Chapter Seven: Losing Grip
~~
Klinger felt as though he was swimming in some kind of dark gooey sea, almost too dense to navigate through well. The sea became lighter, like something had pierced it and light was flooding in. The light made it easier to swim through, and he began to float to the top. He groaned and coughed as he realised that he was not in a sea, he was in fact in a bed in Post-Op, half-conscious and in a considerable amount of pain.
"Urrgh," Klinger moaned, opening and closing his eyes a few times to sharpen his vision. He turned his head to the side, and saw a close-up some khaki-clothed knees. He looked up, and saw Colonel Potter chatting to a nurse. The Colonel saw that Klinger was awake, and quickly finished the discussion before speaking to the patient.
"Well, Sleeping Beauty awakens," Colonel Potter said with a smile, glad to see that Klinger was finally conscious. It had been several hours since he and Igor had been brought into Post-Op, and he had spent most of the time there, waiting for news on the conditions of both soldiers. "How're you doing?"
"Not so bad," Klinger croaked, he too managing to crack a smile, "My head hurts, and my chest killing me, but at least I'm alive."
"Amen to that," Colonel Potter said quietly, ever thankful that both Klinger and Igor had survived the incident that could have so easily ended up in tragedy. The sight of the burning building had brought his heart up to his chest, and despite seeming cool and calm on the outside, inside he had feared the worst.
"What happened to me, how does the Doc say I'm doing?"
"The Doc says you're doing well," Hawkeye said, overhearing the conversation as he strolled over to the bed and replaced his pen in his pocket. "The pain in your head is due to a concussion you picked up whilst falling down, you also have bruised ribs, but other than that you're doing well. How do you feel?"
"Like a got beat up and thrown under some guy's barbeque," Klinger said, laughing slightly before launching into a coughing fit.
"Hey, no jokes until your chest says so," Hawkeye said, concealing his concern with wisecracks as he usually did. "And you're not far off with that, you and Igor were fixing the stove, that's how you got a ticket to hospital."
"Igor! Is he okay?"
"He's going to be fine, he's suffered from second-degree burns but..."
"But what?"
"He'll be all right,Hehe" Hawkeye finished, happy to deliver some good news in a place containing so often too much bad news. At first the doctors were worried about Igor's burns, but once immersed in water they did not pose a problem, and the scarring on his hands would only be minor, hardly noticeable.
"Listen, Max, what happened in there, with that stove?" Colonel Potter asked, feeling guilty that he had sent both men in there. At the time it looked like the best option, but now he felt bad knowing that he may have sent two people to their death all because he wanted some breakfast. Now, with a kitchen in stages of repair, food could only be delivered from surrounding M*A*S*H units, and although it was difficult to believe, the food was more indigestible than before.
"I don't really know, Colonel," Klinger said absently. "One minute my back was turned, getting a tool for Igor, and the next I hear him yell and I'm thrown against a sack of something, and all I manage to do was sit up before I pass out. I'm sorry, but that's all I can remember."
"Don't worry, maybe we can find out some more from Igor when he wakes up," Colonel Potter said, hoping that this would be done sooner rather than later. "For the moment, you get some rest, all right? I've got Rizzo looking after your Clerk duties, so you don't need to worry about anything except getting better."
"Rizzo? He'll mess up all my filing!" Klinger complained indignantly, already imagining the mess he would return to when he was discharged from the hospital.
"You mean there's a way to mess it up even more?" Hawkeye asked in surprise, ducking as a pillow was thrown in his direction, but smiling to himself, as he was glad to see Klinger getting back to normal.
~~
BJ was drinking from the Still again the next evening, by half past eight he was on his fourth glass. Most people liked to go over to the Officer's Club for their drinks, but he preferred to wallow in his misery on his own. If people saw how much he was drinking, they would begin to ask questions about him, his life and his liver. One of the purposes of taking early morning shifts was to make sure that he had the evening free to drink himself to sleep.
Hawkeye entered the Swamp, having finished his shift in Post-Op, and immediately poured himself a drink, seeing that BJ already had one of his own.
"How are Klinger and Igor, and Father Mulcahy?" BJ asked, trying to pretend that he was more sober than he actually was. He had spent the last few days trying to perfect this, and he had so far discovered that talking should be kept to a minimum, and that any talking should be in the form of questioning the sober person.
