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Hawkeye's eyes showed almost as much pain as BJ's. How could he just sit here and watch his friend die? He wouldn't. But would he be able to stop it.
Colonel Potter was trying to talk the madman down, and Hawkeye saw beads of sweat form on the older man's neck. This situation was way out of control.
A thousand scenarios ran through Hawkeye's mind in less than a second. BJ being shot and dying...Rice then turning his gun on Potter, Klinger, and Margaret...the patients being killed where they should be getting better...a letter arriving to Peg in three weeks time, telling her about her dead husband...
Hawkeye didn't realize he was moving. His feet were flying before his body had time to process the idea. He was better off that way. If he had realized what he was about to do, he would have ran in the opposite direction away from the man with the gun.
He remembered screams coming from all present. A shot going off. A confusion of arms and legs. In the end, Hawkeye was on top of BJ and Rice was a little way away, on the ground still holding the gun.
Rice and Hawkeye stared at each other for a fraction of a second before the man brought the gun to his own head. Colonel Potter managed to take one step forward before he fired. All around him winced.
Hawkeye looked away as the gun went off for a second time. He gasped and scrambled off of his friend. BJ's breathing had was hard and uneven. Blood was seeping from the many cuts and gashed on his body. "Margaret get him into Post Op now!" Hawkeye's voice was high pitched and hysterical. He didn't notice the rest of the camp, which had been brought by the noise, looking at him. He didn't care.
Klinger was on the ground, one hand clutching his leg. Blood was seeping past his finger from the bullet wound. His teeth were gritted in pain. He moaned softly. Hawkeye dropped next to him automatically. He pried Klinger's fingers from the wound, murmuring to him, "I'm sorry Klinger. This shouldn't have happened."
Klinger's hand found Hawkeye's wrist and he looked at him, noticing how pale he was. "Take care of BJ. I'll be fine for a little while."
Hawkeye caught the eye of nurse Kelly and yelled to her. "Get Charles over here! We'll need some help." He gave Klinger's shoulder a last squeeze before half-running to the Operating Room which had, up until minutes ago, been BJ's cell.
Colonel Potter stepped next to him, face grave. "Look son, I know that you're all over the place right now. Maybe you should leave BJ to me and Charles. He'll be okay. Nothing will happen." His brows were furrowed in worry as he surveyed the younger man's rigged face. He looked like he'd been the one locked in a room with a madman.
Hawkeye didn't respond. He looked over his shoulder, past the closed doors. "Someone should take care of Rice's body."
The Colonel nodded sagely. "There are a lot of things we've got to take care of." His voice broke half-way through the last word. For the first time that night tears squeezed their way past his eyelids.
If he had looked to his left, he would have seen Hawkeye crying too.
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