I own only the little tune Hawkeye sang (lol) :) please R&R if you can!
"Beej..." Hawkeye's voice rasped softly, barely audible.
BJ looked down at the man he was holding, Hawkeye's head cradled in his hands, torso and legs folded against his lap.
"Yeah, Hawk?" BJ asked in his gentle voice. Ever since Hawkeye's diagnosis, he had unconsciously taken on this new tone- it was softer, quieter, kinder. It was soothing and warm because he knew that's what Hawkeye needed. So, BJ would cluck and fuss and soothe, he would hug and hold and be careful not to jostle his best friends fragile form and all the IV tubes attached to him. He would rock him to sleep at night when the vicious malaria meds kept him awake in pain. He would reassure and whisper words of infinite love and adoration to Hawkeye's fever wracked mind. He had become the rock of his best friends fragile life.
"I never thought you'd be spooning me." Hawkeye chuckled, an air of a smile on his pale face. Even with the oxygen tubes taped up around his nose, BJ would recognize that smile a mile away.
BJ grinned and chuckled, "Neither did I. Why, am I that ugly to look at?"
Hawkeye laughed softly, hands reaching up to brush against his brothers cheeks. "Absolutely hideous."
The blonde doctor smiled, swaying Hawkeye gently. "I dunno 'bout that, chuckles. You may be the lady killer around here, but I got Peg and a few unnamed high school sweethearts to back me up." He reminisced, hands firm on his friend's shoulders. When he noticed that Hawkeye had grown quiet, he looked down at his friend. "What do you say to that, Mr. Cynical?" He joked gently, but Hawkeye had already fallen back into the oblivion between sleep and unconsciousness.
He sighed, rubbing his face with his hand tiredly. He'd been up until 4 this morning monitoring his buddy's vitals, which just didn't seem to wanna stay stable. The sun was slowly beginning to rise now, casting long stretches of bright red across the hills.
Margaret walked into the swamp without even hesitating to knock. Since Hawkeye had come back from the aide station with the awful sickness, everyone was too worried to care.
"Hey," She whispered, careful not to wake the sleeping captain as she strode up to BJ, "how's he doing?"
BJ gave her a half-hearted smile, shifting his friend carefully back into bed. "You don't have to whisper, Margaret, I doubt a Chinese firing squad could wake him up now." He quipped, pouring himself a drink from the still.
The major's face fell and she rest a lily white hand on the blonde doctor's shoulder. "He'll be alright… I'd tell you to get some sleep but word from icorps is that we have wounded on the way." She murmured sadly, as her tone always was when reporting casualties.
BJ's face paled and he groaned, laying down on his own cot and hiding his exhausted face in his hands. "Why don't we just pause the war?"
The head nurse gave him a gentle smile, keeping his gaze while resting an affectionate hand on Hawkeye's forehead. "Can't say you're the first person around here to ask that." She replied, brushing strands of black hair away from the sick doctor's face, ashen and sleek with sweat.
"Attention all personnel, incoming wounded! This one's a doozy, folks!" Klinger's voice rang out over the PA, and both Margaret and BJ's eyes widened.
"Speak of the devil," BJ moaned, forcing himself up out of bed and shrugging on his white lab coat.
Margaret gave him one last sympathetic glance before darting out to conduct her nurses. BJ paused, leaning over to squeeze his best friend's hand and checking his chart one last time. "Don't go anywhere, Hawk, I'll be right back." He assured softly, "Kelleye will be in soon to keep you company."
With that, the blonde doctor tore himself away from his companion and headed out to face the day's horrors.
Boy, was Klinger right about this one, BJ thought to himself as he operated on a young man with shrapnel fragments in his chest, we really got it bad this time.
"Clamp," he muttered to the nurse, who handed it to him swiftly.
"What's the skinny on Pierce?" Colonel asked from across the room, stitching sutures as he talked.
"Still at 104.1 and fluctuating," BJ answered, "his fluid intake was up around 2 this morning."
"Shit," Colonel hissed, mumbling for an instrument to Margaret, "any longer and I'll have to call in a temporary replacement from the 8063rd. Charles here has been takin' the bull by the horns."
"A great understatement, Colonel!" Charles declared from his table, "I'll have you know that my feet have not left the swine of these disgusting floors since yesterday morning! If I force my eyelids open any longer they'll fall off."
"When did the guy from the aide station say this damn thing was supposed to clear up, anyway?" BJ demanded, annoyed and tired all at once. Everyone in camp, himself included, had little to no experience with malaria. It was only found in the trenches by some of the Northern swamp areas, and that was far enough away so that they hadn't dealt with any cases yet. But when Hawkeye had gone up to Battalion Aid, the sickness had decided to hitch a ride. Apparently, after speaking with an assistant medic from the field, it wasn't all that uncommon and he had experienced it before. Though BJ knew his best friend would recover, as the 97% of people with the disease do, he was still terrified for Hawkeye and feared the unknown.
"A week, maybe more depending on the case." Colonel sighed, preparing to close on the South Korean soldier.
"A week?! Colonel, my spine and I beg you for a reprieve from this unending nightmare!" Charles groaned.
BJ clenched his teeth from behind his mask, ticked off at the Bostonian's complaining. He hadn't sat at Hawkeye's bedside these past two days and watched him suffer. "Why don't you can it, Charles, Hawk's the one in a real nightmare." He bit.
