It remains relentlessly July in Korea. Hot and humid. Everything
feels damp all the time, which leads to irritability and too much
laundry to do if you don't want to end up smelling like a wet
camel. Hawkeye is still out of sorts over being disagreed with and
generally misunderstood, and he's...well, he's not sulking,
because he's an adult, dammit, and adults don't sulk. But he's
moodily throwing the basketball at the hoop and missing more often
than not, and not really talking to anyone.

And then BJ catches it as he walks up, and makes a toss - it
bounces off the backboard. "Hey Hawkeye," he starts, shoving his
hands in his pockets. "If it *really* bothers you, the least you
could do is say why."

Hawkeye catches the ball on the rebound and turns a partly-angry
but mostly-tired look on BJ. "It doesn't bother you at *all*?"

BJ Hunnicutt shrugs, not cheerfully, but sincerely, at least.
"Cameras always make me a little nervous, but if this helps
educate people as to what goes on here, then I can squelch it."

It apparently doesn't bother BJ at all. Hawkeye frowns and looks
away, taking another shot and getting only backboard. He lets the
ball fall into the mud. "But we're not the only ones there, Beej."

"Where, in the OR? Of course we're not. What's your point?" He
still doesn't get it - honestly. Look at the expression on BJ's
face. Puzzled, a little defensive, but only because Hawkeye's a
little angry and he can't figure out why. "Come on, just say it,
Hawk. I'm no Holmes, here."

But if you don't understand it, then I'm probably just being
unreasonable, and if I'm being unreasonable that means I'm wrong,
and I hate being wrong because it leads to self-doubt and I have
enough of that already. Hawkeye trudges over to get the ball. "It
just feels wrong to me." Which is code for I Don't Want To Explain
Myself.

Yeah, and BJ's not having it. This is ridiculous. See, the thing
is, if Hawkeye has an honest objection to it, or even a gut
reaction objection to it, there's probably something wrong with
it. Maybe something wrong that can be fixed. Now it's Beej getting
the uncertainy and doubt thing. "Look, there's something -about-
it bugging you. You hinted at it, for pity's sake. Maybe if you
-told- me, or hell, told -her-, she would understand and you
wouldn't have to deal with it anymore. Are you concerned about the
nurses getting nervous in front of the camera? Or the wounded..."
A beat. "Oh."

Give that man a cigar. Hawkeye turns to BJ, the ball held rather
tightly because it's a good way of preventing himself gesturing
too much. See, everyone, I'm not agitated, I'm fine. "They don't
get to say whether or not they're on camera. Even if it's never
shown, that doesn't matter. What are we, a sideshow? People *die*
in there."

"She doesn't have to take pictures of their faces," protests Beej
weakly. It's a point, but he has a feeling he ought to lose the
argument. "You're right. You're right, I'm sorry. It never even
occurred to me."

Yeah, well, it should have done, thinks Hawkeye in a moment of
angry weakness, and he turns away to take another shot at the
hoop. This time the ball bounces off the rim. "We've had cameras
in Post-Op before. That's different. In the OR they're...they're
laid open. No defenses. No defenses except us."

Yeah what, now Hawk's gonna be mad at BJ because he's naive?
Because he was hoping to make a difference in public perception at
home? Because he thought letting people know the -truth- is better
than keeping them in the dark? Beej turns away, hands still in his
pockets, staring at the dirt. "Now why don't you tell that to
Dicky Chapelle."

Cue entrance, Dicky Chapelle, stage left. She's chatting and
laughing cheerfully with a couple of the boys in uniform who came
with the convoy. She's got her cameras around her neck, but
currently, she's carrying her arms a parachute. "...Okay, guys.
You go on ahead, and someone can come by later and make sure this
darn chute's all packed right before I actually get to use it. I'm
here for another two and a half days."

Oh joy, here she is. Hawkeye shrugs and looks down at the
basketball, which is brooding in the mud. BJ's occasional naivete
bothers him because it points up the fundamental differences in
their mental makeup. He likes to pretend there aren't any root
disagreements. "There are four doctors here, Beej, and I'm just
one of em. She already knows what I think."

"Yeah, but not why," mutters BJ, looking at Hawkeye with this
expression that's part irritated and part hurt - he's still mad.
"Hey there, Ms. Chapelle." We need to talk. ALL of us. Because,
damnit, she'll convince BJ back, but then he won't be able to
convince Hawkeye and we'll be back at square one.

Dicky Chapelle grins, turning away from the 'boys'. "Hey, docs.
What's cookin'?" She's still carrying her parachute, and she comes
bouncily up to the edge of the hoop area with it. "You guys look
mighty sour."

