, anyway. There was no way their target wouldn’t see or hear them coming, but there wasn’t really anywhere they’d be able to run, either. There were, evidently, both pros and cons to working at sea. Emilio hoped he’d never have to do it again.

“You’re late,” Emilio said flatly, and there was the strangest urge to ask why, coupled with an odd desire to ask about the otter (had they found someone to watch it? Stuck it with Chuck after all, or gone in a different direction?), but Emilio pushed both to the side. Sometimes, with Teddy, it felt like he was participating in some unknowable performance, like every move he made was being analyzed in a way he didn’t understand. If he asked them where they’d been, they’d be smug about it. If he didn’t, they’d know he wanted to. Paranoia insisted that they could tell there was something under the surface here, that they were going to use it against him, somehow. He couldn’t figure out why he cared about it so much. Who gave a shit if they figured out he wanted to ask about their damn otter? Why did it matter if they knew he was curious as to where they’d been? It was stupid, and stupider still that he couldn’t shake it.

Pushing himself forward, he exhaled steadily through his nose and bit back a wince. His ribs were still tender from the beating those damn gangsters had delivered, mostly healed but not entirely all right. They might have fixed themselves sooner if he’d allowed himself much rest between then and now, but after that harrowing nightmare that had seen him staring at his wall for hours after, he’d been sleeping less and less. So far, the nightmares he’d had in the brief bouts of sleep since had been the standard fare, but it was hard to accept the risk that something like that might happen again. It wasn’t quite worth it.

Besides, this would be an easy case. Find the fisherman, find out why he’d done what he’d done, and let Teddy decide what they wanted to do about it. There was little chance it would snowball into something as complex as what had happened with Alan’s case. That, Emilio thought, seemed like a ‘one time deal’ sort of shitshow.

“Just lead the way to the damn boat. I’ve got a good idea who we’re looking for and where to start. I can catch you up when we’re on the water.” No need to stretch this out any more than he had to. The sooner he was finished with this case, the better.

—

“Barely.” The demon rolled their eyes, going with the typical attitude then? Teddy wasn’t sure why but they had expected at least a little more of a customer service face because they were paying him now, guess that didn’t change things. Money wasn’t what made Mr. Cortez tick. A fact Teds kind of knew already. This was more of a confirmation than the very start of a hypothesis. A heavy silence followed, dropping between them like an atom bomb. It might have been mere seconds, but to the demon it felt like forever.

Until the man moved, and they caught the wince, however small and held back it was. The writhing knot in their stomach seemed to sink further. Seemed to grow and furrow Teddy’s brow, completely against their will. Nerves, they justified, after all if Emilio was hurt, he might not be able to do this job right. A simple strain on their nerves, all it could be. Right? Lord knows how good the man was at getting on Ted’s nerves. There wasn’t an explanation in the world that would make Teddy actually believe they held any amount of concern for the well being of the detective. Unless it was on behalf of the job.

“Are you–” It started to leak out. The way Teddy would empathize with anyone else. Feeling somehow extra wrong to extend the same kindness to Emilio. Like they were supposed to be detached here. Aloof. Sarcastic and sardonic instead of gentle and kind. Supposed to play a part that the detective had already cast him in. Play it until the end of the line. Whatever that might mean. “Sure you’re up for this one big guy?” A more casual tone took on the rest of the question. Feigning the concern away from the man, and making it about the job. Because that made more sense.

Emilio was awful to be around. Well, he was fun to mess with, but otherwise awful. They kept telling themself it, rationalizing each newer stranger emotion as they surfaced. Maybe it was a bit of jealousy. Yeah? The great green snake rearing its ugly head. That something out there got to get some jabs in where Teddy hadn’t. If anyone was going to hurt Emilio, it should have been Ted. Payback or something, right? For the roof. For the alley. For the fact that the man was insufferable, except to make him suffer. Jealousy was understandable. The fact that it was something the demon so rarely felt made it all the more attractive as a scapegoat. They weren’t sure, because they didn’t have that much experience with it. Obviously.

