Chapter 1: And if the night comes (and the night will come,) well at least the war is over
Chapter Text
BJ Hunnicutt wasn’t a nostalgic man.
He wasn’t melancholic, or mournful. He didn’t consider himself to be, at least.
He had a method to deal with things, a terrible reaction he wasn’t proud of, called R&R —Repression and Rage. And it had served its purpose for most of his life. He pushed any and all negative emotions down to pretend he had a nonexistent ounce of composure to keep and, when it all became too much, he shied away from society and let hell break loose.
Peg, on the other hand, was much more committed to her sanity. After bad news, she gave herself ten to twenty minutes to cry, scream or fight, and then she got back up wordlessly and tackled the world. She was stronger than mostly everyone he’d ever met. She just refused to lose, so when life got her down on her knees, she brushed off the dust and spat in its face. She was determined like that. Strong. Resilient.
And BJ respected and admired her for it, because instead of crumbling down, she assessed the situation and decided on a course of action. She accepted it or fought it. She would embrace a dark reality if necessary, but she would defy the darkness by not allowing it to dim her light. And she did.
“Ten minutes, darling. Give me ten fucking minutes.” She said, the day BJ got drafted. After comforting him and cradling Erin in her arms for a few more seconds, she disappeared into a room.
BJ heard her sob, but he didn’t go in. She wouldn’t appreciate it, and he was in shock, looking at his little girl and trying to get it in his head that he had to leave her, her rosy cheeks, her chubby hands, her little toothless smile, her crying in the dead of the night, the warmth that she made his heart explode in. He had to leave her for something as stupid and senseless as war.
And Peg.
Peg who had locked herself up and whose quiet sniffles made it past the paper walls. Who he had promised his life to.
He had to leave her too.
Her laughter, her comfort, his heart and soul.
God, he had to leave them.
Ten minutes later, not one second more, he heard her heels against the wooden floor, the click-clack approaching him. She sounded determined. Her pace wasn’t desperate, but neither was it dubious. You could know a lot about a woman’s state of mind by the sound of her heels, and BJ knew that she meant business. It was confirmed as soon as she appeared at the doorstep, her eyes red-rimmed but her cheeks dried, sniffling but not pouting, her lips a straight line.
“You’ve been crying.” She noted, the first step towards a conversation that neither wanted to start. She walked up to the couch in front of the armchair BJ was rocking himself in, trying to keep himself from falling apart, and smoothed out her dress before taking a seat.
“That makes two of us.” He replied, resting his chin on his fist.
He looked at her in the eyes, waiting. He saw the way she mustered up the courage to speak, how she pursed her lips, then straightened out, then interlocked her fingers and started playing with her wedding ring.
She let out a deep breath and slouched, defeated.
“I love you.” She said.
“I love you too.” BJ replied.
“And I have been thinking. I want you to promise me something.”
Oh, no. Not this.
BJ had heard the horror stories, all the ‘Dear Jane’ letters that destroyed marriages before they even got a chance to begin, the lonely soldiers breaking vows and hearts all around, the lonely housewives letting men into a house that no longer felt like home and starting the end with a ‘Dear John.’
BJ had heard the horror stories, and he refused to be one.
“I’m never cheating on you, Peg.” He replied, almost indignant, hurt that she could think he’d ever let go of them, no matter how tough things got.
Her brow furrowed in slight confusion as she chuckled. “Thanks for the reminder.”
“That’s not—“
“Not what I was gonna say, no.” She confirmed, a sad smile on her lips.
“So what was it?” He felt hot blood rush to his cheeks in embarrassment.
“Well… I know you’re not big on talking, but I need you to write, honey.”
Write.
BJ used to write her tons of letters, especially throughout med school. His hands were so cramped from taking notes in class and endless study-sessions, but he still made an effort to write thousands of promises, millions of ‘I love you’s.’ But those were love letters.
Those were easy, despite the pain.
How do you even write home about war? BJ couldn’t believe ever wanting to make her go through that.
“You’re the author.” He tried to gently get away with a soft no, “I don’t know my way around an Oxford comma like you do.”
“And you’re smart enough to know when to test me.” She snapped, not allowing BJ to talk his way out of a serious conversation. Not this time.
He settled, averting his eyes as he thought. Of what, she didn’t know, but she didn’t really care either. She needed him to promise.
She shuffled closer, took his tight closed fist in her hands and searched for his gaze.
“You’re also brave enough to go where demons fear to set foot, strong enough to survive it and I have no doubt you’ll be lucky enough to come back in one piece.” She said, her words revering as she squeezed his hand, mourning the fact that she couldn’t sound more reassuring. “You… you’ve always been honest with me, and the day we took those vows I knew you meant it when we said we were going to share our lives with each other. I know you to be a generous man, BJ, so share. Your thoughts, your fears, your heart… and I’ll share what little light I can shine upon a dark place.”
She noticed that her words had an effect on her husband, but it wasn’t the one she was hoping for. BJ’s hands started trembling as he let out a shaky breath, he gulped audibly and tensed his jaw in a useless attempt at trying to compose himself.
He looked one blow away from shattering… and Peg feared she would throw him over the edge. Although that might be exactly what he needed, a catalyst to let out some of the feelings he was trying to bottle up.
“This isn’t just dark, Peg.” BJ finally squeezed back, his teary eyes finding Peg’s hopeful ones. “It’s war.”
She pursed her lips, knowing that nothing she said would be comfort enough for a man about to leave his family. BJ started shaking in frustration, ashamed of the tears that were pooling in his eyes.
He was scared.
Terrified.
And there was something else… something lurking underneath his restless skin.
Share it with me.
“I don’t wanna go, I— I don’t wanna leave you.” He confessed, and he instantly hated himself for it. He had to be strong, brave, all the things Peg thought he was. He felt his heart constrict in agony.
“Because you’re a good man.” Peg reassured him, kneeling before him as he tried to shy away from her. She cupped his cheeks, gentle yet determined. “Look at me, BJ Hunnicutt. You’re a good man. And you’ll come back to us.”
“You don’t know that, Peg.” He whispered, resigned.
His eyes were so beautiful, and so full of fear…
Hopelessness.
That’s what she couldn’t recognize.
Because BJ was resourceful. He was imaginative, proud, confident and ingeniously clever. He was gifted in so many ways and, above anything, he was proud. Proud enough to rarely ever admit that he’s wrong, confused, that there is no way out. He doesn’t give up.
And yet, he couldn’t find anything to hold on to in that sea of doubt. What was his fate to be, out where blood and guns reign over words, if he was already feeling so lost before he was gone?
Peg smiled sadly, keeping her own tears in. Her voice came out choked as she replied.
“I don’t doubt that, honey. And when you come back, we’ll be whole again. I promise, darling. I promise I’ll wait for every letter, and I’ll dream every night of your return. You’ve never disappointed me, and I know you won’t start now.”
BJ didn’t believe her, but he still nodded, finding in her trust the strength to try. He sniffled, and she kissed his forehead softly, keeping her lips pressed to his skin for just a second too long. She smoothed down the hair on his nape and looked at him one last time.
God, how she hated war.
And how she loved that man.
She found a little solace —just a smidge of it— in knowing that he wouldn’t go through it alone. That, despite the distance, she was going to be there for him, and that it had to be enough. That he was going to find people that cared about him, because he was friendly and generous, kind and supportive. He wouldn’t be alone.
When Peg fell asleep, BJ carefully unwrapped himself from her arms, walked around the house they’d built together through sweat and tears, and committed it to memory. He made it his mission to remember the exact placement of the furniture they’d inherited from his late parents, the white crib they’d put together between yelling and laughing, the black, long eyelashes that rested on his daughter’s rosy cheeks. He promised himself he’d never take this for granted, because it could be taken away any moment, and so he scanned all the pictures they’d hung on the walls, as if they could travel with him if he focused hard enough and tried not to forget the color-palette that painted them.
But BJ wasn’t a nostalgic man.
Hawkeye was.
He loved the past. He lived in it half the time, although that might just be because, when BJ met him, his present was hell and his future was looking dark and grim.
So Hawkeye got drunk, had sex, and joked around until it inevitably escaped in the form of tears and self-deprecation. And he hurt himself, and his brain supplied terrifying images, and his mind played tricks against him in his nightmares, and his body betrayed him when he felt like he couldn’t breath and gasped, he tore up his skin and was pulled under by the weight of the blood on his conscience.
And when mail made it through the barriers, and he received outdated copies of Crabapple’s Cove newspapers, he ate them up. He cherished every letter his father sent him, often reread them out of pure boredom or what he thought was a subtle method of escapism. He listened to the same old music, hooked up with the same old people, and laughed at the same old jokes until he felt like the person he used to be.
A person who could sleep and laugh and feel.
A person who was whole.
When BJ hugged him for the last time, he held to him like a lifeline. His fists tightened in his jacket, he couldn’t force himself to let go. And BJ didn’t know it back then, but he was trying to make every agonising second count. He tried to seize every millisecond, and counted the freckles on his neck. He observed carefully, and made a mental note, forced himself to remember how the wind ruffled his greying hair, how his voice choked up with emotion, how he opened up his heart to leave with no regrets.
Not when it came to him.
He remembered the way Hawk’s pulse beat like crazy, how warm his wrist was under BJ’s fingers. How his cheeks smelled of Tokyo’s cheapest aftershave and his breath smelled of Korea’s cheapest martinis, the still they’d built together abandoned in the tent they’d never come back to.
