"Hawkeye, just go, will you?" BJ half-heartedly waved a hand towards the door, preoccupied with the open stove before him.
"Look, Beej, I know you don't want to seem like a burden, but I really don't think I should leave you alone for --"
"Go, go, have a few drinks, meet a new nurse, stumble back in three hours from now, go. Radar's on his way, I've got to fill out the death certificate, then I'll head on over to Sidney's tent, alright? I'll be just fine. It's was only a patient, only a --" BJ made a choking noise, pausing to draw in a breath. "Only another dead man."
Hawkeye sighed and lowered himself onto the cot beside BJ. Reaching a hand out, he gave a comforting pat as he said, "BJ, you did all you could."
"I've heard this all before Hawk, I don't need to hear it again."
"We can just have a night in. Drink ourselves silly via the still, play a few rounds of, while drinking a few rounds of, gin until the cards all blur together, it'll be a grand old night." Hawkeye slowly lowered his hand. "I don't want you to be alone, not now."
"Hawkeye, please." BJ shut the stove door, standing to pour himself a glass from the still. "Just go. Don't waste a night on account of me, the Officer's Club is waiting. The last thing I need is the guilt of knowing I ruined one of the few nice evenings we get in this damn war."
Hawkeye seemed to be considering this for a moment, almost ready to give in, when he suddenly shook his head. "It's alright, I was getting sick of Nurse Daggett anyway. A perfect figure like that, she's bound to have a few personality flaws." He grinned, straining to ease the tension.
"Hawkeye . . . " BJ trailed off, pointing to the door.
A moment passed. "Alright, alright, I give in, I cave. Have it your way. I will go, drink myself into a stupor, and in the process a Nurse's tent, and I will return by dawn's early light." Hawkeye pulled himself to his feet, shuffling over to where his parka lay waiting. As he began to zip himself up he shot a meaningful glance BJ's way. "You should change those bandages. Last thing you need is an infection that'll knock you off your feet for days." He began to walk over to the door, adding over his shoulder. "Beej, you may have heard it before, but it's true. There was nothing more you could do for the kid." BJ nodded, eyes cast downward. "Just -- watch yourself. I'll be back in a few hours."
BJ managed to plaster on a smile, his cheeks aching from the strain, and made a motion that vaguely resembled a salute. As Hawkeye's figure quickly retreated into the thrashing wind, the smile faded away.
Gentle yet hurried footfalls echoed away until they faded into nothing, as BJ scrambled to open his footlocker. Halfway there, he stopped. He stood, perfectly still, in the middle of the Swamp, hand reaching out, one foot in mid-step. Slowly his breath became ragged, choppy. He seemed frozen in time, unable to move or breathe, lost. The silence of the tent pressed down on him, covering him.
The moment passed as quickly as it came, and BJ dropped to his footlocker. He struggled to open it, shaking hands making it nearly impossible to work the lock. Again, BJ stopped. His mind raced, arguing with itself, as his labored breaths echoed in the tent. He went back to the lock, rejoicing as it popped open. Urgently, he shoved a hand into the trunk and began to dig around.
Retrieving just what he wanted, he roughly shoved his sleeves up past his elbows, hardly aware of the cold air that hissed about the Swamp, and began to rip the stark white bandages from his arms. He took no care in doing his job, and was quickly done, bandages crumpled to the floor. His mind was clouded over, and try as he might he could not work his way through the fog, leaving him rendered helpless, unable to control what his own body began to do to itself, his actions involuntary. For a moment he felt nothing, until the first white-hot tear pierced his cheek.
He continued on, as if unaware.
***
Radar took a deep breath before opening the door to his office, quickly rushing out into the winter wind. Half walking, half jogging, he kept his head bent low, the wind stinging his eyes until tears began to form. Not for the first time, Radar wished that he never had to leave the slight warmth of his office. Through the parka he wore tightly around him, he fingered the folded certificate in his pocket. He hated many of his jobs, the delivery of a death certificate one of them, and wanted nothing more than to not have to notify yet another family of a death. Of all the things to despise in a war, death was Radar's most loathed.
He pushed all thoughts of death and the unpleasant tasks before him dealing with Evans's return to the states as he impatiently knocked on the Swamp door. Radar was sure that the stove was on, and with the flaps of the tent down, the Swamp was guaranteed to be warmer than the middle of the compound. Unable to feel his fingers, he knocked again.
"Captain Hunnicut, sir? Are you in there?"