"Getting along better," Hawkeye told him, settling himself on his cot and taking a sip of the fiery liquid. It trickled down his throat, burning a trail on the way down, and settled in a cold pit inside his stomach where it proceeded to melt the contents of it, which was that evening's dinner. "Father Mulcahy has now been cleared of food poisoning and left Post-Op this afternoon, Igor's awake now and his burns are healing, and Klinger had a walk to the Mess Tent this evening, and survived it." He paused before asking, "What are we drinking to?"
"Two in the morning," BJ declared, raising his glass before gulping it down. He would probably pass out before then, but he didn't really care, he had grabbed the time out of the air because it sounded about right.
Hawkeye watched BJ carefully as he unsteadily got to his feet to pour himself another, trying to figure out what was going on in the mind of his friend. He looked at his clothes, his baggy clothes, and said, "Did you get someone else's clothes back in the laundry or something?"
"Probably," BJ said vaguely, swaying slightly as he poured the liquid into his well-used martini glass. He spilt some on the table, and as he bent down to get a dirty t-shirt to wipe it up, he slipped sideways and toppled to the ground, knocking his head hard against his cot.
Hawkeye winced as the scene unfolded before him, and was immediately on his feet to check for any injuries that could have been picked up during the fall. He lifted BJ slightly, and was surprised at how light he felt. "Hey, I know I always tell you to use your head, but I think this was taking it too far."
BJ groaned and rolled his head, before placing his hand to the epicentre of the pain, finding that when he took it away, it covered in blood. "Ouch," he murmured to himself, not altogether alert. The room was spinning like a merry-go-round, and BJ wasn't quite sure whether it was due to the bump on the head, the alcohol, a combination of both, or what else.
With the help of Hawkeye he staggered to his feet, his knees almost buckling beneath him, but Hawkeye was hanging onto him tightly. "Come on, let's get you to Post-Op where they can take a look at your head," Hawkeye said, still hanging on as BJ stumbled out of the Swamp and across the compound.
Colonel Potter was on duty that night in Post-Op, where a nurse would usually be on duty the Colonel had opted to, because one of the wounded brought in had developed a fever and he wanted to monitor his progress personally, and be on hand in case measures became more drastic. He looked up from his paperwork and was surprised to see Hawkeye dragging BJ through the doors of the ward.
"What happened?" He asked in disbelief as he left his work and got up to investigate as to why one of his surgeons had blood dribbling down the side of his face. He'd already had three members of his staff admitted to the hospital in the past few days, he really did not want to settle for four.
"The booze got to his head and weighed it down," Hawkeye explained with some humour, helping BJ into a seat before he went to get the equipment needed to clean up the cut on his friend's temple.
Colonel Potter did not see the funny side, and decided to make this perfectly clear. "What do you think you're playing at, Hunnicutt, getting drunk beyond control? I hope that sore noggin sobered you up a bit, enough so that you can get the message I'm sending across here. I've been down three staff for the past few days or so, and that was through no fault of their own, I don't need to have someone else end up in here due to them not being able to hold their drink, because the last thing I need is a Post-Op with more staff in the beds than patients!"
"All right, let me solve your problem for you, see you later!"
BJ had sat through the entire lecture with a stony face, waiting with patience until Colonel Potter had stopped shouting. The instant that had happened, the volcano inside him that had sat dormant, bubbling away, had exploded and BJ's unseen fiery temper had gone with it. He stormed out of Post-Op, albeit unsteadily, and out into the Korean night, leaving a shocked Colonel Potter and a ward full of fearing patients.
Hawkeye returned quickly with his medical supplies, having heard some fierce shouting coming from Post-Op, to see BJ's retreating back. "What happened?"
Colonel Potter sighed, and with regret in his voice said, "I blew up at him for being drunk, and he blew back and left." Colonel Potter hadn't meant it like that, really, he was just concerned for BJ's health, and concerned that so many people in his unit had become injured lately. The tension gathered from Father Mulcahy's food poisoning, and in particular the accident involving Klinger and Igor had been let out on BJ, who in reality did not really deserve it, no one deserved it. Colonel Potter suddenly realised the full extent of his actions. "Damn, he's probably got a concussion, I shouldn't have done that."
Hawkeye, still holding the medical supplies, immediately went out into cold Korean night to search for BJ.