She's pretty. Dammit. Hawkeye fetches the basketball again so as
not to just stand there looking sullen. "Did you talk to Potter
yet?" He doesn't honestly think Potter will have any problems with
cameras in the OR.

"It's all the lemon juice we've been drinking," says BJ, still not
taking his hands out of his pockets. "Yeah, or have you run into
Charles?" Maybe Charles'll say no. Yeah, right, he'd give anything
to be bombastic for a reason.

Dicky Chapelle shakes her head. "Nah, unless it's that guy with
the gun name?" She grins happily, chipped tooth briefly visible.
"I talked to some guy - I think I wrote it down here, somewhere."
One hand slaps at her hip. "Turns out his cousin was my dean at
MIT, when I lived in Bah-stahn." It just figures, doesn't it.

Gun name? It actually takes Hawkeye a moment to work that one out.
Knowledgeable about guns, he ain't. "Everyone in Boston knows
everyone else. You're not married to a guy called MacIntyre, are
you?" He's avoiding the point.

Oh, yes, very helpful. Very mature. BJ fumes silently for a
second, then takes his hands from his pockets and crosses his
arms. "That'd be him. He didn't happen to say whether he was for
or against cameras in the OR, did he?"

"The Colonel's for it as long as I don't get in the way. Turns out
he knows some of the guys I worked with when I was in the
Pacific... when I was doing the pics for the blood drive posters.
You mighta seen 'em, they're still around." Probably - the
pictures from WWII, of the shot-up Marine, first right after being
brought in, then 24 hours after receiving transfusions. Used for
years to convince people to donate. Dicky grins cheerfully. "He
heard about how I tied myself to the rafters to keep from falling
on any of the amputees if I passed out. And the gun guy, as long
as I'm good enough as not to write anything too terribly vulgar,
he seems okay."

Hawkeye just turns this *look* on BJ. He's smiling, but not as if
he thinks anything is funny. "There, see? The Colonel thinks it's
okay. Charles thinks it's okay. So that's all okay. Okay?" He
hurls the ball at the hoop and, perhaps because he isn't paying
attention, scores nothing but net.

All right, who -cares- if Dicky sees. If that's how it is? That's
how it is, and screw decorum. "Hawkeye, knock it off! I agreed
with you. It's two against two, an even tie. And if you talk to
Potter I'm -sure- he'll agree with you, too." Beej is now
completely exasperated. He can't win. It's impossible! Hawkeye's
impossible. He turns to Dicky. "Look, you have to get our
permission to take pictures, right? Big problem here is, why don't
you have to get the patients' collective okay, too? Listen, it's
nothing on you, it's just...it's nothing on you."

Dicky Chapelle blinks a bit, dropping back a half-step, expression
wary and pugnacious. "What? - The patients, by and large, correct
me if I'm wrong here, are -unconscious- when they're carried in.
When they wake up, we usually circulate a release form." If they
wake up. But she didn't use the word if; she used when. "Look,
whatever." Definitely annoyed now. "You guys make up your minds.
When you finish your games, you know how to find me /and/ my
cameras. I've got a chute to pack, I'm jumping in two days."

"What if they *don't* wake up?" Hawkeye is suddenly rather close
to loss of temper. Take cover. "We can't do anything about what
happens to them out there," an outflung arm indicates the
direction of the front, "but once they get in here they're ours to
take care of and that is NOT a game! That is as far from a game as
it's possible to GET!"

BJ Hunnicutt just steps back. Good. You know, it's a pain in the
neck that he has to -start- Hawkeye off, but at least he can take
care of his own damn battles once he's got going. He watches,
definitely looking as sour as he had before.

Dicky Chapelle swings round again, tossing the parachute to the
side. Though she be little, yet she be fierce : Shakespeare
could've been describing this pint-sized blonde. "Listen,
/CAPTAIN/. I -know- some of those guys who go into the OR won't be
waking up. I know this, okay? I know this isn't a game. If you
think I do this for -fun-, then think again." She looks like she
just might haul off and sock Hawkeye, though she doesn't. "I do
what I do to make sure people /know/ what's going on. And that
means showing them the things they don't want to see, that yes,
people actually get hurt, and die horribly. And if you don't want
people to see that, /Doctor/... then I guess it's a good thing
you're the doctor and I'm the reporter."

