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By the time BJ came to, it was dark. The kind of darkness that seemed to consume you, rather then just be around you. He could hear sounds from across camp and figured that the operations must be nearly completed.
He was right. A minute later Hawkeye walked in, flipping on a light. He sat on his bed and stared at BJ, "hey." He said, after a long pause. BJ returned the "hey."
They stared at each other for a couple long seconds before Hawkeye broke the silence once again, "So no more over-exerting yourself, right Beej?" it was more of a statement then a question.
BJ nodded, "Yeah..." they sat there in comfortable silence for a while, then, "There was this kid, bad bullet wound to the chest. Did he make it?" he remembered the kid because he looked so much like Hawkeye that BJ had actually thought for a moment that he was staring at his friend.
"Which one?" Hawkeye asked, stretching out, "There were a couple."
BJ tried to remember, "He had dark hair. The bullet was pretty high up, probably just above the ribs."
Hawkeye's brow furrowed. "Yeah, but that was a heck of an operation. Barely had enough blood for him."
Hawkeye's breathing became slow and steady, so BJ thought that he hadn't heard him when he said out loud, "It could be worse."
Hawkeye stirred and opened one eye. "What could be worse? The kid?" he didn't quite follow.
"No. Me. It could've been worse." BJ had been thinking that for a while now. He felt like such a burden. His friends should be worrying about kids who really needed them.
Hawkeye propped himself up on one elbow. "You know Beej, they have a name for people who have worse injuries then you did."
"Dead." Hawkeye let himself drop back down and turned off his light, plunging the room into darkness.
BJ wasn't tired, and for once his body didn't hurt too bad. He lay in bed, thinking about what Hawkeye had said. He never did make sense of it.
I think that's the end. There's not much more to say except to review.