francisjohnpatrickmulcahy - Tumblr blog

francisjohnpatrickmulcahy · 15 hours ago

Text

v's really big hawkahy post-war thingy

spoilers for GFA and AfterMASH. and my rambling + Hawkahy about it.

If I was able to write long, slow-burn fics, I would. Since I can't, please enjoy this glimpse into the post-war Hawkahy that has built in my head since 2023. Shout out to @andrandiriel for watching me spill it into Discord this morning.

I need to see how Mulcahy's world was rocked by the events of GFA. His hearing was quickly fading. Of course he was pretending he was okay, he couldn’t admit to himself that the reality, that he was losing his hearing, and his entire livelihood, the priesthood, was slipping out from under him. But behind closed doors, how did he feel about it? His fear, his uncertainty, his upset? I can see him pacing, wringing his hands, his eyes pricking with tears because he can see his footsteps but can't hear them. What is he going to do, he can’t hear confessions like this, he can’t hear Masses, he’s practically useless as a priest now, even more than he was before - and he has no one to turn to, no shoulder to cry on.

He can find no comfort in his peers, having to mask his upset (and his disability) because he knows what would happen if anyone found out he wasn't all still there. He has to be there for the kids he takes care of. He knows he's the one of the only things they have. What would happen to them if he was suddenly gone? He knows that's exactly what would happen if anyone found out he's going deaf. Yanked away from the kids he loves and provides for.

The war ends. He goes home. He's gone from a jovial priest to a miserable, deaf man struggling with his faith.

"Dear Lord... I know there must be a reason for this, but what is it? I answer the call to do Your work, I've devoted my life to it - and now, how am I supposed to do it? What good am I now? What good is a deaf priest? I've prayed for You to help me, and every day I get worse. Are You deaf too?"

Alcoholism runs in his genes, and we've seen him drinking beer a handful of times (not to mention what happened in Alcoholics Unanimous. We were with Leviticus on the 10th, I believe...) It’s logical to assume he would start drowning his sorrows in brandy.

Father Mulcahy has fallen from heaven.

AfterMASH touches on this, but it's so brief, literally under ten minutes. We see Potter get a phone call from Philadelphia and it's Kathy Mulcahy, calling because her brother Francis is absolutely sloshed on his bed and she's reaching out to see if someone can help him. We see that he's wearing a hearing aid as he sings over the phone.

"Oh! Mom! Dad! I hope you're not angry. I know I'm not supposed to steal rides on the back of streetcars. I never played hooky before, either. I think it was the cross that made me do it - the right cross from Sister Stanislaus! She got so mad when the bomb went off and I went deaf. I don't know why they put bombs on streetcars, but that's Korea for you. Hawkeye used to say 'Korea, first cousin to dia-'. I'll bet he could have talked the archbishop into giving me a parish. What good is a deaf priest in the confessional? You miss all the juicy parts. Maybe she hit me because of the drinking. There's some nuns that do it, too - I've seen a few wobbly habits in my time. But that's no excuse." - Mulcahy, as he wakes up from his ear surgery (AfterMASH, 1x01)

And, nine minutes and fourteen seconds after he's seen singing on the phone, Mulcahy is cured of both his alcoholism and his deafness. It is never talked about again except in passing, when he mentions things like "I used to have a pair of red boxer shorts, but... those were from my drinking days", which is. A whole different can of worms? I need to see that, too.

This is one of my biggest complaints about AfterMASH - its sweeping up of Mulcahy's problems into the dumpster all in a ten minute span. William Christopher himself was disappointed in this as well, which I didn't know when I started watching and formulating this opinion in 2023.

This was when MASH had just ended, and with AfterMASH beginning, the idea arose about exploring Mulcahy's personal life. I talked to the writers about this, and they decided, "Well, you know, we don't feel the network is very interested in that, so what we want to do is concentrate on the hospital." Well, I thought that was a provocative idea, because since the hospital was a Veterans Administration Hospital, a lot of fascinating stories could be told about the lives of returning vets. We could have considered the problems veterans experience, and their need for a chaplain and counseling. Also, when we began AfterMASH we intended to have Father Mulcahy battling his own problems with alcohol. I thought maybe we should continue that dramatic undercurrent. But they said, "No we can't do that. We need to have him get over that right away because people might not like him struggling with alcoholism." There was also the fact that Father Mulcahy returned from the war deaf. You may recall the massive explosion that crippled him at the end of the war. I thought that would be great dimension of his character to maintain. Having him working with sign language would clearly develop the fact he understood what disability was like. Well they didn't want to do that either. They wanted to have him get well by some magic cure. So he gets over that too. I really felt that in developing the hospital, what they really ended up doing was ignoring the drama and making it all rather silly. I feel the two guys who were doing most of the writing for AfterMASH were quite talented. Unfortunately, they were restricted, I think, by the vision CBS had for AfterMASH. [source interview here]

