“Pierce!” Potter hastily dropped the salute, staring in disbelief at the dirty, ragged figure before him.
“Hawkeye!” Potter and BJ ran over to the man, everyone else following suit and crowding around him, people hugging him and planting kisses on his face.
“You’re alive Captain!” Klinger cheered, Hawkeye laughed, looking a little bemused.
“Of course I am! Why all the long faces, why all the tears, and why is my song playing?”
“You see Pierce, you’ve been missing for a week now. They found your jacket and dog tags. We thought you were, well, dead son.” Potter said, choking back more tears.
“I flipped the damned jeep, I told you I was a lousy driver!” He said, almost laughing.
“You had us awfully worried there.” Father Mulcahy smiled, shaking Hawkeye’s hand.
“Come on, you weren’t that worried about me were you?” Hawkeye scoffed, “Were you?” He took in the tearstained, sombre faces. “Oh my god, you really thought they could knock off the infamous Benjamin Franklin Pierce?” He faked shock, and a tight laugh rippled through the group.
“What’s with Major Houlihan?” Klinger said suddenly, drawing the attention away from Hawkeye. She sat on the dirt, clasping her knees and trembling.
“Margaret, he’s alive, it’s okay.” BJ had left Hawkeye’s side and was kneeling down beside her. A couple of nurses knelt by her side, checking her pulse and temperature simultaneously. Margaret too stunned to move, forced herself out of shock.
“Hawkeye! Oh my god, don’t you ever scare me like that again!” She brushed the anxious people aside and ran to him, threw her arms around him, pressing kisses on his face.
Surprised at the warm welcome, Hawkeye, every muscle aching, wrapped his arms around Margaret. He hadn’t responded to any of the hugs any other nurse had given him, and many surprised glances were shared.
“I was so scared, if you ever frighten me like that again Captain!” Margaret was yelling now.
“I won’t Margaret.” Hawkeye said. They drew back, studying each other’s eyes, Hawkeye’s tired and confused, Margaret’s teary and loving. She kissed him, and he didn’t fight, they just stood there, lips pressed tightly to each other. They came up for air, and Margaret noticed that Hawkeye was leaning on her heavily.
“Help me,” He whispered, passing out. Margaret suddenly had to support all his weight; a shocked murmur went through the group as he collapsed. BJ helped Margaret lay him on the ground.
“What’s wrong?”
“What happened?” The scared whispers stopped as everyone saw the blood on Margaret’s uniform. Their eyes travelled to the figure on the ground, and saw much to their dismay, a red, sticky stain on the front of Hawkeye’s shirt.
III
“Hunnicutt! Get down to OR, we want you ready by the time he’s prepped!” Potter ordered, as Klinger and Igor lifted Hawkeye onto the stretcher, BJ was already halfway to the hospital.
“Severe internal bleeding, bullet wound to the liver, bruised lungs, heart and kidneys, cracked rib, broken ankle, but the breaks are the least of our worries, he’s lost a lot of blood.” Bigalow reported once BJ came into OR, scrubbed and in gloves and a mask.
“I see, and we’re down to our last unit of A+” BJ muttered, trying to work out where to begin.
“Major Houlihan’s already on everyone who’s A+.” Bigalow replied. “You’ll have blood before he’s out of here.”
“Okay, let’s get to work, scalpel.” Bigalow handed BJ the scalpel and slowly they started to work.
“How’s he doing?” BJ asked, nervously, some minutes later, Hawkeye’s insides were a bleeding mess.
“He’s been better. BP’s low and breathing’s shallow.” Kellye replied.
“Damn, there’s a bleeder in here I’ve missed somewhere, come on Bigalow, suction!” BJ tried not to shout, and Bigalow, assisting him tried to have what he wanted when or before he wanted it.
“BJ, his pressure’s dropping. You’ve got to do something.” Kellye said.
“Shoot, get Potter!” BJ snapped. “Colonel!” He shouted, “Bigalow, get him, I’ll manage for a second!” The nurse ran out and shouted for Colonel Potter. She returned to BJ and Potter, hastily tying a mask over his face.
“There’s a bleeder here somewhere can’t find it, I need your help.”
“I’ll scrub and be right back.” Potter moved surprisingly fast, while BJ tried to find and stop the bleeding that was filling Hawkeye’s abdominal cavity. Working together, they were able to find and stop it, and were beginning to think Hawkeye was going to pull through.
Suddenly Hawkeye’s entire body convulsed. “Doctor, he’s going into arrest!” BJ said a whole lot of highly profane things as he pumped on Hawkeye’s chest, trying desperately to get Hawkeye’s heart to beat again.
“Dammit Hawkeye, you are not going to die, not on my shift!” BJ yelled, “Rib spreaders! Get it in there.” Bigalow obeyed, and BJ took Hawkeye’s heart in his gloved hands, massaging it, praying that it would begin to beat.
Potter was pumping air into Hawkeye’s lungs. “Give him another minute, and only a minute.” He said firmly, as BJ continued to squeeze the heart. “Son he’s gone.” Potter put a steadying hand on BJ’s shoulder, but he was shrugged off.
“I’m not going to stop.” BJ said, continuing the heart massage. Hawkeye’s body wasn’t responding, and giving the heart one, last desperate squeeze BJ gave a strangled sob and let go, turning away from his friend.
“You tried your best son. He was so badly beat up, it’s amazing he was walking.” Potter said soothingly, his voice choked with tears. Bigalow had called in Father Mulcahy who was about to perform the last rights.
“Doctor! Doctor!” Kellye called frantically. BJ and Potter whipped around. “He’s breathing again, heartbeat climbing to normal.”
“Thank God, thank God, oh thank God.” BJ was close to hyperventilating.
