Resolve

Author's Note: There were some passionate requests for a sequel to "Aftereffects," which was understandable given what a downer that one was. Everyone prefers a happy ending, and that includes me. But stories, like life, don't always work out that way. That said, I decided to accept the challenge of trying to write a sequel, and this is the result. While I don't hate it (I wouldn't post it if I did), my personal preference would be to let the original story stand alone… I like the ambiguous if sad ending of that one. But for those who wanted some kind of resolution—especially Meatball Surgeons, Unbidden-Angel, Kreative Kerri, and k and k kreations—here you go.

Hawkeye and B.J. walked leisurely, side by side, along the beach. To their right, the tide came in and went out, came in and went out. Seagulls cawed overhead and a hazy sun warmed the sand and their skin.

B.J. glanced over at Hawkeye with a smirk. "Didn't we just do this a few weeks ago?"

"Does seem like déjà vu, yeah. Except the seagulls have a California accent."

"I think it's more like the seagulls in Maine were the ones with the accent." B.J. stuck his hands in his pants pockets and looked down at his feet. "I'm glad you called me, Hawk. I felt like that last visit was too rushed… like we didn't really have the time to talk, you know, like we should have."

Hawkeye shrugged. "We had our hands full with eight kids, a bossy blonde nurse, a nearsighted farmboy, a happily retired commanding officer, a former transvestite, and a tender-hearted priest." He paused only for a second, then sang, "And a partridge in a pair tree."

B.J. laughed. "Yeah. Lots going on that day. Even so, I should have taken more time with you."

Their pace had slowed, though they'd been strolling rather leisurely to begin with. Hawkeye didn't look at his friend as he said, "I don't think I was ready to spill my guts to you, Beej. I was lost inside myself… still feeling that way, actually. Ask my dad. He's the one who said I needed to get away for a while, before the school year started."

"He's doing all right, your dad? Enjoying his retirement?"

"He's very lazy and very happy, yes. He's almost completely stopped complaining that his practice is being quote 'run all wrong' unquote by that no-good Vernon Parsons."

B.J. stopped walking then, putting a hand on Hawkeye's forearm. "Maybe that's where we should start, Hawk. Why didn't you take over your dad's practice? He wanted you to. You'd been working with him for a long time."

They were standing there facing one another, and it felt beyond déjà vu… it felt to Hawkeye like he was back on that Maine beach five weeks before, looking at his concerned best friend and trying to figure out what to say to him.

Back then, he had lied.

He looked past B.J. out at the rolling ocean and replied, "I thought I wanted to get back into surgery. After being in private practice for so long… I thought I was ready. Dad bugged me about taking over his practice for a long time, that's for sure. But I was pretty stubborn."

"Who—you?" B.J. teased.

Hawkeye looked back at him, ventured a small smile. "Hard to believe, I know." He paused for a moment, tried to harness his racing thoughts. It was difficult, trying to finally put words to what he'd been going through lately. But he'd come all the way out here with his mind made up: he wanted to talk, and he wanted to talk to B.J. He shrugged and continued, "So finally Dad just gave in. OK, he said, I'll hand over the practice to Vernon Parsons." Hawkeye couldn't help it; he made a face at his own mention of the man's name. "Still hate that guy, Beej. He's so incredibly average."

B.J. nodded. He'd heard this chorus many times before. "But you let it happen anyway."

"I did," Hawkeye agreed. "Like I said, I wanted to work in a hospital again. Got myself a position at Maine Memorial almost right away… couldn't wait to sink my teeth into surgery again…" he grinned. "So to speak."

"And?" B.J. cocked his head, like a puppy.

Hawkeye could feel his body go tense as the memories began to seep in. The attempted appendectomy, how he couldn't do it, how he had to leave the OR, how he couldn't even explain afterward what had gone wrong. He swallowed, took a deep breath. "Couldn't operate, Beej. I had a scalpel in my hand, nurses at my side, a patient laid out in front of me. And I could not operate." He let out a small, bitter laugh. "Don't even ask me why not. I've asked myself a hundred times already. I don't know what happened."

"I'm sorry, Hawk," B.J. said, apparently feeling the need to say something. Wasn't B.J.'s fault, of course… wasn't anyone's fault, as far as Hawkeye could tell.

Hawkeye stared out into the ocean again. "Quit my job the very next day. I didn't even want to try again. I was having anxiety attacks just thinking about the hospital. I knew I couldn't keep on working there. So I just up and quit." He went quiet for a long moment, listening to the seagulls, letting their melodious cries soothe him. He'd always loved the sounds of the beach. "Scary, Beej," he finally continued. "Being a surgeon but not being able to be a surgeon. Scary and mind-boggling and depressing. For a couple of days, I couldn't get out of bed. For a long time, I thought I wanted to die."

