Unlocked
(A response to the prompt "flood.")
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B.J. pulls his dog tags out of the old, faded shoebox and stares at them dangling from his fingers. A wistful smile forms on his face as memories come flooding back.
Best Care Anywhere.
Bad gin and worse food. The same movies over and over. Practical jokes to pass the time.
Paranoid, borderline psychotic Frank Burns… pompous, insufferable Charles Emerson Winchester the third.
Witnessing the gradual softening of Margaret Houlihan. Dying to see what scheme Klinger would come up with next. Alternately worrying about Radar's naivete and marveling at his efficiency and knowledge.
Too many wounded and not enough sleep. Blood and lost limbs… pain and lost lives.
Igor and Sidney Freedman and Colonel Potter.
Hawkeye… Hawkeye… Hawkeye.
Still staring at the dog tags, staring into his past, B.J.'s smile grows. Ah, see… that's what Korea really comes down to. Bright blue eyes and a mischievous grin. Exuberant, full-throated laughter. Stolen moments in the supply tent, two days holed up in a hotel room in Seoul. Spooning on his tiny cot when they had the Swamp to themselves.
Licking gin off his back. Laughing at his bad jokes. Soothing him after a rough OR session.
Oh, the memories come back to B.J. in a rush, all right. It's too much, and it's too painful, and suddenly he's not smiling anymore. It's as if a light has been flicked off. Suddenly he's desperate to bottle it all back up again… it's safer that way, and saner.
Instinctively he throws the dog tags back into the box as if they'd bit him. He shoves the shoebox into the corner of the closet, where it's been hidden for years, where it belongs.
His life now is Peg, Erin, and the new baby, Joshua. The war is years behind him. Hawkeye is years behind him.
He wonders why he ever pulled that box out to begin with. Peg calls from downstairs that she needs his help balancing the checkbook. He replies, "Coming!" and shuts the closet door with a bang.
The memories are safely locked away again, in the dark corner of the bedroom closet.