"Love, Hawkeye Benjamin Franklin Pierce."
As Sidney softly set his pen down onto the paper pad, he looked up from the letter for the first time since he began writing it. He wasn't surprised to see that his eyes, weren't the only ones dampened by tears. Charles, who was sitting in an arm chair on the opposite side of Hawkeye's bed, had glistening tears slowly trickling down his cheeks.
Sidney was surprised, though, to see a contented smile on Hawkeye's face. He expected a look of complete exhaustion and anguish.
Hearing the sniffles of his two friends beside him; Hawkeye turned his head to look at both of them. His smile quickly disappeared after noting their sorrowful and sympathetic expressions. He wanted to tell them to cut it out, but the words just didn't seem to roll off his tongue.
It felt like there were ten thousand pounds of weight lifted off of his heart. He finally did it. After endless years of mental torment, he had finally gained some peace of mind.
"Hawkeye," Charles clearing his throat prompted Hawkeye to turn his head in his direction. "that is without question, one the most, poignant, beautiful, love letters ever written."
Hawkeye furrowed his brow at the Bostonian and replied, "I don't know what to say to that Charles…"
His eyes were becoming heavy with sleep once again. Before he nodded off, he mumbled to Sidney, while still facing Charles, "You make sure Margaret gets that letter, Sid. Minnie should be back with that record any minute now."
And with that Hawkeye was out like a light. The slow rise and fall of his chest told his friends that he hadn't closed his eyes the last time. For a moment, both men just sat and stared at their dying friend.
Finally, Charles broke the heavy silence, "He doesn't know that she works here, does he?"
"No," Sidney shook his head slowly. "no he does not."
The same question was on both of their minds – should they break the promise they made to Hawk and told Margaret where he is?
Before anything else could be said, the soft pitter-pattering of nursing shoes approaching the doorway signalled that Molly was back from the record store down the street. She stopped cold when she saw the two doctor's puffy and red eyes, and Hawkeye seemingly lifeless form. With a shaky tone and she warily asked, "Is he-"
"No," Sidney responded rather sharply, not letting her finish her sentence. He immediately recognised how forceful and cold his tone was. Apparently, his emotions weren't completely under control like he had thought. He went on and explained further in his usual, calmer demeanour, "No sweetie, he just needs to rest for a bit."
Molly breathed a sigh of relief and proceeded slowly and quietly into the dimly lit room. She handed the brown paper wrapped record to Sidney, and said, "I got exactly what he wanted. Though it wasn't easy…" She glanced over her at Hawkeye before continuing, "Did he finish it? I mean did he go through with it and write to his ex-wife?"
Sidney smiled held up the yellow pad of paper in his hand.
Molly nodded slowly and walked up to Sidney, as he carefully tore off all nineteen sheets of paper. Sidney reached behind him and grabbed the already stamped and addressed envelope off of the nightstand. After folding and stuffing the pages into the envelope, he stood up and extended his hand to give the letter to Molly. He, however, changed his mind abruptly and recoiled his arm from the young nurse.
"Actually, on second thought, I can make sure this and that package gets to the right hands. I'm sure you have some other patients you need to check up on," Sidney stated, noting the baffled expression on Molly's face.
The young nurse had the feeling that she was being lied to but kept her thoughts to herself. Sidney was one of Hawkeye's dearest friends, if he wanted to do this one last thing for him – it was his right to do so.
"Here," Molly said as she handed over the package to Sidney. "Thanks for doing that. I should check up on my other patients; then I am going to give my Mom a call. She wanted to go home for a bit. Do you think he'd mind if my Mom were here too until… you know? I know she'd like to, even though she'll never admit it..."
Sidney found his eyes beginning to well up again, at the mention of Hawkeye eventually passing. He put that thought aside for the time being as his professional training kicked in, and he managed to smile and say, "Of course you can call her."
"In fact," Charles spoke up, and he got up from his chair and walked over to stand beside Sidney, "tell your dear Mother that her presence is necessary."
The young nurse scanned the expressions of both doctor's faces for confirmation, before slowing nodding, turning around and leaving the room.
