- In Love And War -
Chapter Twenty-Six: Need

Luckily for me, BJ was the only one in the Swamp again—Sherman had assigned Burns to post-op, since he was the only surgeon who wasn't at present physically or emotionally handicapped (though that was arguable, as Trapper had pointed out), and Trapper was probably still with Sherman. BJ was laying on his cot and reading, but looked up from the journal when I said, "Are you busy, BJ? I'd like to talk with you again."

"Oh, so someone finally wants to talk to me! What's going on Sidney? No one will tell me anything, they just get pale and panicky—"

"There's been a small problem," I interrupted calmly.

"A problem?" he repeated. "What kind of problem?"

"One of the Hawkeye variety."

"Hawkeye? What happened?"

"He decided the world would be a better place without him in it."

BJ blanched, eyes widening and face going pale. "He…oh, God—is he all right?"

"He's fine now, physically. Mentally and emotionally…not so much."

He scrubbed his face with his hands, and I felt a brief stab of guilt—there were kinder ways to tell a person his friend had tried to kill himself, but I needed an emotional reaction from him now, wanted to shock him into confirming Hawkeye's story and giving his own version of it. There were tears in his voice when he whispered, "How did…what…?"

"We put him in Major Houlihan's tent, for privacy; he found some of her peroxide, but he didn't swallow enough to do any serious damage. I've convinced him, for now at least, that his life is worth living, and he decided to confide in me."

BJ looked up at me. "He told you?"

"He did. I thought I'd come get your side of it before I made any judgements. Whatever you tell me, I will repeat to no one—unless it will help me help Hawkeye."

"I don't like psychiatrists," he said softly, staring up at the ceiling.

"I get that a lot."

He was silent for a long time, but I waited patiently; I knew he would tell me, he was probably just trying to decide where to begin. And he finally did: "I have a wife. A baby—she's just barely six months old. I love them both. But Hawkeye…he's different than any other person I've ever met. He's…"

He looked like he was struggling for the right word, so I suggested, "Extraordinary?"

"Incredible. Astonishing. Unprecedented. I…I care about him more deeply than I've ever cared for any other person or thing, Peg and Erin included." He looked at me, meeting my eyes, daring me to mock him, anticipating the same judgement Hawkeye had. Unblinking, he said with the most conviction I'd ever heard in my life, "I love him."

"Then why did you push him away?" I asked softly, and he looked away from me, his cheeks reddening.

"I had to."

"You had to?" I repeated.

"I owed a debt to someone. That was the price. 'Stay away from him'. So I did. I am. I hate it, but…what choice do I have?"

"Trapper?"

He knuckled his eyes, his despair evident. "He saved my life. I was buried, pinned down, no way out, bleeding, probably getting low on air; he found me. I owe my life to him, and I promised to pay him back. He never liked me—I think he felt like I was taking Hawkeye away from him or something. He thinks I'll just abandon Hawkeye after this damn war's over, and leave him heartbroken—so, to avoid that, he decided it would be best if I broke Hawk's heart now, before we'd become 'too attached'."

"Are you?" I asked. "Going to leave him after the war?"

He looked aghast. "No."

"What about your wife and baby?"

"Hawkeye matters more to me than they do."

"Then can I point out where you made a mistake?" He waved his hand vaguely in permission. "By telling him that you no longer wished to see him, I think you may have lead him to believe you hated him."

He sneered. "You must've had to take a lot of college to figure that out. What else could I have done, Sidney? I owe Trapper my life, and I'm a man of my word."

I raised my eyebrows slightly. "That begs the question: if you're a man of your word—and I truly mean no offense, BJ—what about the vows you made to your wife? If you truly wished to remain with Hawkeye after the war, what were you planning to do about your marriage?"

"I…I never really thought about it. I didn't want to think about it." But he was thinking about it now, I could see that in his face. "I've been over here about four months, and I've survived without Peg for all that time. I can function when I'm not around her, I don't need her presence constantly. But Hawkeye…" He met my eyes. "I don't think I could live without him."

"I would suggest you tell him that before he decides you can live without him."

"Trapper…?"

"I'll talk to him. Maybe I can help him to think of a better way for you to pay your debt."

