Rating: PG. It Will go to PG-13 by chapter 5
Note: This is Slash! Not too heavy, or even mentioned more than once until chapter 5.
Disclaimer: I do not own MASH, the characters, etc, etc...Nor do I own the song "The Last Goodbye" by Jeff Buckley
Thankx to of you who have reviewed so far :-) Appreciate it :-D
Some of you have probably read this from my Live Journal...link in my info.
This is a semi-song fic. Lyrics will appear in only a few of the parts with the final set of lyrics in the sequel, if I can ever get it completed.
Enjoy :)
PART 4The day has arrived!! You borrow your dad's car and drive down to the airport. Then you pace for the hour until the plane is due to arrive, and then the extra 15 minutes that it is late.
The passengers slowly--too slowly--file out of the plane and, naturally, BJ is the last one off. He quickly drops his luggage when you leap to hug him
"Down, Hawkeye, people are staring," he jokes.
"Ah, they're just jealous! The small animal decide to crawl off your lip?"
"Yeah. Peg made me kill it."
On the way home, you are content to just listen to BJ talk. He speaks of the small clinic he plans to open and the hospital he is working at until then. When he asks about your business, you tell him that soon you will be joining your father's practice. You are not thrilled at that, and it must show.
A unanimous decision is made to get a light lunch and you pull over at the nearest restaurant. BJ tucks into his food for a few minutes, then looks up at you. "Waiting for your food to rot?" he asks.
"Yeah."
That response threw him. "What?"
"Not hungry."
"Why'd you order?"
"Haven't been hungry since I returned stateside."
"You have eaten since then?"
You nod. "I think that the war has blown my tastebuds all to Hell."
BJ grabs a pen from his shirt pocket and snatches your unused napkin, then scribbles something on it. "As your personal physician, I prescribe you to eat—at least—two meals a day, heavy on the snacks," he announces proudly, handing the napkin back to you, his neat script scrawled across it.
"Right now the napkin seems more delicious."
"Then take three napkins and call me in the morning."
You sigh. "Maybe I will be 'in the mood' later."
BJ looks up sharply---was that a double meaning he heard?
A note was waiting on the kitchen counter:
"Hawkeye and BJ;"You look over your shoulder to find BJ reading along
"I had to go perform an emergency surgery. Should be home by 5.
Love, Dad"Talk. All you want to do is talk. BJ lets you ramble on, adding comments of his own. It starts to feel like old times...almost.
An hour and a pause for breath later, you ask if he would like a beer.
"Naw," he replies. "Haven't touched a drop since Korea. You?"
"Not a drop."
"Maybe you could use one?"
Your lowered head darts up. BJ is sincere, not mocking, and you relax again.
It takes another hour before you ask the question that is most on your mind. "Beej, do you miss it?"
"It? If by 'it' you are referring to the wounded, bombs, Korea, then I don't miss those one bit. If by 'it' you mean the people? Then I miss them every day."
Your mouth had run dry, as well as the well of words that are normally so eager to pour from it.
"Hawk. I wouldn't mind a beer now, if you want one."