Archive of Our Own

BJ shakes his head. He supposes it's very possible that he does, that he's been here before. That's not unusual.

Abruptly he stops in his tracks. In case he needs to intervene, BJ calmly, carefully watches when the man takes one broad hand and reaches out with it towards the kid, who so looks easy to push around and intimidate, especially maybe in the eyes of a big guy like that.

But there's no issue. The man simply rests the hand on Radar's shoulder, rather paternal like actually.

No issue except that Radar beams in response. 

And it's not an issue but it is weird as hell. 

BJ rearranges his worldview - or at least his estimation of their guest - as Radar smiles brightly in the way reserved for special occasions like when Hawkeye compliments him. Even Father Mulcahy is hard pressed to garner an expression like that from the kid. 

In that moment, BJ realizes the kid hasn't once given a salute to the officer. And that too is more than bizarre. 

The man walks away, salute-less, and with a jaunty yet lazy wave goodbye over one broad shoulder that Radar returns in enthusiasm even though the man can't see it. Looking pleased as punch to do so and not at all uncomfortable around an unfamiliar officer.

BJ gives Radar a moment to compose himself and then saddles up to him. "Who's that?"

"Hm?" Radar looks up at him and then glances in the direction of the VIP tent. "Oh. Oh, well, um. He just got in from Seoul actually."

Well now. A definitive deflective non-answer. Isn't that curious? BJ's eyebrows lift. "Radar, come on... Who is it?" 

Radar furtively glances around. Naturally BJ joins in. When Radar's satisfied that there is no one around is too nearby or listening he leans in closer to BJ. "Alright, keep it down," He whispers. "But it's a surprise." 

"A surprise? What is he, some sort of movie star?" The fellow seemed built that way but no matter his frame, he had been in officer's clothes...

Radar shakes his head. "Promise me you won't tell anyone!"

It's no sweat of BJ's back. "Well sure - "

Radar shakes his head. "Especially not Hawkeye!"

Well now. That's a bit more than odd, isn't it? BJ puts his hands on his hips and thinks it over. "Especially not Hawkeye, eh?"

"Come on, please," Radar begs. "It's not a bad surprise. It's just... It'd mean a lot to him - to me, I mean - if you could, y'know, keep it under wraps. Aw, nothing long either! Just until he finds out!" 

"And when's that?" 

Even though BJ hasn't sworn to secrecy, Radar's shoulder slump in relief. "Just a couple days. Maybe only the one. Look, thanks for this. Don't tell him. Promise? You won't?" 

"I won't tell Hawkeye," BJ agrees finally. What's one little favor to the kid gonna hurt, anyhow? It's just for a day or two.

It'll be fine. Hawkeye could do with a good ol' surprise in his life. BJ would like to see that. 

Yeah, he thinks later. Famous last words, huh, BJ? 

When it opens, BJ glances lazily at the door, expecting it to be Radar perhaps since Frank's on shift. And it is Radar.

It's also the mystery man. 

"Um," Radar uncertainly begins from beside him. Clearly not having anticipated that Hawkeye would have been covering his eyes with his pillow instead of laying on top of it. "Sir?"

"More wounded?" Hawkeye guesses. Swaying, the surprise man gravitates toward him like the exasperated words are a lure he can't resist.

Cautious of such a response, BJ narrows his eyes and watches while Hawkeye remains oblivious to the man and his rapturous half step towards him. 

"No, sir," Radar answers honestly. 

"Then I'm sorry, my dear, but the theater is completely sold out and you're going to have to buy a ticket to a different program somewhere else." Hawkeye sighs, snuffling, in a dramatic show of attempting sleep. "We are closed." 

The man's grin is as warm as his voice. "And here I was hoping for the balcony seats."

Immediately Hawkeye jolts upwards, the pillow sliding off his face and falling to the floor as he scrambles to his feet - so quickly that he almost trips from his blanket and unsteadily catches himself with pinwheeling limbs and then a firm attachment to the man's arm that he grabs on to like a lifeline.

And not, BJ realizes, solely to keep from falling. No. He would have grabbed the man this way even had he never stumbled. 

