Okay, I'm really nervous about my laguage, but it was the best I could do now)))

The story is coming to a close now. I hope you'll like the ending. I tried to cover all the loose ends and leave only one for the my future last chapter.

Please, R&R, and tell me if I missed anything.

Disclaimer: I don't own MASH, but I like it)))

Enjoy!

Chapter 11

"Come on! What are you two waiting for?" Margaret shouted over her shoulder.

Potter, BJ and Charles exchangedglances and silently watched their head nurse stride toward the entrance and disappear behind the doors. BJ was the first to follow shouting the other men to hurry.

"Is everything clear?"

"Yes Colonel." BJ answered frantically scrubbing his arms, "If we did miss a bleeder, we'll find it."

Potter nodded, "I won't even doubt it." he said when he reached the front door, "Good luck."

The Colonel turned on his heel and left the three officers finish their scrubbing.

"Let's see what Hawkeye is made of." said BJ pushing through the double doors, "Are you ready Charles?"

Charles suppressed a nervous chuckle. In his attempt to defuse the tension BJ had unintentionally hit the most painful spot. This would have been a very funny topic to discuss if it was not the exact thing Winchester was desperately trying to avoid. Disgusted by his own thoughts and burning with shame, he caught himself wishing with all his heart not to participate in this operation. The cause of his sudden desire to cowardly turn his tail was not the previous fear to let Pierce down, but the fact that he had already done it. What could have gone wrong? He checked and rechecked all his stitches, he was sure of it. Did his pride and his enormous ego deceive his senses?

Feeling the silence draw far too long, Charles looked at BJ. The man looked back as if expecting a reply to his joke. "I'm ready Hunnicutt," he decided to answer, "But you'll find nothing we might not have, believe me."

"I'm afraid you're wrong, Charles." BJ answered with a sigh when Margaret helped him put on the gloves, "We don't need to be operated on, I guess it makes Hawkeye's state is slightly more unusual than it should be."

"And the one to blame is Me." Charles thought. He refrained just a second before these words could escape his lips. Potter's news about the bloody drainage stuck in his mind, spreading through all his body like some deadly poison. Sudden chill that had nothing to do with the weather outside filled his chest, for the second time of the last couple of days.

"Charles!" BJ's voice nearly made him jump.

"What is it?"

"May I begin?" the Captain asked.

The question sounded much weaker and softer than the Major's name. BJ must have spent all his power trying to attract Charles's attention and had not yet refilled the energy. Charles looked at his tent mate curiously. Despite the casual air he applied to his tone the Captain looked absolutely miserable: his bright blue eyes were red with dark shadows around them, his young face looked ten years older and there was a distinctly grayish tinge to his skin. "What's going on inside Hunnicutt's head right now? It seems, I'm not the only one here whose heart is about to rip apart."

"All is ready, Hunnicutt," Charles answered pressing his stethoscope to Hawkeye's pulse point, "the vitals are stable."

"Let's start then." BJ froze for about ten seconds as if to compose himself and bent over his patient. "Thanks Heaven the Colonel was quick to notice the blood, it could have been much worse if he hadn't." he murmured doing the first cut, "We could easily miss it because of his stable vital signs."

"I'm sorry, it's probably one of my stitches." said Charles carefully. He didn't want them to know about the new stage of his guilt. He was tired of the quarrels and feared Margaret's reaction. "Oh, don't begin this self loathing, Charles," she would snap reminding him about their agreement to put it off until Pierce gets better.

To his great surprise the Major's words proved him wrong. "There's nothing to be sorry for Charles." she said.

"Why so?" he asked passing his attention to the nurse. She did not look better either, her face was whiter than her mask, her hands were trembling and the sight of blood was apparently making her sick. For the first time did Winchester see the head nurse of their MASH unit, their double natural, as Pierce used to call it, being afraid of blood.

"Everybody makes mistakes Charles, you're not a machine." Margaret answered simply, "you do remember how tricky the whole operation appeared to be, don't you?"

"It doesn't change anything, it was Me who failed." Winchester shook his head and tried to concentrate on what was going on. "Thank you Major, but your argument doesn't make my worry easier."

"Neither has it made mine." echoed BJ, "I still think that I had messed everything up."

