Other Worlds

(Author's Note: Alternate universes. We begin in the present day, but Hawkeye and B.J. are the same ages they are in the series.)

Present Day

Hawkeye saw the accident in slow motion. He realized that sounded like a cliché, but it was an accurate description. A few cars ahead of him, a red Mazda swerved to avoid something in the road—tree limb, maybe—and crashed right into a white Pontiac, and Hawkeye watched the whole thing unfold frame by frame with morbid fascination. There was nothing he could do except pull over after the fact and find out if anyone was injured. He put his hazards on and directed a couple of cars around the wreckage, then he ran to the Pontiac, which looked much worse off than the Mazda. In fact, the driver of the Mazda was getting out of her car, looking upset but not physically hurt, and there was nobody in her passenger seat.

"You all right?" he called over to her, but he almost wasn't paying attention when she said yes, she was. He was focused on the Pontiac and the driver inside, who had blood on his face and looked to be unconscious.

All multitasking efficiency, Hawkeye pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and hit 911 at the same time he opened the car door and surveyed the situation. The man was just now coming to, and fortunately there was nobody else in his car. "Car accident," he said into the phone, "Bower Road, between Sycamore and Main. One injured person, cuts on his face, uh…" he did a quick assessment of the man's condition. "Shit, he's trapped in here. Could be some serious damage to the legs. I'm Dr. Pierce, from Boston General."

"Yes, doctor, we'll dispatch an ambulance right away."

He put away his phone and carefully examined the driver's head. "Can you hear me?"

A faint "Yes" from the man.

"Don't try to move. Help's on the way. I'm a doctor—I'll go along with you to the hospital. Caught this show from the beginning, so I gotta see how it ends." He gave a smile that he hoped was reassuring.

"My legs? I can't feel them."

Hawkeye was afraid of that. "Don't worry. We'll get you to the hospital and into surgery as quickly as possible. Oh, did I mention that I'm a surgeon? And a damn good one, too. You'll be fine."

The man closed his eyes. "Weird," he whispered. "I'm a surgeon too. Visiting from San Francisco."

Hawkeye heard the sirens of the ambulance approaching and thought, Thank God. "Hear that? They're coming. We'll get you fixed up in no time. You probably don't feel lucky right now, but believe me, you are. Your little mishap just happened to be witnessed by the best surgeon in Boston."

"Finest kind," the man murmured, and Hawkeye froze, squinting at him.

"What's that?" Did I just hear that? He looked closely at the man's light brown hair, the boyish features, but this was not a familiar face. And anyway, he'd said he was from San Francisco. "Do I know you?"

Mr. San Fran did not respond, and Hawkeye wrote it off as an odd, rather spooky coincidence. The ambulance pulled up to the scene then, and Hawk reluctantly relinquished control of the situation, assisting where he could as the paramedics took over.

It took some time, but they extracted the driver from the wreckage, and finally they headed off to Boston General, sirens blaring.

The surgery didn't take long at all. The man's legs had looked worse than they actually were. There was some nerve damage, but it wouldn't be permanent. The San Francisco doctor would not be paralyzed, just incapacitated for a while. He came out of the accident much better off than Hawkeye would have predicted.

He paid the man a visit late that night and found him in pretty good spirits, considering everything that had happened to him.

"Routine surgery, just lacerations, temporary nerve damage. You'll be up and walking before you know it," he said, smiling down at the man's strikingly handsome face. Now, with the crisis past, he could take the time to really look at the guy, get to know him as a person and not some patient he needed to fix. He extended his hand. "Hawkeye Pierce."

"B.J. Hunnicutt," the patient-slash-doctor replied, and winked. Hawkeye, honest to God, nearly swooned. This guy—despite being injured and drugged up and probably feeling like shit—was adorable.

He felt a strong sense of déjà vu. Have we met before? He could not seem to shake that feeling.

B.J. was maybe thinking exactly the same thing, because he was gazing intently back at him. The scrutiny made Hawkeye feel pleasantly warm.

"You're from San Francisco?"

