The soft chirping of crickets - or whatever crickets are called in Korea - is the only sound to be heard. The music of the night is gentle, a soothing, distant, rhythmic sound unmarred by helicopter noise or screaming or yelling, or indeed, any other unpleasant sound. The 4077th is at rest. "I can't *sleep* with all that noise!" Hawkeye turns over for the nine hundred and fifty-fourth time, kicks his blanket off, thumps his pillow, decides that he wants the blanket after all, gets it, lies down again, thumps the pillow again, wrestles angrily with the blanket, tosses it aside in disgust, and adds, "It's too hot." There's a groan from somewhere off in BJ's direction. "And what, misery loves company? We're both gonna be a lot *more* miserable if you wake up Charles." There's a soft, irate thump from his side of the Swamp - BJ hitting his wrist on the edge of something as he turns over. "Ow!" "Oh, please, nothing short of a stock market crash is gonna wake Charles." Hawkeye gives up, sitting up to switch his light on. "It's probably too late to go see if Jackson's up." She has the most gorgeous...attributes...he's ever seen. BJ miseries, squinting into the light. "Oh come on, the least you can do after waking me up is keep the light off." Complain, complain. He sits up, too, yawning cavernously. "The only way Jackson'd be awake at this hour is if she wasn't leering at Radar because of his excellent taste in hats." "At *Radar*?" Hawkeye is inclined to laugh. Then he remembers that would be cruel, and merely looks briefly confused. "Uh, well. Good for him." Dammit. "And why would I keep the light off, that way I couldn't see my own insomnia." Shrugging tiredly and yawning again, BJ makes a vague gesture in the air. "I think it's kind of like that redhead last year. Remember when we had Radar 'promoted'? Some of these nurses have a thing for enlisted men." He miseries a little more, and flops back on his pillow. "And I don't know, maybe out of the kindness of your heart?" "Hey, I could've been an enlisted man! Shoulda been a bricklayer like Mom wanted." Hawkeye fails to switch the light off, instead standing and digging around for his bathrobe. He's up now, dammit. "I'm gonna go look for something to read, you coming?" Colonel Potter is rumoured to be hoarding An Actual Book. BJ makes like to smother himself with his pillow, but just sighs noisily into it and gets up, all at once. Squinting with his whole face, he picks his own bathrobe up off the end of his bed and sulkily puts it on. "I'm not gonna be able to get back to sleep," he says accusingly. "I knew I could count on you," says Hawkeye sweetly, exiting the Swamp into the marginally cooler night-time air. It's very, very quiet. Presumeably someone somewhere in the camp is on guard duty, but it's anyone's guess where they've got to. "Come on, I bet it's in his office." All work and no play makes Hawkeye criminally inclined. Merely rolling his eyes as he follows Hawkeye out into the night, BJ walks silently for a moment, then blinks. "'It'? Something to read, 'it', in 'his' office," he repeats suspiciously. "You woke me up to raid Potter's office for a book? You owe me a drink now." "Oh, sure, tell me you're not desperate for something to read." Hawkeye whispers, ambling around the Swamp and making for the main tent. "I saw you stealing the top level of a prescription pad just to look at Charles' signature." "At least I'm not as desperate as you, starting chain letters that no one *ever* sends back," retorts BJ halfheartedly. He grumps quietly behind Hawkeye, eyes straying over the camp to look out for whoever's on guard duty. "And besides, as much as I know you'd like me to, I'm *not* cuddling up with you to share Potter's book. So you still owe me a drink." "I'm desperate. I read my dogtags fifteen times today. I need literature, Beej, preferably the kind without pictures. I need to expand my mind!" Hawkeye is declaiming now and getting a bit loud. "I need to exercise my intellect!" "You need to keep it down," says BJ matter-of-factly, just sort of standing there, waiting for Hawkeye to finish his soapboxing or whoever's on duty to shoot them, whichever comes first. Whoever's on duty apparently recognizes the voice. There is a muted cheer from the other side of the camp. "See? The public agrees. Today the four-oh-seven-seventh, tomorrow the world." Hawkeye pauses outside the door and raises a finger for quiet. Radar sleeps heavy but he sometimes knows you're coming. "Anyway, it's a mystery, Beej, you like those." "So while *you're* busy reading the mystery, I can be busy drinking the drink you owe me," says BJ in a low voice, sure that he's being perfectly