A/N: Hi. I'm jojospn. Those who have read my fanfic recognize me, and know that I have written mostly for the CW show Supernatural. In fact, of all my fifty plus stories, each one has been for that show. But after hearing of the passing of actor Wayne Rogers, I started watching another of my favourites, M*A*S*H. I had forgotten how this show was not only funny (in part due to the brilliant acting of Alan Alda, but the entire ensemble was equally fantastic) but poignant, heartbreaking, and insightful. War is hell, and somehow the show managed to keep that message perfectly clear while maintaining its comedy. And so, I decided to try something a little different by writing for M*A*S*H. I really hope my fellow members of the SPNFamily read this instead of skipping by, but I get it if this show wasn't your thing. Anyway, sorry for rambling on. I hope you enjoy! This is set after the series finale, "Goodbye, Farewell, and Amen." Warning, this is very dark, so if you have not seen this episode, there is some very disturbing content.
Dancing in the Rain
He'd always loved summer rainstorms.
His mother would sometimes take him for walks along the coast during rainstorms, wandering along the Maine coastline and watching as the waves crashed along the rocks, its foamy spray sometimes drenching them should they walk a little too close to the edge. On warm days they'd walk in their bathing suits, laughing and dancing along the beach as the torrential rains drenched them. Other times she would pull him close, speaking to him gently: "Look, Ben! See that wave?" And little Ben, never Hawkeye to his mother, would run into the ocean, ready to dive in, while his mom warned him between her laughter to be careful.
Hawkeye never liked the beach on rainy days once his mother died; and Dad understood, generally avoiding trips to the shore altogether. The hurt, the memories, were too much for the ten-year-old. And so walks in the rain were replaced with golfing expeditions, hanging out with his father at his practice. Gradually life for both Pierce men returned to normal.
And then he was drafted. And then Henry had died… on his way home, for godssake! He was just hours away from seeing Lorraine and the kids when the plane plummeted into the Sea of Japan. And then Trapper had left, without even so much as a goodbye. Of course, there was always BJ. On many nights, when his best friend was asleep, Hawkeye would lie awake, grateful that he'd found a friend in BJ Hunnicutt; unlike Trapper, who was more of a carbon copy of him with his antics, Beej had been more quiet, the binding which held him together when the war had gotten too much to handle. Of course, it was usually BJ who had confessed how it was Hawkeye who had been the strong one for him; little did the Californian realize just how vital his friendship was. It kept him sane during the tough times; had kept him from losing it with grief after Henry's death. And, of course, there was always the OR. Somehow, even after the months of despair, filth, blood, a scalpel in his hand always seemed to control the anger he felt, the disgust at seeing boys as young as seventeen lying on the table, many too young to even shave.
And then there was the bus.
Not even BJ could help this time, and it had taken Sidney a while, too. Hawkeye would close his eyes and see that young mother, shaking with grief as she smothered her own child. He'd never meant for her to kill it; he was a doctor, damn it. He was supposed to save lives, not take them. Even now, back with his father in good ole' Crabapple Cove, Hawkeye would lie awake at night, trying in vain to sleep, only to see that look of horror on the child's mother, see the limp little hand as the baby grew limp and lifeless in her arms. When at last he did succumb to exhaustion, nightmares of crashing planes and smothered infants would haunt him until he woke up screaming. And his father would come in, holding him as if he were a child, until the tremors subsided and he once more fell into a restless sleep.
It was late August before Hawkeye finally returned to the shore.
The clouds were dark and thick with rain, and he had almost turned back. By now memories of his mother were no longer painful, but bittersweet; the smell of her perfume would make him smile instead of weep. The sight of her photograph no longer filled his heart with anguish; but the thought of wandering the beaches as he had long ago with his mother overwhelmed him. He wished more than anything that BJ was with him, or Trapper, despite the sting and resentment his still felt following his former best friend's sudden departure. Hell, even Radar, with that childish teddy bear, would be a comfort. For as much as he loved his father with all his heart, had missed him immensely during the war, had grieved when Daniel Pierce had believed him to be dead, he knew the older man would never truly understand.
The first drops of rain began to fall as Hawkeye stood at the edge of the shore, listening to the roar of the waves and howl of the intensifying wind. He stood, transfixed, as the light shower became a downpour, drenching him in seconds. And yet, instead of the feeling of dread, a feeling of relief washed over him, the burdens of Korea at least temporarily washed from him. He closed his eyes, head tilted skyward as he felt the warm drops wash over him, as if cleansing him. And he began to smile, slightly at first, and then a laugh as he wandered along the beach, enjoying the sensation of the mud between his bare feet and the smell of salt water as he wandered into the surf, its spray refreshingly cool. He remained there until the last drops of rain dried and the sun peaked through the dark clouds, its rays casting a brilliant sparkle on the still crashing waves. Slowly, Hawkeye walked away, back to his father and life as the country doctor he had dreamed of being back at the 4077th. But as he walked, he felt a sense of peace for the first time since leaving Korea, almost as if his mother's presence had somehow come to him on that shoreline, holding him close and pointing out the beauty of the ocean. And while the former Captain Benjamin Franklin Pierce would suffer from the occasional nightmare for the remainder of his life, he would always look back at the day his mother reminded him that sometimes all you had to do was learn to dance in the rain.