Once the click-clack of her nursing shoes was no longer audible, Charles and Sidney turned to face one another. They both knew what each other was thinking, but dared not speak it in Hawkeye's room. Charles flicked his head towards to doorway, signalling that they should leave the room. Sidney nodded and followed the surgeon out into the hallway.
"You aren't going to let some stranger deliver this to Margaret, are you?" Charles asked so passionately that his question almost sounded like an accusation.
A small smile slowly spread across Sidney's lips. He shook his head slowly and replied, "No – no I'm not. I've known for years now, that one of the reasons as to why Hawkeye has kept on drinking, was the fear of dying alone. Even now his pride won't let him admit it – but he is terrified. If Margaret reads this and wants to be here with him, I think that would bring him more peace than just having us by his side."
"You always knew what to do, Hawkeye when nobody else could," Charles remarked. He grimaced from the immediate realisation that he had just referred to Hawkeye in past tense.
Sidney looked down to his feet, put his hands in the pockets of his slacks and nodded.
"I hope so..."
Charles recognised the sound of guilt in the psychiatrist's voice. He was aware that this couldn't be easy for Sidney at all. For many years, all Hawkeye had was Sidney. Just like Hawkeye had told Margaret, in the letter Sidney was holding – his addiction had driven everybody who cared about him away, except for Sidney. Charles knew that there were no words that could console him, so he decided to change the subject to one that hopefully would be less grim.
"How did your phone calls from before go, by the way?"
Sidney couldn't help but smile, "Three of them were a success. Not sure about the fourth, though."
Charles nodded, as he confirmed his suspicions, "California?"
"Yes."
"Well, I guess we will just have to wait and see."
Margaret Houlihan was having a relatively normal, Tuesday. She got up at 5:30 am, made coffee and got the eggs started for John and the girls. After waking up her daughters, they all had breakfast at the table like every other family on their street. John was the first to leave for his surgical shift. After kissing her husband goodbye, she ushered the girls back upstairs to change, wash their face, and style their hair. After giving them their lunches of cucumber salad, tuna and crackers – she kissed both of them on the head and ushered them out the door to catch the bus. Once she was finally alone in the house, she went about her usual morning routine and left for work. Once at the hospital, Margaret went about her routine in the paediatric ward. After her morning rounds, she was on her way back to the nurse's station, when she ran into an old nurse of hers – Shelly Bigelow.
Obviously surprised by the chance meeting, Margaret immediately asked what Bigelow was doing in Boston.
Bigelow furrowed her brow and shook her head in disapproval after the initial shock wore off.
"I thought that you of all people would know, or at least be there. Have you no empathy at all?"
The former Lieutenant's harsh words struck a nerve in Margaret. Her gut told her that there was some truth behind her defensive rhetoric. The odd encounter was ever present in her mind as Margaret continued with her day. She kept going over the time they served together at the 4077th. Had she somehow offended Bigelow to the point that she avoided the unit reunions? She was tough on the World War Two veteran, but only because she knew that Bigelow could handle it.
Lunch time eventually came around, which gave Margaret reprieve to her thoughts about Bigelow. Margaret went to the cafeteria and grabbed her lunch. She then proceeded to sit at her and Trapper's usual table in the far right corner of the cafeteria.
As per usual, Trapper joined her about five minutes after noon. He had a sour look on his face, though, as she sat down in the chair across from her. His brown eyes were black with fury as he slammed the plastic tray down onto the table, and glared at his wife.
"What's wrong?" Margaret asked in an even tone. She had been married to him long enough to know not to provoke Trapper when he looks as he did at that moment.
"Nothing," Trapper mumbled as he bit into his hamburger.
Margaret's temper snapped at her husband's behaviour. Ever since he had come home from work the night before, Trapper had barely spoken a word to her. He did, however, glare at her like she was medusa's spawn.
"Alright, that's it!" Margaret raised her voice and dropped her fork dramatically onto her plate. "What happened to make you act like an immature toddler towards me? I demand an answer, John."