“Right, well. Let's get going.” Stealth might normally not be much of an option on the high seas, but the cover of night, the slight fog, and the healthy number of enchantments on the Leviathan’s boat certainly helped. Even so, the drive out of the docks and into open water was uncharacteristically quiet. Eerily so even. Teddy knew it was at least partially the effect of the sound dampening rituals they had done earlier. Circling the vessel in runes and glyphs, that would keep anything off the boat from hearing them coming. They could talk and remain unheard. A few more spells and it’d be hard to notice them at all until they were within boarding distance. Not that Teddy had to share that information unless Emilio asked.

Teddy promised to be quiet. They were just keeping their word.

—

Emilio returned Teddy’s eye roll with one of his own, choosing not to comment on how ‘barely’ late the other was. Late was late, wasn’t it? It didn’t matter how late you were. Even being seconds too late was more than enough to turn something entirely on its head. Emilio knew that better than anyone. Of course, the stakes here were low. Teddy arriving a few minutes later than the agreed upon time really only hurt them, considering it was their case and their money. Let them be late if they wanted to be late. Emilio would add it to the ever-growing list of extra charges he planned on slapping them with when all this was over. If he was going to have to put up with them, he was going to make sure he was fairly compensated for it.

He felt them looking at him again, felt their eyes on him when he couldn’t quite hide the pain in the movement. And he knew they caught it. If there was one thing he’d picked up about Teddy, it was that they were observant. A little too observant for comfort, sometimes. It made it hard to hide anything, made him feel exposed and raw. Worse still, they never seemed to do anything with whatever information they gleaned from him. They must have been saving it for something, must have been gathering it with the intention of using it against him somehow, but he couldn’t figure out how. He couldn’t figure out why they hadn’t done it yet.

They spoke, and his jaw tightened just a little at the question. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here.” It was untrue, and he hated the fact that Teddy knew that, hated that they’d seen him go after that damn baukbear when he could barely stand, hated that they already knew him as well as they did when he didn’t want them to know him at all. He hated the question, too, the idea that they hadn’t even made it out on the water yet and his capabilities were already being questioned. Like he was a damn kid again, the least impressive of his mother’s children and made to remember that fact every day. Maybe he wasn’t at a hundred percent, but he could do this. He could.

For some unfathomable reason, he felt the need to insist upon it further. And that was stupid, because it wasn’t as if Teddy’s opinion meant anything. They were a fucking asshole. If they wanted to question him, they could question him. If they wanted to change their mind and take their case to some other detective, it would just mean Emilio had to deal with them less. He’d lose out on the paycheck and have some wasted time under his belt, of course; that was the only reason the option seemed like a bad one. If it weren’t for that, he’d tell Teddy to fuck off. It was only the resources he’d sunk into this stupid case that made the thought of doing so now make his palms itch and his chest ache.

“Sooner the better,” Emilio agreed, climbing onto the boat. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d been on a boat in his life, and he’d hated it on each and every occasion. This was no different. The way the ocean’s waves made the ground beneath his feet feel unsteady, the way the shore was getting farther and farther away and the knowledge that he could no longer make it there unassisted was sitting heavy in his mind, the way Teddy seemed so utterly comfortable on the water, as if they were born for it… It all swirled together in Emilio’s chest, making his heart beat faster than it should have.

Somehow, the silence made it worse. He used to prefer the quiet, but being left alone with his thoughts seemed more a punishment than a reward these days. And still, he couldn’t bring himself to break it. It felt like a contest, like he was in some imaginary competition with Teddy that only he was aware of. They seemed content. Calm. And Emilio hated the fact that he was anything but.

—

Every so often the boat would rock just so, or there would be an interesting sound, a neat thing to look at. And every single time Teddy’s instinct to chime in and give a fun little anecdote had to be physically squashed down with a shake of the head or a bite of the tongue. This wasn’t a field trip. Emilio didn’t want to know about the shipwreck they just passed over, or how a nest of Osprey appeared on that one buoy every year in summer, even if it wasn’t as high as a usual home for the species. This wasn’t a tour. They weren’t searching for cryptids (paid or otherwise). The detective had made it abundantly clear that he’d expect silence while they completed this task together.

So why was the man so uncomfortable in it? Stewing and biting back grumbles over there on the deck. It should have made Teddy happy. Should have recharged the smile that had faded into an expression of intense focus. The whole damn reason the demon made sure they were doing this together was to mess with him. Okay, most of the reason. Pascal’s Revenge™ was still number one. Number one and climbing the ranks as the returns on the other game appeared to diminish.