He shifted his gaze from the ocean to B.J.'s face, petrified of what he might see there. But there was no reason to worry. The expression on his best friend's face wasn't one of revulsion or contempt; it was one of sympathy and love.

B.J. reached out and pulled him into a hug, and Hawkeye held on tight, immensely grateful for the support. He wouldn't let himself cry—he'd already shed enough tears over all of this—but he did allow himself to be consoled and comforted. It was one of the reasons he'd decided to talk this over with B.J. instead of Sidney. This right here… this was the difference between your therapist and your best friend.

Hawkeye pulled away first, wanting to spill out the rest of his story before he lost his resolve. Still emotional, he had to clear his throat before he could speak again. "Anyway, long story short… for a while, I did a lot of drinking and feeling sorry for myself. Vernon Parsons already had taken over Dad's practice, and I didn't want to make the whole situation worse, so I didn't tell my dad what had actually happened. I told him, of course, that I quit the hospital, but I said the reason was that I didn't like the chief surgeon. Too much of an asshole, I said. And when Dad wondered what the hell I was going to do for a living, in that persistent, gruff-but-loving way of his, I said I had always wanted to teach." Hawkeye laughed, this time a full-throated, genuine laugh. "I'd never even thought about teaching, it just came out of my mouth!"

B.J. laughed too. "And so," he said, "your fate was sealed."

"Sure was." Hawkeye gestured that they should start walking again, and they did. "You pretty much know the rest, Beej. I was so adamant about Dad not finding out the truth that I lived my lie. I started teaching high school, and even though I've been saying how much I love it… I really don't. Seems like there have been layers and layers of lies, to Dad and to you and to Sidney and to just about anyone who has tried to talk to me. And I'm sorry. I really am."

"It's OK, Hawk," B.J. assured him. "I understand."

"So this is where we're at. School starts up again in less than a month," Hawkeye said with a world-weary sigh, "and I don't know if I can do it."

B.J. shrugged. "Then don't."

Hawkeye shot him a look. "Just like that, huh?"

"Hawkeye, you need to do what will make you happy. If teaching is making you miserable, then you should quit."

"And then… what? Did you hear the part of the story where I can't operate anymore?"

B.J. hesitated. Opened his mouth, closed it again, gave Hawkeye a guarded look. Finally, he said, "Hawk, I knew things weren't right with you, even when you were trying to pretend everything was peachy. So I've been thinking for a long time… well, I was hoping you might consider this. Maybe it would be good for you. Good for both of us." He paused and Hawkeye waited, unsure what to expect. "I'd love it if you moved out here and the two of us opened a practice together. A general practice. Small-town practice, in Mill Valley."

Hawkeye was so thrown he stopped walking… practically stopped breathing. "Are you shitting me? Move out here?"

With a warm, welcoming smile, B.J. said, "Is there any reason why not?"

"My dad?" Hawkeye pointed out. Just for starters.

"Your dad is retired. Maybe he'd be willing to follow you out here. Get away from the snowiest, coldest state known to mankind."

Hawkeye was defensive. "It's not all that bad," he said with his Maine pride.

"Well, let's just say, for the sake of argument, that your dad would be OK with moving out here with you. What do you think? You and me, working together again, having our own practice. Does it sound like a good thought?"

Hawkeye fell silent as he considered the idea. It'd be an adjustment; he'd lived in Crabapple Cove his whole life, save for those three endless years in Korea. He'd miss it, but hell, California was nice. Really nice.

But would Dad be willing to make the move too? Because if not, that would be an even bigger adjustment. Apron strings… hero worship… whatever you wanted to call it, Daniel Pierce was a big part of Hawkeye.

But if Dad said OK…

If this actually worked out…

His thoughts were still racing, but now they were all good thoughts… cozy thoughts… happy ones. He felt nearly weak with a foreign sensation… a feeling he finally identified as hope. Mixed with a kind of peace.

Hawkeye lifted his face, drinking in the warmth of the sun, smelling the salt air and listening to the gulls. He closed his eyes and choked back a sob.

"It sounds like a thought worth thinking about," he finally replied in a soft voice.

When he opened his eyes, B.J. was still there, smiling, his hand held out.

Funny… he didn't look like a tall, fair-haired young doctor with size 14 feet and a cheesy moustache.

He looked like salvation.