Charles's eyes narrowed at his sharp reply. "What crawled into your boots, Hunnicutt? I see no reason for you to get too deeply invested in this. The penicillin hasn't been delayed… yet."
"Invested?!" BJ snapped, "He's like a little brother to me, damn straight I'm invested!"
"Enough, boys! I'll call in a native specialist who deals with this kind of stuff more often later to come look at Pierce. Until then, Winchester's off the hook. Klinger, get two surgeons down here from wherever you can until this whole mess gets sorted out."
"Right away, sir!" Klinger answered, darting out the OR, "I'll get you only the best!"
BJ said a silent prayer of relief that Colonel had given him time off. Two surgeons to take the place of he and Charles until Hawkeye got better, a chance to sit at his best friend's bedside and stay there instead of tent-hopping to make impromptu post-op calls and deal with wounded.
"Close for me," he murmured to Bigelow, handing her the needle and thread.
"Yes, doctor." She nodded, and BJ headed to post-op to take off his scrubs. He wearily collapsed onto the wooden bench, shrugging off his scrubs and washing his hands.
This whole ordeal in itself had just zapped the strength out of him. He had always felt protective of Hawkeye, since the moment they met at Kimpo and traded quips. But as time went on and the horrors of war seeped into his veins, their friendship had developed into an unbreakable bond of familial love that would last long after Korea. Everybody associated one with the other- it was always 'Hawk and Beej' or 'Beej and Hawk'. Even Peg sent Hawkeye well wishes in almost every letter she wrote to her husband, always telling him the same thing. "Take care of my BJ."
They looked after each other, Hawkeye comforting BJ many a nights when homesickness settled deep in his soul like a painful anchor, BJ holding Hawkeye when he'd outdone himself in a late night drinking binge to escape the awful reality… Down here in this hell, we're all we've got, BJ thought.
"Captain!" A voice broke him from his silence, and Klinger stood anxiously at the doorway with wide eyes, "It's Doctor Pierce, sir, he's climbing up the water tower!"
BJ's heart made friends with his feet as he shot up from the bench. "WHAT?!" He cried, sprinting out the doorway.
A small crowd had already gathered around the tower, trying to get him down but not quite sure how. He was staggering already, climbing halfway up the rickety ladder, and anyone who tried to reach him would surely push him off.
"Hawkeye!" BJ yelled, running up to him. He looked drunk, in all honestly, his body swaying and legs shaking. Delerium. He has no idea what the hell he's doing, BJ thought, terrified. The raven haired surgeon's arms swung haphazardly as he reached for the next rung, and if one listened well they could hear he was speaking.
"Come, now, dear take me up higher and higher, show all them reds that their stars are on fire!" Hawkeye sang giddily, shouting the last part as he managed to flop himself onto the deck.
"Oh my!" Father gasped from behind them, peering up at the man in concern.
BJ's eyes were frantic and he dashed towards the latter as soon as he saw his friend up on top.
"Hi, Margaret!" Hawkeye called from above, words slurred as he spotted the head nurse in the crowd, "Did you miss me?"
Everybody started murmuring concerned and confused whispers, Margaret staring back at the fever-plagued surgeon with fearful eyes, desperately begging him to get down.
"... Wha?" Hawkeye struggled to speak, grasping the railing for support, "D-don't cry, Margaret, I'm right here! W-wait, maybe you can't see me too well… since there's two of you… Oh, to hell with it, I'll just come on down!" He shouted happily, and everyone screamed when the surgeon prepared to fling himself over the railing.
"Jesus, Hawk!" BJ screamed, and lunged to wrap an arm around his waist, pulling him back onto the deck, his friend slack against him. Did that really just happen? He thought dazedly, panting for breath against the dark hair. God, it did…
He hoisted Hawkeye over his shoulders, and his muscles screamed at the extra weight on top of their aching exhaustion. BJ ignored it, though, and carefully climbed down the ladder whilst carrying Hawkeye, practically throwing him into the waiting arms of the colonel and several nurses as he stepped down.
"How the hell did he get out of bed?" The CO demanded, grasping Pierce by the arm.
BJ caught his breath and forced the remaining shock down his throat, jogging over to his friend. "Hawk!" He cried, cupping his face only to find out that it was hotter than the summer day they were cursed with, "Benjamin Franklin Pierce, don't you ever do that again! Geez, Hawk, I thought you were… I swore you were… Oh, thank God." Was all he could manage, pressing his own face into his friend's sweaty mop of hair and holding him tight. He was still shaking from the near death situation, but made himself come back together for Hawkeye's sake.
"His fever's up. Get him a cot in post op." BJ breathed, absentmindedly shushing his friend as he babbled senseless words.
"We can't, captain, it's packed with wounded! We've even had to clear out and set up shop in the supply tent because of lack of space!" A nurse piped up.
BJ closed his eyes in frustration, sighing. "Fine, then I'll need two bottles of saline concentrated solution and penecilin set up in the swamp."
"Right away," Margaret nodded, running off to gather the equipment.
"I'll help you get him to bed, son," Colonel said, looping one of Hawkeye's arms around his own shoulders while BJ supported the other half of his friend, who was sagging against him.
"Beej?" Hawkeye slurred, face smushed against the crook of the blonde doctor's neck.
"Yeah, Hawk?"
"Beej, do you hear the pretty girls singing?" Hawkeye asked, as if it was obvious.
BJ frowned in confusion, and the colonel chuckled at the hallucination. It was going to be a long next couple of days.