Hawkeye's hands travel desperately from the man's arm to his chest and there he grips the man's shirt in tight fistfuls.

"Hey," The man consoles gently as Hawkeye reels him in as if in dire need to keep him in as close physical proximity as possible. 

"Trapper?" Hawkeye breathes, eyes wild and desperate. 

And, oh, BJ realizes. Oh. 

The man's grin is as slow and as saccharine as molasses. "Honey, I'm home." 

Hawkeye's wild desperation shifts to jubilance for a giddy moment and then focuses on elated confusion. "Trapper?" 

His laughter is incredulous. His obvious feelings of disbelief in no way prevent him from surging to his feet and reaching out, tugging on green material of the man's shirt. Hands beseeching as he grabs hold on cloth, elbows, shoulders, waist in frantic tugs.

"I don't, I don't understand. Trapper how are you here?" He hasn't finished asking the question before he realizes the next. Reality sinks into his elation and brings him back down. His hand still where they are and bunch into the front fabric of the shirt. "Why are you here?"

Hawkeye's need to know supersedes his previous joy. His face scrunches. He looks worried. Fretful. 

The man - Hawkeye had called him Trapper. The Trapper, BJ realizes - glances at Radar. The two of them have been equally forgotten, absconded by the seemingly initimate reunion happening in their presence.

McIntyre looks down and then places his large hand ever so carefully upon Hawkeye's fists of shirt fabric. "Hawk," He says slowly gently. Like he's breaking bad news. "I'm real sorry. Trust me. I'm real sorry."

"You're sorry?" Hawkeye interjects. "I don't understand  - why don't you tell me what you're sorry for. Just so that we're on the same page here because I'm not sure I'm understanding."

"About everything. But I'd do it again. So don't - don't... Hey, hey, no, no, shh -"

The man breaks off his speech to make shushing noises, attempting to soothe away the unsteady and loud breaths that have arisen in Hawkeye.

BJ doesn't realize that - sometime in all of this - he's gotten up until now as he takes a step toward Hawkeye while Radar catches him by the arm and halts him in his tracks. When he turns to stare down at him, Radar shakes his head. "Give 'em a minute," He whispers. BJ doesn't want to. That's his best friend over there, sounding like he's in a prelude to some sort of breakdown. "Wait a minute," Radar whispers again. Eyes darting from each man in the tent in quick succession.

BJ doesn't want to listen. Doesn't want to feel like an intruder in his own tent. But even more, doesn't want Hawkeye to make noises that sound like that and just stand there and watch without trying to help him. And so, no, BJ doesn't want to listen. But Radar shakes his head again and BJ tries to reign it in.

Hawkeye too shakes his head. "Terrific!" His tone of course belays that it is anything but. "I knew I missed you, I did, of course I did, but to think that I'd stoop to hallucinations!" He chuckles wryly. BJ's not sure if he's even trying to joke or not, not anymore. Because it's clear that Hawkeye doesn't believe what he's saying. Just that he's spewing it out now and is committed to it like some sort of running bit until he can drop the punchlines. It's only...

It's only that it's so clear that Hawkeye isn't saying these things to be funny. He's saying them, BJ thinks, to stall. To stall for what, now that he doesn't know. Time to absorb the situation and adjust? It doesn't seem likely, considering how quick Hawkeye is, but that's the best guess BJ has as Hawkeye rambles on like it's an obligation instead of a joke.

"And look at me - talking to one! But then again I've never met a hallucination before - what do I know? Maybe it's only polite to talk to them. Real person or not, no one likes to be ignored after all."

The man frowns. "You don't really think I'm...? Well, it doesn't matter; I'm real. I promise. I'm real. I'm here. It's me, Hawk. It's me."

A coy smile glances upon Hawkeye as he coquettishly bats his eyes. "Sounds like something a hallucination would say."

The man purses his mouth. After a moment he says, "Go on. Ask Radar. See if I'm not real." BJ's a little surprised McIntyre's suddenly remembered that other people are present in this tent enough to suggest it.