A scrambling sound came from behind the door, followed by a strangled, "Hold on!"
Radar began to bounce from foot to foot, moving to heat up as his teeth chattered. Just when he was about to leave, positive another moment in the cold would freeze his blood straight through, he could hear BJ call for him to come in. Radar hastily took advantage of the invitation.
Inside, BJ sat across the tent on his cot, his back to Radar, shaking slightly. Radar darted over to the stove in the middle of the room, rubbing his hands together over the fire. "I brought you the certificate, sir. And a real nice pen to fill it out with."
"Thank you, Radar." Still, BJ did not turn around.
"And when you're done Colonel Potter wonders if he could talk to you. He's writing to Evans's family, says maybe you have a few things you'd like him to say?"
BJ didn't even both to raise one of the arms folded in front of him to wave off the offer. "Tell him I don't think there's anything I could say, but thanks anyway."
Radar carefully removed the certificate from his pocket and slowly extracted the fountain pen he held tucked inside a parka sleeve. "The pen belongs to the Colonel, bring it back when you're through." He gingerly set it down beside BJ, waiting for the older man to take it. He didn't. "I would have been here quicker, except I couldn't find the certificates. Klinger moved things all around last time he was clerk, I still haven't found the file cabinet for letters J-M."
BJ hardly grunted in acknowledgement.
Radar paused, taking a deep breath as he looked up to where the other man sat, his back straight. "Is it bad, sir?"
BJ stiffened. "Bad?"
"Your arms, are they bad this time?"
"How did -- what -- how can you --" BJ sputtered, long last turning to look at Radar over his shoulder.
Somberly, the young Corporal glanced at his shoes, muttering, "Not much goes through this camp I don't know, sir. I think I see more of what goes on than even Colonel Potter does."
"Colonel -- does he know?"
"No sir. It's not my place to tell him."
BJ nodded, his breaths shuddering. Slowly, seconds ticking away like hours, he turned his body around to face Radar, unfolding his arms as he did so. Radar sharply gasped at the sight before him.
Blood slowly trickled down the Captain's arms, steadily dripping. A red ribbon wrapped around his arms, winding up and down, in and out, slowly making it's way down to his hands, where it silently slipped off and onto his pants. Shaking, BJ looked up, a lone tear hiding beneath his eye.
"Radar? Help." He was quiet, talking hardly above a whisper, so that Radar had to strain to hear him.
"I'll go get Hawkeye he --"
"No." BJ interrupted, his voice firm. "He deserves a night of -- no. Go and get -- go get Father Mulcahy. Quick."
Radar nodded, scrambling to the door. "I'll go and get Major Doctor Freedman too, he'll --"
"No. Just the Father."
Radar reluctantly agreed as he rushed back out into the cold compound and the night.
BJ sighed, laying back on his cot, watching the blood spill, unable to stop shaking.
***
Having checked both Post Op and the Father's tent, Radar entered the Officer's Club anxious and hopeful that he would find his man before any more time had passed. As the door slammed shut behind him, sharply cutting off the cold wind, hardly anyone looked up, all too concerned with the drinks before them. Radar scanned the room, eyes searching, and spotted Hawkeye seated at the bar leaning in close to a nurse, whispering. BJ's stern request that Hawkeye not be interrupted rang sharply in his mind. As much as Radar disagreed, feeling that the dark-haired doctor would want to know, he turned away. BJ had asked, and he had promised.
The sound of the ragtime music and the clanking of ivory keys broke through Radar's thoughts. Making his way through the dancing crowd to where Father Mulcahy sat playing, he briefly noted how inappropriate the upbeat melody and beat emitting from the piano seemed. Of course, he mused, Father Mulcahy couldn't very well know what was happening on the other side of the compound. Reaching the Chaplin, Radar wasted no time, speaking rapidly as he tried to inform the other man of the arising situation.
"Father?" Radar glanced around, checking carefully that the other occupants of the room were too busy dancing and drinking to pay attention to the Corporal.
"Ah, Radar? A request?"
"A what? Oh, no." He sharply shook his head. "Excuse me, Father, I hate to interrupt your playing, seeing as how much you like it and all, but I think I have to." He reached for the Father's hat, perched on the piano corner, and held it out to him as he continued. "I think you should come with me."
Father Mulcahy halted in his playing, turning to face Radar. Around the room protests of the dancing couples rang out, asking the priest to continue. He ignored them and gradually they quieted down again, a song now ringing out from the record player in the corner.