Trapper narrowed his gaze at her. He took a moment to decide on how carefully word his response, "If you really must know, ask that ignorant asshole Winchester. The man's about as impersonal as a piece of furniture, and he calls me a lowlife. He had the audacity to call me a lousy husband when the man doesn't see his own wife for more than six hours out of a week."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"I'm not doing this, Margaret. If you really must know, go find him." Trapper grumbled as he picked up his untouched tray and walked away.
As she watched her husband walk away, she noticed several pairs of eyes on her. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment for a moment, before she decided that her lunch break was over as well.
Something was off, really off today. Margaret had to track down Charles and get to the bottom of whatever was going on.
A tugging sensation on his abdomen awoke Hawkeye from his nap. He turned his head to the right slightly to see Molly changing the drain and fluid collection bag for his liver drainage. His liver had lost the ability to filter out waste products properly, which resulted in fluid accumulation in this abdomen. Even before he had entered the hospital for his last time, he had to make routine trips to the hospital to have the fluid drained. It had a brownish tinge to it and smelled as foul as month old sardines.
"Minnie," Hawkeye mumbled to let his nurse know that he was obviously still with the living.
Molly Bigelow looked up from what she was doing and smiled in relief at Hawkeye. His liver function, lung function and blood levels were starting to deteriorate at a steady pace. It wouldn't be long before he slipped into a coma and his would begin to shut down.
"Hi, Hawkeye. How are you feeling?"
"Alive."
"Well I'm all done here," Molly said as she put a few pieces of tape around the base of his drain. "Mom's waiting outside the room to see you. Dr Freedman is delivering your packing to the currier. I was going to, but he insisted that he see it gets in the right hands. I'm not exactly sure where Dr Winchester went – he said something about partaking in the most inadequately edible feast in all of Boston."
Hawkeye chuckled weakly, "I would bet you a dime that he's in the cafeteria."
"Probably," Molly smiled. "Should I send Mom in? She bought a deck of cards from the gift shop."
"Sure kid. She probably wants to beat me at Gin Rummy. We played cards a lot in Korea in the Winter, when it was too cold to – uh well I just leave that sentence hanging. This is your old lady we're talking about."
"Yes, please don't finish," Molly laughed. "Just press the buzzer if you need anything. Your fluid bag should be good for a while now."
As the younger Bigelow left the room, the older, more familiar one entered with a pack of cards in hand, and a determined look on her face.
"I hear that you're ready to lose at cards?" Hawkeye greeted Shelley. "Same rules as always? For every game lost, the loser has to lose an article of clothing."
Bigelow rolled her eyes dramatically as a joke, as she sat down in the chair to the right of him.
"There's the Hawkeye I know."
Margaret decided to sit in her office try to compose herself by doing some routine paperwork, after the incident at lunch. She decided to collect herself before seeking out Charles. If she came at him lock, stock and barrel - he'd undoubtedly harp that he had no idea what she was talking about.
As her hand automatically filled out the information, she debated with herself whether or not Trapper's comment about Winchester, was just him running off at the mouth or not.
She was so deep in thought that she didn't even hear the on duty unit clerk knock on her window the first time. It was only when the young girl let herself into her office that Margaret came back to reality. She swivelled around in her office chair to face the door
"I am sorry to interrupt Nurse McIntyre, but there is a Dr Freedman is waiting outside to speak with you."
Margaret's jaw dropped slightly in surprise. What on Earth was Sidney doing in Boston?
"Alright, send him in."
She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, in an attempt to calm her racing heart. She opened them only seconds later at the sound of an old friend's voice.
"Margaret."
"Sidney… what brings you to Boston?" Margaret tried to put on as normal an act as possible. "Please have a seat."
Sidney glanced at the matching orange leather office chair she was gesturing to in the far right-hand corner of the room. He did not oblige walked towards her.
"I'm afraid I can't, today. I am just here to deliver this to you."
Margaret accepted the brown package from him, staring at it suspiciously.
"What is this…?"
"It's from a mutual friend."