They’d divided their belongings, a while earlier. The trinkets and knick-knacks they’d been collecting for years, that had made the primal space feel more like a home. Hawkeye took the dartboard, some posters, and the clock that had two waxed legs in heels pointing at the numbers.
BJ wouldn’t miss them.
But what hurt him more than any bullet, and he didn’t understand why, was watching Hawkeye take his red bathrobe from the hook it lived in and put it away. What he mourned above it all was that Hawkeye had left and had taken his smile with him. His incessant touch. His terrible jokes. He’d taken part of him.
And BJ would be crazy and compelled to drive himself to a psychiatric institution if he dared to admit he missed anything about that godforsaken place.
He wasn’t nostalgic.
He wasn’t melancholic.
But still, he found himself walking up to the attic, climbing the stairs hesitantly but surely guided by the ghost of a friend who gently pushed him towards his footlocker.
That’s where he kept anything related to Korea, as if hiding it and letting it collect dust would somehow separate the two parts of his life. As if the war wouldn’t bleed into his Mill Valley fantasy as long as that Pandora’s box stayed closed… because who would want to remember any of that?
BJ didn’t look at the past.
He stayed in the present, however bad that was. And he looked to the future, always hoping for another day. A different one.
BJ didn’t look at the past.
Unless his best friend in the whole world had suddenly disappeared from the face of the Earth, no letters for months, no news to share, no handwriting to replace his voice, leaving BJ with no chance but to relive memories instead of creating —expecting— new ones.
So fuck Hawkeye, for making him sit in front of the engraved ‘Captain B.J Hunnicutt, U.S Army’ inscription. Fuck him for making him open up the heavy lid with a heavy heart, grab the letters he’d never thought to read, and hold them in his hands as if somehow that made them a little closer.
Fuck Hawkeye, he thought, for taking away his smile, and his touch, and now even his words.
In Korea, BJ had sometimes wished that the other man shut up, but the silence was deafening, maddening.
And BJ couldn’t bear it.
And so he went back to the times where they were together, to the letters he addressed to Peg Hunnicutt.
And he read.
Chapter 2: Lift your head and look out the window (listen the birds sing, listen the bells ring)
Summary:
BJ reads the letters and realizes something. Peg does, too. They talk.
Notes:
DISCLAIMER: This chapter includes a lot of references to MASH episodes, too many to mention, so please keep in mind that some (most?) of what happens in the letters is series canon!
(Some that I remember from the top of my head are: Welcome to Korea, Oh how we danced, Period of Adjustment, and The Light that Failed)TW: Canon-typical depression and situations. If you think that reading BJ's thoughts in Korea might trigger you, please skip past the italics!
Hope you enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Dear Peg,
This place is crazy.
There’s blood everywhere, I’ve seen more guts five minutes in here than in all my years in the med school, residency and all, and I don’t know how I’m writing this letter ‘cause I can’t feel my hands.
I miss you, and I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s lonely here. The food is not edible. The ambience is tense. There’s always a mix of general frustration, sleep-deprivation, existential exhaustion and unfiltered rage in the air.
Everywhere but near this guy. Hawkeye, they call him. Benjamin Franklin Pierce. He’s a captain, like me, but he’s been in this hellhole for “a few eternities,” as he says. He’s fun and nice enough to hold my hair as I was throwing up my guts (because apparently there’s never enough guts in Korea.) I think I’ll stay close to him. He seems to like me, and hell, I like him too.
I don’t know about friendship, but I’m sure as hell there’s a story here to tell our little girl.
Shit, choppers incoming.
I love you, honey.
I miss you.
Love,
your BJ.”
~~
Dear Peg,
Hawk and I are currently in R&R in Tokyo. Finally! I’ll try to send you a souvenir, if I find anything worth mailing (or capable of surviving the journey.)
The trip here was the first moment I felt actual hope since I arrived, even though Hawk had been driving the jeep and that would be enough to make MacArthur call off all the war efforts and just let him drive around instead. I promise there won’t be anything left standing when he’s done. It was good feeling a different kind of fear, though.
I wish I could explain it, but leaving the 4077th behind with Hawk by my side made me smile like nothing has these past few weeks.
Speaking of the devil, he’s insisted we catch a local theatre gig tonight, and there’s no stopping that drunk, so I better entertain him, lest he finds out I’ve chosen the best bed.
Please, send me updated pictures of Erin, and let me know how that job interview went. I’m sure you blew their minds, honey. You’re amazing.
Love, BJ.
~~
Dearest Peg,
I can’t believe what you and Hawk did.
I’m not ashamed to admit I cried like a baby. God, I love you, I love you, I love you so much it hurts, but tonight it hurts a little less despite the distance.
Happy anniversary, darling. I can’t believe how lucky I am to be married to such a wonderful woman. I won’t dance with you tonight, and I won’t be able to hold you, but guess who I’ll dream of when I close my eyes.
I love you,
BJ.
~~
Dear Peg,
Today was hard.
The hardest day since I’ve been here.
Days, I suppose.
I haven’t slept in over 48 hours, I just patched up a seventeen-year-old who enlisted illegally to follow his older brother. Burns operated on him. God, I hate him, and sometimes I wonder what side he’s on. He’s such an incompetent surgeon, it’s a miracle we’re saving anyone.
It seemed both would be home by the end of the week with a purple heart, memories that would always haunt them, and a few injuries they would never recover from… but then something went wrong, the kid stopped responding to treatment, and his big brother watched him die before his eyes.
He took a scalpel and slit his throat right before mine. I was covered in red by the time I could get to his limp body, and we were able to save him, Hawk and I.
What did we save him for, though?
We “save” 97% of our patients, and 99% of them just go out into the field shortly after, either to be killed in action or returned home with empty, purple hearts. That’s how good we are at our jobs.
This kid lost his kid brother, his left leg, his will to live, his sanity, and the chance at a normal life, a boring life like the one you and I got to experience even for a little bit before this mess.
What a hero I turned out to be, huh?
Desperately,
BJ
~~
My darling Peg,
Thank you for the cookies. We loved them, but it seems we have reached a general consensus around camp, and all the guys and some nurses asked me to tell you to please label the jars back at home. I thought the salt was a nice twist, but Charles doesn’t agree.
Can you send a fresh batch for next week? About 200? Hawk’s birthday is coming up, and I have the perfect idea. Don’t change the recipe at all! It’s all part of the plan.
I’m leaving everyone in camp one of your delicious trap cookies by their bedside table with a note ‘written by Hawkeye,’ tell them something about how ‘his birthday is all about sharing’ and when everyone tries it, chaos will reign. I’m giving them just a tiny bit of hope and taking it away from them, so that when the actual edibles arrive no one will want to try his cake and he’ll have a sugar bomb all to himself. My birthday gift to him is diabetes.
I trust you’ll help me, honey. The chance of Hawk getting a whole birthday cake relies on you. (We’ve had some boring days, if you can’t already tell, but I’ll take those over gore anytime!)
I owe him so much —too much to ever be able to repay him— and if I can make him smile, truly smile, then I’ll be just a bit closer to the end of my debt. Although, I gotta say, the asshole keeps adding to it… he seems to understand me better than I ever thought anyone out here could, and he makes an effort to help every time, in that selflessly messy way of his. When my mind’s too loud, he offers quiet reassurances. When my anger’s silently simmering inside of me, he tells loud jokes. He invents games when we’re bored and tells stories when we need to escape the war.
He’s something, our Hawkeye. Someone special. A special cake could help cheer him up, he’s had a rough couple of days… Potter won’t let him send a search party for his pet moth that flew away last night.
I miss you and Erin like crazy, you can’t imagine how the days here all slot together and turn into a big green mess.
I hope your Aunt Betty is okay. Sending my best wishes from the worst place on Earth.
Love you,
BJ.
~~
Dear Peg,
Yesterday was one of the worst days of my life.
I punched Hawkeye. I’m so ashamed I can barely look at him, I feel extremely guilty every time I see the bruise on his eye, and he— he’s been great.
After I physically assaulted him, he listened to me and held me while I cried. He walked me to bed, took off my shoes, put my blanket over me and— god, he’s too good, Peg. He’s too good and I’m a fucking asshole. I hit the best friend I ever had and he just forgave me like that, like I hadn’t broken every unsaid rule in our friendship. I can’t believe I did that.
The man I’m turning into.
There’s this rage inside of me, this anger and bitterness that seems to just grow and grow, and I thought I could control it but it’s already slipping out. I can’t help it.
I hurt him, Peg.
And he keeps joking around, rubbing my shoulders and pulling me into stupid crusades as if nothing had happened. He keeps just being there for me, like that first day, and is it selfish of me to want to leave it behind, too? When I’m beside him, everything feels right for a second, because I don’t need to pretend that I’m okay, or well adjusted. He’s crazy… and he gives me permission to be nuts, too.
He accepts me even when I behave like a total jerk. I don’t deserve him, but I won’t push him out of my side again, I can promise you that. I don’t think I could survive that.
I don’t know what I would do without him.
How are you?
I love you,
BJ
~~
Dear Peg,
Klinger messed up our mail (again) so please forgive me if this letter arrives later than you expected…
(it’s times like this I really miss Radar.)
