**Note: This is dedicated to all of our Servicemen and Women overseas at this time of celebration. I salute you; we love you.**

Author: Sam

Story: B.J.’s Christmas Letter: 2 of 3

Series: n/a

Song Note: It Won’t Seem Like Christmas by Loretta Lynn.

Feedback: Yes, please? Especially constructive. samwise_baggins@yahoo.co.uk

Webpage: http://www.geocities.com/samwise_baggins/index.html

BJ Hunnicut lay on his bunk simply holding the unopened letter. He wasn’t sure he could open this one. The last letter from Peg had been heart wrenching; this one was probably along the same lines.

His wife wasn’t normally morose. This, however, was their second Christmas ever apart. They had always been honest with each other about their feelings, and his beautiful wife had taken that honesty into their correspondence. It was wonderful, refreshing, and bittersweet, though... especially right now.

The last letter had been opened by someone else and placed on the Bulletin Board. That wasn’t an act of cruelty; all identifying marks had been missing and the opener thought it the best way to find the owner. After all, someone was bound to read it and recognize the writing or signature. And so BJ had.

With a sigh, the surgeon turned over on his Army-issue cot. He frowned, stroking a gentle finger across the letter. How he missed his wife and daughter. And he knew, beyond any doubt, that they missed him just as much. Every letter from home poured out that misery.

Maybe he just shouldn’t read this letter at all. He could wait, bring it home with him, and read it with Peg. They could talk, kiss, make love. Things would be good. He could simply hold this letter and, instead of reading sad words, he could imagine the good times coming.

Sitting up, BJ caressed the letter again, imagining the scene back home. Peg would have sat down to write, the huge kitchen neat and smelling of baked cookies. Little Erin, a sloppily wrapped package in one tiny hand would be tugging at her skirts, begging for attention. Peg would reach down, smiling sadly, and pull the little girl into her lap, stroking her hair and murmuring words of love. Then she’d pull a fresh sheet of paper over and write a letter from Erin, followed by finishing her own letter to him.

BJ smiled at the thought of his daughter, his wife. Erin would want her letter to be separate, so Peg would oblige. After all, it’s almost Christmas. Then she would mail them together, but as they traveled, the pair of envelopes would become separated even further until Erin’s reached him one week before Christmas... and Peg’s the next day.

Another caress for his wife’s letter, his wife’s name, and BJ stood slowly. He looked around his temporary home. The Swamp was decorated with colorful socks and other negligible items: an attempt by his best friend, Hawkeye, to liven the atmosphere a bit. He’d done it the day before, after reading Erin’s letter. It had helped for a few minutes before Major Burns had come in and started insulting and whining about it.

The fight that had ensued had been more amusing than vicious, ending in Burns going to lick his mental wounds over at Major Houlihan’s tent and Hawkeye losing himself in several homemade martinis. BJ had stayed with Hawkeye and gotten drunk as well.

With a sigh, BJ walked out of the door to the Swamp. He wound up dropping the letter, startled, when he actually absent-mindedly bumped into Major Frank Burns. Burns started yelling at him, naturally, but BJ ignored him, dropping down to retrieve his now muddy letter.

“And I can have you up on assault charges, Captain. Assaulting a superior officer... yes, that’s what it is.” The tirade continued in the same petulant, useless vein as BJ found his letter and started trying to clean the icy mud off with his shirttail.

Finally, the doctor looked up at the other surgeon. “Frank, you’ve got mail on your bunk. A package and some letters.” BJ’s voice was tired, but held forced politeness. Major Burns was always a major pain in the rear.

“I do?” Frank pushed past BJ, causing him to drop the letter once more, and rushed in to see to his own post.

BJ glared after him, all politeness, feigned or otherwise, dropped completely. “Thanks, Frank.” The sarcasm was heavy as he finally managed to find and once more start cleaning his completely soaked, battered letter from Peg. “Just great.” Maybe he hadn’t wanted to open another sad letter, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to open it.

Standing, BJ headed for the Bulletin Board, almost without thinking.

When he realized where he was going, an idea struck him. Sure, it was kind of weird, but why not? The letter yesterday had been hung to dry while hopefully being identified. So, this one was already identified, but it did need drying. So... what if he hung it up, then read it? If it was really sad, he could always walk away and come back to it later to finish... just another face in the crowd of MASH 4077.

Without another thought, BJ tore open the soggy letter. Carefully sliding it from the envelope, making sure not to rip the delicate wet paper, he slowly unfolded it. A quick perusal revealed that this letter had faired better than yesterday’s. It was completely intact, if very wet, with no smudges at all. He stopped himself from reading right away.

The surgeon wasn’t particularly aware that a silent group of people had gathered nearby, watching intently. They had read his other letter, knew who it had belonged to, and were anxious to see what he’d do this time. The group, almost all nurses, definitely all friendly towards the doctor, rather hoped he would post it; natural curiosity about what his beloved family would write this time was rampant in the group.

When BJ had carefully tacked up his letter and stepped back a little, he was still unaware of the group. He was equally unaware that he had tears in his eyes as he quickly read his wife’s words. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea; he still felt miserable, and now the entire camp would know it. BJ reached to take down the letter.

A hand stopped him. It was Nurse Baker. She smiled gently at him and shook her head. “Please don’t, BJ. Let us share such a lovely letter.”

“Lovely? It’s sad and...”

“But it has such love and hope in it. She really loves you, Doctor,” added one of the other nurses. The majority of them were single women, but every one of them recognized a good thing… and what BJ Hunnicut had was the best. Envy, admiration, and a bit of pleasure mixed to make them all just a bit more respectful of the man they worked with everyday.

Nurse Kellye summed it up best with her simple words. “We like to imagine we’ve got the same kind of love you do, Doctor.”

With that, BJ couldn’t argue. He merely turned back to his wife’s letter and reread it, thinking of the newest perspective he’d been given on these sad, but oh so desired little letters.