"Who? What's going on Sidney?" Margaret could hear the own fear in her voice. That fact that there was no return address was alarming.
"I have to go back to our sick friend now, Margaret. Please take some time and look over the contents of the package. If you have any questions, you can come and find me on the second floor room 7B. It was good to see you again." Sidney simply explained before she showed himself out of the office.
Once the door clicked shut, Margaret got up and closed the blinds on her office window and door. That was the signal to her staff that she was not to be disturbed. After taking her seat again, she tore open the package to find a sealed envelope. A square, brown paper wrapped item which was most likely 45" phonograph, was also included.
She felt her hands uncharacteristically shake, as she slit open the top of the envelope with a metal letter opener. After she had pulled out, and unfolding the contents, Margaret took a deep breath. She then flipped over the stack of stationary and began to the large letter.
"To the one whom I love,"
Charles was looking over Hawkeye's latest lab results at the nurse's station when he heard three pairs of footsteps, and the distinctive shuffle of a walker come down the hallway.
"Winchester," the gruff voice of his long-ago boss made him turn around.
A small smile spread across his lips at the sight of Sherman Potter. Sure the Colonel looked far older than when they had said their goodbye's on the last day of Korea. White, thinning hair, liver spots and the walker were certainly different. However, the look of wisdom and bullheaded determination in Potter's steely eyes remained the same.
Beside the Colonel, on his left, was none other than the Iowa native, Radar O'Reily. On Potter's right was a teary eyed, Maxwell Klinger.
"Gentleman," Charles acknowledged the other two men's presence. "It's so decent of you to have come this far."
"I hope we're not too late. We hopped on a plane as fast as humanly possible. We all ended up on a connecting flight to Chicago." Klinger added in.
"No, no you're not to Gentlemen. Hawkeye is awake and is playing cards with Sidney and Bigelow right now."
"Bigelow," Potter said as he furrowed his brow. It suddenly came to him why that name was familiar. "You mean Shelley Bigelow from the 4077th? Nobody has heard or seen her since Korea! What in tarnation is she doing here?"
"Well, that's quite the story. You should as Hawkeye – I'm sure he'd be elated to regale you with the tail."
"Why don't you boys go on ahead, and let Hawkeye know that we're here. I want to have a chat with Winchester," Potter said to Klinger and Radar.
"Alright," Klinger replied. The look of dread of seeing their old war buddy in a hospice bed was evident his face, as well as Radar's.
"He's in Room 7B, just around the corner," Winchester informed them.
"Thanks," Radar whispered before he and Klinger headed down the hallway.
Once Potter was sure that they were out of ear shot, he piped up. "Are those his labs?"
"Yes."
"Put them on the counter sonny. I'm as old as a brass spittoon so I need to keep both hands on this walker."
Charles obliged and set them down in from of the old doctor. He spoke up after a few moments when he noticed that Potter's eyes were at the end of the page.
"His liver function is deteriorating by the hour."
"It looks like he'll have a few hours before he slips into a coma, judging by his blood chemistry," Potter stated what both men knew.
"You made it just in time. I'm afraid," Charles found himself choking back tears, "I'm afraid he won't see the morning."
Colonel Potter looked down at his feet and nodded. He knew that the coming hours were going to be trying for all everybody, as they had to say goodbye finally to Hawkeye.
As Klinger and Radar made their way down the long hallway, to the corner where Charles had said Hawkeye's room was – they both felt more anxious than they had since being in Korea.
"Did you get a letter from Hawkeye too?" Radar blurted out the question he had been dying to ask his comrade since they had accidently met in front of a McDonald's stand by their airport gate in Chicago.
"Yes. I'm assuming that you did too?"
"Yeah… gee I was so torn up when I had got it. I couldn't believe that he didn't even want me to be there to say goodbye. I know Hawk's had his problems, but at the end, he was still my best friend in Korea." Radar let off what had been on his chest for more than a day.
"I know what you mean kid. Hawkeye didn't have a hope in hell of ever coming back from losing his dad and then Margaret. Some of the things he did for me in Korea though, I'll never forget." Klinger agreed to Radar's nostalgic sentiment.