You both look beautiful in your latest picture. I laughed out loud at the story about Erin and the rats, but please don’t let our little girl get bitten by animals that carry diseases. She definitely takes after you, so I don’t think you’re gonna have any luck preventing it… Just have the car ready to take her to the hospital if necessary.
Hawk loved the jam you sent last time, he insists I beg you for more. He also forced me to tell you that “no matter what it takes, that recipe will be mine. I’ll marry into the family if that’s what it takes.” I really don’t picture Hawk with your sister, but he’s a desperate man with about no amount of self-respect left, so I would take it as a threat and consider giving it up.
On a different note, we saw Sidney today! You’d love him, Peg, he’s the most easygoing person I’ve ever met, although that might be because he’s the most well-adjusted out here in our little corner of the world. We had a poker game with Margaret, Father Mulcahy, Potter, Charles, and Hawk and I. We’re 20 dollars richer, by the way, because Hawk is only as reckless with his betting as he is with his ideas. At this rate, he’ll be paying for Erin’s tuition.
STT Your husband is a cheating rat. Although I will gladly pay for Erin’s tuition, just wait til I make enough hours as a lady of the night. STT
(Sorry for the struckthrough words and the interruption, Hawk went through my personal correspondence, AGAIN, and messed it up. This guy knows less than me about boundaries. I should know, I keep stealing his socks.)
STT I KNEW IT! Keep your husband in check, Peggy Jane Hunnicutt, he’s a mean one. He’s like an all-year grinch… he’s certainly got the height and kleptomania. You were supposed to make him an honest man… please get on with it when he gets home. STT
I’m gonna start leaving this under key… as if that would prevent it. I do think we should give some thought to his career change. He’s got good legs and probably knows how to walk in heels.
He has even better hands, which comes in handy when there’s choppers incoming, like right now. It’s gonna be a long night, so wish me luck, dear, and send a little prayer for me if you can spare the time… although I really doubt God’s really concerned about this. He might’ve sent the flood earlier.
Love you and miss you,
BJ.
~~
Dearest Peg,
Hawkeye had the stupidest idea today, but I think it might just be stupid enough to work.
~~
Darling Peg,
We started a book club! Boredom is slowly killing us and it felt like it was too long since I last used my brain, so I am gonna need you to please send some reading material. Potter has forbidden golfing in the minefield, so we’re begging you to take us out of our misery. Hawk requests the nude volleyball finals calendar, but I think we’re old enough to read without pictures, so I suggest a short story… do we still have that copy of Pinocchio? Anything is good enough.
Now seriously, please send whatever you want. We’re out of crosswords, and Hawk has been scouring for every paper from every state on campus for the last three days to no avail.
~~
My Peg,
I think I’m losing my mind.
An invisible rooster keeps waking everyone up at ungodly hours. I don’t know when’s the last time I had three consecutive hours of sleep, and I’m seriously considering killing three people consecutively and offering them as human sacrifices if that shuts it up. Your husband might come home a murderer, just for the record, and it’s gonna be poultry’s fault.
The only thing that’s keeping me sane is Hawkeye, our resident nut job. He found a way to soundproof some of our walls, I’m 90% sure he exchanged his virginity for the materials, so remind me to kiss him after I get some shuteye.
I’m writing from my cot, about to finally fall asleep, but I just wanted to tell you that I’ll use that first dream to see you and our little girl.
Love you,
BJ.
~~
"Darling,” BJ heard Peg’s voice snapping him out of his reminiscing. She carefully approached where he was sitting on the floor against a wall, and sat beside him. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” He replied, taking the letters and stacking them up, if only to have something to do with his hands. It took him a second to realize where he was, to take in the scenery and realise that there was no dartboard, no still in a corner, no martini glasses around and certainly not a dirty clock.
She nodded thoughtfully, but there was something in her eyes when she looked at those letters.
“Well, I’m glad to hear that.” She let it go, and rested her hair against the wall. BJ mimicked her, and offered up his hand, palm up.
“Did you get Erin to fall asleep?”
“Yup.” She took his hand, smiling softly as he kissed the back of it, his moustache scratching satisfyingly against her soft skin. “Only had to bribe her this time.”
“She’s going places.” BJ smirked. “We should get her into one of those gifted kid programs; the way she negotiates…”
“She’s a shark. She smells the tiniest hint of blood and attacks.” She laughed quietly. The attic was directly above Erin’s bedroom, and she wouldn’t risk waking her up. “But we’re gonna need to teach her to get along with the little fish.”
“I s’ppsose so, yeah… today, when I picked her up from school, she came in with two lunchboxes. Turns out she offered a kid ‘a magical rock’ in exchange for his brand new Superman lunchbox.” BJ proudly told the story, focusing on Peg's unsurprised, entertained reaction.
“Did you–?”
“Yeah, we gave it back.” he begrudgingly confirmed.
She smiled in amusement. “Attaboy.”
“Although we did keep the sweets inside.”
"Well, it’s only fair,” Peg shrugged. “After all, she did give him a magical rock.”
BJ laughed.
He squeezed her hand softly as they told each other all about their day. These past week, between their jobs and Erin, their time had been stretched out thin. Things were finally going back to normal, though…
Except for the void in BJ’s heart. The uneasiness when he went to bed. The unexplainable way his skin crawled when he got dressed in the morning, put on his socks and his shoes. A feeling of dread when he was driving to work, not for the job, but for something else… something that was missing.
But he didn’t need to bother Peg with that, she had enough on her plate already. And besides, it’s not like he had identified the problem yet. Maybe the feeling would go on its own and, in that case, it would be stupid to bring it up and worry her.
He’d been told that army vets had a hard time adjusting to everyday, normal things –like routines and sleep schedules– when they came back. It was natural.
He wasn’t crazy this time, or so he hoped.
He was okay.
“Should we head to the bedroom? I have to wake up early tomorrow.” She yawned, resting her head on BJ’s shoulder, and he felt a pang of tenderness rush through his veins. He kissed her forehead softly.
“I’ll never say no to getting you to bed.” He got up, stretching his back and cursing himself for not having found a better position.
She huffed a laugh. “Would you say no to carrying me? I’m knackered.”
“My darling wife, for you I’ll even avoid tripping down the stairs.” He let the letters fall inside the footlocker, closed the lid with his foot and picked her up swiftly. “Please, keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times.”
“Ready for take-off, captain.”
“The flight will be thirty seconds, we’ll reach a maximum height of 6ft. Thanks for flying with us.”
BJ carried her to bed —like he’d done so many years before, on a very special day where a very special girl wore a very special white dress— and she (much like that very night) kissed him senseless.
“I love you.” Peg whispered when they finally settled for bed.
“Me too, darling.” BJ replied, nothing but honest.
And nothing but honest he remained for the whole sleepless night, when he found himself going through that old correspondence in his mind and realized that the pit in his stomach had a name.
Years of words and memories came back to haunt him in a flash of surprise and understanding:
I think I’ll stay close to him. He seems to like me, and hell, I like him too.
leaving the 4077th behind with Hawk by my side made me smile like nothing has these past few weeks.
he seems to understand me better than I ever thought anyone out here could
When I’m beside him, everything feels right for a second,
I don’t know what I would do without him.
The only thing that’s keeping me sane is Hawkeye.
Oh…
Oh.
How could he have been so stupid?
It seemed so obvious now, every graze of Hawk’s fingers on his skin and his reaction, so familiar to the touch of Peg’s hands on his cheeks. It seemed moronic to not have noticed that what he was feeling now, he’d felt once before. That missing Hawkeye in California felt hauntingly similar —if diluted by the situation— to missing Peg in Korea.
That the pain was the same, and the comfort as well. All the times Peg had tried to make him feel more at home ever since he came back, by distracting him with late-night dates and home cooked meals… all the times Hawkeye had tried to make him feel more comfortable in Korea, by distracting him with charades and what little he could come up with to make him smile.
The ownership of his heart had been divided, carved in his aorta were the initials of his wife, and his vena cava had been claimed by his best friend.
Peg… and Hawkeye.
The woman who had promised to always be there despite the distance, and the man who refused to leave him even though they were a country apart. They worked together to keep his heart beating, to keep his lungs from giving up.
He jumped out of bed just as soon as he could force his muscles to move, the revelation having shocked him to his score. He trembled his way into the bathroom and sat down on the floor against the sink, anxiously burying his face in his hands.
God, what was he gonna do…?
Underneath the fear and uncertainty, he couldn’t deny there was a shy excitement, a giddy sensation. He had figured it out, he had put a name to that needy feeling. His soul had been touched by Benjamin Franklin Pierce, and all the good times spent together barged in despite the gravity of the situation.
He was happy, just knowing that he wasn’t broken, that it all made sense. That that sinking feeling… it was good.
A few blissful seconds afterwards, his eyes focused on a pair of pink slippers beside the sink, and the question fell on him again like a bucket of ice water. What was he gonna do?
Dread pooled in his diaphragm.
His eyes watered, defeat replaced all previous excitement.
Nothing.
He couldn’t do anything, because he wouldn’t break his vow to his wife. He would always be honest to her.
So the tragic answer was that he wouldn’t do anything at all.
He buried his face in his hands again, let out shaky breaths as he tried to compose himself at the wake of a dawning, tragic realization… he had to give someone up. He was destined to a life of longing, one way or another. Yearning, missing, dreaming. The life of BJ Hunnicutt.