Squaring off to her, Hawkeye is entirely prepared to stand here
and argue until the cows come home. And he *looks* like he might
just take a swing at her, though anyone who knows him at all will
know just how unlikely that really is. Call him 'captain' in that
tone of voice, will you. "All I care about is the people I'm here
to look after! If I can't stop them getting hurt in the first
place I'm sure as HELL going to make sure they don't get EXPLOITED
while they're here!"

Sighing, Beej looks away. She used his argument, and Hawkeye's not
using the right arguments to change her mind. They're not debating
at all, no, they're just fighting. Maybe they'll make up once he
gets her in bed. He leans against the basketball net's pole, going
back to watching.

"Oh, so I'm -exploiting- them, now, am I." Dicky looks like she
wants to snarl with rage and frustration, but she - again -
doesn't. "Great, that's just great. I suppose you think I'm going
to put pictures of wounded veterans up to sell toothpaste, too."
She turns away, still frustrated but not about to sock an officer.
"MY job is making sure the people back Stateside know what the
heck is going on, and hopefully getting them to realize how stupid
it is to send people here in the first place. And if that takes
showing them hurt people, then so be it. I've never yet met anyone
who complained about any of my pictures, and most of them have
been pretty darn happy to have me come round the next day and tell
them about it and snap pics of them out of OR. But, if that's how
you -feel-, doctor, by all means, allow me to remove myself from
your premises. I'll find someone -else- to bother." And she starts
storming over to her parachute.

Hey, no fair, he is not done venting yet. Hawkeye follows, and he
is unreasoningly, disproportionately furious. "Those people in
there are the most defenceless they can possibly get and you think
I'm supposed to allow some *reporter* to go in there pointing a
CAMERA at them? Yeah, I think you're exploiting them, and doing it
for the right REASONS does NOT make it OKAY!" He can really get up
some volume when he wants to.

"She -did- say there was a release form," BJ points out, sidling
after the vehemently arguing duo. "That they sign if they want
their pictures in. But I know, it's the idea that there's
something happening to them that they can't say no to." A beat.
"Half of them didn't consent to coming out here in the first
place. And I can guarantee none of them agreed to get shot. And
though I doubt any of them would say, 'Hey, you shouldn't've
operated on me, dammit, I didn't say you could' afterwards...none
of them have a choice about going into OR." A beat. "Not, of
course, that that has anything to do with anything..."

Dicky Chapelle was bending forward and down to pick up the
parachute, which puts her hands conveniently close to the camera
around her neck. She grabs it, turning around and up so it's
pointed at Hawkeye. *Click* "Congratulations, doc, you've been
exploited. Hope it was as good for you as it was for me." She lets
the camera fall by its strap to dangle again, picking up the
chute, preparatory to storming off.

And any other time he'd be so pleased to have a girl taking that
much of an interest. Hawkeye is distracted, though, because BJ
just said something he can hardly believe he heard. "WHAT?!"
Never. Never this angry. "HOW DARE YOU!" If it wasn't Hawkeye and
it wasn't BJ this would already be violence. As it is, his hands
curl into fists and he's white with rage. "How can you compare --
we HELP!" He'd be a lot more coherent and convincing if he didn't
have this disturbing red haze going on. BJ says it's the same
thing!

He could try and sound reasonable, but that would only make
Hawkeye more angry. So, sure, Beej gets into the game. He's
nowhere near as mad as Hawk, though - and he asked for this, so
it's not getting to him like the other surgeon's earlier anger
was. Illustrating wildly with his hands, he gives as good as he
gets - "How DARE I? How *dare* I, Hawkeye? Didn't you HEAR her? I
was RIGHT about why she wants to do this, why it's her JOB to do
this! And you ADMITTED it was for the right reasons! How can I
compare us helping them with her helping more guys just like them?
Those pictures get taken to try to PREVENT more kids, just like
the ones that go in there, from coming out here to get shot at! If
there's ONE good thing that comes of somebody getting shot, maybe
it could be stopping someone else from getting shot for a STUPID
war that we have no business fighting ANYWAY!"

Dicky Chapelle does the only thing a reporter in this position can
possibly do : she steps backwards a few paces, and starts taking
pictures. Blackmail material.

It's not the point! Because when they are here they are under his
care! And when they're under his care nobody gets to hurt them!
Not by striking them, not by arresting them, not by looking at
them funny and not by taking pictures without their consent and
yes BJ might be right but "The ends justify the means, is that it?
No! I will NOT compromise on this!" The line must be drawn heeyah!
"It's wrong, I know it's wrong and if I have to I'll nail the
goddamn door shut!" Hawkeye addresses this to both of them.