"What is it, Radar?"
He leaned forward, beckoning the Father to come closer. Worried and puzzled, Father Mulcahy did just that.
"It's BJ, Father." Radar whispered, snapping back as soon as he had spoken.
"BJ?"
"He --" Radar's eyes darted around once more, wary, "He's hurt, bad. I found him in the Swamp, he doesn't look too good. Told me to come and get you, real quick like."
"BJ's -- oh my." Father Mulcahy snatched his hat from Radar's outstretched hand, jamming it onto his head as he jumped up. "This is -- oh dear, this is awful. I'd better go and -- oh, this is just -- oh, dear." Flustered, Father Mulcahy rapidly crossed to the door. Pausing only a moment, he turned to where Radar stood. "Thank you, Radar, for coming for me. The sooner I -- thank you. If you could go and get Sidney, so I could head right on over to --"
"No!" Radar broke in, suddenly. As a few of the nearest people turned to stare at the outburst, he lowered his voice. "No. Captain Hunnicut said he didn't want to see Major Doctor Freedman, not now. He made me promise not to get him."
"I really think --"
"Promise, Father. I can't go back on my word now."
Father Mulcahy stared at the door handle beneath his hand, deep in thought. "Dear, that is a problem, isn't it?" His brow furrowed as he mind raced. "Radar, you understand how important it is Sidney sees BJ right now, don't you?"
Radar merely nodded.
"And how mostly, with a situation like this, it would be best to let BJ decide what to do and not push him too hard?"
Again, he nodded.
Father Mulcahy lifted his hat, running a hand through his hair. "Then, Radar, you'll understand how right now letting BJ have what he wishes, and leaving Sidney out of this for the time being, cannot happen."
"I know, Father, but he --"
Quietly, Father Mulcahy cut in. "This is a serious matter and BJ needs not only my help as a friend, but Sidney's help as a professional. If it'll help, you can tell BJ I pulled rank and ordered you to."
Radar thought for a moment, shaking his head. "No. I think I'd rather you didn't."
"Of course." Hand on the door, hat firmly on his head, Father Mulcahy turned away. "I'll be in the Swamp, if anyone needs me." Without so much as a glanced back, he quickly exited, hurrying out into the cold.
Radar took one last look at Hawkeye, who sat laughing as he listened to one of the nurses, and followed after the Father.
***
"You're quite the charmer, Captain Pierce, I'll give you that."
Grinning, Hawkeye replied. "You've yet to feel the full force of my magnetic charm. This is just the beginning. And please, call me Hawkeye."
"Alright, Hawkeye." Pausing, Nurse Daggett added. "I'd love to get a chance to see the rest of your charm."
"I'd love to give you the chance." Coy, Hawkeye began to gently run a finger along her hand.
"How about now? Say -- my tent?" As Hawkeye's head snapped up, eyes meeting a sly smile, Daggett began to stand, holding a hand out to Hawkeye. Quickly, he scrambled out of his seat, grasping her hand.
Softly, he glanced into her eyes, whispering, "You sure?"
Daggett nodded. "Besides, another moment of this music and I think I'd go crazy." She gestured to the record player, blaring from the corner.
Hawkeye smiled. "If it's music you want, I have just the record. Give me a moment to go a fetch it from Frank's trunk and I'll meet you in your tent. Say, five minutes?"
She turned, pulling on his hand. "Oh, no you don't. I'm not letting you get away, not for a second. I'll come with."
And with that said, they hurried to pay for their half-empty drinks and rushed for the door.
***
"BJ? BJ, please, open the door. It's Father Mulcahy." Again, he knocked. No answer.
Unsure of what to do, he glanced around the compound, hoping for an answer to drop from the sky. He whispered a prayer under his breath and knocked once more. This time a faint "Come in" sounded from inside the tent. He wasted no time in doing just that.
As he hurried to shut out the cold behind him, Father Mulcahy spotted BJ sitting on his cot, working a bandage around his left arm with his right. The blood splattered against the olive drab of BJ's pants jumped out to him as he stepped over to the cot.
"Oh, BJ." He whispered.
Silently, he sat down besides the blonde man, reaching a hand out to halt him. Father Mulcahy gently took the bandage into his own hand winding up the arm himself. Fastening the white cloth closed, he threw an arm around BJ's shoulders, whispering small words of comfort as the young doctor began to cry.