And it had to be Hawkeye, because Peg had been there first, and he had a duty on top of all the crazy, deep-rooted passion he felt for her. He had to give up Hawkeye, even though he was part of the reason he was still alive in the first place.
A single tear slid down his cheek.
He wasn’t a melancholic man. He wasn’t nostalgic.
He didn’t use to be, back when he had it all.
And when he finally looked up, ready to leave this claustrophobic room —ready to run from his claustrophobic heart, trapped within the confines of the sharp ribs that poked at it— he was blown apart in an instant. Perched on the door there was Peg’s purple bathrobe, and BJ’s blue… but there wasn’t a red one by their side.
There was room, the door was big, the bathrobes small. There was room for one more.
But Hawk’s red bathrobe wasn’t there.
And the fact that it wasn’t made his breath hitch, but the fact that he somehow had expected it to be there pulled him back to the floor like gravity.
What was wrong with him?
So he loved two people, fine! He could live with that, and with the loss that it brought… Peg and Erin deserved better than a selfish husband and father. He wasn’t going to sabotage himself into giving up what he’d been fighting for years to go back to. He wasn’t going to risk his life for—
Oh, but he would. He would do it in a heartbeat.
He’d risk his life for Hawkeye, he’d done it time and time again, and would do it for eternity. He’d give up his heart, he’d send half of it in a nice, neat package to Maine tomorrow if it were necessary. He’d give up his sanity and his pride, and yearn for someone a thousand miles away. But —as much as he could tear himself apart for Hawk, he couldn’t risk his family in the crossfire. It just wasn’t right.
But loving him wasn’t wrong… It never had been. It was only natural that he fell for the man who’d driven him insane and put him back together for years.
It was unfair, to everyone invoved.
To Peg, and to Hawkeye. There were rules in life, rules that even BJ couldn’t bend or ignore. Duties to fulfill.
And it was unfair to himself to be living underwater again, only allowed to truly breathe when the mailman came with an envelope that carried the illusion of a life he was never meant to touch. It was a different kind of hell, to be forced to wait for weeks at a time for words that felt so insufficient for a love so great.
In Korea, he had one dream. Back in America, it remained, albeit in a different direction.
But he could do it… right?
He’d survived it once before, under the Korean moon. He could make it out again, under American stars.
He had to.
~~
He only lasted a week before Peg confronted him.
“Alright, out with it.” She crossed her arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. She’d just put a pie in the oven and dried her hands in the apron, apparently impatient. Her eyes stared directly into BJ’s soul with an inquisitive quality.
“I think you missed the first part of the sentence there, honey…” BJ pretended confusion as he opened the newspaper he’d already read and scanned it again, as if the words might change simply by wishing them to.
He knew exactly what she was referring to, to the black cloud that had been raining over him for days, to the hours it took him to fall asleep, to the way that he looked to his side and mourned the empty space. He had tried to not let it show, to pretend his fuse wasn’t shorter and to mumble job-related excuses that she couldn’t deny.
He needed to get better at it. Although, he thought bitterly, he had his whole life to practice walking around with half his heart unmoving and perfect all the empty ‘I’m fine, don’t worry about it’ reassurances. Someday, BJ would convince even himself that it wasn’t a lie. Not today, though.
“Don’t play dumb, it won’t work. I’ve given you time to let it out with no results, so you need a little nudge.”
“This is not a nudge, it’s a pointless interrogation. I’m fine.”
Huh, still not true. Maybe next time.
“Wanna try again?” She picked up a lamp and turned the light directly to his face. BJ shielded his eyes with an annoyed huff.
“I didn’t do it. I won’t say another word without my lawyer. Oh, and I plead the fifth. And whatever happened, of which I know nothing about, I’m completely innocent and I have an alibi.”
Peg rolled her eyes at his antics, “that’s the last time I let you watch The Accused.”
“I’m sure there are other good Loretta Young films out there. She was good, don’t you think?” BJ glanced at her nonchalantly, then saw that the oven light was still off. “Oven.”
“I thought Robert Cummings wasn’t bad either,” she pointedly replied as she turned on the temperature she’d forgotten to set. BJ forced himself not to react in any way despite the taunt… was it a taunt? Maybe it was just a harmless, normal, everyday comment. But she was too smart for that. “I also thought you held my intelligence in a higher regard.”
“I hold all of you in a higher regard than you believe.” He closed the paper with a huff. The same old boring stories he’d read ten minutes before… how did they dare call it news! “Especially your brain.”
“Alright then, quit dilly-dallying, the sooner we get this over, the better. What’s up, Bernard John?”
BJ shot her an unimpressed look. Every time she wanted to get a reaction out of him, she invented a new name for a couple of letters that didn’t stand for anything… he never should’ve used that old phrase on her (‘it stands for anything you want!’ he’d stupidly replied when she’d first asked…) how could he have known she would take it seriously for the rest of their lives?
“Nothing.” He insisted, unbothered. He was used to his wife’s taunting techniques, and he had to give her points for creativity.
“Are you sure, Bobby Jean?” She carried on, stealing his cup of coffee and drinking what remained.
“Sure as hell.” He stubbornly played along.
“Do you know what day it is, Billy Jack?”
“March?” Was his unhelpful reply, coupled with a self-satisfied grin.
“Almost, it’s the fourteenth of September.” She crossed her legs, leaning back on her chair with a stare that BJ knew meant he’d been caught. What for, he couldn’t really tell yet. “Today marks three months since you last heard from Hawkeye.”
He didn’t steel his expression fast enough.
She won.
He sighed.
“So what, Sherlock?”
“So you’ve been cranky for all of last week, and I couldn’t figure why… that is, of course, until I remembered when all of this started. I had to trace it back and do some heavy thinking, and it brought me to your footlocker, to that night where you read letter after letter for hours, and I figured something was wrong…” She narrated, proud of herself but still careful with her wording. Direct but gentle, aware of all the effort BJ had put into secrecy. “Long story short, one Captain Benjamin Franklin Pierce is turning 32 tomorrow.”
“No kidding!,” he sarcastically replied, crossing his legs as well.
“And still no invitation for his birthday party?” She nudged him with her shoe. BJ got up and carried all the dishes to the sink.
“Those are for friends only.” He muttered under his breath.
“What’s going on, BJ? What is it with you and Hawk, did you say something?”
“Me?” He chuckled darkly, “I’m saying everything, he’s the one that refuses to write a line or two, let a pal know he’s alive.”
“Maybe he’s busy.”
“Maybe he’s bored, hitched up, or dead in a ditch. Maybe his hand’s broken, or he’s in a coma, or a meteor blew up Crabapple Cove with all its lobsters and physicians. How should I know?” He aggressively turned on the water and spilled an obscene amount of soap into the sponge. “It’s not like he’s writing.”
“Alright, so he’s not writing. What else?”
“What do you mean, what else? Isn’t that enough?”
“Yes, it is enough to make you mad, but not furious enough to try to scrape the painting off our wedding dishes.” She pointed out, and BJ forced himself to calm down a little. So much for not letting her get to the bottom of things.
He sighed, trying to figure out a way around his hurt.
“Stop that,” she warned, as if she could read his mind, and maybe she could. She tried to sound nonchalant, but she was clearly frustrated. “Do you want me to figure it out myself? Because I can, but I might just need a few more hours, my dear Watson. I figured it would be easier to communicate with my husband than carrying out a full investigation.”
BJ almost wanted to invite her to try, so he could finally let go of the gruesome truth: that the shell of the man who came back home brought along the ghost of another man with him. And maybe that way, they could figure out a plan. He could promise to never act upon those feelings, and she could forget all about it. He could try, every day of his life, to make this enough. Because it deserved to be. She deserved to be enough. She was everything…
God, he hated himself.
“I miss him.” He said as if it were no big deal, frowning and pursing his lips.
As close enough to the truth as he would allow himself to get.
A beat. A second that stretched too long, BJ’s pulse racing like a formula one car bracing for collision.
“I know, darling.”
“No, you don’t.” He whispered, unable to stop himself because he couldn’t stand deceiving her but he couldn’t bring himself to speak up.
He was full of contradictions.
“Yes, I think I do.” She slouched in her chair, her gaze lost somewhere out the window. She frowned like she always did when she tried to solve a complicated riddle, or get them out of a weird situation. “Tell me something… what did you miss about me most, when you were in Korea?”
He huffed, disbelieving. What a stupid question.
Everything.
Running his fingers through her hair, the familiar weight of her head on his lap when they fell on the couch after a long day. Her nails scratching his nape, and how she sometimes came up to him, with a needle and thread, and undressed before him wordlessly so he could mend her broken skirt or blouse. ‘I’ll pay with a kiss, but it better last.’ How words were unnecessary half the time, but they still ended up talking for hours, sharing stupid jokes and anecdotes. Her soft skin, and how her perfume changed every few months, having grown bored of some part of its composition. How every time she knocked the door, it was to the tune of the song they’d danced to on their wedding day.
He had even missed all the arguments, and the apologies that came afterwards. How he’d had to swallow his pride for years, because she was almost always right, and how that turned him into a better person. The times she didn’t accept help, and insisted she’d fix the sink herself, save them a few bucks, even if that left them without running water for days. How she always forgot to leave the beverages in the fridge, forcing them to drink warm wine at best, and scalding hot beers at worst.
