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BJ’s blood ran ice cold at the sound and vision of Hawkeye screaming at his anesthetist. His shrieks brought the entire operating room to a silent almost-halt that was only broken when he grabbed the poor guy by the collar and threatened him.
The operating room swarmed to life to intervene. Potter - softly, kindly - ordered him out of the room to rest and recuperate. There weren’t all that many wounded that day and they could make do with three surgeons.
The whole ordeal shook him up so soundly that BJ didn’t have words for the freezing dread that filled his veins when a horrible screeching crash came from outside a few moments later.
Goldman ran in. “Dr. Hunnicutt, you oughta come see this.”
If it was possible to sink further into despair, Potter’s insistence that he go pushed BJ further into that wordless, numb feeling. He handed the reins over to Margaret and jogged out of the building at Goldman’s heels, untying his mask once he was beyond the prep room.
The O Club, or, more accurately, what used to be the O Club, was little more than a pile of wrent apart sheet metal and plywood with a government issued Jeep securely tucked in the middle. The back corner behind the bar was still standing with the ceiling sagging low into the rubble.
“Dr. Pierce?” He asked Goldman.
“Yeah.”
“Damnit.”
BJ picked his way into the middle of the mess, finding a dazed and confused Hawkeye trying to crawl through the passenger side of the car and an equally disoriented Igor cowering behind the bar. Even though his gut reaction was to help Hawkeye, he went over to help Igor to his feet. “You alright?”
His eyes were comically wide. “I think so, Doc.”
No visible contusions or lacerations. “Go to pre-OP and get checked out, okay? Goldman is out there if you need help. And tell Klinger to get Dr. Freedman on the phone, pronto.” Igor all but scampered out into the late morning light.
Hawkeye had pulled himself out of the Jeep and promptly collapsed onto the ground, sitting with his legs knotted up in front of him and his back to a deflating tire. Slowly, unsure of just what would set him off again, BJ lowered himself down next to him to start checking him for injuries.
“All I wanted was a whiskey.”
BJ nodded, taking Hawkeye’s farthest arm to examine it. “I didn’t know they had drive-through bars in Asia.”
Although he gave a soft smile, Hawkeye stayed quiet as BJ continued with his other arm and his legs. There were a few minor scratches but nothing worth phoning home about. He held Hawkeye by the temples, beginning to look over his scalp and skull.
He couldn’t ignore the way Hawkeye gazed up at him in the low light and settling dust. “I ever tell you how handsome you are?” BJ exhaled a laugh. “No, really! You could - you could stop traffic, Beej.”
“You and Peg should start a club.”
Hawkeye’s face soured. “Peg,” he muttered, like he’d forgotten she’d existed. “I don’t think Peg would like me very much.”
BJ inched his fingers around to the back of Hawkeye’s head. “Oh? I think she will. You’re my best friend, after all.”
“Yeah, Beej,” Hawkeye conceded, morose, “I’m your best friend.”
“Listen, I know I’m no prince, but you don’t have to say it like it’s a bad thing.”
His head appeared to be fine. No sore spots or bleeding. He moved down to prod at Hawkeye’s neck for strain. Movement over his shoulder made him turn his own head. It was Margaret - backlit by the Korean sun and certainly looking the part of the angel of mercy in her scrubs - miming sleep and an injection. Sedative . He nodded, sending her wordlessly scurrying back to the operating room.
“Beej?” Hawkeye’s voice was coated in panic.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
Two hands gripped at BJ’s shoulders and the front of his scrubs, still tacky with blood. “Did you stop them?”
“What?”
“Back in the OR. They were trying to suffocate that poor boy - did you stop them?”
BJ reached up to hold one of Hawkeye’s shaking hands over his heart. “No one suffocated anyone, I promise.”
Hawkeye relaxed into a deep breath. “Thank god. We’re doctors, you know? We - we made a vow to do no harm. We’re here to help people, not kill them, BJ.”
He couldn’t bring himself to do anything other than stare in horror at the anguish in Hawkeye’s face.
“Can you hold me?”
“Yeah, come here, Hawk.”
Slumping sideways against BJ’s chest, Hawkeye gave him no choice but to ease back from his squat into a full seat to accommodate the awkward addition of Hawkeye’s weight to his own. He curled around Hawkeye’s body protectively and slid one hand into his hair to rub reassuring circles on his scalp. Hawkeye’s eyes fluttered closed. “I’m so tired.”
“I know.”
“And I really wanted that damn whiskey.”
BJ let out a tight laugh. Anything to keep from crying.
