This one might sound familiar: "Dr. Winchester & Mr. Hyde"
Oh, and I still own none of it. Only Jessie.
*********************************************
Jessie sauntered around the tent, knowing Radar was with his animals. She leaned on a nearby crate as she watched him tend to one in particular.
"How's Daisy?"
"Better," Radar mumbled, putting the mouse back in her cage. "Aren't you on duty?"
"Major Houilhan wanted me to see you about reordering some supplies. Immediately." She shrugged in exasperation.
Radar blew out a breath, double checking the door on the cage to make sure it was latched. "Yeah. Sure. I'll be right there."
Jessie took her time walking to his office. Earlier in the week, the Marines had pitted their mouse Sluggo against Radar's mouse Daisy in a maze race. Once again, boredom made them do strange things. Daisy won, but was acting extremely strange afterwards. Last night, Radar had come to her tent as mad as she had ever seen him, telling her that Charles had drugged Daisy, so she would win. Jessie had been almost as livid, but the more she thought about it, the more something wasn't right.
She idly rifled through some paperwork stacked on Radar's desk. Come to think of it, Charles has been acting differently, too . . .
Radar slammed through the door, making her jump.
"Didn't mean to startle you."
"No, I was just thinking, that's all."
"About?"
Jessie chewed on her bottom lip, debating. "Do you think Major Winchester has been acting a little strange, lately?"
Radar banged a file cabinet drawer shut. "Anyone's strange who would drug a poor, defenseless animal!"
Jessie nodded once in agreement, handing him the reorder paperwork.
"And all for money, too! Geez!" He absently took the forms from her, rifling through them.
Jessie leaned on his desk. "It's just that . . . well it really is unlike Charles to be so absolutely . . . um . . . unfeeling, if you know what I mean."
"You can take up for him all you want, but I'm not!"
Jessie decided to keep quiet instead of making things worse.
Radar's gaze softened. "Sorry, Jess. He just made me so mad . . ."
"Don't worry about it." She didn't take it personally.
Radar scanned her paperwork, making sure it was complete. "Hey, the hydrocortisone is blank. Do you know how many the Major wants?"
"Dang! She's left for R&R about an hour ago. Let me count them. Maybe I can figure out how many she wanted."
She hurried into post-op, pulling open the desk drawer where the supply room key was usually kept. It wasn't there.
"Bigelow, where's the key?" Jessie asked.
"Oh, Major Winchester just came in here to get it. Said something about checking supplies."
"If you and Major Houilihan counted supplies, why is he recounting them?" Radar asked from behind her, echoing her thoughts.
Jessie stood very still, the pieces falling into place.
Jessie slammed the drawer shut, making Bigelow jump. Whirling around, she flew through the door and into the compound, not realizing Radar was right behind her.
Sure enough, the lock was open on the supply room door. Jessie slammed through the door roughly.
"Hold it right there, buster!"
Startled, Charles dropped the bottle of pills on the floor. Thankfully, it still had the lid on it. "What's the meaning of this . . . this interruption, Lieutenant?" He tried to kick the bottle under a table, hoping it went undetected.
Jessie stalked up to Charles, picking it up. She shook it in his face, the pills rattling inside. "How many did you take?"
"Why, I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied, flustered.
"Damn it, Charles! How many did you take?" Her eyes flashed with anger.
He glanced at Radar standing in the doorway, then looked at the floor. "None."
"But, you were going to, weren't you?"
He didn't reply, just pulled out a chair and sat wearily.
"These things can kill you!"
He opened his mouth to answer.
"And don't tell me you know what you're doing! You don't have a clue!"
"Oh, so what made you so ubiquitous all of the sudden?" he scoffed.
She slammed the bottle down in front of him with a bang, making him and Radar jump. "Let me tell you about a friend of mine."
"Don't you think I have better things to occupy my time than listening to you regal me of stories from your quaint childhood?" he sneered.
She shook her finger in his face. "Shut up and listen to me, for once!"
He crossed his arms and looked at her smugly. "And if I don't?"
"I'm taking you and this bottle to Colonel Potter."
Immediately, he lost the haughty expression.
Jessie took it as an invitation to continue. "Adelaide and I grew up together, best friends. We did everything together. Riding lessons. Summer camp. Majorettes. Until graduation from high school. She went to college, majoring pre-med. And, I didn't. Her father was a pharmacist, and she wanted to help people, like he does." Jessie swallowed hard, a lump forming in her throat.