"I was so happy when I had gotten my call from Sidney, telling me where Hawk was, and what was going on."
"Me too, Radar… me too."
"And Gin!" Hawkeye triumphantly announced as he threw down his cards onto the night table beside him.
"Oh, I don't believe this. This is the seventh game in a row that you've won!" Bigelow exclaimed.
"Well call it a dying man's luck," Hawkeye chuckled.
"I don't even know why I'm playing anymore honestly," Sidney said aside, in a joking manner as he totalled up their scores on the notepad in front of him.
"Did Fraud ever write anything about what it means to be a poor sport, Sid?" Hawkeye teased.
Before Sidney could reply, the sound of Klinger clearing his throat brought all three's attention to the doorway.
"What the…" Hawkeye was speechless. He began to wonder if he had died, because why the hell were all these people from his past suddenly in his hospital room.
Was he sentenced to a purgatory where he was made to feel like he was dying over and over again, and for some cruel reason all the people he had hurt were there to pity him? Or maybe they were there to tell him what a failure he was on Earth.
"How the hell did you know that I was here?" Hawkeye's raised his voice. However, his tone sounded more scared than angry. He turned to look at Sidney, "What's going on here?"
Before Sidney could answer, the distinct clomping of metal became apparent from the hallway. Both Klinger and Radar stepped aside, allowing the aged Colonel to shuffle inside, followed by Charles.
"Sherman?" Hawkeye gaped.
"Charles, you're my physician. What the hell is going on? Am I hallucinating?" The childlike vulnerability Hawkeye felt deep inside, was ever present in his voice.
"Hawkeye," Sidney began to speak, but Charles cut him off.
"You can blame me for these three being here Pierce. I must admit that I was so moved by your letter to me, and after speaking with Sidney about all of the other letter's you've written – I called the Sherman, Walter and Max." Charles made sure he was careful to mention the two missing people in the room; BJ and of course Margaret. "If you must be upset with someone, be upset with me.
The twinkle in Sidney's eye when he turned around to glance at Charles, was all the thanks that Charles needed for telling his white lie.
Time seemed to stand still, and Hawkeye stared at Charles, with narrowed eyes. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.
"Charles…" Hawkeye's gravelly voice sounded uncharacteristically serious, "I could never be mad at you." He paused to gaze into the each of the eyes, of his loved ones, before repeated what he had written each of them in their personal letters. "I know that you did not have to be here. I know how much I have hurt each of you. I know that I've done this to myself… I love you all."
A few moments of heavy, reflective, silence was broken by, Potter. "Yes, we did have to be here. What in tarnation are you talking about? Remember that time in 52', when my lumbago was acting up, but I refused to eighty-two myself and park my caboose in bed? If you weren't around, who knows what kind of damage I would have done to my body. And what about all those times you barged into my tent and office, to force me to talk about why I was acting like such a concrete-headed jackass, every time Mildred and I would have problems. There are many a time when I am alone, that I thank you for ensuring that my marriage survived through the years of my third and final war."
"Jeez Hawk, you brought Henry, Max, Owen, Verona, Timothy and Cathy into this world." Radar piped up. "There was no other doctor in Ottumwa, Iowa, the States, or even the world, that I would have trusted to bring my children into the world! You were the one that taught me about life and such while in Korea. Your lessons in the art of getting a woman to like you in that special way, is the reason that I had the confidence to talk to Patty in that hanger at Kimpo. Now me and Patty have been married for twenty years."
"I remember that you clapped, cheered, and congratulated me the most when Soon-Lee and I got married on the last day at Ole' 4077th. Heck, back in the early days of Colonel Blake, you always ran interference any time Major's Burns and Houlihan came too close to court marshalling me for my antics." Klinger told Hawkeye with gratitude.
"Let's not forget Hawkeye, the time that you operated on my shoulder, and removed my spleen after I fell off of the top of the water tower during that horrid windstorm of 52'. You saved my life that day, and made sure that I didn't get too down while I was recuperating." Bigelow Sr. chimed in.