Margaret slipped in, now without her hair cap and with her mask loose around her neck. She held out the prepared syringe handle first. BJ eased up Hawkeye’s scrub shirt to reveal a sliver of skin above his waistband and nodded at Margaret to do the honors. She glared at him before injecting Hawkeye.
“Jesus Christ!” He screeched, bowing forward into BJ and away from the needle. “What the hell was that?”
“Hawk,” BJ implored. He reached up to cup Hawkeye’s face. “Hey, you’re alright, okay? Everything’s fine.”
“Who else is here, Beej?” The question was jarring when Hawkeye’s eyes never left BJ’s own to ask it.
“It’s just Margaret.” He plastered his face in fabricated nonchalance. “Why don’t you get some sleep, Hawk? We’ve got you.”
Hawkeye looked almost grateful before he finally let himself fall unconscious in BJ’s arms.
He and Margaret exchanged a worried look over his curled up form.
“Hey Doc?” Klinger called, leaning into what was left of the O Club. “Major Freedman’s on the horn and asking for you.”
Apparently he froze, Margaret’s urgent voice cutting through like she was concerned about him of all people. “Go.”
“But Hawk -”
“I don’t know if you know this, but I’m a nurse, BJ. I’ll take care of him, it’s what I do.”
Following Klinger into the office, BJ finally felt the emotional exhaustion of the last hour hit him full force. He collapsed into Klinger’s chair, dragging his cap off of his head. “Thanks, Max.” He took the offered receiver. “Hey, Sid. How are ya?”
“Certainly better than you sound, I hope. What can I do for you, BJ?”
“It’s Hawkeye.” Klinger stopped in the doorway to pre-OP and tossed a worried glance over his shoulder before going back to his duties.
Sidney paused on the other line as BJ ran a ragged hand across his face. “Oh?”
“It’s bad this time.”
“Nightmares again? Is he manic? Or did he finally break down and try something on himself?” The psychiatrist’s tone was matter of fact, but still managed to convey his total empathy and care for Hawkeye’s wellbeing.
“He, uh, he about took out his anesthetist today because he thought they were trying to suffocate his patient. Then, when Potter kicked him out of the OR, he drove a Jeep straight into the O Club.” Jesus, it sounded even crazier out loud. BJ’s hands were shaking.
Sidney hummed. “Where is he now?”
“Margaret has him sedated. I don’t know where she’s gonna put him. Everyone else is still in surgery.” He rolled back in the chair, trying to gauge how full post-OP was becoming. “I know you probably need the Colonel to sign off on something so I’ll update him before you get here.”
“Thanks, BJ. Any idea what set him off?”
BJ stretched out a crick in his neck, thinking. “He was fine at the beach, but he was shaking getting off the bus. That was a few days ago and he hasn’t brought anything up since.”
A shuffling sound came across the phone like Sidney was balancing the phone with his shoulder and jotting down notes on scrap paper. “I’ll be on my way the second we hang up - pray the lights are with me.”
“Thanks, Sid.” The phone was halfway back to the box when BJ heard another sound come through. “Sorry, what was that?”
“I said how are you , doctor?”
BJ squirmed. “Honestly?” Sidney hummed in affirmation. “Scared out of my damn skull.”
“For him or for you?”
“For him, obviously,” BJ defended, trying to ignore the growing fear for his own sanity. “I’ve never seen him like this. And he’s my best friend, you know. I care about him and I don’t know what I can do to help him stop hurting.”
Sidney hummed again. “This is a good start. And I’m not just saying that because it’s keeping me in business.” The line went quiet for a moment, almost long enough for BJ to consider hanging up. “BJ, you’re allowed to feel this, you know.”
“Feel what?” He halfheartedly joked.
“I’ll see you soon, doctor.”
“Not if I see you first!”
The dull click of Sidney hanging up sounded in BJ’s ear, then the line was overcome with static.
***
The Hawkeye that BJ saw in the sanatorium was a shell of his former, lively self. He was always prone to his moods but in the few short minutes BJ spent with him he escalated from sitting half-dead to spitting vitriol. And he’d never yelled like that at BJ.
Ever.
Not even in their more intense bouts of disagreement.
He’d planned on telling Hawkeye he was going home, really. But somewhere between his eyes going from corpse-like to enraged all BJ could see was the shaking man curled up in his lap in a demolished O Club.
What kind of friend would cut down a suffering, unstable man like that? Okay, forget friend, what kind of coward?
***
Of course - of course! - it happened on an otherwise perfect Saturday morning.