I helped BJ up to his feet and steadied him on his crutches, walking with him to the VIP tent. Trapper was hovering nearby, and I stepped between the two of them before they could start so much as a staring contest. I myself looked significantly at Trapper, hoping to convey whatever it was I was trying to convey, and then opened the door for BJ, who limped slowly inside.

Hawkeye hadn't moved since I'd left him, and he didn't bother opening his eyes to ask dully, "Well?"

"I brought something for you," I said. "I know it's a little early, but consider it my Christmas present to you."

Voice thick, BJ whispered, "Hawkeye."

His eyes flew open, and I think he nearly sprained something as he hastily scrambled to his knees in the center of the bed, gaping; BJ lifted an arm, fingers reaching out towards Hawkeye; and the man flinched as if he'd been struck and scuttled backwards, over the edge of the bed to sit against the far wall, wide, terrified eyes dominating his pale face. BJ looked like a man tortured, his arm dropping back to his side as he bit his lower lip.

I decided it was probably time to intervene. I went over and crouched down next to Hawkeye, resting a hand lightly on his shoulder. "Talk to him, Hawkeye," I whispered, so only he could hear me. "Tell him what you told me, and listen to him."

He clutched frantically at my arm as I started to rise. "Don't leave—"

"You'll be fine, Hawkeye. You're stronger than you think you are." His fingers slipped from my arm and I walked back to BJ, repeating the words I'd said to Hawkeye: "Tell him what you told me, and listen to him. You may have to be the first one to talk. Have faith in your feelings." And before he could protest my leaving, I slipped out the door.

Trapper was there instantly, demanding, "What's going on?"

I spoke briefly to the two guards outside the tent, told them that their services were no longer necessary; then I turned to Trapper and calmly explained, "I'm trying to fix the damage."

"How come you wouldn't let me see him, but you'll let Hunnicutt?"

I tilted my head at him slightly. "You didn't do the damage," I lied. "Hawkeye needed to see the one who did."

There it was—guilt, seen clearly in the way he averted his eyes, and the faint blush creeping up his neck. "Yeah, well…"

"If Hawkeye is going to make it through this, he'll need faithful, caring friends at his side, people he can count on. You."

He stared hard at me for a minute, then grimaced. "Hunnicutt told you."

"He did," I agreed with a nod. Our relative silence was interrupted by a crash from inside the VIP tent, and the distinct sound of sobbing; Trapper had started for the door, but I grabbed his arm, holding him back. "They'll be fine," I said confidently. "It's you I'm worried about right now."

"Me?" he repeated distractedly, staring over my shoulder at the tent.

With a sigh, I grabbed his arm again and pulled him away from the tent, outside the official boundaries of the camp where we might have some privacy. There, with Trapper relatively free from distraction, I asked him, "Did you really think it would work? That Hawkeye wouldn't be hurt by it?"

"I thought—it was just a stupid little crush. Hunnicutt was leading him on. Yeah, I knew it'd hurt Hawkeye, but it'd of hurt him more if it'd gone on for longer. I was doin' him a favor."

He believed that to be true, and I couldn't really blame him. It was hard to lose a best friend (or to feel as though you were losing one), especially in this place where we all needed human connections to keep us sane. He saw it as BJ stealing Hawkeye from him, and manufactured a reason to justify separating them. He was a victim as much as the other two. "They need each other, Trapper," I said softly. "Hawkeye was ready to kill himself because he thought he'd lost BJ. BJ more or less told me that he would willingly leave his wife and child for Hawkeye." He seemed shocked by that, but the shock quickly dissolved into a refusal to believe—he wouldn't believe it as truth until he heard it from Hawkeye's mouth. That was fair. "Which brings us to what I wanted to talk to you about. BJ feels obligated to pay his debt to you, which will prevent him from helping with Hawkeye's healing process. I won't delude you—it's my belief that if they're not allowed to…develop, Hawkeye will attempt to kill himself again. I was hoping you and I could think of a different way in which BJ could repay you for his life."

Trapper turned away from me, his shoulders hunched—against the cold, maybe, but I didn't think so. "So you're saying Hawk doesn't need me anymore. He's got BJ, so all I have to do is step back and let them do what they want."

