Ficlet: Desert Tea
Oct. 31st, 2008 10:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amediaStory Title: Desert Tea
Author: Amedia
Fandom: Rat Patrol
Rating: G
Characters/Ship: Hitch and the other Rats. Gen.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Mirisch-Rich and United Artists. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: Hitch is in a bad way. Moffitt has an idea.
Word Count: 824
Author's Note: Response to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rh_andi's drabble request at http://amedia.livejournal.com/153143.html?thread=801079#t801079 - she asked for Rat Patrol, and I know she loves Hitch.
Thanks to TODS for helping me with a story idea! (Hitch's dream was his idea; I built on it!)
This story may be set after any episode in which Hitch is wounded and isn't treated during the course of the episode; since he is the Rat Patrol's designated pincushion, that narrows it down to about half-a-dozen. (I'm thinking maybe "Pipeline to Disaster" – isn't that the one where no one notices that Hitch has been shot until he collapses and falls out of the jeep?)
There had been a delay in returning to base. Hitch, who had been wounded during their most recent mission, was lying on his bedroll while the others pitched camp.
Moffitt took Troy aside out of Hitch's earshot. "I don't like the look of him, Troy," Moffitt said urgently.
"You said yourself the wound wasn't serious," Troy said.
Moffitt nodded. "It wouldn't be, if he could get prompt medical attention. He wasn't hit in a vital area, but he's in a lot of pain, and that can send a man downhill quicker than—well, quicker than you'd think."
Troy turned to stare back at the camp in the twilight, at Tully's silhouette lifting supplies out of the jeep, at the low lumpy shadow that was Hitch, resting at the foot of a date-palm tree. "And we're out of morphine."
Moffitt nodded assent. "Troy, I have an idea … something that might help Hitch. I just need you to play along."
"If it would help Hitch, I'd sing and dance like a USO showgirl," promised Troy.
"Please, Troy," Moffitt said, quirking a smile."We don't want to make him worse."
******
Moffitt made a show of pawing through his rucksack, emerging at last with a tin of tea and several tiny cloth packets. "Tully," he said, "I need the smallest possible fire you can manage. Just enough to boil of cup of water without the Jerries spotting us."
"Can do, Sarge," said Tully, and went to get supplies.
Moffitt's unusual request got even Hitch's flagging attention.. "You're … having tea now?" Hitch asked, incredulous.
"No," Moffitt said briskly. "You are." He looked up at Troy. "Troy has given me permission, Hitch, to use these medicinal herbs that I got from the Arabs recently."
"Herbs?" Hitch queried weakly.
Moffitt nodded. "Powerful ones. The Arabs have approached the Army in the past and offered to supply our hospitals with these—" he turned one of the packets over in his hand—"but the Army turned them down. They're too strong. It would take too long to retrain our people to use them correctly." He carefully selected three packets and held them up. "The right amounts of these, in the right proportion, will send you into a painless sleep for the next twelve hours. If you got the wrong amounts … well, let's just say the Army probably made the right decision."
"Can you mix them just right, Moffitt?" put in Troy, sensing that it was his time to play along, and injecting the tiniest bit of doubt into his voice.
"Absolutely, old chap," said Moffitt. "I spent a whole summer as apprentice to an old healer while my father was directing a dig a few hundred miles from here. Trust me, I know exactly how to handle these. Ah, Tully, thank you, that's perfect." He took the cup of boiling water, put some tea into it, and then measured tiny portions of the herbs with exaggerated care. "How much do you weigh, Hitch?"
"About one-sixty," Hitch said, puzzled.
Moffitt nodded and added another infinitesimal pinch from one of the packets. "Excellent." He held the cup in both hands, moving it gently so that the liquid swirled in one direction, then the other. "Let this cool for a few minutes, and then drink all of it. Every drop. You can leave the tea leaves at the bottom, but be sure you get all the liquid."
"Okay, Sarge," said Hitch. "You're the boss."
******
Hitch was still fast asleep the next morning when they broke camp. Tully and Moffitt lifted him carefully into his jeep and arranged his hat to shade his face so that the sun would not awaken him. He finally stirred as they were approaching base.
"Mmmm," he said as the jeep came to a halt in front of the hospital. "I had the best dream."
"Really?" Troy asked. Moffitt trotted into the hospital to fetch a medic.
Hitch nodded. "I was in this fabulous restaurant in Cairo with a beautiful girl. We had lamb tagine for dinner and spiced dates for dessert."
"Maybe they'll have food like that in the hospital here," said Tully.
"Don't make me laugh, Tully, I'll hurt myself!" said Hitch with a grin. Troy looked at him closely, and was pleased by what he saw; Hitch looked a hundred percent better since getting a good night's sleep.
The medic came out with Moffitt and looked Hitch over. "Could be worse," he said briefly and went back inside to order a stretcher.
As two orderlies carried Hitch carefully away, Troy turned to Moffitt. "What was in those packets?" he demanded. "That could be worth a fortune."
"Cumin, coriander, and ras el-hanout," Moffitt answered with a smile. "Cooking spices."
"Was it something in the tea?" Troy asked.
"Ordinary Darjeeling," said Moffitt. "The secret ingredient, Troy, was the power of suggestion."
