Critical
"Dr. Hunnicutt. B.J. I'm told he's a patient here," Hawkeye said, breathless, to the ICU nurse.
She briefly consulted the log on the desk in front of her, then nodded, "Yes sir, he's in room 220. But only family members are allowed to visit him in the ICU—"
"Please. I'm a doctor," Hawkeye tried.
A jet-black eyebrow arched as she studied him. "Then you know the rules, I'm sure—"
"Let's just say I'm his brother, all right?"
Something—maybe the frantic, terrified look on Hawkeye's face—convinced the nurse it was OK to bend the rules a little. She sighed. "Room 220 is down that hallway, sir. Doctor."
"Thank you." He hurried down the hall, getting his bearings… 218, 219… ah, there. He went in to room 220 without knocking and found Peg standing vigil over her husband's broken body.
Boy, broken was right. B.J. had been in a horrible motorcycle accident the day before, and Hawkeye had yet to get the full story, but it was apparent that his left leg and left wrist were broken. Hawkeye also remembered something about lacerations to the liver. Broken ribs? Probably. And no doubt much more. It looked bad, and Hawkeye fought back tears as he stood there, running his eyes over his unconscious best friend and all the damage that had been done to him.
He put his hand on Peg's arm. They hadn't met before this moment. "Peg?"
She turned to him with red, wet eyes. "Are you Hawkeye?"
"Yeah. How are you holding up?"
"Oh, all right, I guess." The words were accompanied by a sigh. "He's not out of the woods yet, you know, but the doctors are cautiously optimistic. He looks pathetic lying there, doesn't he?"
Hawkeye pointed to a chair and gestured that she should sit down. She shook her head. "I actually have to leave in a second. I need to pick up Erin... she's at my mother's. I'm glad you came when you did. Now somebody will be here with him." She stared at her husband in silence for a long moment, then said, "I've been talking to him some. I don't know if he hears, but I figured it can't hurt." She tried a smile, but it didn't work. "You'll stay with him, Hawkeye? I should be back in a couple of hours."
"Of course, Peg. I'll be here."
"Thank you." She bent down and kissed B.J. on the cheek. Sniffling but putting on a brave face, she left the room, just as a young doctor entered. He looked about as baby-faced as B.J. had the day Hawkeye first met him, at the Kimpo airport in Korea. That day seemed like a lifetime ago.
"Dr. Hawkeye Pierce," he introduced himself with a handshake. "What's the extent of the injuries?"
The doctor blinked at Hawkeye and furrowed his brow. He stole a glance at B.J., perhaps making absolutely sure he was in the right room. It might've been comical if Hawkeye weren't completely unnerved and on edge. "I don't understand. You're a family member, or his doctor, or what?"
"Kind of 'what,' I guess. Best friend. We served together in Korea, at a M*A*S*H unit."
"Ah. I see." The doctor nodded as he studied Hawkeye, perhaps wondering what it must have been like to be a surgeon in the Korean War. "I'm Dr. Harrison. I'm afraid the injuries are pretty severe. He's in critical condition, but I believe he's going to live." He consulted the chart he held and gave Hawkeye a litany of broken bones and internal injuries that nearly made the unflappable Hawkeye Pierce nauseous. "We've got him in a medically induced coma for now. We will evaluate tomorrow whether to take him off the drug."
Hawkeye turned his gaze back to B.J., unconscious and mercifully so, considering how badly hurt he was. "You're taking great care of him, doctor. Thank you."
Harrison checked the IV and made some notations on the chart, then left. Finally alone with his friend, Hawkeye moved closer to the bed and took hold of B.J.'s right hand... gently. "Damn, Hunnicutt," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Look what you've done. Nearly got yourself killed." He didn't like the scolding tone of his own voice, and he stopped himself right there. He believed B.J. could hear him, and a lecture was not what the poor guy needed right now. Switching gears, putting more tenderness into his voice, he said, "I know you can hear me, Beej. Hang on, OK? Come back to me. I need you."
The sweet, wholesome face was bruised and cut, and the breathtaking smile was absent, but Hawkeye stared anyway, every bit as in love as he'd been in Korea... though B.J. had never known that. He didn't dare confess his feelings, not to Mr. Clean, the most faithful, honest, upstanding man in all of Korea. Hawkeye had loved and desired from afar, but it was one of the hardest things he'd ever done. It'd been rough, saying goodbye to B.J. seven months ago when the war ended, but also a relief, because after Korea, the temptation was 3000 miles away instead of only 3 feet.
He hadn't seen B.J. since the war… until today.
