Title: Old Friends, New Lives - Part 2
Author: Lisa M
Pairing: BJ/Hawkeye
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything. Don't sue … no money. The lyrics are from "My Sacrifice" by Creed and they own it.
Archive: Anywhere, just let me know.
Feedback: Would be appreciated - good or bad.
Spoilers: A teeny tiny one for Goodbye, Farewell and Amen. But it shouldn't ruin the ep for you if you haven't seen it yet.
Summary: BJ and Hawkeye have crossed paths in Chicago - and have decided to finish something that was started almost 20 years before while they were in Korea.

A/N: There are some POV shifts in this section. It was done that way on purpose. I wanted poor Hawkeye to get in some time too.

The cab pulls up in front of the pub and we climb into the rear seat. I give the name of my hotel and sit back to enjoy the ride. BJ shifts slightly and moves closer to me. As soon as his shoulder touches mine, I flash back to Korea. The way we were always together. Inseparable. 'Siamese twins joined at the shoulders' as Margaret used to affectionately say. And it was true.

I turn my head and glance at him. His eyes meet mine and he gives me that same shy smile from all those years ago. My heart begins to pound and I return his smile. BJ places his hand on my thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. My hand covers his for a moment, but we both withdraw from each other.

The air within the vehicle warms as electricity passes between us. Thankfully, the ride is short, because by the time we arrive at the hotel, I feel like I'm about to spontaneously combust. My shirt is soaked with sweat and I'm so hard that I'm almost afraid to get out of the cab.

I toss the cabbie some money and notice that BJ is also having his own difficulties with exiting. I almost laugh, but I hold myself in check and fumble around in my now extremely tight front pants pocket for my room key. The lobby is empty, save for the clerk at the front counter. He nods as we walk by.

"What floor are you on?" BJ asks as we stand waiting for the elevator. He's rocking back and forth on his feet - heel, toe, heel, toe, heel, toe. It's slightly unnerving.

"Thirteen."

"That's a pretty unlucky number."

"We'll see about that," I mutter with a smirk. The doors open and we enter. They slip shut and BJ grabs me. He pushes me against the wall of the elevator, devouring my mouth with his. Twelve floors pass very quickly, but by the time the bell rings to signal our arrival at thirteen, BJ's lips have driven me to the point of panting. He releases me and I lead him to my room. My hand is shaking so badly that I can't get the key into the lock fast enough. I wind up dropping it to the floor, and quickly retrieve it, jamming it into its place.

The second the door closes behind us, I grab BJ by the front of his shirt and jerk him forward. I hear him gasp as my mouth closes over his. His body is tight and tense, but he gradually relaxes and folds against me. I feel his arms go around me, his hands balling into fists, my shirt woven tightly between his fingers. One quick tug upward and his hands are caressing the skin of my lower back. I place my hand on the back of his head and slide it into his wavy hair, deepening our kiss.

I press against BJ and, with minimal force, begin to lead him backwards out of the room. Moments later, we are in my bedroom. I keep walking until the backs of his knees connect with the bed. With one gentle shove, he tumbles onto it.

"That wasn't very nice," he says and props himself up on his elbows, fixing me with a smoldering gaze.

"Is nice what you want?"

BJ cocks his head to the side and studies me as I pull my shirt over my head. His eyes follow my fingers down to the button at the front of my pants. I push the small circular object through its hole and begin to lower the zipper. I pause halfway and lift my eyes. BJ smirks at me and abruptly sits. He grabs me and pulls me on top of him. We fall to the bed as one.

"No," he says, threading his slender fingers into my hair and pulling my mouth to his. "I want you."

Our lips meet in a crushing kiss. Clothes are removed and tossed unceremoniously to the floor. Two sets of hands and fingers roam and explore skin and muscle. We roll around on the bed like a couple of teenagers fumbling their way through their first time.

The room begins to spin and I realize that I can't breathe. No, it's not that I can't. I just haven't, and I'm not sure I want to. Breathing means pulling away from BJ which is the exact opposite of what I want. But, the doctor in my head knows I have to, so I break the kiss and inhale deeply. BJ flips to his side, rolling me onto mine, and props his face up on his hand. I glance over at him and smile.