BJ awoke to an already risen sun and a cacophony of birds outside the window. Peg was already up, as she usually was, and the smell of fresh coffee wafted into the room. Stretching for a long, languid moment, BJ slumped back into the mattress. For some reason it was particularly enticing this morning and while BJ didn’t dwell too long on why, he certainly wasn’t adverse to spending a few extra minutes wrapped in its deliciously welcoming embrace.
He slowly dragged himself out of bed, scratching at his face to try and wake himself up as he shrugged on casual clothes. The routine was muscle memory again: mow the lawn, clean the gutters, and take on any odd jobs Peg needed him to. Easy peasy. And mind blowingly normal in a way that BJ wished was more satisfying.
As soon as he descended the stairs and peeked around into the kitchen he knew something was off. Half-finished cup of coffee abandoned, Peg had her back to him and braced herself against the counter with both hands.
“Peg?”
She turned, painfully slow, like she had been waiting for him. Crossing her arms, she took a deep breath before she spoke in a low, even voice. “What the hell is this?”
“What’s what?”
“This letter I found on your desk.” The piece of paper in question dangled from between her pinched fingers as she waved it in front of her.
BJ couldn’t help but shrug. Could have been any sheet of printer paper for all he knew. He racked his brain for anything that could have been construed as incriminating and only came up with the list of psychiatrists he got from a colleague at the hospital. But they’d talked about that together, so BJ was left with nothing.
“It’s a love letter, BJ, I don’t know how much clearer I can be.”
He paused, feeling like he must have missed something. “I’m not writing any love letters.”
Peg fixed him with a look before tracing down the page with a fingertip and beginning to read. “ I can’t help but believe that things would be infinitely better if you were here beside me. That’s the kind of effect you have .” She looked up with a broken, disheartened face. “I know our life isn’t perfect but I didn’t think you were so miserable you’d go around behind my back!”
Oh. “Peggy, that’s not a love letter. I promise.”
She was livid now. “So I’m just supposed to believe someone broke into this house and scribbled this down? Grow up and own up, BJ.” Taking a deep breath, she rubbed her free hand over her forehead and spoke, her voice wavering with the effort of keeping quiet and even. “Who is it to?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Who are you writing to?” Peg raised her head to make eye contact and BJ was surprised to find fear written across her features.
“To Hawkeye.” He didn’t know how to say it other than casual and dismissive. This was a misunderstanding that they could work through if Peg could only calm down enough to actually talk.
“I can’t believe you!” Peg erupted. “I’m clearly in anguish over this and I’m asking a very simple question and you’re still toying with me. Who are you writing the damn letter to?”
BJ steeled himself. “I’m writing to Hawkeye.”
With a gasp, Peg’s face twisted like she was about to launch into another tirade. She looked back at him and her face fell. “Oh my god, you’re serious.”
He half shrugged in agreement.
“That would mean that you -” she began, trailing off and scratching at her neck. “ I never understood what we mean by phantom limb until I had to go from you being by my side to you being thousands of miles away .” She skimmed down toward the bottom of the page. “ I miss your smile most of all , yada, yada. You’re in love with Hawkeye.”
Him? In love? And with Hawkeye of all people? The idea was laughable until it wasn’t. Certainly his own letter writing didn’t seem to undercut it.
The realization hit him like a tidal wave.
He loved Hawkeye.
And every touch and laugh and memory flashing through BJ’s mind only raced to prove it. The snarky comments Frank used to make under his breath about the two of them suddenly didn’t seem so laughable. Maybe what they shared - what BJ assumed was the deepest, most encompassing friendship he’d ever known - was so intense and indescribable because it wasn’t just friendship. Maybe those tears on his anniversary had less to do with Peg dolled up and rigidly fulfilling a role on camera than they did with Hawkeye’s hand on his shoulder and weeks of hard work just for him. Maybe his panic at seeing Hawkeye surrounded by a destroyed O Club went a touch beyond simple camaraderie.
“I didn’t know.” The confession stumbled broken from his lips. He shook his head, suddenly weighed down by this colossal revelation and the freedom it brought. “Peg, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know how I felt until you connected the dots. I didn’t mean to.” When he closed his mouth BJ felt moisture. He was crying.
Peg stepped forward into his space. “Oh, BJ.” She took him into her arms, going easily with him as he sank to the ground in distress. Pushing his hair back from his forehead, she pressed her cheek to the warm skin there.
“I love him. I’m in love with him.” The words were new in his mouth, like the first bite of an unknown dish that he’d already decided he couldn’t get enough of.
Peg’s hand rubbed reassuring circles across his back.
He shifted to look her in the eye instead of staring a hole into the corner cabinet. “Are you angry?”
