Genre: BJ/Hawk drabble with a little bit of humor, angsty frustration and attempted denial. Radar makes a small appearance…l
Summary: It was everything that was holding him to his old life. It kept the new life that was waiting patiently for him in war-torn Korea standing on the outside. It kept it from all being real. And it was gone…
The Last Shred
Where the hell was it? It was here earlier! Maybe Frank took it as some sort of gag? Retaliation, maybe, for the left-over, brick-hard meatloaf he and Hawkeye stashed in their unfortunate bunkmate's foot locker a week ago? The resulting stench alone would have caused the Pope to become homicidal. That damn Burns must have been rifling through his bunk and found it. And since the waste-of-space major knew how much B.J loved Peg and Erin, he had to have known that this would cause the younger doctor a physical sort of pain. B.J huffed angrily as he sat none-too-gently down on his cot. He tried to reason with himself about the situation. It was just a simple photograph, yet his heart was beating just quickly enough to be classified as panic. The picture had been taken by a nurse the moment Erin had been brought in, clean and healthy, to proud mother and father: Peg was looking at B.J, B.J was looking at the miracle of Erin with a happy grin on his face, and Erin had her eyes scrunched shut and was yawning. A simple snapshot of a happy little family. There were many more pictures of Peg and Erin, obviously… but this one was one of the very few where he was in the picture too. It meant a lot to him to be able to see himself with his family. It kept that memory fresh in his mind and it kept that warm feeling close to his heart. But now… it was missing. For some reason, dread ran its icy cold fingers over his back. It wasn't the end of the world if he lost it for good, but for some reason his mind was telling him it just might be. It was a piece of paper… B.J's eyes went wide as a new thought came to the forefront of his internal ramblings. It was a piece of paper that most likely wouldn't make it through the war. At that, B.J let out a harsh little laugh. That picture wouldn't make it through the war in more ways than one. He put his head in his hands as the reasons why began to float through his head. It was a short floating as the door to the Swamp opened and his jovial, dark-haired bunkmate entered with a witty greeting and a lighthearted step. All the reasons swimming adrift in B.J's thoughts found themselves swept under the figurative carpet in the back of his mind. When B.J finally found the nerve to look up, it was at a silent Hawkeye who was watching him with concern.
"You look like you just lost your kitten," he said. "That or you actually realized that eating in the mess tent tonight hadn't been a dream… a horrible, horrible dream…" Hawkeye sat down slowly on his own cot, his eyes not leaving B.J.
"You forget I'm allergic to cats and I think you may be understating the effect of the food," B.J said lamely. Hawkeye chuckled as he tossed a martini glass to the other doctor, who caught it with practiced ease.
"Let's give our swill from the still a thrill… maybe we can counteract the biohazard the kitchen calls food with a biohazard all our own. Was it just me or did the beef taste surprisingly like a leather boot?" the dark-haired doctor asked as he stood to pour the freshly made gin into the glasses.
"Tasted like and just as tough – with just a hint of month-old sock. Uggghhh…" B.J said as he made a face when the corrosive liquid made its way painfully down his throat, tears stinging at his eyes. "As thrilling as a drilling…" Hawkeye looked at him warily.
"It can't be that horrible," he noted before taking a gulp from his glass as well. B.J chuckled as his counterpart's face twisted into a look of both pain and horror.
"After all this time, you'd think we'd be used to it. But trust me, it can be that bad," he said with a heavier laugh.
"It's just… young… yet. Fresh out… of the still…" Hawkeye excused with a hearty choke on every other word. B.J gave him an amused look.
"Young? By how much?" he asked. Hawkeye looked at his imaginary watch as he continued to try and clear some of the burning in his esophagus.
"Mmmmm… twenty years, forty days, two hours and seventeen minutes," he said. B.J laughed again.
"You've got it down to that much of a science?" he asked. Hawkeye looked up at him in mock surprise.
"I'm sorry. Did you ask me a question? I was just predicting the very day my pickled liver will expire," he said.
"Or corrodes away completely," B.J said with a grin. Hawkeye shrugged with a grin of his own.