"Oh," Hawkeye scoffs, "Radar doesn't count." Likewise reminded now that the Swamp is not comprised solely of himself and John McIntyre, he turns to look at the kid and quickly adds, "No offense! It's just - "

"Oh!" Radar laughs, as if having intuned what the rest of that sentence was going to be. "No, sir, my gift doesn't work with hallucinations!" He and his smile pause. "Or at least... I don't... think it does."

Coincidentally it is exactly sixty seconds after Radar had told him to wait one minute when Hawkeye asks BJ, "Well, Beej? Do you see him or not?" 

'See who?' might've been his normal joking answer before he came out with his actual response. However nothing about this is normal.

"I do," BJ confirms. There's little else to say. Or, little else that is acceptable to say. He has a lot of words he wants to say to McIntyre. None of them tone appropriate for the ongoing situation.

Immediately Hawkeye's expression shutters.

The man turns to look at BJ. And, now, BJ can't be certain of it - but it almost seems like McIntyre is jealous that Hawkeye has taken BJ at his word so readily when Hawkeye hadn't taken him for his even after multiple attempts; BJ can't be certain, but some part of him hopes that McIntyre is jealous. Feels that he should be.

Hawkeye's hands loosen their hold upon the man's shirt, somewhat relaxing their grip but not letting go in the slightest. McIntyre keeps his hold upon Hawkeye's hands.

"Radar," The man says without looking away from Hawkeye's somber face.

"Hm? Oh. Right!" Radar scurries toward the door. Pauses in the doorway and flaps his palm as a 'come here' gesture towards BJ upon seeing that he's the only one leaving. 

And like hell does BJ want to leave this tent.

BJ looks at that open door and then looks at his friend. "Hawkeye," He says. Serious. Garners two head turns as a result, but only one of those matters right now. "You gonna be okay or should I stick around?" BJ knows which answer he would prefer to hear.

"Hm?" Hawkeye blinks. "Of course. No, I'm fine with - no, Trapper isn't going to - " He cuts himself off multiple times. It's jarring to this ineloquence from him of all people. He always knows exactly what to say with a sharp wit that never slows down and that BJ tries so hard to emulate in order to impress upon Hawkeye that see? see I can keep up with you. Hawkeye stumbling for words? It makes BJ start to really dislike McIntyre. 

'He isn't what,' BJ wants to ask, 'isn't gonna break your heart again?'

But he isn't that cruel of a man, no matter the unpleasant feelings of unease and jealousy that storm within him. 

The man - Trapper, damn it, because there's only so long BJ can spend playing oblivious when he knows already - studies BJ with a look far too clinical for his lofty voice. "He'll be okay."

And that? That infuriates BJ. That he could think he's able to promise that on Hawkeye's behalf.

And from him, of all of people. As if his presence - or rather therefore lack of - hasn't been a ghost hanging over Hawkeye's head ever from day fucking one since BJ's first come to Korea. Him! Promising Hawkeye will be okay! The gall! The nerve! BJ wants to give him a piece of his mind, or at least enough to charge a pennyworth, and even opens his mouth to snark something.

Hawkeye's hands fall away from gripping McIntyre's shirt; Trapper's hands follow for a brief moment before they return to his own sides. Physically they lose connection; but intangibly it is indubitably there. And, uncertain now, BJ shuts his mouth.

Hawkeye looks to Radar. "Hey, do me a favor? And - "

"I'll make sure Major Burns stays away," Radar says. Says right before and then while Hawkeye says, "And keep Frank away." Radar nods, unphased by his having agreed to a task that had not yet been asked of him. None of them are phased by it.

"Get you a drink?" Hawkeye offers quietly as finally BJ concedes and steps out the door.

"Yeah - but let me get you one," McIntyre agrees. Hawkeye laughs like it's the most charming witticism he's ever heard.

And it's strange. To hear Hawkeye laugh like that so easily for someone else when all this time he's known him that's all BJ ever strived for.

He goes for a short little walk - just far enough that Radar thinks he's left - and doubles back to the Swamp. He gives Hawkeye his privacy in every other scenario - but not for this. For this, BJ is not above eavesdropping.