Charles was paying attention. "And?"
Radar had never heard her talk about this and was all ears, as well.
Jessie cleared her throat. "Well, the first semester was hard on her. She was away from home and missed her family. We talked and wrote letters some, but she stayed so busy. I didn't know . . . she was struggling. We found out later she had been taking these." She shook the bottle for emphasis, the pills rattling ominously.
Jessie looked at Charles, their eyes meeting. He didn't look away. "One day, she took too many."
Charles paled noticeably.
Jessie picked up the bottle and studied it. "The last time I saw her, she didn't know who I was. Didn't know anyone. The vibrant girl who was like a sister to me is gone." Jessie stopped for a moment before continuing, collecting herself. "She's replaced by the shell of a woman who sits all day and drools on herself. And you know what? She thought she could handle it, too."
Jessie sat the bottle back down in front of him gently and turned to walk out the door. Radar touched her arm as she walked by.
Charles recovered enough from her story to re-tighten the ever-present wall he had built around himself. "Aren't you going to take these with you? Save me from myself?" he called haughtily.
Jessie turned around in the doorway, Radar's hand still on her arm. "I'm not a governess, Charles. Occasionally, I find myself in that role. But, not tonight. I'm too damn tired."
Charles watched her go, surprised she remembered the words he used with her months earlier. He sat and stared at the bottle of pills for a long time.
*************************************
Jessie tried to walk back to post-op, but Radar steered her towards the Swamp. She was so preoccupied, she didn't even notice until they stopped outside the door.
"What in the world are we doing here?"
"Tell them."
"Just let it go, Radar. We can't save him from himself."
"I still think you should tell them."
"Tell us what?" Hawkeye said, opening the door for them. He motioned them inside, and reluctantly, Jessie followed.
She stood in the middle of the tent, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dimness. Radar cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "We just came from the supply room. Charles was in there. With a bottle of pills."
B.J. sat up on his cot. "You're kidding!"
Jessie shook her head, putting her hands in her lab coat pocket. "I wish I were."
Hawkeye threw his magazine on the floor. "We sat up with him all night last night! He swore he wouldn't touch another one!"
Radar nudged her in the back. "See. I told you they knew
They all sat in silence, absorbing all the information.
"So, what are we going to do?" Radar asked.
They all looked at Hawkeye. "I agree with Jess. We can't save him from himself. He's going to have to make his own decisions."
"If he would just stop thinking he's so much better than all of us, then he wouldn't even be in this boat!" Jessie argued, suddenly angry. "I just don't see how he can do it to himself. Or to us either."
"We'll keep an eye on him. That's all we can do, I guess," B.J. added. "Thanks for letting us know."
Jessie sighed. "Yeah, anytime."
Radar opened the door for her, worried about the dark look on her face. He was quiet as they walked across the compound.
"Hey, Jess?"
"Hmm?"
"You never told me how many boxes of hydrocortisone to order. Do you want . ."
"No! I'm not going back in there with him! And watch him destroy his life! Just order what you normally order. I'll take the flack if it's not right."
He grabbed her arm, stopping her before she could enter post-op. "Wait a sec, Jess. Are you OK?"
She blew a strand of hair out of her face. "I'd hate to see what happened to Adelaide happen to him . . ." Her anger faded as she thought of her friend in Texas who was really no longer her friend at all.
She gave him a brave smile and squeezed his arm before returning to post-op, hoping he was convinced she was fine.
Radar wasn't convinced at all.
***********************************************
Jessie absently ran a brush through her damp hair, thumbing through a magazine. She stretched underneath her blanket, working the kinks out of her tired muscles. As if on cue, wounded had arrived soon after she left the Swamp, and they had all been on their feet for hours.
She watched Charles closely, as did B.J. and Hawkeye, but he had decided he didn't want to speak to anyone in camp, only opening his mouth to demand instruments from the nursing staff. He was just as jumpy as ever, so it was hard to tell if he had taken more pills. It could have easily been aftereffects from those he had already swallowed.
Damn him!
Jessie rubbed her forehead, trying to push hostile thoughts out of her head, pausing when she heard a soft knock on her door.
She looked at her bedside clock. 1 a.m. This place never sleeps. "Come in."