A stillness came about the demon, one rarely viewed outside of their small family. In their drive to be competitively petty had they verged too close to cruel? The demon was many things, but it didn’t like to believe that it was unnecessarily sadistic. As the minutes turned to an hour, and Emilio still hadn’t cracked any jokes at their expense, hadn’t pointed something out just to make them feel stupid, hadn’t done anything but stare out over the rail while gripping it like a lifeline… Teddy didn’t know what to do.

Not that they ever really did around Emilio.

That was the problem, wasn’t it? Wherever the demon expected the detective to bend right, he flipped left, up, or down. Infuriating. Exhilarating. And maybe just a bit misjudged. Not that they’d ever (ever, ever, ever, ever, not in their infinite lifespan) admit it out loud. Maybe Oscar the Grouch over there wasn’t… the worst. Teddy certainly had met with (and dispatched) worse. Joy was worse. Obviously. But Joy fit in her box. Emilio was something interesting wrapped up in a shell of something wretched.

Speaking of wretched things, a metallic scent wafted along the winds. Teddy smelled the blood long before the radar ever picked up the other vessel. Too much blood. Not quite human either, mixed with the salt and seawater it was a little hard to pick out what, but that wasn’t the demon’s real area of expertise. Their boat came to a stall, and Ted began another small ritual, strengthening the runes that guarded the ship, guarding them from being noticed before they wanted to be.

The ship itself seemed to almost fade away as the demon circled it, running their hands along the railing, only nodding to the man to get him to move aside once they were right up next to him. When the circle was complete, when the ritual was done, from those on board it appeared as if they had turned the opacity way down, from the outside, it might as well have been a shadow.

“Don’t cross the barrier until you are sure it’s time. Not even a finger over it, okay? I have a feeling it’s about to get real bad. Probably worse than expected.” Their voice was low, but with a steady even keel that completely betrayed their usual flighty foolhardy style. No hint of sarcasm, no judgment. Nothing. This was the job. They were going to do it right. And then they could get back to figuring out if this puzzle was still worth unraveling. Maybe from a new angle. Who knew?

Silently Teddy returned to the helm, the boat whirred back to life even quieter than before. They moved in and within ten minutes, a small shape bobbed on the horizon.

—

If Teddy’s chatter was irritating, their silence was unnerving. On dry land, it might have been a welcome thing. Most of the time Emilio had spent (typically unwillingly) in Teddy’s company had consisted of him praying for them to quiet down. But out here? It only served to put him more on edge. His knuckles were white as they gripped the railing, jaw clenched tightly shut to prevent himself from losing this unspoken contest of silence that existed only in his head as he glared out into the sea. Somehow, time passed both slower and more quickly than it ought to; if this much time on the water had him feeling like this, Emilio couldn’t imagine why anyone would choose to live at sea long-term.

Eventually, the air shifted in a way that meant they were getting close to something and, this far out at sea, it could only be another boat. It might not be their guy — Emilio had gotten word that the fisherman who set the traps that Teddy had found their otter in spent a lot of time out here, but it could just as easily be someone else, too. There were plenty of people in Wicked’s Rest who spent time out at sea for various reasons, both nefarious and innocent. It might be difficult to tell which they were happening upon now.

Except… As they got closer, he felt it. That familiar feeling of the hair standing up on the back of his neck, that almost sick twisting in his stomach as they approached the other boat. He might have assumed it was something at the bottom of the sea, because it wasn’t unheard of. But as they drew nearer to the faint shape of a boat out in the fog, the feeling grew stronger and coupled itself with the faint scent of blood in a way that made it impossible to deny. Whatever was on that boat, it was undead.

And it was up to something.

Teddy was doing… something. Emilio wasn’t entirely sure what until they spoke to him, breaking that long stretch of silence with an instruction that revealed that their trek around the boat hadn’t been for a leisurely stroll. They’d done some kind of a ritual, and Emilio was torn between frustration that they hadn’t clued him in on that plan or what the ritual was and relief that they weren’t going to be seen a mile out. Given what he now knew about the boat they were approaching, he found himself begrudgingly leaning towards the latter. Of course, there was no way in hell he’d ever admit to that. Teddy would never let him live such a thing down.