“Only a little.” She kissed his nose and came back with a soft smile. “We’ll figure it out together, you know.”
BJ sniffled. “Yeah, I know.” Even after the momentous realizations of the morning, Peg was still a familiar comfort as he settled against her. They shared an easy, if loaded, silence. “Where’s Erin?”
Doing her best to be inconspicuous, Peg reached up and wiped her nose. “I sent her across the street to play with the neighbors. I didn’t know how this would go so I didn’t know if it was a good idea to have her in the house.” She was not a known rambler. So, support that she had been, Peg was cracking under the weight of her own emotions.
BJ rearranged himself to kneel before Peg where she sat. He reached up and took her face in his hands, softly wiping away her tears with his thumbs. “Thank you.”
“Honestly, I was thinking I was going to hit you and scream at you.”
“I meant for… everything, Peg. You’re a hell of a woman and I’m so glad I had the good sense to marry you.”
Her lower lip trembled. “You don’t have to say that.”
“But I mean it.”
She seemed to understand. Well enough for now, anyway.
BJ helped her to her feet and warmed up her coffee, then they set about making breakfast. Love or no love, he and Peg made a good team. They would trod day by day into the future, whatever it held.
That elusive future held infinite possibilities and it no longer felt like a Sisyphian torture. Jesus, he could be in Maine soon. He could be with Hawkeye soon! He could be stumbling around a kitchen with the man he loved in a matter of weeks or months - he’d even settle for years, now that he knew what he wanted.
Peg elbowed him with a knowing smile. He startled back to the present moment and returned the look before the smell of burning egg reached his nostrils.
Rushing to turn off the stove and salvage what he could, Peg just stood back and laughed at him. What a Hawkeye thing to do , he mused as he dumped the majority of the scramble into the trash, grinning to himself.
***
Evening in the beach house enclosed them in a comfortable darkness. The last rays of sunlight soaked through the windows, mingling with the low, golden lamp light in the living room. Said windows were thrown wide open to let in the cool breeze and distant sounds of the tide lapping along the beach.
BJ lounged on the sofa with a bottle of beer - a bit of an on-the-nose symbol of his newfound bachelorhood - and watched Hawkeye stand in the front window as he looked out through the trees and over the road toward the bay.
“I don’t know if I should be offended that my view is more entertaining than me or if I should just be glad I don’t have to entertain you.”
Hawkeye turned with a shy smile, caught. “I know it’s stupid, but I’ve never seen a sunset like this.” He knocked back a sip of beer. “The sun’s only ever risen over the water, never gone down below it.”
BJ’s heart swelled. Love , he thought, this is what love is supposed to feel like . If he could, he’d arrange it so that Hawkeye could dreamily watch the sunrise over the Atlantic and sunset over the Pacific every day.
Finishing his beer, BJ began to psych himself up for the next conversation. In some ways he was ecstatic that Hawkeye’s reaction to hearing about his split with Peg was to hop on the first flight to California. But that meant he also had to take some initiative and communicate his feelings. Not his strength.
He cleared his throat. “Do you remember the day you went to the mental hospital in Seoul?”
“That wasn’t my clearest period.” Hawkeye’s body language changed, tightening even though he still looked out the window instead of at BJ. “I still have bits and pieces.”
“Do you remember talking to me in the O Club? Any of it?”
Hawkeye turned at that, though his face remained strangely unreadable. “I remember seeing your face.”
In an attempt to look calmer and cooler, not to mention more collected, than he felt, BJ stretched an arm out across the back of the sofa. “You called me handsome.”
“Thus, why you remember it.” The smile on Hawkeye’s face was genuine, even if he clearly didn’t see where BJ was going.
“I’m trying to be serious for once, do you mind?” He couldn’t help but smile back. “You called me handsome and then said that Peg wouldn’t like you very much. I mean, I’m not trying to be forward here, but if you were a nurse I’d know exactly what to read into that.”
“Aha.”
“Am I way off base?”
Hawkeye looked down at his hands, worrying at the edge of the beer label before looking back up with reserved eyes. “Something about this is feeling like maybe you are being forward. Nah, I was crazy about you.” Maybe BJ was imagining the deep breath Hawkeye was taking, seeing as how BJ could barely get any oxygen down at all. “I loved you so much, sometimes I thought that the entire Korean theater had to know how I felt.”
“And do you still feel that way?” He needed to be closer to Hawkeye. But he also realized there was a non-zero chance that Hawkeye bolted. Easing himself up, he strolled carefully across the room.
