Chapter Text
“Hawk? You okay?” He was barely aware of BJ’s hand on his shoulder as they stepped out of the bus.
“Of course I’m okay! Why wouldn’t I be?” He forced a lopsided grin onto his face as he turned to face his friend. And saw exactly what he’d worried he’d see. Fear. BJ’s face was filled with fear for him. Possibly, given the recent events, of him, too. “Quite a day, huh? I don’t know about you but I’m tired.”
“We still have patients to treat...” BJ said hesitantly, looking back towards the bus. Klinger was emerging from Post OP with stretchers under his arms. Charles was supporting a wounded soldier as they stepped off the bus. Colonel Potter and Margret were still inside the bus, standing close to a woman, near the back.
“Right. Must’ve slipped my mind. Had too much to drink again.” He was only able to take one step before BJ blocked him.
“When did you get a drink?”
“We...on the bus...we were passing a bottle around...weren’t we?” He blinked. They had been passing a bottle, he’d been at the back of the bus. He remembered it. The memories felt fuzzy, though. He didn’t think he’d had that much to drink. Besides, he’d operated in worse condition.
“Forget about the patients. You should head to the Swamp.” BJ said quickly, his facial expression unreadable.
“Why? Beej, I just told you, I’m fine!”
One of the men on the stretchers was moaning. He only just now noticed that in the time BJ had held him up, Klinger had gotten back to the bus with stretchers, and they’d begun carrying the wounded out. Margret was holding the other end.
When had they picked up wounded?
He hadn’t heard the choppers. Or any other buses or jeeps entering the compound. Had it happened on their way back?
“Be quiet!” Hawkeye snapped, shocking himself with his own words, and how angry it sounded.
Klinger, holding one end of the stretcher, paused, looking at him, wide eyed.
“Captain...?” Margret asked cautiously.
“Just keep him quiet! They’ll hear us!” Hawkeye hissed. He could feel their eyes on him, now. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He could feel the eyes burning into his back. The rifles that must be aimed in their direction. Why was nobody else being careful?
“Keep moving. I’ve got this.” BJ muttered quietly to them. They both exchanged glances, but continued.
“Hunnicutt! We need you in here!” Charles called as he headed towards Pre OP supporting the wounded soldier.
“In a minute!” BJ said back, keeping his voice low. He turned his gaze back to Hawkeye. “Just, wait right there for a second. I have to speak to the Colonel. Then we’ll get you set up in the Swamp, okay?”
“I don’t need to go to bed! I’m fine!” Hawkeye protested quietly. But, BJ just rubbed his shoulder, and then stepped into the bus.
Hawkeye used the opportunity to turn and cast his gaze around the camp. Any shrubbery moving? Anything look out of place? No. But the back of his neck still prickled.
There’s nothing out there.
Why couldn’t he believe his own eyes and ears?
“Just cover for me in Pre OP. I’m sure he’ll be fine after he gets a good night’s sleep.” BJ was saying to the Colonel as they came down the steps.
He nodded. “Let me know if you need anything, Pierce.” Potter said, pausing to look at him, for a moment.
Why was everyone treating him like a live grenade? The Colonel never asked him if he ‘needed anything’ that wasn’t remotely his concern.
But, then BJ was wrapping an arm around his. “Come on. To the Swamp with you.”
He let BJ guide him there. But, as he reached for the still, he found his hand abruptly blocked again.
“Bed. No martinis.” BJ said firmly. “You’re cut off until tomorrow.”
So maybe he was just drunk, after all.
“Fine, Mom.” He said, lifting his hands in mock surrender.
BJ kneeled to pull Hawkeye’s boots off as he sat down, not replying.
Apparently, he wasn’t trusted with basic motor control, either. But, then again, if he was, he’d be in Pre OP.
“What? Dead mom jokes are too much, now?” He asked, still making an attempt at a smile. BJ was worried. He didn’t want BJ to be worried. There was nothing to worry about. He’d just partied too hard.
He pulled his feet from BJ’s grasp to lie back on his bunk. That’s when something caught his eye. At the very edge of his vision, through the screen in the tent, a Korean woman was carrying a small bundle of blankets off the bus. Her face was turned down, so he couldn’t see her eyes. She was heading in the opposite direction of Pre OP. Away from the compound. Margret was following close behind her. What were they doing?
BJ pinned him down with his hands when he tried to sit up to look.
“What is that?” He asked. Something about that bundle she was holding, it tugged on the edge of his memory. He recognized something about this. But he couldn’t place the when or the why. What was wrong with his head?
“Nothing.” BJ said way too fast.
“No, not nothing, Beej. You’re keeping something from me, and I want to know what!” He pushed hard against BJ’s grip on his arms, and failed.
“What do you remember about the ride home? From the beach?”
“I don’t know...I had a lot to drink....” He must have, if he wasn’t even allowed to take his own shoes off. But he didn’t remember it.
“You didn’t have anything to drink, Hawk.” He replied slowly. “What happened on the way home?”
He didn’t? Why else would his memory be so hazy? Was he drugged? “Well, don’t you know that? Why are you asking me?” He challenged, keeping the worries to himself. BJ looked scared enough as it was.
“Humor me.” BJ said.
“We were passing a bottle around. I think it was beer.” Just recovering that single memory alone was exhausting. But he had to do it, for BJ’s sake. Especially if someone had drugged him.
“Then what?” BJ prompted.
“I don’t know. I got drunk. Maybe blacked out.” Still going to keep the drugged suspicion to himself. Maybe whoever was lingering outside of their camp, had done it. Yes, he could still feel those eyes on him, even in the Swamp. They were out there. Maybe they’d grabbed him and drugged him, and then put him back on the beach before anyone realized he had gone. Yeah, that kinda made sense.
BJ’s grip on his arms tightened.
“That’s all you remember?”
“Because that’s all that happened!” The words practically tore out of his throat in a scream, his voice almost unrecognizable, it was so filled with anger. Why had he yelled? At his best friend, of all people? He had no idea.
BJ let go of his arms. “Okay.” He said quietly.
“What? Just okay? That’s it? Clearly, something is bothering you. What aren’t you telling me?” He fought to keep his voice low.
“I need to get to Pre OP. I promise, I will tell you everything tomorrow. Right now, you need to get some sleep.” He said.
“I could be in Pre OP, too!”
“No. You’re going to sleep. And no touching that still, either.” BJ pulled his blanket up to Hawkeye’s chest, for good measure. “If I see you up and about, or going near the still, I’m putting you in a bed in Post OP.”
“Look, I’m sorry-“
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” BJ cut him off firmly. “Get some sleep. This will all look better in the morning.”
“Fine.” Hawkeye mumbled, pulling the blanket up higher. He was sick of all these round about answers to his questions. They were definitely keeping something from him.