"I don't know what I'm doing!" Hawkeye Pierce paced around his kitchen table in his plaid house slippers. The little bells on the tips of his shoes jingled when he walked. The short phone cord largely kept him tethered in one place, but every trek around the table threatened to yank the device from the wall. "I've always been the one to lose my marbles! I have no idea how to collect them."

Sidney's soothing chuckle slid across the phone line. "Well, I'm sure you're doing fine, Hawkeye. Who better than you to understand what he went through in Korea? And don't forget, I'll be there in a week."

"Yeah," Hawkeye sighed into the phone. "I hope we'll be ready for you by then." He yawned. "I could use a break." He opened the cupboard and took out a glass.

"You said BJ's through the worst of it, medically speaking. How many days has it been?"

"Too long," Hawkeye replied. He poured some water from the tap and sat down heavily on one of the wooden kitchen chairs. "Tell me honestly, Sidney, was I this bad?"

"Hawkeye, in my professional opinion, you've had the fortunate tendency to suffer from one psychiatric malady at a time. Unfortunately for BJ, it sounds like his demons are ganging up on him. From what you've told me, BJ is unable to function in his daily life, so much so that he rode across the country in an impaired state of mind to avoid it. Of course, I'll know more when I evaluate him, but you've described alcohol withdrawal, panic attacks, delusions, dissociation—"

"Don't forget about the paranoia and fits of rage—"

"You said he threw a slipper at you because you took his keys!" Sidney chuckled. "That sounds reasonable enough to me. Or is there more to that story that you haven't yet shared?"

"No, that pretty much covers it. Hawkeye Pierce's Home for Wayward Doctors at your service." The weary man rubbed his eyes and sighed. "It's been a long few days, Sidney. My father . . . he's really upset with me. Went down the road to stay with the Widow Barnes for awhile until things settle down, can you believe it?" When Sidney didn't reply, Hawkeye added, "He thinks I'm crazy to take BJ in, but what else could I do?"

"What else could you do?" Sidney put emphasis on the word "could."

"I could have turned him away. I could have sent him home. I could have found him somewhere else to dry out."

"But you didn't."

"I couldn't," Hawkeye emphasized.

"Sure you could," Sidney reasoned. "Someone in your situation, Hawkeye, could easily turn their back on BJ. At best, they might try to help him for a day or two and then send him on his merry way. An addict is prone to relapse, as you know." He paused, and Hawkeye could picture the gentle man's sympathetic eyes. "Why are you so committed to BJ's recovery?"

Hawkeye looked at his hands. "I have to be. He doesn't have anyone else."

"You could find a clinic for him. There are a few places I could suggest."

"Are you crazy?" Hawkeye stood and began to stomp around the kitchen again, gesturing wildly with the hand not holding the phone. "Put him in one of those cages like I was in? Like an animal in the zoo? Lock him up inside those puke-green walls and throw away the key?"

"You forgave me eventually," Sidney said, reasonably. "BJ would forgive you, Hawkeye." The psychiatrist paused again to redirect the conversation. "Why is BJ your responsibility? He has a family — his wife and parents are in California."

"He came to me, Sidney," Hawkeye said quietly. "He came to me because he didn't have anywhere else to go. I'm not leaving him."

"You want BJ with you because you care about him and you're invested in his well-being," Sidney restated.

"Obviously. He's my best friend." Hawkeye drank half of the water in one gulp.

"And you don't want him to feel abandoned the way you felt when Trapper and BJ got their orders."

Hawkeye sputtered. "Don't hold back, Sidney!" he choked out between coughs. When he regained his composure, Hawkeye sighed and added, "I think that kind of pain on top of what he's going through already could break him completely."

Sidney sighed too, a soft echo over the phone line. "You're a good friend, Hawkeye Pierce. A good man. BJ is lucky to have you."

"Thanks, Sidney."

"Oh, and I'm making a note in your file to revisit your fear of abandonment at a later session."

Hawkeye heard the faint scratch of a pen on paper and rolled his eyes fondly. "Good night, Sidney."

"Good-bye, Hawkeye. I'll see you soon."