He crouches below the open panelling that marks as windows, the one nearest to Hawkeye's bed, and carefully peeks up over it, just enough to see. Kneels in the dirt, which feels a little too symbolic to his situation, and tries to stay out of sight while keeping them clearly within his line of sight. It's a talent. BJ excels at it, really, though he usually has very little need for a talent such as this and never before used toward spying upon Hawkeye.

Their conversation hasn't progressed too far. It's easy to catch up. Somehow BJ doesn't consider himself very fortunate despite this stroke of luck.

"What's the best kind of lie?" McIntyre questions with a great solemnity. 

It is clear that he is speaking rhetorically, but even knowing that Hawkeye still chimes in a pithy, "A lie down next to somebody at night." 

McIntyre smile is melancholic. "The best kind of lie? It's one that you really wanna believe is true." He waits for that to sink in. To devastate Hawkeye with a graciousness, at least he does that small kindness. Giving him time. "And I did. But, uh. More importantly: you did."

"So I did," Hawkeye agrees quietly. He looks down at the empty glass in his hand. Swirls it as if it were full.

BJ's heart almost stops when he becomes aware of Radar's presence beside him. Radar's too short to kneel and peek through the flaps and is instead pressing one ear against the tent to focus in hearing the ongoings. He must've finished ensuring Frank didn't stop by and snuck back to eavesdrop; BJ just isn't sure when exactly it was that Radar came back.

The both listen alongside the unsuspecting McIntyre as Hawkeye continues. "So - what? You've... been here the whole time? Well. Of course not here here. But here? In Korea? You weren't..." Hawkeye takes in a shuddering breath. "You were never safe?"

BJ doesn't envy McIntyre, having to face Hawkeye's despair and know he's responsible for such a thing. McIntyre too seems at a momentary loss of how to face up to it. Beside BJ, Radar winces.

"This whole time I thought you were home," Hawkeye continues, tone wet with the tears he doesn't shed, "You were here? You could've died and I - " Hawkeye takes in a breath. "I never would've known." He lifts his gaze. Steely. "That's not fair."

"You're right," McIntyre agrees, to BJ's surprise. It doesn't soothe Hawkeye's anger; but Hawkeye's gaze flickers down and away - thinking - before resettling upon the man. "It wasn't fair, especially not to you. But, Hawkeye, I didn't want to be fair. I wanted to protect you."

Radar inhales something odd of a sound. It absconds the sound of BJ's own strange breath in. He isn't sure why but... But somehow the confession in McIntyre's words felt all too intimate and overbearing to witness as an outsider. The barrier of the tent walls between them feel like the Tabernacle, separating him from being allowed to be in the presence of something holy. He's not meant to be here  Not meant to witness. 

It makes him clench his jaw. Grind his teeth. He's always known there to be a barrier between him and Hawkeye - but he'd been working on dissolving it, had made such progress, had gotten (he'd thought) Hawkeye to let him in. Only now he's realizing that barrier that's been there is McIntyre shaped and permits McIntyre alone entry while BJ watches from the sidelines, from the outside, and - and 

And so his jaw clenches. His teeth ache. 

Loudly Hawkeye scoffs. "Protect me! From what? The truth?"

"Yes!" McIntyre agrees immediately. It isn't quite a shout but it still stuns Hawkeye. 

"Oh."

BJ thinks McIntyre looks to be the sort of man used to shouting; but clearly Hawkeye disagrees, taken aback by such. He sets his glass down and doesn't refill it; his head is bowed over their still like it has the answers he needs but he's too unwilling to ask.

BJ doesn't know what to make of McIntyre, and he hates that more that he'd thought he would. He doesn't want to discover that, despite appearances and brawn, McIntyre isn't the sort to shout. Or at least - not the sort to shout at Hawkeye. And that he's shouting now, overwhelmed by - by

BJ doesn't want to know the emotion in McIntyre's voice as he shouts now at Hawkeye. He can't unhear it, can't unsee the stunned awe on Hawkeye's face when finally Hawkeye lifts his head and once more steps towards the direction of his bed - and more towards where BJ's secretly absconded himself away to than standing by the still had been.

