Work Text:
Hawkeye raised his hand with a nod, signaling to Rosie the need for another drink. She sauntered over with a slight glare and placed it not too gently on his table next to the two empty bottles.
“Last one until tab is paid off,” she warned. “And I’m serious this time.”
The captain waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you. I get paid tomorrow and I’ll be here first thing to give you your cut. I swear it,” he added, grabbing her hand with one hand to pat it with the other.
“You better,” she muttered, snatching her hand away.
He grabbed his new drink and took a long swig. “I haven’t let you down yet, have I?”
“I’ve lost count,” she called back as she returned to the counter, tending to the people occupying the stools.
Hawkeye continued to drain his drink as he watched her work from a distance. To be fair, he barely paid attention to anything she was doing as his mind wandered and gaze zoned out. He was basically running on fumes and he really should have gone straight to bed, but he desperately needed a drink first after the latest shift. It was a doozy to put it lightly. Though, if he were being a little more honest, it was pure Hell.
Loss was something they grew to expect, still, no matter how often it happened, it was something he knew he would never get used to, especially when people could have been saved if they had arrived just an hour sooner. And this night was no different. He took a long, deep drink and lowered his forehead to the table with a sigh. Drifting so deep into his head, he was only vaguely aware of the chair opposite him sliding out from under the table. Someone took a seat and the table shifted slightly with their arrival.
He only raised his head when Rosie returned to bring the other man a drink and cleared the table of the trash.
For a few seconds, he looked at the other man, a private from the looks of it, as he downed almost the whole thing in one go. That was impressive even by Hawkeye’s standards.
“Rough day?” he asked, sitting a little straighter.
After another second, the drink was completely drained and the other man slammed the bottle down on the table and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You have no idea,” he mumbled, calling for another drink.
Hawkeye blew out a breath. “Bet I have an idea,” he replied, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He drank a lot slower seeing as this was going to be his last drink, and definitely not by choice. But with how hard it was to keep his eyes open, perhaps it was for the best.
“Oh yeah?” the other man asked, gripping the new bottle tightly. “Have you had to watch as your best friend got shot?” he asked, tone shifting dramatically. “And then have said friend bleeding out in your arms before he’s taken away and you don’t know what his fate will be?” The words fell out quickly and Hawkeye half wondered how much of that was thanks to the alcohol.
He was only able to sit there stunned for about half a minute before his brain was finally able to catch up with his shock.
“Uh, no, no I have not,” he answered, leaning back in his chair.
“I didn’t think so,” he mumbled, slamming yet another bottle down.
The captain’s brow furrowed. He’d come here to sit alone, like most. He took a quick glance around and it all made sense. Guess it had been a rough day for a lot of them. Made more sense - lots of casualties that day and they were feeling it from all sides.
“Never had anyone bleed out in my arms, but plenty under my hands,” he said softly, knowing that wasn’t going to make anything any better and wasn’t the same. But he didn’t know what else to say. It was already awkward. He was starting to lower his head again when the man asked another question.
“You a surgeon?”
“Unfortunately,” Hawkeye sighed. He really was starting to regret that career choice.
“4077th?” he asked, voice growing stiffer with each following inquiry.
Hawkeye straightened once more and took a glance around. “Yeah. Why?”
The man was starting to get to his feet, looking intensely at Hawkeye. Slowly, he took a step around the table, prompting the captain to get to his feet as well and take a step back.
“Brent Harrison, he was brought here. Are you the surgeon who operated on him?” he asked, getting uncomfortably close. “Rusty hair, mole right at his hairline. Are you the one that worked on him?” he asked again, voice louder as it drew in the attention of other patrons.
Hawkeye took another step away, almost tripping over a chair. “Look, we get a lot of people coming through, so it’s hard to remember them all,” he shrugged, trying to keep the conversation calm. “Today was a lot, it was for all of us, so let’s just take a seat and take a few moments to compose ourselves, why don’t we?” he tried, gesturing to the chair for the other man to sit back down.