"Isn't it the same thing?" he asked. B.J gave his head a quick tilt as he gave Hawkeye the point, but fell silent. It didn't surprise B.J that Hawkeye would notice as his eyes roamed over the Swamp. And he would certainly also note the somber mood that came with it. B.J knew that his friend was going to ask what was wrong again eventually, but he was pleasantly surprised when his usually loquacious friend held off for a good, long minute. Actually, two, to be precise. But Hawkeye's concerned, inquisitive nature took over as he sat down next to B.J.
"Okay… tell the good doctor what ails ya," Hawkeye commanded as he watched B.J's eyes comb over the Swamp for what had to be the millionth time. It was silent for a moment as B.J questioned whether or not his 'crisis' was really important enough to share. When he looked up, B.J saw the look of seriousness that graced Hawkeye's face and realized that between the two of them there was no crisis labeled as 'unimportant'. It was the way it had been since the day they had met. But still, B.J stalled.
"Who says you're a good doctor?" B.J asked with a smirk, and a last ditch effort to change the subject. Hawkeye rolled his eyes.
"Are you kidding me? I'm a great doctor… now spill!" he said, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees. B.J let out a sigh.
"I can't find it, Hawk," B.J said with a sadness that settled somewhere deep in Hawkeye's own heart.
"Can't find what?" Hawkeye asked with a confused frown. B.J looked up. My life…
"My picture… of Peg, Erin and me…" he said softly, purposely ignoring the words that had echoed through his head. Where Hawkeye would usually throw in a comment about B.J's family man status and his unusual, war-time fidelity there was silence. B.J looked over to Hawkeye and saw the other man swallow uncomfortably. Hawkeye recovered as his eyes also scoured over the Swamp.
"Did you look everywhere?" he asked. B.J let out a chuckle as he nodded.
"Even in Frank's lockbox in his footlocker," he said. Hawkeye chuckled.
"Smartest thing we ever did was to get a copy of that key," he said. "You find anything interesting?" B.J grinned.
"Besides Margaret's birthday gift?" he asked.
"Oooooh, fine leather?" Hawkeye asked slyly. B.J shook his head.
"Hardly," he said. Hawkeye thought for a second.
"To think like Frank… cheap… hmmmm… a pair of Margaret's own nylons?" he ventured. B.J chuckled but shook his head.
"Think closer to home…" he said. Hawkeye's eyes went wide in glee.
"His wife's nylons," he said with understanding.
"The finest kind… 'His darling Louise' sent him a reminder of her… and a suggestive card to which Frank dutifully scratched out the names and disguised as hearts so that Margaret's name could fit near the greeting and his in the closing. It'd be quite romantic of him if it weren't so finkish," B.J recounted.
"That fink…" Hawkeye said with a disappointed shake of his head.
"You expected finer of Major Frank Burns?" B.J inquired. Hawkeye let out a snort.
"Sometimes, I'm confused into thinking he's a human being," he said. B.J let out a sigh of mock resignation.
"It happens to the best of us," he said. Silence fell again… the subject of Frank only allowing for a small conversation. Finally, Hawkeye stood with a clap of his hands.
"C'mon, Beej. Let's go grab a belt at Rosie's… By the time we get back you'll be drunk enough to remember where you put the picture. And if not, I'll tear this camp apart with my bare hands to find it for you," the older man said with a seriousness that brought B.J up short. He watched as his friend, his bunkmate, walked towards the door.
"You'd do that? Just for my picture?" he asked softly. Vivid blue eyes met B.J's own pale blue eyes.
"It's important to you," he said simply. Then, he grinned and winked. "Plus it'll give me an excuse to go through Nurse Abel's… ahem… drawers…" B.J shook his head with a laugh.
"You letch…" he said. Hawkeye wiggled his eyebrows.
"At least…" he answered back. B.J stood with another shake of his head.
"Hey, if we do a complete search of the camp, maybe we'll find out that the boot supply really was sent to the kitchen," he said.
"Or that government supplied meat really does come in grades lower than D…" Hawkeye added. B.J grinned as he followed the lankier man out the door.
It was three hours and a few drinks later when Hawkeye and B.J stumbled back into the Swamp with the help of Radar.