"Hawk, before we go any further you need to know something. It's been a really long time since I've had sex. I'm not even sure I remember how. Not to mention the fact that I've never … been with another man before."

"Well, it's been a while for me too, Beej. I mean, I haven't been with a man since Trap …," I pause, a guilty expression forming on my face, and try to backtrack quickly. "I mean, I don't …"

"It's okay," he starts, placing a fingertip to my lips. "I know all about you and Trapper. You don't have to try and hide it, or lie about it, or even try to explain."

"How?"

"Come on, Hawk. Give me some credit. I figured it out. I mean, I felt it from the very first time we met. You were so upset that day you and Radar picked me up in Kimpo. 'Ten minutes' you kept saying over and over again. And there were times when you'd say his name in your sleep. That's not exactly something a 'friend' would do," he admits quietly and wraps his arms around me. "Eventually, you stopped talking about him, awake or asleep, and I'm assuming it was right around the same time that I became 'Beej' to you instead of just 'Captain BJ Hunnicutt, also known as Trapper's replacement'."

"You were never 'just' his replacement, Beej."

"Yes, I was and that's okay. I understood," BJ brushes a stray piece of hair away from my forehead and slides his hand down to cup my chin. "But, why didn't you tell me about the two of you?"

"I wasn't sure how," I lean into his touch.

"Well, usually you open your mouth and words come out."

"Ha ha ha. Funny."

"Sorry. It's just that in all the years I've known you, you've never been at a loss for words. Why were you that time?" BJ strokes his thumb along my jawline.

"I don't know. I guess I wasn't sure how you felt about stuff like that."

"Like … what?"

"Men being with other men, what."

"Oh, that."

"I didn't know how you'd react," I turn my head and place a quick kiss on the tip of his thumb.

"You felt that way even after that night?"

"Beej, do you remember what happened? What exactly happened that night?" I push away from him slightly, propping myself up on my elbow.

"Of course I do. We kissed."

"No, I kissed you."

"I kissed back!"

"Yes, you did. And then you jumped up and ran away and we never talked about it again," I say and sigh heavily, laying my head down on his chest. "After that, I was even less sure about bringing up Trapper's and my past activities."

"Do you want to talk about it now? I obviously have no issues concerning men being with other men, do I?"

I sense rather than see BJ's lips curl into that huge toothy smile that used to light up the 4077th -- even on the grayest of gray days. Any discomfort I may have been feeling evaporates in an instant.

"Not really. That's in the past and it never went anywhere beyond a physical thing anyway. Not like with …"

"Me?" BJ says in a playful tone and I glance up at him. He bats his eyelashes at me and I laugh. I shift my body so I'm laying on top of him again, and I kiss him gently.

"Trapper's nothing like you," I whisper against his hair.

BJ pulls my mouth back to his and my heart quickens, familiar heat pooling between us. I break from him and move my lips to his collarbone. His back arches when I begin to suck at his skin. I move down his body, lips, tongue and hands mapping out every inch of his tan skin. I inhale the scent of BJ - light soap, fading musky cologne, and that sun-kissed summer smell that is pure California. I feel his fingers tangle into my hair, wrapping within the strands.

When my mouth closes over his erection, his body goes rigid, back arching, breath catching. Smiling slightly, I take him all the way in, swallowing him whole. BJ groans deeply as I begin to slide up and down his length. Within moments, the veins beneath the skin of his silky member are pulsing hotly. I pull away before he goes over the edge and he growls in frustration.

"Haaaaawk," he begs.

"Not yet," I whisper and crawl up his body. Positioning myself between his legs, I slide my fingers over his entrance and BJ tenses. "Beej, relax," I sigh against his chest. "I promise I won't hurt you."

BJ's muscles loosen and I slowly insert one, then two fingers into him. Air hisses out between his teeth, but as I slide my fingers out and back in, his body responds to me. I remove my fingers and gently roll him onto his side. I settle in behind him and place the tip of my penis at his entrance. Carefully, I push into him. He groans softly - a mixture of pain and pleasure evident in the sound.

"Slowly, Hawk."