Charles opened the door hesitantly and walked inside.
Just as quickly as her anger had faded, it returned.
She looked away and tossed her magazine aside. "It's kind of difficult to come into someone's tent, yet not say a word. Just like you've done all damn day! Have you taken up ventriloquism, perhaps?"
He didn't reply, so she looked up at him, finally noticing his expression. She jumped up, tossing blankets aside. "Charles, are you OK?"
"It won't stop, Jessamyn. It won't stop."
Gently, she took one of his hands in hers, surprised at how clammy he was. His breathing was irregular, and his hands kept fidgeting. She sat him on the edge of her cot as he muttered, feeling his pulse. It was so rapid, she couldn't count it.
"Charles, look at me."
He wouldn't at first, but he finally did.
Jessie put her hands on her hips. "Did you take . . ."
"No! That's what I've been trying to tell you! But, it won't stop! My heart keeps racing, and I can't breathe or eat or sleep or . . . you've got to do something!" He lay back on her pillow. "Please, you've got to help me."
Her mind raced. She had researched amphetamines extensively after Adelaide overdosed. "I . . . I can't do anything. You'll just have to let it run its course."
"Let me stay here. Please. Pierce and Hunnicutt are . . . they stayed up with me last night. I can't ask them again." He covered his face with his hands. "God, I'm a mess! A total wreck! A. . . a failure."
Jessie sighed. "You're not a failure." But, despite what you think, you're not perfect either.
He rolled onto his side. "I thought I could handle it." His hands shook violently as he rubbed his eyes, his face pasty white. "I know!" He almost sat straight up. "Sing! Your voice . . ." He rolled over to face her, taking her hand. "Please? Anything. Anything at all."
Already exhausted, Jessie still couldn't say no. She had often wondered if Adelaide had asked for help before she overdosed. Or, if the people she surrounded herself with were too caught up in their own lives to notice her spiraling downhill. Plus, the pleading look in Charles's eyes tugged at her.
He rolled away from her, and she stretched out behind him, the cot groaning under the weight of two people as she settled against his back. Automatically, she wrapped her arm around him, laying her cheek on the back of his shirt, which was damp with perspiration.
Desperately, he clutched her hand, clasping it to his chest as she sang softly, anything she could think of.
Slowly, his breathing became steadier and his grip on her hand relaxed.
Just as exhausted, Jessie fell asleep snuggled against his back, her breathing matching his.
********************************
Jessie hit the floor, startled.
What the hell?
She struggled to see in the darkness of the tent, her mind trying to figure out who the broad-backed figure was spread across her bunk. Remembering the night before while she rubbed her tired eyes, she stood up, wondering if she should wake him.
Not after it took me so long to get him to sleep.
Wearily, she gathered her robe around herself and trudged across camp.
The Swamp was quiet when she opened the creaky door, collapsing into Charles's bunk. Burying her face in his pillow, which smelled faintly of his aftershave, she immediately fell asleep.
But, not before wondering how she knew what Charles's aftershave smelt like, anyway.
*************************************
The stench of bad coffee woke her the next morning. She opened one eye to find B.J. and Hawkeye staring down at her, both wearing their trusty robes and sipping the awful brew.
She threw the blanket over her head. "I hate mornings. Instead of waking up safe in bed at home, I wake up here. In hell," she said hoarsely.
"Oh, c'mon, Jess. The Swamp isn't that bad," B.J. said, gesturing with his mug. "We have wall-to-wall fleas and hot-and-cold running rats. Who could want more?"
"You know what I mean. Korea here. Not the Swamp here." She threw Charles's blanket back. "Although Charles is right, you two do live like common slobs."
"He's just jealous of our decorating abilities," Hawkeye said flippantly. He offered her his cup, which she gratefully accepted, sipping gingerly.
"God, my throat is killing me! Even this stuff tastes wonderful."
"OK, Jess, we've got to know. Why are you and Charles playing musical bunks?"
"Yeah, and why weren't we invited to play?" Hawkeye added.
Jessie rolled her eyes skyward. "Honestly, Pierce. I've never had to handle you this early in the morning, and it's not very appealing."
He grinned at her. "Maybe that's because you didn't handle me last night." He laughed as Jessie choked on her coffee.
"Down, Hawk." BJ said. "I'm really curious about why Radar says Charles is in her bunk and she's obviously in his."