"Goodnight, sirs… err, morning really, since it's after my bedtime," the young corporal said with a yawn after helping B.J deposit Hawkeye on his cot. Hawkeye groaned as he pulled his pillow over his face.
"You probably won't be able to get up tomorrow, Hawkeye…" Radar commented as he eyed the other man's state. Hawkeye took the pillow off his face with a laugh.
"Only if I can help it… tell Mom to cancel the war, I don't feel well…" he said as he rolled over and closed his eyes, clutching the pillow to his chest. Radar rolled his eyes but couldn't help the smile that came over his face.
"I'll see what I can do, sir," Radar commented before turning to go. "Goodnight again, sirs…"
"Radar?" B.J asked before the young man could escape the tent.
"Yes, sir?" he asked, turning to look at the man almost twice his size. B.J waved off the 'sir' with a slightly uncontrolled gesture as he stepped closer to the young man.
"Have you seen a picture of mine? It was here this morning. And when I came back from post-op it was gone," he said. Radar frowned, trying to think of what picture B.J was talking about.
"I haven't seen no picture," he said as he turned a few circles to look at the floor around him. "But with this place bein' the Swamp and all, I can see why you can't find it." B.J chuckled.
"Yeah… but I've looked practically everywhere in here," he said as he looked around too. "Anyway, have you seen Frank with it at all? It would be just like him to take it…" Radar shook his head.
"No sir, B.J. Major Burns has been in surgery all day. He's had a couple of rough patients," the corporal said. A slight groan came from Hawkeye as he sat up in his cot and rubbed a hand over his face.
"Poor kids, they've got a rough doctor," he said in reference to Frank's patients. Radar smirked at the statement, then sobered at the subject at hand and turned to look at B.J.
"It's gotta be here, sir. It's not like it grew legs and walked off or anything," Radar commented. Hawkeye let out a snort.
"Anything could grow legs in here and walk out… that's why it's called the Swamp, Radar," he said.
"Too bad Frank couldn't do it," B.J. commented, causing both Hawkeye and Radar to snicker.
"He does kinda slither, doesn't he?" Hawkeye asked. B.J grinned.
"He's a fink. What did you expect?" he asked back. The two doctors were drawn out of their Frank bashing conversation when Radar shuffled his feet towards the door.
"I gotta early morning," Radar said after a moment or two. "I'll see you sirs tomorrow." Hawkeye stood as the corporal walked to the door and he slung his gangly arm around the shorter man's shoulders.
"You, Walter O'Reilly, are a good man," Hawkeye said with only a slight slur before he dropped his arm to approach the still. Then he added "And you too, B.J Hunnicutt" as if he'd never said it before.
"Awww, you're just hopped up on goofy juice," B.J said with a good-natured laugh at his friend's behavior. Radar looked slightly concerned.
"He's not normally so flattering after a trip to Rosie's, sir. He alright?" he asked. B.J grinned.
"A little too much beer and not so much saki. But with his tolerance level, he should be back to his usual, ever-so-maudlin self in about two minutes and counting…" he said with a teasing edge. Radar let out a little snort.
"Hawkeye's never in a bad mood," he said to B.J. The other doctor heard the comment and turned to the other two.
"That's because I'm in a perpetual state of drunkenness…" Hawkeye commented before downing the martini he'd poured in one gulp.
"Or just a perpetual state of crazy," B.J commented with a grin. Hawkeye thought about that for a second before he shrugged.
"Either one is good for me," he said. Radar snorted again.
"That's the truth," he said. Hawkeye gave the young man a look from the corner of his eye. Radar gave a shrug before he ducked out of the Swamp's door. B.J laughed softly as Hawkeye let out another groan and flopped back down onto his cot.
"Maybe you should stop while you're ahead, Hawk… even though, it probably isn't by much," B.J advised. Hawkeye opened his eyes.
"A head? I think I am one giant head… mine feels like it's about fifty pounds," he said. B.J chuckled.
"Alcohol's way of telling you it's overtaking your body," he said.
"Yeah, well, I surrender. It has my august permission to take over this train wreck," Hawkeye said. "Maybe it'll be a better driver…" B.J shook his head.
"I'm not nearly as drunk as you, yet I still feel like I'm going to fall over. May I suggest the both of us getting some sleep?" he asked. Hawkeye sat up slowly.