“Your blow dryer. The weather really messed with my hair.”
She had the decency to smile, and what a smile. He had to add that to the list.
“And my cooking, of course.” She played along, unable to help herself. Still, the glint in her eyes conveyed an urgency that BJ knew wouldn’t go away.
“I missed it all, Peg. The good, the bad and the ugly. I missed all of you, especially the present I was missing and the future I wasn’t sure would ever come.” He confessed, loud and clear, because he would never shy away from an opportunity to let her know that every day without her had been dim and lacking, and the prospect of a life without her, unbearable.
She nodded, thoughtful and satisfied with his answer.
“What do you miss about him right now?”
BJ’s breath caught up in his throat along with the truth.
He missed the smell of Hawk’s aftershave, and how he always rested his head on any part of his body that was available. He missed his laugh, the red ball of yarn that always ended up tying his hands, his laugh, and how Hawk bumped into him every time they walked because he couldn’t seem to follow a straight line. How it took him hours to fall asleep, and the conversations that ensued, the bedtime stories, the sneezes that felt like aftershocks, the songs they sang when they showered side by side, the stubbornness. He missed his neurotic complaints, his strained line of thinking, the intricate word games, the stupid fights over socks and privacy. When he was in the O.R, he missed someone to talk to in riddles and unfunny jokes, and coming back home, he missed the incessant singing, ranting or whistling.
And that goddamned bathrobe that had turned his life upside down.
The good, the bad and the ugly… the present I am missing and the future I’m not sure will ever come.
He told Peg as much.
“I see.” She nodded again, as if he hadn’t just admitted to the worst imaginable sin, as if she was just cataloguing the facts in a mental notepad. BJ kept quiet, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She took a deep breath, sat straighter and reconnected their gazes. “When are you leaving?”
“What?” Was she kicking him out? Had it been too much? Had he fucked everything up? “Peg, what is that supposed to mean?”
“Well, you gotta go tell him.” She announced, as if it were obvious. “I fear if you don’t, you might just explode. And I didn’t take care of our daughter only to have her blown up to smithereens by repression, so you need to go tell him.”
“No?” He replied, confused and too stunned to talk.
“What do you mean, no?”
“I’m not telling him anything. God, I shouldn’t have told you anything. This isn’t something you do something about, Peg, this is something you forget, never mention again and we move on from.”
“Well, are you gonna forget it?” She questioned, leaning forward.
“No?” He sighed, “I don’t know, okay? I’m trying, but I don’t know!”
“What don’t you know?”
“I don’t know anything!” He frantically got up, truly puzzled and paced around gesticulating wildly. “Why are you so calm? What is going on? What the hell do you mean by go see him? It isn’t that easy!”
“Let’s look at this from a logical point of view, shall we?” She tried to placate him.
“No, we’re not looking at this from any point of view, we’re closing our eyes! This is not logical, it’s–”
“It’s love, honey.”
And fuck his life, BJ couldn’t argue against that. He felt whiplash as he turned to look at her with dread and guilt, shame and desperation. His feet halted and stayed put as if nailed to the floor.
“I’m sorry, Peg, I’m so sorry.” He felt his throat close up, every apology he could think of insufficient.
“I’m not.” She got up, taking his shaking hands in her firm ones and gently guiding him back to the chair. She kneeled before him, like she’d done that dreadful day. “It is what it is, BJ. And it could be way worse.”
“I never meant for this to happen, I love you so much, Peg, you can’t even imagine. I would never risk our family, I– I don’t want to leave.” He explained, a sense of déjà vu carrying his words.
“We’ll be here when you come back.” She promised, a reassuring smile on her lips. And this time, there wasn’t fear in her eyes, there wasn’t pain. Only certainty. She needed him to see that their bond was strong enough to evolve. “BJ, I once asked you to share your life with me, and you didn’t disappoint. You wrote everything, you let me in. And I read those letters too, I could feel the passion you felt for Hawkeye in every word, the quiet fondness in every paragraph… I did feel threatened, in the beginning, but then I realized it was stupid of me to try and stop the inevitable. You love me.”
“More than anything.” He vowed, fierce and protective of something so precious as their marriage. He loved her deeply and irremediably, knowing it was going to last forever and unwilling to let go.
“And you love him.” She added.
“I do.” He confirmed tentatively after a few beats, and it was the first time he said it out loud. It was soft and gentle, like something that was too good to be true and still felt like a dream. Like something that was new, exciting and scary. The thrill of young love.
“Well, then we’ll figure it out. I’m a big girl, honey, I know how to share.” She got up from the floor to sit on his knees, caressing his cheeks, combing his hair with her fingers. He looked up at her in admiration and utter devotion.
“What does this mean for us?”
She thought for a second.
“It means that we’re gonna have to step up our communication game, that I trust you completely, and I want you to be happy.”
“Will you be happy?” BJ asked, truly needing to know. He still hadn’t said yes to anything, not until he knew that she was 100% on board and that they were going to be okay.
She stopped to really ponder the reality they were getting themselves into.
“I accepted long ago that your heart was no longer just mine, and…” she breathed in, trying to compose herself. “I won’t lie, it’s not ideal.” She chuckled wetly, “but when has our life been?”
“Peg…”
“No, let me finish, honey. I… I hardly think that the worst that could happen to us is having another person love you as much as I do, the way that I know Hawkeye does. I couldn’t possibly deprive you of that, I wouldn’t want to! And I don’t know how this is going to turn up, but I want you to promise me something, BJ Hunnicutt.”
“Anything.”
“That you’ll still love me just the same.”
“Oh, darling.” He hugged her waist, buried his head in the crook of her neck, “every second that passes I love you more and more. I don’t think I could stop myself even if I tried, and I promise you right here and now, I will never try. I won’t let go of you.”
“That goes double for you.” She smiled, kissing his forehead. “Alright then, let’s see if I can mail a 6ft. present to Crabapple Cove in time for his birthday.”
“Later,” he squeezed her tighter, “just… let’s stay like this for a while longer.”
Peg smiled.
They were going to be okay.
Notes:
Chapter 2/3!! Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!
Chapter 3: Here comes the first day, it starts up in our bedroom after the war
Summary:
BJ goes to Maine, they talk, they fight... Will Hawkeye go to California?
Chapter Text
“Come with me?” BJ asked the following day, standing before Peg and Erin with a light suitcase in hand.
“Someday.” She promised, “but this is something you gotta do yourself. And remember, be very clear and honest. And be gentle, it’s a lot to spring on someone.”
“That was not your modus operandi yesterday,” he frowned.
“Well, desperate times, desperate measures...” She shrugged, turning to their two-year old and saying with a high-pitched voice: “Erin, honey, give daddy a kiss, he’s got to board the plane.”
“Daddy, mwah!” She loudly said when she kissed BJ’s cheek, and the man squeezed the giggly toddler in his arms as he tickled her with his moustache.
“Mwah!” He replied, giving her a last kiss and doing the same with Peg to make her laugh. His wife accepted the kiss gracefully, content and happy, beaming with affection and just a tiny bit of disgust when Erin decided that she deserved a special kiss too and licked her cheek.
“Bring him home, BJ!” She called when he turned around to find his flight. “And call me when you land!”
“Yes!” He waved, and reminded her for good measure: “I love you!”
Peg just smiled, easy and satisfied.
His wife, the matchmaker… BJ was the luckiest man alive.
When he landed in Maine, he suddenly understood why everyone on the plane had a sweater prepared out of the suitcase. In the airport, he had to open up his luggage to find anything weather-appropriate, and some change to call Peg and inform her that the plane hadn’t crashed. As soon as the two points of business had been taken care of, he got into the first cab he’d seen and recited the address he knew by heart.
Half an hour later, he was standing in the front yard of a beautiful, old-style, charming house. There was a garden, which BJ supposed was Daniel’s, that was well-tended, flowers blooming and stems rising from the dirt in a wonderful tone of… green. What did he know about flowers? It was pretty, and the grass was healthy and cut perfectly, and BJ’s first thought had been that Erin would love to mess this place up in the spring, pick up snails and worms from the dirt, make up potions of plants or whatever it was that kids did these days.
He was standing in front of Hawkeye’s home, or at least he thought he was. The number on the door matched the address he’d been sending all his letters to, although half of them had gone unanswered, so that might be a clue that he had to think this over some more. Maybe Hawkeye had moved.
BJ didn’t feel his legs, couldn’t force them to move, but that was alright with him. He still didn’t know what to say, how to start. He’d had hours to think about it, but it was hard to ignore the nausea long enough to let an actual good idea past the line of catastrophic situations his mind had conjured.
His heart wasn’t supposed to beat that fast, it felt like it was trying to jump out of his chest and into a trench to escape the constant onslaught of his anxious machinations. His whole body was shaking like a leaf, and he was sweating oceans. The plane’s food found its way back into his mouth.
Maybe he should check in at the hotel first, freshen up. He didn’t look too hot, he confirmed when he looked at his reflection in the mirror. He was pale and his face seemed stuck in an obvious state of fear.
What am I even doing? What if he doesn’t want to see me? Maybe there’s a reason he wasn’t writing back.
Just as he was turning around in what he decided to call a tactical retreat to get his thoughts in order, a car parked right before the house.
