Work Text:
Amidst the swathes of blood that Charles stood ankle deep in day by day, there was a sheen of happiness that prevailed in the 4077th. Call it human endurance, call it a gift, call it a silver lining.
When life at the 4077th had been foisted onto Charles, he made sure to keep every living creature at arms lengths—he would work as hard as any Winchester would, but he would not pretend to enjoy it or the people. As the weeks became months and leaves traded colours, Charles' stoic heart melted. It felt inevitable. There was simply no denying that the 4077th held a certain charm; the people were long-suffering by day and celebratory by night, recovering patients had grateful smiles and offhand jokes. It was baffling: Charles knew that war was a nightmare but the 4077th wrapped it up in nice, shiny paper.
He shared his living quarters with two talented doctors—though they often show more resemblance to scolded schoolboys than educated men—and took lunch along side a fiercely proud nurse who worked harder than any nurse Charles had had the pleasure of operating with. He followed the lead of a good and strong man who lived in war as Charles lived in splendour. A company clerk, whose predecessor was a boy too sweet for such a horrid place, that dismissed all opinions in favour of following his own ideas of the world. A priest with faith so strong he wore it as armour and a heart so kind he loved them all.
They were ridiculous, and brave, and uniquely assembled.
But with the light came the dark: the bloodshot eyes, the night terrors, the loneliness. Charles had always adored travel but he had never felt such longing for his home, his family. He didn't know if he could bare to be separated from a spouse and child as BJ was. He watched Hawkeye's meltdowns with the clinical gaze of a doctor. He saw Klinger's flare for dramatics come to a halt as Radar left them. He bore his shoulder for Margaret to cry on as her marriage dissolved like a pill in water. He heard Potter's wistful tone as he recalled domestic moments with his dear wife. He offered pitiful comforts to Mulcahy as the chaplain lost faith in his worth.
Ask him to his face and Charles would say the people of the 4077th would hold no place in his heart, but in his mind they would remain; a sombre memory of good people trapped in the dark pit of war. And for their pain his heart would ache.