The gentle sound of a waltz floated through the background, spiraling around. A soft breeze played upon BJ's face, bringing a beaming smile to his lips as he turned his head up to the warm sunshine. Laughing, unable to control himself, he turned his glance to the woman before him.
Peg. Sweet, darling Peggy. Her smiling face, her wispy form. Baby Erin, curled up safe and warm, secure in her mother's arms. Before he could stop himself, another boisterous laugh escaped him. Swelling with joy, BJ reached an arm out, gripping Peggy tightly around the shoulders.
"I love you, darling. I love you both, my girls, my precious girls."
Grinning, Peg lovingly lifted a hand to his face. "BJ."
Out of the corner of his eye BJ caught sight of the quickly diminishing sunlight. In the distance, the bright California sun was fading to gray, a smoky haze. Too happy to care, he ignored it.
"BJ, wake up."
A sudden burst of sound rang from his left, and he jumped. That, he could not ignore. "Peg, what -- what's going --"
Another burst. And another. Flashes of light, distant sounds of screaming, the whistling of a bullet whizzing past.
"Wake up, BJ." No longer smiling, Peg looked on soberly, voice deadly calm.
"No, no I won't. You can't -- don't leave -- I won't. I won't!" The sun was gone, the world now gray and tinted red, bombs exploding everywhere. Slowly, everything began to melt away, fade into blackness. Try as he might, BJ couldn't keep the vivid image of Peg's face alive. She disappeared from his sight and his touch before he could let out another cry.
"Look, I know you don't exactly want to, but you have to get up. It's what you're here for."
Groggily, BJ ventured to open an eye, peering out at the face directly above his. Loosening his grip around a pillow, he let out a low groan. His stomach turned violently, his mouth felt lined with cotton, and his head pounded to a beat that faintly reminded him of "If I Knew You Were Coming, I'd Have Baked A Cake". Peg's face stayed cemented in his mind's eye, as BJ slowly blinked to awareness. He stared out at the other man as memories from the day came rolling in, pulling the blankets higher around him.
"Korea, right?"
A sad grin was shot toward him as boots were fumbled for. "Right. And we've got company coming."
"And me without the good china." BJ made to sit up, automatically regretting the decision. Wincing, he leaned back down. "Oh, my head. How much did I -- did I have to drink?"
"Ever heard of Niagara Falls?"
"Yeah."
"That was the first hour." Grunting as he fastened a boot, Hawkeye glanced up at the blonde man sprawled out across his cot. "C'mon. Radar says we've got plenty of wounded due any minute, and they'll all want a table."
BJ grimaced. "What time is it?" He glanced out the netting and into the darkness that hung over the compound.
"Just after two." Taking pity, Hawkeye pulled himself to his feet and made his way across the small tent, holding a hand out. "We'll get Radar to bring you a cup of coffee, that should help."
Gingerly, BJ clasped the hand and stood up. "It'll get rid of the hangover?"
"Or kill you." A detached shrug.
"Very -- very reassuring." Slipping a pair of army fatigues on, complete with pinching boots, BJ darted a glance at his peculiar new bunkmate. "How can you be so stable? You drank twice as much as me."
"Years of practice." Hawkeye looked the other man up and down, a faint frown on his face.
Nervous, BJ held his arms out. "How do I look?"
"Like a soldier." Hawkeye turned away, bitterness in his eyes. "C'mon, I'll show you where to scrub up." Holding the door open, they quickly dashed out into the night. Beside him, BJ seemed as uncomfortable as could be, nerves tightly bound. Hawkeye was reminded of his own first night, his own uncomfortable feelings, his own nerves. "Feel like one of those wind-up toys, right? Like one of those soldiers they sold back in the early forties?"
"Yeah." BJ quickly glanced around him, taking in all he could of his new surroundings despite the lack of light. "How'd you know?"
"You look just like I felt. Spent my first week anxiously zooming around like someone wound me up." Hawkeye reached a hand out, comfortingly patting his shoulder. "You'll do just fine. It takes some getting used to, I'll admit, but --" Hawkeye cut off, stepping away slightly to wave an arm. "Radar! Hey, Radar!"
