mash_slash | A short story (Reply)

Summary:A phone conversation between a deperate Hawkeye and a helpless BJ during Vietnam-era.

***

Three thousand miles away and three hours behind, a phone rings.

"Peg, honey, will you get that?" BJ calls out, eyes never straying from the medical journal before him. "Erin said she'd call once she reached the campus, that's probably her."

Silence answers back. "Peg?" He waits a moment, then sighs, setting the journal to the side. Groaning, he pulls himself up, reaching a hand out for the phone resting on the rickety desk beside him.

"Darling, I'll get it. Don't bother getting up." Peg turns a corner, coming into view. Apron secured around her waist, her hands are dripping wet. Catching a glance of BJ hovering over the phone, she shoots him a puzzled look. "I said I would answer it, dear."

He sighs, heading back for his vacant chair. "Of course, what was I thinking?" Beaming, he quickly squeezes her shoulders as he passes.

Peg smiles back, drying a hand on her apron. Lifting the phone to her ear, she turns from him. "Hello, Hunnicut residence." A pause. "Oh, Hawkeye, how are you? It's been ages since we've last -- what's that? Yes, he's right here; I'll -- Hawkeye, is everything alright? No, no reason you just sound frazzled is all, so I thought -- right, I'll put him on now." Covering the mouthpiece, Peg extends the phone to BJ, and wordlessly shakes her head. Concerned, he grabs it.

"Hey, Hawk! It's been --"

"He joined up, Beej."

Racking his mind for which 'he' this was, BJ shrugs at Peg. She nods, giving him a peck on the forehead, and points to the kitchen. He gestures her along, concentration on the man across the country. "He, Hawk? He who?"

"The kid joined up." Hawkeye continues, deaf to BJ. "Told me at breakfast that he has two weeks before he ships out."

"The kid --" BJ stops. Abruptly alert, he finds himself sitting straight-backed, eyeing a photo Hawkeye had sent along three months ago. There, perched on a shelf across the den, Hawkeye smiles widely, arm slug around a younger version of himself with dark brown eyes. "Oh, god." BJ lets out a moan. "Oh, god, Hawk. His draft number was called?"

There is only the sound of static for a few moments. "No. He volunteered."

"He volun -- he did what?" BJ cannot believe what he heard; the static must have mangled the words.

"Two weeks and he'll be gone for --" Hawkeye cuts off with a choking sound.

"Hawk? Hawkeye, are you --"

"I'm still here." Silence rings out once more. BJ hears the sounds of a deep sigh, and begins to wraps the phone cord tightly around his arm. "He didn't tell me until after it was too late. Said he didn't want me to try and stop him." Hawkeye lets out a forced chuckle. "Stop him -- of course I'd stop him! He doesn't know what he's getting into, what he's doing. He thinks it's all glory and noble deeds and -- and god knows what else. He's not thinking clearly, that kid. A few moments of clouded judgment and his entire life could be ruined. Could be --" Hawkeye doesn't finish the thought, unable to.

"It's final, then?"

"As final as the last nail on a coffin." BJ winces at this analogy, but realizes how fitting it truly is. "It's my fault, Beej."

"Your -- your fault? Hawk, what are you talking about?" BJ feels his brow knit in perplex ion.

He can practically hear Hawkeye's shrug over the phone. "I didn't -- I never told him about Korea."

BJ lets out a low sigh. "You and I both told him countless stories."

"No, not about Korea, Beej. We told him about Radar, and Potter, and Klinger in dresses. God, he knows more about tricks we pulled on Frank and stunts we got away with than he could ever use. We told him about Charles, and Margaret, and the Father, and I made damn sure he knew all about Trapper and Henry -- especially Henry. But that's not -- that's not telling him about Korea, about the war."

"I see."

"I told him this fantasy story about war; a story with hardly any truth. I completely left out the blood, Beej, and the killing and the -- god, the terror and devastation. I didn't want to scare him, I wanted to protect him from --" Static begins to fill BJ, submerging him in the waves of cables connecting Maine and San Francisco. Hawkeye bitterly laughs. "The stories I told to protect him from the pure evil of it all just sent him right into the thick of things. He's up and enlisted on my account and there's nothing I can do to stop it."

BJ takes a deep breath, carefully forming his next words. "You know that's not true. You know as well as I do that his joining as nothing to do with silly -- silly stories we told him."

"I'm half tempted to diagnose him with a fake disease. Hell, who am I kidding -- I'd take any chance I had to sabotage this."

"He made up his own mind, Hawk. Be happy he can."