"The truth is exactly what I wanted to protect you from."

The only reaction to that Hawkeye manages is to sit down upon his cot.  

Still Hawkeye manages to compose himself faster than BJ does, which is more than admirable, all things considering. His awe and wide eyes settle down; his sudden defeat shooed away like a cobweb. 

Still, there is more than one long moment in which he falters in his anger, and after waiting patiently eventually McIntyre presses on. Reaches out a hand that hovers uncertainly in the air. 

"Hawkeye, I was outta my mind with worry. You didn't see yourself after Henry - "

Radar doesn't quite manage to conceal his pained noise; luckily it is lost those within the tent and only BJ by proximity is there to hear it and then glances at the kid in time to see him slap a nervous hand over his mouth.

"Trapper - " Hawkeye protests, but the man didn't let him interrupt.

"No, no you didn't see yourself. But I did. This whole camp did. I was scared for you! Everyone was worried sick about you! And worse - there was nothing we could do!" BJ knows what McIntyre means. He knows that feeling of desperation, when one's worried about Hawkeye, but then again maybe he doesn't know. He's never quite seen Hawkeye like McIntyre's making him out to sound. He hopes to God he'll never have to see Hawkeye like McIntyre's making him out to sound.

"Was it that bad?" BJ quietly asks Radar.

He lowers the hand and takes care to not be overheard. "Worse," He confirms somberly.

Stomach churning, BJ looks back into the tent.

BJ doesn't want to feel sympathy for McIntyre. He doesn't. And yet... Yeah. He can't imagine what he'd do, if he had to see Hawkeye in that state. Unable to help.

"We didn't know what to expect when you came back from R&R, but by God we figured it could only be an improvement at that point. Hawkeye... you were - it was more than being devastated. Much more. I've never seen you - never seen anything like it." 

"And so what?" Hawkeye asked, feigning at sarcasm and missing the mark by more than a hundred miles. He's certainly not fooling BJ and he's got a feeling neither is he fooling McIntyre. How can he be? Sounding like that? No. "I scared you off then?"

"Never," McIntyre vehemently denies. And... And BJ believes him. And not just because BJ knows how he himself would feel about it. About Hawkeye.  

"Oh. I should go," Radar suddenly whispers. BJ looks toward him, surprised. Radar isn't meeting his eye. BJ will have to check on him later; but for now, he isn't leaving Hawkeye for anything barring an influx of incoming wounded.

McIntyre starts up talking again just as Radar's left, a coincidence. "The transfer came from higher ups. They wanted one of our surgeons." BJ wonders what it means that, even now, McIntyre refers to the unit as 'us' even though he hasn't been in it. "It couldn't be Frank, since he was in charge and all."

"What?" Hawkeye asks, even though comprehension is dawning upon him as - at long last - he is beginning to understand. "Which leaves me or you, then."

McIntyre nods. "See, the brass figured that our one ninety-seven percent wasn't good enough; that it outta be replicated."

"Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery," Hawkeye misquotes. Misquotes!

McIntyre nods. Doesn't call him out on it or doesn't recognize the significance in Hawkeye getting it wrong, BJ's uncertain to which.

"And that one of the forty seventy-seven's surgeons ought to head different MASH units and train 'em until... Well, if not ninety-seven percent, then at least they became until some percent higher. Get stationed wherever the lowest percent is to start off."

"Nowhere to go but up?" Hawkeye asks. The return of Hawkeye's quips should be a comfort; somehow it isn't much of one.

Though McIntyre must disagree because for a brief second McIntyre smiles. "Yeah something exactly like that."

The humor fades.

"Margaret and I talked it over and we both agreed. Sending you away from everyone when you were already suffering to that point; well it seemed like the cruelest route to take. I couldn't let them do it. Picturing you in some low survival percentile unit, among dying patients that even you can't save because you're just one man - "

Hawkeye makes to argue. BJ can't hear his reply over the mental imagining of it. The scenario McIntyre is painting is a grim one. Selfishly, BJ is glad that McIntyre chose to go instead of Hawkeye being considered.