The young Corporal darted over to them, eyes swelled from lack of sleep. "Sir?"
"Get the Captain here a cup of coffee, will you? And while you're at it, get one for yourself."
"Coffee, sir?" Radar's eyes widen just slightly. "From the -- the Mess Tent?"
Hawkeye nodded, eyes on the lookout for an ambulance or bus full of wounded.
Radar shot BJ an apologetic glance. "Your funeral, sir." That said, he quickly headed over to the Mess Tent, clipboard in hand.
"The coffee's not that bad -- is it?" BJ jumped at the frantic sound of a horn behind him, catching sight of the first ambulance as it slid into the compound.
Hawkeye began to half-run, twisting through the growing chaos around him, BJ just behind. "Ever eat a mud pie as a kid?"
"Yeah."
"You'll be fine, then."
BJ grimaced once more, dropping beside the first wounded man he reached.
"Next!" Snapping his gloves off and slipping his hands into a new pair, Hawkeye chanced a look at the 4077th's newest surgeon. Nearly six hours had passed already, and BJ seemed to be holding strong. "How's it going over there?"
"I -- uh -- I'm not sure."
Frank scoffed, muttering something under his breath about degenerative doctors. Hawkeye narrowed his eyes, making a mental note to find a rodent to slip into the Major's sheets next chance he had. "Need some help there, Hunnicut?"
"Certainly not from you, Frank."
"Pierce, I'll remind you that Major Burns is your CO, and as such, deserves your utmost respect." Margaret gritted her teeth, roughly slapping an instrument into Frank's hand, ignoring his yelp of pain.
Just then, Radar burst in. "More wounded outside, and they look real bad."
Hawkeye sighed. Pointing at the newest patient to be laid before him, he moved to undo his mask. "I'll go do triage. Take this patient and wrap him in a doggie bag, I'll have him later."
Muttering for Margaret to close, Frank slipped out from behind his table. "I'll do triage, Pierce. Get working on that Lieutenant."
Hawkeye bit back a response, crossing his eyes at BJ instead. Frank left, door swinging behind him, as the dark-haired surgeon craned his neck, peeking at the leg of the man lying before BJ. "How's it look? Can you save it?"
BJ shrugged. "Have to. Otherwise he won't have a leg to stand on." Immediately, he cringed. "Sorry, that was --"
"Necessary." Hawkeye cut in. "Just do all you can."
Poking his head through the door, Klinger called out, "There's a man in shock out here, Major Burns says he needs in next, and another man who's lungs need fixing bad. There's also a guy with a hole in his gut the size of a baseball, the nurse says he's a One."
Margaret clicked her tongue. "Bring them in, Corporal!"
"Yes, Major."
Hawkeye glanced down at the man before him. "This man's wounds are superficial, take him back. I'll take the kid with the lungs." Gesturing for the nearest corpsman, he added, "BJ?"
"I can save it. Another hour and --"
"No time to spare." Hawkeye glanced up at the blonde doctor's face. "Get ready to amputate."
"Amputate?" He hesitated, scalpel in hand.
"Other kids out there have more than just a leg to lose." Hawkeye paused. "I'm sorry."
BJ merely nodded, and muttered for a saw.
"I'll buy you breakfast." Concerned, Hawkeye watched his new bunkmate stumble out into the bright Korean light, rubbing at his eyes.
"Thanks, but I don't -- I don't think I could hold anything down, right yet."
Hawkeye nodded. "You did good work in there. Some of the best I've ever seen."
"You too." BJ sighed, making his way for the Swamp. "I think I'm just going to go and write the wife. Promised I would."
"Right." Hawkeye hesitated. "I'm -- I'm sorry."
Brow knitted in perplexity, BJ looked over. "Sorry?"
Hawkeye made a gesture, sweeping his arm out over the camp before them. "For this."
BJ smiled, a half-hearted smile. "Thanks."