reasonable. See how utterly I avoid making mention of the drink I owe you. Hawkeye opens the door and tiptoes very cautiously across the clerk's office. Radar is asleep, teddybear and all. Awwww. He neglects to hold Potter's door open for BJ, letting it swing. ...letting it swing into BJ with a thunk and a clatter and an 'ow', in fact. He's just not doing well tonight. And he won't forget the drink Hawkeye very emphatically owes him. The surgeon freezes at the sound, *sure* it's going to wake someone up, and glares at his friend in the meantime. "Wffffnnmmmrrnother five minutes, Mom..." Radar turns over, mumbling. Hawkeye is frozen in his turn, on the other side of the door. He grins apologetically at BJ, then dashes around Potter's desk to begin a stealthy-like-ninja search of the drawers. It must be in here somewhere. BJ sighs *very* quietly and opens the door silently, slipping inside, and sticking around there in order to make a better getaway for the two of them if Potter shows. He eyes Radar warily. It's not here, it's not here, it's not here! "It's not here," hisses Hawkeye, not making much effort to make the drawers look untampered-with. He's very tired and overheated and astoundingly bored. "Hey, maybe there'll be documents to read at the court-martial." Radar, for his part, seems to have dozed off again. Every so often he stirs slightly and mutters. Right. No book. Then they're here for no reason at all! And the longer BJ stands there, the more he's certain Radar's going to wake up. "Fine; let's go. You're so bored, let's do the string-and-honey thing to...someone who won't strike back." A moment more is spent rummaging in desk drawers. Then Hawkeye lightbulbs, bouncing upright. "He'll have taken it to bed with him!" Oops, we're being quiet. He resumes at a stagewhisper. "He'll have taken it to bed with him. We can still get it." Hello insanity. Radar giggles at something in his dream. BJ very slowly facepalms, and drags his hand down his face resignedly. "Can't we wait until he's done reading it?" he stage-whispers back hopefully. "Are you kidding?" Hawkeye bounds past BJ and through the clerk's office at high speed. This must be the upswing. "By the time he's read it Erin will be in high school. Come on!" And he's gone into the camp again. Radar stirs and turns over, blinking fuzzily. Oh, crud. He has a point, but - no. No no no. Radar's waking up. BJ slips through afterwards, the adrenaline jolting him out of anything that remained of his grumpy sleepiness. There's nothing like being just about to get caught to wake you up. "This'd better be a damn good book, Hawkeye," he hisses. Positively gleeful, Hawkeye neatly dodges an abandoned tentpole, making for the C.O.'s tent at reckless speed. "Any book would do. How many times have you read the field manual in the last week?" He slows on nearing Potter's tent. "The plot's not much but the situations, they seem so real." "Anything but nurse novels," says BJ fervently, glancing back to see if Radar's followed him. "I get enough of that plot watching -you-. Or watching your empty cot while you're off in the bushes somewhere..." "Jealous?" Hawkeye looks around and bats his eyelashes at BJ. Radar has gone so far as to stick his head out of the door, but he's without his glasses and round a corner. Which is lucky. Very lucky. He'd be disappointed in them, and that's far worse than a court martial. BJ makes a face, shaking his head. "You know all I want to do is get home to Peg and Erin," he says softly. Well, listen, -you- got him out of bed, Hawkeye, and you owe him a drink. "Yeah, I know," says Hawkeye fondly. Ya big turkey. "Now I have it on good authority - namely mine - that Potter took a sleeping pill this evening." Hell yes he was bored enough to pay attention. The errant surgeon creeps up to Potter's tent and peeks in at the window. "So unless he's taken to keeping Sophie in there to hold off burglars, we should be home free." "Want I should get a sugar cube just for safety's sake?" quips BJ, coming up behind Hawkeye and glancing in the window, as well. No movement, how nice. "If it's a good mystery that I haven't read yet, I'll let you get away with just mixing me a martini," he offers. "Uh-uh." Hawkeye turns to BJ, briefly looking serious. Though Beej probably knows him well enough to realise that this is the 'I am pretending to be serious because I want something' expression. "You'd better go in and get it, partner." "Woah-ho-hohhhh, no," says BJ, eyes wide, stepping back with his hands out in front of him. "The last time you got me to take the risk, I ended up out a camera and with a nice solid hand-shaped red mark on my face for a day. We