“Beej -”
“I just want to know. “
Hawkeye had that awful, miserable look on his face that he got whenever he didn’t want to do what needed to be done. “You want the truth?”
“It’d be nice, yeah.” BJ stopped in front of Hawkeye and put his hands on his hips.
With a sad sort of resignation, Hawkeye nodded. “Of course I do. You’re a hell of a guy to get over.”
“Really?” He breathlessly asked.
“You asked for the truth, remember.”
“Hawk, I -” BJ couldn’t think of a thing to do but lean in and kiss him. So he did. Not that point A to point B, but he kissed him. He raised two trembling hands to Hawkeye’s neck, wet his lips, hesitated, and slotted their mouths together. All at once he felt a wave of ease wash over him and a spark of excitement, no, elation erupt in his gut. He couldn’t get enough.
“Hold on, BJ.” Hawkeye pushed him back with hands on his hips. “I can’t do this.”
“What?”
“I know you’re going through a lot right now, so don’t sweat it, okay?” He lowered his hands from BJ’s sides but didn’t move away. After a breath to settle himself, Hawkeye started again. “I’m sure you’re in a weird place and you don’t need to prove anything to me. Just, you know, settle down and don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
An incredulous laugh shot out of BJ’s mouth. “Are you crazy?”
“I thought we’d already established that.”
BJ deflated, unable to choose between feeling upset and embarrassed. He stared down at the wearing toes of his slippers as he tried to make sense of the jumble in his head. The combined high of realizing Hawkeye’s feelings and finally kissing someone he truly loved were tempered by the immediate rejection that followed.
“Oh, come on, you’re not saying you love me?” Hawkeye questioned through a barely-concealed laugh.
“I just kissed you and I still have my arms around you and you’re trying to tell me that I’m not in love with you?”
He shook himself free of BJ’s grasp. “You’re grieving and exhausted and confused. And I’m safe and familiar. I know how this works, Beej. It’s okay, we can forget all about it.”
“I’m not confused! If anything, my mind is the clearest it’s ever been. For once in my life I actually know what I want.”
“BJ -”
Frustrated with the stubborn, selfless man in front of him, BJ switched tactics. “Do you know why Peg and I split up?”
Hawkeye shrugged. “Your nightmares? Did Peg do something while you were away?”
“We separated because I don’t love her.”
“Beej, I wasn’t born yesterday!” A humorless shade took over Hawkeye’s face. Apparently BJ’s frustration was contagious. “I know it’s what you do best, but I’d appreciate it if you stopped lying to me. You loved her more than I’ve ever seen one person love anybody else.”
“You’re wrong, Hawk.” Hawkeye set his jaw, patiently ready to hear BJ out before parrying his next statement. “I loved being a husband. I loved having something to lean on, you know? But I never loved Peg the way a husband is supposed to love his wife.”
“So what - you’re just giving up?”
“No, not giving up. I’m just going in a different direction. Toward what I actually want.”
Slowly telegraphing his movements, BJ took Hawkeye’s jaw in hand. He rubbed his thumb back and forth, the catch of stubble magical against his skin. Hawkeye closed his eyes at the movement. When he opened them again, there was a harrowing look in his eye that begged BJ not to hurt him.
“Hawkeye.” He took a deep breath. “Benjamin Franklin.” Hawkeye let out a soft laugh and BJ knew he had him. “I love you.”
“Beej,” Hawkeye began, trailing off. For the first time BJ could remember, he looked like he genuinely didn’t know what to say next.
“Benjamin James.”
“Huh?”
BJ dipped his head to the side. “If you wanted to extend the favor.”
A real, honest smile spread like sunshine over Hawkeye’s face. BJ was nearly overcome with utter adoration. Hawkeye shook his head fondly. “You’re an asshole.”
“And I’m all yours,” BJ promised.
“I love you.”
“Yeah, I picked up on that one.”
Hawkeye tossed his head back in pure laughter. “You’re the worst!”
“Kiss me.”
Hawkeye’s lips were soft and yielding against his. BJ already knew that he’d never get used to the warmth in his chest when they kissed. He still couldn’t believe that the love of his life was standing in his living room and grabbing at him with desperate, intentional movements.
He scrambled to close the blinds. Hawkeye laughed against his mouth, unwilling to let him go although BJ certainly wasn’t complaining. The blinds fully unfurled with a crash.
Later they’d collapse on the couch, or on the bed, or maybe even in the kitchen with their hands all over each other before they inevitably fell asleep in a heap. But for now and right here, BJ was happy - what a small word for such a big emotion, he thought - just to feel the life in his arms and coursing back into him through the man he loved.