Note: Time lapse! I guess you could call this chapter a "missing scene" from "Goodbye, Farewell, and Amen"—it takes place after the scene where everyone's in surgery listening to the radio, where we hear that peace has finally been reached. For convenience, we'll fill the black hole of time lapse with canon: Radar left and Klinger took over for him, all your favorite post-Trapper, post-Frank episodes took place, BJ grew his stupid mustache, yadda, yadda.

- In Love And War -
Chapter Thirty-Four: Over

I walked slowly out of OR, tiredly dragging my scrub cap off and stopping to stare down at it. BJ stopped, too, and joined me in staring at the piece of white fabric.

"It's over," I said, soft, surprised. "That was the last of it. The last too-young soldier I'll ever operate on over here."

"It's over," BJ repeated wonderingly.

"Over."

"Pierce, Hunnicutt," Charles drawled tiredly from behind us, "is there any particular reason we're blocking the doorway?"

"It's over."

"Yes, Pierce, we are all aware of the fact. Now please get out of my way—I'd like to finish packing."

"Charles, don't you understand?" I demanded. "The war is over. That was the last OR session we'll ever have in Korea. It's—"

He shoved me inelegantly out of the way and stalked off to the Swamp.

Another voice came from behind, that of a weary, aging man who'd seen more than enough of war: "Hawkeye, BJ…could I ask a favor of you…one civilian to another?"

BJ smiled faintly as we turned to face Potter. "Of course."

"As long as it doesn't involve moving," I added.

"I-Corps wants a final inventory before we pack everything up; I'd ask Margaret to get some of her nurses to do it, but…"

"We'd be happy to help," BJ said firmly.

With a relieved smile, Potter said, "Thanks, boys. I appreciate it."

He walked slowly towards his office, and as soon as he was out of earshot, I asked BJ, "We're happy to help?"

"We need to talk."

"Oh. Then I guess we're happy to help."

We spent the first few minutes in the supply tent actually taking inventory and not saying much of anything; I happened to glance over at him and found that he was leaning against one of the shelves and staring at me very intently. I cleared my throat and asked neutrally, "So, what do we need to talk about?"

"The war's over."

"It is," I agreed.

"We need to talk about what we're going to do."

My heart started beating a panicky tempo. I'd been expecting this for the past few days—"It's been fun, but I changed my mind. I'm going back to my wife and baby. Sorry." I set my clipboard down on top of a crate of gloves and took a deep, bracing breath, crossing my arms over my chest and meeting his stare. To my surprise, he reached out to grab my elbow and lead me back towards the cot wedged between the two stacks of crates, and we sat at either end of the cot, leaning against the crates, our legs filling the space between us.

"I figure," he said, rubbing idly at the fingers of my right hand, which he'd firmly claimed within both of his, "that I'll head back to Mill Valley…" I nodded solemnly, not meeting his eyes—unable to. "Uh, Hawk…is there something wrong?"

I forced myself to look up and smile bravely. "No. It's fine. I…I understand."

He frowned, his eyes narrowing. "I'm…not quite sure we're both on the same page here…"

"We are," I assured him, vowing to maintain an air of nonchalance until I could go crawl off in a private corner to nurse my grief. "I can't say that I'm not…surprised, but I have kinda been…expecting it."

He leaned forward, reaching out to grab my chin and forcing me to meet his eyes. "Expecting what?"

"You…going back to Mill Valley…"

He looked utterly perplexed. "To explain to Peg that I'll be moving to Crabapple Cove."

I blinked, my jaw slipping open a little bit to form the "O" I couldn't give voice to, since my throat had closed up. After a little more gaping, I managed an, "Urk," which was about as close to words as I could get right now.

"What did you think I meant?" Realization dawned. "You…you thought I was…leaving you?"

I had to clear my throat and tear my eyes away from his before I could find words again: "In my defense, I haven't had breakfast yet. My…my brain's working a little slow."