Red lights and sirens filled his brain when he saw Daniel Pierce get out with a handful of files and an empty paper coffee cup. He’d seen the pictures by Hawkeye’s cot, so he knew exactly what he looked like, but even without them BJ would recognize the man. He had Hawk’s eyes, and he walked the same way… lanky and hunched, a lazy stroll indicative of an active mind in action.
And he had stopped in his tracks when he saw BJ, recognition in his face.
“BJ Hunnicutt?” He asked, pleasantly shocked, his mouth open agape.
“Uh… hi.” He flashed a nervous smile, drying his hand on his jeans before stretching it out as a greeting.
Daniel shook it energetically, laughing uncontrollably.
“Why, isn’t this the perfect birthday gift!” He slapped his back, “I got the boy a watch but I think I’m doomed! How come you’re out here, when did you arrive?”
“Just right now, actually,” he said, and cleared his throat when it came out shaky and nervous. “I was thinking of leaving this at the hotel and fres–”
“Nonsense!” Daniel grabbed his suitcase, already walking to the door with a hand between BJ’s shoulder blades. BJ was left to clutch the tin can full of cookies and jam– Peg’s birthday present– with a dead grip. “You’re staying at the Pierce & Pierce Inn, open to just one customer!”
“Why, thank you, but–” he said, almost tripping on the steps to the porch, “I don’t wanna intrude, I…”
“Any friend of Hawkeye’s is a friend of the family, especially a friend as good as you.” He replied, raising his fist to knock on the door.
“Wait!” BJ all but yelled, and the urgency in his tone startled Daniel. He must’ve painted a pretty lousy picture, for the fright turned into compassionate concern in just a millisecond. BJ dried the sweat on his forehead with the sleeve of his sweater, hugging the can to ground himself, closing his eyes momentarily to rearrange his thoughts. “I– I’m sorry, I just…”
Daniel nodded patiently, inviting BJ to sit on the bench. He shook his head, grateful but scared that if he sat down, he might never get up again. The old man left the suitcase on the floor and leaned against the wall, letting BJ think and breathe for as long as he needed to.
“May I ask you something, son?” He started a conversation, two minutes later. “You don’t need to answer, this is just an old man’s curiosity.”
“Of course,” BJ hummed, now calmer but just as indecisive.
“What are you so scared of?”
BJ pursed his lips. He looked into Daniel’s eyes, saw something similar enough to Hawkeye’s, and felt the urge to spill his guts to a man he’d never met.
“I don’t know if it was a good idea.” He confessed, ashamed that a thirty-year old man was having trouble being man enough to face his best friend. “Coming here, I mean. I don’t know if he’ll even want to see me.”
Daniel nodded, taking him seriously.
“Well, I won’t force you to go in or blow your cover, you’re free to stay at a hotel if you’re willing to miss my world-renowned french toast,” he joked lightly, “but I know for a fact your fear is unfounded, and that you’d make a birthday boy incredibly happy with your sole presence.”
BJ smiled at him, honestly grateful.
“You sure?”
“You kiddin’? He can’t stop talking about you!”
“Good stories, I hope.”
“Not for all the generals whose balls you busted.” Daniel punched his shoulder lightly. He was Hawkeye’s father, alright. “Look… I can read that one like an open book, and he misses you like crazy.”
A memory he remembered clear as day made it through the fog, Hawk’s voice giving him confidence: I can’t imagine what this place would’ve been like if I hadn’t found you here…
He’d made it this far… he might as well go all the way.
“Okay then,” he nodded, picking up his suitcase, “let’s get this party started.”
“Attaboy.” Daniel smiled proudly, clamping a hand on his shoulder and squeezing.
BJ took a deep breath in, stood a little straighter…
And knocked.
~~
It hadn’t been as weird or halted as BJ thought it would. Hawkeye was so excited to see him that he jumped around, hugged him tightly and quickly pulled him into one of those easy conversations they were so good at, sitting so close that their thighs touched and BJ could practically smell Hawk’s last meal on his breath.
Daniel had left them alone twenty minutes in to go prepare lunch, claiming that he wasn’t picking anything up, that they were speaking in code and he might as well make himself useful. BJ offered his help, but Pierce Sr. ordered him to sit down and make himself at home, so he did.
It was easy, with Hawk by his side.
And at first, that was fine with BJ. He had missed moments like this so much, he was so busy savoring every word, every chuckle, every sound that came out of Hawkeye’s lips, that he had almost forgotten that there was a reason he missed them so much in the first place.
The three-month mail strike whose perpetrator was sitting in front of him. It had taken a flight and a taxi ride to get something!
Call him petty, but as soon as he remembered, he couldn’t let it go so easily. It just so happened that an old dog, a golden retriever with white, golden fur trotted into the living room excitedly and –as soon as he noticed BJ– ran towards him to slobber all over his best jeans. BJ couldn’t help himself from petting it intently and giving up —for the moment— whatever grudge he was holding.
“You didn’t tell me you had a dog!” He said, surprised and clapping his hands to get rid of all the dog hair.
“Yeah well, wha’ddaya know? Turns out that without your mustache, I really missed sweeping the floor of blond hair.” Hawk joked, uncrossing his legs so that the dog could rest its muzzle on his knees. “I was told that a dog could be beneficial to my mental state, which is short and psych for ‘this guy’s crazy and needs something to live for.’”
He didn’t have anything of value to say, but that had never stopped them. “Well, but you got a dog, so why complain?”
“The vet needs a pet, who would’ve thunk?” He laughed.
“The shrink made your problems shrink with this ball of drool, Hawk, so they oughta get a gold star.” He followed along. “What’s your name, boy?”
“Martini.”
“You’re kidding.” BJ turned, only to find Hawkeye’s fond gaze staring right into him, a smile on his lips.
“I’d never kid about something as serious as this. A kid’s name, that I could kid about, but a dog? Not on my life. I found him in a box with his brothers, Whiskey and Scotch, and his sisters, Gin and Tonic.” He turned to the dog, scratching its ears. “Do you need to pee, my liege?”
“I do, actually.” BJ replied.
“Great, we got the giraffe’s answer. Can the dog join the conversation?” Martini barked, wagging its tail. “Alright, loud and clear. Bring your leash, boy, get it here!”
The golden retriever ran to the door, and BJ looked at Hawk impressed and disbelieving.
“You?! Anti-discipline, obedience-averse, allergic-to-orders? You taught your dog commands! You oughta be ashamed.”
“How dare you!” Hawk faked indignance, “I am a firm defender of dog’s rights to misbehave.” Martini came back carrying a pair of boots, illustrating the point. “Although one day we’ll teach you how to pull your weight around here.”
BJ got up, cracking his back and stretching.
“Care to come with us, my good sir? It’s about time I showed you around this place.”
“Only if you buy.”
“Hey, I’m jobless, moneyless and shameless. You buy. Not gonna treat a lady?”
“Sure, if I find one.” BJ grinned, “all I see in here is a tall running joke. Mind you, not a good one.”
“Joke’s on you, I never run. I sway.” Hawk moved his hips along a nonexistent tune, making BJ shake his head.
Two minutes later, they were out the door and vivaciously talking as they walked Martini. He stopped at every corner, smelled every flower and tried to eat every paper on the street… Hawkeye Pierce in dog form, always taking detours and finding distractions. BJ let Hawk know as much, and Hawk easily replied with a pun about his chest hair.
For a second, all was right with the world and BJ could breathe at easy.
Hawk gave him the most animated tour of the most boring place BJ had ever visited… sure, he had to admit that the scenery was beautiful, calm and peaceful, but he’d been told that he thrived on chaos, so he wasn’t the best person to appreciate Hawkeye’s favorite place on Earth.
What he did appreciate was Hawkeye, one of his favorite people on Earth. He looked good. He was giggly, happy and energetic. His cheeks were just as rosy as he remembered them, a soft pink on his pale skin, but the bags under his eyes were almost gone. What little purple remained was a ghost of a thousand sleepless nights, but it was clear now that he was well-rested. His hair was slightly longer, long enough that he had to run his fingers through rebellious strands that kept falling on his forehead and blocking his vision, and his eyes had a glint that was a rare sighting in Korea. BJ found himself thinking that it was bright enough to light up a grey sky.
He had also gained some weight. Sure, he was still skinny and lanky, a spaghetti of a man, but as his doctor, BJ had been worried that the wind could knock him down, and as his friend he had feared for his ribs every time a bony elbow attacked them in what Hawk thought was a friendly nudge.
He looked good, now.
Content and relaxed, he carried himself with the easiness of a man who didn’t fear for his life or his sanity every living second. He didn’t look over his shoulder to check for casualties, he didn’t look down at his feet to avoid a reality he didn’t want to live in. As they strolled, BJ noticed that Hawkeye was seemingly free from fear and pain.
As free as he could be, anyway. There were still nightmares and memories, bad dreams that woke him up in a cold sweat and puke rising up his throat. None of them had completely left Korea, especially Hawkeye.
But he had found peace at last.
And who was BJ to mess with that?
“What’s with the frown? You tired of me already?”
BJ checked his watch. “Yeah, I think an hour was enough, I should catch my flight back.”
“Then by all means.” Hawk extended his arms, pointing towards the house. It was a testament to the dog’s slow pace that it wasn’t even that far away, despite the twenty five minutes they’d been out already. BJ could make out all the details. “Don’t let me keep you.”
Keep me.
Keep me forever. Don’t let me go.