“You don’t remember who you operate on?” the man asked, looking genuinely confused.
The captain raised both hands in defense. “No, no, that’s not what I meant. It’s just … it’s been a long day for us all. I’m sure after a good night’s rest we can discuss things more civilly,” he offered. “I’m sure I did see him, I-I know I did,” he said, voice softening as his mind returned back to just a few hours ago. “What’s your name?”
“Dennis,” he answered, standing as tall as ever. “Dennis McInley,” he muttered, looking right into the other man’s eyes.
Hawkeye nodded and forced his shoulders to relax. He knew he should just play dumb, but hell, the kid at least deserved some closure. “I’m so sorry, Dennis,” he whispered, shaking his head slowly. “I did see him. He … he didn’t make it.”
Out of instinct, Hawkeye took another step back in anticipation. Clearly this man was not in any right state of mind.
“H-he what?” Dennis stammered. “You mean … you mean he’s dead? You didn’t save him?”
“It wasn’t from lack of trying,” Hawkeye assured. “I promise you, we, myself included, did everything we could. But it was too late, he was already gone before he arrived.” He kept his voice as low as possible, trying to keep the words between just the two of them if he could help it. It wasn’t anyone else’s business and he was sure Dennis would want to keep it that way. Apparently, he thought wrong.
Dennis approached much faster this time, and Hawkeye now realized the man stood at almost a whole head taller than him, forcing him to look straight up at his eyes. “So … what you’re telling me is, you’ve failed to do your job,” he summarized, tone surprisingly calm.
Hawkeye still had both hands raised in a placating manner. “Dennis, you’re exhausted, let’s jus-”
He closed the gap between them in a mere half step. “I came here after hearing this is where he was brought. I was told this was the best MASH unit and that y’all would take care of him!”
The captain said nothing, seeing as nothing would make a difference. All he could do was back up a little at a time, not wanting to make any drastic movements and set the guy off more than he already was. “We have a high success rate,” Hawkeye assured. “But … that doesn’t mean 100% You have to understand, some people … we just can’t save them all.”
Hawkeye glanced away for only a moment, meeting the eyes of a few others that looked on in both curiosity as well as concern. By the time he turned back to Dennis, the larger man was swinging. Something was in his hand, but Hawkeye couldn’t see before it struck the side of his head. By then, he didn’t need to see it, he could hear the telltale shatter of a bottle as the shards rained down on the floor.
For a brief moment, as he was knocked off balance and stumbled against a table, Hawkeye felt nothing but the thin, warm trickle down his temple from his hairline. The tips of his fingers glided over his scalp until they brushed over the small wound and he pulled them away to look at the blood as he rubbed his fingers together, his brain still processing what just happened. Before his drained and slightly inebriated mind could fully put everything together, Dennis was looking over him, one fist balled up.
Hawkeye raised his arms over his face in a weak attempt at self defense, but either he wasn’t fast enough or that first hit disoriented him more than he thought it had as the fist soon connected with the left side of his face, sending specks of light across his vision.
“Stop!” Hawkeye cried out, trying to tuck his head into his arms. That wasn’t enough to stop the onslaught, it only changed Dennis’ target as he went for the torso instead, both with his fists as well as his feet. They all came so fast that he didn’t know which part of his body to protect anymore. All he knew was the moment he moved his hands from his face, that became the target once more.
He had no idea how long it went on for, all he knew was at one point it stopped abruptly. He waited a full five seconds before he cracked an eye open and peered out from under his arm. All he could make out was Dennis being restrained by a couple MPs. Even with the man restrained, Hawkeye was dragging himself across the floor in order to put as much space between them as he could.
“Captain Pierce, are you alright?”
He had no idea who was asking, he couldn’t take his gaze away from his attacker long enough to see for himself.
“Yeah,” he muttered as an automatic response, plastering a hand on the wall the moment he was close enough to one. “I-I’m ok … I’m ok,” he repeated, clumsily pulling himself to his feet, keeping both hands on the wall to keep himself steady.
