- In Love And War -
Chapter Thirteen: All Is Fair…
"You're an idiot," Trapper informed me.
"I know," I agreed patiently.
"You're throwing away your whole life."
"Probably."
"You'll never be happy."
"True."
"Nothing will ever come of it."
"Right."
"You're an idiot."
"You already said that."
"I want to make sure I get my point across."
We'd slipped into the empty O.R. for a bit of privacy—post-op was overflowing with nurses, and what I'd come to tell him wasn't exactly the sort of thing I wanted to be overheard. I'd also been a little uncertain of how Trapper would take the news—he'd been known to react violently, BJ's bruises case in point—and if he was going to punch me or molest me, both would be better done in private. So far, I'd been pleasantly surprised by his calmness, though he was as obstinate as ever.
"I told you," I said with a pointed glare towards his black eye and split lip, "I'm a grown man, and I will handle this by myself."
"You're not a grown man," he snorted. "You're short and scrawny, and I've never in my life seen a man that looks like you do."
"Fine, then I'm an adolescent cat—I'll still handle it by myself."
"Hawkeye, you're incapable of handling anything by yourself. We both know that. You need my help, whether you like it or not."
"I do not need your help!" I shouted. I then reminded myself that I was trying to keep this private, and lowered my voice to continue, "I know what I'm doing. It's my life, and I'll lead it how I want. This happens to be one of the ways in which I want to lead it. You can either let me do that, or we can keep arguing and destroy whatever's left between us."
He was silent for a little while, staring at me in surprise. "You're serious?"
"Yeah, I am. You have to choose. Let me live my life, and you can live it as my friend; or I still live my life, but without you."
"Has anyone told you how much of a bastard you are?"
"Not recently, no."
"Then it's about damn time. You're a bastard."
"Feel better?"
"A little. Kiss me and make it more better?"
"No," I said firmly, but I softened the words with a small smile. There could be no more of that, not anymore, not now that I had BJ… I stuck out my hand and asked hopefully, "Still friends?"
He looked down at my hand, and then ignored it to pull my into a bone-crushing hug. "You mean a lot to me, Hawkeye," he said softly. "I don't want to see you get hurt."
"You're hurting me!" I wheezed, and he loosened his hold. "I really do appreciate that, Trap, and you mean a lot to me, too—but that's just why you have to stay out of this! If you don't, I'll have to make you, and that would hurt more than anything BJ could ever do to me."
He pulled back to look me in the eye, his hands resting heavily on my shoulders. "I still think it's only because he's the puppy," he muttered. "It's puppy-love."
"It's not," I said patiently. "I'm too old for puppy love. I'm a lecherous old fox taking advantage of big blue puppy-eyes."
"I'm not gonna let this go. I don't want to see you hurt."
I sighed—it wasn't worth arguing with him. It was easier to just nod and smile, and agree that everything was okay between us, because if we said that everything was okay, than it must be true.
(AN: Just for kicks, we skip back to BJ's POV.)
I was lying on my bunk and flipping idly through a magazine, watching as Frank got all gussied up. "Got a hot date tonight, Frank?" I asked, not really caring but bored enough to ask.
He glanced over at me, and then grinned through his mask of shaving cream. "Well…yes, I do," he said proudly. For some reason, he seemed to believe I liked him more than Hawkeye or Trapper, and was almost pathetically eager to confide in me. "With a nurse. And not just any nurse…" He chuckled to himself, and I turned another page in the magazine. "The Chief Nurse."
I feigned as much shock as I could manage. "Margaret Houlihan?" I exclaimed.
"That's right," he said gleefully, flicking the razor across his cheek.
"But Frank, I thought you two had broken up!"
He turned to glare at me suddenly. "For your information, Nosy Nellie, we were never together. And we have not broken up!"
"I guess I've just been listening to too many rumors, then," I said wistfully, casting my magazine aside and stretching out on my cot, tucking my hands behind my head and staring up at the ceiling.
"What rumors?" he asked suspiciously.
"They were just rumors, Frank. They're obviously not true. I'd never believe you were capable of something like that."
"Something like what?" He was starting to sound nervous now, and I smiled to myself.
"I'm sure it's not true, Frank."
He crouched down next to my bed, looking very worried. "What is it? What is it?"
I rubbed my nose in order to hide my smirk, and gave him an innocent look. "Really, Frank, I wouldn't want to go propagating those sorts of cruel, unfair rumors. You know what they say, 'A slip of the lip can sink a ship'."
He seemed slightly taken aback at my throwing one of his own quotes back in his face, and he huffed angrily before returning to his shaving. With a small smile, I closed my eyes and listened to him finish his preparations. The Swamp seemed unusually quiet once he'd left; it was rare that I'd ever been alone in here before. It was almost lonely—I'd grown so used to the constant presence of other human beings over the past two months here, that to be alone was a little disconcerting. I'd used to take at least a half-hour every day to barricade myself in my office (back in the States, of course), just to be alone with my thoughts; now I was almost afraid of that happening, afraid of what kinds of thoughts would present themselves…
I heard the door open, but I kept my eyes closed; the steps were too heavy to be Frank's, and the person was too quiet to be Hawkeye, which left Trapper. My belief was confirmed when he started rummaging around near his bunk, and when he finally said, "I know you're not asleep, you know."
"Good for you," I muttered, keeping my eyes closed. He snorted, and kept on looking for whatever it was he was looking for. I cracked an eye open, saw him down on all fours, pushing his hands through the piles of detritus surrounding his cot. "I suppose Hawkeye's talked to you already?" I asked with mild curiosity and what was, admittedly, a smug air.
He pushed himself up, and came to hover menacingly at the side of my bunk. I stared calmly back at him while he said, "Yeah, he did. And I want to make sure you know that if you ever hurt him, in any way, I will personally hunt you down."
"I seem to remember him wanting you to keep your nose out of his business."
He glared down at me, his hands curling into fists. I thought for a moment he was going to throw himself at me; but then he said, softly, "I promised him I wouldn't attack you."
"And are you a man of your word, John McIntyre?"
"Yeah, yeah I am."
"What about your wife? Didn't you make some sort of promise to her to be faithful?"
His eyebrows shot up, and a smirk curled his lips. "Me? What about you? That ring on your finger says you made the same kind of promise."
I ground my teeth together, pushed myself up off the cot. "That's none of your business."
His smirk widened. "Hit a soft spot, did I? What's wrong, Beej?" he purred, using the name Hawkeye always used, turning the endearment into a taunt. "Feeling a little guilt?"
I stormed out of the Swamp before he could say any more—or before I was overpowered by the urge to punch his face in (again). It's not guilt, I told myself fiercely as I stomped out into the compound. I don't feel guilty—I have nothing to feel guilty about! I haven't betrayed Peg…
…Yet.
I still love her. I do. I just…it's like Hawkeye said, we're thousands of miles from home, and we get lonely sometimes. He's…so different, so unique, more so than anyone else I've ever met. What person could know Hawkeye and not be attracted to him? We…connect. I need human connection here, in this Hell, I need it to keep me sane, just like Hawkeye needs his insanity to stay sane. We all need our own little things to get through this, and I…I need him. If I have to explain it to Peg, she'll understand. I hope she will. She has to.
TBC