Title: Regrets
Author: Lisa M
Pairing: BJ/Hawkeye; BJ/Peg - sort of
Rating: Sergeant
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything. Don't sue … no money.
Archive: Anywhere, just let me know.
Feedback: Would be appreciated - good or bad.
Spoilers: None.
Summary: BJ has many regrets.
A/N: Answer to the 10-min. fic challenge prompt of 'regret'. Warning: Character(s) death. Very sad and angsty. If you don't like that kind of thing, don't read.
"Dad?" Erin's soft voice penetrates the door to my study. It is followed by a tentative knock. "Is it okay if I come in?"
"Sure, honey." I quickly wipe the back of my hand across my eyes. My daughter, though she already knows, doesn't need to actually see her father crying. "Come on in."
The door opens, and there she stands. A mirror image of Peg. The only thing she got from me is the desire to practice medicine. I guess there are worse things than that.
"Am I interrupting you? I can come back later."
"No sweetie. I'm not busy. What's up?"
Erin, now sixteen, approaches my desk. I notice she has her hands behind her back.
"Can I ask you a question, daddy?"
"Of course! You know you can ask me anything." Then why am I all of a sudden feeling slightly sick? Claustrophobic. Why are the walls closing in on me?
"About Korea."
"We've talked about Korea hundreds of times, honey."
"About these."
She holds out one closed hand and I can see the dull silver chains dangling out from between her clenched fingers. Two sets of dog tags are gently placed on the desk in front of me. The sound of them - metal clinking against metal - pulls the walls in tighter around me.
"Erin, I …"
"And these."
The other hand comes forward and in it she holds two small laminated cards. I know what they are before she even lays them down next to the tags. Prayer cards. The kind that you receive at someone's wake.
"Daddy, I'm sixteen years old."
"I know that."
"I need to know."
"I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about it."
"Mom's been gone for ten years now. And he's been gone for twelve. Please, daddy. I want to understand why those dog tags are always under your pillow instead of mom's ring. I need to know why his card is in your wallet, and mom's isn't."
The only two people in the world I've ever been in love with - died exactly two years apart. To the very day. Today. One, by his own hand. The other, in a fluke car accident. At least, that's what I was told.
I hadn't spoken to him in months. I was busy with work. With Erin and school. The days slipped by without me even noticing. I got the call from Daniel moments after he found him. A part of me died that day too. The sorrow I felt at his loss was overwhelming. It enveloped me completely. By the time of Peg's death, I was only a shell of a man. My heart, my soul - they had abandoned me the second I heard the words 'with his own scalpel'.
When I gave my love to him, I gave it in its entirety. There wasn't any left for Peg. That is why his card is in my wallet and not hers. Why his tags, entwined with mine, are kept under my pillow instead of her wedding ring.
The only love I have left in the whole of me is for Erin.
But, how am I supposed to explain this to my daughter? I glance at her - this beautiful, intelligent, almost woman, yet still a child - and wonder how I could have done this to her? What kind of person am I? Why did I allow myself to fall in love with him?
"I can't."
I watch as her eyes fill with tears. She turns and runs from my office. My head drops into my hands and I begin to weep.
One more regret.