~~~~
~~
Klinger felt as though he was swimming in some kind of dark gooey sea, almost too dense to navigate through well. The sea became lighter, like something had pierced it and light was flooding in. The light made it easier to swim through, and he began to float to the top. He groaned and coughed as he realised that he was not in a sea, he was in fact in a bed in Post-Op, half-conscious and in a considerable amount of pain.
"Urrgh," Klinger moaned, opening and closing his eyes a few times to sharpen his vision. He turned his head to the side, and saw a close-up some khaki-clothed knees. He looked up, and saw Colonel Potter chatting to a nurse. The Colonel saw that Klinger was awake, and quickly finished the discussion before speaking to the patient.
"Well, Sleeping Beauty awakens," Colonel Potter said with a smile, glad to see that Klinger was finally conscious. It had been several hours since he and Igor had been brought into Post-Op, and he had spent most of the time there, waiting for news on the conditions of both soldiers. "How're you doing?"
"Not so bad," Klinger croaked, he too managing to crack a smile, "My head hurts, and my chest killing me, but at least I'm alive."
"Amen to that," Colonel Potter said quietly, ever thankful that both Klinger and Igor had survived the incident that could have so easily ended up in tragedy. The sight of the burning building had brought his heart up to his chest, and despite seeming cool and calm on the outside, inside he had feared the worst.
"What happened to me, how does the Doc say I'm doing?"
"The Doc says you're doing well," Hawkeye said, overhearing the conversation as he strolled over to the bed and replaced his pen in his pocket. "The pain in your head is due to a concussion you picked up whilst falling down, you also have bruised ribs, but other than that you're doing well. How do you feel?"
"Like a got beat up and thrown under some guy's barbeque," Klinger said, laughing slightly before launching into a coughing fit.
"Hey, no jokes until your chest says so," Hawkeye said, concealing his concern with wisecracks as he usually did. "And you're not far off with that, you and Igor were fixing the stove, that's how you got a ticket to hospital."
"Igor! Is he okay?"
"He's going to be fine, he's suffered from second-degree burns but..."
"But what?"
"He'll be all right,Hehe" Hawkeye finished, happy to deliver some good news in a place containing so often too much bad news. At first the doctors were worried about Igor's burns, but once immersed in water they did not pose a problem, and the scarring on his hands would only be minor, hardly noticeable.
"Listen, Max, what happened in there, with that stove?" Colonel Potter asked, feeling guilty that he had sent both men in there. At the time it looked like the best option, but now he felt bad knowing that he may have sent two people to their death all because he wanted some breakfast. Now, with a kitchen in stages of repair, food could only be delivered from surrounding M*A*S*H units, and although it was difficult to believe, the food was more indigestible than before.
"I don't really know, Colonel," Klinger said absently. "One minute my back was turned, getting a tool for Igor, and the next I hear him yell and I'm thrown against a sack of something, and all I manage to do was sit up before I pass out. I'm sorry, but that's all I can remember."
"Don't worry, maybe we can find out some more from Igor when he wakes up," Colonel Potter said, hoping that this would be done sooner rather than later. "For the moment, you get some rest, all right? I've got Rizzo looking after your Clerk duties, so you don't need to worry about anything except getting better."
"Rizzo? He'll mess up all my filing!" Klinger complained indignantly, already imagining the mess he would return to when he was discharged from the hospital.
"You mean there's a way to mess it up even more?" Hawkeye asked in surprise, ducking as a pillow was thrown in his direction, but smiling to himself, as he was glad to see Klinger getting back to normal.
~~
BJ was drinking from the Still again the next evening, by half past eight he was on his fourth glass. Most people liked to go over to the Officer's Club for their drinks, but he preferred to wallow in his misery on his own. If people saw how much he was drinking, they would begin to ask questions about him, his life and his liver. One of the purposes of taking early morning shifts was to make sure that he had the evening free to drink himself to sleep.
Hawkeye entered the Swamp, having finished his shift in Post-Op, and immediately poured himself a drink, seeing that BJ already had one of his own.
"How are Klinger and Igor, and Father Mulcahy?" BJ asked, trying to pretend that he was more sober than he actually was. He had spent the last few days trying to perfect this, and he had so far discovered that talking should be kept to a minimum, and that any talking should be in the form of questioning the sober person.