BJ Hunnicutt gives up, and gets -his- 'serious' look. "All right,"
he says, almost dangerously quietly. "You've made your point. As
chief surgeon, I'm sure your point carries a lot of weight. Ms.
Chapelle, I...apologize for our treatment of you. Post-Op isn't
'off-limits'." The last sentence borders on the sarcastic, but the
sarcasm's aimed more toward Hawkeye. He starts walking off. "I
need a damn drink."

Dicky Chapelle lets the camera fall again, and nods to BJ. "Thank
you for your professional behaviour, doctor," she says, tone
clipped and polite, and well, professional herself. She shoulders
the parachute and turns. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in my tent."
She starts walking off in the other direction.

Well, there goes everybody. And it doesn't make a damn bit of
difference. Because chief surgeon or not, Colonel Potter says it's
okay, and Charles says it's okay, and BJ says it's okay. And
that's all the argument he's got. Hawkeye stares after Dicky for a
moment, then after BJ. Then he exhales and the fury almost visibly
drains away, leaving him tired and shaken and slumped and small.
Nice going, Ben.

Where's Beej? He's in the Swamp, wearing the ugly -blue- bathrobe
this time. He has an awful lot of them, doesn't he. The edge of
his ugly long chair thing is propped up on a couple of books, and
his feet are up, and he's drinking heavily and writing Peg. At
least he's not rereading one of her letters.

Drinking heavily. That would be Hawkeye's usual response to a
situation like this. But as it is, he was detained, being needed
in Post-Op and then unexpectedly in OR, so he hasn't had a chance
to get as hammered as he'd really like to be and he feels
absolutely horrible. Edging quietly into the Swamp after
ascertaining that Charles is busy eating A Substance Almost, But
Not Quite, Entirely Unlike Food, he pauses on seeing BJ. "...hi."
Please respond to me.

BJ, unlike some other people we could name, is mature. Well, is
being relatively mature, anyway. "Hi." He doesn't look up, though.
He's midsentence, for cryin' out loud, and doesn't want it to
sound stilted.

He's writing home. Do not disturb. Hawkeye sits on the edge of his
bunk, elbows on knees and hands clasped, and waits. And waits. And
when he can't wait any longer (five whole seconds, give the man a
medal) he says, low and quiet, "I'm sorry."

Dotting some is and crossing some ts, BJ finally looks over at
Hawkeye. "I talked to Potter this afternoon," he says, setting his
notepad down and picking his glass up again. "So you're going to
have to apologize to Dicky. You -do- know she meant entirely well,
right?" He hasn't accepted the apology, has he. "I'm not the one
you should say sorry to. She is."

He hasn't accepted the apology. Hawkeye watches the floor. This
reminds him of when he yelled at Radar, except in some ways worse
and in some ways not as bad. And now it turns out BJ apparently
agrees with him, which makes it ten times worse. "I overreacted,"
he says, flat and low and barely audible.


Hauling himself up off his chair-thing, and bringing his glass, BJ
goes back to the still. "Yeah," he says, "you did. I saw it
coming, but I wish you could've seen her point of view at least
for a second. She's just doing her job. You really -should- go say
something civil to her, even if you can't apologize." He refills
his glass. "Gin?"

Just doing her job. Aren't we all. "I'll try. She might not want
to talk to me. And I don't blame her." Hawkeye still hasn't moved
an inch, not even raising his eyes to look at his friend. He
doesn't pick his fights, they pick him. And BJ still hasn't
accepted his apology. "No thanks."

Beej sighs, staring down at the sake-which-we-call-gin in his
glass. "Your stomach and liver thank you, I'm sure." A pause.
"It's okay, Hawk. The only thing I'm upset about is that she
bounced in here all gung-ho and we put out her fire. And she'll
get over it." He looks up, watching Hawkeye, and grins. "You
didn't hurt my feelings, if that's what you're worried about."

Put out her fire. Well maybe it *should* be out. Maybe everyone
should be as tired as they are, then nobody'd have the energy to
fight any more. Hawkeye finally looks up. "That's good." He really
means it, but he hasn't got a smile to give at the moment.
"Thanks."

No - no. Someone with that kind of fire who's -against- the kind
of things she's taking pictures of *needs* energy. And if no one
has any energy left, then what kind of world're we gonna live in
when the war's over? How can anyone enjoy peace that way? We've
run into the Fundamental Difference - but it's all right. BJ's
grin fades a little - but he still has enough smile to get the
point across. "No problem. Now, are you sure about that gin? As
your doctor, I'm wondering if I've got to prescribe it..." He's
not giving Hawkeye a choice. See? Regardless of consent, he's
filling up another martini glass and bringing it over.