"That is not what I'm saying. You're Hawkeye's rock—you keep him grounded, and he needs that more than anything right now. BJ can't replace you, he just…fills a spot that you can't, just as you fill spots he can't. Hawkeye needs both of you, different parts of both of you. He needs to be able to love BJ, and to know that he can lean on you if anything ever goes wrong. Can you understand that?"

"I never liked sharing as a kid," he mumbled. "That's probably got some deep psychological meaning, right?"

I shrugged, smiling faintly. "Sexual repression, most likely, or something else sex-related. Everything's about sex."

"Don't I know it." He sighed heavily, rubbing his face with his mittened hands. "It feels like I'm giving up. Like I've lost."

"If you want my professional opinion, this battle between yourself and BJ seems to have become more about the competition itself than about the 'prize'." He opened his mouth, as if to argue that he hadn't been treating Hawkeye like a prize to be won; but he thought better of it, and grimaced instead, nodded reluctantly. "You're both extremely competitive, neither of you wanting to give up. So, we must find a solution that will satisfy the needs of everyone involved."

"He doesn't need to 'pay me back'. The day I found him, I was sure he was either dead or AWOL; I only looked for him because Hawkeye wouldn't've been satisfied 'til he saw Hunnicutt's body, and wouldn't've forgiven me if I hadn't helped him. Hunnicutt doesn't owe me anything."

"Make sure you tell him that. I'm going to want to talk to the both of you, together and separately, once we get the Hawkeye situation resolved."

"Yeah, I figured." He tilted his head slightly at me, a small smile forming. "D'you ever have a boring day, Sidney?"

I laughed. "Not when I'm here."

Hawkeye

"Talk to him, Hawkeye. Tell him what you told me, and listen to him," Sidney whispered, and started to get up; I grabbed his arm, my mind babbling frantically, and begged him not to leave, please, don't leave me alone with him, I can't— "You'll be fine, Hawkeye. You're stronger than you think you are."

Was I? Was I really? Since when? I, personally, thought I was about as strong as a tiny little turtle lying on its back, but Sidney seemed to think otherwise. That was silly of him.

He went to whisper something to BJ—BJ, who I couldn't even look at without feeling like my heart was encircled by a noose—and then he was gone, and we were alone, and what was left of my mind was trying to claw its way out from the inside, and I pulled my knees up to my chest and curled into the fetal position—it was the way we all started out, it seemed appropriate that I end this way, too, since my whole world was ending. He was coming towards me, slowly, painfully, and some part of my mind was screaming that he shouldn't be on crutches yet, he should still have people half-carrying him, or at least someone to support him, catch him if he fell… And then he did fall, was falling, but I wasn't sure if it was intentional or not, since he landed on his uninjured right side, next to me, and scrabbled frantically to grab one of my hands in both of his, whispering my name until I finally convinced myself that I could look at him without my chest collapsing in upon itself. My eyes met his, and I saw the tears there, realized there were tears in my own eyes, and I felt myself melting just like I always did when I saw those eyes, and I looked away, feeling lost, confused, angry… Fingers brushed against the side of my face, pushing my hair back, running down my cheek, and a hitching sob broke out of my chest, followed an instant later by the whole spectrum of human emotion, bursting out of me like some hideous creature, and I threw myself at him, crushing our mouths together and then shoving him back onto the floor, jumping to my feet and flinging myself away, grabbing the chair and methodically smashing it against the floor, and then crumpling down to the ground, despair clawing at my stomach, and I felt like I was going to be sick if there'd been anything to empty from my stomach, so I made up for it by curling into a ball and sobbing, sobbing like I'd never sobbed before, all the emotion draining away, and I was sure it would leave me emptier than before, completely hollow, sinking deeper and deeper into the blackness, into the madness, but hands grabbed my head and I broke free, broke through the surface and pulled in a gasping breath, clutching at the hands, the arms, the chest that held me, saved me, kept me from sinking back down, pulled me into the protective circle of strong arms and whispered "I'm so sorry"s and lips against my hair and hands holding me tightly with the promise of never letting go, holding the darkness at bay, pushing it farther and farther back until it was little more than a memory, a bad dream, and all that mattered were the lips moving slowly over my face and whispering, "I love you…"