" - a whole camp of Frank Burns who wouldn't give a fuck all if the patients died or not - and even you have to sleep some time. You can't singlehandedly save everyone, Hawkeye, but you'd kill yourself trying. Which would be bad enough! But right after - not even a week after Henry? Days after?"

BJ clenches his fists. In the tent, McIntyre stands, steps closer to Hawkeye's side of the room, and BJ loses sight of Hawkeye's expression as McIntyre's broadness conceals it from this angle.

"Hawkeye, we didn't think you'd survive it. Being on your own like that."

"Oh yes, Trapper," Hawkeye says. All indignation and not nearly enough wit. "Because you leaving was so much better."

"Yeah," McIntyre agrees, stonily, "It was, actually. Because I was gonna be damned before I sent you away from everyone. I had a far better chance of survivin' it - "

"I didn't ask you to survive it! And not all this while I thought you were home!"

"Better you thinkin' that than you spending every day wondering if I'm dead!" McIntyre coldly shoots back.

The silence in the Swamp is eerie.

"Hawk," Now McIntyre sounds very remorseful. The coldness seeping away into something melty and watery underneath. "I didn't mean that - " But it's obvious to them all that he did. He stops. Course corrects. "Like I said: I don't regret a goddamn thing because I'd do it again, the exact same way even."

McIntyre takes a seat on Hawkeye's bed. Their shoulders touch, purposefully. Hawkeye stares ahead as McIntyre stares at Hawkeye. 

Usually Hawkeye is an emotional man, and he tends to react loudly, dramatically, humorously, and without any self-consciousness in the slight. Despite his antics, it isn't often that anyone forgets he's an intelligent man because he's brilliant and frequently exhibits genius. But in this moment somehow BJ finds himself taken aback as instead of dramatics or humor, Hawkeye uncharacteristically slumps forward, the fight leaving him as weariness takes hold. And then, as if to remind BJ that above all, he is still that very intelligent man even without the moments of dramatics, he states quietly, "You were at the front lines."

In sync McIntyre and BJ both suck in a breath.

"Hawk," McIntyre says. A consolation. No denial follows.

Wretchedly Hawkeye laughs. "You weren't even going to tell - you were going to keep it from me?"

McIntyre sighs. "Figured I'd save at least one of us from the knowing it." He rubs his two large palms across his face. "For all it's worth - I am sorry for lying to you. But something like this..."

"Damn it, Trapper, something like this - of all things - I should've been told! I should know!"

McIntyre reaches out - stretches long enough to reach - and refills Hawkeye's martini glass. "Maybe," He agrees after taking a sip. "And hell maybe I would have told you. If it hadn't been so soon after Henry."

"I wasn't the only one broken up about him."

"No." McIntyre lifts his glass but doesn't drink. Just stares at it in contemplation - or recollection - as he speaks. "But you were broken up and breaking apart. And not only was there nothing I could do - but me leaving to the front? How could I tell you?"

"So it's my fault?"

That garners McIntyre turning his head to look at Hawkeye. "It was no one's fault." He pauses, takes another sip of gin after all. "No, it was MacArthur and Truman's fault or this entire damn war's fault. But not yours. But not mine either."

In one go McIntyre drains his mostly full glass. Despite that taste, despite that strength, he doesn't even wince - well. Not from the alcohol at least. "I knew - I just knew - what the truth would've done to you. I refused to make the war force me to be the one to do that to ya. Not if I could help it. Not if I could protect you from that heartache."

"By lying to me." Hawkeye is quiet. Less angry. "You and everyone in the camp."

"Well," McIntyre hedged, "Not exactly. Actually, for the most part, I lied to the majority of camp."

Surprised, Hawkeye's shoulders straighten back out of their slump. "What?"

McIntyre shrugs. "Yeah. I mean. I couldn't risk you finding out, so I went all in. Even looked the padre right in the eye when he congratulated me on going home and told him thanks."

McIntyre sighs, tilts his head up toward the cloth ceiling. "It was just three of us, really. That knew. Me, Radar, and Margaret. She didn't even tell Frank. Even if she could swear him to secrecy, we couldn't risk him taunting you with it in an act of petty revenge the first instance you reminded him he isn't God's gift to mankind."