"I just -- I hate this! My own son, going to war. He's hardly nineteen; he's not old enough to --"

"Look, Hawk, with any luck, the kid'll meet two crazy doctors who drink more than they should and take pleasure in humiliating everyone within a five-mile radius of them. They'll mess with him a bit, but take care of him."

Hawkeye makes a mumbling sound, the distinct clinking of glasses drowning him out.

"Hawk --"

"I keep seeing those kids we worked on. Those young boys with gaping holes and glassy eyes that came past us like they were on Ford's assembly line. The kids who went home missing legs and arms or -- or didn't go home at all." A sob is stifled. "Only they're not the kids we worked on. They all have his face, his eyes, his -- his life." Hawkeye sighs. "It's all I've seen, all day. And I keep hearing their screams and their yells, and the blasts that would shake the camp. It's almost as vivid as it was when I first came home."

BJ lowers a hand to anxiously smooth out a crease in his pants."Hawkeye, as much as I want to, there is nothing I can say that will make this easier. Nothing I can tell you that will erase that worry and pain, and I'm not going to try. This is the hardest thing you will ever go through, but both you and him will get through it. You will, I guarantee it. There are no great words of comfort I can give, but I can lend an understanding ear and more sympathy than you'll know what to do with."

Hawkeye coughs. "When did this happen, Beej? When did we get like this? When did life get like this?"

BJ wishes he could say. "I don't know," He answers honestly, "All I know is that I have a daughter enrolled in Berkley who has never once entered a classroom. A daughter who attends protests and lectures, and tells me that the establishment is the problem and the government must be stopped before it runs this country to the ground."

A slight laugh rings out. "Were we ever that moralistic?"

"You were. I was realistic with strong values."

Hawkeye sighs. "I gave my beliefs, my sanity, my sobriety, and virtually my life to war. Now they want to take my son." The clinking sound of glass is heard again. "I know just how my dad felt." He hesitates. "Beej?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't think I can be as strong as he was. I don't think I can let them take my son without -- without a fight. I don't think I can make it, knowing where he's at and what it's like."

"You can. You will." BJ's voice leaves no room for half-hearted protests. "Listen, Hawk, after he ships out, why don't you take a few weeks and come out here. Peg'll be glad to have you and I -- god, Hawkeye; it'd be great to see you again. You can rest a bit, and we'll help you --"

"No. No, I can't." A pause. "Don't get me wrong, I can't thank you enough for the offer, but -- I have to be here. I can't explain it, but I have to."

"No, I understand." BJ feels the warmth of relief for neither the first nor last time, grateful for having a daughter and not a son. "But if you want, the offer always stands."

"I know." Hawkeye's voice seems considerably calmer, as steady as always. "Beej, I should -- he's due home at any minute."

BJ nods, forgetting Hawkeye cannot see. "Look, Hawk -- as far as he's concerned you're happy as hell for him. You're the proud, worried, incredibly supportive father."

"Thanks, Beej. Send my love to Peg."

"Of course." BJ hesitates. "Good-bye, Hawk."

"Bye, Beej."

Gently, BJ lowers the phone back into its receiver, softly chewing on his lip. He stares at the wall for a moment, lost in thought, unaware of Peg leaning against the doorframe. To himself, he mutters, "His child."

"Whose child?" Peg breaks in, worry lines marking her face.

"Hawkeye's son enlisted. He's heading out in two weeks."

A small gasp emits from Peg before she can stop it. "He's -- he's going to war?"

Sadly, BJ nods. "There's nothing Hawk can do." He lifts his arms, reaching for his wife. "It's final."

"Oh god, Hawkeye. Is he -- how's he taking this?" Peg crosses the den and lets herself be folded into BJ's arms, lowering herself onto his lap.

"As hard as could be expected. I just wish --" BJ tightens his hold on her.

"I speak from experience when I say that waiting for a loved one at war, all alone, is going to do everything just short of killing that man." Peg cannot stop her voice from breaking as her heart does just that, thinking of the lone man across the country. "Invite him out here; tell him he can stay for a few days. We have the extra room, and I wouldn't mind having him. It's been so long since we last --"

"I did." BJ cuts in, flatly. "He said no. That he has to stay there."

Peg nods, understanding far better than she wishes she did. "Did you tell him to call and write as often as he wants?"

"No, but I -- I think it's implied."

Soothingly rubbing a hand along his back, she leans against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "He'll be alright, BJ. With us, he'll be alright."

BJ blinks, staring off into nothing. "I know." Silently, he adds, 'I hope'.

***

Farewell.