Chapter 6

As soon as the shelve hit me, I cried out in pain. It sat diagonally across my just below my stomach, crushing my legs beneath both the shelving and its contents, like boxes, glass bottles and any other medical supplies you'd care to name.

And then it really hit me. I made a sound, from my mouth! Not just a gurgle or a whistle or anything, but a real, half-human sound! Dare I try again, in case I couldn't?

That decision was made for me when a piece of glass pierced my leg and I gasped and cursed in pain. My next concern was for Hawkeye.

"Hawkeye," I called out, my voice wavering and weak, but still there.

"Beej, we're trapped in here! We're never going to get out!"

Hawkeye hadn't actually noticed that for one thing I was trapped under a shelve and whatever was on the shelf before it fell on me, and for another he hadn't noticed that I'd gotten my voice back. At the time, that wasn't my main concern. I needed to calm him down, somehow.

"Hawk," I called again. "Come here."

A simple command, but through the ranting and raving he managed that much. I had to make him feel safe, make him feel that he was in no danger. Being on the floor and in a lot of pain made it difficult.

"Hawkeye, we're going to be fine, okay? As long as you're with me, I won't let anything hurt you."

Hawkeye seemed to understand, and as if wanting more protection he joined me on the floor. I reached up and took him into a comforting hug. I felt his tense form relax and he seemed to be drained. He curled up with his head on my chest. Like he had done with me not so long ago, I rubbed his back soothingly, and it calmed him down.

"Close your eyes," I whispered softly. "Imagine you're on the biggest beach in the world. The sand is soft like powder and goes on for miles. The ocean is endless. The sky is bright blue and the sun is shining. Are you there yet?"

I half felt and half saw Hawkeye nod. His breathing was regular now, as he had calmed down. It was half-surprised that it had worked, because I'd never been in the situation to try it out before. It was the first idea that came into my head so I guessed that I should use it. For a moment, it even took my mind off of the screaming pain in my legs.

"Thanks, Beej," Hawkeye half-whispered.

"For what?"

"For being here," he replied sleepily.

It was nice to be thanked, but I still couldn't forget about what was on top of the lower part of my body. More blood was seeping out of my leg, and it was beginning to make me feel dizzy.

Suddenly, I heard some banging noises coming from outside, and then light flooded into the Supply Tent.

Hawkeye must have heard the noise too, because he opened his eyes and saw the door was open. He immediately jumped off of me and ran outside. Startled by this, I saw Colonel Potter and Klinger. When they saw me under the shelf, their startled expressions turned to those of shocked. I put my hand up feebly to wave at them as they hurried over.

"Klinger, help me get all this off of him," the Colonel commanded, taking part of the shelf. "Don't worry, BJ, Colonel Potter and Klinger here."

"I know," I said, which was probably not a wise move since they almost dropped the shelf back on me in surprise.

"You can talk?"

"You can see?"

Both Klinger and Sherman asked the two questions at the same time, bringing a smile to my pained face.

"Yeah," I replied. "Know what happened? Started raining bombs outside, so Hawkeye and me came in here. The door got stuck. Hawkeye's claustrophobic." I hesitated at the next part, and then continued. "I stumbled badly and fell into the shelf. It obviously wasn't happy because it fell back on me. I managed to calm Hawkeye down a bit."

Sherman wasn't convinced. As he ripped my shirt open to check for other injuries, he asked, "Did the shelf push you back with its hands before it fell on you? If not, why have you got bruises here and here?" He pointed to where Hawkeye had pushed me.

"Some stuff fell on me," I replied quickly. I could tell Potter wasn't buying it, but he let it go. To change his direction of thoughts, I truthfully added, "Please hurry, it hurts badly."

When I was put on a stretcher and taken into Pre-Op, Potter could assess the damage better there. He poked and prodded for some time before concluding, "Broken left femur, and a lot of glass that we're going to have to operate on to get out. That'll have to be done now, because of the loss of blood."

I nodded, feeling myself turning white. I'd done hundred of operations in this place, but being the person being operated on was a totally different game. As they lowered me onto a table in OR, I saw Hawkeye come in, dressed and ready for surgery. Was he really fit to operate?

"I want a local anaesthetic," I demanded.

"No chance," Potter said, giving the signal. Before I knew anything more, the black mask was lowered and the real world seeped away.

I woke up some time later, facing the ceiling in Post-Op. My first realisation was that I had survived and was alive. Well, I had very little chance of dying from an operation as simple as removing glass fragments from my leg. I still didn't understand why Potter put me under in the first place.

"Good morning, how's the patient this morning?" The familiar voice of Hawkeye flooded into my ears. It was not, however, the same voice that I had last heard. That voice was weak, defenceless, and scared. This one was cheery and upbeat, Hawkeye's usual style.

"The patient is doing great, thanks," I said, sitting up in bed. "How about the doctor?"

Hawkeye's face was a mixture of remorse, some guilt, and a lot of seriousness. He pulled up the well-used chair and sat beside me. "I don't know what happened in there but I can guess."

"What do you mean, you don't know what happened?"

"Well, I know we got stuck in there and I went a bit, erm, wild," Hawkeye began. He bent his head closer to me and whispered, "I'm claustrophobic."

I rolled my eyes. "I may not have been 100% in here, but I guessed that much."

"Oh," Hawkeye replied. "I heard you speak in there, and maybe you saw stuff too, but it didn't register."

"Gathered that much, too," I said.

"Colonel Potter said he didn't much like the bruises you got," Hawkeye said, pointing to my chest. "Wondered how you got them."

I said nothing. I wasn't about to remind Hawkeye of what he did. I think he spent a moment staring at the shape of the bruises before it finally hit him, and he clapped his hand over his mouth.

"What?" I asked, as I jumped slightly in surprise.

"Was that. was that me?"

I didn't even have to answer him, he knew.

"Beej," he began, still shocked. "I, I can't believe it! I'm so, so sorry."

I put my hand up to stop him. "Far as I'm concerned, I stumbled into the shelf."

"What? You're just going to forget about it?"

I nodded.

I think Hawkeye was more shock before. "Why?" he asked, barely audibly.

"Well, I know you didn't do it on purpose, and it wasn't really you in there, it was just some guy who took over. I just thought it better to keep what happened our secret."

Hawkeye nodded. It was a very noble gesture, one performed by only the greatest of friends.

"You're great beyond words," Hawkeye told me solemnly. "What would I ever do without you?"

I smiled. I was about to ask him the same thing.


A/N: You all know what my endings of stories are like (rubbish!) but I tried. Thanks for all the reviews, hope you liked the story, and I'll post another soon. (For those who read my first Against The Odds story, it'll be the second on. Watch this space!)