"Some way to get me out to visit you, huh? But here I am. And if you're going to be any kind of host, you're going to have to get yourself out of this bed. You'll want to show me the Golden Gate Bridge, right? Chinatown?"
He couldn't keep up the phony patter. It wasn't what he really wanted to say. He went with his heart instead. "I love you, Beej. Please be strong. I'm going to make sure they take the absolute best care of you, and if they don't, then I will. You'll get through this. I love you."
He leaned over and kissed B.J.'s hand, the one he still held. No, he thought… that wasn't gonna do it. He kissed B.J.'s cheek then, and very lightly ran a finger along his jawline, staring. "Even now, even looking like hell, you're beautiful, Hunnicutt."
A couple days passed and Hawkeye felt like he was living at the hospital. He joked to the nurses that he ought to hang up his shingle across the hall. They loved him, the nurses. They listened to his war stories and flirted with him and laughed at his bad jokes. Everyone on the hospital staff seemed perfectly OK with Dr. Pierce from Maine hanging out in his best friend's ICU room against policy. When it came to breaking rules, as always Hawkeye was king.
He made sure he kept out of Peg's way, and he patiently explained to her every aspect of B.J.'s condition, which slowly improved. Very slowly. But that was better than deterioration, so they were grateful for whatever they could get.
Peg was out, ferrying Erin again from relative to relative, when B.J. woke up from his coma. Hawkeye was the only one in the room. He was dozing in the chair next to the bed when he heard movement of some kind, and his eyes snapped open. He looked at B.J. and saw his arm reaching out.
Hawkeye bolted out of the chair and stood over his friend. "Beej?" He watched as B.J.'s eyes fluttered, then opened. There was instant recognition in his expression, and Hawkeye smiled broadly. "B.J.? My God, it's great to see your eyes! What can I get for you? Can you say anything? Do you know what happened to you?" He forced himself to shut up and give the poor boy a moment to adjust to consciousness.
B.J. smiled weakly and reached for Hawkeye's hand. "Love you too, Hawk," he croaked.
Hawkeye's heart thudded. From when I first got here, he thought. When I first started talking to him. I told him I loved him. A shiver ran down his spine. He heard me; it registered.
"What can I get you, Beej?" He gave B.J.'s hand a gentle squeeze.
"Water?"
Hawkeye cradled B.J.'s head as he took some sips of water, positively elated at this turn of events, more convinced than ever that his friend was going to fully recover. He was so wrapped up in his own surprise and delight he nearly forgot to alert the nurses that their prized patient had woken up. "Damn," he said as he absently wiped a drop of water from B.J.'s chin. "I've gotta get the nurse, and there goes our private, romantic reunion scene. But don't worry, you'll love the doctors and nurses here, they're the best. Well, not quite the best—they don't have us on staff, do they? But they're not too bad."
"Hawkeye?" B.J. was pushing away the water and looking up at him.
"Your wife will be back soon, by the way. She's picking up Erin," Hawkeye was still rambling, feeling like there were a million things he needed to tell B.J., and all at one time.
"Hawk?"
Finally he stopped. "I'm sorry, Beej," he said, smiling. "What do you need?"
Sounding weaker by the minute: "You saved me."
"No. The doctors here, they saved you. I haven't been treating you, really. They're doing a fine job, though—"
"Your words. I heard you. I couldn't leave you. All I wanted to do was get back to you." B.J. closed his eyes, "I needed to get back to you." Weariness and weakness kicked in, and he drifted back to sleep.
Leaving Hawkeye cradling him, gently rocking him, tears in his eyes, spilling down his cheeks.
Recovery was slow but steady. Long, long months of rehab awaited. But miraculously, B.J. was discharged from the hospital less than six weeks after his near-fatal accident. He was wheelchair-bound at first, and Hawkeye moved into the Hunnicutts' spare room to help take care of him. Eventually B.J. was able to graduate to a walker, then to crutches. Physical therapy was hell and the drug regimen seemed never-ending.
But slowly, he mended. And slowly, he got stronger.
Peg, who hadn't been getting out of the house very often lately, took a few hours one afternoon for a shopping trip. While she was gone, Hawkeye helped B.J. out onto the front porch so they could enjoy a refreshing breeze and the warm sun, drink some beer, and talk. B.J. sat in a chair with his left leg propped up, still nursing it, while Hawkeye sat on the steps and leaned back against the railing, facing him.
"So..." Hawkeye said uneasily, peeling the label on his beer bottle. "I'm thinking it's time for me to head home. You're doing well, you're getting better all the time, and I've been gone way too long. I need to get back home."
