Dear Dad,

This is definitely a first, not writing you in more than a month. A lot has happened, however.

Firstly, I'm sad to report that Jin Uzuki (the bartender) along with a few other people I didn't know died not long ago. I was never told how it happened, but it's had quite an impact on everyone here. Jean's only now getting over it.

Secondly, Radar seems to have disappeared just as quickly as he appeared, just like his true 4077th fashion. Anyway, that was a while ago, so I'm pretty much over it. I hope he's gone back home. Means I have a chance.

Thirdly, it's possible that Jean and I are an item now. I say 'possible' because neither of us have said anything about it, but it would be the first guess of anyone else. PDA's, pseudo-dates... I'd say so. Had a bit of a close call with her, though; Jimmy told me that our lovely miss(us?) Grey was married in her reality - some kind of film -, and... well. I didn't know what I was going to do until she set me straight and told me she wasn't. I didn't know it was possible to go from depressed to ecstatic in under 3.0 seconds. ...they should put me on the market.

I haven't been to the bar since Jin died, but I've heard stories about the replacement bartender. Nowhere near as nice as Uzuki... and that's about all I know. I haven't really been around much.

Speaking of being around much, I should go remedy that. I'd write more, but I promise you I won't wait a month again. Sorry, Dad.

Your loving son and space cadet,
Hawkeye

Alright kids, ( I want answers. )

Uh?

And also, ( who is this man and why does he look like me, only old enough to be my father? )

This Google thing is providing me way too much entertainment, not to mention confusion.

Hm, yeah, other than that obvious confusion on my part, things have been running smoothly. No explosions, no death threats, and I had an interesting medical conference with Dr. Grey that based around tonsils and the nature of the human mouth. Heh.

I'll go back to reading that book now. I want to see if it was Frank or Trapper who did it. My money's on Trapper, that scoundrel. Never could trust him with a scalpel.

Dear Dad,

It's raining here, probably for the first time since I showed up. It's nice, kind of reminds me of when I was a teenager and used to take walks in the rain just to think. Nothing like some natural water to get the thoughts flowing. Too bad the rain here's probably not natural.

You'll never guess who showed up here the other day, Dad. I'd give you a five-foot-nothing, glasses-wearing, teddy bear toting, mind-reading hint, but it would probably end up giving it away. I walked into the bar earlier this week and there he was, sitting by himself at one of the tables. Apparently there are a few stories going around the Mash about where I went. BJ thinks I up and left, Frank thinks I was kidnapped by commies and Klinger's jealous about my 'discharge'. I'm sure he wouldn't be jealous if he found out what really happened; if he was mad about not getting out of the army, imagine being here where he couldn't get out period.

Things have been pretty tense around here. There's a guy lurking that everyone wants to kill - I don't even know if they have killed him yet - but it's causing a lot of people to be pretty on edge. It's hard to get any conversation in edgewise around here.

Anyway, I'll leave you for now. Time for lunch.

Love,
Hawkeye

After two days, bar visits, numerous people hitting on me, taking advantage of the fact that nobody recognized me and swearing that that damn room wasn't in the same place as before, I'm finally back to my rightful gender. Which is undoubtedly something I never would have seen myself saying. Whoa.

Painfully bored right now. Painfully. I've got the urge to wander, but then that reminds me of what happened last time I did that. With my luck I'll come across a hallway that gives you hallucinations or something. But apparently there's still a lot on this ship that I still haven't discovered and is probably worth discovering.

I think I'll debate that over a glass of liquid spirits.

I knew I let my guard down on this place too early! "Suuure Hawkeye, let's go exploring! Now that you've been here a month you should be absolutely fine! Oh look, a harmless door! Let's see what's inside, shall we?" Woosh, bam, dark. I walk out and I'm of the opposite gender than I was when I went in.

Though I'm not exactly complaining; this is definitely one way to get inside a woman, but... eurgh. The poor things. I swear on my mother's grave that if -- when I get back to normal, I will never ever complain about being a guy ever again. Scout's honour.