"No kidding," he mumbled, and then reached out to pull me against him, my back to his chest, his arms wrapped tightly, securely around me. "Didn't we talk about this before? That whole 'I'm not leaving you' fiasco we had a few months back? I thought we had this settled."

"I…forgot…"

"You forgot." He sighed, his breath ruffling my hair, and then nuzzled my neck. "Then I'd better remind you. I'm not leaving you. There. That better?"

"Technically, though, you are leaving me…"

"Temporarily. In order to make my not leaving you permanent. I go to Mill Valley, explain everything to Peg, and then come to Crabapple Cove."

"Everything?"

"Well, as much as she needs to know. I probably won't go into details, since something tells me there are a few people out there who wouldn't approve of this sort of thing."

"Strange, and I thought we were hiding out in here just for the hell of it."

"Perplexing, isn't it?"

"Quite."

I felt his smile against the side of my neck, his arms squeezing me gently. "So will you be fine all by your lonesome for a week or two?"

"That long?" I asked with a small but real amount of distress.

"Well, I don't know how long it'll take to make me a free man. I've never been through a divorce before, you know."

"Do you…want me to come with you?" I asked hesitantly. "For, you know…moral support?"

He seemed to consider it, and then said, "Much as I'd love for you to not leave my sight for longer than a few seconds, I think having you with me might…exacerbate the situation."

I nodded with a mixture of relief and disappointment—relief that I wouldn't have to actually meet the woman whose husband I was stealing, whose life I was ruining; disappointment because of my continual and indestructible cynicism. Past experience had taught me that anyone I loved was bound to leave me at some point—my mom, who I'd loved more deeply than any other person in my young life, before she'd gone to that far-off, untouchable place; the long string of girlfriends, intermixed with almost as many ultimately unsatisfying one-night stands and a healthy amount of boyfriends thrown in for variety, culminating in the disastrous Carlye debacle; Trapper, who I'd loved like a brother; Radar, who I'd loved like a favorite pet; Dad was the only person who hadn't left me. Sidney probably wouldn't've been surprised to find out about this fresh set of relationship issues—my inability to believe that BJ could see his wife and his baby without realizing what a mistake he was making in choosing me over them; my inability to believe that good things could happen to me, or that I deserved those good things when they rarely happened; my inability to trust BJ when he said he loved me and only me, that he'd do anything for me.

"Besides," he said, either not noticing my reverie or trying to casually pull me out of it, "you've got enough stuff to do once you get home to keep yourself busy."

"Me?" I repeated, allowing myself to be pulled from the grim thoughts. "What do I have to do?"

"I'm assuming you haven't told your dad yet…"

"Well, it's not the sort of thing you tell someone in a letter. 'Dear Dad, I'm bringing home a war buddy for an indefinitely-long sleepover. Oh, and don't worry if you hear some strange noises coming out of my bedroom every once in a while…' "

"And I've decided to leave it up to you to work out living arrangements."

"How's that?" I twisted my neck around so I could meet his eyes.

"Appearances, Ben. People might get suspicious of those 'strange noises'."

"Hey, I'm not the one who whistles."

"I'm just saying, people might start to ask questions. We should…have a cover story, or something. The thing we'll tell people when they ask why I moved from California to Maine to shack up with a war buddy."

"Are you saying we can't live together?"

"Not at all! We just have to have an excuse for living together. Like…my divorce robbed me of all my money and worldly possessions, and you, as my best friend, were kind enough to open your doors to me until I can get back on my feet."

"And I happen to find an opening for you in the clinic, where you realize it's your long-lost dream to co-own a small-town clinic with the aforementioned war buddy and his father. Dad adopts you, and you keep living with us for convenience. There. My half's done. That wasn't too hard."

He sighed, and I could almost hear him roll his eyes at me. "We'll talk about it later."

For a while, we sat there in silence, our heads nestled together, and it occurred to me that, if all things worked out like they should, I could spend every night of the rest of my life like this, just like this, being held by my lover, my love. The thought sent a happy thrill up my spine.

"What're you smiling about?" he demanded.

"It's over. It's finally over. I don't have to share you with the damn war anymore."