When he turned to look at a grinning Hawkeye, his heart sank. Was he being selfish? He couldn’t ask of him to leave everything he’d wished for and follow BJ into a very unconventional, uncomfortable situation.
“Really, Beej, you feeling okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. You said we were close to a pond?”
“Yeah! My cousin Billy and I used to spend hours there every day, it’s where I learned to swim! Come on, Marty, let’s go take a shower with the tadpoles!” Hawk tugged on the leash insistently until the dog decided to leave the dirty napkin he was munching on and follow the hand that fed him.
Not much later, they were sitting on the grass in front of a beautiful pond, complete with water lilies, frogs, algae and a giant weeping willow to cast some shadow upon them. And they were alone.
Hawkeye relaxed against the trunk of the tree, setting down his jacket so he wouldn’t stain his pants and leaving a little spot for BJ as well. They were as close as they used to be, never mind the miles of empty space around them, and it wasn’t long until Hawk’s rambling about the water and the sky died down, leaving them to quietly playing with sticks.
BJ picked up a daisy, plucking the petals mindlessly as he tried to make up his mind. He couldn’t get cold feet now, all the way out here, when he was so close to possibly having all he’d wished for… or losing Hawkeye forever.
He needed a signal, some kind of message from the universe to tell him what he was supposed to do. Something that pushed him to the edge and invited him to move along. Something like—
“He loves you.” Hawk’s raspy voice said, almost in a whisper as to not disturb the peace they’d found.
BJ’s heart thumped on his chest, and he let the now empty flower fall from his hands.
“What?”
“Why, little girl, loves me, loves me not.” He pointed to the petals. “It ended in ‘loves you.’ You lucky devil, who’s the unlucky bastard?”
BJ let out a humourless laugh, short and almost harsh. Talk about a signal.
“Hawk, lemme ask you a question?” He pricked at the dead skin on his fingers.
“I’m all ears.” Came the response in a sing-song.
“Have you heard from anyone? The whole bunch, do you know how they’re doing?”
“Well, sure… There's our dear Colonel Potter, who’s currently holding two titles: world’s oldest cowboy and world’s greatest grandpa.” He said, a fond smile on his lips. “Then our boy Charlie, world’s most pompous bastard, is at Boston General saving lives and golfing with senators, no doubt. Margaret’s in Boston too, terrorising nurses. Klinger, Mrs. Klinger and Baby Klinger moved back to Toledo, raising the average nose size per square meter, and Radar sent a letter a few weeks ago, something about goats, chinchillas and cows all having to share a space because the barn broke, so he’s doing fine too. Our favorite Father is still working with kids and… Oh, yeah, Trapper John sent a letter too; Lorraine and the kids are all doing great. They're adding a new member to the family. Of course, I had to reply with news about Martini and his progress… he’s almost stopped chewing on my bedroom table.”
As Hawkeye reminisced about all the stories the mail service had brought to him, BJ slowly felt his previous rage simmer. Trapper. Even Trapper got something, a little piece of Hawkeye in a tiny envelope. A paper full of jokes in his terrible handwriting lying around in his studio to throw to the chimney in the winter to feed the fire.
“So what’s the deal, did the Mayor cut all communication lines with San Francisco?” He asked, bitter and angry.
Hawk’s eyes widened in realization.
“Yeah, about that…”
“What?” He dared Hawkeye to answer, to try and give one good reason.
“I’m sorry—”
“You better be! Three months! For over three months you’ve left me wondering if something had happened to you.”
Of course, one couldn’t simply tell that man that he’d done something wrong, because he was too stubborn to let himself go down without a fight, regardless of whether he was right or not.
“Something did happen to me, if you even care.” Came the indignant reply, coupled with a frown and a flash of anger of his own.
“Oh yeah, what’s that?”
“I missed my best friend.”
“You sure have a lousy way of showing it, pal.”
“Hey, you don’t get to nag at me for the way I deal with my emotions, okay? I’ve had a hard enough time without you throwing it in my face!”
“Oh, poor Hawkeye, it must be so tough to ignore a person a thousand miles away! I bet writing a few lines to Trapper took a colossal effort!”
“It didn’t, because he wasn’t you, you idiot!” Hawkeye got up, only to point his finger down at BJ’s face.
BJ wouldn’t have it, springing to his feet so that they could have their screaming match at the same level. And what the hell was Hawkeye yelling at him for?! He’d been getting regular updates, chances to make things right, something to keep him company when he felt lonely!
“It seems to me that the problem here is I am not him! If I were, I would’ve gotten a goddamned letter!”
Somewhere in the distance, Martini barked. Maybe it was a call to get them to stop, and he almost took the hint.
“What is this, jealousy?”
“No, this is pain!” BJ exploded, making Hawkeye step back. He cursed himself for showing the cards he’d been trying to keep under wraps, and he noticed the way Hawkeye’s shoulders slumped, like a kicked puppy that had been scolded.
Be gentle, Peg had told him at the airport.
Fuck.
Despite the anger and frustration, BJ didn’t want this. He hadn’t wanted to end up in such a loud mess… but being angry had always been a lot easier than being hurt.
Maybe it was time to face that pain.
There was guilt painted in Hawkeye’s features, and he looked older for a second. He closed his sorrowful eyes, rubbed them tiredly, and pursed his lips. He looked regretful, for a moment, distressed in a way BJ had never meant to cause.
“I’m sorry, Beej.” He said again, this time truly remorseful.
“Why didn’t you write?” BJ insisted, but this time it was softer, more vulnerable. His tone conveyed necessity.
“Why do you care so much?” He questioned, not a jab, just genuine curiosity.
“I need to know, please.” He said, picking up the stem from the daisy, averting his eyes. Loves me, loves me not… it ended in love you. “Promise I won’t shout this time.”
“I missed you.” Hawkeye repeated the words that had gotten lost in the argument. “I couldn’t bear the distance, and I figured that the only way to stop my heart from breaking was to try and make it forget.”
The confession didn’t make BJ feel any better, except for the tiny, illogical part of him that had briefly entertained the thought that the silence meant disinterest. It was small precisely because it was highly unlikely that Hearteyes Pierce could just erase BJ Hunnicutt from his life.
But trying to forget him… despite the logic, it hurt all the same. BJ ignored the part of his brain that supplied that he had tried to do the same, albeit in a different way.
“Did it work?” He asked, fearful.
Hawkeye shook his head in shame. Martini seemed to have sensed the shift in the air, because he ran to his owner and laid down beside Hawkeye, giving him something to do with his hands, silent support, and a friend.
“Not a day goes by that I don’t think about you.” He confessed in a broken whisper. It made something in BJ’s soul bloom tentatively. Hope. “And that’s why I couldn’t bring myself to write, because you sounded so happy… you finally have your dream back, Beej, and I’m not in it. Who am I to mess it up?”
God, we’re so stupid.
BJ’s shock at the recognition of the words turned into sharp chuckle, which in turn became an uncontrollable, almost hysterical laughter. That blooming hope now shared space with optimism and anticipation, an explosive, teasing sensation that invited courage.
“What, my troubles amuse you?” Hawkeye squinted his eyes, indignant.
“No, I just… God, we’re so stupid!” He continued to laugh, throwing his head back and covering his face with his hands.
“Alright, Can Giggles the Giant-Footed Clown calm down?” He was annoyed now, which made sense. It made total sense.
Everything made sense, for a second.
BJ willed himself to control it, even through the tears in his eyes. They needed to talk. He had something very important to tell Hawkeye.
That they had a chance.
“Hawk, I… Oh, God…” He whined, equal parts terrified and giddy, but all of him hopeful. He could trust Hawkeye to put up with him, and if it went according to plan, they’d both be happy. If not, he would make sure to fix all he’s broken. He looked into Hawkeye’s confused, concerned eyes. “Listen, I came here for a reason.”
“You’re not here as the world’s smelliest birthday gift?” He cocked his head to the left, still annoyed at being left in the dark. The collar of his oversized, striped polo fell down one of his shoulders, leaving his clavicle exposed to the chilly air. BJ fixed it for him, carefully setting it in place and buttoning it so it wouldn’t happen again.
His hands lingered in such close proximity, and he froze at Hawkeye’s expectant gaze. He was waiting for something to happen, something… something that BJ had to discuss with him yet. He cradled Hawkeye’s faze, not missing the sharp breath intake, but not commenting on it either. He caressed his pink cheeks with his thumbs, and gulped to bring some relief to his dry throat.
“I love you.”
Hawkeye’s eyes didn’t widen, he wasn’t shocked, not a hint of surprise. He took BJ’s forearm, stilling the caresses, putting distance between them with an affronted, conflicted grimace.
“Stop that.” He ordered, not letting go of his arm but not letting BJ move it either, stuck in the middle of BJ’s dreams and a reality capable of shattering them. “You stop that right now, what do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m in love with you, Hawkeye, it doesn’t matter whether you are too or not.” He forced himself to go on, his pulse wild under Hawk’s tight grip.
“You’re right, it doesn’t matter. What are you, crazy?! You’ve got Peggy Jane at home, BJ! She’s– she’s everything! And you’re not leaving her for a fucked-up, war fling!”
“What are you on about? I’m not leaving Peg!” He shot back, suddenly aware that he’d left an important part out. And you’re not a fling.