....I could go for some booze right now.

Comment here with your characters' names and I'll tell you what Hawkeye and Jimmy and/or Saint Jimmy (which depends on which one it was when they met) think of them. (Provided that they've met.)

Fly, my pretties! FLYYYY!

Dear Dad,

It's about time I brought you some good news from this end of the solar system.

So far nobody's contacted me about my post up on the bulletin board for a job. Normally this wouldn't be described as a good thing, but somehow I've got the feeling that it is. Hey, enjoy my free time while I can, right? I already did enough doctoring in the war to last me a while.

I've met some more half-decent people on my travels around this place. Most diverse hunk of land - er, ship - that I've ever been on, I'll give it that much. Plenty of chances to meet people and forge friendships. And this is where the good good news comes in.

Jean Grey. Great woman, and she's a doctor as well. I met her in the library last week and had a lengthy conversation with her over a drink yesterday. I know how you've always told me not to rush things, dad - something I've never really listened to before, sorry about that - but I'm not sure. Although she reminds me of the lovely Nurse Cuttler who is known to jump in at the deep end of the pool, if you get what I mean, I'll take your advice here. But first I'd like to get to know her better.

Well, Dad, I'd write more, but I'd like to go wander. Hope things are fine on your end.

Love,
Hawkeye

Anybody looking for a good time? I sure as all hell am.

Eeeyurgh. I think it won't be long before I get cabin fever from this place.

Dear Dad,

Once again I'm writing you from the Chocobo Bar, the place having just opened not long ago. The past few days have been peaceful; not too much senseless brutality going on, so that suits me just fine. It's fairly quiet now, Dad, though I've got the feeling that that could change anytime soon. Jin's in the back room, Citrine is padding around and I seem to be the only one here at the moment, not that there's anything wrong with that. A little peace and quiet never hurt anyone. My, aren't those famous last words.

I met another interesting character the other day. I'm not sure what you'd think of him. His name is Riddick and he's got a build like you wouldn't believe. Think King Kong, only less hairy and 6'something. I ended up giving him some lessons in love; get this - he'd never been on a date before. Not like that's surprising, though, considering the impression the man gives, but anyway. Nice guy underneath the weapons of mass destruction and body armor he dons.

Did I tell you yet what I found when I went to the library? Well, turns out that nothing happened to anyone else after dear Henry left us, and the war was only three years long. That was a pretty short eternity, if you ask me. I got a laugh out of my escapade too; in the casualty list was Tuttle, who I'm sure I mentioned before. After all, he was the guy I blamed everything on as a kid.

Ah, here comes the crowd. Jin's back out, just in time to intercept the kid with the bandages over his eyes and who has hair like a palm tree being led by somebody I've yet to speak to. Ah -- oh, there's that lovely lady I had the pleasure of being threatened by I told you about. And has now apologized. Check, please, for one quite confused Hawkeye.

Speaking of Hawkeyes, I still haven't met Col. Mustang's lady friend. One week without running into her once? This is one damn big ship.

Well, dad, all good things must come to an end; Wuya is about ready to spontaneously combust all over someone from her time who just showed up here and I don't want to be around when she does.

...I wish this hunk of metal would zap one of my tent mates up here. Or a nurse. I want someone to spontaneously combust all over, too. ...that came out wrong.

Give mom and sis my love,
Hawkeye

Two weeks already? It's a shame the war didn't go by this fast.

So, so far I've had the pleasure of meeting some relatively sane people, and I've started to get used to this mix-and-match funny farm. Posted for a job yesterday, and my paranoia of getting the crapola beaten out of me has gone down, so I'm no longer feeling all claustrophobic locked up in my room with a martini or five. I'm making progress.

Now if only I could do something about my boredom. I'd write me a perscription, but if they haven't yet found a cure for the common cold, I doubt it'll help much. Oh well; writing the perscription will be a good waste of two minutes.

Tally-ho, off to the bar!