Disclaimer: I don't own MASH. If I did, it would've been even slashier than it already was, if that's humanly possible.
Summary: "We'll see each other back in the States! I promise!" B.J.'s promise is fulfilled, but not in a way either of them suspected.
A/N: This one was inspired by "Goodbye, Farewell and Amen" and murf1013 on LJ. Contains the tiniest spoiler for GFA, but it really only spoils one line. This is my attempt at angst. There are some odd tense shifts. They are deliberate.
"I told you we'd see each other again," B.J. said to me the instant I walked into the room.
I tried not to stare. God, he looked so… "You were right," I replied.
He noticed me trying not to stare and smiled cynically. "I know, I look awful."
"I--"
"Don't bother saying anything," he sighed. "I'm sorry. I've turned into a cynic."
I shrugged helplessly. "Anyone would have."
B.J. just shrugged. "I told Peg not to call you."
"I could leave…?"
"No," he said, and I got the impression he would have shouted it if he could. "I wanted to see you again. I just didn't want to leave you with…this." He held out his arms, and I knew I was staring for sure that time. He was skeletally thin, he had dark circles under his eyes and his eyes had this horrible look of resignation in them. There wasn't much anyone could do for B.J.'s illness at that time. Medicine has advanced so much in forty years. Nowadays, there's chemotherapy and radiation.
B.J. cleared his throat and my eyes jumped guiltily to the floor. "Um."
"Don't," he said again. "I was asking for it."
"But still…" I said, then trailed off. But still, I said in my head, I shouldn't stare at you, at all the changes and harm the cancer has caused.
It was about then that I fully realized that B.J. was on his deathbed.
"Um…" I stop again, not sure how he'll take it if I said It's good to see you.
"I'm glad you came," B.J. said, a little too quickly. The awkwardness was getting to him too.
"Yeah," I replied.
A silence, thick and heavy, falls over us again. Finally B.J. says "Oh hell. Hawkeye, come here."
I step closer to the bed and B.J. reaches up and pulls me into a surprisingly tight embrace. I return it, hesitantly at first, then more strongly.
I step back. "I uh…I missed you," I said.
"I missed you too. I meant to write, to call, but…" He shrugs. "It's too late now. I think not keeping in touch with you is number one on my list of regrets."
What can you really say to that? I didn't know then, and I don't know now. At the time, I said nothing.
I guess that's on my list of regrets.
We never talked about anything very important. It was awkward, almost all the time. At one point, we did discuss what happens after death. Beej was nearly asleep, and I doubt if he remembered it later.
"I believe, Hawk, I have to believe, that there is an afterlife. I couldn't take my own imminent death so well if there isn't. It's easier for Erin too. I can tell her that she'll see her Daddy again someday with a clear conscience."
"What about me?" I'd asked quietly.
"You'll see me too," he murmured. He'd fallen asleep shortly after.
About two weeks later, he died.
And now, forty years later, I sense that my own death is near. I've lived a pretty good life, certainly a long life since I'm nearly eighty. I only hope that B.J. was right, and there is an afterlife.
After all, I can't take my own imminent death so well if there isn't.