I don’t know what Bill had in mind, but I need one last miracle to happen. I need something inside Mulcahy to switch on and I need him to find himself suddenly bundled up in the snow, partially hung over and now almost completely unable to hear without his aids (which have dead batteries), staring down a driveway in Crabapple Cove. He’s left everything behind, carrying only a small bag of clothes and a few trinkets. Something brought him here, he doesn’t know why.

Hawkeye, of course, is doing no better. Both are broken men. But Hawkeye hates to see Francis, who was so happy and kind, reduced to a dejected boozer. (What happened to “jocularity, jocularity”?) Likewise, Francis hates to see Hawkeye, who was so boisterous and full of life, in the state that he’s in, too. So they start doing little things for each other - Francis does the laundry for Hawkeye, who cooks dinner in return, et cetera, and slowly they begin to mutually heal. Eventually they’ve made a pact to cut back on the drinking, they’re learning sign language together. They’re on the mend.

Somewhere along the line, probably after several months, Francis realizes that he might have feelings for Hawkeye. He fights himself over it (period-accurate homophobia and semi-Catholic guilt, you know), but like before, something within him snaps.

I admit it... I think I’m in love with Hawkeye.

Francis decides to slowly test the waters, seeing if Hawkeye would be receptive.

Hawkeye is Hawkeye, and who would he be if he wasn’t. I get the feeling he starts to harbor affection toward any roommate he gets after knowing them for a while, regardless of their gender - see also, Carlye, Trapper, and BJ. “He has this ability to turn his male roommates gay and his female roommates into his girlfriend.” And, let’s be real - how could he resist sweet lil Francis Mulcahy, especially if he’s doing everything in his power to make Hawkeye happy.

AND Francis is hot. What’s not to like.

Hawkeye is vaguely aware of Francis’s envelope-pushing, and is more than receptive to it - even possibly returning the affection a little, which in turn just fuels Francis even more.

Hawkeye came in from outside with the morning’s newspaper. The aroma of something sweet was drifting through the air. He found Francis in the kitchen, pulling a tray of cookies from the oven. He was wearing a red sweater that Hawkeye had knitted in February with a white collared shirt beneath, and a simple pair of gray pants. Something about the scene struck him. It was domestic and cozy, penetrating the depths of Hawkeye’s psyche. A strange warm feeling bunched up in his heart as he watched the former chaplain scoop the cookies from the baking tray to a plate with a spatula. Several months ago (a year, maybe? Hawkeye couldn’t remember), the man in front of him was a crying mess, unable to cope with the loss of his hearing and his faith in one blow. Now his cheeks were rosy and his eyes were bright as he smiled down at the fruits of his labor - er, cookies of his labor. He was picking up gardening again, and reading, and now baking as well. Hawkeye felt a twinge of pride - not for himself, but for how far Francis had come. “Oh, there you are, Hawkeye.” Hawkeye sat at the table with his paper. Francis plopped a cookie onto a napkin and all but forced it into his hand. “Try this - I used a secret ingredient.” He took a big bite and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “Extra vanilla extract.” Francis shook his head. Another bite and careful chewing. “Extra brown sugar?” “Close!” Francis beamed. “It’s molasses.” Hawkeye picked up the newspaper after finishing his cookie. “You’ve been so affectionate lately, Francis - even more so than usual. You bought me that new shirt, you left me that note in my lunch, and now you’re making me cookies. Has something happened? Are you trying to butter me up?” Francis’s lips twitched. “Of course not. I just want to make sure you’re happy.” Hawkeye looked over the front page of the paper in his hands, pointedly not looking up at Mulcahy. “Gee, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a crush on me.” A flush blossomed across Francis’s face, and his eyebrows rose. He started wringing his hands. “I... wouldn’t know anything about that.” Suddenly the other side of the kitchen was incredibly interesting and he scuttled back to the oven. Hawkeye smirked, he knew that telltale avoidance anywhere. It was as obvious as if he’d just said it out loud.

For the record, I did not start this post with the intention of writing half of the fic I said I can’t write into it. Gradually the lines between platonic and romantic would blur between them and they get their happily ever after idk

It's been almost six hours since I opened this tab and I don’t even know how to end this post. um. idk, gay