I do as he asks and slide into him, inch by inch, slowly, until I'm fully inside him. He's warm and tight and every cell in my body is screaming for me to just take him. But I don't. I ignore the swirling lust within me and wait for him to get used to my intrusion. Only when he begins to move against me, do I even start to thrust.

I pump into him as I wrap my hand around his erection. It's over pretty quickly - it's been a while, remember? BJ comes first - panting and moaning, spilling his silken seed into my grasp. I follow moments later, his name slipping from my lips in a breathy sigh.

"My God."

"I know, Beej. I know."

BJ turns over and folds me into his arms. Sated, we fall asleep, wrapped around each other, sticky and sweaty, and not really giving a crap. The mess can wait.

"Dad? ... Hey, it's me. … Yeah, I know it's late. I just wanted to let you know that I'm gonna stay in Chicago for a few extra days. Could you do me a favor and reschedule all of my appointments for the week? ... Uh huh. .. Great. Oh, and call Erin too? ... Okay. … Thanks. ... Yeah, I will. Bye, dad."

I lean over Hawkeye's naked body and drop the handset back into its cradle. Curling my body against him, my lips caress the smooth skin at the base of his neck. He groans in appreciation and arches his back into me. My rapidly growing erection presses against him.

"Mmmmmm. So soon?" he mumbles, grinding his tailbone into my pelvis.

"Can't. seem. to. get. enough." My words are punctuated with small kisses to his shoulders.

"I really should call," his voice chokes off as I wrap my hand around his penis. "Charles."

"Okay," I whisper against his ear. "But don't expect me to wait while you're doing it."

Hawkeye leans over and dials Charles' phone number. As soon as he has the headset at his ear, I pull him back to me and immediately place my hand on him again.

"Charles, it's Hawkeye. … Yes, of course I can tell time. … No, I haven't lost my mind. Yet," he adds under his breath as I tighten my grip on him and begin pumping along his length. I slide my solidness between the tight globes of his buttocks and tease his entrance with the tip. He gasps and throws his head back onto my shoulder.

"Look, Charles, I don't need a lecture on time zones right now! I'm just calling to let you know," he inhales sharply as I push into him slowly. "Uh … what? … No, I'm not sick. You're imagining things. … My breathing? … Oh that. Something startled me, that's all. … It's BJ. … Yeah, he's here at the conference, too. He just walked back in the room. … No. He went to get us some food. … When he opened the door, it startled me."

I begin to move in and out of him.

"Oh, my God," Hawkeye's free hand clutches at the sheet in front of him. "What? … BJ really brought a lot of … food. For us. … Really? Why? … Okay, hang on a sec." Hawkeye holds the phone against the pillow and turns his head to face me. "He wants to talk to you."

"What? Why?" I go still behind him and he groans.

"God, don't stop," he hisses and pushes against me. I slide out of him and push back in as hard as I can. He groans again, very loudly, and his muscles clench around me.

"How's that?" I ask and repeat the thrust. The phone slips out of his hand and clatters to the floor.

"Damn!" He reaches out, grabs the cord and pulls it back to his side. "Here," he says gritting his teeth and holding the receiver over his shoulder. I release his erection and take the phone. He sighs in frustration.

"Sorry, but I only have one available hand." I clear my throat. "Chuck! Hey, how are you, buddy? Long time no see. … What? … Oh, sorry about that. My hand was … slippery. From the food. I dropped the phone. Greasy take out, you know. … Hmm? … Yeah. … Yeah." I laugh and Hawkeye glances over his shoulder at me, a confused expression on his face. "I think I can manage to do that for you. No, it … uh … won't be a problem. … What? … Sure thing. Hang on."

I tuck the receiver into my pillow and brush my lips over Hawkeye's ear.

"He wants to talk to you again," I breathe, nibbling at the lobe of sensitive flesh. A guttural rumble in the back of his throat and a shake of his head are his only answers. I place the phone against my ear. "Sorry, Charles. He's in the bathroom. … Yeah, he said something about … pressure. In his bowels." Hawkeye laughs softly and I bump him with my elbow. "Uh huh. … Okay. Don't worry. He's in good hands. … Yep. … Good talking to you, too. … Okay, Charles. Bye."

"What, may I ask, are you going to do for him?"