BJ doesn't know what he'd do, had he been the one in McIntyre's shoes. He doesn't think he would've kept it from Hawkeye but the uncertainty - he'll never know. 

Even so, it's easy to judge McIntyre and find him at fault. Find him lacking. It's unfair maybe. But still BJ condemns him for putting Hawkeye through this, even knowing that McIntyre's right and there's not really a specific person to blame here. 

"Hey," McIntyre quietly prods after there's a long moment of silence between them. "Are you mad at me?"

"Mad?" Hawkeye asks lightly. "Oh I'm livid." 

McIntyre chuckles. "Thought so." He pauses. Then glances at Hawkeye with a grin that for some reason curves as demurely obscene as a lipstick mark on a collared shirt. "But..?"

Hawkeye's sigh sounds exasperated - but it also sounds very, very fond. "But I'm glad you're here."

McIntyre nods. "So am I." 

There's a warmth between them. Any harried emotions mended by the intimacy of their cherishing one another. Unrelatedly, BJ decides it's time he ought to rise from the dirt and leave them be. And he will. Any moment now. 

Instead he lowers his head and stares at the ground beneath him, willing it to offer more than dusty trousers or overheard confessions. 

"You know..." He can hear the smile in Hawkeye's voice, even with the lingering melancholy touching upon it. "You still owe me that goodbye." 

"What," McIntyre asks, sounding much the same, "Did Radar not give it to you then?" 

"Mm, no, no he did. I just thought..." 

It's obvious that, unlike BJ, McIntyre knows what it is that Hawkeye is thinking. "Alright." And McIntyre's low chuckle is - 

Well. It convinces him to leave after all. 

He crouches until he's out of sight of the Swamp's windows and only he does he stand. BJ brushes off the dirt from his kneecaps. Somehow, it doesn't quite come off all the way. 

It's not an omen. Really, it isn't.

Across the street, a peal of Hawkeye's laughter rings out - sudden and loud. Joyous. BJ smiles despite knowing who caused it because in the end it's just... Well it's always nice to hear Hawkeye laugh. That's why BJ tries so hard all the time to get him to do so. 

When he glances back at the Swamp, Hawkeye's silhouette is partially absconded by their bookshelf and clutter and McIntyre's silhouette leans over him to untie the rolled canvas in order to have windows. And soon enough Hawkeye becomes truly hidden from his gaze.

BJ watches as the canvas falls, and then again and again as McIntyre unwinds them all, the entire tent undergoing this treatment. They fall like stage curtains.

And so BJ has the oddest feeling, watching this, that there's the suggestion here that everyone ought to leave, to go home and let the theater breathe until it opens a new show and lets the audience in once again. But for now, its doors are closed. 

Klinger pauses as he's passing by. "Are you alright? You're looking a bit pale."  

"I'm alright," BJ answers whilst staring at those closed windows. "It's only... I just forgot to clap, is all. When it was over." 

Skeptically Klinger frowns at him but out of habit accepts the seemingly nonsensical remark. Right then. If Klinger can carry on as per routine, BJ ought to too. Well practiced, BJ represses and smiles; this, too, is in line with routine for how BJ goes about camp. In result to this Klinger immediately looks relieved. 

"Love your earrings today," BJ says; and although he hadn't meant it when he began saying it, he actually means it by the time he finishes. They are cute, once he's gotten over his mood enough to notice. 

Turning his head to better show them off, Klinger smiles. "They're new! Radar said he had someone bring them in from Seoul." McIntyre, BJ realizes.

Klinger widens his eyes. "But he won't say who! Do you think our little Radar has a secret beaux?" 

"If Radar had a secret beaux," He consoles, "You'd very well likely be the first to know." It's an effective comfort to Klinger. 

It's easy to loathe McIntyre when he's simply a man who broke Hawkeye's heart. It's harder to loathe him when he makes Hawkeye laugh and brings Klinger a pair of earrings. 

Harder, sure, to loathe him. BJ eyes the darkened Swamp. But still entirely manageable.

And so BJ manages and manages it well.