- In Love And War -
Chapter Eight: Sleep

I slept. And when I was done doing that, I slept a little more. And then, just to spice things up, I dozed off before sleeping. And after all that, I ate. No food-sniffing—just shovel everything in as fast as possible. Then tip back over for a little more sleep.

It was the morning of my second day of blessed house-arrest when I finally swung my legs over the side of the bed and stretched, my spine popping. "Well, look who it is!" BJ called cheerfully from where he was reading a letter on his cot. "Welcome back to the world, Sleeping Beauty."

"Is the war over yet?" I groaned.

"Sorry—I tried, but they wouldn't take spam as bribery."

"Snobs." I shoved my hands back through my hair and yawned a jaw-popping yawn.

The door opened and I twisted around to see good old Ferret-face, standing in the doorway and looking as smug as a cat with a mouthful of feathers. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the indestructible Captain Pierce. I hear you're not so indestructible after all. What happened, Pierce?"

"Frank, I'm glad you're here. There's something I've wanted to tell you for a long time."

"What's that, Pierce?" he asked with one of his typical grins.

"Go headbutt a bullet."

Frank huffed, snatched a few things off his bed, and stormed back outside.

"Violence doesn't suit you, you know," BJ said mildly.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "I get grumpy when I'm sleepy."

"I like you better as the other five dwarves."

"I'm a little dopey right now, if that helps." I yawned again, and heaved myself up to my feet, walking around to loosen up. "I miss anything exciting?"

"Corporal Adamson fell into the cesspool."

I gave a snort of laughter. "He obviously had a very shitty day."

"I knew you would say that!" BJ groaned. "One of Radar's rabbits escaped, and he had the whole camp searching for it. Trapper was the one who finally found her—in the latrine. Ask him about his battle wound. Mail finally came in—Radar put yours…somewhere…"

"It'll find me," I said confidently. "Any wounded?"

"A few civilians who stumbled on a minefield. Luckily for them, their dog stumbled on it first, so they didn't sustain any serious damage. A kid who tripped over his buddy and fell into a foxhole. The kid's buddy, who fell in after him. Nothing much."

"How's, uh…Taylor, my kid Taylor. How is he?"

"Sent him out on the evac chopper yesterday. It was—"

I never found out what it was, because Potter chose that moment to enter stage right with a gruff, "Glad to see you back on your feet, Pierce, 'cause I'm gonna break 'em both."

"Ah, Colonel, can I interest you in some tenth-class gin?"

"No, Pierce, but you can sit your butt down, pronto!"

There was a time for jokes and lighthearted tomfoolery, and there was a time for sitting one's butt down and behaving, and I was lucid enough to recognize that this particular time was among the latter. So I sat down on my bunk like a good little boy, my hands folded between my knees, and looked innocently up at Potter.

He sighed heavily. "Pierce, I've said it before, and I'll say it again—you're damn lucky you're such a good surgeon, or the army would've had you hanged long ago. I talked to Sam Harbourn, convinced him you're not worth the trouble of pressing charges against, and he's promised not to have you drawn and quartered so long as you never set foot in his camp again."

"That's fine by me, Colonel." More than fine—it was just peachy. "I think I can abide by that."

Potter glared at me for a moment more; and then his lips curved slowly into a smile. "Did you really call him a pompous ass?" I nodded solemnly, and Potter chuckled. "You've got spunk, Hawkeye, I'll give you that. Just, in the future, try to think before you go around offending the brass. Your actions reflect directly back on the camp and on me, and if they get too many bad reports on the conduct of officers here at the 4077, well…it wouldn't be the first time the army reassigned men. As long as you keep your nose clean for the next few months, this should all blow over. Now, what about—"

It was a day of interruptions—the sound of choppers overhead, and the call to arms: "Wounded in the compound and on the helipad. Both shifts to triage."

A collective sigh. "No rest for the weary," I mumbled, pushing my stiff bones up again.

"Well, they say the wicked don't rest, either," BJ pointed out. As if that was supposed to make me feel better.

Seven hours' work, and we could stumble back to the Swamp, Trapper with us this time. A little nightcap, and then we all hit the figurative hay (which would probably have been more comfortable than the bunks). What should have been a full night's sleep for me, however, was interrupted by a nudge on my shoulder and a whispered, "Move over."

I lifted my head, blinking blue-eyed dreams from my own eyes, and asked in a soft, incredulous half-mumble, half-whine, "Trap? What're you doing?"

"Whaddya think I'm doin'?" he growled softly, lifting up my blanket and trying to crawl under it.

Suddenly very awake, I planted my hand on his chest to hold him at bay, and hissed, "No, Trapper. BJ—"

"Is sleeping like a baby. C'mon, Hawk…"

Was it just my imagination, or did Trapper lately—'lately' as in, ever since BJ had arrived—seem even randier than usual? No, it couldn't be my imagination—I had no imagination when I was this tired. I'd have to sit him down and have a long talk with him…later. At the present moment, however, he'd managed to get a hold on a rather sensitive part of anatomy that, lately, had been doing most of my thinking for me. With a brief and flippant What the hell? to myself, I grabbed Trapper and pulled him onto the bunk. I was awake enough for some hip-grinding and a little hand-to-cock combat, and it was easier to let Trapper have his fun than to argue with him. Plus, the quicker I gave myself over to my lusty comrade, the quicker I could go back to sleep.

But there was a nagging little voice in the back of the place that used to think for me, a voice that whispered how stupid I was being, reminded me of the sort of risks I was taking: with the focus of my entire being shifting rapidly towards BJ, didn't it seem just a little foolish to be groping someone who was distinctly not BJ? Yes, it seemed very foolish—but I was a man of instant gratification. I'd talk to Trapper tomorrow, end this…whatever…between us, and pursue other whatevers, with people who distinctly were BJ.

It was, of course, even more foolish of me to think that it would work.

TBC