"He thinks you've lost it. Cracked up. Went bonkers. So he told me to keep an eye on you. Make sure that you don't spend all of your money on poker and booze and women of ill-repute." I toss the phone and it bangs against the nightstand, then falls to the floor. My hand returns to his groin and my lips to his back. "I don't think that's going to be an issue. Do you?"

That first night is spent talking and laughing and, well, doing other things - if you understand my meaning. When the sun rises in the morning, I drag myself out of Hawkeye's warm arms, head to my hotel, pack my stuff, check out and rush right back to this very room.

The next few days fly past. We spend our mornings and afternoons at the conference; though, we learned very quickly that we have to sit on opposite sides of the room. If we don't, we're both so aroused - just from being next to each other - that neither of us can concentrate on anything. And the techniques we are here to learn are actually important to both of our careers.

Evenings are spent in the hotel room. Sometimes, we do some of the normal touristy stuff. I've never been to Chicago, and since Hawkeye has, he shows me around a little. Personally, I'd have been happy to stay in bed and order room service, but he tells me that there was no way he'd let me come to Chicago and not taste 'Adam's ribs'. I don't argue with him.

I can't remember a time when I've been happier, more content, than I am during these seven days. When the last one finally comes, I beg Hawkeye to stay here, in the room, with me. And he does. Both of us know that our time together is coming to an end. As the hours pass, the silence between our couplings grows deeper and sadder. All I can do is pull Hawkeye close and hold him tight - and pray for time to slow down.

"Hey," Hawkeye says as he traces lazy circles on my chest. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," I reply and run my fingers through his silky hair.

"Where do we go from here?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what now?"

"I don't know," I try and keep my voice neutral, but I can hear a slight trembling in my words. My body begins to tense and I will it to stop.

"That's not an answer, Beej."

"It's the only one I can give you," I cringe inwardly at the hollowness of my words.

"That's not good enough," he snaps back and rolls away from me. With a frustrated sigh, he stands and walks over to the window. I follow his lead, and push myself up and off the bed. I approach him slowly.

"What do you want me to say, Hawk? What do you want from me?"

"What do I want?" He spins around to face me, eyes blazing with anger. "I want to know that you're not going to walk away from me, again. That the last seven days have meant something to someone other than me."

"Hawk," I start, reaching out to place my hand on his shoulder. He bats it away roughly.

"Don't touch me. Not right now."

"Fine," I say and cross my arms over my bare chest. "Whatever you want." My own anger is beginning to build. I can feel it coiling deep within me. And I know that it's reflected in my eyes. I've never been very good at concealing my emotions from him.

"Don't you dare get mad at me, BJ Hunnicutt! You have no right. You," he punctuates each word by jabbing at my ribcage with his fingertip. "Aren't the one who's had to sit in the background all these years. And you aren't the one who's had to hide or ignore his feelings." A sharp sob escapes him and he turns his back on me once again. "You aren't the one who was left behind."

"And you don't know how wrong you are."

"About what exactly?"

"You aren't the only one who had to hide their feelings. Ignore them. But, what was I supposed to do, Hawk? Abandon my family?" I'm trying as hard as I can to control my anger, but I can't. "What kind of man would that have made me?"

"I never asked you to leave anyone," Hawkeye's words are short and tight. "All I wanted was some sign that you cared. In Korea, I understood why you couldn't give me that. Why you couldn't be with me. But you don't have that to hide behind anymore."

"They're still my family." Hawkeye laughs sharply. "What's that laugh supposed to mean?"

"Family? BJ, you told me that you can barely stand to be in the same room with Peg. And Erin," his words are dripping with sarcasm. "How much longer do you think your teenaged daughter is going to want to be 'daddy's little girl'?"

"Keep them out of this, Hawkeye. Just because I don't give a hang about my ex-wife, doesn't mean you can pull her into this. And Erin is still my daughter. She will always be my daughter, no matter how old she gets. I won't leave her for anyone," I sigh sadly and turn away from him. "I love you, Hawk. God help me, I do. But I can't leave Mill Valley. I just can't. Not even for you."

Hawkeye doesn't say a word. I find my clothes, get dressed and quickly pack my things. All of this is done in stony silence. Waves of hostility are flowing off of my friend and crashing against me. I feel the tears welling in my eyes and force them to remain unshed. I glance in his direction one final time.

