Note: This story fits in an arc I am working on concerning my version of events following Comrades in Arms Part 1 and 2
Disclaimer: I don't own BJ or Hawkeye. Although I have Mike Ferrell! How cool is that? Yeah we totally had a moment at this Chamber of Commerce thingy I went to for my job. I know, be jealous. Okay, so aside from me owning that one spectacular moment with Mike in my heart, everything else belongs to 20th Century Fox and whomever else had a stake in it legally.
It's Terrible When You Can't Trust a War
By: OneSongKatie
Hawkeye sighed. When had everything about his life become so incredibly complicated?
This is supposed to be a war! He thought, incredulously. A world of extremes! Black and white; life and death; love and war; with or without mayonnaise! Not all this gray area with no definitive boundaries or rules.
It's a terrible thing when you can't even trust a war, Hawk decided, disdainfully.
Last night, his life had been simple—not because it was in fact, simple, but because he pretended it was.
At this point, he could barely recall his full name, let alone what kind of explanation to
give BJ. All this discussing things and being honest?
Not such an easy feat these days.
He and BJ were sitting on opposite cots in the Swamp. BJ had, to his credit, waited to corner him until after Charles finally fell asleep a few minutes earlier. So, to the tune of Charles' orchestral snoring, BJ had confronted him.
He should have seen this coming.
It seemed to Hawkeye that it would actually be better if he could talk to BJ about the whole situation. God knows he could use an ally.
Now what the hell was he supposed to say?
Speaking of Hawk's best friend, Captain BJ Hunnicutt was staring expectantly back at him this very moment.
"Well?" BJ asked again, not unkindly. "Aren't you going to tell me what's going on?" When Hawk didn't reply he spoke again, "Look, I know half of it already. You haven't slept in your own bed in a month."
BJ smiled at him knowingly before continuing.
"You slip in just before dawn and then go to breakfast with Charles and me without so much as a 'Oh, hi, I've been out all night selling the Chinese our leftover meatloaf, and surprise! They've been making artillery out of it!'"
BJ's voice became serious. "I'm supposed to be your friend, Hawk. Your friend. Remember? And you can't even bother to tell me you're involved in black market organ trading, or running a major penicillin smuggling ring, or what her name is."
BJ emphasized this last option, looking pointedly at Hawkeye.
Hawkeye continued to study the floor, saying honestly "It's not that I don't want to talk to you Beej. I just don't know quite what to say. Everything is…complicated."
Hawkeye didn't continue. BJ was silent for a moment.
When BJ finally started speaking seriously again, Hawkeye was already lost in his own thoughts.
He should have known BJ would notice. He was only kidding himself thinking this…whatever…could go on undiscovered.
Hawk paused, for the first time wondering exactly why it was so hard for him to tell BJ about...
About what, exactly? What were he and Margaret doing?
Well, besides the obvious answer, anyway.
Hawk honestly did not know what in hell the precise nature of their relationship was. But that wasn't necessarily the real problem here. If he talked to BJ about…this, then he'd have to, for the first time, look at things logically.
And that was something he couldn't do.
Well, anyway, it was about as possible for him to do as stop all together.
And that was an entirely different problem.
He was vaguely aware of some sensible part of himself appreciating how completely irrational, wholly selfish, and—if he was totally honest with himself—immature—his behavior was. But that same part of him also knew resoundingly, that he could not stop.
Without realizing, Hawkeye sighed loudly.
BJ paused, then with a hint of irony continued, "Am I boring you? Should I maybe, do a quick soft-shoe number to lighten the mood? Perhaps sing something more up-tempo?"
Hawk smiled weakly, "Sorry BJ. I'm listening."
BJ looked at him skeptically, saying softly, "Well, I was done, I think. My point is that I'm worried about you! You stay out all night. You're quiet in surgery—you're quiet most of the time for that matter. I mean, you've wise-cracked less in these last few weeks than that time you had laryngitis and couldn't speak for a month and a half! You barely bother Charles anymore. You don't even give Margaret a hard time!" Hawkeye looked up sharply at this.
BJ stopped abruptly, his face gardually changing from shock to realization, and finally, disbelief.. He began to say something, but halted again.
Hawkeye sat unmoving on his cot, bracing himself and waiting for BJ to tell him he was crazy, give him a hard time, yell at him—anything other than what happened next.
"Listen," BJ began, with—Hawkeye noted incredulously—the slightest suggestion of amusement in his voice.
Hawkeye thought for a moment his friend's eyes were twinkling.
Then he decided that sounded more than a little crazy.
BJ finally spoke, gradually, "You would tell me if you were in danger, or dying or
something, right?" Hawk nodded slowly, a puzzled expression on his face.
"Well, I guess I'll just come off it then." BJ said evenly, " But, if I find out you've been having too much fun without me…" He trailed off looking at Hawkeye expectantly.
Hawkeye interrupted, sounding more than a little relieved, "Don't worry, pal, I'd never cheat on you." He smiled faintly.
BJ grinned widely at this. The grin morphed widened slowly into a wry smirk. He noted, "Been quite a month, hasn't it?"
Hawk looked at him oddly, saying seriously "You have absolutely no idea."
Hawkeye met BJ's eyes, wanting to say something. Preempting him, BJ yawned loudly. And, after saying an impassionate goodnight, he merely rolled over on his cot. Winchester continued to snore loudly.
Hawkeye sat unmoving, more than a little stunned.
He blinked. Had that just happened?
He slowly looked around the tent in the darkness, disbelieving. Then shaking his head with a grin, reclined on his cot. Good ol' BJ.
Some time later, Hawk was still wide awake. He waited.
Hawk was sure Winchester's snoring had reached new octaves in the last few minutes. As far as Hawkeye could tell the major was doing Carl Orff's Carmina Barana entirely through his nose. It was actually quite amazing. Now, he could almost swear it was approaching the third movement.
"That's my cue," Hawkeye thought, smiling in the darkness, and quietly getting up to leave.
As he reached the door of the tent, he heard BJ's barely audible voice, "Say hi to Hot Lips for me."
Smiling widely, Hawkeye pushed the door open and stepped into the cool night air. Good ol' BJ.