As they drew nearer to the other ship, Emilio weighed his options. Teddy going into this thing near-blind would be bad for both of them, as their lack of preparedness would only make things harder on Emilio if it came to blows. But revealing what he knew about the other boat would mean admitting that he had a way to know it, too, and given everything he knew about Teddy, he knew that they’d be able to make certain inferences about Emilio with that extra sliver of information. Inferences that could be remarkably dangerous, depending on what they decided to do with them. Inferences that could lead to other discoveries, too. After all, anyone who’d spent significant time in Mexico would be able to make certain leaps about a slayer with Emilio’s surname.

In the end, though, something made the option of honesty win out. Emilio might claim it was because he didn’t want Teddy slowing him down with questions if it came to blows, or that he wouldn’t know how to drive the boat back on his own if Teddy got themself killed by a vampire out at sea. The truth was something more complicated, something that tangled itself in his gut in a way he didn’t understand. He didn’t want Teddy going into this without all the information. He didn’t want them to get hurt because he’d held back. He didn’t want that kind of weight on his shoulders again.

“Jones,” he said gruffly, the first word he’d spoken since their departure from shore. He didn’t look at Teddy, kept his eyes locked on the boat ahead of them as if that might make what he was about to do any less dangerous than it had the potential to be. “They’re undead. Whoever’s on that ship. So… We’re probably not going to be able to do this with knives or bullets.” For certain species it might be possible — different kinds of undead had different rules, after all — but the best bet was to assume it was something more durable. Better to do a little overkill than to get killed. “I want to take the lead.”

—

“Cortez–” They replied. A bit too hastily, with a bit too much vitriol. Especially considering the detective hadn’t followed it up with an insult to Teddy’s driving or some question about why they had stopped so far out like they’d expected. “I know.” That part was calmer. Flatter. Almost, almost a thank you. After all, Emilio’s statement? It was a warning. Something meant to protect the listener. A confirmation of something the demon had begun to suspect. While they couldn’t sense undead in the way that Emilio apparently could, few things in this world liked blood quite as much as a vampire. Fewer things that were smart enough to pilot a rig out to the middle of the bay just to make a literal bloodbath that could be scented from miles away. Whatever it was, it was gorging itself on something. Making a feast out of it. The closer their ship got to the scene, the worse the stench was.

No knives or bullets. Okay. Teddy nodded, and nudged a decently sized chest with their foot. “Pick your poison then.” While the demon hadn’t been expecting the midnight trapper to be anything more than a dumb human, they were prepared for anything. Like Satan’s number one boy scout. Ready for any kind of murder that would bring someone some manner of justice. This was bigger than just an otter now. They could see that.

The box was filled to the brim with just about any implement of death you could imagine. From a foldable scythe to several wooden stakes. The only thing it lacked was any real holy or blessed items. For a pretty obvious reason. There were some decoys, mostly empty bottles of regular-ass seawater that were dressed up to look like something to fight off the undead or damned with. Teddy couldn’t let themself ignore a possible giveaway if it meant protecting themself and their father.

Though if Emilio was as good a detective as they had regrettably come to realize he was (the boat they were after was more or less exactly where the man had predicted, even without the rich scent of spilled blood they’d have found it all the same), he’d probably see right through that little ruse. Teddy wasn’t really ready to come to terms with what that might actually mean so they locked it away. Unconsciously filtering out what wasn’t necessary for the here and now. Anything that wouldn’t help dust whatever evil motherfucker was over on that other boat.

“Lead on.” No argument. No more fire. At least not toward Emilio. Everything that burned within them was now directed at their target. The cause of the red tinted wake that rippled gently behind their vessel. Quietly, their boat caught up. Teddy pulled alongside right where Emilio had directed. Came to a rest, and the creature on board didn’t seem any wiser about it. Good. Seconds later, Teddy was right behind the hunter. Their own stakes in hand. Ready to go, ready to follow the leader.

—

They knew already. Normally, that might have filled Emilio with frustration, annoyance that he’d given Teddy information that he hadn’t needed to give them, that he’d offered some vague part of an answer for nothing. But the annoyance didn’t come this time. Maybe it was because Teddy didn’t immediately jump on the words, or because their tone wasn’t harsh or taunting when they responded. It was easier not to let the irritation bubble over when they were being halfway decent, even if those moments were rare. What made less sense was the odd sense of faint relief that filled his chest in place of that irritation. Teddy already knew, and that was a good thing. That meant less possibility of complication, less chance that this would end poorly. They could take care of this bump in the road, and then they could go back to trading verbal bars on dry land. After Teddy paid him, of course. The getting paid was important, too.

