Chapter Text
Drowning
Kimpo isn't especially large, but it's noisy and busy, and everything and everyone that isn't brown is dull shades of green. BJ flinches when a jet flies overhead and wonders if he'll get used to this, or if he even wants to.
Would it be better to be able to take this in stride, or to cling to the anchor of family and home, to let his thoughts and feelings be forever in Mill Valley, to miss his family this sharply every second but at least know he'll be the same person when he goes back there? He's not even sure it's a choice he'll get to make; it's very possible Korea will chew him up and spit him out however it likes, regardless of what he decides.
The corporal who collects him seems nervous, which isn't encouraging. O'Reilly's chatter flows over him, and he hopes none of it is too important, because he's catching maybe one word in three.
"There's Cap'n Pierce now! Cap'n Pierce!" O'Reilly seems relieved to have someone to share the responsibility.
BJ's fellow officer is tall and capable looking, and BJ immediately feels safer, even after the rather cursory handshake he's offered. O'Reilly is so unsure of himself, and BJ's already overwhelmed. He needs a shot in the arm, some kind of reassurance it's possible to cope with this place, and O'Reilly doesn't exactly give off that impression.
Pierce has a quiet confidence about him, like he knows Korea can't throw anything at him he can't deal with, which is pretty much the opposite of how BJ feels. When Pierce moves, BJ follows him automatically, like a duckling who's imprinted on its mother, and they end up doing a little circle around the corporal. BJ feels like a fool when he realises what he just did, but while he's sure of very little right now, he's utterly certain he wants to stay close to this man.
"Things always this calm around here?" BJ's trying to keep his voice steady, but he's not sure how successful he is.
"It's the only war in town," Hawkeye says before turning to soothe O'Reilly. "Radar. Radar. If you can keep your head while all about you are losing theirs, then you probably haven't checked with your answering service."
BJ can't help the grin. The mangled quote is the first thing since he arrived at Travis Air Force Base that's been at all familiar. "Rudyard Kipling," he supplies.
It's two simple words, but Pierce does a genuine double take, and BJ is oddly proud of himself for it, for finally finding a foothold in the conversation.
"Pierce, I'm just a little confused," he admits, when there's another chance to get a word in edgewise.
"Hawkeye," Pierce offers easily. "And don't let a little confusion throw you, Captain."
"BJ."
"One of the first things you learn over here, BJ, is that insanity is no worse than the common cold."
BJ's not sure if that's supposed to be reassuring.
He's so lost, but Pierce concludes his conversation with Radar by saying, "Let us welcome yon weary traveller with food and drink," and it's the best suggestion BJ's heard all day.
"Kipling?" O'Reilly asks, confused.
"Auto Club."
"Right."
Pierce - Hawkeye - doesn't seem easily fazed, even by the loss of their means of transport. And 'O Club' or not, BJ can't deny that right now he needs a stiff drink (or seven). "Hey, I really wouldn't want to get him into any trouble," he says, but it's not a convincing protest, and Hawkeye has a solution in hand before BJ can even blink.
He's pretty sure it won't work, that it'll take more than borrowed 'costume jewellery' to make Radar blend in, but he can't seem to say no, can't even want to; he's too busy processing the way Hawkeye invades his space and plucks the bars off his shoulder, easy and familiar. BJ is startled by the intimacy, startled more by how he doesn't object to it.
He may be a little spellbound.
Then Hawkeye starts to really talk, extracting facts from BJ with the ease of a magician, painting a picture of the war and the people, handling the bartender and a colonel without missing a beat, and BJ watches and listens with the wonder of a child.
When BJ backs him up on the corporal-captain schtick, irresistibly caught in Hawkeye's gravity, Hawkeye looks both impressed and approving. BJ wonders if he should explain he's along for the ride, and Hawkeye's magnetism is such BJ can't seem to help following his lead, but decides letting Hawkeye believe he's just that quick-witted might be the better part of valour.
Between the drink and Hawkeye being Hawkeye, BJ feels better about the whole thing by the time he's paying their tab. Okay, and the way Hawkeye grins at him about poker doesn't hurt his spirits any. BJ has a suspicion he may get fleeced, but it's hard to care when Hawkeye's smiling at him like that.
Stealing a general's jeep is monumentally stupid, but BJ is too buzzed to be anything but amused. He starts to think this might not be so bad after all.
He's wrong.
The trip back to the 4077th is an extended nightmare. Fooling MPs is one thing, but the horror of a man using his daughters as minesweepers makes BJ think of Erin and feel sick, then somehow it contrives to get worse. BJ knew he wasn't ready for this, but if he'd known how not ready he was, he would've done anything to get out of it. He is drowning.
He's so glad Hawkeye's with them. Radar's a nice kid, and he's damn courageous, but it's Hawkeye BJ finds himself looking to and not-quite-literally clinging to. A life-preserver in olive drab and snark.
BJ learns a lot on that journey. He learns about fear. He learns what abject poverty looks like. He learns that some soldiers are beyond help. He learns what it's like to fall down on the battlefield, to puke his guts out, to be ashamed and embarrassed in front of someone he was desperate to impress, and have that same someone reach out a hand without judgement to help him up.
He discovers it takes no time at all to trust and rely on this man when the enemy is lobbing bombs at them. He finds out Hawkeye is brave and angry and skilled and, to his surprise, kind. He feels the first tendrils of a bond he knows instinctively is going to change his life.
And then he learns that it's a lot easier to cope with it all when he's so drunk he can barely stand and everything is riotously funny.