go in *together*, and you go in first." Cue pleading. Watch out, here come the puppyeyes. "Aw, Beej." Hawkeye advances, palms pressed together and fingers linked in an attitude of prayer. "I need you to go in! You have an honest face, he won't suspect you." "He won't suspect me if I'm there in his tent holding the book that he fell asleep reading?" asks BJ incredulously, shaking his head. "And besides, he knows where I live. He'd know who put me up to it without even asking. Come on, Hawkeye - how bad d'you want that book?" And he's not stage-whispering anymore. Just talking. But!...those are solid points, dammit. "I'll do your OD duty for a month." Hawkeye hates being Officer of the Day. He's perfected a method of doing as little as possible, Radar usually straightens everything out. "Ooh, tempting." Very tempting. But BJ shakes his head. "I saw all the Jameson's that guy left you when he went home. You throw in a bottle of that and I'll do it." "Done!" BJ *thinks* he saw all of it. Ahaha. Hawkeye begins steering his friend back towards Potter's door. "That was awfully quick," mutters BJ sourly, allowing himself to be steered toward the door. He puts a hand on the handle and then immediately turns around. "Oh well, it's locked. Time to go back." "Oh, no no no no no, come on." Hawkeye makes to turn BJ around by the shoulders. "Faint heart never won fair lady." Not that this is about a lady. In any way. Lord no. "We who are about to die salute you," mumbles BJ, finally opening the door, quite damn gloomily. He shoots Hawkeye a venomous look. He's reading the book first, damnit, after all this. And then he's inside. Or possibly not. Because blocking ingress is an extremely frazzled and irritated man with a silver bird on his hat and a sleeping pill on his bedside table. "Just what in blue blazes are you doing sneaking around my tent at three-thirty in the a.m, Hunnicutt?!" On a side note, it's amazing how quickly Hawkeye can disappear when he senses danger. "It doesn't fit." Apparently this isn't a new predicament for BJ Hunnicutt. He's immediately got this ultra-sleepy look on his face, his eyes almost closed and his expression entirely slack. And he's standing perfectly still. A long, skeptical squint is forthcoming from Sherman Potter. "Hunnicutt?" Well if that don't beat all. He reaches to shake BJ lightly by the shoulder. "Hunnicutt!" The performance is beautiful. With a shudder and an incredibly confused look, the dawning light of comprehension appears in BJ's eyes, and he stares at the Colonel. "What the...Colonel Potter?" He glances around, adding a touch of horror to his confusion. "Oh no!" Something is screwy here. Potter eyes BJ. "You sleepwalk, son?" He did not know that. Somewhere outside but within earshot, Hawkeye is awed. "I...I do?" BJ is still disoriented, apparently. He *does* have an honest face, too. He plays it for all it's worth, giving Potter this *look* as he recounts what he remembers, "I don't remember ever sleepwalking...I had this dream I was walking across Death Valley and Mill Valley was on the other side..." Contrary to popular rumour, Colonel Sherman T. Potter is not made of stone. He claps a friendly, comforting hand to BJ's shoulder. "Looks like you had yourself a little post-lights-out constitutional, son. Best thing you can do is head on back and get some shut-eye. It was only a dream," he adds, in fatherly tone. BJ nods, looking chagrined. "Yes, sir," he says with a nod, turning to go. He looks back and says quite honestly, "Sorry, Colonel." And then he gets out of there as quickly as he can without looking like he's beating a hasty retreat. Colonel Potter shakes his head, turning back towards his bunk. It's always the quiet ones. Hawkeye, bubbling over with excited admiration, dashes to meet BJ a few yards from the C.O.'s tent. "That was *beautiful*," he whispers, delighted. "Just beautiful! I didn't know you had it in you! Even I wouldn't've thought of that!" BJ angsts, hand over his face. "I can't believe I pulled that on *Potter*," he breathes, shaking his head. "If he'd been cranky about it, that'd be okay. Aw, *geez*..." The look of chagrin has not left his features. Hawkeye takes hold of BJ's arm and shakes it, all enthused and happy and bouncing on his toes. "I can't believe you got away with it! You deserve a medal. Two. Three!" No. No, he took advantage of Potter's kindliness. And threw in a reference to home, to boot. BJ shakes his head again, keeping walking, but not shaking Hawkeye off or anything. "I'll settle for a drink." "I'll buy you the bar." The book will wait. --- A few minutes later... BJ is sulking in his chair, with his weird-looking hat over