Troy shook his head. "You know, Moffitt," he said, "I'm glad you're on our side."
Author: Amedia
Fandom: Rat Patrol
Rating: G
Characters/Ship: Hitch and the other Rats. Gen.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Mirisch-Rich and United Artists. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: Hitch is in a bad way. Moffitt has an idea.
Word Count: 824
Author's Note: Response to
rh_andi's drabble request at http://amedia.livejournal.com/153143.html?thread=801079#t801079 - she asked for Rat Patrol, and I know she loves Hitch.Thanks to TODS for helping me with a story idea! (Hitch's dream was his idea; I built on it!)
This story may be set after any episode in which Hitch is wounded and isn't treated during the course of the episode; since he is the Rat Patrol's designated pincushion, that narrows it down to about half-a-dozen. (I'm thinking maybe "Pipeline to Disaster" – isn't that the one where no one notices that Hitch has been shot until he collapses and falls out of the jeep?)
There had been a delay in returning to base. Hitch, who had been wounded during their most recent mission, was lying on his bedroll while the others pitched camp.
Moffitt took Troy aside out of Hitch's earshot. "I don't like the look of him, Troy," Moffitt said urgently.
"You said yourself the wound wasn't serious," Troy said.
Moffitt nodded. "It wouldn't be, if he could get prompt medical attention. He wasn't hit in a vital area, but he's in a lot of pain, and that can send a man downhill quicker than—well, quicker than you'd think."
Troy turned to stare back at the camp in the twilight, at Tully's silhouette lifting supplies out of the jeep, at the low lumpy shadow that was Hitch, resting at the foot of a date-palm tree. "And we're out of morphine."
Moffitt nodded assent. "Troy, I have an idea … something that might help Hitch. I just need you to play along."
"If it would help Hitch, I'd sing and dance like a USO showgirl," promised Troy.
"Please, Troy," Moffitt said, quirking a smile."We don't want to make him worse."
******
Moffitt made a show of pawing through his rucksack, emerging at last with a tin of tea and several tiny cloth packets. "Tully," he said, "I need the smallest possible fire you can manage. Just enough to boil of cup of water without the Jerries spotting us."
"Can do, Sarge," said Tully, and went to get supplies.
Moffitt's unusual request got even Hitch's flagging attention.. "You're … having tea now?" Hitch asked, incredulous.
"No," Moffitt said briskly. "You are." He looked up at Troy. "Troy has given me permission, Hitch, to use these medicinal herbs that I got from the Arabs recently."
"Herbs?" Hitch queried weakly.
Moffitt nodded. "Powerful ones. The Arabs have approached the Army in the past and offered to supply our hospitals with these—" he turned one of the packets over in his hand—"but the Army turned them down. They're too strong. It would take too long to retrain our people to use them correctly." He carefully selected three packets and held them up. "The right amounts of these, in the right proportion, will send you into a painless sleep for the next twelve hours. If you got the wrong amounts … well, let's just say the Army probably made the right decision."
"Can you mix them just right, Moffitt?" put in Troy, sensing that it was his time to play along, and injecting the tiniest bit of doubt into his voice.
"Absolutely, old chap," said Moffitt. "I spent a whole summer as apprentice to an old healer while my father was directing a dig a few hundred miles from here. Trust me, I know exactly how to handle these. Ah, Tully, thank you, that's perfect." He took the cup of boiling water, put some tea into it, and then measured tiny portions of the herbs with exaggerated care. "How much do you weigh, Hitch?"
"About one-sixty," Hitch said, puzzled.
Moffitt nodded and added another infinitesimal pinch from one of the packets. "Excellent." He held the cup in both hands, moving it gently so that the liquid swirled in one direction, then the other. "Let this cool for a few minutes, and then drink all of it. Every drop. You can leave the tea leaves at the bottom, but be sure you get all the liquid."
"Okay, Sarge," said Hitch. "You're the boss."
******
Hitch was still fast asleep the next morning when they broke camp. Tully and Moffitt lifted him carefully into his jeep and arranged his hat to shade his face so that the sun would not awaken him. He finally stirred as they were approaching base.
"Mmmm," he said as the jeep came to a halt in front of the hospital. "I had the best dream."
"Really?" Troy asked. Moffitt trotted into the hospital to fetch a medic.
Hitch nodded. "I was in this fabulous restaurant in Cairo with a beautiful girl. We had lamb tagine for dinner and spiced dates for dessert."
"Maybe they'll have food like that in the hospital here," said Tully.
"Don't make me laugh, Tully, I'll hurt myself!" said Hitch with a grin. Troy looked at him closely, and was pleased by what he saw; Hitch looked a hundred percent better since getting a good night's sleep.
The medic came out with Moffitt and looked Hitch over. "Could be worse," he said briefly and went back inside to order a stretcher.
As two orderlies carried Hitch carefully away, Troy turned to Moffitt. "What was in those packets?" he demanded. "That could be worth a fortune."
"Cumin, coriander, and ras el-hanout," Moffitt answered with a smile. "Cooking spices."
"Was it something in the tea?" Troy asked.
"Ordinary Darjeeling," said Moffitt. "The secret ingredient, Troy, was the power of suggestion."
Troy shook his head. "You know, Moffitt," he said, "I'm glad you're on our side."
