The summer sweltered on. Hawkeye worked, visited his dad, went to the movies, walked along the beach. The one thing he didn't do was date. His heart wasn't in it.
In mid-August, Klinger called him and announced, "You're going to be an uncle again!" Soon-Lee was expecting their third child; they had two girls and were hoping for a boy this time. Between Klinger, Radar, Margaret and B.J., sometimes it seemed like Hawkeye was an uncle to thousands. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Back when he'd first arrived in Korea in 1950, cynical, caustic and hedonistic, he'd been a far cry from avuncular. Apparently his friends thought he had mellowed, and he supposed he had.
Mellowed, but still alone. Worse than being alone was knowing who you wanted but not being able to do anything about it. Some nights he would lie in bed, sleepless, yearning for B.J. Never before had he thought about a man's body the way he was thinking about B.J.'s. Wanting to lie naked with him, wanting to give him pleasure, and get pleasure in return.
Not that labels really mattered to Hawkeye, but he wondered if this meant he was bisexual. He supposed so… well, except for the odd fact that he was no longer thinking about women at all. His mind's eye only got the B.J. Channel these days. So he was what… homosexual… out of the blue, at his age? He didn't think it was as black-and-white as that. As Sidney had mentioned, perhaps everyone had the capacity to feel something for a member of their own sex. Most people no doubt suppressed such feelings. But Hawkeye was open-minded, self-aware and forthright, and he didn't back down or turn away from what his heart was telling him.
His mind, meanwhile, kept playing the if game. If only B.J. wasn't married. If only the two of them had found each other long ago, before Peg Hayden. If only, if only.
If meant nothing in the end, though. Reality flew in the face of if.
He recalled B.J.'s own words of wisdom: When you find the right person, you'll hear the 'click' as the universe falls into place.
Hawkeye's mind went back to that day in 1951 when he shook B.J.'s hand at Kimpo Airport and then tried to calm down a panicked Radar, paraphrasing a line from the poem If. He remembered B.J. standing behind him, saying, "Rudyard Kipling."
And in retrospect, he was positive he'd heard a "click" at that precise moment.
The universe may have fallen into place, but I'm still left stranded on my own little island. Figures.
In early September, Hawkeye got a frantic phone call in the middle of his workday from the nursing home. His father had somehow managed to wander off after breakfast, and nobody could find him.
Hawkeye had Sheila cancel some of his appointments and got Jim to take the others as he headed off for the nursing home, trying not to imagine the worst.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Pierce," the receptionist said, "nobody saw him leave the building. He must have been awfully sly about it."
Hawkeye nodded, but he suspected the more likely reason was there were too few staffers at this place given the number of residents. They couldn't all be everywhere at once. Not knowing what else to do, he went to his father's room and looked around, as if there were going to be some clue jumping out at him, telling him where to find Daniel. And as he stood there at his father's bedside, looking at the framed pictures on his nightstand, inspiration hit.
He took off for their old house, the huge Victorian that they'd lived in as Hawkeye had grown up… the house that Daniel held onto even after Hawkeye moved out on his own. And sure enough, as he pulled up to the curb, he saw his dad sitting on the top step of the front porch, as if he still lived there, as if he belonged.
Hawkeye got out of the car and cautiously approached. "Hey Dad?"
Daniel looked up. "Oh hello, son."
At least he recognized Hawkeye, a good start. "You had us worried. The folks at the nursing home were looking high and low for you." He was on the porch now, and went into a crouch to be eye-to-eye with his dad. "You do know that this isn't your home anymore, right?"
His dad cast his eyes away from Hawkeye, looking out into the street. There was a long pause and then he said, sadly, "I miss it."
Hawkeye put a hand on his shoulder. "I know. I miss it, too. It was ours for a very long time, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, son. Yeah it was."
Hawkeye didn't see any reason to rush his dad away from the house. The current owners didn't appear to be home, and all Daniel was doing was sitting on the porch, feeling nostalgic. Hawkeye sat right next to him, and for a while they reminisced about their years in this house… about Mom and her trademark apple pies and how delicious they were… about Hawkeye and Daniel making French toast and in the process making a complete mess of the kitchen… about taking turns mowing the big backyard once Hawkeye was old enough to help mow.
When they were all talked out, Hawkeye gently led Daniel away from the house and to the car. The old man willingly went back to the nursing home, and Hawkeye left him napping in his bed.
Between that brief scare, which had him preoccupied for a while, and a particularly busy time at work, Hawkeye didn't realize right away that B.J. had gone radio silent. It suddenly dawned on him one evening as he readied for bed that it'd been more than two weeks since they'd actually spoken. Hawkeye had tried to call him a few days prior but the phone had gone unanswered, which didn't worry him at the time, because it just meant the whole family was out, doing family things. Maybe seeing a movie or something.
But now that he was pausing to think about it, he calculated that it'd been 16 days since the last time they talked, and that was very unusual. Almost unheard of. So he picked up the phone right away and dialed. And once again, the ringing went unanswered. Nobody was home… again?
He was getting alarmed, and promised himself he'd try again the next day, even calling B.J. at his hospital if need be.
But he got busy at work and didn't get the chance. Weirdly, his phone at home was ringing when he stepped in the door that evening, and he knew—he knew—it was B.J.
And it was.
"Hawkeye?" His voice was strained, not sounding at all like the usually carefree, chipper B.J. Hunnicutt he knew and loved.
"Beej? Is everything all right?"
"Can I come out there for the weekend?"
Hawkeye didn't like the tone of his friend's voice. "Of course, of course. You don't even have to ask me that. But what's wrong? Is Erin all right?"
"Erin's fine, she's fine. We'll talk when I see you, OK? I want to wait until I see you."
"OK, Beej. Come on out. The Swamp and I await your arrival." He was trying to elicit a laugh, or at least a lighter mood, but it wasn't working.
"Thanks, Hawkeye. Things are… well, never mind. I'll tell you when I see you."
That was how they left it, but the cryptic conversation started to drive Hawkeye crazy with worry as soon as he hung up the phone. What was happening at Chez Hunnicutt?