"How could you have?" asked Charles in astonishment, completely forgetting about his own sad thoughts. "It was I who operated on Pierce…"

"And it was I who nearly lost him on our ride to the camp…" BJ interjected.

"And it was I who wasted so much time because of my fears…" objected Charles.

"And it was I who had stolen this time of yours spilling out my emotions…" joined Margaret.

"And we think it's high time for you three to shut up and start working!"

BJ, Charles and Margaret raised their heads looking for the owner of the voice they had just heard. In a moment Winchester's eyes fell on Colonel Potter with Father Mulcahy and Klinger, standing like guardians at his sides.

"This is truly ridiculous!" the Colonel cried, piercing each of his officers with an icy glare. There was something in his eyes that told Winchester that they all were in deep trouble. "You didn't even notice Mulcahy leave and enter the room!" Potter continued his tirade, "You didn't see Klinger rush out of the OR to catch me and bring me here before you end up blaming yourself for the deadly sins!"

Margaret opened her mouth as if to say something in her defense but was immediately cut short by Father Mulcahy, whose self-control began to stagger under his emotions.

"Look at yourself!" the priest's angry voice reverberated through the room, "Even children can behave themselves when it's needed! Haven't you forgotten about you patient yet? Your quarrels seem to leave you little time to think about such trifles as Hawkeye's condition!"

Charles's ears were burning with shame and guilt. He felt extremely sick and tried to avoid looking in Mulcahy's eyes, fearing to find nothing but disappointment written on the priest's face. He lingered his gaze on his companions instead and saw that the feeling was apparently mutual. Seeing the expectant gazes on himself, Winchester instantly inserted the earpieces and pressed the stethoscope to Hawkeye's carotid artery, desperately waiting for the Captain's heartbeat to carry to his ears. Relief filled his whole body when he found Hawkeye's pulse strong and steady.

"He's fine." the Major said releasing the breath he had been holding. Charles saw BJ and Margaret smile under their masks.

Then BJ took a deep breath and turned to Potter. "It's not as easy as we initially thought," he murmured, "I mean…" he paused as if choosing the right words, "I actually thought I was fine, but everything's more difficult when you meet your fears… so to say, in flesh…"

"I know what you mean, son," said Potter calmly, "and I don't expect you overcome your stress so easily, but you must try to keep your emotions at bay, for Hawkeye's sake at least."

There was a long silence before Charles found his voice for an answer.

"Thank you, Colonel." he said. BJ and Margaret nodded.

"You are welcome, Winchester," Potter answered, "now, let's patch our leaking friend up and put him on his legs before we all go mad."

"Yes Colonel," BJ smiled sadly, "but I'm afraid it's already too late."

It was evening. By that time, the snow that had begun falling several hours before lay on the icy ground like a thick white blanket. This kind of weather could be nothing but a Christmas present as it changed the camp completely. All of a sudden the whole place looked like it had been enchanted. Fluffy snowcaps, silvered trees and bushes, swirling snowflakes transformed it into a magic northern village where miracles were more common than the sunrise. There was no a Christmas tree though, neither there were mistletoes. Nobody bothered to decorate the doors with garlands and, of course, nobody even thought of singing Christmas Carrols. All was peaceful and absolutely still.

The night finally fell and the empty compound was soon plunged into darkness. Only two buildings in the whole MASH unit provided that little illumination that saved it from looking dead, the post-op ward and the mess tent. Never had the latter been so crowded and quiet at the same time. BJ sighed and closed his hands around the steaming cup hoping that it would warm his numb fingers. It didn't help though; he was still cold and tired. He knew perfectly well that the weather was not the one to blame for his state, the main culprit was fear.

Hawkeye's condition was stable and the operation went rather smoothly, much better than the previous one. It appeared that Winchester's stitches were not the cause of the bleeding and BJ managed to find the source rather quickly. The hole was not big and well-hidden, explaining why it didn't make too much harm and why they had missed it in the first place. Assured that Hawkeye was still alive, Potter and Father Mulcahy left to spread the news to the others.

"I hope you can cope with the rest by yourself," the Colonel's voice was stern, but his eyes betrayed him, suggesting that he did not mean what he said, "and I won't be interrupted again by Klinger reporting that you had started a fight."