Glancing down at the chest, Emilio furrowed his brow. He eyed Teddy suspiciously for a moment before relenting, leaning down to shift through the contents. Knives, swords, blades, a damn scythe. Emilio couldn’t help but take note of all of it. That knife looked silver. That sword was iron. There were stakes made of different types of wood. Salt bags. He picked up a vial, inspecting the contents. He’d expected holy water, of course, but… No, this wasn’t right. No rosaries, either.

Emilio pushed his tongue up against the sharpness of his canines to keep himself from making the observation aloud, choosing instead to place the vial back in the chest and pick up a few things that might actually come in handy against something undead instead. Stakes, even though his pockets were heavy with his own — Teddy had probably gathered what he was, at this point, but there was no reason to confirm it for them. A knife, even though it would likely be useless. The handle was made out of something heavy and white, and maybe he just liked the weight of it in his hand. Almost as an afterthought, he took that scythe, too. It was bigger than what he might usually carry, clunkier, but it was hard to resist the urge to take it. He justified it silently to himself with the reminder that whatever was on that boat might be something they needed to behead, and that was always such a damn ordeal with a small blade. The scythe would make it simpler.

Of course, the growing stench of blood in the air was making it look more and more likely that their trapper was something that could be easily dispatched with one of the stakes Emilio had grabbed, but he gripped the scythe all the same. Maybe he could enjoy something just to enjoy it, for a moment. Maybe not everything had to be functional.

He’d expected Teddy to argue, to insist that they lead even though he was the one with the experience, the one with the know-how, the one who was being paid. Instead, they offered no resistance in a way that felt strange. Emilio was almost suspicious, narrowing his eyes briefly, but… If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that they cared about this job. The otter, the trapper, the chance to keep it from happening again, it mattered to them. Maybe it mattered enough that they wouldn’t compromise it for a petty vendetta. Clicking his tongue, Emilio nodded. Time to do the real work.

Whatever ritual Teddy had done to disguise their boat seemed to have worked well enough. The captain of the other ship didn’t seem to realize they were coming, didn’t meet them in the water. Emilio couldn’t hear them over the sounds of the ocean, but he was willing to bet they were still slurping away on whatever it was they’d caught out here. Emilio wasted no time in moving from their boat to the other, landing silently in spite of the vibrations of pain the small jump sent up his bad leg and still injured ribs. If there was one thing he knew how to do, it was work around pain. It was one of the first lessons his mother taught him, one of the most important things for a hunter to know. You had to keep fighting, even when you knew you weren’t going to win. Maybe even especially then.

Silently, he made his way through the ship. He could feel Teddy behind him, just as uncharacteristically quiet as they’d been for the entire trip. They were good at being sneaky when they wanted to be, evidently. Later, that knowledge would probably unsettle him. Right now, with this temporary alliance, it was probably a good thing. Emilio followed that feeling in his gut until the sounds of movement were louder than the sounds of the sea, a sickening slurp and a quiet drip making it clear that they were close. He held up a hand to stop Teddy behind him and ducked against a wall, peering through the darkened doorway.

It was an older vampire. He could tell just by looking at them. Not quite an elder, but they had a certain way about them. An arrogance to their posture that he’d only seen in immortals well into their hundreds, ones who’d been around long enough to feel invincible but know that they weren’t. Emilio looked them over carefully for a moment before letting his eyes slip down to what they held. A seal — no. No, not quite. A selkie, he realized. A young one. Already too far gone to save, if it wasn’t dead yet. Something twinged in his chest, but he pushed it aside. No use worrying over what they’d been too late to do. Better to focus on what they could still accomplish instead. If heroism was out of the question, at least there was vengeance. Vengeance had always suited Emilio just fine.

He looked to Teddy, squinting at them in the darkness despite the fact that he could see perfectly fine. Stay here, he mouthed, hoping the teal eyes he’d caught sight of in their houseboat when their glasses had slipped down their nose were capable of seeing in the dark well enough to make out what he was saying. He couldn’t communicate the whole plan to them in silence; he just had to hope they’d catch on, somehow. Emilio would distract so Teddy could move in undetected. The vampire had just gorged itself. It was going to offer up a challenge, and attacking it head on was going to get one or both of them killed.

