Disclaimer: I don't own MASH. If I did, it would've been even slashier than it already was, if that's humanly possible.
Challenge: Response to Lisa's ABC challenge: Write a fic for every letter of the alphabet. I kind of twisted it a little, and I am/did write 26 fics, but they're all connected and could be chapters in one fic. That's probably how I'm going to post it on FFN. I call it the Alphaverse. I'm also using different character POVs for each letter. Well, not EACH letter, but no two in a row are the same at least.
A/N: A, anger. Hawkeye's POV. On a side note, this idea has been a plot bunny in my head for awhile now. I'm glad I finally get a chance to write it out.
Anger
The only thing that registers is the look on his face. It's a look of anger. I don't wait for him to say anything. Instead, I leave. I'm dimly aware of him saying something, but the voice inside my head is stronger, and it's saying leave and get a strong drink. I head to Rosie's.
It feels strange to be sitting at a table drinking alone. B.J. is usually with me, and before him, Trapper was usually with me. Even Rosie has noticed. "Hello Hawkeye. Are you alone tonight?"
"Yeah," I mutter. "Um, I want a glass of the strongest stuff you've got."
Rosie looks at me appraisingly. "Yeah, you look like you need it," she says shrewdly. "Coming right up."
"Thanks Rosie," I reply. While I wait for the alcohol, I think about what led up to this moment.
It had been a difficult day today, only six patients in post-op but one of B.J.'s, a kid named Jacobs, was in pretty bad shape. By three o'clock , Beej was starting to think that he'd missed a bleeder, and no matter what anyone said, he beat himself up over it.
"I can't even go in to fix it because he has an infection already, on top of everything else!" B.J. fumed in the Mess Tent.
"Look son, we're not all perfect. We all make mistakes once in awhile. You'll get this thing with Jacobs fixed and everything will be fine," Colonel Potter consoled.
B.J. sighed impatiently. "I shouldn't have to fix it in the first place!"
I kept quiet. I'd already attempted to tell Beej it wasn't his fault, and he hadn't listened. He was too intent on being angry with himself.
After failed attempts by both Margaret and Charles to convince B.J. it wasn't his fault (though I'm not convinced Charles' was all that sincere) he stood up. "I'm going back to the Swamp," he said. "Hawkeye, are you coming?"
"Yeah," I said, and followed him out of the Mess Tent.
I had been planning to tell B.J. the truth about something, but I was having second thoughts because of Jacobs. B.J. was distracted and irritable. I had wanted to tell him when he would be most likely to have a positive reaction. So I kept quiet while B.J. and I drank our way through half a pitcher of gin. I noticed that Beej seemed to be preventing himself from downing the whole thing himself. I was glad, because as I'd learned after Radar left, he could become prone to violence while drunk.
It was later, nearly seven, when I finally told him. And then there had been the anger, directed not at himself but at me.
All I can say is, I'm glad I only told him half of it.
Rosie comes back with my glass, sets it down. I take a sip, then stifle the urge to cough. It's worse than the stuff in the still. I only hope it does some good.