Jessie sat her cup down in her lap. "Radar knows?"
B.J. shrugged. "What doesn't Radar know?"
"True." She ran her fingers through her hair. "Bet he wasn't happy, either."
"He knew you were trying to help, but yeah, he didn't look too thrilled."
"Look, he showed up on my doorstep around 1 this morning in a semi-panic. What was I supposed to do?"
"More pills?"
She told them what happened. "I got the impression he didn't want the two of you to sit up with him again. Then, you might think he was weak. Or something to that effect."
"Figures," B.J. shrugged. "I think he'll be OK in a couple of days. If he truly stays away from the drugs." He clapped Jessie on the shoulder. "You're welcome to our humble abode anytime."
"Yeah, at least you don't snore like Charles. Yeesh!" Hawkeye added.
************************************
The day had turned cold, icy fingers of winter trying to snatch the warmth from his body. Charles shivered in the darkness, despite the sweat that trickled down his face.
He wanted those pills! He craved the ability they had to make him feel invincible, able to survive this place until the day he could return home. So far, they were the only things that made it bearable.
He shuddered again, tightening his jacket around his body. The clinical side of his brain told him that he would be just fine in time, the cravings would disappear. Desperately, he wrapped his mind around that thought, trying to speed the healing process along. But, the apparently existent addictive side of his mind screamed for him to find relief in the bottom of a pill bottle. The war of wills was quite disturbing.
But, Jessie helped. He loved her voice, no matter what she was singing, her Texas lilt only slightly making itself known in the lyrics. For his birthday recently, she had even performed an entire act of one of his favorite operas, quite well, actually. He had almost forgotten he was in this godforsaken hell hole, if only for a little while.
He had slept fitfully the night before and wasn't surprised she had retreated elsewhere in the middle of the night. Trying desperately to remain his normal aloof self during the day, he longed to have her hold him and sing to him again.
And that in and of itself was just as disturbing.
A door creaked, and Jessie settled on the ground beside him, wrapped in the blanket from her bed. "What in the world are you doing?"
"I guess you wouldn't believe me if I said it was a perfect night for star gazing, would you?"
She chuckled. "I'd think you were a bald-faced liar."
"I suppose you would be correct."
"So, you're still . . ."
"Yes. Yes, I am. It's better, but it's still there."
He could feel her shiver, and he almost put his arm over her shoulders and pulled her close. But, he remembered the wary looks Radar had given him all day, and not knowing why, he stopped.
He could barely make out the outline of her face turned up towards the nighttime sky. "You know, even here, the stars manage to be beautiful."
"But, not as lovely as in Texas, I'm assuming?"
"Oh, never as lovely as that!"
Much to his disappointment, she stood up. "I'm going back to bed." She paused in the doorway. "You coming inside?"
"I . . . I don't know yet."
She didn't reply, but re-entered her tent. He could hear her throw more wood in her stove, then settle back into her cot.
He had never felt he needed anyone in his life. Even as a child, his parents were figures who drifted in and out of his day, never ones to cling to in times of crises. He learned to deal with his problems on his own and was often proud of the fact he could be so self-sufficient.
But, damn if this place didn't wither his spirit and his resolve, turning him into something he was so unfamiliar with that he couldn't make a rational decision if his life depended on it!
Praying his predicable life would one day return to normal, he slipped into her tent, feeling just a tiny bit guilty about what anyone would think if they saw.
She held the blanket up as he climbed into the bed. They lay as they did the night before, his back to her as she snuggled against him, her arm thrown over him. He clutched her hand in his as if it were the only lifeline he had.
"Any requests?"
"Doesn't matter. Just sing. Please."
**********************************
Once again, he rooted her out of her bed. And once again, she found her way to the Swamp, finishing out her night there. Thankfully, B.J. and Hawkeye weren't there, probably off gallivanting at Rosie's, so she woke up the next morning without all the prying questions.
That day, they were inundated with wounded, operating until late the following evening. She worked at Charles's table, and he seemed better, as far as she could tell, still irascible and ill, but that was normal for him. He wasn't one for small talk in the operating room, so she really couldn't be sure.
When they all finally crawled into their beds, Jessie lay awake, wondering if he was doing well enough to not need her anymore. She rolled onto her side, curious as to why it even mattered.
The sun woke her late the next morning, alone.