his eyes, silently working on the martini that Hawkeye's made him. "Yeah, I know I got away with it. Come on, you can't tell me you wouldn't've thought of pretending to sleepwalk..." "I wouldn't!" Hawkeye hasn't yet lost the bubbling enthusiasm BJ's quick thinking has stirred in him. It's definitely the upswing. Just wait until tomorrow. "I just can't believe it! Didn't he even look suspicious?" The beginning of a smirk tugs at the edge of BJ's mouth, but he squashes it and takes another sip of his martini. "No," he confesses. "He was really surprised. You must've heard him, Hawk. Then I made sure I sounded as surprised as he did, and he didn't suspect a thing." "You," declares Hawkeye, wandering behind BJ to plant a hand on each of his friend's shoulders, "are my hero. From now on I promise to listen to everything you say unless it relates to nurses." Ooh, Hawkeye's not watching. BJ can, therefore, grin. And he lifts a finger to the brim of his hat, taking it away from his eyes, and raises his eyebrows. "Everything?" he asks. "Well...forty percent." Hawkeye gives BJ a very gentle shake and bounces off to get another martini. Hurray for BJ. "Think Radar's gonna remember? We could probably convince him it was somebody else." "I think I can live with forty percent," says BJ, slouching down a little bit more, not bothering to suppress his grin anymore. "And if I could convince Potter I was dreaming, you can convince Radar he was dreaming, too. Just try not to think about it beforehand." "No thinking! That I can do." Hawkeye is relentlessly cheerful. If entirely unsleepy. He leans on the pole holding the tent up. "Think it's four o'clock yet?" "I dunno, looked at a clock lately?" Mm. Martini. Enough of it and he -will- be getting that shuteye. Hawkeye's martini is downed. "Guh. Oh-three-hundred, not a good hour." The surgeon paces around in mystic little circles, restless and impatient and entirely sleepless. And he *should* be sleeping, he needs the rest. "Let's put Charles up the flagpole." "I have a better idea. Let's stuff grapes in Radar's bugle," replies BJ complacently. "Less traceable and more satisfying at oh-six-hundred." "Ah, but Radar doesn't deserve it." Hawkeye drums his hands on anything within reach. "If only Frank were still here. Let's call him!" "That's the best idea I've heard all night! We're reversing charges, right?" BJ finishes the rest of his own martini, sitting up and grinning again, adjusting his hat. "Of course! That's the military way." Hawkeye pauses a moment, then makes a fast one-handed grab for BJ's hat. "Hey!" BJ tussles briefly for his hat, but his heart's not in it, it seems. Hawkeye ends up with it. He looks all hurt for a second, then makes a grab for Hawkeye's hat, hanging on the end of something. "Oh-ho, I see, that's how it is!" Hawkeye points dramatically ceilingward with BJ's hat. "Failing to find originality, the coward could only derive his tactics from the genius-like manoeuverings of his opponent." "More like I have dirty hair and I wouldn't want to call on our old friend while quite so unpresentable." With a devilish smirk and a flair, BJ moves to put Hawkeye's hat on his apparently greasy head. "Wait!" Hawkeye raises his hands in surrender. "Prisoner exchange?" My haaat. BJ's smirk doesn't go away. If anything, it gets wider. He holds the hat inches from his head. "You admit defeat? You admit my cunning and brilliance are mightier than yours?" But! But! But! Hawkeye gapes for a moment. "I...I can't do it! Come on, Beej, where's your decency? Where's your reason? Where's your *humanity*?" BJ just waves the hat over his head, grinning. "Come on, Hawk. As I recall, you owe me a bar and a bottle of Jameson's, too. I'll settle for either of those instead of your abject humiliation." I have half a dozen bottles of Jameson's that you don't know about, ahaha. Hawkeye manages not to look faintly triumphant. "Okay, fine. Jameson's it is." He proffers BJ's hat, holding out the free hand to receive his own. "It's not like you even *have* all that much hair." BJ looks aghast, exchanging hats. "I have just as much as you! It's just...sort of further back than yours." And a mustache. He jams his hat on his head, looking sulkier than he did when they came in. "Are we gonna call Frank or not?" Hawkeye snatches back his own hat. "I'll take this, and call him in the morning. Which is now! I bet he'll just *love* to hear from us, it's been so long." He makes for the exit. Let's go waken Radar again, hurray. Immediately brightening, BJ follows. Bothering Frank is a panacea, it really is. Even though it's...noon or something. A normal hour, at any rate. Er, where Frank is. "Onward!"