So it was that transporting their friend to the post-op, the surgeons and the nurse were met by almost the whole camp waiting for them in the ward. After updating the MASH inhabitants on the chief surgeon's current condition and sending most of them away, they all took seats around their friend's cot to keep vigil. They didn't speak; neither did they even look at each other. All were drifting somewhere deep in their thoughts.

It was already late in the evening when Potter, Mulcahy and Klinger entered the ward, grabbed the trio and dragged them to the mess tent. There was no point in arguing and assuring their CO that they were fine and did not want to eat, he would not believe them anyway. So BJ simply let the Colonel lead him to an empty table that, BJ guessed, had been spared just for them and set him down with Winchester and Margaret on each side. They didn't speak did not even show any reaction when Klinger put three cups of coffee on the table saying something about having dinner. All they wanted was to come back to the post-op and be with their friend…

"May I have you attention please?"

BJ raised his eyes from the cup he had been squeezing all this time and saw Colonel Potter, worry mixed with determination on his face. He cleared his throat before beginning his speech.

"Hello everyone," he said at last, "I suppose all of you remember that today is actually a Christmas Eve," the response that he got was grave silence and nobody dared breaking it, nobody, except Charles.

"Colonel, don't you think this is not the time for celebrations?" he asked quietly.

Potter lingered his eyes on him and BJ felt him start under his gaze.

"I'm the CO here, Major, and I have my responsibilities and I'm in charge of morale of this place."

"But…"

"Whatever happens…" Potter cleared his throat again, "we must not forget about our duties!" he paused, "We promised to organize a Christmas party for the orphanage and I'm determined to keep this promise."

"Colonel, do you really think that it is a good idea?" asked BJ.

"I don't think so, son," Potter answered grimly, "but I did promise, so did Father Mulcahy. He's organizing the transportation right now. Those children deserved a Christmas party, and I will make sure they get it!"

BJ looked at Margaret hoping that the nurse would knock some sense into the old man, but saw her rubbing her eyes. It might have been a hard moment for the Major. She was definitely on the verge of a breakdown, but could not afford crying in front of the full tent of people.

BJ felt sorry for her and decided that the least he could do was to give her a handkerchief. He thrust his hand inside his pocket trying to locate it, but found a flat square object instead. He took it out. It was a letter, Hawkeye's letter. He remembered how he got it and the memory brought more burning to his eyes. Klinger gives BJ the letters and asks him to pass one to Hawkeye. With all that happened to his best friend he had completely forgotten about it. The Captain looked at the address and saw that the letter was from Hawkeye's father. The envelope was thick and rather heavy. Would it be good if BJ opened it? What if it's the document he and Hawkeye were waiting for? Remembering that day, BJ tore the envelope open without hesitation.

"Beej!"

The first day of November met the Swampmen with cold wind, heavy rain and the most terrible hangover they had ever suffered from before. BJ's throat was dry as desert and he could not help but consider the idea of sewing up his mouth. A quick look at Winchester proved his condition to be the same as BJ's. Hawkeye, however, seemed to feel much better than his tent mates.

"Why are you so disgustingly fresh and cheerful?"

"Sorry, Beej, not my fault," Hawkeye shrugged his shoulders, "my drinking marathon was rudely interrupted by my father's call. His good news must have saved me from all the agony of the after-party-morning."

"Good for you," murmured BJ, "so, what's the news?"

"My dad found the sponsor."

BJ's tired brain was slow to digest the information at first, but as soon as the sense dawned on him, it began waking up.

"You're kidding!" BJ screamed jumping on his cot.

"No, I'm not!" Hawkeye smiled, "Captain Tuttle's work has never been forgotten, now it's time for us to take the helm.

"BJ? What are you reading?"

Margaret's loud voice suddenly filled BJ's ears and he nearly fell from his chair. He folded the letter quickly and hid it in his pocket.

"Oh, it's nothing, just a letter from Hawk's father. I'll give it to him when he wakes up." he answered, wiping the image of the grinning Hawkeye from his mind. "When are the children due to arrive, Colonel?" he finally asked.