“You’re bleeding.”
Again, he had no idea who said it, but he was shaking his head for some reason. “It’s fine,” he whispered, watching as Dennis tried to fight against the MPs. “I should … I should just go,” he muttered, clinging to the wall.
“Do you want someone to come wi-” but it was too late, Hawkeye was already out the door.
Hawkeye’s body moved on autopilot, desperate to get away from that man and his crazed episode. Deep down, below his fear and panic, he did feel for the man. Hell, he just found out he lost his friend and someone had to be responsible for it and Hawkeye just happened to be the most convenient source of blame. He tried to reason it out in his head, but that was easier said than done when said head was still spinning and he stumbled along in the near dark. All he wanted to do was get back to the Swamp and hide in his bunk like a small child.
As he walked, all he knew was that he was going the right direction, and he guessed he did make it because all he did was blink and he was in the process of falling into bed, letting out a sigh when he hit the creaky mattress.
As fresh as the attack was in his mind and as hard as he thought sleep was going to be for him to find, he was out before he could right himself. He had a feeling his body was going to pay the price in the morning in the form of aches and pains, but that was a problem for future him.
---------------------------------
For once, waking up wasn’t one of the worst experiences for Charles. After the previous day, he turned in early and crashed hard, but he finally got a much needed full night’s rest. He laid there for a few minutes, taking any chance he could to relax and do nothing for a change. It was a rare opportunity that he intended to take full advantage of whenever and wherever he could. But he also didn’t want to stay there too long and throw off his sleep schedule. So, against his body and mind’s protests, he slowly sat up.
As Charles stretched and and blinked the remaining sleep from his eyes, he looked around, finding the other two still asleep. No surprise there. The major threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood. He looked back over with a scrunched brow at Pierce. Or rather the cover pulled up and over his head. But that wasn’t the main detail that caught his attention - it was the dark stain on the cover. The light hit it just right to make it painfully stark.
Charles quietly stepped over and leaned slightly to get a closer look. There was no need for a closer look to recognize the mark as blood - fresh blood.
He swallowed, maybe Pierce had just forgotten to clean up after surgery the previous night. But he knew that could not have been it, he’d seen him wash up.
“Captain Pierce?” he called out softly as he gently grabbed the edge of the cover. He slowly pulled it back, barely able to hold back his gasp as the man’s face was revealed, bruised and bloodied. The latter was the main concern as he followed the half dry trail to just above his temple where hair was matted and clumped. “Jesus Christ… Hunnicutt!” he called out louder, not turning his head from the other man.
Perhaps it was the alarm in his voice, or it was so sudden, but whichever the case, BJ was up and on his feet in half a second, eyes wide and looking around.
“What … what is it?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. He took two steps over and went completely silent as he saw what the problem was. “What the hell…” he whispered, taking a seat on the edge of Hawkeye’s bed. The other captain groaned and shifted away, still pretty deep in sleep.
BJ leaned in and took a good look at Hawkeye’s face, muttering under his breath as he took it all in. He took a particularly close look at that head wound, and from what he could see, it looked like a shallow laceration.
“Jesus, Hawk,” he muttered, carefully turning the man’s head the other way to inspect that side as well. It wasn’t as bad, but it too was mottled. “Hawk, hey, can you hear me?” he said a little louder, patting the one part of his face that wasn’t marred by some sort of discoloration.
He got a small whimper out of the man, not much else, but it was a start. BJ tried to be patient as he slowly and carefully tried to poke and prod the man awake. He pulled one of his eyelids open and the reaction was delayed. That accompanied by the nasty gash and bump on his head, it was easy to put two and two together.
“Got a concussion,” he said mostly to himself, but also loud enough for Charles to hear.
The other man was shaking his head. “At the minimum,” he added as he nodded to a couple bruises peeking out from under his collar.