"Getting along better," Hawkeye told him, settling himself on his cot and taking a sip of the fiery liquid. It trickled down his throat, burning a trail on the way down, and settled in a cold pit inside his stomach where it proceeded to melt the contents of it, which was that evening's dinner. "Father Mulcahy has now been cleared of food poisoning and left Post-Op this afternoon, Igor's awake now and his burns are healing, and Klinger had a walk to the Mess Tent this evening, and survived it." He paused before asking, "What are we drinking to?"
"Two in the morning," BJ declared, raising his glass before gulping it down. He would probably pass out before then, but he didn't really care, he had grabbed the time out of the air because it sounded about right.
Hawkeye watched BJ carefully as he unsteadily got to his feet to pour himself another, trying to figure out what was going on in the mind of his friend. He looked at his clothes, his baggy clothes, and said, "Did you get someone else's clothes back in the laundry or something?"
"Probably," BJ said vaguely, swaying slightly as he poured the liquid into his well-used martini glass. He spilt some on the table, and as he bent down to get a dirty t-shirt to wipe it up, he slipped sideways and toppled to the ground, knocking his head hard against his cot.
Hawkeye winced as the scene unfolded before him, and was immediately on his feet to check for any injuries that could have been picked up during the fall. He lifted BJ slightly, and was surprised at how light he felt. "Hey, I know I always tell you to use your head, but I think this was taking it too far."
BJ groaned and rolled his head, before placing his hand to the epicentre of the pain, finding that when he took it away, it covered in blood. "Ouch," he murmured to himself, not altogether alert. The room was spinning like a merry-go-round, and BJ wasn't quite sure whether it was due to the bump on the head, the alcohol, a combination of both, or what else.
With the help of Hawkeye he staggered to his feet, his knees almost buckling beneath him, but Hawkeye was hanging onto him tightly. "Come on, let's get you to Post-Op where they can take a look at your head," Hawkeye said, still hanging on as BJ stumbled out of the Swamp and across the compound.
Colonel Potter was on duty that night in Post-Op, where a nurse would usually be on duty the Colonel had opted to, because one of the wounded brought in had developed a fever and he wanted to monitor his progress personally, and be on hand in case measures became more drastic. He looked up from his paperwork and was surprised to see Hawkeye dragging BJ through the doors of the ward.
"What happened?" He asked in disbelief as he left his work and got up to investigate as to why one of his surgeons had blood dribbling down the side of his face. He'd already had three members of his staff admitted to the hospital in the past few days, he really did not want to settle for four.
"The booze got to his head and weighed it down," Hawkeye explained with some humour, helping BJ into a seat before he went to get the equipment needed to clean up the cut on his friend's temple.
Colonel Potter did not see the funny side, and decided to make this perfectly clear. "What do you think you're playing at, Hunnicutt, getting drunk beyond control? I hope that sore noggin sobered you up a bit, enough so that you can get the message I'm sending across here. I've been down three staff for the past few days or so, and that was through no fault of their own, I don't need to have someone else end up in here due to them not being able to hold their drink, because the last thing I need is a Post-Op with more staff in the beds than patients!"
"All right, let me solve your problem for you, see you later!"
BJ had sat through the entire lecture with a stony face, waiting with patience until Colonel Potter had stopped shouting. The instant that had happened, the volcano inside him that had sat dormant, bubbling away, had exploded and BJ's unseen fiery temper had gone with it. He stormed out of Post-Op, albeit unsteadily, and out into the Korean night, leaving a shocked Colonel Potter and a ward full of fearing patients.
Hawkeye returned quickly with his medical supplies, having heard some fierce shouting coming from Post-Op, to see BJ's retreating back. "What happened?"
Colonel Potter sighed, and with regret in his voice said, "I blew up at him for being drunk, and he blew back and left." Colonel Potter hadn't meant it like that, really, he was just concerned for BJ's health, and concerned that so many people in his unit had become injured lately. The tension gathered from Father Mulcahy's food poisoning, and in particular the accident involving Klinger and Igor had been let out on BJ, who in reality did not really deserve it, no one deserved it. Colonel Potter suddenly realised the full extent of his actions. "Damn, he's probably got a concussion, I shouldn't have done that."
Hawkeye, still holding the medical supplies, immediately went out into cold Korean night to search for BJ.
~~~~