"In two hours." answered Potter.

"Good, let's get ready to meet them."

Potter looked at him in bewilderment, "Why did you change your mind?"

It was not the time to share their secret with the others, most certainly not with the whole camp. "I changed it for Hawk's sake." BJ finally answered, "I'm sorry, Colonel, perhaps I'll tell you when Hawk is back with us; it's mostly his business than mine…"

Potter narrowed his eyes but didn't give any comments. "Alright then," he said, "let's get going people! We have a MASH unit to prepare for Christmas!"

"BJ!"

It was half past eleven, the holy Christmas night was about to come. BJ was sitting in the corner of the mess tent nursing one single thought in his mind – "how to escape". The jolly festive atmosphere of the approaching holiday somehow made him sick. "It's not fair!" he said through his teeth, "Hawk did so much for them and now he can't even be here!" He knew that he was probably a party pooper but couldn't help it. Hawkeye's happy face was fresh in his mind, reminding him what could have been if his friend hadn't had that accident, if he had returned to the unit safe and sound to organize what they had been planning for a month.

The solution to his problem finally arrived when Margaret called his name.

"BJ!" she shouted louder.

"What?"

"Can you take her to the post op?" Margaret pushed her way through the crowd carrying a girl, not older than six, on her arms. "She fell asleep."

"Yes why not." he answered.

"Thank you BJ," she smiled, "And I think there's no point for you to hurry, take your time." She looked BJ directly in the eyes and went away.

Ones in the post op BJ lay the sleeping girl on an empty cot; the one Charles slept on, and took his post near Hawkeye.

"How is he?" he asked the nurse on duty.

"Stable," she answered, "but she hasn't even stirred yet."

BJ nodded in understanding. "Go to the mess tent lieutenant," he said, "I'll take the shift."

Seeing her hesitate, he added "I'm perfectly fine, don't worry."

Having wished him a Merry Christmas, she left. Alone at last, BJ closed his eyes, took Hawkeye's hand and squeezed it gently. "You really need to wake up Hawk," he whispered, "we did it, you and your father did it. He organized everything. He's apparently expecting a letter or a phone call from you; it must be you, not me or anyone in this camp. Please, Hawk, wake up and don't make your old father worry, do it for all of us." Suddenly BJ heard footsteps. Turning around he saw Charles, Margaret, Potter, Klinger and Mulcahy standing in the doorway.

"Don't you think that we will leave you two alone?" asked Margaret, successfully predicting the question that was about to form on BJ's mouth. "It's almost midnight BJ, and it's high time to make a wish."

"There's only one wish that comes to my mind right now." BJ answered.

"What a coincidence!" said Potter, taking more chairs and placing them near their unconscious chief surgeon's bed. "Our wishes are exactly the same as yours, does it make it stronger?"

"I does." BJ smiled.

They were sitting in uneasy silence, it was almost deafening but they didn't know what to say. They have already said and heard a lot, more than they expected. Now the time for words was over. The sacred moment was closer and closer, the moment that gives hope for everybody who needs it.

"One minute." said Charles.

BJ closed his eyes and held his breath. Everybody looked at Hawkeye who was as still as before.

BJ was restless, "Oh, please Hawk, don't let me down! You can do it!"

"Father, why don't you try?" asked Potter.

"Yes Colonel, but it worked only once." answered Mulcahy

"I remember it," said Margaret, "it was Hawkeye who asked you to try and it really worked," she looked at the priest, "do it for Hawkeye now."

Mulcahy nodded and took the surgeon's cold hand.

"Merry Christmas everyone!" said Potter.

"Merry Christmas!" they repeated in unison.

Suddenly they saw Hawkeye's hand twitch in Mulcahy's and, as soon as the astonished priest put it back on the cot, his eyes opened.

"Hawk!" cried BJ, frantically grabbing his stethoscope, "do you hear me?"

Hawkeye blinked and focused his gaze on BJ's worried face.

"Beej," he murmured, "what happened?"

"Many things happened, Pierce." said Potter, grinning from ear to ear, "we'll tell you later."

"Oh, please don't tell me that I missed Christmas!"

"You didn't Hawk," said BJ, "you're right on time."

To be continued...