Hunnicutt followed the gesture and pulled the fabric down, hissing between his teeth at the sight beneath. The marks just continued on under his shirt. As far as he could see, they covered his body. Jaw clenched, he gave the shoulder as firm a shove as he dared.
“Hawkeye, wake up!” he demanded, raising his voice this time.
That did the trick. The other man jolted with a sharp inhale, one arm wrapping protectively around himself. “Beej?” he grumbled. “What d’ya want. It’s t’early to be s’loud.” He tried to turn his head and bury it into the pillow, but his friend wasn’t having that.
“No, sorry. I can’t let you go back to sleep yet. I have a few questions.”
“Can’t they wait?”
“No, they can’t,” BJ said firmly, snapping his fingers in front of Hawkeye’s face. “What happened? Who did this to you?”
Hawkeye didn’t respond as he rolled over stiffly, turning his back to the other man. Even from the back, though, BJ could see how tense he was. It was clear that the simple act of turning was painful.
“Captain Pierce,” Charles tried, moving to stand on the other side, giving Hawkeye nowhere to turn, “answer the question. Who did this? And why?”
“Does’t matter? It’s taken care’f,” he muttered, pulling the pillow over his head in order to block them both out the best he could.
Neither were having it. Charles moved first and snatched the pillow away before throwing it to the floor, far out of reach. “Yes, as a matter of fact, it does matter, Pierce. If someone attacked you, I think we all need to know. And what do you mean it’s taken care of?”
Hawkeye lay on his back, staring straight up to avoid looking at either of the other two. He took a deep breath that seemed to rattle in his chest. “Some drunk soldier,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration only to hiss and drop his hand to his side when he pinched a bruise. “It was a misunderstanding s’all. He’s been arrested, though. So it’s over with. Now, I would like t’just go to sleep, if you don’mind.”
“I actually do mind,” BJ responded, getting to his feet. “Actually, I mind so much that I need you to get up so we can take a proper look at you. I feel like you’re being a little too calm about this whole ordeal. If you saw what you looked like, I doubt you would be as ok with it as you are now.” He hooked an arm around Hawkeye’s and pulled. Charles took the hint and grabbed the other side. Between the two of them, Pierce had no choice but to allow himself to be hefted to his feet.
“I think the both of you are taking a stupid bar fight too seriously,” Hawkeye countered as he sagged a bit between them.
“I think this qualifies as more than a bar fight,” Charles told him.
“Yeah,” BJ agreed. “Like assault. You didn’t start the fight, did you?”
Hawkeye cut his eyes over but made no comment. Of course he didn’t. After that last session both of them could clearly see he lacked the energy to even fight back. One look at his hands and the lack of damage to his knuckles was proof enough that he didn’t throw any punches of his own. It was all one sided. Thus, not a fight like Hawkeye tried to pass it off as.
As inconspicuous as they could, they led the man into one of the empty offices to provide at least a decent amount of privacy as they looked the man over. It was easier than they expected to get him to cooperate, but from the looks of it, he was about ready to keel over at any moment. He was more than willing to take a seat in the chair as Charles went to retrieve some basic supplies.
While he was away, BJ took it upon himself to try and get some more information out of the man as he gave him a quick once over.
“I don’t expect to get a name,” he started, “but do you at least know why he would do this?” As he asked, he was looking at that gash at his hairline again. It wasn’t a deep cut by any means, but it was obvious from the slight swelling that it was more than just a cut. “Or what caused this,” he said, gesturing to his head.
“Beer bottle,” Hawkeye mumbled, eyes shut.
BJ nodded. That was a start and he found himself cringing at the thought. It had to have been hard enough to break the glass. That or it was already broken before the attacker swung it. But based on the size and shade of that bruise, he doubts that was the case.
“Ok, now do you want to tell me why someone would hit you with a bottle?”
Hawkeye was hesitant, inhaling deeply through his nose with a wince. “He, uh … he lost someone. It was … a moment of grief,” he said softly.