"No, Hawk, please." Hawkeye heard the desperation in those three words, and it killed him. B.J. had become much too dependent on him over the last few weeks, Hawkeye believed, and the longer he stayed, the harder it was going to be to go.
"Yeah," he nodded, trying to be firm. "I think so, Beej."
Hawkeye watched as B.J. swiped a tear from his cheek. "Maybe..." B.J. began, hesitated, then tried again. "Maybe I'd better tell you something, then."
"Tell me what?" He leaned forward, reached out and touched B.J.'s knee.
B.J. seemed to take a long time to craft what he wanted to say. He took a swig of beer and then began to talk. "I feel like I have a second chance at life, Hawkeye, and that really changes a man. You know, priorities change, you find out what really matters, you get a new perspective. You think more. I had a lot of time to think." He'd been gazing off into the street, but now he shifted his eyes to look directly into Hawk's. "I heard things when I was in that coma."
Hawkeye nodded. "You told me. You heard me."
"I heard Peg, too. She would talk to me, too. But it wasn't Peg who brought me back, who made me feel like I needed to survive this. It was you."
Hawkeye waved a hand absently. "Beej, I'm sure everything that everyone said to you helped you in some way—"
"Hawkeye Pierce, it took a near-fatal motorcycle accident and a coma for me to realize that I'm in love with you."
Hawkeye, stunned, could say nothing. He only stared at his friend, his heart racing, his mouth open.
B.J. chuckled at the lack of a response. "That was really hard for me to say. Could you at least acknowledge it?"
Hawkeye's expression gradually melted into a sweet, almost shy smile. "Beej, I think you already know that I've felt that way for a long time. Don't you?"
"Well, no. But I suspected, I guess. I hoped." B.J. shifted in his chair. He wasn't very mobile at the best of times, and his leg had already stiffened up, so after a few seconds, he said, "Could you come here? I want to give you a kiss."
Hawkeye said, "Not if I give you one first," and moved gingerly into his friend's embrace. The kiss they shared was soft and quick. But Hawkeye thought it may have been the sweetest one he'd ever tasted.
He held on to B.J. for a beat, then broke the contact and resumed his perch on the step. He was suddenly aware of the birds chirping and the clear California breeze. It was a beautiful day, and this was a moment he wanted to lock away in his memory forever.
"I'm not sure," B.J. continued, "where this leaves us. Except that I really don't want you to go back home."
"Beej, you're still a married man, and your wife's been amazing through this whole ordeal, and your little girl needs you. This leaves us, I think, where we were before. Best friends." It was hard for him to say it—almost unbearable—but he couldn't imagine any other scenario. "And I still need to get back home to my practice, to my own patients... the ones who will actually pay me, unlike you." He put on a teasing smile, but B.J. wasn't going to be manipulated out of this conversation that easily.
"So, wait. I sit here and confess to you that I love you. That I'm head over heels in love with you. And you tell me you feel the same way. But then... that's it? That's where it ends?"
Hawkeye's stomach was twisting in knots. He wanted B.J. more than anything in the world, but how could he do that to Peg? To sweet little Erin? He'd gotten to know them both very well in the weeks he'd spent with them. He couldn't imagine taking their husband and dad away from them.
With a nod, he said, "Yes, that's where it ends. You made a commitment to your wife. I won't let you break that vow for me." He paused and thought about all the times in the Swamp when he'd lie sleepless in his cot, listening to B.J.'s breathing, watching his sleeping form. "It's funny. If you'd asked me back in Korea, the answer might have been different. Probably would have been. Peg and Erin were just names to me then; they didn't seem like real people. But now I know them, and I care about your family, and you're lucky to have them. As much as I love you—and I do love you—I have to let you get back to your life. The one you've built for yourself. The one you deserve."
Another couple of tears spilled from B.J.'s eyes, but to his credit, he argued no further. Once again, he looked out into the street, or across the street, avoiding Hawkeye's stare. "Will you come back to visit?" he finally asked.
"Absolutely. If you want me to, if Peg doesn't mind, of course I will. And you can always come visit me in Crabapple Cove."
B.J. nodded, still averting his eyes, looking out at nothing or everything. "I don't know how I would have managed to survive these last few weeks without you here. I don't think I would have. Simple as that." Finally, his eyes came back to Hawk's. "Thank you."
"Just promise me you'll never get on a motorcycle again," Hawkeye smiled at him, reaching out and taking his hand.
"That's a promise."
They sat there on the porch, holding hands in comfortable silence, for a long time.