Disclaimer: I don't own MASH. If I did, it would've been even slashier than it already was, if that's humanly possible.
A/N: A post-ep for "Best of Enemies." This one really wasn't remotely slashy (well…maybe) but this contains slash of the B.J./Hawkeye variety. I'm a slasher, what did you expect? And personally, I think it was more Hawkeye's being upset when he couldn't save the North Korean that made the other one let him go, but Hawkeye wants to believe differently.
"Good heavens, what time did he drag himself in?" Charles asked B.J.
"How would I know? I was asleep," B.J. replied exasperatedly. "From the looks of him, he had one wild R&R," he added, a small stab of jealously shooting through him at the thought of the girls Hawkeye had undoubtedly solicited.
Charles made a derisive sound. "And he calls himself a doctor."
"He's a good surgeon, and you know it," B.J. replied, picking up his fork and poking at his breakfast.
Charles didn't reply, just left the Swamp in a huff.
After B.J. had eaten (or not eaten), he decided to take his tray back to the mess tent and then take a shower. So he grabbed his shower kit and his tray, and then headed off towards the mess tent.
"Hello B.J.!" Margaret said cheerfully, falling into step with him, also carrying a tray. "How was your breakfast?"
B.J. grinned. "The food was terrible, but the service was great"
"I have to agree," Margaret replied, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
"I'll take your tray back for you, if you'd like," B.J. offered.
Margaret handed it to him. "Thanks."
"No sweat," he replied. He returned the trays and went to the showers. Before he opened the door, he could hear the water running, but since it was quiet except for that, he assumed that one cubicle was free.
B.J. was surprised to see that it was Hawkeye showering quietly, since Hawkeye was usually found singing off-key. Today, however, he seemed almost preoccupied as he showered, and B.J. didn't think it was just a hangover.
Hawkeye looked up as B.J. entered and stripped off his clothes. "Good morning," he said as B.J. stepped into the other cubicle.
"Morning," B.J. replied, wetting himself down. "How was Seoul?"
Hawkeye sighed. "Fine," he replied at last. He picked up his bar of soap and began rubbing it across his chest.
B.J. raised his eyebrows. "Only fine?" he questioned. Normally Hawkeye would rave about his debauchery on R&R.
"Yeah," Hawkeye replied, rinsing off his body and beginning to soap up his hair.
"What time did you get in last night?" B.J. asked, rubbing soap over his own body.
Hawkeye shook his head, sending soap suds flying. "I don't know, I didn't check the time. I went straight to bed."
"My, you're talkative this morning," B.J. commented sarcastically.
Hawkeye shrugged, then rinsed his hair and lathered up to shave.
"Hangover?" B.J. guessed shrewdly, rinsing the soap from his hair.
"Not today," Hawkeye replied.
B.J. looked skeptical as he snitched Hawkeye's shaving cream. "Okay. So what is the problem?"
"Nothing!" Hawkeye said harshly. "Ah!" He clapped a hand to his cheek.
B.J. paused in his own shaving to peer over the barrier at Hawkeye's face. "How bad did you cut yourself?" Hawkeye rinsed the blood and bubbles from his face and turned so his cheek was facing B.J. "Just a nick," B.J. said with relief, lifting his own razor again. "But you're only half shaved."
Hawkeye sighed and lathered on more shaving cream, then finished shaving quickly. "See you," he said, stepping out of the cubicle and toweling off quickly, then pulling on his red robe. He was gone before B.J. could reply.
B.J. frowned and finished his shower.
After observing Hawkeye's behavior during the day, B.J. had realized that Hawkeye really wasn't hung over, but something was bothering him. He resolved to talk to him as soon as they had a moment alone. It was nighttime before B.J. was alone with Hawkeye again, and even then they weren't really alone; Charles was there, sleeping.
B.J. waited until Hawkeye had lain back on his bed after finishing a letter before he spoke. "Hawk," he began quietly, so as not to wake Charles.
Hawkeye turned his head to look at B.J. "What?" he replied, just as quiet.
"What happened yesterday?"
"I went to Seoul," Hawkeye replied, then turned his head the other way and closed his eyes.
B.J. rose from where he'd been seated on his bed and sat in the chair beside Hawkeye's bed. "Uh-uh, that's not going to work."
Hawkeye sighed deeply and looked at B.J. again. "All right. A North Korean soldier captured me."
B.J.'s eyes widened, and he unconsciously reached for Hawkeye's hand. Hawkeye gave it to him.
"His buddy had been hit. The first soldier made it clear that if I didn't save him, I'd be killed. The injured man had a lot of shrapnel in his chest, but his head wounds were worse. One pupil was dilated."
"Subdural hematoma?" B.J. asked.
"Yeah," Hawkeye confirmed. "I only had the medical bag with me, I didn't have the equipment to fix him." Tears glittered in Hawkeye's eyes. "I tried but I--then his airway was blocked. I opened up his throat, and put a pen in--I was hoping he'd be able to get some air. But--it didn't work. I couldn't save him." The tears overflowed.
B.J. squeezed Hawkeye's hand.
Hawkeye drew in a shuddery breath. "The worst part was that if I'd been able to move him--to bring him here--I could have saved him. But I couldn't make the soldier understand. He knew I wanted to move him, but I don't think he realized that if I didn't, his friend would die. I think that's why he didn't kill me when I couldn't save his friend--he realized there was nothing I could have done. He motioned that I was free to go."
"And then you left?" B.J. asked.
"No. He started to dig a hole to bury his friend, and I helped him. Digging the hole and burying the body took all day. Then I came back." Hawkeye fell silent, then impatiently brushed away his tears.
"It wasn't your fault," B.J. said softly. "That he died. You tried."
"But not hard enough!" Hawkeye exclaimed, then immediately was silent again, looking worriedly at Charles. When Charles didn't wake up, he went on, "I should have tried harder. I might have--"
"Hawkeye," B.J. said firmly. "You were out in the middle of nowhere. You only had the equipment in your medical bag. You did the best you could."
Hawkeye sighed.
"You know I'm right," B.J. continued.
"Yeah, but…"
"But nothing. You did your best, that's all you could have done."
Hawkeye sighed again. "I guess so. But I could have saved him if only--"
"It's not your fault he died. It's this damn war."
"Yeah," Hawkeye said finally. "I don't care what anybody says, nothing good is coming out of this. Well, maybe one thing."
"One thing?" B.J. asked in surprise.
"Yeah. You and me--our friendship. And our…" Hawkeye stopped, without words as always for this particular aspect of their relationship. Just to make it clear what he meant, he sat up and pressed his lips to B.J.'s.
B.J. kissed back, but pulled away after a snort from Charles. "I guess I can agree with that," he whispered.
"Night," Hawkeye whispered back.
"Night," B.J. answered, then returned to his bed. He didn't sleep for awhile, just lie there and watched Hawkeye. Hawkeye was and always would be the sort of person who thought he had to save everyone, B.J. reflected. He hoped that he would always be able to save Hawkeye.
end