Better to control the situation. With another brief glance to Teddy and a sharp look, Emilio ducked out from behind the wall and stepped into the room where the vampire was feasting. “I gotta know,” he said gruffly, “did you know the traps were getting more than just selkies? You leave the rest there on purpose?” He didn’t think it mattered, one way or another. But Teddy might. And Teddy was the one writing the paycheck here.

—

It was pretty surprising how well they worked together when either of them shut up long enough for the pair to get something done. Less surprising that Emilio was that good at both of his jobs. One of the very few things that Teddy was absolutely sure of, was the fact that Mr. Emilio Cortez was dedicated to his work. Something that was great right now, but after… well that’d take a lot more parsing. As these things so often did every time they had one of these little interactions.

The revelation of ‘slayer’ came with a heavier tone than most of the others though.

Demons didn’t have their own hunters. Not exactly. Closest you could really get was an exorcist with a specialty in demonology. Even then, they were more of the cerebral type than the stabby stabby sort. Slayers came close though. They had all the tools, usually had quite a bit of the knowhow, and definitely carried the skills and blessed items that burned through demonic skin like acid covered blades through soft butter. It put Teddy on edge. More than the blood splattered boat, more than the actual monster they were about to kill. More than anything so far. Stare down a hellhound and call it Carolina? Fine. Know the man who hates you has more than enough reason and ability to take you down? Less so.

But he hadn’t. Not yet. Had plenty of opportunities. Slayers healed faster than demons, and while that night after the alleyway was not particularly great for either of them, Emilio had managed to get up and get gone long before Teddy had ever stirred from the dingy. Hell, from the first time they met the detective had known where Teddy lived. If he’d figured it out, figured out what Teddy was, why hadn’t he killed them already? Why hadn’t he killed the creatures in the alleyway? Why did he let all of the others go from their cages? None of the ones Teddy had found and corralled to safety had been injured in any way.

Hunters didn’t do that. Hunters didn’t show that kind of mercy. Hunters didn’t ask questions before going in for the kill. The demon’s mind flicked back to Venice. To the hunters dressed like nuns, to the table and the scar they left. That had been their first real run-in with any honest to goodness hunters. It certainly wasn’t their last. And yet, here was Mr. Cortez. Actually following through with the terms Teddy had set for the job. Because they had asked him to. The demon was ready to call the literal trail of blood evidence enough, but he went and asked anyway. Gave up a potential perfect ambush. Was it just to gloat? Maybe, or maybe not.

Something clicked then. A realization of how wrong first, second, and third impressions had been. Not that it really mattered. Teddy hadn’t exactly put their best face forward for the detective and surely the man’s opinion on them only tanked from there. It was the kind of thing that made them swallow hard, bite on the inside of their cheek, and sink into themself a little. Not so much that they couldn’t read ahead, figure out the slayer’s plan and act accordingly.

The vampire began to monologue, because of course it did, something questioning how the slayer found them and how it didn’t really matter because he wasn’t going to be leaving this boat and blah blah self important blah. Crucially, it admitted it had seen the animal in the trap. And that it didn’t care. That was enough to bring a big old grin back to the demon’s face. A spark enough to drive them on with a sudden manic glee. This was the good part, after all.

As Emilio kept all eyes on him, Teddy slipped through a window unnoticed. Crept up behind the beast. Two arms shot out of the darkness. Worming in between and around the vampire’s torso. Quickly wrenching and snapping the creature’s limbs, leaving them dangling on either side of its chest. Sure, it could regenerate them fast, but Ted knew the hunter would be faster. They swept a leg to the side. In an almost dance-like maneuver they spun the surprised blood-vulture around and down until its back hit the table that had been laid out before it. Hitting it hard enough that the old wood split and drew a wheezy whine from the vampire’s throat. Stifled a split second later by Teddy’s forearm clamping down and holding the creature there.

A big old open window for the slayer to do the fun part.

—

The monologue was entirely expected, but irritating all the same. Emilio had always hated the self-important type of vampires, the ones who talked just to enjoy the sound of their own voice and held their audience captive as a result. He preferred action to words, anyway. If a vampire was planning on killing him, he’d always prefer they just do it. Talking about it for ten minutes first sucked all the fun out of the equation.