"Yeah. Well, a suburb. Mill Valley."

"What brought you to Boston?"

"A wedding. Friend of mine from college finally tied the knot." He glanced down at his injured legs. "My first trip to the East Coast. You guys should be more hospitable to your guests."

"You'll be good as new in no time," Hawkeye assured him. Impulsively, he reached out and ran a hand through B.J.'s soft hair. He studied the wholesome features, thinking, Who are you? Where do I know you from? "I've never been to California, you've never been East before, and yet I swear we've met." He stroked the other man's cheek with the back of his hand… a tender, light touch. The physical contact felt good—felt right. B.J. didn't seem at all taken aback; he only watched Hawkeye with interest, a mixture of affection and understanding in his expression. The hospital PA paged a Dr. Winchester to the ICU, but Hawkeye barely registered the announcement. He was becoming a little mesmerized… staring, staring into luminous blue eyes. "I feel like I know you." He moved his hand from B.J.'s face and gently placed it on his chest. He could feel the thump-thump of the man's heart under his palm. "I feel like…"

"What?" B.J. reached for the hand that rested on his chest and took hold of it.

"Like I've known you forever."

B.J. gave a single purposeful nod, "Yes. That's right." Then he looked suddenly hesitant, as if he wasn't sure he should—or could—elaborate. But after a pause, he went on, "Promise me you won't think I'm crazy, OK?"

Hawkeye blinked. He had no idea what to expect. Crazy pretty much described this entire day. "OK," he said.

"What's going on here… between us? It's more than just a feeling. It's real. We knew each other before. In another world."

Hawkeye surprised himself by not laughing or scoffing or even dismissing the words. He was completely drawn in, primed to believe, nearly persuaded by the combination of the intense vibes he was feeling between the two of them and the sincerity in B.J.'s eyes. "We did?"

"We met in a bad place, under bad circumstances. But once we found each other, we were OK."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

In spite of himself, Hawk felt tears stinging his eyes. The whole conversation—this whole situation—seemed surreal. Without knowing he was going to do it, he leaned down and kissed B.J., softly and quickly, on the lips. His actions seemed out of his control. "What happened to us," he asked, "in that other world?"

A sweet smile, a look that seemed to say, You know. "We lived happily ever after."

Hawkeye wasn't sure he truly believed the "other worlds" theory, but he did know he'd never had such an immediate connection with anyone before in his life, had never felt so instantly devoted to someone. And their relationship only grew exponentially, wildly out of control, with each passing day.

Weeks later, after B.J.'s injuries were fully healed, Hawkeye took him into his bed for the first time. As a full moon shone brightly outside the window, they made love, and that was when Hawkeye finally knew, finally believed. He'd been in this man's arms before. It felt familiar. It felt safe.

It felt like home.

Sometime in the Future

Eighteen-year-old Hawkeye Pierce carried a heavy cardboard box down the hallway to his dorm room. When he stepped inside, he saw that his roommate was already there, unpacking a large duffle bag on the bed farthest from the door. The kid looked up and smiled, and Hawkeye's heart did a little twirl. Killer smile. Fresh face. Honest eyes.

Hawkeye put his box down and they shook hands. "Hey, roomie. Ben Pierce," he said, "but you can call me Hawkeye."

"B.J. Hunnicutt," the kid replied.

"Nice meeting you." Hawk glanced behind the guy and gestured, "Happy to see we've already got the single most important item for our room…the mini-fridge."

B.J. laughed, "Yeah, and I've already stocked it with the most important staple: a six-pack. Here, let me get you a beer, Hawkeye, and we can toast our new friendship." He reached behind him, got a couple cans of beer out of the fridge, and handed one to his roomie.

Hawkeye didn't know much about beers yet, but he knew his dad's favorite brand when he saw it. "Ah, Heineken," he said, "excellent choice."

"Finest kind," B.J. said, and a startled Hawkeye flicked his gaze to his roommate's face. B.J. raised his can in a salute, a gleam in his eye.

And Hawkeye smiled.