“So what is this, some kind of consolation prize?! This is exactly why I didn’t write back, I can’t take the scraps, I’m not— you’re not like this! I don’t know what problems you’re having with her, but the BJ I know wouldn’t give up!”
“Hawk, stop it will you?!” BJ took his hands, like Peg always did when he spiralled. He squeezed slightly, meeting Hawk’s crazed, pained stare with a warm, reassuring smile that reached his eyes. “I’m still me! I’m not leaving Peg, but I don’t need to give you up either!” He curtly explained, as if it made total sense.
Hawkeye got up in a huff, started pacing around wildly. BJ’s hands were cold without Hawk’s in them.
“That’s it, the pressure messed up your brain. TBI?” He started mumbling, “are you injured, did you knock your head against a lamppost or something? Did you not tie your shoelaces like I taught you? What did you trip on?!”
“I’m fine! What is it that scares you so much? Anyone would think you’d be up for sticking it to the nuclear American family.”
“Not when it’s your nuclear American family, you… you moron. How could you think I would do that to you?”
“What, love me?” He asked. “Is that so wrong?”
“Don’t you dare bring up love and peace, that’s my line. You,” he pointed, “you’re supposed to stick to the script and say how in love you’re with your wife, how wonderful your baby daughter is and how freaking good the apple pies taste!”
“I am madly in love with Peg, Erin is more than wonderful, and the apple pies are fairly good.” BJ responded compliantly, carefully approaching Hawkeye, who kept stepping back. “It just so happens that my heart is big enough to love two people, and you’re one of them. You don’t think I tried to stop this?! I’m terrified! But I’m done living in fear. There’s nothing I can do but accept it.”
“You can repress it! You’re the master of repression, just push it down!” Hawkeye insisted.
“Well, what if I don’t want to?!” BJ yelled, for the first time in this conversation. “What if I think you’re worth the risk, huh?” He pressed his finger against Hawkeye’s chest, accusing. “What if it was Peggy that put me up to this and convinced me that you and I deserve a chance too!? What if she wanted to share her damned apple pies with someone else?!”
Hawkeye had been stepping back along with BJ’s picking, until they reached the weeping willow.
“What is there to love enough to risk it all, Beej?" He asked quietly, truly baffled. Breathless.
BJ groaned. “Everything, you idiot. Everything you’ll give me, and if you don’t want to do this, that’s fine too. It takes two to tango. Three, I guess.” He let his head fall on Hawkeye’s shoulder, at a loss for words. What could he say to make Hawkeye believe that this wasn’t the occasional crisis, that this was forever? Hawk’s hand traveled up BJ’s back, and his fingers started soothingly scratching his nape despite his obvious doubts. BJ felt like crying. “You need to believe me, this isn’t new.”
“Beej…” Hawk started what BJ knew was going to be a sorrowful, tragic tale. He had reviewed them all in his mind, time and time again, in the darkness of his melancholy, and he had reached one conclusion every time: they could figure it out together or be miserable apart but, either way, the love was there.
“No, I… this isn’t new! I have been in love with you this whole time. Read my letters to Peg and you’ll see it. All the things I did in Korea, they were out of love… the only difference is that it has evolved to a point of no return. Somewhere in that hell you rewired my brain and now it expects to see your goddamned bathrobe in my bathroom in California! And when it’s not there, I get thrown into a pit of hopelessness, because it could be there! Can’t you see? You’re not there!”
“BJ, I can’t break up your family.” Hawkeye cried.
“My family’s incomplete without you.” He separated, only to look Hawkeye in the eyes. “Whether we want it to be or not, the love is there. And I want it, Hawk. I want you, because you’re… fuck, you’re you, and you are more than enough for me. I couldn’t deprive myself of the chance to try and make it work.”
“How would we make it work?” Hawk asked, desperately trying to understand.
It wasn't a no.
It was fear and a tiny bit of a maybe.
He could work with that.
“A day at a time.” He supplied. Begged.
It took a second, but Hawkeye rubbed his eyes, sat back down and patted the spot next to him. Then, he looked into the distance, into the calm pond that had always reminded him of paradise, and now seemed lacking.
He was willing to listen.
“What does Peg really think of all this?” He asked, in a tone that allowed no fairytales.
“She thinks, and she’s as right as always, that you’re part of my happiness, and we should fight for that. She thinks we should talk, all three of us, and figure out a way. And she told me to bring you home.”
Something in Hawkeye clicked at the indirect permission.
“She’s really okay with this?” He asked again. “I know she’s the best woman alive, but this seems too good to be true.”
“She is too good to be true.” BJ confirmed, taking Hawk’s hand again, and this time Hawkeye let him interlock their fingers. “You’ll see her. It’ll be a miracle if you don’t fall in love with her too.”
“That jealous husband of hers might make our forbidden love complicated. He’s bigger than me, you see.” He tried to joke, even though it fell flat, the air too tense and thick with expectation.
“I know how to share, Hawk. Peg does too.” He promised, then offered. “Will you share your life with us?”
His quiet doubt went unanswered. Hawk had that frown, the one that meant his brain was working a thousand miles a minute and he didn’t know how to start to untangle it.
He needed a nudge in the right direction.
BJ brought up their interlocked hands and kissed Hawk’s knuckles. Their gazes met, and Hawkeye relaxed, slowly giving in if the slump of his shoulders was anything to go by. BJ knew him enough to know it was.
“Potter told us once… he said that the only way to make this crazy bunch do something is to tell them they can’t.” He tentatively continued. “Well, the whole world is telling us we can’t, and is this really going to be one time in your life that you listen?”
BJ looked back at their hands. With heaven at your fingertips… it seems irresponsible not to try.
Hawkeye stared down at them too.
“I wouldn’t want to break my streak of civil disobedience.” He finally said, and BJ felt all tension dissolve into the most joyful grin he’d ever let out.
“Yes?”
“I have a reputation to uphold.” Hawkeye smiled too, finally, and what a smile. It reached his eyes, and the glint in them was brighter than BJ had ever seen it. Who the hell needed the sun? In front of him, BJ was sure had all the light and warmth he’d ever need.
BJ shrieked, pulling Hawkeye into a bone-crushing hug, laid down in the grass and rolling like teenagers.
Yes…
Yes!
He’d gotten a yes out of Hawkeye!
“Come with me to California?” BJ asked as Hawkeye giggled, their faces barely inches apart. He squeezed the man when it took him a second too long to reply.
“Alright, punch the brakes, loverboy, or I’m gonna be damaged goods!” He screamed, but it was hard to take it seriously when there was a laughing fit every two words.
Martini, feeling left out, rounded them and barked, wagging his tail energetically and trying to climb into the hug.
“Please, come with us. My treat.”
Hawkeye smiled.
“Why the hell not? The sooner we start this party, the sooner we can figure out the kinks.” He jabbed BJ’s ribs, “and I mean every type of kink.”
BJ exploded in laughter.
“You and Peg are gonna get along great.”
“We already do. We used to scheme together.” Hawkeye leaned back, lying with his back on the grass with a playful smile.
BJ propped himself on an elbow, getting comfortable to look at Hawkeye from above. He made sure to cover the sun that was making him squint, that way he could look into those beautiful blue eyes from as close as he wanted to.
“We’ll go slow, I promise. We’ll talk and talk again until this is perfect, and then we’ll talk some more, and we’ll—“
“Uh, Beej… one suggestion from your newly-re-appointed partner in crime…”
“Yes,” BJ invited him.
“Not too slow, okay? In fact, we could start right now with a little something I’ve been dreaming of for years.”
“Your wish is my command. Just say the word and I—“
“Will you shut up and kiss me?”
And who was BJ to deny him?
He cradled Hawk’s face and thank God there wasn’t anyone around. He kissed him, deep and needy, soft and revering, he kissed him until they felt like they couldn’t breath, and then some more. And after that, BJ hugged him, kissing his cheeks and his neck, trailing every inch of skin he could get his lips on without getting thrown in jail for public indecency.
After a few minutes, Hawkeye tried to get up.
“Come on, you big lug, I’ve gotta pack my bags. There’s a lady waiting for me all across the country!”
BJ didn’t let go, lying down half on top of him. He wasn’t ever going to let go.
“Later.” He squeezed him softly, a sense of déjà vu. “Let’s just… stay like this for a while longer.”
Hawkeye chuckled, pulling apart just enough to kiss him again. “Not so impatient now, are we?”
“What’s the point? I’ve got all I will ever want.”
“So do I.” He giggled after a few seconds. “Hey, what do you know? I’m finally getting that jam recipe.”
BJ hummed inquisitively, only moving enough so he could look at Hawkeye in the eyes.
“Peggy Jane’s famous jam, the one I kept stealing in Korea! I said I’d marry into the family to get it.” Hawk explained, a huge grin on his face. “I did it! I won!”
BJ kissed his jaw, the moustache tickling and worsening his giggly condition.
We won, he thought enthusiastically, finally at peace.
He didn’t have to lose anyone.
BJ Hunnicutt wasn’t a nostalgic man. He wasn’t melancholic, or mournful. He never had to be again.
He won.
Notes:
THE END!!!
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING, I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS!! <3 <3 <3
LondoGKar on Chapter 3 Thu 11 Dec 2025 11:35PM UTC
Comment Actions
Logan73 on Chapter 3 Sun 14 Dec 2025 05:26PM UTC
Comment Actions