Author's Note: Written by request for BTme. This might not end up being exactly what you had in mind, but I hope you like it anyway.

Anachronism alert: After I had already settled on the title for this story, I was reading online that the term "collateral damage" apparently didn't come into use until the 1960s. Apologies for being historically inaccurate.

Collateral Damage

October 1953

B.J. thought, in a strangely detached way: If it isn't one war, it's another.

His mind was opting for detachment because the alternative was to acknowledge the horror of the situation. But then again, what had he expected? Had he actually thought this was going to end well, or anywhere in the neighborhood of well? How could he have been so naïve?

Peg's eyes were fierce, her face red out of pure anger, her hands visibly shaking as she gestured to punctuate her words: "Did you not hear me, B.J.? I said get out of here now!"

"Peg, hang on a second, let's take a deep breath here—"

"No. No, I'm not going to hang on a second." Her voice was so cold B.J. could almost feel the temperature in the room drop ten degrees. "I'm not going to do anything you tell me to do. Hell, I'm not even going to listen to you one minute longer. Get out of this house now."

B.J. fleetingly realized that, while Peg was certainly the angriest he'd ever seen her, she was somehow managing to keep her voice from getting too loud. Ever the conscientious mother, she was not going to alert their daughter—who was presumably asleep upstairs—to the war that was taking place in the kitchen.

He reached out a hand, hoping to calm her, hoping to get her to settle down a little and maybe listen… but now she took a big swing at him, her fist not actually making contact, but her intent was clear. She wanted to hurt him. He took a step backward just in case she tried to hit again.

"So this is it, then," he said, and she began nodding furiously.

"Yes, this is it. You made that decision when you decided to sleep with that… that..." She waved her hand, as if Hawkeye was standing right behind him. "…degenerate."

"Peg—"

"I'm not going to say it again. Get out." She pushed at him this time, and he thought, Well at least she's not trying to hit, but she did put a lot of muscle into that shove. So finally, he began to move toward the front door, as she wanted.

Still, even as he headed out, he kept trying. "After you've calmed down, let's talk, OK? We have things we have to work out—"

"There's nothing to work out, B.J."

"Of course there is."

"No, there isn't. You will hear from my lawyer, not from me. Do not call me, I mean it, B.J."

He stopped at the door, turned to face her. "But what about Erin?"

It didn't seem possible, but Peg's face got even redder. Her hand curled into a fist, and B.J. backed away. "You've forfeited your relationship with Erin. You won't be seeing her, B.J.—ever. You might as well get used to the idea. My daughter isn't going to be exposed to that shit. Now for the absolutely last time, get out of my sight, you… queer!"

B.J., thunderstruck, stepped out of what was clearly no longer his house and down the steps of the front porch, his heart pounding. Did he hear that right? He wasn't ever going to see his daughter again? Was that possible?

Out on the sidewalk, he stood still for a long moment, staring in the direction of his car but not really seeing it. How could he have so badly miscalculated his wife's reaction to his confession?

You've forfeited your relationship with Erin.

He honestly hadn't seen such a response coming, but now he felt foolish and dim. After all, it wasn't like this was his first war. He should have known there's always collateral damage.