"I'm sorry, Hawkeye."

I close the door behind me and lean against it. A single tear runs down my cheek and splashes on the back of my hand. I reach up and angrily brush the moisture from my face.

"Damn it!" I say to the empty hall, and as I turn to leave, I wonder if I'm making another huge mistake.

I've been back for well over a month now, and everything I ever loved about Mill Valley, about my home, only makes me feel more alone. More isolated. I can't concentrate. I have no focus. I find myself drifting, daydreaming, thinking of far away places. Of Chicago. Of Crabapple Cove.

And of Hawkeye.

Numerous letters, far too many to count, have been started, then crumpled and thrown into the trash. The telephone has been picked up, the number dialed. Then the moment a voice is heard on the other side of the line, the phone is placed back into its cradle.

I don't know why I always run. I ran from Peg in the beginning. I ran from Hawkeye … twice.

I turn my head and glance at the small photo I now keep on my desk. Hawk and me standing at the perfect spot on Navy Pier so that the sun is setting behind us. It is a snapshot of one moment of pure happiness. I trace my fingertip over Hawkeye's image, a smile playing at the corners of my mouth.

For the life of me, I can't figure out what I'm so afraid of.

It's been two months since Chicago. Two months and I can still hear the sound of that door closing behind him. The feel of the carpet as I collapsed to my knees the moment he was gone. The ache inside of me when I realized that this time it was for good. I would never see BJ Hunnicutt again.

I've been working non-stop since then, burying myself so deeply, trying in vain to forget that day, that week. The sound of us. The smell of us. The unquenchable desire inside of me for something I should have known I could never truly have.

Charles is worried about me. I know he is. He comes to my office, checking on me regularly, asking if I need to talk. Offering his ear. My answer is always no. How could he even begin to understand? Homosexuality, in his eyes, is an abomination. And, while he is my friend, it would be unacceptable to him. He would never say a word to anyone - I'm sure of that, but our relationship would be undoubtedly damaged.

And now that BJ is gone, Charles is my final lifeline.

I guess he's finally had enough of me, because today, he calls me into his office for a meeting.

"You are sullen. You are moody," Charles is ticking reasons off with his fingers. "You are on the verge of burnout. No one can take you anymore. Take some time off, Pierce."

"I don't need …" He holds up his hand, effectively cutting me off.

"It is not a suggestion."

"You pulling rank on me, Major? You do realize that we aren't in Korea anymore, right?"

"Ha! You never followed orders when we were in Korea. Why would I expect anything different now? But I am insisting that you go home. As a colleague and a friend. You have been very out of sorts since returning from Chicago. I am extremely worried about you."

"I'm fine," I say, cringing inwardly at the falseness of my words. "But since you asked so nicely."

"Thank you."

I nod and stand to leave. Reaching out, I grasp his hand and we shake. As I move to pull away, his grip on me tightens.

"Hawkeye," he says, the obvious worry etched into his clear blue eyes. "If you need anything …"

"I know."

A soft knocking on the front door wakes me from my nap. A quick glance at the clock tells me it's just about 4:30pm. I've slept longer than I'd planned - but I was dreaming.

About him.

Slowly, I stand and rub the slumber from my eyes. The tapping, more insistent this time, forces me into motion.

"Coming," I shout and wrap my robe around myself. "Give an old man a second."

I grasp the knob and turn it. The door swings inward.

"What can I do for …," my voice dies in my throat.

"Hawk."

One word. That single-syllable shortening of my name. I've heard it countless times. So simple. But on his lips, spoken so quietly, so reverently, it's anything but simple.

"I'm sorry," BJ has tears in his eyes. "I'm so sorry."

He pulls me into a crushing embrace, his hands slipping into my hair. Warm words brush against my skin, but as much as I want to, I can't seem to raise my own arms to return his gesture. Instead, I back away slightly and his grip loosens.

"Beej, I can't …" Words fail me. I lift my eyes to his and what I see reflected in those crystal blue ovals stills any uncertainty - any doubt I may have had. "You know what? I don't care. The only thing that matter is that you're here."

My lips cover his.

When you are with me, I'm free.
I'm careless, I believe.

The End