Replacement, he had said. The introductions at the camp went without incident, yet still, each time the peculiar Captain named for a hawk and an eye pointed him out, the words rang in BJ's head, echoing.
"He's Trapper's replacement."
BJ merely plastered on a smile, his insincerity evident to all that chanced a glance. They thought, of course, it was the insincerity of a man now thousands of miles from home, fighting in a war he hadn't cared about just days before. Not because the man was Trapper's replacement.
"You knew him a long time, then?" Carefully, gently, the subject was approached, three martinis in, inhibitions tossed to the wind.
Hawkeye shrugged. "Yeah. He was -- is my best friend."
"You two built the still?"
"Yeah."
BJ nodded. Unable to understand, he found himself nodding most of the time. Trapper, he thought, Trapper John.
A new nurse arrived, two days into BJ's stay. Over a man (though he had to admit, his patient seemed more corpse than man), she handed him an instrument, eyes wide at the sight before her. All the blood, everywhere, spilling over. Spilling over the table, and into her.
"Thank you, Nurse --"
"Scanvetti."
BJ nodded. Not sure if he'd ever get over the nausea, over the blood, for a moment, a tiny moment, he wondered if he should have been an accountant like his mother wanted. Bitterly, he replied to the waiting nurse. "I'm Trapper's replacement."
Hawkeye never heard.
Slowly, painstakingly slow, Hawkeye seemed to forget about the man now in Boston, taking BJ for what he was worth. Trapper became a bittersweet memory, easily rectified by a glass of gin or a date with a nurse.
"Beej?"
"Yeah?"
There was a moment of silence, of suffocating silence. "You'd leave -- you'd leave a note, at least, right?"
BJ had no idea what he was talking about. Always, each time the still was used, Hawkeye would ask this same question, and always, BJ answered him back.
"'Course I would, Hawk. Not like I'd ever forget you."
Hawkeye merely muttered at this, and once, one time, BJ swore he could hear the words "he did". He assumed this was just the alcohol's version of the words, though.
Trapper was left behind, and BJ slowly found himself, hidden beneath the khaki and green, somewhere to the left of red suspenders and just above a love letter to his wife.
"Where'd you say you're from?"
A scoff, as the new man worked to ignore the others. "Boston."
Hawkeye's eyes instantly took on a glassy look, a quality BJ had forgotten. "I know a guy in Boston. Or I did."
The new man couldn't care at all, and said so.
"I'm Hawkeye. This --" Hawkeye motioned to BJ, sitting calmly on his cot, eyes watchful. "This is Trapper's replacement."
In his defense, BJ can't think Hawkeye knew what was said.