If he was being honest, Emilio zoned out a little during the speech. It was all shit he’d heard before, anyway. Death threats might have been unsettling when he was a kid, but these days? They were so familiar that there was a strange sense of comfort to it. He could let it fall to the back like background noise, focus instead on what Teddy was doing. With the vampire’s full attention on the detective, his unofficial, one-time-only ‘partner’ was free to move around so long as they didn’t make any noise. And they were good at it. The not making noise. It was surprising, even if the boat trip had acted as a sort of prologue to the revelation.

More surprising, perhaps, was the fact that Teddy had seemingly picked up on Emilio’s plan. He couldn’t make out their pathing without giving away the fact that he wasn’t alone, but they seemed to be doing exactly what he’d intended for them to do, even if no words had been exchanged. Making their way behind the vampire to attack without being seen, letting Emilio distract while they leapt into action.

Now that the confession Teddy had wanted was out in the open, there was no reason to draw things out; Teddy might want to take things slow, but Emilio figured it’d be better to do this one quickly. With a vampire this experienced, buzzing with the blood from the selkie it had just drained dry, it was best not to give it a chance to fight back. They were lucky it had decided to monologue instead of attacking outright; they weren’t going to get lucky twice.

So the moment Teddy snapped those bones, Emilio darted in. As much as he wanted to use that scythe, a stake was more practical here. He slid it between the monster’s ribs, took a moment to relish in the wide-eyed stare, the look of shock. Little made it through the fog in his head these days, the TV static that fuzzed up most of his thoughts and made the world feel farther away than it ought to, but moments like this always came close. When he drove that stake home, when he saw the look of surprise etched into the face of something that died for thinking that Emilio would be easy to kill… It was enough to spark something. Not joy, not relief, not peace, but something. And something had to be enough.

Of course, the emptiness returned as the vampire crumbled into dust, settling back into his chest as if it had never left at all. Emilio flipped the stake absently in his hand, watching the beast crumble to reveal the shape of Teddy standing behind it. He offered them a curt nod. “Got your answer,” he told them. “And you can keep his boat.” Emilio certainly had no use for it. This whole experience had only served to show him just how little he enjoyed the open sea.

—

For a moment, anyone looking on the scene might assume the pair had been trained together. Working in such succinct synchronicity that the gorged vampire was barely a threat, let alone something that could be considered a fight. Adrenaline pumped through Teddy’s veins, the brilliant thrum of action lifting their spirits high. The creature that had made Pascal an orphan was gone. Good riddance. The deed was done and for a second, the demon smiled at the detective. Flicked their eyebrows up and glanced between him and the pile of dust, as if to make a joke. As if to say ‘is that all?’

Thankfully, they hadn’t said it aloud. Or the next bit would have been really embarrassing. Would have had Emilio grouching and saying it was somehow Teddy’s fault. The second vampire had remained about as unnoticed as the hunting party had. Maybe more so. Teddy wasn’t even sure where it came from, just that the only warning it was there at all was the quick glance on Emilio’s part. His eyes darted behind Teddy, just before the demon heard the first foot fall.

Teddy twisted and bent at the waist to avoid the first slash. Almost putting themself exactly where the captain of the creepy boat had just been. Secret vamp was going old school. Claws and fangs. That or it was caught just as unawares as Admiral Dusty and the natural weapons were the only at hand.

Momentum carried the thing forward and Teddy used it to their advantage. The demon rolled, dodging another blow. One that made woodchips of the table, sent them tumbling to the floor, and knocked the stake clear out of Emilio’s hands. It shrieked and turned to lunge at the slayer, but Teddy was there to catch it.

The vampire seemed to reel as its feet stayed firmly in place, two strong hands holding tight to its ankles as Teddy played the part of anchor. Hopefully long enough that the slayer could do something about the unwelcome party guest.

—

The buzz of adrenaline that came with killing the vampire faded, but something else remained in its place. A familiar feeling, one that Emilio should have pegged before, one he should have made note of. The moment the realization hit him, he felt like a fucking idiot. He should have known, should have been paying more attention, should have recognized it sooner.

The vampire was dust on the floor of the boat, but the old twist in his gut that meant something undead was near hadn’t gone anywhere.