"Of course you may suggest… but I think I'm going to have another," he said, picking up his glass.
"If wounded come tonight, Hawk, you'll be in no shape to operate," B.J warned.
"If wounded come in tonight, Beej, I will most certainly be sober," Hawkeye said back. B.J watched him closely.
"Are you alright?" he asked, giving Radar's earlier question more credence than he had before. The taller doctor crossed the room and sat next to Hawkeye. When Hawkeye didn't answer, B.J put a hand on his shoulder, causing the older man to jump slightly.
"Hawk?" he tried again. Hawkeye looked down at the hand, and then up at B.J.
"I'm fine, Beej. As fine as I'm going to get over here," he said. Then, he gave his tent mate a smile. "Let's try to figure out where your picture is…" It was B.J's turn to be startled. The whereabouts of his picture had completely slipped his thoughts in the mindless banter as well as the sudden concern that had enveloped him over his tent mate.
"We've tried everywhere, Hawk. I guess I'm just going to have to consider it gone," he said as he stood and took a quick survey of the Swamp again.
"We obviously haven't tried everywhere, otherwise we'd have found it," Hawkeye commented.
"Yeah, well, I don't know where else to look," B.J said solemnly.
"Did you put it in your laundry by accident?" Hawkeye asked. "You always find things in the laundry that either aren't yours or don't belong there at all…" B.J took the subject to heart and immediately went to where his laundry sat unfolded. He sifted through the clothes, hoping that a simple piece of paper would fall out of the mess, but nothing did.
"I found a sock that isn't mine," B.J commented, holding up the offending object. Hawkeye sat up slightly.
"That's where it went!" he exclaimed before falling back again. "Well, damn… kind of makes me regret making the other into a sock puppet…" B.J laughed as he continued sorting through the laundry. Now… if only he could find that damn picture… But after a while, he let out a resigned sigh as he threw the rest of his unfolded clothes off of his bunk and into his chair. He didn't want to dwell on it any longer. So, rather than think about that missing piece of his life that usually lifted his spirits, B.J went to the next best thing that he kept safely locked away. He opened up his footlocker and took out a lockbox similar to Frank's. Inside that metal box he kept the things most important to him: letters from Peg, pictures drawn by Erin, his wedding ring… and another picture, tucked safely below all of the other objects. This one was of Hawkeye and himself. B.J picked up the picture with a smile on his face… but it slipped off as he did a double take to where it had lain moments before. How had he missed that? There it sat – the object of his frantic search - under the picture of him and Hawkeye. The picture Radar had been devious enough to take when the two of them hadn't been looking in his direction – only at each other. And for some reason, the young corporal had given the only copy to him…
When had he taken the picture of Peg, Erin and himself and put it somewhere that wasn't the safe haven near him – under his pillow where he could clutch it at a moment's notice? Or was it the picture itself that was the safe haven? B.J sighed as the walls he'd built brick by brick since he stepped on Korean soil were beginning to crumble. It was hard for him to make heads or tails of the rubble. The picture was his shield. It was to guard him from everything that had changed, everything that caused pain, everything that B.J had come to love in spite of all that change and pain. The picture was his last shred of his life before the war… and for some reason, the mourning of the passing of that once vise-like grip on his soul wasn't as difficult or heart wrenching as he'd anticipated. There was a weight next to him and he knew that Hawkeye had sat down next to him with a waiting martini. Without a second thought, B.J stuck both pictures under his pillow and then looked next to him where Hawkeye sat unusually close for a simple friend – even the closest of friends. Yes, the last shred was slipping away (alive only in a wrinkled photograph) as it was replaced by something just as warm as the past had been. Over time and under duress even the strongest of foundations can crumble and fall, its ashes blowing away in the wind. For B.J – and Hawkeye – Korea had provided the time and the duress in spades, corroding away their old lives each and every day they woke up in a foreign land, only a few miles separating them from death and destruction even more brutal than what they saw on their OR tables. So, B.J took the drink from the man at his side and basked in the knowledge of what Hawkeye meant to him, thanking God that there was something good that could come out of the war. He never even realized that he'd willingly just let that last shred slip out of his grip.
The End