“You say that like it’s an excuse,” BJ said with a touch of anger.
The other captain flinched as BJ continued to check him over, fingers touching a particularly sore spot around his left eye. He could only imagine how bad that side looked considering he could hardly see out of it. “I was the one who operated on him,” he admitted, gaze dropping to the floor.
“So?”
Hawkeye peered up through the one eye he could see completely out of and didn’t say another word as Charles returned.
As he worked on the various small injuries, BJ focused on the head wound, cleaning it as gently as he could. He apologized with every hiss and flinch. The cut was even more shallow than he thought once all the blood was cleaned up. Still, the knot and deep shade were still impressive if not concerning. But, Hawkeye was conscious and lucid, which BJ would count him lucky for.
Most of the injuries on his torso were bruises, and as far as they could tell, nothing was broken. Hawkeye didn’t react in any sort of way that would have indicated as such either. So, with the worst of it tended to, all three sat there in silence before Charles finally stood. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he was sure Hawkeye would appreciate it more if there were less eyes on him. Which he couldn’t blame him for - most would. He bid them both a quiet farewell, using the excuse of post-op duty to make his leave.
The moment he walked out, BJ could see his friend’s shoulders relax as he released a slow, steady breath.
“You alright? Nothing else I should know about?” he asked softly.
Hawkeye shook his head. “No … I think it’s all covered,” he said with a slow, deep breath. “Am I allowed to go back to bed now?” Honestly, he did look exhausted, beyond that, really.
“The guy who did this, are you sure it’s taken care of? Or is there a chance of this repeating?” BJ asked, leaning with his hands clasped in his lap.
“I told you, he’s in custody,” Hawkeye repeated, clearly starting to get a little agitated. He was tired, in pain and getting more frustrated with every question.
BJ didn’t care, though. The only thing he currently cared about was making sure the other man was going to be safe. “Yes, you’ve mentioned that, but you still haven’t told my why he assaulted you in the first place.”
“I did tell you why,” Hawkeye muttered, shaking his head gently. “He lost someone and had to take it out. And I was the one there,” he shrugged as if it was no big deal. It was clear BJ wasn’t going to let up until he explained a little more than that. But he really had nothing else to add. “The guy was unstable, I don’t know what else you want. He sat down, we talked a bit and he found out that I was the one that operated on his friend. His friend that died might I remind you. Of course he would want to attack me . I would do the same in his shoes,” he rambled, never once meeting the other man’s gaze.
And there it was. BJ was nodding in understanding the whole time until Hawkeye was done with his mutterings.
“You would attack someone else or you would have attacked you as well?”
“Does it matter?”
BJ hummed. “Let me rephrase. If I operated on someone you cared about and they died on my table, would you hit me for it? Would you blame me?” He shifted himself until he was sure Hawkeye was actually looking at him.
There was a second of hesitation before Hawkeye shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t hit you,” he sighed.
“Then would you blame me?”
“No, maybe, I don’t know.”
BJ nodded. “Ok, so you may or may not blame me, but you wouldn’t attack me even if you thought it was my fault?”
Hawkeye saw where he was going with this and took an exaggerated breath. “Beej, I’m a surgeon, so I understand what goes on behind the scenes. Not everyone does, not everyone knows what all was done to try and save a life.”
“So you don’t think non-surgeons should be held to the same standard.” He saw Hawkeye try to argue, but he didn’t give him the opportunity. “You did what you could for the kid, you know that, right?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then stop making excuses for an asshole that assaulted you, Hawk,” he sighed, getting to his feet. “If you can get that through that thick skull of yours, then you can go back to bed.”
“This thick skull of mine is likely the reason I’m alive,” Hawkeye countered, taking the other man’s offered hand. He wasn’t going to lie, the extra hand in getting up and back to the Swamp was greatly appreciated
“I’m still going to double check and make sure this guy gets charged, you know that, right?”
Hawkeye exhaled through his nose. “I know.”