A second after the thought hit, he spotted them. Right behind Teddy, sneaking in for a kill. The slight widening of Emilio’s eyes was the only warning Teddy got but, evidently, it was the only one they needed. They moved fast, dodging the attack quickly. The thing was fast, of course; they always were. It moved in for another, and Emilio darted forward just quick enough to have the stake knocked from his hand. The brief contact seemed to clue the vampire in to his presence, and it turned its attention to him, lunging towards him only to be stopped short.

Teddy wouldn’t be able to hold it for long. There were stakes in Emilio’s jacket pocket, but it would take a moment to retrieve one, a moment more to drive it home. There was a much more accessible weapon slung across his back… and he’d been itching for the chance to use it since the second he saw it in Teddy’s treasure chest of death.

Yanking the scythe off his back, he slung it forward, the blade making contact with the vampire’s throat with a satisfying thunk. Between Emilio’s enhanced strength and the sharpness of the blade, one swing was all it took. The head rolled to the floor, the whole world suspended for a heartbeat before the second vampire followed the first’s example and exploded into a cloud of dust.

This time, Emilio took a moment to feel out the space. There was nothing undead buzzing his senses. Just the now-familiar scent of sulfur that always seemed to cling to Teddy and the fading adrenaline from the unexpected second fight. Tossing the scythe between his hands, he couldn’t keep the faint smile from slipping onto his face. Just as satisfying as he thought it’d be.

“All right,” he said, looking back to Teddy, “now we’re done.” He held the scythe handle-out towards Teddy for them to take. “Let’s get back to land. Fucking sick of the ocean.”

—

A bark of mirth escaped the demon’s mouth. At first just a short breathy thing, that built up and doubled back on itself until Teddy was laughing. Having a hard time lifting themself up from their spot on the ground with the way it shook them. Rumbling out their chest like it was something with its own life. They had pushed it back so much that their joy rebelled. Dark eyes looked up over an expression of pure elation. “You can smile, I fucking knew it.” And it was a good one too. Real. Made these little dimples come out of nowhere and almost made Emilio Cortez look like something with a soul.

Teddy took hold of the scythe, used it like a walking stick to right themselves. Then like a cane to keep their balance. That tumble had popped one of their joints, and they were so dizzy on adrenaline and endorphins that they weren’t even sure which one had gone. Only that a steady stream of signals were coming out of that region. “Yeah, yeah. Back to land. You feel like setting this boat on fire first though?”

Something had shifted within them. Despite the fact that he was never anything but, that smile was all it took for Teddy to see him as human. Someone they’d mess with in a fun way rather than any kind of malice or actual ill will. Emilio could hate them all they want, didn’t mean Teddy had to return the sentiment. At least not all the time.

—

As quickly as it had appeared, that smile faded from Emilio’s face, erased by Teddy’s laughter and replaced with a roll of his eyes. But there wasn’t as much heat to the irritation as there had been before, wasn’t as much seriousness. The smile had been more genuine than the annoyance that replaced it. And that would change when they got back to shore, of course. When Teddy reminded him of just how annoying they really were, when the weight of the world rested itself upon Emilio’s shoulders again, when he wasn’t riding the high of decapitating a vampire with a scythe. In the real world, Emilio would hate himself for letting Teddy see something he wasn’t sure he wanted to share.

But he wasn’t in the real world just yet.

He took a step back as Teddy got to their feet, not reaching out to help them but keeping an eye on them in a way that implied he might step in if they fell. Luckily, it didn’t seem he’d have to decide whether or not that might would evolve into anything more. That was better for the both of them, he was sure. With his bad knee, Emilio could barely keep himself on his feet. He couldn’t be made responsible for doing the same for anyone else anymore.

Their question almost brought that smile back to his face, but he smothered it at the last moment. “Yeah,” he said with a nod, “I really fucking do.” Burning the boat would do nothing for the selkie drained of blood in the floor, or for the mother of the otter that was safe back wherever Teddy had left it. It was just as empty a gesture as every vampire Emilio dusted with his daughter’s name beating in his heart.

But Christ, it’d feel good, anyway.

“I’ve got a lighter. They’ve probably got gas on board someplace. Let’s get to fucking work.”

#wickedswriting #trapped together #mortemoppetere #eldritchaccident

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