“Thank the Lord. Colonel what do you want me to tell everyone outside, they believe Hawkeye is dead.” Father Mulcahy asked, as Colonel Potter began closing Hawkeye’s torso, which was split practically from neck to navel.
“That we were a bit premature in calling for your services.” Colonel Potter replied.
“May the Lord be praised.” Mulcahy whispered, uttering a silent prayer before he went. A cheer was audible as Potter and BJ carried Hawkeye through to Post-Op. His condition was still critical, but if he saw the night, he’d probably pull through.
“Can I see him?” Margaret asked sometime later as BJ prepared to go to sleep.
“Promise you won’t blush, he’s half-naked?” BJ teased wearily. Margaret silenced any further jokes with a look, and BJ took her hand and led her into Post-Op.
“Oh God, it’s awful.” Margaret said, tears falling silently down her cheeks. A shadow of his former self, Hawkeye lay pale and thin on the bed, one ankle in a cast, a bandage covering his entire chest. Tubes ran in and out of his arms that were bruised from the constant needles.
“He’ll be okay.” BJ whispered, Margaret turned to him, and he held her for a second, while she started to cry. “If he sees the morning he’ll be okay.” She laid her head against his shoulder, crying, while he held her in a warm hug and rocked her.
“I’ll sit with him for a while, you go to bed.” Margaret said, sitting down beside the bed. BJ, too tired to argue went to bed, and as he left Margaret took Hawkeye’s hand.
“Hawkeye, can you hear me? It’s Margaret. You had me worried there for a while, but I’m glad you’re back. Really glad, you know that? I’ll stay with you; I want me to be the first person you see when you wake up. Now you get better.” She kissed the hand she held, realising that she still wore his mother’s rings. “I’ll give you the rings when you wake. Now just get better, you hear?” She kissed his forehead lightly. He stirred a little, trying to brush where her hair tickled him. “You get better, and that is the most direct order I’m ever going to give you.”
Hawkeye went into cardiac arrest twice more during the night, but he kept fighting, and Margaret stayed with him, and every time he threatened to slip away from them again, she was the one who started resuscitation early enough to save him.
She was tired, she’d been awake all night, and finally at about 5am her eyelids lost the battle, she was asleep, curled next to the bed, holding his hand. BJ who had been woken the when Hawkeye’s heart stopped, was still prowling Post-Op.
“Poor girl.” He whispered, and with Baker’s help, lifted Margaret onto the bed next to Hawkeye’s. He pulled off her boots and covered her with a blanket. “He’ll be fine, you’re watching over him, he’ll be fine.” He reached down to pull the clasp from Margaret’s hair as it was pointy and hard and could do some serious injury to an eye.
Margaret slept on, and so did Hawkeye. Although he was alive, he had not woken up yet, and it was the next hurdle to recovery. Margaret woke at 8, hungry and confused, but as soon as she saw Hawkeye, she knew where she was and why. Hastening to see if he was still alive, Margaret checked his pulse and breathing. Once done, she let the hand slip from hers, threw her head down on the pillow and cried like she’d never cried before.
“Margaret!” BJ had given up any idea of sleep and was still roaming the hospital. “Margaret, what is it?” He hurriedly checked Hawkeye’s vitals. “Margaret, it’s okay, he’s alive.”
“I know!” Margaret sobbed. “I just . . . Oh! I’m so stupid to think like that, but I thought he was dead!” BJ rubbed her back for a few minutes while she composed herself.
“Better? Let’s go get breakfast, he’ll be okay without us for a few minutes.” BJ offered and together they went into the Mess Tent and informed everyone of Hawkeye’s condition and got breakfast.
He stayed asleep for another three days, in which Margaret practically lived beside his bed. She left only to go to the latrine, or to eat and when the bunk next door was filled, she set up a cot. In her constant attention, he recovered well, and they knew at last, that he was out of danger.
Margaret had fallen asleep again, his hand clasped in hers, as she sat by the bed. However she woke suddenly when she felt an unmistakeable squeeze.
“Hawkeye? Hawkeye!” She whispered, and Hawkeye squeezed her hand again, letting her know he’d heard. “Open your eyes honey, wake up.” She continued encouraging him, and slowly he opened his eyes.
“BJ! He’s awake! Hawkeye, it’s so good to see you!” BJ came running at Margaret’s yell.
“Hawkeye, how are you feeling?” He groaned his reply. “Thought so, you’ve undergone some serious trauma.”
“Hey Hawkeye, I’m glad to see you’re okay.” Margaret ran a soft hand down his cheek. He caught the hand and held it tightly.
“I’m glad to see you’re glad I’m okay Margaret.” Hawkeye smiled weakly. “But why do you call me Hawkeye?”
“Because silly, that’s your name.” Margaret laughed, but BJ put a hand on her shoulder.
“Hawkeye, what’s your name?” He asked seriously.
“Apparently Hawkeye.” Hawkeye said dazedly. “That’s what you’re calling me.”
“That’s your nickname, what’s your real name?”
“Hawkeye.” Hawkeye repeated.
“Where are you?” BJ asked.
“M*A*S*H 4077 Ouijonbou, Korea. It’s 1952. I know WHERE I am.”
“Who am I?”
“I know who you are, you’re BJ, and she’s Margaret.” He added with a smile in the concerned woman’s direction. She still held his hands tightly in hers. “Who am I? Where are my tags?”
“Hawkeye . . .” BJ started anxiously.
“Stop calling me Hawkeye! Who the hell is this Hawkeye person?” he snapped. BJ and Margaret were shocked, and shared anxious glances, it appeared Hawkeye wasn’t quite so well as they thought.
To Be Continued...
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