Hawkeye took a moment to look into the eyes of all his visitors once more. He couldn't help but let a few tears roll down his cheeks. He knew that he had disappointed and hurt beyond belief everyone in the room with him, thanks to his addiction and personal choices – they were all there with him during his final hours.
Maybe he wasn't going to be doomed to hell after all.
"So, Klinger – tell me all about how Soon-Lee's cosmetic boutique is doing? And Radar, what are the kids up too? A few years ago you said that Henry was in Pre-med. Sherman, how is Mildred doing?"
The group of old friends of visited for almost for hours, before Hawkeye, became exhausted. It was time to change his fluid bags, and besides – the morphine dose that Molly interrupted to administer, had all but put his lights out. He muttered in his old usual, long-winded, rambling way that he had to go to sleep. It had been about an hour since then, and after running a blood chemistry – Winchester had to inform the group solemnly that Hawkeye, had only a few more hours to live.
They all left the tiny hospice room, to allow each member of the group to say their personal goodbyes to their Korean war comrade.
Sidney was the last to say his private goodbyes, to a man that had influenced his life more than any other man ever had. Once he had left, the group re-entered the dimly lit room together to stand and sit around Hawkeye.
It was only a matter of minutes until Hawkeye Pierce was finally free of the demons that had claimed his vitality and life.
Margaret had not wept as hard as he was since her Father had passed away five years ago.
She had just finished reading Hawkeye's letter. The guilt and undeniable love for Hawkeye that she had been suppressing for so many years had been brought out by his poignant words.
Everything now made sense – Trapper, Bigelow and Sidney. Hawkeye was right there in Boston Mercy.
She ignored the bombardment of questions and demands from the staff in her ward as she stormed out of her office, down the corridor and into the elevator. As the metal carriage lifted her down to the second floor, she tried to collect herself.
Margaret rarely made her way to the second floor. After being in the Nursing Corps for eleven years – hospice was the last ward she wanted to be in. After stopping to ask a familiar looking b nurse at the nurse's station, about a patient named Pierce; she had found her way to Hawkeye's room.
She stopped just outside of the doorway when she saw the group of old friends and loved ones gathered around Hawkeye's bed. There was the hospital Chaplin murmuring some prayer from the bible he was looking at, while his hand was placed on Hawkeye's forehead.
The gasp of disbelief of the sight in front of her alerted the other in the room to her presence. True to her nature – Margaret did not care about what the people in the room thought as she walked up to Hawkeye's bed.
His breath was coming in sharp, shallow spurts. His white hair, jaundice skin, distended abdomen, and dark encircled eyes, shocked Margaret.
The picture before her was what her betrayal, had turned the one whom she loved most, in to. Her shaky, teary breaths, matched her trembling hands.
It would be a lie to say not that everybody on some level, was shocked by Margaret's presence at the side of her ex-husband's deathbed.
Margaret didn't second guess her actions as she lowered the metal side bars of his bed, and crawled in beside Hawkeye. She lifted his head so that it was resting on her shoulder and began to run her nimble, long fingers through his hair. She closed her eyes and whispered the words into his ear, that she now knew he had needed to hear for years.
"I'm so sorry Hawkeye, for all the pain I've caused you. I just didn't know how to handle your drinking anymore. Myself, Sidney, Colonel Potter, Radar, Klinger, Bigelow, and Charles are all here. It's time for your suffering to end. I hope that you will be waiting for me. It's time go Hawkeye. I love you, and I always will. "
A few moments later, Benjamin "Hawkeye" Franklin Pierce, passed away surrounded by those whom he loved, and in the arms of the one he loved the most.
A/N: So there it is. Hawkeye is finally dead...
I'm sorry for the delay but it literally took me this long be happy with these 5000 + words.
There is the epiloge following this which is about 90% written.
Thanks so much for reading my story and please review. I really hope that this chapter did justice to the narrative I have set for this story...
I look forward to hearing from you, and thank you so much for reading.