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Sidney’s visit restored some of Hawkeye’s peace of mind and the peace of his nights, at the low cost of a few bad hands and a few phantom hoops.
Even still, the apprehension was palpable as Hawk headed for his cot the next evening.
BJ watched as his friend made and remade the bed, a token effort considering the sheets hadn’t been washed in weeks, tweaking the turn of the blankets, fluffing the sorry looking standard-issue pillow. He didn’t bat an eyelid as Hawk stomped over to Frank’s bunk and swiped his pillow, slotting it behind his own before falling back onto the cot.
Silence prevailed for a moment as Hawkeye considered his handiwork. Mouth twisted in frustration, he hauled Frank’s pillow out from under his head and lobbed it back to his side of the Swamp.
“Not to your standards?” BJ asked dryly.
Hawkeye gave a huff, “No, it was too comfortable.”
“Too comfortable?” BJ quirked a brow.
“If it’s too comfortable, I might just like it.” He griped.
Hunnicutt stifled a chuckle and returned to his book.
Hawkeye stared into the ceiling for a few minutes. BJ counted down the seconds; stillness was not a state of mind that came easily to Hawkeye and most certainly wouldn’t last. Five, four, three, two…
“That’s it!” Pierce surged upright, springing from his bed straight into pacing.
And one. Hunnicutt dropped his hand to his book to keep his place and looked up to watch his friend.
“I can’t do it, I can’t! And it’s not that I don’t want to – oh, do I want to – I just can’t trust myself to!” He exclaimed as he tread the familiar route back and forth across the Swamp. “I’m worried that my mind is going to up and desert me like a dog chasing cars, that it’s going to sneak out on me whilst I should be sweetly slumbering!”
BJ put his book aside, reaching instead for the tapping tube of the still. He watched Hawkeye continue his tirade as he loosened the forceps and poured them both a nightcap. A glass alone wouldn’t be enough to take the edge off, but the routine might at least help.
“I should be sleeping, I should be making up for lost time, counting sheep! But I look at me, I’m still walking!” Hawkeye’s gesticulations didn’t stop even as he accepted the offered glass from BJ as he strode by him.
“Pity we can’t put your mind in a kennel for the night, but that would mean catching it first, and it bites.” BJ commented. “We could put a bell on it so we can hear it when it goes?”
“I wish I could chain my mind down, stop it from racking up any more miles of it’s own accord.” Hawkeye grumbled.
“Ask Frank how he does it, I doubt his mind’s done any significant mileage.” BJ suggested.
That at last drew a chuckle from Hawkeye, who relented in his pacing to sit back on his bunk. The two were silent as they downed their gin in sync.
“Well, if we’re still airing suggestions,” Hunnicutt started, “I could just tie you down, but you’d definitely find that too comfortable.”
Pierce’s mouth twisted in a grin. He dragged a hand over his face, drawing out a huge yawn. He passed BJ back the glass and fell back against his pillow.
“I’m just going to have to go for it.” He declared.
“I’ll referee this match.” BJ dragged a chair over to Hawk’s bedside, rocking back briefly to retrieve his book. “I want a nice clean fight, first one out the door wins.”
Pierce laughed again, dropping an arm over his face and trying to will himself to sleep. BJ leaned over him to turn his bunk light out.
“Thanks.” Hawk sighed.
“No problem.” BJ replied quietly.
He’d barely read a page before Hawkeye spoke again.
“Beej,” He began, “Do me a favour?”
“Hmm?” BJ didn’t look up from his book.
“If you see me make a run for it, take me out.” Hawk instructed tiredly.
“Where would you like to go?” He offered.
“I’m serious,” Hawkeye said, “Tackle me, break a leg, break both my legs, just make sure I stay put.”
BJ looked up now, noting the pain in Hawk’s voice. He’d planned to read until Hawkeye passed out, to stand watch – or sit, as it were – until he himself was too exhausted to stay awake. At this rate, Hawkeye might just outlast him, even with a four-day deficit.
“How about this?” Hunnicutt swung his legs up and rested them, ankles crossed, over Hawkeye’s own. “If you go wandering off down memory lane, you’ll have to get past me.”
“Tha’s better.” Hawkeye slurred through another yawn, tension dropping away from him at the contact.
BJ couldn’t count the times he’d helped Erin to sleep just by resting a hand on her, Hawkeye seemed to respond to simple touch just as well. “Good. Now go to sleep.”
“And if I don’t?” Came the answering jibe.
“So help me God, I will smother you with a pillow and use you as mattress myself. You won’t go anywhere.” BJ pledged.
“G’night, Beej.” Hawk seemed satisfied.
“Good night, Hawk.”
For once, there was no reply.
----
The small hours of the morning dawned bleak and grey and entirely ordinary.
Klinger escorted Major Burns across the compound as his shift in Post-op finished.
The Corporal enjoyed the rare moments when the man was too tired to sledge him for his choice of clothing, not that he didn’t dress as much to impress as he did for his own comfort. He’d been glad to complete his patrol without interruptions, especially without the interruptions of wandering surgeons, and was determined that Frank would enter the Swamp as quietly as he could.
Frank, for his part, was too tired to cause any fuss. He stumbled through the door and straight onto his cot, uncaring that his pillow was under his feet and not his head. Klinger waited by the door to make certain the Major was sound asleep, before sparing Hawkeye a glance.
The man was laying exactly how he’d been when he finally succumbed to sleep, hand draped over his face, breathing deeply and easily. Hunnicutt was still using him as a footrest, though he’d fallen asleep in his chair.
Klinger smiled to himself at the sight. It wasn’t the closest he’d seen the pair, but the casual contact seemed to have worked wonders for Pierce. He’d seen a simple nudge from BJ quell the fiery comments in Hawkeye’s throat in situations where the slightest spark would have set them all alight with fury.
Shouldering the cumbersome rifle, Klinger stepped in to pick up BJ’s book from where it had fallen, dropped a blanket over him, and turned out his bunk light.
He exited into the dull dawn, breathing a sigh of relief.
A quiet night at last.